Born A Hero. Paula Detmer Riggs

      “Dr. Remson,” she said crisply.

      “Katherine, this is Gordon Hunter. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

      Shock rendered her speechless for a full second before she found her voice. “Uh, no, not at all, Dr. Hunter. Is…is something wrong?”

      “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Before she could give voice to the questions already jamming her head, he went on. “Are you near a TV set?”

      “Yes, why?” She glanced at the small set on her dresser.

      “Turn on CNN and then we’ll talk.”

      “Just a sec.” She fumbled for the remote control device on the Mission oak table by her bed, then switched on the set and surfed quickly to the right channel. An instant later stark images of a scene reminiscent of the Oklahoma City bombing filled the screen. Her breath caught as the camera panned to a shot of a tiny pink sneaker half buried under a mound of debris.

      As she stared at the shifting images, a hole opened in her stomach, and her heart picked up speed. “Oh my God, Doctor, what happened?”

      “A bomb went off in a popular restaurant in the center of Montebello’s capital city of San Sebastian della Rosa. It appears a number of people having breakfast were buried. No one knows for sure how many.”

      Kate watched in horror as rescue workers in hard hats and surgical masks dug frantically through what appeared to be a mountain of rubble.

      “Montebello? Isn’t that one of those islands in the Mediterranean near Saudi Arabia?”

      “Yes, it’s next to Tamir, where the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries met a few years back.”

      “Wasn’t Montebello pro-West during Desert Storm?”

      “Indeed. As a matter of fact, I have some investments there, and King Marcus Sebastiani is an acquaintance of mine. He called to ask my help in locating surgeons to help treat the victims the rescue workers think will be pouring in soon—including several children, I’m told. I was hoping you’d be available to help.”

      Children? She thought of that tiny sneaker and her heart sank at the damage falling debris could do to delicate bones. Oh God. Of course she wanted to help, provided she could juggle her responsibilities as the children’s clinic chief of staff.

      Quickly she ran through a mental checklist of the surgeries she had scheduled for the next two weeks. None were critical, nor were they so complicated she would hesitate to turn them over to her associates. Of lesser importance were a staff meeting next week and a routine appointment with the clinic’s accountant. Both were easily postponed.

      “I’m available,” she declared finally. “I’ll have to make arrangements with my associates to cover for me for the next two weeks, but the clinic staff is terrific at improvising.” She took a fast breath. “Sarah and I just got back around midnight last night from a week in Baja, and I haven’t unpacked more than my toothbrush. Provided I can get reservations, I can leave sometime today.”

      “Don’t worry about reservations. I took a chance you’d agree and made your travel arrangements for you. A car will pick you up at nine-thirty, and one of the king’s planes is already on its way to San Francisco Airport. It will be landing at SFO at ten-thirty, and after a quick refueling, will return to San Sebastian immediately. Weather permitting, you’ll be in Montebello before the sun sets.”

      “You must have been fairly sure I’d say yes,” she muttered, more than a little awestruck.

      Relief was audible in his voice. “Let’s say I was hopeful. You’ll be met and briefed when you land.” There was a momentary pause before he added softly, “Bless you, Katie Remson. I know a lot of desperate people in Montebello will be very happy to find out you’re on your way.”

      As Gordon hung up, his conscience reared its ugly head. A man who believed in fair play would have told her that Elliot was even now in another of the king’s personal planes.

      Believing in his children’s right to privacy, Gordon had never let on to either Kate or Elliot that ten years ago he’d seen her leaving the pool house at dawn, her face streaked with tears. The same pool house from which Elliot had emerged a few minutes later, his face white and his expression grim. For days afterward, Elliot had lashed out at everyone like a badly wounded animal. Helena was sure he’d somehow hurt Katie very badly.

      Gordon had a gut feeling Helena was bang on this time. Until the morning in question, Kate had routinely joined them for family celebrations. Indeed, both he and Helena loved the girl like a second daughter. After that morning, however, on those rare occasions when Elliott came home for a visit, Kate invariably had “other plans.”

      Sorry, Katie, he told her silently as he gave a thumbs-up to the weary men watching him with bloodshot eyes. Personal feelings don’t mean squat when children’s lives are at stake. Still, Gordon couldn’t help saying a quick prayer that neither of these decent, caring people would end up getting hurt again….