Without remorse - Tom Clancy [79]
'Over here. Lieutenant!' Followed by: 'Medic!'
The world moved as they dragged him closer to the fire. Kelly's head hung limply to the left, watching the soldiers sweep through the ville, two of them disarming and examining the NVA.
'This fucker's alive,' one of them said.
'Oh, yeah?' The other walked over from the body of the eight-year-old, touched his muzzle to the NVA's forehead, and fired once.
'Fuck, Harry!'
'Knock that shit off!' the Lieutenant screamed.
'Look at what they done, sir!' Harry screamed back, falling to his knees to vomit.
'What's your problem?' the medical corpsman asked Kelly, who was. quite unable to reply. 'Oh, shit,' he observed further. 'Ell-Tee, this must be the guy who called in!'
One more face appeared, probably the Lieutenant commanding the Blue Team, and the oversized patch on his shoulder was that of the 1st Cavalry Division.
'Lieutenant, looks all clear, sweeping the perimeter again now!' an older voice called.
'All dead?'
'That's affirm, sir!'
'Who the hell are you?' the Lieutenant said, looking back down. 'Crazy fucking Marines!'
'Navy!' Kelly gasped, spraying a little blood on the medic.
'What?' Nurse O'Toole asked.
Kelly's eyes opened wide. His right arm moved rapidly across his chest as his head swiveled to survey the room. Sandy O'Toole was in the corner, reading a book under a single light.
'What are you doing here?'
'Listening to your nightmare,' she answered. 'Second time. You know, you really ought to -'
'Yeah, I know.'
CHAPTER 10
Pathology
'Your gun's in the back of the car,' Sergeant Douglas told him. 'Unloaded. Keep it that way from now on.'
'What about Pam?' Kelly asked from his wheelchair.
'We've got some leads,' Douglas replied, not troubling himself to conceal the lie.
And that said it all, Kelly thought. Someone had leaked it to the papers that Pam had an arrest record for prostitution, and with that revelation, the case had lost its immediacy.
Sam brought the Scout up to the Wolfe Street entrance himself. The bodywork was all fixed, and there was a new window on the driver's side. Kelly got out of the wheelchair and gave the Scout a long look. The door-frame and adjacent pillar had broken up the incoming shot column and saved his life. Bad aim on someone's part, really, after a careful and effective stalk - helped by the fact that he hadn't troubled himself to check his mirrors, Kelly told himself behind a blank expression. How had he managed to forget that? he asked himself for the thousandth time. Such a simple thing, something he'd stressed for every new arrival in 3rd SOG: always check your back, because there might be somebody hunting you. Simple thing to remember, wasn't it?
But that was history. And history could not be changed.
'Back to your island, John?' Rosen asked.
Kelly nodded. 'Yeah. I have work waiting, and I have to get myself back into shape.'
'I want to see you back here in, oh, two weeks, for a follow-up.'
'Yes, sir. I'll be back,' Kelly promised. He thanked Sandy O'Toole for her care, and was rewarded with a smile. She'd almost become a friend in the preceding eighteen days. Almost? Perhaps she already was, if only he would allow himself to think in such terms. Kelly got into his car and fixed the seat belt in place. Goodbyes had never been his strong suit. He nodded and smiled at them and drove off, turning right towards Mulberry Street, alone for the first time since his arrival at the hospital.
Finally. Next to him, on the passenger seat where he'd last seen Pam alive, was a manila envelope marked Patient Records/Bills in Sam Rosen's coarse handwriting.
'God,' Kelly breathed, heading west. He wasn't just watching traffic now. The cityscape was forever transformed for John Kelly. The streets were a curious mixture of activity and vacancy, and his eyes swept around in a habit he'd allowed himself to forget, zeroing in on people whose inactivity seemed