Sacrifice of One

Chapter 13

Distinct smells and flurries of activities at Landstuhl Regional Medical Hospital are no different from any other hospital. Every minuscule particle of air carried with it a smell of antiseptic. A voice over the PA system was paging doctors. Nurses hurried down hallways, carrying trays with pills and hypodermics. Doctors in green hospital gowns walked side by side, discussing patients. Volunteers pushed carts with magazines and newspapers.

Somehow, Rear Admiral John Torrinson had found a way to ignore all this. His special flight, authorized by President Carr, brought him to Tempelhof. He’d been pacing this same hallway ever since he arrived, waiting with Adler and the Moshenkos.

With his arms folded across his chest, and his head hanging down, he felt old beyond his forty-eight years. These were the times he dreaded. It was a deep pain of knowing someone who’d given his all for so long, fought for everything he believed in, willing to sacrifice himself to save others, was now possibly fighting for his own life.

“Sir?” Torrinson slowly turned around. “Here ya go, admiral,” Joe Adler said, handing Torrinson a paper cup of black coffee.

“Thanks, Joe.” Torrinson looked into Adler’s bloodshot eyes with prominent dark circles underneath. He, too, was feeling the stress.

“It’s straight up, sir. Didn’t know if you took it with or without anything.”

“Definitely need it straight up today, Joe,” Torrinson answered, forcing a slight smile. He took a sip, then raising his eyes, he looked Adler dead-on, speaking softly. “One of these days the three of us are going to have a discussion about that chopper. You know… the one you and Grant ‘borrowed’?”

“Yes, sir. Be happy to.”

Torrinson sipped at his coffee, taking a brief glance down the passageway. Positioned along white stark walls, there are a row of gray molded plastic seats. Sitting in those seats are five Navy SEALs.

Sitting next to them is a man and a woman, each with a CIA authorized “Visitor” badge hanging from a chain around their necks. Grigori Moshenko squeezed Alexandra’s hand, whispered in her ear, then stood and walked toward Adler and Torrinson.

“Do you think we will have to wait much longer?” he asked, impatiently, but obviously with concern.

Torrinson gave a slight shake of his head. “No way to tell, colonel.” All three looked at the double doors, under the sign “SURGERY.” Waiting for them to swing open was nerve-racking, but praying that when they did, someone would be bringing good news.

Adler stepped away from Torrinson and Moshenko, with his eyes glued to the doors. He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that Grant was somewhere behind those doors, in surgery, possibly…

Suddenly, one door swung open. A surgeon, wearing green surgical scrubs, took long strides toward the waiting visitors, as he removed his surgical mask. He was about fifty years old, with thinning brown hair, about 5’10”, and appeared to be in good physical shape.

Adler took backward steps, until he was between Moshenko and Torrinson, with his eyes never leaving the doctor coming toward them.

As soon as the SEALs saw the doctor, they got up, and letting Alexandra go ahead of them, they hurried down the hall to join the others.

Alexandra laid a hand on her husbands back, and he moved over, allowing her to squeeze in. She grabbed his hand.

Captain Paul Engleston introduced himself then began. “Well, folks, as you probably already know, Captain Stevens took one helluva beating, and I’m betting more than one.

“We did a full CAT scan and took X-rays. I had some concern about vertebrae C3 and C4 with the swelling, but it was only bruising. The scan also showed a contusion on his liver. He’s got a simple fracture of two ribs, and a broken index finger. We set his shoulder then had to do extensive repairs to the rotator cuff. Looks like he had some surgery on it not too long ago, right?”

Torrinson responded, “He did.”

Engleston commented, “Whoever did this to him probably noticed that scar.” He continued, “There’re a couple of injuries on the back of his head and forehead, that needed sewing up, so between those and the bullet, the result was a concussion. But, the good news is there isn’t any sign of a skull fracture.

“We stitched an area here,” he indicated by touching a section above his temple, “where the bullet grazed him. And he had several additional places on his body, front and back, that needed stitching up.” Engleston looked down, shaking his head. “Considering the beating he took, he’s one lucky man.”

He raised his head then looked around at the faces staring back at him, waiting for him to put a period on the diagnosis. “Look, it’s going to take some time, but I expect him to make a complete recover. With those rib injuries and contusion on his liver, though, he’ll be here at least another five to six weeks convalescing. We’ll start him on therapy for his shoulder while he’s here. The whole recovery process might be slow.”

His gray eyes scanned the group in front of him, as he asked, “Who’s the corpsman that worked on him?” Chief Kenton pointed a finger at Stalley. Doc Engleston put his hands on his hips, as he said, “Well, petty officer, you sure as hell made my job easier by caring for him the way you did! Good work, son.”

“Couldn’t have done it without the Team, sir,” Stalley answered as he looked at his fellow SEALs. Engleston totally understood the comment.

Moshenko spoke softly to Alexandra, trying his best to keep up with the translation. When he finished, she laid her head against his arm, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“When can we see him, doc?” Adler asked, anxiously.

“They’re getting him ready to go to the recovery room. I’d say maybe in a couple of hours after they move him to a bed in the ward. But don’t expect too much from him. The anesthesia will last for awhile, plus he’s on pain medication.”

Adler tried to cheer himself up by thinking, That outta be fun to watch!

It took a little while, but everyone insisted on shaking the doctor’s hand. He gave a short wave, then walked back to the double doors, disappearing behind them.

Torrinson took the SEALs aside. “Gentlemen, this was another remarkable mission. I’m sure you know how much we sincerely appreciate what you did.

“Look, I’ll put in a call to your CO and see if I can extend your stay for a couple extra days. You can get some rest, then come back in a day or so. I’m sure Captain Stevens will want to thank you himself.”

Lieutenant Monroe replied, “Appreciate that, admiral. Guess it’s time for us to get some sack time, sir, so we’ll leave.”

Adler started to go talk to the Moshenkos when a sound of a woman’s heels, clicking on the linoleum floor, made him turn.

A Navy lieutenant, wearing her service dress whites, and carrying her cap, was hurrying down the hallway. She was about 5’7” with brown hair that was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. She stopped in front of him. “Excuse me, lieutenant. Are you here for Captain Stevens?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, good,” she replied, trying to catch her breath.

Adler noticed her name tag. “Oh! Lieutenant Palmer! I’m Joe Adler.”

“Joe Adler. Grant’s spoken of you. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, ma’am.”

“Please. I don’t have much time. Do you have any news? Can I see him?”

“The last I heard, they were taking him to the recovery room. Doc ran through a list of his injuries but assured us he’d make a full recovery. He’ll probably be here at least another five weeks. And answering your second question, nobody can see him yet, and probably not for another couple of hours.”

“Oh, I see,” she replied with disappointment. She walked in a small circle with her head down.

“Anything I can help with, ma’am?” Adler questioned.

She stood quietly for a moment, then turned to look at him. “I drove here from Rhein-Main. I just found out he was here. I was hoping to see him.”

“Maybe you can come back tomorrow. He’ll probably be in better shape then, anyway.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I have to get back to the base,” she answered, as she looked at her Timex. “I’m leaving for D.C. tonight. I’ve got new orders to Pearl (Pearl Harbor, Hawaii). I didn’t expect I’d have much time to see him, but I was hoping.” She hooked the strap of her purse on her shoulder, then said, “Well, look, Lieutenant Joe Adler… tell him I was here. Would you do that, please?”

“I will, ma’am.”

She held her hand out and he shook it. “Good luck with the new orders, ma’am.”

“Thanks.” With that, she turned and walked away.

Adler watched her briefly, thinking, Thought the skipper ended that one. Maybe he did, but doesn’t sound like she did.

He waved Grigori toward him. “Colonel, sir. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, Joe. Alexandra and I are relieved.” He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear.

She paused, then gave Adler a hug, and said very slowly, trying to pronounce each word carefully, “Tank you, Joe.”

Moshenko smiled at her and then gave Adler a wink before asking, “Do you believe we will see Grant soon?”

Adler glanced at his watch. “Maybe in another couple of hours. I don’t know if they’ll let all of us in, sir. We’ll have to wait and see. And if not today, tomorrow for sure.”

“Do you mind if we wait with you, Joe?”

“Of course not. Look, if you’re hungry I can take you down to the geedunk.”

“Gee-dunk?” Moshenko asked, with his brow wrinkling.

“Oh, I mean the cafeteria, the galley, sir.”

Moshenko translated for Alexandra, then answered, “We would like that.”

As they started for the elevator, Adler stopped near Torrinson. “Sir, we’re going to grab a bite. Would you like to join us, or can I bring you something?”

“Appreciate the offer, Joe, but think I’ll wait here.”

An hour later, a Navy nurse came down the hall and walked up to Torrinson. “Admiral, are you waiting to see Captain Stevens?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to him, sir. They brought him to his room a little while ago,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ll be having any long conversation,” she smiled. “He’s still coming out of the anesthesia.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, you can still talk to him. In fact, we’d like you to do that. It will help him fight off the effects from the anesthesia.” She motioned with her arm. “Right in here, admiral.”

He followed her into a large room with six beds, three of which had curtains drawn around them. The far wall had a bank of windows, with white aluminum blinds. White vinyl tiles covered the floor.

She walked to the second bed. “Here we are.” A green curtain hung by a metal rod from the ceiling, forming a U around the bed. She drew one side of it back. “I’ll check back in a little while.” She left.

Torrinson stood near the foot of the bed, staring at Grant. He never would have imagined seeing him this way. Wires led from his body and arms to monitors that constantly beeped, flashing his heart rate, pulse, temperature, and O2 SAT (oxygen saturation). Oxygen was flowing through tubes into his nostrils. His right arm was bent at the elbow. A wrap held it in place against his body. There was swelling and black and blue marks on his face; small cuts on his nose, and near his mouth and eyes; a bandage was taped above his temple. “Jesus Christ!” Torrinson whispered to himself, as his fingers curled around the cool metal of the bed.

He walked around the side, and laid his cap on the side table. Picking up a chair, he set it close to the bed, then sat down. Leaning close to the side rails, he spoke softly. “Captain. Captain Stevens. Can you hear me? It’s Admiral Torrinson, Grant.” There was a slight movement of Grant’s head. “Grant,” he said louder.

Grant’s eyes remained closed, as he answered in barely a hoarse whisper, with words very slurred. “Yes… sir.”

“Glad to have you back, Grant.” No response. “Joe and Colonel Moshenko are here. They’re outside waiting to see you.”

“Yes… sir.” He tried turning his head in the direction of the voice, but nothing was working as it should. And he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.

Torrinson stood. He leaned over the side rail and gently laid a hand on top of Grant’s head. “Okay, sailor. I’ll let you rest. I’ll be back later.”

“Yes… sir.”

As Torrinson picked up his cap, a duty nurse, wearing a white uniform and nurse’s cap, came in with a tray holding needles and small tubes. “Time for blood work,” she said, placing the tray on the side table.

“How long will it take for the anesthesia to wear off, lieutenant?”

“Everybody’s different, sir, but I would think in a few hours he’ll be much more coherent. Every time one of us comes in to poke and prod him, he’ll come around more,” she smiled, “and we’re here more than you can imagine, admiral.”

“Thank you.” Torrinson left the room, then turned down the passageway, seeing Adler sitting near the elevator. “Where are the Moshenkos, Joe?” he asked, looking around.

Adler stood. “They’re still in the geedunk enjoying delicious hospital food, sir.” Before Torrinson could comment, Adler asked, “You been to see the captain?”

“Right now, Joe, I can tell you he’s a man of few words,” Torrinson answered, giving Adler’s arm a slap.

“So, he’s still out of it, sir?”

“Oh, yeah. But you can go in and talk to him. Nurse said he’d come around a little at a time. Maybe he’ll recognize your voice.”

“That may not be a good thing, sir,” Adler answered, forcing a smile.

“Go ahead,” Torrinson said, as he was pointing. “He’s down on the right, first door, second bed, left.” As Adler walked away, Torrinson called to him. “Joe. He really took some hits.” Adler nodded, sucked in a chestful of air, then walked down the passageway, slapping his cap against his leg. Torrinson decided to join the Moshenkos.

Adler sat next to the bed, resting his arms on his thighs, as he leaned forward. He stared through the side rail at his friend, laying so still, so quiet, so beat up. He and Grant had often spoken about the likelihood of shit like this, or worse, happening.

He thought how lucky he was in Sicily after being held hostage, and being rescued by his friend. But being prepared, and then having to face the fact were two entirely different matters. He was sure of one thing. He’d never forget leaving Grant behind, seeing him laying on the ground, surrounded by Russians and East Germans.

Maybe Grant was right. Had they been pushing their luck far too long? Maybe it was time for them to have that talk. Was it time for them to “hang it up?”

Fifteen minutes later he heard Grant trying to clear his throat. He stood up, leaning over the side rail. “Skipper, it’s me. It’s Joe.”

Grant’s eyes were mere slits as he tried to shake off the anesthesia. “Joe?” He kept staring straight ahead. “Where are you?” His words were still slurring.

Adler laughed. “Right here next to you. Come on. Follow my voice.”

Grant turned his head extremely slowly. His eyes were having a hard time trying to keep up with the motion of his head.

Adler finally came into view, albeit, somewhat out of focus. Grant squinted but it didn’t make Adler’s face any clearer. “Hey, Joe. What are you doing here?” His eyes closed again.

Maybe the anesthesia was wearing off, but the pain meds were kickin’ in. “I’m visiting you. You’re in the hospital at Landstuhl, near Ramstein.”

Adler’s words rolled around in his brain. He scrunched up his face. His face felt numb. And his tongue didn’t seem to be working right. Every word dragged as it came out of his mouth. “Hospital? Ramstein? What the hell…?” He rolled his head back to center. He was out again.

Adler leaned over the side rail and said quietly, “Damn, skipper. Aspirins practically knock your ‘dick’ in the dirt. Maybe the doc needs to cut back some!” He braced, hearing somebody walking behind him.

“So, lieutenant, you think I need to readjust the meds?”

Shit! Adler looked slowly to his right as he stood up straight, seeing Doc Engleston standing there with somewhat of a grin. “Sorry, doc, but any kind of pain meds hit him like a brick. Besides, he has a huge aversion to any pills, probably ‘cause he heals pretty damn quick without them. He usually does his karate thing, you know, concentration.”

“So, he’s into karate? Is that why he’s got those scars on his hands?”

“Yes, sir, at least some of them. I think he’s a fifth degree black belt.”

“Hmm,” Engleston softly said, putting a finger to his lips as a thought came to mind.

“Something wrong, sir?”

“Oh, no. I wondered why he didn’t have any internal bleeding or serious internal injuries to his organs from the pounding he took.”

“You think it’s because of the karate?”

“Well, it’s possible the captain kept his presence of mind and was able to contract those stomach muscles just enough to protect himself a good part of the time. I’m sure his captors probably made sure he was conscious when they beat him. How long was he in their hands?”

Adler jammed his hands into his pockets, feeling a pang of guilt as he answered, “At least ten, twelve hours, doc.”

Engleston shook his head slowly, folding his arms across his chest tightly. “No way to tell how long he could have kept it up during that amount of time.” He patted Adler’s arm as he said, “Well, in any case, don’t think the concentration will help him now. He needs the meds, believe me. It’s all part of the healing process. Don’t worry. I’ll have the nurses keep an eye on him. Okay?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Engleston stood at the foot of the bed, perusing the chart, making notations. He hung it on an S hook then clicked his pen and dropped it in his top pocket. As he started walking out, he held his arm out to the side, wagging a finger toward Grant. “Keep talking to him, lieutenant!”

Adler sat down again. Twenty minutes later another nurse came to check the monitors, then she checked the chart. “Has he been awake?” she asked.

“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago, but it was only for a minute.”

She made a notation on the chart. “That’s okay. It happens that way.”

Adler sat quietly by the bed, with his legs stretched out, his ankles crossed, trying not to picture leaving Grant behind.

“Joe?” Moshenko called just above a whisper.

He jumped up and waved Grigori and Alexandra into the room, motioning for them to go to the other side of the bed.

Moshenko grabbed hold of the railing, his heart feeling an ache. Rubbing a hand lightly over Grant’s head, and being mindful of the bandages, he said, “Oh, my young friend. What they did to you. But you are safe now. You will be all right.”

Grant struggled to open his eyes, blinking a couple of times. This time he turned right to where the voice came from, to Moshenko. He squinted. “Grigori? That you?” His voice was still gravely. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

“Yes, my friend. And look who else is here.”

Grant refocused, moving his eyes slightly, finally spotting Alexandra. She reached through the side rail and took his hand gently in hers. “Alexandra? What are you guys doing here?”

Moshenko looked across at Adler with a raised eyebrow. “Pain meds,” Adler explained.

Moshenko nodded with understanding. “Do you remember anything, Grant?”

“Remember? Remember what?” Grant asked, beginning to feel confused… and really sleepy. He wanted to rub his face, but he couldn’t lift either arm.

“Maybe you need to get more rest,” Moshenko said, patting Grant’s shoulder. “We will talk more later.”

Grant heard something beeping. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the fuzzy image of monitors, then the wires leading down to his body. He looked above his shoulder, seeing IV bags. He pressed his head back into the pillow, trying to force his eyes to open wider. “What… happened?” He looked back at Adler. “Shit, Joe! What the hell happened?” The heart and pulse monitor started beeping faster.

“You had a slight… accident. Look, skipper, just calm down, close your eyes and get some sleep. Everything will be clearer later.”

There was brief silence. As Grant settled down, the meds started kicking in again. “Yeah. Okay. I am kinda tired anyway.” It didn’t take long. He was out.

A nurse came into the room, hurrying to the bed. Adler stopped her. “He’s okay. Just got a little confused.”

“I need to check the monitor and then change his bandages anyway. You folks will have to leave for a little while.”

And so it went for the next several hours. Each time Grant woke, he remained awake a little longer, things got more clearer, and at the same time, things got more difficult to comprehend.

Torrinson, Adler, and the Moshenkos took turns staying with him, talking, or just sitting, getting some comfort themselves just being with him.

Adler just walked into the ward, and hearing Grant moaning, he rushed over to the bed. “Skipper! Wake up!”

Grant was agitated and sweating profusely. “Huh? Joe?”

“Yeah. You having a dream?”

“More like a nightmare.”

Adler poured some fresh water into a clear plastic cup, and dropped in a straw. “Here. Drink some. Maybe I can get you a Coke later.” Grant swallowed a few sips. “Wanna tell me about it?” Adler asked, as he reached over and put the cup on the bedside table. He took a washcloth out of the drawer and dabbed the cloth on Grant’s forehead, wiping away sweat.

“You want the short or long version?” Grant asked.

“Whatever you feel like telling me.”

Grant closed his eyes, seeing everything again. “It starts out quiet. Wherever I am, I’m pretty sure I’m alone. I can’t hear anybody or anything. I start to think that the place is pitch black, no kind of light, until I realize I’m blindfolded. But I can’t figure out why I’m blindfolded. Even though I can’t see, I feel dizzy, disoriented.

“I’m sitting on some kind of wooden chair. I think it might be handmade ‘cause it’s rough, uncomfortable. I try to move, but can’t. Then I realize my arms are behind my back. My wrists are tied. I struggle but can’t get loose. The rope’s too tight, and I feel it cutting into my wrists. I try to move my legs, but my ankles are tied to the chair, too.

“There’s an odd yet familiar taste in my mouth, and it takes a minute before I recognize it as blood. Can’t figure out why there’s blood.

“I hear a door open, then voices. Sounds like at least two men are walking behind me. They’re speaking Russian.” He opened his eyes and looked at Adler, commenting, “You’d think I’d know what they were saying, but I don’t.”

Adler said, “It’s a dream, boss.”

Grant gave a quick nod, then continued. “I get a whiff of sulphur, then start to smell smoke, like cigarette smoke. I hear footsteps scuffing by me. Then, somebody is standing in front of me. I know he’s leaning close to my face ‘cause I can hear him breathing, smell some kind of liquor on his breath, before he blows smoke in my face. Everything goes quiet, before I feel intense, sudden pain.

“It’s the third time it’s happened, Joe, exactly the same way every time.” He tried to clear his brain, trying to put it back on track, trying to make sense out of everything.

Adler debated about giving Grant the full story behind the dream, but finally reasoned it was better than making him drive himself crazy. “Skipper?” Grant looked at him with confusion in his eyes. “Let me tell you why you’re having this dream, what happened, why you’re here in the hospital. Is there anything you remember?” Grant shook his head.

Twenty-five minutes later, Adler went silent. Grant laid his head back. Adler quietly said, “I’m sorry, skipper. I just… ”

“No, Joe. You cleared it all up. I thought I was losing my mind, you know, not being able to remember, not understanding what it meant. You know that’s just not like me.”

“Yeah. I know, but that’s part from the hits you took,” Adler said, as he pointed to Grant’s head, “and now the meds. You know what aspirins do to you.”

Grant looked back at his good friend. “And the men from the Team… did they leave yet?”

“No. The admiral had them stay a couple of extra days. They should be here today.”

“Good. I need to see them.” He took a deep breath, feeling pain on both sides of his ribcage. “What about the men we rescued. Where are they?”

“Understand they’re at a separate section of the hospital. Heard the big brass from D.C. are coming in. The admiral was trying to get information, but everyone’s keeping pretty tight-lipped. All he could find out was they’ll be here for at least another three weeks, if not longer. They’ve got examinations and debriefings, I expect.”

“They’ve been through hell, Joe. Are they okay?”

“As far as I know, they came through the whole incident in pretty good shape, except for some bumps and bruises when our chopper went down.”

Grant went quiet, as he tried to remember their faces. He still couldn’t bring them into focus yet. Giving his head a shake, he looked back at Adler. “Okay, now give me the straight skinny. What’s wrong with me? I mean, physically. We know what’s wrong mentally!” It was the first time he smiled since coming out of the anesthesia. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Do I still have all my teeth?” he laughed.

“Yeah, miracle upon miracle. You still got all your pearly whites! And as far as your other injuries, there’re nothing that time won’t heal. You know that shoulder of yours was dislocated. Doc said they had to do extensive repair work on the rotator cuff, so that’s gonna need some therapy.”

“Feel like I’m in a straightjacket with this damn thing,” Grant said, looking down at his right arm, wrapped tight against his body.

Adler nodded, then continued, “The pain in your side is because you’ve got fractured ribs. Anything else that hurts… well, now you know why. Look, maybe you should talk with Doc Engleston. He’ll… ”

“Hey! You’re being straight with me, right?”

“Would I shit you?” Adler laughed.

“Then that’s… ” Grant went silent, continuing to stare at Adler, but almost as if he wasn’t seeing him.

“What’s wrong, skipper?”

“Something you just said.”

“What? You mean ‘would I shit you’?”

“Yeah. Somebody said that to me not too long ago.” He closed his eyes trying to draw out a face. “Who the hell was it?”

It seemed to be something so insignificant, but Adler knew once Grant kicked his brain into gear, he wouldn’t stop until he had the answer. The only other person Adler could think of was… Oh, Christ. Tony. How the hell could he tell Grant about Mullins?

“Hey, skipper, don’t worry about it. Maybe when the pain meds are out of your system, it’ll come to you.”

Suddenly, Grant laughed, then looked at Adler. “Mullins! Tony said it when I called the Embassy. Hey! Where is he? Did he come here while I was zonked out?”

“Uh. No. He hasn’t been here.”

“He hasn’t?” Grant asked with both surprise and disappointment. “He’s not pissed at me for chewing his ass out, is he?”

Adler shook his head. “No. He’s… he’s probably back in D.C. now.” Unable to face Grant, he got up and stepped around to the foot of the bed. He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, keeping his head lowered.

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong, Joe. Are you gonna tell me?”

Adler turned. Gotta let him know, he decided. Except the time wasn’t right to let Grant know Mullins was trying to save him when he was killed. Maybe he’d never tell him.

When he looked up, Grant still had his eyes fixed on him. “Do you remember anything about the firefight when our chopper went down?”

“Just parts. I’m starting to remember the crash and then everybody getting out. There was the sound of another chopper and gunfire. But not much more; only brief flashes come back every now and then. Why?” All Adler could do was stare back, hoping he didn’t have to say the words.

The realization suddenly hit Grant. He pressed his head back against the pillow. “Oh, Christ! No! He can’t be. Tell me he’s not dead!” Adler still didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told Grant everything. “Tony’s dead?” Adler merely nodded. “How? What… what happened?”

Adler looked down as he walked to the chair, but he didn’t sit. He described to Grant how Mullins died, what he was trying to do, and finally he said, “They sent his body back to D.C. the other day.”

“Goddamn it, Joe! Goddamn it! If I hadn’t asked him to… ”

“Hold it!” Adler said loudly, slapping his hand on the bed rail. This was another one of their moments, when military protocol was about to be thrown out the window, when a brotherly friendship would take over.

A nurse tending a patient on the opposite side of the room walked quickly toward Adler. “Shhh! Please! Keep your voices down!” She drew the curtain around the bed and left.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Adler commented, waving her off. He turned back to Grant, leaning over the rails, trying to keep his voice down to a loud whisper. “Look, you just wait a freakin’ minute! You just remembered that you asked him if he could help us while we were in Moscow, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Grant asked, still angry at himself.

“Well, do you remember that he took it on himself to show up at the safe house? In fact, you tried to talk him out of it when we were in Washington, the night at the memorial. Remember?” Grant gave an almost imperceptible nod. “He put his ass out there. Shit! He wanted to put his ass out there! Nothing you said changed his mind. So don’t you go busting your ass and take any blame. Hear me?” Grant remained motionless, taking in Adler’s words, but unable to believe the fact, unable to shake the guilt.

Adler put his arms on the bed rail, then rested his chin on his fists. “Look, skipper. You’ve been through shit these past few days. You haven’t been able to think straight, and I know you’ve still got questions and probably blank pages in that brain of yours. It’ll all come back.”

“I know, but it’s just so damn frustrating. Listen, Joe, can you give me a few minutes?”

Adler nodded, “Sure. Sure I will. I’ll go get us a couple of Cokes. You want a Snickers?” Grant didn’t answer. Adler understood.

Grant needed some private time, to think about Mullins, think about everything he’d ever asked of him. Joe said he was aboard the rescue chopper, picking up the POWs. It was something Tony wanted to do, for his cousin. How ironic if one of those men was his cousin, but it wasn’t likely.

Thinking of the arguments they had, and the firefight aboard the Bronson,and that scraggly ass hair and beard, Grant managed a brief smile. “Damn, Tony,” he said under his breath.

He was trying to adjust to a more comfortable position in bed, when Adler walked in, seeing him shifting his body. “I think doc said they’d try to get you up this afternoon.”

“That’s what I hear,” Grant answered. “You know it’s driving me nuts being in this place.”

“Yeah, I know.” He handed Grant a Coke. “I got you a Snickers just in case.” He put it on the side table, then asked, “Hey, are you okay, I mean, about Tony?”

“Yeah. You’re right. No matter how much I chewed his ass out, he’d made up his mind. Guess we all can be hardheaded at one time or other, but he died because of it.”

“Do you think the CIA will try to tarnish his record?”

“Christ, Joe! I hope not. When I get back, maybe the two of us can stand up for him. See what you can find out, since you’ll be home before me.” Adler gave a quick nod. “Okay, time to change the subject. Did Grigori and Alexandra fly back with the admiral?”

“Yeah. On the same plane he flew in on, courtesy of the President.”

Grant just shook his head slowly. “Can’t believe it actually happened, Joe. I mean, Grigori ‘coming over.’ Guess he’ll be going through some tough G2 sessions. Jesus! I wish I could be there for him.”

“I got word I’m supposed to be ‘interviewed’ when I get back. Think they’ll send somebody here to talk with you?”

“I hope so. I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh, one other thing,” Adler said, clearing his throat. “Lieutenant Palmer was here briefly the day you were brought in.”

“Terri? She was here?” Grant questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but you were still in recovery. She drove down from Rhein-Main but said she couldn’t stay.”

“How’d she know I was here?”

Adler shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Maybe she saw a message come into Communications at Rhein-Main.”

“Is she coming back?”

Adler shook his head. “She got new orders to Pearl. She was flying to D.C. that night.”

Grant tried to sit up straighter, as he answered, “Pearl, huh? Well, it’s best.”

“Thought you ended that.”

“Yeah. I did. It just wouldn’t be fair, you know? I mean, look at the shit that happened to me. Couldn’t ask anybody else to make a decision to live this kind of life.”

Grant remembers the day, as if it were yesterday, when a Navy vehicle pulled up in front of his house. The day he and his mom learned his dad had been killed. Seeing his mom suffering, the look in her eyes, and the anguish on her face affected him deeply. There were days when he thought she wanted to die. And that frightened him almost as much as the day his dad left for Korea.

“Yeah. Look at me,” Adler said, frowning. “Divorced twice. It doesn’t always work, skipper, but… sometimes that one special person comes along.” He hesitated briefly before saying, “It worked for you and Jenny, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” Grant nodded, thinking about his wife. During one of his trips to Nam, she contracted a viral infection and died before he could get home.

Enough had been said. Adler picked up his cap from the side table. “Do you remember this is my last day here?”

“I know,” Grant replied. “Won’t have anybody to play with anymore.”

“Well, you just be nice to all the nurses, and I bet you won’t even miss me.” He glanced at his watch. “Guess I’d better get going. My flight’s at 1430. Oh, by the way. I picked up your dress blues and rucksack that we left at Tempelhof. There’re lockers downstairs. The lock key’s in the drawer here.” He walked around to the other side of the bed, reaching for Grant’s left hand, being mindful of the wires and IV. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“That’s affirmative! Hey! You still got an extra set of keys for my apartment and the Vette, right?”

“Yeah, back in my apartment.”

“Well, start up the Vette a few times, okay?”

“My pleasure,”Adler said, with a quick, two finger salute.

As he started walking past the bed, Grant said, “Thanks, Joe.”

“For what?”

“Just… thanks.”