CHAPTER 10

Regina Safire looked around the darkened cafeteria as she slowly walked back to the booth where her father sat, brooding over a bottle of water. She had checked the wounded soldier again, and found his condition unchanged, though his pain had increased. There was nothing for her to prescribe for him other than Advil and Tylenol, which had been found in the kitchen first aid kit. She’d given him more than the maximum doses of both, but of course they were too weak to really put down the pain. The poor man would just have to suffer until he could be delivered to a real medical facility. She ran a hand through her dark hair, and hoped that would be soon.

Her father barely looked up as she slid across the bench facing him. She reached across the table the put her hand over his, but he didn’t react to the contact.

“Dad?”

Safire sighed lightly, that perpetual indicator of impatience she’d grown accustomed to while growing up. “What is it, Regina.” His voice was flat, expressionless, like it always was when he was stressed. The light pouring in through the big windows overlooking Lexington Avenue illuminated his hair, surrounding his head with a nimbus of gray and white.

“We’re going to be all right,” she said, voice low. “We’re going to get out of this. These guys, they seem pretty well connected, and they obviously know what they’re doing.”

Safire smiled thinly, his gaze rooted on the surface of the table between them. “You think so, Regina?”

“These are some pretty tough hombres, dad.”

“And you think that toughness is enough to get us out of this?”

“They have resources. They can communicate with people outside of the city, or at least they say they can. And the government wouldn’t send just anybody to get you out of here. They’d send the best they had.”

“That man, McDaniels... do you know what he was doing before he was sent to New York?” When she shook her head, Safire grinned widely, like some sort of jack-o-lantern. “He was putting together PowerPoint presentations for generals to use in their briefings. Not exactly a signal they sent the best they had, is it?”

Regina frowned. “How do you know that?”

For the first time, Safire met her eyes. He looked at her for a moment, and she suddenly felt stupid and childish. It was obvious that her father knew what he did from a trusted source, otherwise he wouldn’t have said what he had. She was about to apologize when he suddenly turned and jerked his chin toward one of the soldiers, sitting at a nearby table. They had assembled a veritable feast of thick sandwiches, chips, soda, slices of cake and pie. She had heard them discussing the merits of some beer they had found in the kitchen as well, but oddly enough, they weren’t drinking any. Only soda and water. She presumed that indicated they were disciplined enough to resist the charms of alcohol, even during a nightmare like the one they were all living.

“One of them told me,” he said.

Regina frowned again. “Why would they do that?”

“Perhaps they don’t like the major. I understand they normally work for someone else. I really don’t know why I was told that, unless it was an attempt at humor.”

Regina ran both hands through her hair. “Well, not too funny if it was.”

Safire only shrugged and went back to contemplating the tabletop. Regina touched his hand again.

“I’m getting hungry. Do you want anything to eat?” she asked.

Safire shook his head silently. Regina patted his hand and slid out of the booth and headed toward the kitchen. She walked past the maintenance worker, sitting with his two daughters, both of whom were now awake. They regarded Regina with blank expressions as she walked past, and she smiled at them. The older girl, who was maybe 19 or 20, smiled back; the younger one, perhaps 10, kept her expression neutral as Regina walked by.

The kitchen was spectacularly bright compared to the dining area, and she had to blink against the light for a few moments before her eyes adjusted. When they did, she opened the refrigerators and freezers until she found what she had been looking for: one of the walk-in refrigerators did indeed contain several cases of beer of various brands. She pulled a bottle of Corona Light from one, found a bottle opener, and uncapped it. Lifting the cold bottle to her lips, she relished the taste of the chilled beer as it raced past her tongue. Despite everything they had gone through, a cold beer was still welcome. Maybe because of the hardships they had endured, it tasted better than ever.

“Now that’s what I was talking about!”

The sudden voice cut through the air in the sterile kitchen like a knife. Startled, Regina turned to see two soldiers standing inside: the tall one she knew as Finelly, and the shorter, darker one whose name she couldn’t recall. Markie? Maxie? Finelly looked at her openly, a smile on his big, country-boy face.

“And what were you talking about?” she asked.

“About drinking a few damned beers, but we all know the first sergeant would land on us with both boots.” Finelly stepped toward her, still smiling. He had removed his helmet, and his straw-blond hair was shorn so short on the sides of his head that it reminded her of a whitewall tire. His eyes dipped down, taking in her figure. She presumed it was an automatic thing for him to do—he was a soldier, after all—but she was surprised to discover that beneath her initial sensation of disgust, her nipples had hardened and her cleft had grown moist.

Jesus. Of all the times to get horny!

“And why would he ‘land on you with both boots’?” she asked, and tipped the bottle back to her lips again.

“Because he’s an all work, no play kind of guy,” Finelly said, drifting closer to her. “He lives life by the letter of the law, like all senior noncoms do. I don’t work for the guy, but you can tell it just by looking at him.”

“He’s a little bit on the stiff side,” the other soldier offered, trying to get into the conversation. Regina looked at him. To her, he looked like just another goofy Jersey Shore guido trying to strike a pose, even under all the Army gear. But this guido wasn’t as in your face as most of his civilian counterparts were. If it was because of his training or because his personality wasn’t in it, she couldn’t tell which.

“Like you’d know anything about that, Maxi.” Finelly walked past Regina without touching her and opened the walk-in refrigerator she’d pulled the bottle from. She watched as he regarded the beer wistfully for a long moment.

“Is your name Max?” she asked the other soldier. His name must have been DERWITZ, it was printed on the left side of his uniform. “They keep calling you Maxi.”

Finelly laughed as he slammed the walk-in door shut. “Yeah, go ahead, tell her why we call you Maxi,” he said, chortling.

Derwitz looked embarrassed. “Kiss my ass, Finelly.”

“Never mind,” Regina said. She looked around the kitchen. It was time to rustle up some grub and rejoin her father.

“It’s short for maxi-pad,” Finelly said, rather indelicately. He looked at her directly, searching for any embarrassment. “We call him that because he’s a constant complainer, as if he’s on his monthly or something. But with Maxi, he’s never not on his monthly, you know what I mean?”

Regina snorted humorlessly. “That’s sweet,” she said with as much venom in her voice as she could muster. “You guys have a remarkable sense of humor. I’ll bet your IQs are off the charts as well.”

“I doubt that,” Finelly said earnestly. “But we did save you guys from the stenches, so maybe we do have some smarts after all, Miss Safire.”

She found some Italian bread more sandwich fixings: cheese, salami, lettuce, tomato, peppers and onions, pickles, the works. And every condiment she could have hoped for, all in an under-counter refrigerator. In another under-counter refrigerator she found even more sandwich meats. The place was stocked.

“I don’t doubt you know how to do your job,” she said, poking through the refrigerator. “And you do it well. But the humor’s a little lost on me. Sorry, I guess I’m not into the whole ‘boys will be boys’ scene.”

“Well, maybe that’ll change.” There was something else in Finelly’s voice, something that tickled the edges of her persona. He was clearly coming on to her. And oddly enough, Regina was surprisingly receptive to it, even though she usually favored what her father disparagingly referred to as “thoroughbreds”: moneyed traders or corporate chieftains, men who made millions with their brains and on occasion, their brawn. Finelly obviously didn’t do much with his brains, but the brawn, oh he had that, in spades.

She turned to him, and hit him with her patented wilting smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Finelly.” As in, You don’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of ever seeing me without my clothes on.

“That was just plain cold,” Finelly said, without a trace of remorse in his voice. He’d either been teasing, or had expected to go down in flames from the get-go.

“Hey Finelly, let’s get what we came for and get back outside,” Derwitz said. “The major and the first shirt should be back any second now, and I want to hear what they got to say.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Finelly said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed some salt and packets of mustard and mayonnaise, while Derwitz grabbed bread and roast beef. He then headed for the door, followed by the taller (and infinitely sexier, Regina thought against her will) Finelly. Finelly turned and looked at her as he backed through the door.

“Don’t go far,” he said. “No one’s really supposed to go anywhere alone, but if you plan on stepping outside of the kitchen, let one of us know.”

“I will,” Regina said. She started to thank him for his concern, but he stepped out of the kitchen, and the door swung shut.

She went ahead and made herself a zesty salami sandwich with oil and vinegar and black pepper, grabbed another beer, and headed back for the dining area. She sat down across from her father again.

“The soldiers were right, there is beer,” she said.

Safire merely grunted, apparently totally uninterested. Regina shrugged mentally and started eating. She was surprised at how utterly ravenous she was, then she realized she had had nothing to eat for almost twelve hours. She consumed her sandwich rapidly, punctuated with draughts from the beer bottle. It was definitely low on the class scale, but the meal was one of the enjoyable she’d had in a long time.

And then, McDaniels and the first sergeant were there, striding across the room. Everyone perked up when they saw the major, and Regina knew exactly why. The man exuded confidence and calm, even though he must have been infinitely more tired than he appeared. And he was clearly educated, much more so than, say, Sergeant Finelly by a long shot. The fact that he was black was not lost upon Regina either. She wondered if his race had made life in the Army easier or harder for him. She’d known many people in the corporate and medical arenas who had experienced a little bit of both, but she imagined the Army was more of a vacuum-sealed environment. Maybe things like color didn’t mean anything in the military.

“All right folks, listen up,” McDaniels said. “In about two hours, we’ll be getting out of here. The Marines are coming for us in one of their V-22s and will upload us from the roof. We just have to keep alive until then.” He looked around. “Where are Rittenour and Leary?”

“Back on the first floor,” Finelly said. “They hit the latrine, grabbed some chow, and headed downstairs. Wanted to keep an eye on whatever’s going on down there.”

McDaniels glanced back at Gartrell. “First sergeant...?”

“Not my idea major, but makes sense. If anything goes down, those two can handle it long enough to pull back, blow up the stairway, and then fight a rear guard if necessary.” Regina noticed the first sergeant met McDaniels’ eyes squarely. There wasn’t much respect and absolutely no obsequiousness in his demeanor. She could almost see the undercurrent of tension between the two men.

Are they enemies? she wondered.

McDaniels turned to the two soldiers who sat at the table, still eating. The third, Jimenez, lay on his left side on the floor, some distance away. He hadn’t moved much since Regina had last examined him.

“Finelly and Derwitz, I want the two of you to head topside once you’ve finished eating,” McDaniels said. “The Marines will be looking to get in and out as quickly as possible, and I would guess you Night Stalkers can help them out on the ground, correct?”

“Hooah,” both soldiers said in unison. Finelly went on to add, “We have IR strobes and radios that talk on their freqs without any problem, sir. What’s the call sign?”

“Thunder Three,” McDaniels said.

Finelly nodded, smiling. “Heh, the Thunder Chickens. Yeah, that’s their real unit des, sir. We worked with them just about a month ago when they got back from Iraq.”

“I’ll consider that to be a good thing, then.” McDaniels nodded to the two Night Stalkers. “Check in with us before you leave for the roof. The first sergeant and I are going to get some chow.” With that, McDaniels turned to leave.

“What about the weather,” Safire asked suddenly.

McDaniels turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Doctor?”

“The weather, major, the weather!” Safire twisted around in the booth and pointed toward the windows that looked out to the east, over the rest of Manhattan, the East River, and the borough of Queens. The dark clouds were still stacking up, and had definitely moved closer than the last time Regina had looked.

“The Marines can handle it,” McDaniels said. “The MV-22 Osprey is one of the most sophisticated airframes in the service today. It’s an all-weather transport, Doctor. Please don’t worry.”

“Fifty dollars,” Safire said.

“Sorry?”

“Fifty dollars that the weather gets in the way,” Safire said. “Fifty dollars says we’re here throughout the night, at the very least.”

McDaniels snorted and looked around the room. Everyone seemed a little bemused by the sudden impulse wager.

“Sure, fifty bucks it is,” McDaniels agreed with a shrug, before he turned for the kitchen. Gartrell headed for the wounded soldier, Jimenez, and knelt beside him. They talked softly.

“Why did you make that bet with the major?” Regina asked her father.

“To keep him honest,” Safire said. “I’m not sure he’s been thinking of alternatives. Maybe fifty dollars will jumpstart his mind.”