never felt so alone, so vulnerable.
Closing her eyes only exacerbated her alarm, for she could feel the blood coursing through her head, pounding her ears.
McDermott reached the building’s entrance and she watched him lean his shoulder against the doorway, his rifle pointing inside.
Impulse gripped her. She ran after him. Gripping her cameraclose to her midriff to stop it swinging, she hurtled forwards, catching up with him. He turned round, annoyed to see her at his shoulder.
‘Couldn’t bear it on my own any longer,’ she heaved.
‘You’d have been okay back there,’ he snapped.
Sergeant Rath bounded down the stairs. ‘All clear, Lieutenant – empty.’
McDermott surveyed the street, pressed the button on his radio. ‘You got anything, Herman?’
‘All quiet this end, sir.’
He turned to Alex. ‘In the Bradley, quick,’ he demanded.
The vehicle was still a distance away, blocking the end of the street. Should she run to it? The rear hatch opened. She could see Joe Herman beckoning her forward. McDermott urged her, ‘Go, go.’
She sprinted towards the Bradley, any second expecting the sound of a shot. Just feet away from the open hatch and Herman’s outstretched hands, she felt her legs starting to give way. Gritting her teeth and with a final surge, she managed to scramble aboard.
On the floor of the Bradley, shaking and bathed in sweat, she refused Herman’s offer to help her up.
‘Please, just leave me for a minute,’ she pleaded.
‘It’s okay, now – you’re safe in here,’ he whispered gently.
She looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. He offered his hand. Letting out a deep, shuddering, sigh, she sat up and allowed him to guide her to a seat.
A minute later, McDermott’s all-clear message crackled on Herman’s radio. If she trusted the lieutenant’s judgement, it meant she was safe to go back out. Totally shattered, she couldn’t summon up the nerve.
The safety of the Bradley cocooned her. Eyes closed, she leant back, exhausted, eventually curling up into a self-protecting ball. When she eventually came round, she realised she’d been sucking her thumb like a baby.
It was at this moment she decided she must leave Iraq.
* * *
Alex phoned the major the next day saying she was unwell. She wasn’t lying, she felt wretched. The attack on the patrol had left its mark and, in the night, the Kandahar dream’s severed arm tried to choke her.
Running a bath – hot water at last – she sank down in the tub to think. She wanted out of Iraq. Not because of the people or the country itself, but what it had become, a maelstrom. As sympathetic as she felt about the shambolic state of the nation, she had to leave for her own sanity.
Whether Kowolski liked it or not, there was no other choice.
* * *
He put the press cuttings down on the table of the Palestine Hotel lounge area with a bang that startled her. ‘And what the hell is this, Alex?’
She looked at the picture, her picture, of the shooting incident. ‘Ooh, you’ve even printed it off in colour – you shouldn’t have,’ she countered sarcastically.
‘Listen, sweetheart, I’ll have you off this case and back home chasing ambulances or whatever you do. There’ll be no more embeds, no more Iraq, nada . This is bullshit, entirely against the rules and you know it… no clearance, no confirmation, no official spokesman line.’
‘It’s what I do, remember?’
He leaned forward, towering over her. Several people sitting nearby cast their eyes towards the raised voices. ‘And who did write this piece of shit – your boyfriend?’
‘Everything’s a true reflection of the incident. The truth bother you?’
‘Let me ask you something, Alex. You a bleeding heart liberal or something – or are you just so way left of the Democrats it clouds your thinking?’
She stared at him, a look of indignation, her eyes narrowing. What did he really know about her? Was he goading her into something
Closing her eyes only exacerbated her alarm, for she could feel the blood coursing through her head, pounding her ears.
McDermott reached the building’s entrance and she watched him lean his shoulder against the doorway, his rifle pointing inside.
Impulse gripped her. She ran after him. Gripping her cameraclose to her midriff to stop it swinging, she hurtled forwards, catching up with him. He turned round, annoyed to see her at his shoulder.
‘Couldn’t bear it on my own any longer,’ she heaved.
‘You’d have been okay back there,’ he snapped.
Sergeant Rath bounded down the stairs. ‘All clear, Lieutenant – empty.’
McDermott surveyed the street, pressed the button on his radio. ‘You got anything, Herman?’
‘All quiet this end, sir.’
He turned to Alex. ‘In the Bradley, quick,’ he demanded.
The vehicle was still a distance away, blocking the end of the street. Should she run to it? The rear hatch opened. She could see Joe Herman beckoning her forward. McDermott urged her, ‘Go, go.’
She sprinted towards the Bradley, any second expecting the sound of a shot. Just feet away from the open hatch and Herman’s outstretched hands, she felt her legs starting to give way. Gritting her teeth and with a final surge, she managed to scramble aboard.
On the floor of the Bradley, shaking and bathed in sweat, she refused Herman’s offer to help her up.
‘Please, just leave me for a minute,’ she pleaded.
‘It’s okay, now – you’re safe in here,’ he whispered gently.
She looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. He offered his hand. Letting out a deep, shuddering, sigh, she sat up and allowed him to guide her to a seat.
A minute later, McDermott’s all-clear message crackled on Herman’s radio. If she trusted the lieutenant’s judgement, it meant she was safe to go back out. Totally shattered, she couldn’t summon up the nerve.
The safety of the Bradley cocooned her. Eyes closed, she leant back, exhausted, eventually curling up into a self-protecting ball. When she eventually came round, she realised she’d been sucking her thumb like a baby.
It was at this moment she decided she must leave Iraq.
* * *
Alex phoned the major the next day saying she was unwell. She wasn’t lying, she felt wretched. The attack on the patrol had left its mark and, in the night, the Kandahar dream’s severed arm tried to choke her.
Running a bath – hot water at last – she sank down in the tub to think. She wanted out of Iraq. Not because of the people or the country itself, but what it had become, a maelstrom. As sympathetic as she felt about the shambolic state of the nation, she had to leave for her own sanity.
Whether Kowolski liked it or not, there was no other choice.
* * *
He put the press cuttings down on the table of the Palestine Hotel lounge area with a bang that startled her. ‘And what the hell is this, Alex?’
She looked at the picture, her picture, of the shooting incident. ‘Ooh, you’ve even printed it off in colour – you shouldn’t have,’ she countered sarcastically.
‘Listen, sweetheart, I’ll have you off this case and back home chasing ambulances or whatever you do. There’ll be no more embeds, no more Iraq, nada . This is bullshit, entirely against the rules and you know it… no clearance, no confirmation, no official spokesman line.’
‘It’s what I do, remember?’
He leaned forward, towering over her. Several people sitting nearby cast their eyes towards the raised voices. ‘And who did write this piece of shit – your boyfriend?’
‘Everything’s a true reflection of the incident. The truth bother you?’
‘Let me ask you something, Alex. You a bleeding heart liberal or something – or are you just so way left of the Democrats it clouds your thinking?’
She stared at him, a look of indignation, her eyes narrowing. What did he really know about her? Was he goading her into something
Similar Books
