All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas (11 page)

“Mugs are to the right of the microwave,” he told her as she came up with a box of vanilla chai—Jules's favorite. His heart clenched.
Please God, keep him safe…

“Thanks,” Gina said.

“Joan doesn't even know me,” he pointed out.

She crossed the kitchen and filled the tea kettle with water from the bubbler. “Yeah, but she knows what it's like to be in our shoes. She's married to a SEAL. She's white-knuckled it through reports of downed helicopters and…She knows that it's easier with a hand to hold.”

“Easier,” Robin repeated.

Gina forced a smile. “Marginally.” She paused, and then said, “Jules asked me to do this, you know. Especially for your first time. He was concerned and…He understands how excruciating the waiting can be—for news, for results. He asked me to organize a support group if something like this ever happened—if he was out there and communications went down. He asked me to remind you that he's very good at taking care of himself. He also wanted you to remember how much he loves you. And if there's ever a time that he
doesn't
come home…” Her voice faltered. She had to be thinking about her Max, who was out there, too, but she still managed to finish, “it's not because he didn't desperately want to.”

And fuck, Robin had been keeping it together—just barely—right up to now. He'd always been mortified by crying in front of other people, but Gina apparently didn't have that problem because she burst into tears. She just suddenly lost it, right there in his kitchen, which in contrast made
him
look as if he weren't crying at all.

Which, come to think of it, was probably why she'd let go.

Robin grabbed her and hugged her—to comfort her, yeah right. And there they stood, clinging to each other. And it was weird, but on some level, he
did
take comfort in knowing that Jules was with Max right now.

And Deb, too. FBI Agent Deb Erlanger was one tough operator.

Gina murmured a reassurance that Robin knew was as much for herself as for him. “They're going to be all right.” Her voice was muffled because he was holding her so tightly.

“Yeah,” he said.
Please God, let Gina be right…

“Yashi's been updating you, right?” Gina asked from his armpit, where he'd smooshed her.

“They've narrowed down the sector of the city where they think Jules, Max and Deb are, but they still haven't pinpointed their location,” Robin repeated the info Yashi had last given him, releasing her slightly.

She pulled back even farther to look at him, the little makeup she wore smudging her face. Her nose was red, too. She was not one of those women who cried beautifully, but she clearly didn't give a crap about that, and he liked her even more for it. “They'll find them,” she said.

“Here's something you might not know,” Robin told her. “There's a reporter somewhere in Kandahar who managed to send out e-mail communications as recently as six o'clock, our time. Yashi thinks this guy—Jack Lloyd—has access to some kind of landline that still works. Or at least it was working a few hours ago. No one's been able to contact him since. Will—he's here, in the front office, with Dolphina—did you meet him?”

She shook her head, no.

“He's a reporter, so watch what you say in front of him,” Robin warned her. “But he's frenemies—his word—with this Jack guy, so…Hopefully Jack will e-mail him back.”

“That's great,” Gina said. “It is. But…you need to know that the people they've got looking for Jules and Max? They're very good at what they do. We don't need to help find them. Really, Robin. We just need to wait, which sometimes seems like it's the hardest job of all.”

No kidding.

“My mother once asked me, didn't I wish Max was just, like, a postal worker,” Gina told him. “And you know what I told her?”

Robin nodded. Like her, he was laughing and still crying a little, too. What a mess.

“Same answer you would give,” Gina said. “Right?”

Robin nodded again. Like Gina, he'd fallen in love with a man who ran toward, instead of away from, danger. Although he had to admit, at times like this, the postal worker thing sounded freaking tempting.

At one a.m., Will stood up from Dolphina's desk and went to find Robin.

The house had slowly been filling with women ever since he'd first arrived, and he'd tried to remain as invisible as possible. Thanks to Dolphina, they all knew who he was—the spawn of Satan—and what he'd done. Conversations had stopped the one time he'd gotten up to use the facilities.

It was a miracle that he hadn't been lynched.

Dolphina didn't bother to introduce anyone to him, but he'd recognized Robin's sister, Jane, the Hollywood producer, as she'd arrived. She was with another woman—her mother-in-law. Will deduced that from the fact that everyone greeted the older lady as “Cosmo's mom.”

He'd overheard all the others' names—Kelly, Meg, Teri, Van. They were wives of SEALs or former SEALs. There were plenty of children, too, most of them small and asleep in the beds upstairs. There was one teenager—Amy—who reminded him of his own niece, Maggie. Amy had poked her head into the office earlier, no doubt to get a closer look at the evil reporter.

He headed now toward the kitchen, but Dolphina materialized out of nowhere before he even reached the living room.

“Any word, Mr. Schroeder?” she asked, her voice as frosty as her eyes.

“Nothing from Jack yet, Ms. Patel,” he answered. “Is Robin…?” He pointed toward the kitchen.

She crossed her arms and blocked his path. “It's better if you just talk to me.”

It was not what he wanted, but as was often the case these days, he didn't seem to have a choice. “I have to leave,” Will told her. “It's not because I don't want to stay and help, I mean, as much as I
can
help. But my babysitter is about to turn into a pumpkin, so…”

She blinked at him. “You said you would go pick up your niece if your sitter couldn't stay.”

“Yeah,” Will said, scratching his chin. “I did. But that was before I…” He shook his head. “Turns out I can't do that. I'm sorry.” The temperature dropped about twenty degrees there in the hallway, and it had started out sub-zero.

“But you
said—
”

“I know what I said.” His patience snapped. “And I know you think I'm a scumbag, but you know what? I
would
be one if I brought Maggie back here. My sister Arlene—her mother—is Army Reserve. She's in Iraq. Maggie and I both work overtime to keep the fear at bay, and frankly, coming here and seeing this—” he gestured around them “—would scare her. And God forbid Robin actually gets the news that Jules is—”

“Don't say it.” Dolphina cut him off.

“Sorry.” He understood more than she knew.

But then there they stood, just staring at each other.

“Please don't get me wrong,” Will finally spoke, more quietly now. “I think this is great, I do. Robin is a very lucky man to have this kind of support from his friends. But…I'm Maggie's support group. I'm it. And as much as I want to help you, I can't bring her here.”

Apparently, he'd rendered Dolphina speechless. For once, she didn't have much to say.

“I'm sorry,” she finally managed. And from her sudden inability to bore an icy hole through him with her eyes, it appeared she actually meant it.

“Me, too,” Will said quietly. Maggie spent every single day waiting for a precious e-mail from her mom.

“I could babysit,” Dolphina said hesitantly. “For you. If that's okay? That way you could stay here. I don't know how realistic it is, but Robin's got this idea that as long as there's a chance you can get in touch with Jack Lloyd…Maybe he can somehow help Jules.” She shook her head. “At the very least, it gives him hope.”

“Hope is good,” Will said. “Hope is…important.”

She met his eyes very briefly. “If this works for you, I'll just…get my cell phone and a book. Maybe you could call your sitter and tell her I'm coming over? I'm happy to show her my driver's license when I get there. You know, so she doesn't have to worry about leaving Maggie with some stranger.”

Will nodded. “I'll tell her not to copy it though.”

Dolphina actually laughed at that, and she even glanced into his eyes again. But then she frowned. “I still hate you,” she said. “I want to make that perfectly clear. I'm doing this for Robin.”

He nodded. “I remain hated,” he reiterated. “Okay. I mean, it's not
really
okay, but it is what it is.”

“Write a note for Maggie, too,” Dolphina ordered him. “I don't want her waking up and wondering who I am and where you are. I don't want her to be scared.”

“Good plan.” Will went back into the office, where he'd seen some legal pads on Dolphina's desk.

She followed him. “I won't give her details about what you're doing here,” she promised. “Just…do me a favor, and if…Robin gets bad news…” She had to choke the words out. “Don't call me. Just come home so I can leave right away.”

“All right,” he said, as he scribbled a quick note. He tore the page off the pad and folded it in thirds. “Do you have an envelope?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “What, do you think I'm going to read it?”

“I know you will,” he countered. “That's why I asked for an envelope. It's a note to Maggie. I'd like an envelope. Please.”

Dolphina rolled her eyes at him. “MapQuest me directions,” she commanded as she opened a cabinet and got out an envelope.

“I can just write them down,” he said, doing just that on another sheet of the legal pad. The route from here out to his place in Newton was pretty direct. Over to Comm Ave., and then west…

“You want an envelope,” she said, holding it up out of his reach. “I want my directions MapQuested.”

“Fair enough.” He sat behind the computer.

And his e-mail alert started to wail.

Dolphina leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitor. Damn, she smelled good. “What is that?” she asked.

“Jack Lloyd,” Will told her, quickly scanning the e-mail Jack had just sent in response to Will's.

Immediate assistance needed,
Jack wrote.
Trying to reach the FBI, the Marines—ANY U.S. authority, but not getting through. If you get this, SOS!!! 10 Americans, including FBI agents you asked about, are pinned down in an apartment building. 7 are reporters, all injured in initial bombing. Mobility and speed limited by those injuries—amazing they got as far as they did. But now need help…

Sweet Mary, Mother of God.

Jack and an FBI agent named Deb had managed to escape, the e-mail continued, in an attempt to access Jack's e-mail communications.

The remaining Americans—including Jules and Max—were under direct attack from the insurgents. With limited weapons and ammunition, time was running out.

“Go get Robin,” Will ordered Dolphina as he quickly zapped an e-mail back to Jack.
Your e-mail received,
he wrote.
Let me know if you just got mine.

But Dolphina hadn't moved. She was staring at the computer screen. So Will said it louder as his e-mail alert went off again, as Jack sent him a four-word reply.
E-mail received. Situation dire.
Shit. “Get Robin. We need Yashi on the phone,
right now.
Apparently Jack can't get through to the authorities, but he
can
get through to me. We have to set up a communications relay. Dolphina,
run.
”

She ran.

 

T
HURSDAY
, N
OVEMBER
22
K
ANDAHAR
, A
FGHANISTAN

During a lull in the fighting, Howard was the first to say it. “Maybe it's time to surrender.”

Jules didn't look up from his position at the cellar window, the weapon he'd taken from the body of a dead Marine—God rest his soul—held at ready. They'd retreated as far as they possibly could. Their current position was strong—outside the window was a small courtyard, surrounded by a high stone wall with barbed wire atop it. There was one gap in the wall where a wooden door had once hung. It was the only way into the part of the building they now occupied.

He and Max had held off the attack for over an hour since Deb had left to get help.

But it wouldn't be long before the insurgents brought in some heavy artillery. As soon as that wall came down, they would be in much deeper shit.

Jules didn't need to turn around to know that Max was shaking his head to the suggestion of surrender. He knew, too, exactly what Max was going to tell Howard and the other reporters.

“Surrender's not an option.”

The insurgents who had them pinned were ultimately as surrounded as Jules and Max were. Although the bad guys had superior firepower right now, the U.S. Marines would be coming, and in a matter of days, they would take them down and out. The insurgents were dead men fighting—martyrs for their cause. And dead men didn't take prisoners.