Cole wondered if the gunfire had alerted the hideout to what was coming. He doubted it. The hut was over a small rise, and the sound of gunfire was hardly uncommon in this part of the world. Zach checked the house, just in case, but there was no sign of new activity. The windows were still lit, and the heat signature of smoke pouring from the chimney glowed on the screen.
But Cole was shaken. His hands trembled. If the attackers had been more patient and a little smarter, they might have killed several of the Americans before Zach and he even knew what was up. They had failed. Check that—he had failed, needlessly preoccupied with the three children as they followed goats down a mountain path.
“You okay, man?” Zach asked, off mike.
“Not really. You?”
“That whole thing with the kids gave me the heebie-jeebies. They even glowed funny on the IR.”
And for whatever amalgamation of reasons, that mission had proven to be Cole’s tipping point. A haunting vision, followed by an error in judgment. Plenty of other pilots had endured far more harrowing moments and had emerged emotionally unscathed, or so it seemed. But Cole had collapsed. Crumpled. He hadn’t been up to the challenge.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Keira said, bringing him back to the present. God knows what he must have been mumbling.
“Maybe.”
“Besides. It was the whole week that got to you. The children who died. That would get to anyone.”
“I guess. Wade Castle’s mission. And that guy Lancer, whoever he was.”
Then Cole’s memory seized on another moment from that final mission. Had he dreamed it tonight, or had it really taken place? It was real. He recalled it clearly now, a brief exchange of chat dialogue long after the firefight occurred.
“What is it?” Keira asked. “What did you just think of?”
“That call name. Lancer. He turned up on the recon, too. Later, right after the raid. He had some questions or something for one of the ops commanders.”
“What kind of questions?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I know his name came up, in the chat. And it wasn’t the CO he was talking to. It was the second in command. It was kind of hinky, really. I remember feeling that even then.”
“How so?”
“The way the ops guy talked. The language he used when he spoke with me by radio. The second in command, I mean. It was enough to make me wonder if these guys were some kind of hybrid unit. Maybe with an Agency component, or even privateers. Like the stuff Bickell was talking about. I guess I’d blotted all of this out.”
He wondered if flying those toy drones this afternoon had stirred up these memories. Watching the images on the goggles had been a little bit like being back in the trailer, sitting in front of the pile of video screens with a stick and rudder at his side.
“You should sleep now. This is wearing you out.”
He said nothing. He tried to remember more about that day, the dialogue, the players. Then Keira moved suddenly on the bed, startling the cat.
“Shit!” she said.
“What?”
“The house. Look out the window.”
Lights were on.
“Barb’s room. Downstairs, too. Fuck. And I left my door open, so she’ll know I’m gone. I should go now.”
“Take Cheryl with you, show her the bandages. Maybe then she’ll—”
“She’ll know. She always knows.”
“Then we’ll just have to live with it.”
“Yeah. We will.” She kissed him, but in a hurry, like a wife trying to get out the door for work. Then she pulled on her robe, belting it as she eased toward the door.
“See you at breakfast?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. Might as well take the heat with you.”
She smiled and shut the door behind her, leaving Cole alone and uncertain, already wondering what to make of the whole episode. Across the room, the cat yowled, a low strange cry that was almost a growl, and when Cole turned he saw Cheryl arching her back like some Halloween cutout. Eerie.
“Wrong holiday, girl. You’re supposed to know it’s almost Christmas.”
Then he checked the time, which threw him further off balance.
It was exactly 3:50 a.m.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Any chances for an awkward scene at the breakfast table evaporated with the sudden arrival of Nelson Hayley Sharpe, who awakened the entire household at first light by knocking loudly at the door.
Cole, hearing the commotion from the pool house, threw on some clothes just in time to witness the initial exchange of pleasantries.
“Who the fuck are you?” a bleary-eyed Steve asked from the open doorway.
“Nelson Hayley Sharpe, and I’m here to save your bacon.”
Steve seemed on the verge of either laughing or hitting him, then opted to simply shake his head and step back, gesturing like a doorman for Sharpe to enter. Cole got there before the door closed behind him, and Steve gave him a wry look.
“Get a handle on this guy before I wring his neck, how ’bout it. And maybe make some coffee while you’re at it.” Then a slight pause, followed by: “Lover boy.” He didn’t say it whimsically.
Barb was already up. Keira was presumably still in bed. Cole could hardly believe that she’d been in his own bed the night before. Now he wished he’d showered. His scent alone was probably damning. He slunk off toward the kitchen to brew a pot, deciding he’d better just follow orders for a while. Wait for the storm to pass. Same way they handled these things in the Air Force. He heard Sharpe’s voice over the gurgle of the water as it filled the pot.
“If you’ll lend me a hand, I’ll start unloading my gear.”
“Gear?” Steve said. “Who says you’re staying?”
“You’ll be saying it once you’ve seen what I’ve got to offer.”
“Does Cole know you were planning this?”
“I asked him to let me reveal it. He’ll assist me. We need a third pair of hands for the setup, but first I’ll need a look at the lay of the land.”
Cole heard the door slam just as the pot finished brewing. He carried full mugs out to the living room to Steve and Barb, who were still marveling at Sharpe’s little floor show.
“What the hell’s he up to?” Steve asked.
“Did you just invite him down here without asking?” Barb asked. “Tell him he could do whatever he wants?”
“You should’ve at least cleared it with Keira,” Steve said. “Or maybe you did. Not that she’d say no to you.”
“And why would I want to?”
Keira, coming down the stairs. Same sweet tone as ever, but a set expression on her face. She was showered and fresh, which made Cole feel even staler and crustier.
“I need coffee,” Cole said. “Then I’ll go see what he’s up to.”
He retreated to the kitchen. He considered pouring a mug for Keira, then decided he didn’t want everyone watching him hand it to her. Their voices were rising in anger as he returned. Fine. Let them tear each other to shreds. It was Keira’s house. If she wanted Sharpe gone, then Cole would ask him to leave, but only then. At this hour of the day he had no stomach for the sniping, the jealousy, so he headed straight outdoors, away from Sharpe and toward the water.
Steve surprised him by joining him a minute or so later. They gazed out at the Bay for a few seconds. The sun was just coming up. They walked around to the sheltered side of the house without speaking a word, and spotted Sharpe a few hundred yards up the driveway. He was down on one knee at the edge of the cornfield. He stood and looked up at the sky, moving his hands as if plotting vectors and angles, an engineer with some grand calculation playing out in his head.