“No,” said Reel. “I love revealing my innermost thoughts on a public stage.”
Spitzer smiled. “It’s not the preferred way, Agent Reel, but it might actually be beneficial to you, and to Agent Robie.”
“I can’t possibly see how, but I’m not a shrink.” Reel sat back against the chair, her eyes half closed. “And at least while we’re in here no one is trying to kill us.”
Bitterman said, “You mean kill you when you’re in the field?”
Robie said, “No, she meant kill us as in while we’re here at the Burner.”
“It’s definitely not a walk in the park here,” noted Spitzer, as she doodled with her pen on the pad she held.
Reel said, “Oh, the training part we can handle. It’s the waterboarding in the middle of the night that gets me a little uptight. I like a full six hours of sleep uninterrupted by torture just like the next person.”
Spitzer and Bitterman both gazed at her openmouthed.
Bitterman said, “Are you saying that you were tortured? Here?”
“Don’t get your boxers in a wad, Doc,” said Reel. “It wasn’t the first time and I doubt it will be the last. It’s just usually not our own people that do it to us.”
Spitzer said, “But that’s illegal.”
“Yes, it is,” replied Robie. “But please don’t think of filing any paperwork on it.”
“Why?” asked Bitterman.
Robie stared at him. “You’re a bright guy. I think you can see the endgame on that one.”
Bitterman paled and glanced nervously at Spitzer, who kept her gaze squarely on Reel. Bitterman said, “Well, perhaps we should go ahead with our session.”
“Perhaps we should,” said Reel. “So fire away.”
The two psychologists readied their notes and Spitzer spoke first.
“The last time we talked, we were discussing roles.”
“Judge, jury, executioner,” said Reel promptly while Robie looked on curiously.
“Yes. What role do you feel you’re playing right now?”
“Victim.”
“And how does that make you feel?” asked Bitterman.
“Shitty.”
He next looked at Robie. “And you?”
“Not a victim. A scapegoat. And pissed, in case you were going to ask how I felt about it.”
“So you consider all of this unfair?” asked Bitterman.
“I’ve served my country, risked my life for many years. I’ve certainly earned more respect than I’m getting now. So has Reel.”
“But you understand why the circumstances have changed?” asked Spitzer.
“Because two traitors are dead?” said Robie. “No, I really don’t.”
“She wasn’t ordered to kill them,” pointed out Bitterman.
“So she took a shortcut. The orders would have been coming. Believe me.”
“No, they would have been tried and perhaps convicted,” said Bitterman. “Just as spies and traitors have been before.”
Robie shook his head. “Do you know what those two were involved in? What they were planning?”
“It wasn’t selling secrets,” Reel added as the two psychologists shook their heads.
“It was something that the world could never know about,” said Robie. “There would never have been a trial. Never. And they would never have gone to prison.”
“They would have been executed and gone into a grave,” said Reel. “And that’s where I sent them.”
“Be that as it may,” said Bitterman. “There is the issue of following orders and not acting unilaterally.”
“Otherwise, there is chaos,” added Spitzer.
“The slippery slope,” said Bitterman. “I know you can see the implications.”
“This was a special case,” retorted Reel.
“Exceptions not only disprove the rule, they destroy it,” replied Spitzer. “Our job is to psychologically vet both of you. While I know that you have been physically challenged while here and will continue to be, we are focused not on your bodies but on your minds. Do you still have the mental discipline and brain wiring to do your job in the field?”
“Or will you create a new mission on your own instead of following orders?” added Bitterman.
“We improvise all the time in the field,” protested Robie.
“I’m not talking about improvisation,” said Bitterman. “All good field agents do that. I’m talking about going off grid, going rogue and creating entirely new missions to counter perceived wrongs. Do you still have the wherewithal to follow only the orders given to you?”
Reel was about to say something and then stopped. Robie, for the first time, looked unsure.
Neither of the psychologists said anything. They just stared at the other two, awaiting an answer from one of them.
“I don’t know,” said Reel at last.
Robie said nothing.
Both Bitterman and Spitzer wrote down some notes.
Robie said, “So if we can’t say that unequivocally, then what? Unfit for deployment?”
Spitzer looked up. “That’s not for us to decide. We simply make recommendations.”
“And what would your recommendation be right now?” asked Reel.
Spitzer glanced at Bitterman, who said, “An answer now would be meaningless.”
“Why?” said Reel. “We’ve been here awhile. It’s not like they’re going to give us a year to figure this out, not if we’re being vetted for a mission.”
“My answer is still the same,” replied Bitterman, and Spitzer nodded.
Spitzer said, “Do you even want to be redeployed?” She looked from Reel to Robie for an answer.
Reel said, “This job has been my whole life.”
“That’s not an answer,” pointed out Bitterman.
“It’s the only one I’ve got right now,” replied Reel firmly.
Robie said, “How long do we have?”
Spitzer said, “We’re not the ones to take that up with. Try DD Marks.”
“Do you report to her or Evan Tucker?” asked Reel.
“The chain of command is clearly defined,” said Spitzer. “But eventually all things make their way to the DCI. Particularly something like this.”
Robie nodded. “Are we done here?”
“Do you want to be done?” asked Spitzer with a knowing look. She was clearly not simply referring to this meeting.
Neither Robie nor Reel answered.
Chapter 20
It was an obstacle course laden with things that could actually kill you. The Burner Box didn’t do things halfway.
The only difference now was Amanda Marks was right there with them as they hung from a metal line a hundred feet up and made their way slowly over a swamp that had the reputation of being infested with water moccasins, because it was.
None of them looked down, because what would have been the point?
They reached the other side, found their cache of weapons, and kept moving.
Marks pointed ahead and motioned Reel to her right and Robie to her left.
The incoming fire started thirty seconds later.
It was live ammo. In Reel’s and Robie’s world there always came a time when there was no other kind.
As the rounds whizzed over their heads Robie and Reel moved forward as a team. They had a mission and a goal, and the sooner they got to it, the better, because the bullets would stop.
Marks hung back since the op was designed for a two-person team. But she watched the pair closely for more than one reason.
She marveled at how Reel and Robie moved as a unit. They each seemed to know what the other was thinking. In less than twenty minutes they had achieved their goal and Marks ordered the live fire to stand down.
On the Jeep ride back Marks told them that they had a visitor.
“Who is it?” asked Robie.
“Someone you know well.”
The Jeep dropped them off about a mile from the facility and then drove on. A minute later Blue Man stepped from behind a tree to greet them.