by L.T. Ryan
* * *
We shared a single room on base. Two single beds, a small kitchenette with a stove, mini-fridge and microwave, and a wooden table with two matching chairs. Frankly, we didn’t need much else. We ate, slept, trained on our own and performed missions with the CIA ops teams. Outside of the missions, the operatives had no interaction with us. It wasn’t a written rule or anything like that. They didn’t want anything to do with us. These guys looked down on the Marines in the program. A stark contrast from the operatives based in the U.S. and Europe. They welcomed the help and our point of view on the missions. Christ, they pulled us eight weeks into recruit training, and we were then put through CIA training. It’s not like Bear and I were hard core Marines.
Bear returned to the room carrying a twelve pack of piss warm beer.
“Get anything to eat?” I asked.
He held up the twelve pack. “Figured it’s a good night to drink our dinner.”
“Only problem with that,” I said, “is six beers doesn’t make a meal.”
He stepped through the doorway and into the room then lifted his other arm. “That’s why I got you your own.”
I laughed, then grabbed the cardboard box holding my dinner and cracked open a warm one, taking a long pull from the bottle.
“God, this stuff is awful,” I said.
Bear chugged three quarters of a bottle then set it down on the table and let out a loud exhale.
“I don’t know, Jack. It’s not that bad.” A loud belch followed.
I finished my beer and pushed back from the table. “And with that, I’m going to get a shower.”
I exited the room into the dimly lit hallway. It was quiet. I checked my watch and saw it was only ten p.m. It was too quiet for ten, though. I shook my head to clear the thoughts and shrugged off the anxiety. I entered the bathroom and shower facility at our end of the hall, finding the communal shower room empty. I quickly washed the sweat, dirt and blood off and then moved to the far end of the row of sinks. I looked into the mirror and smiled at the growth of hair on my face. It had been almost two weeks since I had last shaved. I pulled out a can of shaving cream and my razor, but opted to keep the short beard, for now at least. I liked it.
I couldn’t help but think of how bad that night had gone. Everything was routine until the group of men showed up a few blocks away from the house. People never approached us unless they meant trouble. And lately we found plenty of trouble. A quarter of our assignments in Iraq ended up with us getting into an external conflict apart from our primary target. And it always ended up being a mistake on the part of the men who engaged us. Not just our group either, this was the standard for all ops teams. The men who tried to take us on had no way of knowing who we were. And they had no chance of living long enough to find out. Despite that, they always engaged us. It was like they had nothing to live for.
Or maybe they had everything to die for.
On this night, though, those men hung back, like they were waiting for something. Maybe they were playing games with Bear, the false advancement and the tall man yelling at us. That would have been enough to throw us off, make us think that they were a group of regular guys. Of course, they could have just been a group of regular guys. Maybe they were waiting for us to do something. It’d give them a reason, at least.
Then there was Martinez. He was in rare form tonight. Bear and I worked together, but we weren’t always assigned to the same CIA team. We floated between four different groups. We’d spent enough time with Martinez to know he was a high strung, high motor midget. His guys weren’t any different, either. This incident wasn’t the first time that we’d squared off. It had happened three other times, including once on base. But this time he seemed to be daring me to make a move. Every time we got into it, it was because he pushed the limits on acceptable treatment of detainees. He pushed further than ever before with the woman, and in front of her kids, nonetheless. For a moment, I thought he’d pull the trigger. He might’ve had I not said anything. His guys sure wouldn’t stop him. Pussies.
The gauntlet would come down on me over this. I knew that. It was their word against ours. There were four of them and two of us. Their bosses wouldn’t bother questioning the family for their account of what happened. My bosses were in the U.S. in the Carolinas. I needed to call Abbot and Keller. Give them my side of the story before anyone else talked to them.
I got dressed, exited the restroom and walked back down the empty hallway to our room.
I pushed the door open and called out to Bear from the hallway.
“What do you say we go grab something to eat?”
No response.
“Bear?”
I stuck my head in the room. The back door stood open. I figured he’d stepped outside for some fresh air and decided I might as well join him. I grabbed a beer and found my jacket. My hand reached inside a pocket, searching for my cell phone. Oddly, it was missing. It had been in that pocket all night long. I hadn’t even taken it to check the time.
“Bear, have you seen my phone?”
Still no response.
I stopped moving things around on the table and looked toward the back door and took two steps toward it. I saw Bear standing on the back patio, and he looked at me, but he said nothing.
“Bear?”
He clenched his jaw, but did not respond.
“Jack Noble,” a voice said from behind.
I stopped and turned my head and saw two men, both armed, standing in the back of the room. I knew them by face, not by name. They weren’t friends of mine. I dropped my beer and clasped my hands together behind my head. I looked at the floor and saw fizzing beer wrapping around the soles of my boots.
Two other men led Bear inside. He looked at me and shook his head. Pretty obvious what he was thinking. Same thing I was.
“What’s going on guys?” I said.
“Shut up, Noble,” one of them said from behind me.
“You can’t just detain us without a reason,” I said.
The man laughed. “We’re in Iraq, Noble. We can do whatever the hell we want.”
They grabbed my hands, forced them down and behind my back. I felt the thick plastic zip ties close around my wrist and draw my arms close together. The hard plastic dug into my skin the more I moved.
“If we want you to disappear,” he continued, “there are thousands of miles of deserted land where we can bury you.”
“That a promise?” I said.
“Keep talking.” He grabbed my wrists and forced them upward. “And it will be.”
“Jack,” Bear said, his voice was low and trailed off at the end.
I looked at him.
He shook his head and looked down at the floor.
I followed his gaze and saw my cell phone on the floor, crushed.
“You know, I already talked to Col. Abbot about what happened tonight.” I paused. “He’s sending a team to investigate Martinez.”
The four men laughed.
One behind me said, “You think we’re worried about Abbot? He has less say here than he does in America.” He walked around me, stopped with his face inches from the side of mine. “He doesn’t have crap for pull with us. Our chain of command moves up a hell of a lot faster and farther than yours.”
I cleared my throat but said nothing. I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach but didn’t let my external expression change.
“Are you getting this, Noble? You’re screwed. Nothing is going to get you out of this.”
For what, I thought. Kicking that douchebag Martinez’s ass? Hell, the other ops teams we worked with all said they couldn’t stand him.
“Let’s go.”
They led us through the front door, down the hallway, and outside to a Humvee parked in front of the building. We climbed in through the back passenger side door. Bear and I sat in the middle. Two men sat in back with us, guarding the door. They held their weapons firmly pressed into our sides.
“Make sure you avo
id the potholes,” I said.
Bear chuckled. The four men didn’t. These guys had no sense of humor.
“Shut the hell up, Noble,” the driver said.
I did.
We drove on in silence across the base. Stopped in front of the building we used for detaining persons of interest. Guess that was what Bear and I were now.
