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As she walked by Pavlovich, his skin now graying, her heart tugged in her chest. Tears burned in her eyes. Halting, Daria stared down at the man, eyes focused again on the quarter-moon birthmark on the side of his neck. She felt numb inside, not grief-stricken. And maybe, she supposed, that is the way it should be. Taking out her cell phone, she took a picture of his face, and then one of the birthmark. This was a part of her family history whether she wanted it to be or not. A heaviness entered her chest and she tucked the phone away, slowly walking over toward Nik and the remnants of his team.
Brudin looked up at her, his eyes feral. “Who are you?” he growled in Russian.
Nik, having just sat Duboff down, lifted his head, his gaze pinned on her.
“Just a botanist,” Daria replied coolly, stepping out in front of the little band. She studied the path, never dropping her guard. Valdez could always change his mind and come back.
“Like hell you are,” Brudin snarled.
Nik got up from Duboff’s side, stepped over, and knelt down by Korsak. He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the man’s heart and lungs in turn.
Daria ignored the shaken Brudin, saying nothing. Her hands were at her sides, but the Glock was in her waistband, and the AK-47 hung from her chest harness, each ready to use if necessary.
Nik looked at his watch. “That helo should arrive in another fifteen minutes. Let’s get the wounded to the tree line over there,” and he pointed toward it. “The helo has enough room to land there, just outside the village.”
Daria watched Brudin get up. He limped, his mouth tight, eyes blazing with rage as he and Nik carried Korsak to the impromptu LZ. They came back and Brudin hauled Duboff upright, helping his teammate to his feet.
Nik stood, hands on hips, his gaze on Brudin and Duboff in the distance. Turning, he looked over at Daria. “You’ve got a graze on your arm,” he said, his fingers gently moving around the bloody area. “Let me take care of you now?”
His touch was calming. Daria nodded. “Triage! Stat!” and she gave him a cutting, lopsided smile.
“Yes,” he murmured, helping her sit down next to his ruck. He donned a new pair of latex gloves, producing a bottle of sterile water and a large, clean white gauze pad, quickly cleaning the area around the wound with them. Daria sat positioning herself so that she could keep one eye on the path and the other on the Russians.
She absorbed Nik’s nearness, his quiet, calming strength as he cleansed the wound. It stung and she grimaced, but didn’t flinch away from his ministrations. “What now?” she asked him in a low voice.
“I’m going to get Korsak to the Cusco hospital. They’ll take him in for surgery,” he said grimly.
“Will he live?”
“I hope so. It’s going to be close.”
“If he does?” and she lifted her head, studying his blood-speckled face, his features dirty and sweaty.
“Then,” he rasped, quickly patching up the graze and placing a waterproof bandage around her arm, “we have to move quickly. I need you, once we get to the hospital, to peel off and make a call on your sat phone to Jack. This is our chance to snatch Korsak right out of that hospital, if he makes it through surgery. A US Nightstalker medevac helo that I know is based down in Lima could get him out of here and into CIA hands. We could get him to the States. Peru allows the US to have a few military aircraft within their sovereign territory. I know there’s a medevac on standby down there because of the Special Forces teams in this area. I’m sure Jack can get the CIA to release it to us to fly Korsak out of here and back stateside.”
Daria saw the grim determination in Nik’s features and replied, “If he lives, and we can get him out of here, Dan and you will have political asylum.” She saw his gaze falter for a moment, saw the wash of emotions clearly in his eyes, his game face slipping. They’d been through so much, and Daria recognized the reaction for what it was: adrenaline crash. It exhausted a person suddenly, without warning. It allowed all the withheld emotions to vomit up like a volcano through them and release. It totaled them physically, mentally and emotionally, and only a good night’s sleep would help them recover their previous strength the next day.
“Yes.” He released her arm. “Do you want a sling?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, I want my hands free and available.” Her voice lowered. “Brudin’s suspicious.”
“I know he is,” Nik agreed wearily, repacking his ruck and closing it. He stood, pulling it over his shoulders. He held his hand out down to her. Daria took it and he pulled her to her feet.
“What do you think he’ll do?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He’s the wild card.” Nik gave her a concerned look. “We maintain our cover.”
She smiled a little, sliding her arm around his waist for a moment. All Daria wanted to do was move into his arms and feel safe. None of that was possible right now. “Well, one thing he does know,” she said with a chuckle as they began to walk toward the treeline.
“What’s that?”
“That I’m on your side. I wasn’t firing at the Russian team,” and she gave him an enigmatic look, grinning.
Nik gave her a tired grin in return. “Yes, he’ll figure that much out. But whatever you do? Once we land at the Cusco hospital? Get away from all of us. Go make that call. I’ll meet you in the ER unit downstairs, afterward. Brudin is going to have to have surgery on that leg of his. He’s probably gotten one of the bones fractured and that means they’ll keep him in the hospital.”
“You and I can leave the hospital,” Daria agreed.
“Duboff will be staying in the hospital as well.” Nik studied her briefly. “We can use the Russian apartment that Korsak leased. No one else will be there but us. We can talk and make further plans there.” His mouth flattened, his eyes growing anxious. “Korsakhasto survive.”
