And worse, he’d have to do that on two hours of sleep. He’d spent most of the night arranging to get his butt back to Tampa, and as he checked his watch, he expected his cell phone to ring at any—
There it was, ringing. After a long sigh, he answered.
“Captain Brent, this is Colonel Grey’s office. It’s oh eight ten, and we’re wondering where you are.”
Brent tossed his head back, closed his eyes, and saw himself standing before a general court-martial. No, his punishment wouldn’t be that severe, of course, but his imagination always took him straight to hell first.
“Captain Brent? Are you there?”
“Ah, yes, I’m here, here as in I’m at MacDill AFB for a meeting with General Mitchell.”
“Uh, all right, I’ll inform the colonel.”
“Thanks.”
As Brent hung up, he pictured Grey’s face when she got the news. Heat waves would billow from her brow.
“Captain?”
Brent rose and was escorted into the general’s office by Mitchell’s assistant.
The general had divided the room into two areas: a rather regal-looking work zone with rich dark furniture, bookcases, and unit flags hung from the walls, the other area a high-tech observation post with a cocoon of monitors displaying battlefield operations. The station was, in effect, a miniature version of the JSF’s more elaborate command center. Mitchell was seated at that station, wearing virtual-reality gloves and manipulating holographic data bars that only he could see via his VR glasses. His fingers flicked right and left, and he made the O shape with index and thumb several times to close open windows. He suddenly wrenched off the glasses and gloves and bolted from the seat as though it were on fire.
“All right, all right…” he muttered, clearing his thoughts aloud.
The general sported a snowy white crew cut that complemented his angular jaw. Brent guessed he spent as much time in the gym as he did in the VR chair, and an unmistakable twinkle in his eye seemed infectious.
“Captain Brent, you’re a persistent man,” said the general, taking Brent’s hand in his own. “That much I admire. The rest of your record looks inconsistent. You, son, have been on a roller coaster ride instead of a career ladder.”
“I just take it as it comes, sir.”
Mitchell hardened his gaze. “So what the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Sir?”
“Forgive my candor. Dennison tells me she pulled the plug on your mission. And Grey doesn’t want you on it. You’ve come here to ask for a second chance in the guise of some deal regarding a low-life warlord in Afghanistan that you want to hand over to me.”
“Sir, I’ve had sources there for years, and I’m finally calling in all my favors.”
“At a rather convenient time.”
“Sayyaf has links to China and the Russian Federation. There’s a rumor that he’s in bed with the Green Brigade, too. He’s a piece we need to take off the board.”
“And you’re handing him to me in exchange for another chance to go after the Snow Maiden.”
“What would you do?”
“I wouldn’t come in here and insult my boss’s intelligence.”
Brent glanced away and smiled. “Sir, in the grand scheme of things, I’m just a little guy. I know that. And at my level, this is the best I got. The deal might be insulting, but you’ll have Sayyaf.”
“So Brent comes first, country second.”
“I never wanted it to be this way. I hate the politics. I really do. But I’m asking for a lot, so I give something in return.”
“So this has been your ace in the hole in case we screw you over, huh? Keep a little piece of the pie to yourself, and give it back when the time is right.”
“No, sir. I wish I were that smart. When they pulled me off the mission, I started thinking about my options. Then I made a few calls.”
Mitchell sighed very deeply for effect. “You want me to take this deal and overstep my officers.”
Brent opened his mouth — but the general spoke before he could: “And you want me to take your intelligence on good faith and place more Americans in harm’s way.”
Brent glanced toward the window. The general’s tone had come as a challenge, and Brent knew if he backed down now, there was no second chance. The general was probing, looking to see if he had any fight left in him. Well, he sure as hell did.
“Sir, can I ask you a question? Why’d you join the Army?”
Mitchell grinned, as though over some private joke. “You know the answer to that as well as I — because they forced you to read my bio.”
“I don’t mean the facts, sir. I mean the feeling.”
“To be in control, right? To feel some power. To put forth that power in a way that yields a tangible and desirable result. Hell, that sounds so academic. Maybe we all got into this because it just makes us feel good. We want to do the right thing for our families and our country.”
“That’s not my story, sir. I got into this to try to be somebody I’m not. I did it out of guilt. I thought I could make things right. I learned a lot. And maybe I’m not the most qualified Ghost for this job, but you can bet I’m the most persistent. I’m disciplined, and I never forget what I want.”
Mitchell crossed around his ornate desk and plopped down hard into the leather chair. He leaned back, pillowing his head in his hands.
“The idea that you’ve been withholding intelligence from us doesn’t just strike a nerve, Captain. It makes me want to squeeze your neck until your face turns blue.”
“With all due respect, sir, there’s a difference between delaying my report and withholding it.”
“Semantics. Your intentions are clear.”
Brent knew he’d regret it, but he raised his voice. “Sir, I just want to fight another day. That’s it. You’ve been the fall guy yourself, so you know what I’m talking about. Once a Ghost, always a Ghost. We know how this pans out.”
The intercom beeped, followed by a voice. “Sir, I have Colonel Grey on vid channel three.”
“Sir, don’t take that call,” said Brent.
“Why not?”
“Because she’ll tell you I’m incapable and insubordinate.”
“And you’re late for a meeting with her,” added the general. “So you’re right, she doesn’t have to tell me how insubordinate you are. I’m witnessing it firsthand.”
“I just want to fight.”
Mitchell told his assistant that he’d return the call. Then he faced Brent and sighed. “Why do I bet on you?”
“Sir, we lost a good man out there, and I’d like to take his brother, my team, and one other sergeant. You give me those people, and I’ll get this Snow Maiden for you.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why do I bet on you — when you’ve already failed? And don’t tell me it’s because I’ll get the warlord. I don’t give a crap about him right now.”
“We weren’t allowed to finish what we started.”
“So pulling the plug on you was premature?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Even after repeated failures? Maybe we cut our losses with you. Why don’t you just back off? Start training the new guys, be the voice of experience. Get back to Robin Sage. I did it for years and found it very rewarding.”
“Because it can’t end like this. I got into the Army for the wrong reasons. I need to finish for the right ones.”
“So if I cut you loose, it’s with the understanding that if we don’t get results, you’ll be moving on to something else.”
“I accept that, sir.”
“So you’re highly motivated.”
“I always have been, sir. I just need good intel. It’s hard to catch up with someone when your intel keeps you two steps behind.”