by Matt Rogers
‘Not Reed, obviously. He’s sticking his nose in places it shouldn’t be.’
‘That depends on how you look at it. I think he did a good thing.’
‘You’re not the investigator.’
She eyed him up and down. ‘And you are?’
‘I guess I don’t exactly fit that job description.’
‘So what do you do?’
King thought for a moment. ‘You know, I don’t think I fit any job description.’
‘Not this cryptic bullshit again,’ she muttered.
They made their way toward a gate manned by a single Force Recon Marine in full tactical gear, clutching an M4A1 carbine assault rifle in his gloved hands. King found himself surprised that the man hadn’t broken a sweat in the attire, despite the intense heat.
‘Just one guy?’ he said while they were still a hundred feet from the steel gate.
‘Yeah. With Reed out of the equation for now, we’re stretched thin. There’s me, Johnson here, and one other guy — Victor.’
‘They’re reliable?’
‘We wouldn’t have been sent here otherwise. But you’re most welcome here. You can lend a hand with guarding the premises while you sort Reed out.’
Johnson nodded as they approached and thumbed a keypad on the other side of the chain-link fence. The gate trundled open with an electronic whine, audible over the noise of the jeep’s engine. Without slowing down, Beth shot straight through into the compound, barely glancing at Johnson as she leant pressure on the accelerator. As soon as they were through, King glanced back to see the gate closing at equal speed.
Johnson watched them speed away.
‘You two don’t get along?’ he said.
Beth shot daggers at him with a single look. ‘The hell are you talking about?’
‘You didn’t stop and say hi.’
‘I don’t think you know what Somalia’s like,’ she said. ‘We leave that gate open as little as humanly possible. There’s all the time in the world for niceties later. I get along just fine with Johnson. And you will, too.’
‘How’s the dynamic between the four of you?’ King said. ‘Who’s the fourth guy?’
‘Victor. He’s nice enough. Both of them kept their distance from Reed, though.’
‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘There’s minimal downtime here, so if your personalities don’t match you tend to keep to yourself. Victor and Johnson are buddy-buddy. Reed was a little quieter than them.’
‘Shy?’
‘You don’t stay shy as a Force Recon Marine,’ Beth said, shaking her head. ‘I felt bad for him. He was just reserved. Kept to himself. But it made it easy for Victor and Johnson to quarantine him to the back of the compound when he played up.’
‘I’d say he did a little more than playing up.’
‘Whatever you want to call it.’
‘Are you two close?’
‘Me and Reed?’
King nodded.
She shrugged. ‘About as close as you can be in this kind of situation. Plus there’s the other thing.’
King raised an eyebrow.
She glanced across as she navigated the jeep into a small gravel parking lot in front of a long low building, built lodge-style. ‘He made advances within the first few nights. I turned him down, but it’s been a little unsteady ever since. I think we’ve both moved on from that, though. I doubt he thinks about it much anymore.’
‘Uh-huh,’ King said, throwing the passenger door open and stepping down onto the gravel.
‘And if you get any of the same ideas,’ she said, ‘I won’t be as cordial to you. You’re here by invitation. Play by the rules.’
‘Never have,’ King muttered under his breath, quiet enough to remain out of earshot.
They both rounded the hood of the jeep and stepped up onto the lodge’s wide terrace.
‘Welcome to your new home,’ she said.
She pushed open the front door and King strode through.
10
He stepped into a sparsely furnished, utilitarian space with a distinct lack of colour, tone or flavour. The floors were panelled wood and full of chips, scratches and nicks. The walls were plain white, and devoid of any kind of artwork or decoration. He recognised the room as a broad communal space, complete with tattered couches, a small kitchenette with labelled cupboards, and a grimy television that looked as if it hadn’t been switched on for years.
Hallways branched off in random directions, poorly lit, leading through to what King assumed would be sleeping quarters. He stood patiently in the centre of the communal space and waited for Beth to follow him into the long building. It was entirely empty. He listened out for any kind of distant noise to signify that someone was home, but he heard nothing.
She closed the front door and strode straight past him, headed for the dining room table. It was a fat slab of wood propped up by four thin metal legs, thrown together haphazardly without a care in the world for aesthetics. She dragged one of the spindly chairs out from underneath the table and gestured for him to sit.
He crossed the room and sat.
She opened one of the cabinets in the kitchenette and leant down to retrieve a fat dossier of documents. She slammed the files emphatically onto the table between them and pulled up a chair of her own.
‘Where is everyone?’ King said, staring around the room.
‘None of the peacekeepers are here, which means they’re off conducting their own business. Victor will be accompanying them as their security detail. You’re not to worry about them.’
King nodded. ‘I take it you aren’t either?’
Beth shrugged. ‘Pretty much. We just shepherd them around from location to location. They deliver food, supply medical aid. All the things the locals need. And there’s not much to do around here, if I’m being honest. Peacekeepers aren’t of much interest to any of the warring factions. There’s nothing to gain, and a whole lot to lose. If al-Shabaab raids this compound and plunders it, they won’t get much apart from a few guns and a few supplies. It’s not worth their time. And on top of that they’ll draw the scorn of everyone important, which means it’ll be a little harder to get the basic necessities they need to survive. And it’s hard enough for them already.’
‘So then why am I here if there’s no danger?’ King said, even though he knew the answer. He wanted Beth to vocalise it in her own words.
‘Because Bryson goddamn Reed decided to antagonise everyone in the area, it seems.’
‘Where is he?’
She jerked a thumb at the door they’d just come through. ‘Up the back of the compound. In the guest house. He’s exiled himself from the rest of us until you arrived. We’d been told you were coming, and he felt it was the right thing to do. He admits he fucked up.’
‘Very noble,’ King noted, somewhat sarcastically. ‘Is he locked up there?’
She gave him the evil eye. ‘Of course not. He’s not a savage.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I’ve spent time with him,’ she said. ‘Can you say the same?’
‘Not yet. Which brings me to my next point. What the hell are we doing in here?’
She motioned to the dossier in front of her. ‘I’m going to bring you up to speed on the history of—’
King held up a hand, an abrupt gesture, cutting her off instantaneously. She froze and stared at him with a perplexed expression.
‘I’m not interested in that,’ he said. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I’m interested in Reed.’
‘I think—’
King shot his chair back and got to his feet, scraping it against the floor in the process. He ignored Beth’s venomous stare and made straight for the front door.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, clearly taking offence to King’s mannerisms.
He didn’t respond, instead hurrying for the door.
He heard the distinct scrape of her chair legs as she scrambled to catch up to him. As he placed a hand on the doorknob, mo
ving to throw it open, Beth came storming in from behind and slammed a palm against the wood, grinding it shut.
‘What’s your deal?’ she demanded. ‘Who are you?’
King sighed. ‘Look…’
‘I need you to start talking if I’m going to trust you going off on wild tangents like this. You’re not doing anything by the book.’
‘I’m not on the books, okay?’ he said, which made her freeze in her tracks. ‘How did you lot get informed that I was on my way?’
‘We got a call from the very top,’ she said.
‘That was legitimate. But I can’t say the same about what I do. The truth is, I’m just as confused about my official role — maybe even more so, because I’m the one doing this shit without a clue as to what my operational capacity is. Got it?’
‘You’re like a one-man show?’ she said. ‘You get sent into places to fix things?’
‘Something like that. I’m afforded certain freedoms that enlisted men and women aren’t. I’m new to all of this — as you can tell — but from what I’m understanding, I’m given free reign to do whatever the hell I want, as long as I get the job done.’
‘Whatever Reed did at the port…’ Beth said, thinking hard, connecting the dots.
‘If he had unfinished business,’ King said, ‘I can finish it for him. Or I can just go down there and snoop around. I can do anything I want — I think. So you don’t need to spend time bringing me up to speed on Reed’s psychological profile or his history in the military, or any official procedures I’m supposed to adhere to in Somalia. None of that applies to me. You all know what I’m here for, but you need to afford me the ability to react to things however I please.’
‘I understand,’ Beth said.
‘Thank you. Sorry to be so confrontational.’
‘It’s fine. I was treating you as a common grunt. How old are you, by the way?’
‘Thirty,’ King lied.
‘You look younger.’
She refused to take her hand off the door. King sighed and bowed his head. ‘I am. But you’ll think I’m an inexperienced idiot if I tell you how old I am.’
‘I already do,’ she said. ‘So that won’t make a difference.’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘How’d you land this gig so early?’ she said. ‘You some kind of prodigy?’
‘Something like that.’
‘You’ll end up dead all the same out here. The al-Shabaab militants — hell, even the army too — they don’t care about your talents. They’ll shoot you down without hesitation. So be careful. Don’t get reckless out here.’
‘I’m not sure I know how to do anything else,’ he said with a smirk, wrenching the door open despite the resistance of Beth’s arm against it. She relented and let him through. ‘Let’s go talk to Reed.’
11
King couldn’t shake the intense feeling of vulnerability as he stepped back out into open ground. The main lodge had brought an aura of safety with it, like they were protected from all harm by the surrounding walls even though it would only take a single shoulder-fired missile to disintegrate the building into a raging fireball.
It felt as if there were eyes on him at all times. He stepped down off the terrace and rounded the side of the building, Beth trailing in his wake. As he slogged through choking weeds, he took note of the lodge’s wooden walls to his left and the chain-link fence a dozen feet to his right. Beyond the fence, the overgrown field ran for half a mile before the outskirts of Mogadishu swallowed up the free land. King eyed towering residential apartment complexes, all visibly crumbling, many with significant damage to their exteriors. A smattering of them looked like they would collapse at any moment.
Half a mile.
Easy enough for a trained sniper.
The side passage opened out into a yard tended to with similar care as the rest of the compound. King imagined that gardening wasn’t high on the list of AMISOM’s priorities. He stumbled through the weeds and made for the collection of portable buildings that had seemingly been dumped up the back of the complex and left to their own devices. Most of the paint had flaked off the exterior of the units, scorched by the overbearing sun.
‘Which one’s Reed’s?’ King said.
Beth caught up to him and motioned to the furthermost unit. ‘Right up the back.’
‘You said he wasn’t detained?’
She shook her head. ‘None of us were about to do that. We still don’t know if he’ll even be punished for what he did. War isn’t the most stable industry.’
‘So he chose to exile himself?’
‘He heard that we got a call from the top dogs. Thought they might look at him more favourably if he owned up to his mistakes and quarantined himself. I think Victor and Johnson both were thinking the same thing, but neither of them were adamant enough to start a fight about it. Reed went peacefully.’
‘You been talking to him during his self-imposed quarantine?’
She shook her head. ‘Nods here and there. He does his own thing. I think he’s shitting himself about the visitor deciding his fate.’
King shook his head back. ‘I’m not here to enact punishment. I’m here to get to the bottom of this, and eye his handiwork.’
‘Handiwork?’
King paused in the middle of the field — otherwise, they would have made it to Reed’s portable unit before the conversation concluded. ‘Have you seen Reed in action?’
The perplexed look returned, spreading across Beth’s face. ‘In action?’
‘When he killed the three militants. Did you see it?’
‘No.’
‘Did anyone?’
‘No.’
‘If he has the ability to defend himself in a three-on-one situation, that’s worth taking a look at.’
‘Wait,’ Beth said, touching a hand to King’s arm — a gesture that he wouldn’t have thought possible given the curt demeanour she’d adopted when she’d picked him up from the airport. ‘You’re a recruiter? Are you kidding me? You want him to do what you do?’
Fuck, King thought, realising he might have opened up a little more than he should have.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘That’s what you’re implying. You think he’s some kind of prodigy like yourself? Is that what you do? Run around taking on small private armies? A trained killer?’
King thought of Mexico.
Actually, that’s exactly what I do.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘You’re living in a fantasy world. I deal with threats — they’re never like that.’
Yes they are, he thought.
‘Is that what you’re about to do here?’ she said, gesturing to their surroundings outside the compound. ‘Take what Reed says and go start World War Three?’
‘I think I’ll avoid that if it’s possible.’
‘Let’s hope it is then,’ she huffed, her tone sardonic. She took the lead, hurrying King toward Reed’s unit, suddenly impatient to get the proceedings underway. King recognised the shift in mood. Beth wanted him to go about his business and then leave as fast as possible. She evidently thought he attracted nothing but trouble.
Maybe she was right.
She stepped up onto the tiny deck outside the portable room and rapped sharply on the thin door. There was no response for a long, drawn-out moment. Then King sensed movement within the walls — they were paper-thin and made of easily-destructible material, which allowed him the privilege of being able to hear Reed approaching.
The man’s footsteps were heavy.
Big guy, King thought.
Reed opened the door and King found himself face-to-face with what appeared to be his identical twin.
12
They were both powerhouses, each standing roughly six-foot-three and built like tanks. King eyed the man through the doorway and met his gaze, a gaze that was just as hardened and bulletproof as his own. Reed had buzzed his hair in similar fashion — King had decided to saw off his long l
ocks after Mexico, preferring a streamlined approach that allowed him the privilege of not having to worry about strands obscuring his vision.
They both had the same pronounced jawline, too.
‘You’re the guy?’ Reed said in a gruff voice, resigned to his fate.
King nodded. ‘I’m the guy.’
‘I thought you’d be older.’
‘I’m not a bureaucrat.’
‘What are you?’
‘I told you. I’m the guy.’
Reed shrugged like he didn’t care what that meant and stepped aside to allow King through.
‘I’ll leave you boys to it,’ Beth said, retreating off the terrace. ‘Let me know if you need me.’
Her request was answered with silence, so she turned and strode fast away from the portable unit, leaving the pair to hash things out without interference. King watched her go, then turned back to Reed. ‘She doesn’t think you’ve done anything wrong.’
‘I haven’t.’
King nodded. ‘Let’s talk.’
He accepted Reed’s invitation into the unit and moved straight past the man, exposing himself to an attack from behind. He thought of how effortless it would be for Reed to turn and loop a powerful forearm around his throat, at the same time leaping on him like a human backpack to apply maximum pressure to his neck. Once the hooks were in, King knew he would be helpless to resist fading into oblivion.
But he shrugged off the foolish thought, because Reed could have simply up and left any time he wanted if he had desertion on his mind. He had stuck to his position, and even detached himself from the rest of the unit in an attempt to impress his superiors.
King admired the man’s courage.
It reminded him of a time in Ramadi, a soulless city buried in Iran, where he had abandoned traditional protocol and gunned through a two-storey house full of insurgents after witnessing them kill an innocent civilian. That particular event had triggered his involvement with Black Force, and his off-the-books career had begun in emphatic fashion. At the time he’d been scared shitless of the repercussions, expecting his superiors to chew him out at any moment.
