“But look at what we’re doing for you…”
The old man pursed his lips and sighed. “That is not help. That is a political game. I had this very same conversation with a Russian commander many years ago. And he thought just like you…”
A muffled shout from outside wafted in from the window. “Hasten to prayer.”
Bronco looked at me, and we quickly excused ourselves and headed out while they began their prayers.
Back in the courtyard, the old agent turned to me and said, “Do you see the nut you’re trying to crack? These guys are all family, brothers in arms, old Soviet fighters. They bled together. You think they’ll go against Zahed? Not in a million years.”
“Then what’re you doing here?”
“My job.”
“Which is…”
“Which is making sure you dumb-ass Joes don’t fuck this all up.”
“What’s this? Having villages controlled by the Taliban? Little girls raped?”
“What if I told you Zahed works for us?”
“I’d say you’re full of it.”
“Money talks, right?”
“He’s not a terrorist.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if you do, you have a better chance of staying alive.”
“So now you want to help me stay alive? I thought you wanted me to go home.”
“Going home will keep you alive.”
“Sorry, buddy, can’t help you there.”
“Well, then, Captain Mitchell, I guess we should head back to my car.”
I froze. “How do you know my name?”
“Captain Scott Mitchell. Ghost Leader. The elite unit that”—he made quote marks with his fingers—“doesn’t exist. Top secret. Well, we’re the goddamned CIA, and no one keeps secrets from us.”
I had to smirk. I’d tried to dig up intel on him and come up empty.
His tone softened, if only a little. “Years ago, you rescued a couple of buddies of mine in Waziristan. Saenz and Vick. They weren’t too thrilled about the rescue itself, but you saved their lives — which is why I figure I can return the favor. If you stick around long enough, they’ll put a target on your head.”
“I’ve been wearing one of those for a lot of years.”
“Look, you must be a smart guy. Go call your boss. Tell him this mission is a dead end. Literally. Get out while you still can.”
“Whoa, I’m scared.”
“Turn around and look up.”
I did. There was a Taliban fighter with an AK-47 standing on the roof, his weapon aimed at my head. And no, he was not hastening to prayer.
“See what I mean? They’re giving you a chance to bail, and they’re doing that as a favor to me. But if you decide to stay and attempt to carry out your mission, then I won’t be able to help you. I want to be very clear about that.”
“How can you do this with a clear conscience?”
“Do what?”
“Betray your country.”
“Are you serious? Come on…” He spun on his sandal and shuffled off.
I glanced back at the Taliban fighter, whose eyes widened above his shemagh.
TWELVE
I kept quiet during the ride back to the base, and as I got out of the car near the main gate, Bronco started to say something, but I cut him off. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
“Then do the right thing. This ain’t worth it. And if you think you can beat them with all your fancy gadgets and gizmos, think again, right?”
“Are you helping Zahed?”
“Me?”
“I’m asking you a direct question. Yes? Or no?”
“No.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Listen to me, Joe. Don’t let your ego get in the way here. They gave you a mission, but they don’t understand. They didn’t give you orders to upset the balance here.”
“Balance?”
“Yeah. You might think this doesn’t work, but to these people, it ain’t half bad.”
I smirked, slammed the door, and walked on toward the gate. The mine-sweeping team was just coming in as well, and I asked a lieutenant at the Hummer’s wheel how they’d made out.
The skinny redhead wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and answered, “Looked clear to us.”
“Hey, can you do me a favor and sweep the original zone?”
“You mean where we were supposed to drill?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I haven’t received orders or authorization to do that.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t take long, right? Thirty minutes? I mean you’re all loaded up already.”
He grinned slyly. “You think those bastards are hiding something out there, don’t you?”
“I know they are.”
“I’m surprised Captain Harruck didn’t ask us to sweep it.”
“That hottie Anderson is keeping him real busy now,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, she’s hot.”
“Australian accent. What an ass on her, too.”
I was talking his talk. He wriggled his brows. “Tell you what, we’ll give it a quick look. I’m sure the CO would make us check it out eventually.” He threw his truck in reverse, backed out, and started away from the gate.
Damn, I thought. I didn’t think he’d go for it. Now I was committed to the plan.
I watched them leave, then hurried back to our billet, where inside, the guys were doing the usuaclass="underline" reading, playing computer games on their iPods, cleaning weapons, and/or creating battle profiles for our Cross-Coms, something Nolan truly enjoyed. We always killed more time than enemy insurgents. So it was in the Army. Hurry up and wait.
Ramirez and Warris were seated at the small conference table near the door, and Ramirez gave me a sour look as I entered. “What’s up?”
“Sir, just had a nice, long talk with Captain Warris. Seems he’s in charge now.”
“Say again?”
“That’s not exactly true,” said Warris.
I quickly said, “Gordon told me you’re our new—”
“Liaison officer?” Warris finished. “Yeah, well, that was the initial thought. They say they won’t relieve you of command, Mitchell, but I’ve been told that anything and everything you do must be screened through me first, and at that point I’ll bring it up with Harruck. I’m sorry. I know how this is. But they were emphatic.”
“Outside,” I snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, out… side… do you read me?”
“Whoa. You’d better check the registry.”
“Not now, son.”
I opened the door and waited for the punk I had trained, the punk who thought he was replacing me, to head outside, where we could talk away from my boys.
So I’d just learned that my father was in a coma, that my chances of capturing my target were next to nil, and that some kid with barely two combat tours under his belt was going to “oversee” my operation. I guess I’m trying to rationalize or justify what I did next.
Sure, my hand itched with the desire to reach for my pistol and put it to Warris’s head — just to teach the cocky bastard a lesson. And my other hand shook with the desire to strangle him until he was blue and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was standing there with Warris as his evaluator during the training exercise we’d just completed?
I’d been playing the role of a tribal chief and he’d misjudged my character and how I might behave in the heat of battle. Sure, I threw him a few surprises, but he should have been ready for them, and he was not.
Indeed, he’d screwed up big-time and I’d chewed him out, but he’d been humble and had never questioned my authority. I hadn’t known his true feelings about that experience and the aftermath… until now.