When Harvath came to, the first thing he saw was Bob Herrington. “So much for operating as a team.”
Harvath didn’t want to hear it and ignored his friend as he tried to move.
“Take it easy,” said Bob. “Don’t try to get up too fast. Are you okay? Anything broken?”
Harvath slowed down and tried moving his fingers. Next he moved his toes and then worked his way through the rest of his body. “I think I’m okay. What about the horse?”
Herrington looked over his shoulder, then back at Harvath, and shook his head. “Nope.”
“How about the cop by the Armory?” asked Harvath.
“Two rounds to the chest. Morgan had one of those QuickClot sponges in his bag and got it on him right away. Probably saved his life. I think he’s going to make it.”
Harvath pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned back against a parked car. He rubbed his brow along his shoulder to get some of the sweat out of his eyes and then saw that it wasn’t sweat, but blood.
“Don’t worry,” said Morgan, the team’s self-appointed medic, as he pulled some supplies out of his pack, including a tube of medical Krazy Glue known as Dermabond. “You’ve got one hell of a road rash on the left side of your face, but as long as we can get those cuts closed up, I don’t think it’s going to be too serious.”
“So much for me being the only pretty face in this group,” said Hastings.
Harvath’s smile quickly turned into a wince as Morgan swabbed his wounds with antiseptic.
“We heard the shots from the park,” said Cates. “Were you able to hit any of them?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about faces, or something distinct about the vehicle?” asked Herrington.
“At least four faces,” said Harvath, “all covered. And as for the vehicle, it’s a late-model black Tahoe which now bears the distinction of having lost its rear window while gaining a bullet hole in each of its rear tailgate doors.”
“That’s a start,” said Herrington, trying to remain upbeat and bolster his buddy’s spirits. “Not a very good one, but a start nonetheless.”
“So what you’re telling us is that you got an NYPD horse killed and yourself beat to shit for nothing?” asked Cates.
As Morgan began applying the Dermabond to close his wounds, Harvath surrendered to the inevitable. They had just blown their last and only lead. Holstering his weapon, which Hastings had found and now handed back to him, Harvath said, “Yeah, I guess it was all for nothing.”