“General Keasling will have those for you when he arrives. For now, I’d like all the intel you’ve got on the subjects. I understand your man — Shin — is currently conducting surveillance?”
“He checks in at the bottom of the hour, so it will be another forty-five minutes before I hear from him.” She tapped a folder on the tabletop. “He calls me, I don’t call him. That’s the rule. His communications logs are all here, so feel free to look through them. That’s all I’ve got for you really. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to finish my workout.” Zelda stood and picked up the boxing gloves, and then flashed her seductive grin again. “Actually, I could use a sparring partner. What do you say, King? Are you up for it?”
Tremblay made a low sound, like an exaggerated groan of pleasure. “My God, that’s so hot.”
King stared back at her in disbelief. To all appearances, she was coming on to him, but his instincts were shouting down his libido. He doubted very much that what she wanted was something as banal as sex. This woman was smart and tough — tough enough to survive one of the most difficult programs in the Army; she was someone who knew what she wanted and would blow through any obstacle in her way. It was a game to her…
No, he thought, not a game. This was animal behavior, the she-bear marking her territory.
I do not have time for this shit.
By making the first move, throwing down the gauntlet, she had already won. She had put him on a defensive footing, established the battlefield, dictated the terms of victory. If not for the fact that he had been unwittingly outmaneuvered, he might have applauded her decisiveness.
Worse, she had defined him: a soldier, following orders without thinking; an officer, inept and unworthy of respect; a man… Oh yes, that was it. That was the thing that bothered her the most.
He didn’t think she was a lesbian; even if she was…Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. That was the policy. Regardless, she definitely had issues when it came to men.
He realized that she wasn’t the only one watching to see what he would do and how he would play the game. All eyes were on him. If he played along, did what she wanted, he’d look weak, unable to say no to a pretty girl…
Okay, ‘pretty’ might be understating it. She’s Playmate-of-the-Month material.
Did he dare refuse? He had every right to, but his fellow Delta shooters were expecting him to stand and deliver. If he didn’t… Well, like the old saying went, you never got a second chance to make a first impression.
There was another saying he liked even better: The best defense is a good offense.
A smile slowly curled the corners of his mouth. “You know, maybe I should ask your CO what he thinks about this.”
A flicker of doubt dulled the mischievous gleam in her eyes. “My CO?”
He picked up the stuffed bear and rolled the black plastic sphere into his palm. “Lieutenant Ball. Should I play grab-ass with Baker?”
Zelda frowned.
He gave the ball a vigorous shake then turned it over and looked at the little window where the answer was displayed.
Reply hazy, try again.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, returning the toy to its place. “Lieutenant Ball says to go for it. I guess it’s on.”
SEVENTEEN
Shin Dae-jung considered it a matter of personal pride that he never complained about anything. Whether it was a duty station, another soldier, a particular mission…even Army chow in all its legendary inedibility, he faced each bump in the road of life with the implacability of a Buddhist monk.
But just this one time, he was tempted to make an exception.
It wasn’t that there was anything particularly miserable about the assignment. He had humped cross-country for a good ninety minutes, a distance of at least six miles over uneven terrain, but that was just a walk in the park for someone like him. At one point, his foot had broken through a thin crust of dirt concealing some kind of animal burrow, and he’d twisted his ankle, but that kind of thing was to be expected. The low valleys between the hills seemed to be riddled with similar pitfalls, and to avoid more stumbles, he’d kept to the high ground, which had added to the length of his journey, but that too was just something that had to be done. When he’d reached his destination, a low hill west of the fenced compound, he’d hunkered down on the hard earth under his camouflaged poncho, motionless, as various bugs, critters and creepy-crawlies meandered across his body — par for the course. His thermal poncho liner didn’t quite keep him toasty warm through the long chilly night, but he’d been colder before.
No, what had ramped up the misery factor was the fact that he could have…he should have…spent the night nuzzled up next to a very satisfied lady doctor.
Someone was going to get an earful when he got back; not Zelda — this wasn’t her crazy idea — but the Delta boys… Oh, yeah, they were going to hear about what he’d given up to run their errands. The thought made him smile; the Delta operators would probably be a lot more sympathetic to his sacrifice than the blonde Amazonian war-goddess.
Ah well, as Giselle might say: c’est la vie.
The arrival of the helicopter made him forget all his woes.
It had come just after his last check in. He’d been busy drawing a diagram of the compound, noting the position of each building, as well as the exact coordinates for everything: the buildings, the fenced perimeter and even what appeared to be an obstacle course in the northeast corner. With precise enough coordinates, the Delta boys would be able to draw a near perfect map of the compound from just his radioed description.
The sound of voices drifting up from the compound grabbed his attention. He scanned the compound with the binoculars until he found the source of the noise; a small crowd of people — twenty or more — milling around the area he had dubbed ‘the course.’
Everyone in the group had black hair and dark complexions, marking them as native to the region. Most wore simple clothing: dingy t-shirts and what might have been canvas trousers. All appeared to be male, but that was something he couldn’t confirm. What he could determine with more certainty, based on the differences in size, was that some of them were just children.
Shin immediately got the sense that they were all prisoners.
Two men however, were not wearing the “uniform” of the captives. They were also Asian, but they looked like they’d just stepped out of a hip-hop music video — baggy jeans, T-shirts with fashion-designer logos prominently displayed, caps with the visors turned sideways. The effect would have been comical if not for the Kalashnikov rifles they wielded.
Then something truly unbelievable happened. The milling group fell into a neat military-style rank in front of the two ‘gangstas,’ and then, two at a time, they headed into the obstacle course.
They moved with astonishing speed and alacrity, bounding over hurdles and scrambling up ropes like soldiers at boot camp.
Shin realized that was exactly what it was. He assumed the men were conscripts, taken against their will and brought here to be trained and indoctrinated as soldiers, but it was equally possible that they were volunteers.
So what was this place? Headquarters for a local warlord? A secret terrorist training camp?
He wasn’t due to check in for another thirty minutes, but this news seemed to warrant an unscheduled call. But before he could dial Zelda’s number on his satellite phone, the helicopter arrived.
Because he was peering intently through his binoculars, he heard the beat of the rotors and the strident roar of the turbines before he made visual contact, but after only a few seconds of searching the sky, he found it — a sleek black Bell 430, coming up from the south, right behind him.