Then the radio had crackled into life again. This time for another kid with fever but also convulsions. All tests led to cerebral malaria. Which meant stripping, cold baths, rectal paracetamol and plenty of fluids, along with an IV of diazepam.
The cases rolled in, one after another, and Bridget worked through each of them in turn. Methodically.
Oral rehydration and an overnight IV for one little boy, and skin-to-skin contact with the mother for an hour or so for another hypothermic little one. Then a snake bite, probably from about five days earlier, which meant it was probably a dry bite with no envenomation. Bridget assessed the site. There was no emergency but there was certainly a risk of infection, so she administered a tetanus booster and prescribed antibiotics.
But now they were in the army four-by-four as Hayden himself drove the two of them in the second vehicle.
‘I didn’t think you were allowed to drive yourself,’ Bridget said as she slid into the passenger seat of the four-by-four, and Hayden swung into the driver’s seat. ‘I’m sure Mattie once told me that an officer had to have a driver.’
‘Generally that’s the case.’ Hayden lifted his shoulders. ‘Mainly because in the event of an RTA, an officer would have to go in front of a brigade commander if they were driving. Which isn’t good for your career.’
‘What if the RTA wasn’t the officer’s fault?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he told her casually. ‘If the only contact you’ve had with a brigade commander is a disciplinary, even for something as unfair as an RTA that wasn’t your fault, when it came to a promotion, that could be all it takes for them to pass you over in favour of the next guy on the list who has nothing going against him. Especially if you’re talking promotion to
Major or above.’
‘So why would you take the risk of driving now?’
‘We’re in the middle of nowhere. There are no roads and few vehicles. An RTA is more than highly improbable. And, frankly, I’m damned good at what I do. If my brigade commander wants certain, specialist roles carried out, he comes and talks to me directly, he doesn’t even bother with the charade of going through my commanding officer.’
‘Modest,’ she teased, unable to help herself.
‘I’ve never pretended that was one of my traits.’ He flashed his teeth in another of those wicked grins that melted her bones.
She struggled to hold herself together, searching blindly for a more neutral topic.
‘Here’s one thing I didn’t fully understand,’ she managed. ‘The charity I work for has hundreds and hundreds of medical camps all over the world. How did the army come to be involved in this one?’
‘It’s a quid pro quo,’ he answered. ‘The government of this country gave the British, American and Canadian armies access to a one thousand square miles training ground on the basis that we help with infrastructure in the surrounding areas, after so many years of their civil war.’
‘But how did that come to involve this charity?’
‘You were already in the area, doing an incredible job with health, water, education. It made sense, rather than come in and do the same things that you guys do but not have the trust of the local people, to instead come in and support you guys, boosting your resources and manpower, enabling you to reach more people, faster.’
‘Right,’ she considered. ‘And build roads.’
‘And bridges. Yes. Like you said the other day, the rainy season has made everywhere impassable for so long that everyone has to move at the same time around here. People, cows, goats. Permanent roads will allow for freedom of movement throughout the year.’
‘But that’s going to take months and months, surely? Even years?’
‘You appreciate that my guys can build a bridge in under ten minutes?’ he asked, amused.
* * *
‘Sorry? Ten minutes?’ Bridget blinked at him, and suddenly all he wanted to do was stop the vehicle and pin her up against the beaten-up seats, tasting that luscious mouth of hers again.
‘You mean...something like a little foot bridge?’
It took a herculean feat of self-restraint to keep his hands—and his body—to himself.
‘No, I mean something like a man portable medium girder bridge that can span a nine-metre gap and support up to seven hundred and fifty tonnes.’
‘Then with machines, surely? Tanks?’
‘You’re thinking of light armoured. No. I mean eight men.’
‘And...you can set up one of those in under ten minutes?’