Hunter leaned against a desk, arms folded across his chest, and listened quietly as I explained the events of the return flight. His one eye studied me as I recalled Gordon’s order to kill Rafael Montalban. Sarah put a hand over her mouth when I described dropping him into the ocean.
“So tell me,” Colonel Hunter said, “where is this laptop? You retrieved the target’s laptop computer, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Tailor replied.
“So where is it?” Hunter repeated.
“We gave it to Anders,” Tailor said, sounding confused.
“What?” Hunter said, anger rising in his voice.
“Anders was waiting for us on the deck of the ship,” Hudson said. “He took the laptop from us. Did we do something wrong, Colonel?”
Hunter didn’t say anything for a moment. “No, boys, you did fine. Where is Mr. Anders now?”
“He stayed on the chopper after it dropped us off, sir,” Holbrook said. “He’s wherever those stealth birds go, I guess.”
“I see,” Hunter said, rubbing his chin. It was obvious that something was very wrong, but he didn’t want to discuss it with us. At that point I was so tired I didn’t really care. I just wanted to go to bed and forget this day had happened. “That’s all I have for you, gentlemen. Go get some rack time. You won’t have anything else scheduled for as long as I can manage it. You’ve all been busting ass for a long time. You deserve a break. Tonight, after sundown, we’ll have a memorial service for Cromwell, Byrne, and Blutarsky. Dismissed.”
We all got up to leave. Sarah crossed the room and threw her arms around me. She squeezed me tightly, then stepped away.
“I was worried,” she said simply.
“I’m okay,” I said, smiling a little. “It was a bad night. But I’m okay.”
“Ms. McAllister, you can smother Mr. Valentine with affection later,” Colonel Hunter said. “I need to speak with him. You, too, Tailor.” Sarah’s face turned red, and I felt myself flush a little.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Val, everyone knows,” Tailor said. “It’s not a secret.”
“Did you guys think you were keeping it a secret?” Holbrook asked, standing by the door. “Wow, that’s funny,” he said humorlessly, then stepped out of the classroom. Hudson and Fillmore followed.
“I’ll see you later,” Sarah said, squeezing my hand. She left the room, leaving Tailor and me alone with Colonel Hunter.
“Is something wrong, Colonel?” Tailor asked.
“You’re goddamned right something’s wrong,” Hunter growled. “I’m not yelling at you, son, don’t worry. You boys took a bad situation and made it work, like you always do. Matter of fact, I’m damned proud of you all.”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “this is bullshit. You told us we’d be fighting terrorists. You told us we were taking the war to their backyard. You said we were accomplishing something here. So what did we accomplish by kidnapping some rich guy off of his yacht? What did we accomplish when I murdered him and dropped him in the ocean? What the fuck are we doing here, sir?” I realized then that I’d almost been yelling at Colonel Hunter. He didn’t seem fazed.
“I don’t know,” Hunter said.
“Um . . . what?” Tailor asked.
“I don’t know what you accomplished, boys. I’m going to level with you here. I saw Gordon’s intelligence on Rafael Montalban. His organization definitely was funneling money to General Al Sabah and other radical elements throughout the region. We’ve known about that for years.”
“Then why haven’t we done anything until now, sir?” I asked, more than a little confused.
“It’s . . . complicated, son,” Hunter said. “This stuff is way above my pay grade. We’re talking about national foreign policy stuff here. International business, transnational interests, and supranational organizations. Rafael Montalban was connected. He had ties to the leadership of the European Union. He had ties to the UN Security Council. He had . . .” Hunter paused. “Well, let’s just say the man had a lot of powerful friends.”
“And we took this guy out,” Tailor said. “Is that good?”
“I don’t know,” Hunter said. “He was a power player, but he was just one man. There are many others to take his place. Rafael Montalban has a younger brother, Eduard, who will probably take over for him. Killing one man won’t break the Montalban Exchange. It won’t stop the flow of money to the enemy. Christ, if that was all it took, we’d have killed all those sons of bitches years ago.”
“What sons of bitches?” I asked.
“Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, boys, I want to thank you for the work you’ve done. You two, in particular, have been the sharp end of the stick for Dead Six since your first operation. And it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
Tailor and I looked at each other. “What do you mean?”
“For my part,” Hunter said, “I’m going to tell Gordon that I’m taking you two off the mission roster. Hudson also. Hell, Holbrook, too. Fillmore, he spent the last two months sitting in a safe house. He’s raring to go, still. But you boys need a break.”
“I appreciate that,” Tailor said.
“Gordon Willis wants to see you both,” Hunter said. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“What the hell does he want now?” I asked ruefully.
“I think he wants to offer you two a job,” Hunter replied.
“What?”
“Project Heartbreaker is a temporary assignment, as you two are aware. I’m sure you’ve guessed that we have a much larger organization that’s supporting our mission here. Well, we also have an active paramilitary branch that’s always recruiting. I think Gordon wants to offer you a position there.”
“Wait,” Tailor said. “Who the hell does Gordon work for, exactly? The CIA?”
Hunter didn’t blink. “Just like when you signed up for Project Heartbreaker, there are a lot of things you don’t get to know until you sign the paper. Even then, there are a lot of things you don’t get to know. I know you’re angry. Just . . .think real hard before you make any rash decisions, boys. We could use you. It would probably be . . . better if you signed on. It’s not always like this. I’ve been doing this for a long time. There are a lot of things going on right now that I don’t like. Back in the old days a cocksucker like Gordon never would’ve . . .” He trailed off. “Never mind. Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m tired, too. Stand by. Gordon will be here in a few minutes. Remember what I told you.” Colonel Hunter left the room without another word.
“He didn’t tell us anything,” Tailor grumbled. “I’m sick of all this innuendo and double-talk. People need to quit dropping hints and shit. They either just need to tell us straight up or shut their mouths.”
“Skullduggery gives me a headache,” I said, rubbing my temple. My shoulders sagged from the weight of my body armor and gear. I still had a shotgun slung across my back. I just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. I was in no mood for any of Gordon’s bullshit.
But even when Gordon wasn’t around, he could still piss you off. Another twenty minutes ticked by before Gordon strolled into the classroom. He had his suit jacket hanging over the crook of his arm. He tie was loosened and his shirt collar was unbuttoned. It was as casual as I’d ever seen him. He was wearing a leather shoulder holster with a Glock tucked under his left arm. He looked like a TV cop.
“Mr. Valentine!” he said jovially, vigorously shaking my hand. Gordon was one of those people who seemed like he was trying to crush your fingers during a handshake. “Mr. Tailor! Good to see you both. How was your flight?”
“I shot a man and kicked him out of the helicopter, Gordon,” I said.
“I know. Nicely done, Mr. Valentine. Excellent work rolling with a changing situation. I know things were tense, and I know you gentlemen have been under a lot of pressure. Please believe me when I say your efforts are paying off.”
“Is that so?” Tailor asked.
“It certainly is!” Gordon said. “We’ve been w
atching you two very closely. I’m prepared to offer you, both of you, full-time positions with my organization.”
“What organization is that, exactly?” I asked.
Gordon smiled. “You know the drill, Mr. Valentine. Need-to-know. And unless I can count on you to make a commitment, you don’t need to know.”
Tailor lit a cigarette, not bothering to ask if it was okay to smoke in the classroom. “What exactly are you offering us?”
“A full-time job,” Gordon replied. “You two would start right away. We’d have you on the next flight out of Zubara. You’ll head back to our training center stateside for indoc and processing. After a couple weeks of R&R, of course. Paid R&R. You two have more than earned it.”
I was speechless. Tailor kept asking questions. “So we’d just leave?”
“I’m going to level with you,” Gordon said, leaning in conspiratorially. “And this goes no further than you two. Project Heartbreaker is winding down. Your mission tonight was probably the last major operation we’re going to take on.”
“What? What happened?”
“I had to fight to make Project Heartbreaker happen,” Gordon said. “My superiors never really believed in it. It was a constant struggle to get funding and resources. That’s why you were always so short on manpower and equipment. That’s also why we ran you so hard. We had no choice. I never wanted to send you two out on missions, alone, with no back up. A lot of decisions made over my head forced my hand, I’m afraid.”
“Like risking our lives to capture some guy then changing your mind later and ordering me to kill him?” I asked bitterly.
“Yes, like that,” Gordon said. “I hated to do that, Mr. Valentine. I still think Rafael Montalban would’ve been an excellent asset. But the situation changed, and so did my orders. I asked you to carry them out, and you did. That sort of dedication and ability to adapt to a dynamic situation is why we’re having this conversation right now. It’s no accident your chalk was sent after Rafael Montalban. My organization needs people of your caliber.”
“Okay, okay,” Tailor said, interjecting before I could say anything else. “What would this position involve?” I couldn’t believe it. Is he seriously interested in Gordon’s offer?
“You’ll work for me. Things are changing quickly. I need people I can count on so we can stay on top of things. I need people who can carry out tough jobs despite limited resources and information. The pay is far better than you’re making now. You won’t have to deal with any bureaucratic bullshit. You two will answer only to me.”
I found it darkly humorous that Gordon didn’t consider himself a bureaucrat. “You mean like Anders?”
“Yes!” Gordon beamed. “As a matter of fact, Anders is my right-hand man. You’ll be working with him a lot. He’s spoken highly of you both.”
“I’ll bet,” I said. “Did he tell you he let Singer bleed to death without even trying to help him?”
“I was fully briefed on that operation, Mr. Valentine. I know that was tough, but the import—”
I cut him off. “Tough? Tough? Is that what you’d call that? We’ve had thirty percent casualties, and you call that tough?”
“You need to control your temper,” Gordon snapped. “I’m trying to offer you a job!”
“Don’t fuck with me, Gordon. I’ve seen full well what your jobs involve! And I’m sick of this shit!”
Tailor stepped between me and Gordon, trying to calm me down. I don’t know if it was fatigue, stress, or a combination of the two, but I was on the verge of blowing up completely. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was so mad I was almost shaking.
“Fine!” Gordon said, gesturing sharply with his hands. “I’m trying to do you a favor. If this is how you want it, forget it. Mr. Anders warned me about this. He told me that when things start to get tough and you lose a couple guys, you fall apart. I didn’t believe it. I’ve seen your record. But you know what? He’s right. You can’t handle it, Valentine. You’re not cut out for this. This was a mistake. I need solid, dependable men. I don’t need guys that turn to mush when we take a few casualties. Shit happens. People die. That’s the way it is.”
Something clicked just then. I stepped back and straightened myself out. My eyes narrowed. My face went blank. Tailor saw the expression on my face. His eyes went wide, and he turned to Gordon.
“Listen, you wanna leave now,” he said. “Val had a bad night. Bad timing, you know?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Gordon said. “Forget the whole thing. You two want to go down with this ship, you’re more than welcome. We can always get more. You know how many people there are like you out there? Half burned-out shooters, desperate for their glory days and the old run-and-gun, who jump at any offer we give them? They’re all so eager, and they don’t ask a lot of questions. You, for example.”
“Gordon, I’m warning you,” Tailor said.
“I’m not afraid of you, Valentine,” Gordon said, looking at me over Tailor’s shoulder. He gestured to the pistol under his arm. “I’m not some paper-pushing desk jockey, you know.”
“Gordon, there’s no way you’re going to get that gun out before Val blows a hole in your chest. Everybody just calm down now!”
“I’m perfectly calm,” I stated. “I’m not angry at you because my friends died. We knew the risks when we signed up. I’m angry because my friends died as a direct result of your incompetence and blatant disregard for our lives. So I’m going to have to decline your offer.” I turned around and walked away, but paused at the door. “Gordon, if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” I turned and left the room.
Chapter 17:
The Coup
LORENZO
May 10
The news was grim. There had been an explosion at the palace. The emir was dead. Until further notice, a curfew was in effect at eight o’clock every evening. The radio’s volume had been turned up, and the crowd of foreign workers, mostly Pakistani and Sri Lankan, gathered at the café were all listening carefully, many of them surely wondering just how bad it was going to get, but too poor to leave their relatively good-paying jobs to fly home. The news report ended on the high note that the heroic General Sabah had personally assured the destruction of the Zionist backed criminals, and all the workers went back to their cheap food.
“Tomorrow’s the big day. Are you nervous?” Jill asked.
“Of course not,” I lied. “I eat commando death squads for breakfast.”
The two of us were not that far from our apartment. Tired of waiting for the Fat Man, and feeling the need to keep busy, we had continued our search for Dead Six. It had been just as fruitless as before. Zubara was a big city, and nobody we talked to recognized the Americans of Dead Six. I don’t know where they bought their food, or who did their laundry, and apparently none of them had ever taken a taxi, and it was really pissing me off.
Jill Del Toro’s education was coming along. She’d been my shadow for the last few days. She no longer walked like an American in public, and I was pretty sure I’d gotten her to the point that she was street-smart enough to not just get randomly murdered on her own. Today she was playing a relatively convincing imported Filipina. I’d helped her with her makeup so she’d look more forgettable. She looked like a cleaning, lady and I looked like I should be unclogging drains.
It turned out that both of us were fluent in Spanish. Jill’s paternal grandparents had been Mexican immigrants, and her dad had met and married her mom while stationed in Subic Bay. So we could converse freely here, as hardly anybody except for the occasional Filipino or European spoke Spanish in the Zoob and it didn’t stick out in public like English did.
She’d come along pretty well. If she had the inclination, I thought she could actually have a future as a criminal. She was certainly a good liar. “I’m not worried, either,” Jill said with confidence.
The last few days had been kind of awkward. Neither one of us talked about what had happened between us, which was good, I think, beca
use that would have just needlessly complicated things. I had to keep my mind on business. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” Jill responded quickly.
“It’s about tomorrow’s job,” I said.
“Oh.” She went back to her food, stabbing an olive with her fork.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. This could be something simple and I can just walk right in and grab the box, or it could be crazy. I just don’t know. We’re going to have to come up with a plan on the fly. So I might need your help, I might not.”
“I’m ready. Dead Six ruined my life, Lorenzo. I’ll do whatever I have to do. I already showed you I’m willing to shoot them. What more do you need me to prove?”
I smiled. She was aggressive. “That’s not what I meant. Tomorrow, we either succeed or fail. After that, it’s on to Phase Three, and that’s my problem, not yours.”
“When will you tell me what that even is?”
“You really don’t want to know. Let’s just say that it’s stupid and dangerous. But that’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m trying to say is that after tomorrow, you’re done.”
She looked up from her lunch. “What do you mean?”
“I told you that if you helped me, I’d help you. I’ve had Reaper working on fake papers for you. I’ve got contacts I can refer you through. Basically, after tomorrow, you can go back to the US if you want.” I would need to walk her through all the details of setting up a new life, but she didn’t belong here, in this disintegrating shit hole, not anymore.
“Home?” Jill seemed shocked. Not upset, just surprised. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“We’ll worry about tomorrow first.” I noticed some blue uniforms coming down the street. The security forces were randomly rousting people off the streets for questioning. It would be best to avoid that. I pulled out my wallet and threw down some riyals. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Dead Six-ARC Page 34
