The medic took my captured AK47 clone before he allowed me onto the helicopter. I wasn’t happy, but I still had the cane gun and the utility knife, so at least I felt like I had a chance. I mean it could all go rank, if the CIA guys got into it. I also knew I could not communicate with anyone without the pukes getting access to it.
On the giant aircraft carrier I waited in a metal chair, outside of the sickbay, while they stabilized Martin. “He has a 50 /50 chance,” The doctor said to me.
“That’s enough for him,” I replied smiling.
“Come on in let’s xray your leg,” he demanded.
“It will wait till we get the Irishman into a hospital,” I said.
“He will be on a chopper for the Athens airport in twenty minutes. From there it is an Air Force hospitial in Germany for him.” the doctor said.
“I can find someone there to look at my leg,” I suggested.
At the Air Force hospital they insisted that I take the drugs and get off the leg. We compromised. I sat in a comfortable chair, either in the waiting room, or in Martin’s room. I sat there with my cane gun and my leg up. I was on Vicodin so my mind didn’t slip too far out of joint.
I sat or slept in that chair for two days. I ate bad hospital food and drank gallons of worse coffee. I did it while I waited for either Swamp Thing, or the CIA to show up. No one did. In the end the answer as to why they left us alone came in a phone call from Jennifer.
“Hon I got your package and it’s safe. I got a call from your boss. I explained to him all about a dead man switch,” she said.
“Thank you Jen,” since I had not sent her a package, it was all I could manage without giving myself away.
“You just get better and bring the Irishman home with you,” she said.
“Yes Ma’am and thanks,” I said. The Irishman remark was her way of telling me they were looking at him as well. Jen and I were close enough to have an unspoken code.
The men in cheap suits stayed away, because Jen had convinced them that she had the information to ruin them. Even though she had no idea what information that would take. With Jennifer it was always smoke and mirrors, but only I knew that. One day I would have to tell her everything.
After four days they brought Martin out of the drug induced coma. I was the second person he saw. “My God, I wasn’t dreaming.” he said with a weak smile.
“More like a nightmare,” I said trying to keep it light.
“Doc, this is my own guardian angel,” he said with a sad little smile.
“I know Maxine has sat in a chair by your bed, since you came in. All the nurses and med techs are terrified. They were afraid that if you died, she might go postal and beat us all to death with a bedpan.”
It was a weak laugh from Martin, but it was a laugh. Then he said, “They have good reason to be afraid.”
After a week Martin was wide awake and in control of himself. It was at that point that I let the doctors repair the torn tendon in my leg. When I came out of the anesthesia, Martin was in the comfortable chair by my bed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked happy to see him.
“Just passing by,” he said smiling.
Someone, I’m not sure who, arranged a small apartment for us near the hospital. We stayed there for three weeks. “Come on Max let’s do a walk down memory lane tour,” Martin suggested.
‘I don’t have any memories of Europe,” I admitted.
“Ah but I do, come on it will be fun.” he insisted.
“Oh hell alright,” I replied.
We rented a German Ford and began to drive. Martin was full of stories about kidnaps and rescues. Even a couple of assassinations and the foiling of assassinations. It was a grand tour. Toward the end of the month, we managed to find a way to have sex that didn’t hurt either of us.
I got discharged first, then Martin got his walking papers, “So now what?” I asked.
“I could go back,” he admitted.
“They tried to kill you,” I said.
“Death would have been preferable to where I was,” he replied. “You know that a full rescue team had no chance at all. Only a complete fool like you could have pulled it off.”
“You could come home with me,” I suggested.
“And do what serve summons?”he asked.
“Oh, I’m sure we can find enough trouble for you,” I replied.
“Tell you what how about we take those three months you have left and get a couple of mopeds and do a real poor man’s tour of Eastern Europe. I know a lot of good places to visit.”
“I’ll bet you know every house of ill repute all over the world,” I said with a laugh.
“Not all,” he insisted.