Free Vengeance: A Derek Stillwater Novel (Derek Stillwater Thrillers Book 8) by Mark Terry Page B

didn’t think it was major, although he had a hell of a headache.
    Tearing at one of his shirtsleeves, he pressed the patch of cloth to his skull, put the Fiat back into drive and raced north.

    It was the middle of the night by the time Derek pulled the wheezing Fiat up to the front gate of Incirlik Air Base in Turkey, 210 miles from Aleppo. He had stopped twice to check on Hammond, who remained unconscious through the entire journey. Parts of the trip were lost in a haze; he wasn’t certain if he had been asleep or in a fog of pain and exhaustion. He only remembered thinking he had to keep moving forward.
    Derek remembered seeing a handful of commercial vehicles heading north and way too many refugees pushing bicycles or piled into slow-moving vehicles. Hundreds, easily. Crossing the border turned out to be fairly straightforward. He’d studied options before the mission and knew of a dozen routes that bypassed the official border crossings. That part he remembered, because for a time he was afraid that he had gotten lost and disoriented, that he might be accidentally heading south or east.
    The guards at the gate were more than a little suspicious. Derek stepped out of the car, hands up, and stumbled, sinking to the tarmac. Hands raised, he said, “Americans. I’m with the State Department. My partner is seriously wounded.”
    The Air Force guard said, “So are you, buddy.”

    The Air Force doctor had red hair and freckles. She said, “This shoulder is bad. You’ve had multiple surgeries already. On the knee, the other shoulder, and abdomen.”
    “That was a gunshot.”
    She looked down at him where he laid. “Maybe you should stop doing that.”
    “Good idea.”
    “Well, I’m going to have a surgeon come in and look at the shoulder. I think a head X-ray is due for the wound to the head. Gunshot, too?”
    “Just a graze.”
    “Oh shut up. Half an inch to the left and you wouldn’t be here at all.”
    “I try not to think about it.”
    She studied him. “You’re with State?”
    “You bet.”
    “And your friend? He’s in pretty bad shape. Worse than you.”
    “Is he going to make it?”
    “I think so. But he’s got a longer road ahead of him. Two wounds to the torso. Infection. He with State, too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Mmm-hmmm. After the surgeon sees you I’ll get you some pain meds unless he’s going to do surgery right away.”
    The surgeon decided to operate on his shoulder in about an hour. While Derek waited an IV dripped into his arm and a humorless man in a dark suit with credentials identifying him as being with the State Department asked him questions.
    “What is the exact location of this apartment you were in?”
    Derek showed him on a map.
    “And the doctor’s office? His brother’s café?”
    The questions went on and on, all addressed with heavy skepticism. The man had dark hair worn short and parted on the left, a fleshy face and razor burn where he shaved at his neck. Anger kept popping up in Derek like a lizard climbing out of its hole.
    “So you didn’t accomplish your mission.”
    Derek stared at the man for a long moment. He finally said, “Get out.”
    “Dr. Stillwater—”
    “Out!”
    “I’m not finished with my questions.”
    Derek rolled sideways off the bed onto his feet. The IV line tugged at his arm. He wasn’t in great shape, but he was in good enough shape to kick this asshole’s teeth in. The guy scrambled to his feet, sudden fear on his round face. “I’ll put this in my report!”
    “You do that. And when you talk to Bob Mandalevo, tell him he can stick his report up his ass, too.”
    The nurse knocked at the door at that moment, stepped in and eyed the two men. “Ready?”
    “Yes,” Derek snapped.
    “We’ll talk later,” the State Department flunky promised.
    “No,” Derek said. “We won’t. I’ll talk to the Secretary, but I won’t talk to you. But give him my message. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
    Expressionless, the official