Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,76
lack of a case on this sweat-stained pillow brought back the sweet memory of better times. Of being with Persia Coltrane in her bed. Of her hair spread out like an ebony fan on her pure, white, Pottery Barn pillows.
He could still smell the luscious fragrance of her sun-warmed skin. The flowery scent of her silky hair. The barest hint of whiskey on her breath. Interesting. Whiskey instead of wine. He would’ve pegged her a Napa Valley girl. Not a Valley Girl, but one who was a helluva lot smarter. Which Persia was. One who enjoyed the finer things.
Walker lifted his cuffed hands together, slid his wrists one over the other, then dropped both over his eyes to dim the light. There was no privacy in this closet of a cell, no way to turn the light bar overhead off or down. He’d become an insect, caged and spotlighted for dissection. But at least the chain between shackles and cuffs allowed this much relief.
He hadn’t felt this bad since he’d been a kid at home with the flu. Kenny’d been sick the same week. They’d missed five full days of school, but had both felt too bad to celebrate their good fortune.
Kenny. Damn. Thinking about his kid brother was not what Walker needed right now. Besides, he wasn’t sick with any flu bug. This holding cell was small and there wasn’t enough ventilation down here in the basement. That was all. Guess the ICC didn’t believe in A/C. Or prisoners’ rights.
Disgusted with the shitter his life had devolved into, Walker rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Man, he was tired of running, just as fed up with fighting the whole damned world. Hans said he’d come back this morning, that he’d bring all those incriminating files and photos that showed Walker bombing a wedding in Jordan. But what did that matter? If Goff was the bastard who’d altered Walker’s OMPF, his Official Military Personnel File, he was powerful enough to rig another jury and alter the ICC’s evidence, too.
Everything seemed hopeless. Hopeless and too damned hot!
“Hey! You! Jerk-off!” the latest moron on duty bellowed, while he battered that expensive weapon on the metal bars like it was a baseball bat. “Is time to wake up, lucky American pig. You got company.”
Walker rolled to his feet. Might as well rise and shine. A man who couldn’t pee sure as hell couldn’t sleep, not with this raucous idiot standing guard. “I’m up,” he replied to get the guy to cease the racket.
“Stand back!” the guard ordered, as he unsnapped a ring of shiny silver keys from his belt. He managed to unlock the cell with one hand, while pointing his rifle at Walker with the other. Which was a stupid move since Walker was still sitting on his bunk. “I will take you to another room, but you must not try anything. I know how to kill.”
Well, so the hell do I. Was that supposed to be a threat? Walker could barely climb back to his feet and walk in these shackles, much less try anything that would get him out of this detention unit. His head and lower back hurt too damned much.
Man, he hoped it was Brimley in that other room. No one else knew he was here. But now that Walker had time to think, how’d Brimley know he’d been shipped off to the Netherlands or that he’d been detained by the ICC? Even if he’d somehow found all that out, how’d he get to The Hague from the Azores? Was he secretly a rich millionaire with a fast jet at his beck and call?
Nah. No guy who lived in a cheap, rundown basement apartment, was a secret anything. Brimley’s being here didn’t make sense, but it’d sure be good to see the old fart again. Walker wanted to know what happened to Rover. He hoped Brimley had gotten to his doggo in time after they’d both gone overboard. They had a bond, those two. It’d kill Walker if Brimley lost his best friend because of him.
“Halt!” the idiot with the rifle bellowed the second Walker made it into the hall.
Man, these people liked concrete. Nothing but cold, gray walls and floors stretched all the way down the hall. And yet Walker was burning up. For the first time, he worried his problem might not be the lack of proper ventilation. Might actually be the flu. Damned disconcerting.