Chapter Nineteen

The gravel road was bumpy, and Viktor moaned from the back. I leaned over the seat, could see he wasn't conscious and tried to wake him. He didn't come to. I yelled at Diego, "Viktor's hurt pretty bad. It doesn't look like the round hit anything major, but it's too dark for me to make sure, and I've got this little problem with my leg."

I was sure the bullet went straight through, but I was concerned the wound might be contaminated by the bullet passing through my clothing. The warm blood ran down my leg, and I started to feel light headed. It wasn't arterial; otherwise, I would've been close to dying, but it was still a nasty wound. The wound on my shoulder, although only a graze and not bleeding much, burned from the raw flesh exposed.

"We can't go to a hospital, even if we knew where one was, so we're going to have to do the best we can with what we have."

Neither of us was a medic, and Viktor needed a doctor. I dug the phone from my pants pocket and called Agent Harper as we hit the two-lane back road, headed for the highway.

He answered. "I got your message loud and clear. We are in route with ATF. The local LEOs informed us of the explosion. They said they heard it all the way in town, and they're on their way there. I hope you're not there."

"We're nearing the main road but are detouring away from town. We have Viktor. He's in bad shape, and I took one to the leg. It's bleeding heavily. We need a doc ASAP, and we can't go to a hospital."

"Diego, make a right, and head away from town."

"I can route an ambulance to you and get you help. That's the best I can do," he said.

I didn't believe Viktor was going to die, but he needed immediate medical attention due to the roughing up they gave him, and my leg wasn't getting any better, so I agreed. We drove away from town and stopped about five miles from the road we had left and waited. Within ten minutes, an ambulance arrived, and Agent Harper stepped out, directing the EMTs to the SUV. He told them to forget what they saw, under fear of arrest for disclosing classified information and they got to work on Viktor and me. The EMT working on Viktor said he needed to be in the hospital, possible concussion and internal bleeding, but couldn't be sure without x-rays and an MRI. We couldn't leave him with them, but we couldn't take him with us. They checked my wound and verified the bullet had gone through. With some antibiotics and morphine, I was good to go. Agent Harper said he would make sure Viktor made it to the hospital and got the care he needed, but we needed to get the hell out of there and lay low for a few days. Everyone would be looking for who did this, and he didn't want us looked at as suspects. He had to leave and get to the compound. Viktor regained consciousness for a bit, and we told him he would be alright, and we would come back to get him when he was better. I reassured him I would call Ilyana and tell her. He smiled and passed out again. Other than the gunshot wound, it looked like he had been in a car accident. They flushed my wounds, wrapped my calf and shoulder, gave me a shot of morphine, which dulled the pain, and told me to see a doctor as soon as I could.

I climbed into the front passenger seat, and Diego got into the driver's seat. Agent Harper thanked us and said he would be in touch. We headed down the road and made our way back to the rental car. We couldn't leave it out there. Too many cops and feds to risk those types of questions if they found the vehicle.

I took over driving the SUV, and Diego drove the car. After moving all the gear into the car, we ditched the SUV on a backroad. I let Diego drive the car and called Ilyana to tell her that Viktor was safe. I fell asleep while the morphine was still active. It had been one hell of a day, and it wasn't over yet.

I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke, I felt the pain shooting up my leg all the way to my head. I needed to get it looked at and sewed up.

Fuck! That shit hurt.

I looked over at Diego; I could tell he was tired too. We both needed rest, and a stiff drink wouldn't have hurt us either. We couldn't stop anywhere due to how we were dressed, and we both had blood all over us, so we called the hotel where we had stayed the previous night and reserved a room for the next two days. We stopped along the side of the road and Diego and I both changed, and he dumped our bloody clothes off the road under some brush.

We pulled into the parking lot of the hotel about 45 minutes later, and I went in to pay for the room. I had seen my reflection in the mirror, and I looked haggard.

The lady looked at me, and I said, "Rough day. Got a little banged up at one of those mudder competitions."

She shook her head as though I was stupid but checked us in and gave me the keys saying, "Don't leave a big mess in the room. Otherwise, you'll have to pay an extra cleaning fee of thirty-five dollars."

After settling in, I sent Diego out to get me some pain meds and first aid supplies. I had the antibiotics from the EMTs, but they would not last, and I needed this wound looked at by a doctor. While Diego was gone, I called Mary. It was late, and I could tell I woke her.

"John, is everything ok?" she asked, more asleep than awake.

"Yes, Mary. We're fine. Viktor was pretty banged up, but he's in the hospital getting the care he needs. He should fully recover in a week or so."

"I know when things aren't ok so tell me the truth. Are you really ok?"

I had to be honest with her. I had lied to her once, promised myself I wouldn't do it anymore.

"I'm ok, but I took a bullet through my calf, and another one grazed my shoulder. The EMTs patched me up and I'm going to see a doctor for follow up, but I will be ok. Viktor needed a hospital. He took a bullet to the chest, and they worked him over pretty good."

She was quiet. "I promise you I'm ok."

"This is the second time you've been shot in two weeks. I don't like those numbers. I don't like the fact we're in constant danger."

"What we did today could be the key factor in removing us from danger. We have the FBI on our side now, and they are helping with the problem. I don't know what they are going to do, but if my guess is right, BelyyaPrava won't be a threat to us for much longer."

"If you say so--it's just...it's just I'm really having a hard time with all this and so are the boys, and then there's you. As much as you don't want to admit, this whole situation has changed you, and before you say anything, I'm not saying I'm leaving or anything, it's just you've changed, and it's hard."

I sensed the frustration and anxiety in her voice. This was overwhelming for her and the boys. This was something no one should ever have to get used to, yet I had thrust her, and the boys, and her family, into this situation. Along with being back in the thick of things, a place where I didn't ever want to be again, it all weighed on my mind. I had jumped back into the deep end of the pool, and I couldn't swim like I used to.

"Mary, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've put everyone through this. I'm sorry I didn't make better choices that day. I'm sorry I'm doing what I said I'd never do again."

"This has been hard for everyone, and I believe you did what you thought best. You have kept us alive and safe, but I'm worried someone is going to kill you. I'm worried I will no longer have a husband and the boys will no longer have a father. I'm worried because you're a little older, you're not as quick or as strong as you used to be, which makes it even more dangerous and that scares the shit out of me, John."

She was right, and I couldn't disagree with anything she said. The one thing she didn't know, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, was that doing this made me feel alive again. I felt the adrenaline rush like the old days. I felt the excitement of doing things I had trained so hard to do. I was learning to turn it on and off again at will. I knew, deep down, my psyche would be paying a heavy toll for the road I now traveled, but I wasn't willing to stop. At this point, there were few options.

"I'm doing my best to avoid that. I'm trying to figure out the best way to keep us safe and get us out of this, but I don't know the answer yet. I'm not looking for situations that put me in danger because I don't want to die either." That helped, but I could tell, even with her silence, she was still struggling with it.

"I have to get off the phone to rest my leg and then get some sleep. I'll call tomorrow and talk to the boys. Diego and I have to lay low for a few days until this blows over. I can't say when exactly, but we'll get back together soon, I promise. I love you."

"I love you too, John. Good night."

Diego returned with some Vicodin for my pain, a first aid kit, some food and a twelve-pack of Mexican beer. There was the drink we needed. I didn't ask where he got the meds and didn't care. He tossed me a beer and unwrapped the bandage around my calf, which was now soaked from my blood and examined the wound.

"The EMTs did a good job. Doesn't look too bad, but you're gonna need stitches, amigo. No healing by itself for this one. It doesn't look infected yet, but you can't wait too long."

He pulled a new bandage out of the bag, redressed my wound and tapped my leg.

"What the fuck," I said, and threw the full beer at him.

He caught it and popped the tab. "Thanks, and I'm sure you'll live."

I shook my head and mumbled, "Asshole" under my breath and reached for the painkillers.

After popping a couple Vicodin and some more antibiotics, we ate and hit the beer. We didn't say much, he puffed on his cigar, and I smoked my cigarettes. Neither of us had been this active for a long time, and our minds were catching up and replaying everything. It's what we did. Were we on active duty, we would be sitting in a debrief, going over everything, but we weren't. We were two civilians, both former Special Forces with a shitload of training and way out of practice.

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Diego was the first to break the silence, "So, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About the op?"

"Diego, that wasn't an op. That was a fucked-up rescue attempt performed by two out of shape old dudes going up against a bunch of wannabees. We got lucky. We saved Viktor, blew up a bunch of shit, and didn't die. That's what I think."

"Well, for a couple of old dudes--and you can keep that out of shape shit to yourself--I thought we did pretty good and kicked some serious ass tonight."

"Yeah, against a bunch of kids who couldn't shoot their way out of a wet paper bag, who were willing to die for a fucked-up cause, which they did. We are not thirty-something anymore, Diego. I'm 54, and you are 51. There is a reason there is an age cutoff for the teams, and we proved why today. If we'd gone up against anyone else with better training, we probably wouldn't be sitting here talking."

"You have to admit, you loved the rush of being back in it," he said.

"Yeah, you're right, I did. Almost too much and that scares the shit out of me. You and I both took a long time to unfuck our heads, and we jumped back into it like no time has passed."

"We did it for a damned good reason, amigo, and he's alive and in the hospital because of what we did, not the feds, not the cops, not anyone else. It was us. We did that shit because we had to, because we owed him, because of the promises we made to each other, signed in our own blood. I know you haven't forgotten that shit," he said, almost irritated.

"No, I haven't and never will. I will never regret helping Viktor, or you and any of our other brothers, but we used to believe we were unstoppable, fearless, and sometimes even unkillable, but as I've gotten older, I've realized there is more to life than what we used to do. I learned how important my wife, kids, and friends are to me, and I want to be around to see them grow up."

"I get it, bro. I really do. I wish we hadn't needed to do that either, but a promise is a promise, and yeah, you're right. It is going to fuck with my head, but it's the price we knew we would be paying for this, and I would do it again without hesitation. I'm more worried about you getting involved with Global and the Russians because of what it might make you, which is why I'm sticking around--to take care of your sorry old ass," he said.

"Me too, bro, and go fuck yourself."

He chuckled.

Being caught between a rock and a hard place was the best way to describe where I was. I couldn't walk away from either organization. Because of Global, I couldn't stop working with the Russians, and I had to find the best way to deal with them without getting any of us killed in the process. For once I thought, 'Tomorrow's not going to be an easy day and yesterday wasn't so fucking easy either.'

We finished the rest of the twelve-pack, which helped ease the pain in my leg, and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke in the morning to the smell of cigar smoke. Diego was watching TV and cleaning our weapons, puffing on a big stogie. The aroma of fresh coffee on the nightstand to my right hit my nose, and I swung my legs off the bed as Diego went to say something.

The pain that rocketed up my leg and into my brain was blinding. I had hit something with my calf, and when I could focus again, I noticed a big black plastic box on the floor next to the bed. "Holy hell, Diego. What the fuck is this?" I asked, trying to get the pain to subside.

"Yeah, about that. I stepped out this morning and picked it up at the local supercenter. I figured we would need to store all the shit we have somewhere. Leaving it out for the hotel staff to see isn't the best of ideas, and if we need to leave in a hurry, it's one box. Sorry about that." He snickered.

"Asshole," I muttered and stood to go to the bathroom.

I returned from the bathroom, sat down, took a big swig of the coffee, lit a cigarette and inhaled, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs. I was almost out, but that first cigarette always did it for me. Diego reached into a bag and tossed me a pack of smokes, "I figured you might need some, so I got you these while I was out."

Nothing on the agenda for today except stay out of sight. I needed to make a few calls, the first to Nataliy to let him know what happened, the second to Jones, and the third, to Mary and the boys. I was beginning to hate my phones, but first, caffeine.

Diego waited until I finished half my coffee and tossed a newspaper in my direction. "Check this out, bro. We made the front page."

On the front page was a scene resembling a war zone. The headline read 'Skinhead compound raided by FBI.' The FBI got the credit. Our credit. We had done a lot of damage, a lot more than I first thought, but C-4 plastic explosives work wonders. From the picture, it looked like most of the buildings had either been destroyed or burned to the ground. The article stated eleven members of a white-supremacist group, which wasn't named, had been killed after firing on federal law enforcement officers, and twelve members had been arrested for illegal possession of weapons, explosives, and narcotics. The DEA and ATF had also been involved. The next few days would prove useful and frustrating, being cooped up in the hotel. We had stirred up a hornet's nest with the government and BelyyaPrava and couldn't risk showing our faces. We didn't know if they knew who we were but couldn't take that chance.

After I finished my coffee, I called Nataliy. "Good morning, John Hunter." He sounded happy.

"Good Morning, Nataliy."

"I see someone has been busy. BelyyaPrava is not happy but does not know how raid happened. They think they have informant for FBI in their group."

"That's good to hear. How are things on your end?" I didn't want to confirm anything, not knowing if someone had surveillance or might be listening in.

"Things are good. We continue with our business, John Hunter?"

"Yes, in time, Nataliy. I still have some things to do."

"I understand. You call when ready."

Using the satellite phone, I called Jones. "Hello, Mr. Hunter. How are things for you, this morning?

"Things are good. We are taking a couple of days off for some downtime. However, I would like to schedule a medical appointment with a discrete physician, today, if possible."

He didn't need to know the details but understood without them.

"Very well, I'm enjoying the morning headlines. Enjoy your time off and stay in touch. I will make some calls and have a medical professional in your area contact you. If there's anything else you need, please let me know." He hung up.

I told Diego about the tentative doctor visit, and he said he was ready. I used my burner phone and called Mary.

She answered, and I heard the kids in the background. "Hi, honey. Can you talk to the boys now? They've been driving me crazy ever since I told them you'd be calling."

She put me on speakerphone, and I chatted with the boys for about thirty minutes. I listened to the things they had done, the games they had played, pictures they had drawn for me, and anything else they wanted to talk about. It was a good conversation, and it left me missing them even more. I hated being away from her and the boys, having never been away from them this long in their entire life. Now, I felt like an absentee father, connecting with them via phone calls and the occasional visit. I promised them I would make it up to them as soon as I could. It was a promise I hoped I could keep.

Later that morning, the satellite rang from an unknown number. I answered, and the voice of a woman on the other end spoke, "May I speak with John Hunter?"

"This is him. Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"Mr. Jones gave it to me. I'm Dr. Smith. He advised that you need an appointment. How do I get to you?"

If the recommendation came from Jones, she had to know her stuff. "This is a delicate situation. I'm assuming you have the proper equipment?"

"Yes, don't worry about the supplies as everything has been taken care of by Mr. Jones. What is your location?"

"One second." and I put the phone on mute.

"Diego, a doc is calling because of Jones. Says she wants to come to us. I'm not comfortable with letting her show up here by herself."

"Neither am I, amigo. Tell her we'll meet her down at the supercenter parking lot. Ask what she's driving."

"Doc, we'll meet you at the supercenter parking lot. What will you be driving?"

"Mr. Jones' instructions were explicit. I am to come to you."

"Plans change, doc. We're kind of jumpy, and we don't know you, so it's on our terms. So, if you'll tell me what you're driving, we'll meet you there. You'll come with us and make sure you bring your bag. I have a nasty little wound for you to attend to."

"I'll be driving a silver Mercedes S500."

"We'll see you in about 20 minutes. Don't be late."

We were ten minutes away from the supercenter, but we would get there before our scheduled meetup and check the parking lot. Even though Jones was sending her, we didn't like surprises. We had planned to drive around while she looked at my leg. Taking her back to the hotel was a no-go unless we wanted to change hotels after, which we weren't too keen on doing. So far, we had no issues where we were staying and didn't want to create any by giving away our location.

We dressed in casual wear, both carrying concealed, and Diego stashed one of the AK-74 machine pistols under the front seat. I sat in the back and had one of the ARs on the floor at my feet. We pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later and scanned it. Nothing seemed out of place, but we made a couple of trips around the perimeter just to be safe.

She was parked and waiting away from the main entrance. We pulled up beside her, driver's side to driver's side and Diego rolled the window down and told her to get in the back with me. She had her bag, and as she got in, I showed her the pistol in my hand.

"Hand me the bag, doc, if you please."

"I'm not armed, and I'm doing this as a favor to Mr. Jones."

"Favor or not, doc, hand me the bag now," I demanded, holding out my hand. With reluctance, she passed the bag to me, and I looked inside. It was a regular physician's bag with a few extra things including sutures.

"Thanks. Can't be too careful these days," and I threw my left leg across her lap, "get started."

"You can't expect me to work in these conditions and we're moving."

"Not only do I expect you to work in these conditions, I expect you to do a good job. We'll stop if you need to do anything delicate. You let my friend in the driver's seat know, and he'll pull over."

Diego drove us out of the parking lot. After we hit the main road, she rolled up my pants, pulled a pair of rubber gloves from her bag and unbandaged my calf. The wound was still leaking, and she spread it open, causing me to wince in pain.

"That's quite the nasty wound you have there, Mr. Hunter. You are going to need quite a few sutures, both inside and out to close this up. There also may be some intramuscular damage, but I won't know without an MRI. Can you walk well?"

"Yes, and besides the obvious hole in my leg, it doesn't hurt that bad. I've been babying it." I smiled.

"Well, I'm not going to try and put sutures in while we're moving, so we'll need to find someplace to pull over."

Diego drove for another five minutes, found a small shopping center, and parked away from all the cars. He would watch for other vehicles while the doc did her business.

She pulled out a sterile pad and put it under my leg. With the syringes from her bag, she cleaned the area around the wound with saline and administered the local, both inside and out. The inside shots burned like acid was being injected into my wound, but the pain subsided as the anesthetic took effect. She flushed the wound again with sterile saline and poked around inside to check for any debris or contamination. I guess she didn't find any, but she flushed the wound again. She gave me fifteen sutures on the inside on both sides of my calf, and another ten on the outside on both sides to close the wound.

With a final wrapping, she said, "Looks like you'll be ok. Keep an eye on it, and if there's any sign of infection, abnormal discharge, abnormal swelling, or constant sharp pain, you'll need to get to a physician or emergency room right away. This is the best I can do under the circumstances. Here are some strong antibiotics. Take them with food, every single one, even if you feel better, and here's some Vicodin for the pain. Take these sparingly. Now, can you take me back to my car please?"

"Sure thing, doc. Let's go," and I tapped Diego on the shoulder.

We returned her to her car, and I thanked her for her help. She turned to me and said, "And it's doctor, by the way."

Diego just smiled back at me.