Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers #4)(94)
Author: Christine Feehan

Ken burst out laughing. “He said the same thing to me once.”

Briony winced as Jack cleaned the wound again with the hot water and antiseptic. It burned and stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Where were you? How’d you get hurt?”

“Afghanistan,” Ken said. “There’s a ten-thousand-foot ridge known as the Whale’s Back on the west side of a valley, and on the east the Shah-e-Kot mountains rise above, with the enemy sitting up around ten to twelve thousand feet, using everything from small arms, to mortar and heavy machine guns. The infantry was caught in the valley humping over bare ground with heavy gear and no cover. The enemy had all the advantages, sending heavy fire from very defensible positions, inflicting heavy causalities on the infantrymen.”

“When you say infantry, aren’t you talking a lot of troops?”

Ken shrugged. “I think a couple of battalions. They were chasing the resistance into the mountains in an attempt to mop up after the battle. We were sent in to provide additional defense for the troops.”

“Ow!” Briony slapped at Jack’s hand as he poured liquid over the wound. It burned even worse than the first brew he’d used.

“Stop being a baby,” Jack murmured. “You sound just like Ken.”

“I take it the situation got bad,” Briony prompted, gritting her teeth. Her side hurt worse than when she was running. The talk distracted her, and in any case, she liked catching glimpses into their world.

Jack pressed fresh gauze to the wound. “It went to hell very fast. The two battalions were taking heavy casualties and were pinned down. Six of us went in to try to clear out the enemy and get our men out of there. The enemy had them right where they wanted them.”

“How did Ken get hurt?”

“I think he has ADD,” Jack said. “He can’t stay still.”

Briony laughed, in spite of the fact that he was taping the gauze in place and the wound still burned from the double dose of disinfectant. She knew Ken could remain still for hours.

“You laugh,” Jack said, “but it’s the truth. We hooked up with the Airborne’s brigade, and the enemy was throwing everything at us but the kitchen sink. We moved up to a better vantage point and began picking them off, but as soon as we got rid of one, another would take his place. The fighting went on so long we were running low on ammunition. We’d cached our gear below and Ken decided he’d just take a little run across the bare valley and up to a ridge about another one hundred meters and collect it for us. You, know, a little stroll through the park.”

“And you sat up there and protected him while he did it,” Briony guessed.

“Hell, someone had to. He’s a maniac. He took a grenade launcher with him and made the run back and forth through heavy fire at over eleven thousand feet. The air’s pretty thin, but not only did he drag our gear and ammo back, but he took out a nest of al-Qaeda hidden in a streambed firing mortars at us. Just as he came up over the ridge, I caught the edge of tree cancer just above us and knew a sniper had set up.”

“What’s tree cancer?”

“Snipers set up, and sometimes you catch the edge of their blind. It looks like a growth on the trunk, so we refer to it as cancer.”

“Okay, I get it. So what happened after you spotted him?”

“I took out the shooter, but he got off a round and nailed Ken.”

“He failed to mention the only reason I was able to make the run and live was because he took out anyone trying to cap my ass,” Ken said.

“You do something like that again and I’ll shoot you myself.” Briony caught the rough affection and the fear for his brother swirling in Jack’s mind, but as always his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

“I picked up a pretty medal,” Ken pointed out.

“You nearly picked it up after we buried you.” Jack soaked a cloth in the warm water and pressed it gently to Briony’s face. “Ken insisted on sewing up his wound, although he let me dig the bullet out of him.”

“Precisely why you weren’t sewing me up, you sadistic bastard. It hurt like hell.”

Jack threw him a sleeping bag. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll take first watch while you get some sleep.”

Briony waited until Ken settled down a few yards from them before touching the tattoo on Jack’s arm. “You, Ken, and Kadan all have the same tattoos. What are they?”

Jack studied the crest on his arm and the symbol. “Only GhostWalkers wear these tattoos. This is the GhostWalker crest. The globe represents the world, which basically is our hunting ground. We’re responsible for protecting those who can’t protect themselves. The keys signify our various missions, to walk unseen in enemy camps and collect the necessary information, and the knives are, of course, a silent kill. The Latin-nox noctis est nostri-means “the night is ours,” which it is. The GhostWalkers own the night.”

“And the other one?”

“The symbols put together have meaning. The triangle signifies shadow; this is the Greek letter for psi; this is protection against evil forces; and the last is the qualities of a knight. So basically the meaning is-shadow knights protect against evil forces using psychic powers, courage, and honor. We have a creed as well. It means something to us and we live by it.”

“I like the tattoos, and I think it’s especially cool that you use ink that requires special vision to even see them.”

“You’re a GhostWalker, Briony. You’re more than entitled to wear them.”

“Well, I might just get one-after I have the babies.” She frowned. “Why did your team leave you behind in the enemy camp, Jack? You were wounded.”

“I went in to get Ken out. I told them to leave and I knew they’d come back for me. The GhostWalker team mounted two strikes against Ekabela, but I was moved before they hit the camp, both times. They were planning another attack and would have kept doing so until they either found my body or got me out alive.”

“You mean Ken would have.”

“No, I mean all of them would have, orders or not.” He grinned at her. “But Ken would have been leading the pack.”

She flashed a small answering smile. “I really like your brother. He’s a good man. He worries about it too, you know, about being like your father. He doesn’t like being around people any more than you do.”

“He’s the best man I know, Briony, and he sure as hell isn’t like our father.”