Damage Control by Gordon Kent

Author:Gordon Kent [Kent, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-00-737235-5
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2005-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Fidelio waved a med kit at Alan. “I want to change that dressing and get a look at that wound, sir.”

Alan winced. “Okay.” He was almost asleep in the sun, and he stretched painfully. On the far side of the car, Rao sat sideways on the driver’s seat and questioned a small crowd of power-facility workers.

“Whoa, skipper. Mister O’Neill looks pissed.” Fidel leaned forward.

Alan saw Harry in the rear-view mirror and turned his head. Harry looked grim. He had an armload of paper packages wrapped in string, a heavy plastic shopping bag, and Djalik, at his shoulder, had more.

“Got you some clean clothes, bud. You still a thirty-two waist?” Harry was holding the packages out to him. “The bush jacket’s great. Look at it.”

“Close enough,” Alan said, and tossed the clothes on the seat.

“Look at it,” Harry said again, with more emphasis.

Alan reached for the largest package. He flipped open his folding knife, cut the string and unfolded the paper. It was a khaki jacket.

“Come on, man! Look at it.”

Alan looked at it. It was very well made, with cloth tape sewn in minute hand stitches down every interior seam, and a broad arrow stamped on the inside pocket.

“I need to get my dressing changed.”

Harry nodded, already impatient. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Alan had endured the police office again long enough for Fidel to change the dressing on his wound. When Fidel, with a surprisingly gentle touch, was done, Alan changed into a pair of cheap green shorts, the boots, cotton socks, and a T-shirt, with the bush jacket on top.

Outside, Djalik was wolfing down a plate of biryani from a stall. He waved at two more plates on the hood. The smell stirred Alan’s hunger, and he used his fingers to shovel the rice in. Rao was talking to Harry.

“Major’s going to run us back to the airfield.” Harry smiled at Rao, but the smile was thin.

Alan thought that Harry was as keyed up as he’d ever seen.

Rao excused himself. “I need to piss like a racehorse,” he said and headed down into the police office.

Harry scooped the last of his rice with a piece of naan. “He’s a spook.”

“No shit,” Alan said. “I like the jacket.”

“He’s offered us a place to stay. The bunch of us, even the plane. Thirty miles, over in the hills to the south.”

“Wants to keep an eye on us.”

“Just so. But I want to keep an eye on him, too.”

Harry leaned over and spoke quietly. “I have a lot of stuff we need to go over. A lot. We need a place to stay. Let’s do it.”

“Get anything?”

“Yeah. I met my guy. He handed over a disk. I won’t know, and I won’t know what they prove till I can go through it. It’s killing me.”

Alan smiled for the first time in hours. “Buddy, four hours ago we were all going to die on the road trying to get here.”

“Good point.” Harry leaned closer to whisper. “My guy says that somebody took the nukes.

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