Chapter 2
Sasha leaned back on her heels, then slowly straightened, wincing as her back screamed. She smiled down at the young woman in the very early stages of labor. “Everything looks good, Yalta,” she said in a cheerful voice, knowing the woman didn’t understand English well but would recognize her tone. It was hard to keep the worry back though. The woman had an extremely narrow pelvis and could have a bad time of it. “But we need to get you to the clinic where we can keep an eye on you.”
A series of musical voices rose above her as the driver translated her words to the men and women filling the small room. The accommodations were tight and there was barely enough room to give the woman any privacy.
From the dark looks and deep tones of those muttering around her, she figured it didn’t matter what she said, her suggestion wasn’t going to be allowed. In an ideal situation the young mother-to-be should have been moved to the hospital. But the refugee camp didn’t have its own hospital and the closest one was overcrowded, short staffed. If Mother Nature wanted to, she could make things very difficult for this young woman. Therefore she needed to be where Sasha or one of the other doctors was close to keep an eye on her.
She didn’t have much room at the clinic but instinct said this delivery wasn’t going to be smooth or easy. She picked up her bag but that caused another uproar. She turned to the driver and asked, “What’s the problem?”
“They want you to stay,” Jamel said with a shrug. “They say you aren’t allowed to leave.”
With a sharp look she responded in a cool voice. “Yalta needs to be at the medical center. I have dozens of other people who need my assistance.”
As she turned to walk out of the small shelter several men stepped in front of her. She pulled her radio out and sent a message back to the clinic. “I’m at Yalta’s place. She has just started labor. I’m being asked to stay,” but she paid careful attention to the word asked. There was no asking being done here. They were going to force her to stay whether she liked it or not. The young father-to-be sat beside his wife and didn’t look ready to let Yalta leave. Sasha said, “Requesting assistance.”
“Understood,” cracked the voice on the other end of her radio. And she hoped they did. She wasn’t into strong arming her way out of here, and if someone got hurt in the process, that wasn’t going to help anyone.
A delay here was going to have serious implications for other patients at the clinic. She’d been forced here by the driver who was related to Yalta. He’d been adamant that she see his cousin. And she was glad she had, but they had rules here for a darn good reason. And safety of the medical team was one of them. With the rush to this spot, she hadn’t had a chance to let anyone know where she went. Now, almost two hours later she’d been able to call through.
She returned to her patient’s side. A film of sweat covered the young woman’s forehead. She wasn’t in terrible pain but was obviously discomfited by the situation. Sasha reached down and held her hand.
Yalta squeezed her hand tight.
“You’ll be fine,” Sasha said calmly and smiled at the young woman.
Only this would take time. Time Sasha didn’t have. She checked her watch and mentally calculated. Security would be a half hour getting here. And then if everything went smoothly, it would be the same time to return to the clinic. If Yalta’s family became difficult then well…it would take longer. The refugee camp solved many problems for these people but was a short term answer. When that short term turned long term the refugees became frustrated, and violence broke out. The atmosphere had been less than peaceful these last few weeks.
Her three-month stint here was almost done. She was ready to go home. But it made her feel guilty. These people needed her – in fact, they needed dozens like her. One doctor could only do so much. And with a dozen more refugee camps around the country, the government was calling out for assistance of every kind. The newest and largest camp along the border had two full hospitals and seven clinics. She didn’t have anything close to that here. There were two clinics at opposite ends of the compound.
In the distance she heard the familiar sound of a truck. She hoped it was her security detail. She hadn’t had to use one the whole time she’d been here, but things had gotten more difficult lately. And she was finding her sense of security had thinned.
Two more days left then she’d be safely back home in California. She gave a snort that had Yalta look at her anxiously. She squeezed the young girl’s hand reassuringly. And tried to keep her reactions to herself. It was a little difficult though when she remembered that going home had its own set of problems.
Greg. Her ex-husband would be there.
They were divorced. The ink dry over nine months ago. She didn’t want to see him. There was no reason to, he was living with Sasha’s ex-best friend as well. Only they all lived in Coronado. Greg and Maureen were in the Navy and lived on base in the same house Sasha had shared with him. Nothing like catching the two of them in bed together to find out who was really there for her.
Of course listening to her husband blame her for being married to her job had smarted. She’d worked hard to get where she was. She completed her residency and went immediately into her specialty, all at a very young age. She had the brains and a talent for surgery, and now as she specialized in spinal injuries she saw more of those brave men and women in service than she liked. Coronado was big, but not big enough she wouldn’t trip over them at any moment. And that was to be avoided at all costs.
It had been hard to live there. Even though she no longer lived on base, she was forever looking over her shoulder and avoiding her favorite haunts as they’d been their favorite haunts.
Leaving had been a good answer. When the call came out for medical volunteers here, she jumped at it. She’d hoped volunteering would help her gain distance and perspective. And it had. But it had also shown her the lost dreams that would never happen now. The cottage in Maine she and Greg had hoped to buy to be closer to his family. Or the three children they’d planned to have starting in a year or two from now. Something brought home to her even more with Yalta here beside her.
And that just sent her into a funk.
She was as much to blame as her ex was.
He had a right to make his own choices, but his methodology…well it sucked.
Then there was her best friend, Maureen. They’d gone to school together and been there for each other ever since. Apparently she’d been there for Greg as well.
But as she stared down at Yalta about to give birth in the refugee camp, a young woman who’d lost so damn much due to war, and yet had gained an opportunity for a new future, she realized she was in a similar position herself. And that her trip here had done what it had been meant to do.
By taking her out of her own sorrows and placing her where she could see the reality of so many thousands of other people worse off than she was…she’d healed.
Raised voices at the door startled her. She could hear the kerfuffle as security came to retrieve her. She smiled down at the young girl. “Do you want to come with me?”
The girl’s gaze slid to the side and the men standing glared at her.
“Right. You do but you don’t think you’ll be able to. Well, that’s not necessarily their choice.” She stood up and turned to speak with security. She motioned at Yalta. “She is coming to the clinic.”
The men nodded. She was relieved to see four big men here to pick her up. And then she caught sight of the guns – the proof that there were bigger problems to solve here. The men transferred Yalta to a portable stretcher and quickly loaded her up on their vehicle.
Sasha turned to the driver who’d brought her to the home and said, “Tell them she needs more care than I can give her here. They can visit her in an hour at the clinic.” And with a guard at her side, she walked out to the truck.
She hopped up onto the backseat where she could keep an eye on her patient, and with a still silence all around them, they slowly drove through the crowd. These people had lost everything. But they’d managed to retain who they were. She had no intention of changing that or the way they lived, but if there was something she could do to save a life or in this case two lives, then she was obligated to do it.
The vehicle slowly wound through the camp back to the medical center. She could wish for a delivery of more medical supplies, but that was likely dreaming. She missed the simple necessities of her medical world and the ease with which she could get them.
At the clinic Yalta was unloaded and carried into one of the small rooms. Sasha followed behind.
“Dr. Sasha?”
She turned, drumming up a tired smile. “Yes?”
She didn’t recognize the soldier in front of her. He motioned her to come into the supply room. She’d been planning to go there anyway so she stepped through expecting to see the same person handling inventory as always.
Turning, she looked around and frowned. The room was empty and the back loading door open. “Where is–”
Something heavy slammed into her head. The force sent her to her knees then to the floor. Something was shoved in her mouth, a hood pulled over her head. Then she knew no more.
*
Salty. The wind blowing in his face had a saltiness to it that was unmistakable. Cooper studied the waterfront shack in front of him. Did it hold Dr. Sasha and the three others his team was looking for? They’d barely landed when they’d heard four US members of the medical team had all gone missing. Not just Dr. Sasha. There was plenty of confusion at this point as to whether Dr. Sasha had been missing since morning or if she’d gone missing, been found and then had disappeared again.
Bottom line. None of the four could be located.
They’d been tracked this far. Now Cooper and his team, jointly with the Turkish military, were spread out in the woods around the shack.
Intel had led the teams here to the Turkish coastline a few hours out of Mersin.
But no one had confirmed the hostages were inside. The building was derelict, unlit with no windows, and showed no signs of being inhabited. He damned well hoped they were inside. They had no other information to go on.
He rubbed the scar across his back. Some things never changed. Some things one never forgot. He’d been a long time getting back to active duty and even longer back to his SEAL team. But it was Dr. Sasha that had made it possible. He loved the guys he worked with – trusted them all. Damn good men. Even after all he’d been through there was nothing else in the world he wanted to do.
His headset crackled in his ear. All quiet.
But the doc who’d saved his life and helped him make it back to the job he loved was supposed to be inside that hellhole.
Keeping low and moving fast, Cooper raced around the corner of the tree to the far side of the shack. Keeping to the shadows his eyes moved constantly, looking for something – anything – that would confirm the hostages were here.
Nothing moved. Now the moon was sneaking out from behind the clouds, and he wanted to take another look. He quickly relayed his new position to the others. Moonlight shone down, rippling on the waves as they lapped up against the long wharf.
There were no vehicles to show how the hostages had been transported to this point, and given the shack’s location, they could only assume the hostages arrived by water. And would be taken out the same way.
And that couldn’t be allowed to happen.
So far there’d been only silence surrounding the kidnapping. There’d been no demands made. No videos posted online. No boasting or laughing. Just an eerie silence that was more haunting than anything else.
Something caught his eye. He had no idea what he was looking at, but it was odd. He narrowed his focus, tried to identify the object and realized it was an older model army rig camouflaged in the trees.
Finally, a sign.