The men of the Gendarmerie had secured the factory by the time the Osprey returned. The New Jacobins had been rounded up and handcuffed. They had been separated into groups of two and placed in office cubicles guarded by two men each. Ballon believed that martyrs and heroes were either exhibitionists or wind-up toys. They were less likely to do anything if no one was there to see or provoke them. The quick collapse of the New Jacobins reinforced something else which Ballon also believed. That they were cowardly pack animals with no stomach to fight when left on their own or faced with equal or superior numbers.
Whatever the truth of the matter, there was no further resistance as local police vans were summoned to cart the captives away. Ambulances were also called, though Ballon insisted on being treated at the site and remaining there until the Osprey and LongRanger had returned. Along with the others, he'd watched the distant struggle. Until the Osprey pilot radioed that Dominique had been taken, no one knew what the outcome had been.
When the Osprey landed, followed by the LongRanger, Colonel August personally took charge of Dominique. They exited side by side, August holding Dominique in a forearm lock. The Frenchman's forearm was facing up, resting on August's. His elbow was tucked into August's armpit and his hand was turned up and back toward his body. If he tried to escape, August would simply bend the hand toward his body, causing excruciating pain in the wrist.
Dominique didn't try to escape. He could barely walk.
August immediately turned him over to the Gendarmerie. He was placed in a van with Ballon and four of his men.
"Tell Herr Hausen he can have the headlines," Ballon told August before they drove away. "Tell him I will write them myself!" August assured him that he would.
The Osprey pilot had called ahead for the NATO medics.
Though the cuts and bruises Boisard and especially Manigot had suffered were mostly superficial, there were a lot of them. And Manigot had fractured two ribs.
Hausen was in the worst shape. In an effort to remain conscious and focus his energy during the flight back, he had talked to August. He said that Dominique had tried at first to strangle him. And each time Hausen had rallied and tried to wrest control of the helicopter, Dominique had kicked or beaten him again. As soon as the helicopter landed, Hausen slumped over the control stick.
Hood entered the LongRanger so he could be with the Deputy Foreign Minister until he was evacuated. Hood sat in the pilot's seat beside the German as they waited for the NATO medic to finish with the assault casualties.
Hood called his name. Hausen looked over and smiled faintly.
"We got him," he said.
"You got him," Hood replied.
"I was willing to die if I could take him with me," Hausen said. "I… didn't care about anything else. I'm sorry." "No need to apologize," Hood said. "It all worked out." The American got up and stepped aside as a medic and her assistant arrived. She examined the wounds on Hausen's neck, temple, scalp, and lower face to make sure there was no need for hemorrhage control. Then she checked his eyes and heart rate and made a cursory spinal examination.
"Mild neurogenic shock," she said to her assistant.
"Let's get him out of here." A stretcher was brought over and Hausen was carried from the LongRanger. Hood walked out behind them.
"Paul!" Hausen shouted as he was lifted down the steps.
Hood said, "I'm here." "Paul," Hausen said, "this is not finished. Do you understand?" "I know. We'll get that regional center going. Take the initiative. Now don't talk." "In Washington," Hausen said as he was placed in the ambulance. He smiled weakly. "Next time we meet in Washington. Quieter." Hood smiled back at him and squeezed his hand before they shut the door.
"Maybe we ought to invite him to a budget hearing," Matt Stoll said from behind him. "This'll seem like a day at the beach." Hood turned. He squeezed his associate's shoulder.
"You were a real hero tonight, Matt. Thanks." "Aw, it was nothing, Chief. It's amazing what you can do when your ass is in danger and you've got no choice." "Not true," Hood said. "A lot of people panic under fire.
You didn't." "Bull," Stoll said. "I just didn't show it. But I think you've got other unfinished business. So I'm just going to tiptoe away and have a nervous breakdown." Stoll left. Nancy was standing directly behind him, in the shadows.
Hood stared at her for a moment before he walked over. He wanted to say that she'd performed like a hero too, but he didn't. She'd never warmed to slap-on-the-back compliments, and he knew that that was not what she wanted to hear from him.
He took her hands in his. "I think this is the latest we've ever been out." She laughed once. Tears rolled from her eyes. "We were old fogies back then. Dinner, reading in bed, ten o'clock news, early movies on weekends." Hood was suddenly aware of the weight of his wallet inside his jacket and of the two ticket stubs inside it. She wasn't. She was staring into his eyes with love and longing.
She did not intend to make this easy.
He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, then moved his hands to her shoulders. He kissed her on the cheek. The warm salt of her tears made him want to move closer, hold her, kiss her ear.
He stepped back.
"There are going to be inquiries, a lot of commissions and court dates. I would like to get you an attorney." "Okay. Thanks." "I'm sure someone will pick up Demain's assets when this is all cleared up. My staff has muscle in all kinds of places. I'll make sure you're involved. Until then, Matt will find things for you to do." "My savior," she said dryly.
Hood grew annoyed. "This isn't fun for me either, Nancy. But I can't give you what you want." "Can't you?" "Not without taking from someone else, someone I love. I've spent most of my adult life growing up with Sharon. We're intertwined in ways that are very special to me." "Is that all you want?" she asked. "A relationship that's special? You should be delirious. We were. Even when we fought we had passion." "Yes," Hood said, "but that's over. Sharon and I are happy together. There's a lot to be said for stability, knowing that someone will be there—" "For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health," Nancy said bitterly.
"That," Hood said, "or even just showing up at the movies." Nancy's mouth turned down. She blinked several times without looking away. "Ouch," she said. "Direct hit." Hood was sorry to have hurt her, but at least he'd found the strength to say what needed to be said. It felt bad but it felt right.
Nancy finally funned away. "So," she said. "I guess I should have gone back to town with Colonel Ballon." "The local police are on the way," Hood told her.
"They'll see that we get a ride." "You're still a blockhead," she said with a brave smile.
"I meant he's single. It was a joke." "Gotcha," Hood said. "Sorry." Nancy took a deep breath. "Not as sorry as I am. About everything." She looked at him again. "Even though this didn't work out the way I wanted, it was good to see you, again. And I'm glad you're happy. I truly am." She started to walk away, swaying as she had when he'd seen her at the hotel, her hair snapping this way, then that. Hood started after her. Without turning around, she held up her hand like a police officer stopping traffic and shook her head.
Hood watched her go, his own eyes dampening. And when she had disappeared into the crowd of police and medics he smiled sadly.
The date, at last, had been kept.