Free Last Surgeon by Michael Palmer Page A

of even one other title. “Doctor” written in several ways on a number of the covers. Clearly Belle wasn’t in it as a collector. The comics store around the corner from Jillian’s place in D.C. had priced the complete issuance at just over a hundred dollars.
    “Maybe we ought to talk before that breakfast arrives,” Jillian said, “unless you can guarantee me you can stay awake after you eat it.”
    “Heck, I was thinkin’ of makin’ the grits a double order.”
    “Kyle, you know why I’m here. I’m here because I’m very interested in learning more about this Dr. Nick Fury.”
    “Well, what do you know so far?” Roach asked.
    “Nothing really,” Jillian confessed. “I spent a few hours in the hotel business center Googling every combination of ‘Nick Fury,’ ‘Dr. Nick Fury,’ ‘N. Fury’ I could imagine. All I turned up were references to the comic book character.”
    “Well, that’s to be expected. Like I said, I know only one Dr. Nick Fury and I doubt he’s going to come up in any Web search,” Roach explained. “See, Nick Fury, he’s a comic book character, all right. But
Dr. Nick Fury
, heck, that boy is as real as these here menus.”
    “You convinced me it was important we meet in person to share what you know. Why? Is he some sort of criminal or something? Do you think he murdered my sister?”
    Roach laughed in a deep, engaging way. “Ma’am, Dr. Nick Fury is a saint, not a killer. At one and the same time, he ’uz one of the most caring doctors and one of the toughest soldiers I’ve ever known.”
    The waitress brought over their food. Jillian studied Roach as he took a sip of his black coffee and a lengthy gulp of water before digging in. For a man of war, he seemed very much at peace-except for his eyes. She remembered the serenity in her own life before Belle died. Getting over their parents’ death had been such a long climb for both sisters. Belle had been a constant source of strength throughout the ordeal and together they kept each other grounded.
    “I want to know everything I can about him,” Jillian said.
    Roach paused and looked beyond her. She could see the years in Afghanistan cross his countenance like a cloud.
    “I didn’t join the army until I was twenty-eight,” he began. “My skill wasn’t with a gun much as it was with a wrench. But I was sent out on patrol more than once. Did HVAC work before, so naturally I eventually became an army mechanic. They shipped me all over the world fixing stuff.”
    “Did you enjoy it?”
    “Yeah. Good work. Steady pay. Saw the world. I was in my midthirties when I got the call to go to Afghanistan-you know, right after nine-eleven, when we were turning up the heat on the country. Not that it actually needed any more heat.”
    He attempted a laugh, but this time quickly gave up. No matter what, there was simply nothing amusing about the place.
    “That’s where you met Dr. Nick Fury? In Afghanistan?”
    “Yeah,” Roach said. “Only his name wasn’t Dr. Nick Fury. It was Dr. Nick Garrity. ‘Fury’ was just a nickname one of the grunts gave him because of his first name, and it sort of stuck. He was like a water bug over there-all over the place, teaching Marines some basic combat medicine techniques that saved lives in the arena, volunteering at the local clinic, working more shifts at the hospital than assigned. The Energizer Bunny. Didn’t have a patch on his eye, like the comic book Fury, but man, he sure was tough like him. Can you pass me the ketchup, please?”
    Jillian slid the bottle across. Roach reached for it with his left hand. It was then Jillian noticed a long, jagged scar running from the tip of his index finger down past the base of his thumb and disappearing into his sleeve.
    “What happened there?” Jillian asked.
    “Well now, that there is my permanent reminder of Dr. Nick Fury,” he said, speaking between bites. “Crushed my hand in a tool press. Fury was on duty. Spent hours repairing