In the corridor Agent Dawson waited for her. “You holding up all right, Dr. Cameron?”
She suppressed the biting retort that came instantly to mind. Dawson didn’t deserve the brunt of her irritation. The problem actually lay with her. She’d fallen in love with the wrong man. Had assumed the fairy tale of marriage and family would be hers someday. Two mistakes that were all her own. This particular favor for the CIA had simply driven that point home all over again.
“I’m fine, Agent Dawson.”
He nodded. “Agent Hennessey can be a bit brash,” he said, his gaze not meeting hers. “But he’s the best we have, ma’am. He won’t let our people down. He’ll get the job done or die trying.”
Elizabeth blinked. It was, incredibly, the first time she’d considered that Hennessey might actually lose his life while carrying out this assignment. Clearly, she should have. The business of field operations was hazardous to say the least. David had explained that to her when he’d opted to go back into the field after their relationship had turned personal. She’d tried to talk him out of the change, but he’d been determined and she’d been in love.
End of story.
“I’m glad we can count on him,” she said to Dawson, some how mustering up a smile.
“The transportation for moving to the safe house is ready when ever you are, Doctor Cameron.”
She nodded and continued on to ward recovery. This was the first time she and Dawson had suffered any tension. The meetings with him were generally brief and superficial. This intensity was uncomfortable. Just something else to dislike about this situation.
As she pushed through the double doors the nurse looked up and smiled. “His vitals are stable, Doctor.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Excellent.”
She moved to the table and surveyed the sleeping patient and the various read outs providing continual information as to his status.
Heart rate was strong and steady. Respiration deep and regular.
The bandages hiding his incisions wouldn’t becoming off for a few days. Even then the redness and swelling would still be prominent. After three weeks the worst would have passed. His age and excellent state of good health helped in the healing.
With some patients, especially older ones, some minor swelling and redness persisted for weeks, even months after extensive surgery. But there was no reason to believe that would be the case with this patient. The work Elizabeth had done was more about rearranging and sculpting, no deep tissue restructuring or skeletal changes. Minor alterations had been made to his nose and chin using plastic implants. Those would later be removed when she returned his face to its natural look. There would be minor scarring that she’d carefully hidden in hollows and angles. Fortunately for him his skin type and coloring generally scarred very little.
Later as Elizabeth sat alone in recovery, her patient started to rouse. The nurse and assisting physician had, at her urging, retired to the lounge. Both had looked haggard and ready for a break. She’d seen no reason, considering the continued stability of the patient’s vitals, for all of them to stay with him.
Now she wished she wasn’t alone. Her trepidation was unwarranted, she knew, but some part of her worried that she might see more of that vulnerability and she did not want to feel sympathy for this man. Now or ever.
He licked his lips. Made a sound in his throat. The intubation tube left patients with a dry throat. His right hand moved ever so slightly then jerked as some part of him recognized that he was restrained.
His body grew rigid then restless.
Stepping closer Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm and spoke quietly to him. “Agent Hennessey, you’re waking up from anesthesia now. The surgery went well. There is no reason to be apprehensive.”
His lids struggled to open as he continued to thrash just a little against his restraints.
“Agent Hennessey, can you hear me?”
He moistened his lips again and tried to speak.
Instinctively Elizabeth’s hand moved down to his. “You can open your eyes, Agent Hennessey, you’re doing fine.”
His fingers curled around hers and her breath caught.
Blue eyes stared up at her then, the pupils dilated with the remnants of the drugs his body worked hard to metabolize and flush away.
“Everything is fine, Agent Hennessey.”
“I guess I survived the knife, Doc,” he said, his voice rusty.
An unexpected smile tilted her lips. “You did, indeed. We’ll be moving to the safe house shortly.”
“Any chance I could have a drink?” he asked with another swipe of his tongue over his lips.