“Millie, that’s ten miles and mainly uphill. It’s so hot this morning. No wonder you look like you’re about to die. You probably have low blood sugar again. Did you eat before you started? I’ve told you to carbo-load before you jog or you’re going to keep crashing.” He’s made it over to the kitchen, where he’s pouring me a glass of orange juice. He brings it to me with a jar of almonds. He pulls me up by my shoulders until I’m sitting half-way up, propped up on the pillows he’s fluffing behind me. “You need to get some sugar back in your system. Here. Drink. And eat some almonds, too. I’m going to get you some dry clothes.”
As the juice starts to enter my system, my brain snaps out of the fog and I remember the rest of it—meeting with George first at my house and then in his car. I remember what he told me when we were in his car, and it makes me start shaking again. I drop the jar of almonds and watch it hit my lap before it tumbles to the floor shattering on impact—sending almonds flying everywhere.
Chase is walking down the stairs with fresh clothes. He jumps down the last five stairs as the jar hits the ground. He’s running toward me—hopping through the shattered glass and almonds like he’s making his way through a minefield. He finally lands on the couch beside me.
He grabs my shoulders. “Millie!”
I look up at him—tears starting to rapidly form in my eyes. “Chase. Is Dad alive?”
“What? Millie. What’s wrong with you?” He shakes my shoulders gently. “Are you hallucinating? I think I need to take you to the hospital.”
“George told me he was alive.” I start to shake again.
“Millie. What are you talking about? Who is George?”
“My boss from the agency. He was at my house this morning. I just left him. He told me Dad might still be alive—that he was alive after the day of the explosion.”
Chase’s mouth is wide open. He stares at me like he thinks I’ve completely lost it. “Millie,” he says slowly, “are you being serious right now? No. Mack is not alive. You know that. And I don’t know who this George guy is or why he’s telling you that, but I do know, he wasn’t there when Mack died. I was. I watched it happen. Your dad is not alive.”
As my brain starts to focus again, I remember everything George said. “Did you find Dad’s body that day?”
Chase lets go of my shoulders and looks down. “He’s dead, Mills. He’s dead.”
“Answer my question.”
Chase moves to the other end of the couch. He lifts my feet and puts them on his lap as he sits down. “That day,” he says, wiping his hands over his face. “I’ve never told you everything about that day. I don’t think you really want to know.”
“Tell me, Chase. I need to know. Tell me. Please.”
He sighs and looks away from me. “We were clearing a little Iraqi village. Mack peeled off for some reason and went into one of the buildings we were passing. I saw him go in. The building blew maybe twenty seconds later. There’s no way he survived it. All of a sudden, we’re taking enemy fire. We knew Mack was gone. The entire building was reduced to rubble—and him with it. I had to call for an immediate evacuation. A marine unit went in later that day to clear the site. They searched the entire area. There was nothing there. The explosion caused a fire. Everything was gone, Millie. Your dad was gone. He died instantly in the explosion.”
I put my face in my hands and mumble through my fingers, “If you never recovered his body, whose ashes did we dump in the ocean?”
“I’m sorry, Millie. We had to give you something—something to lay to rest.” Chase looks at me—his eyes pleading with me to understand. “They were ashes from a wood fire. Not human remains—not Mack. But he’s dead, Millie. One hundred percent. He’s dead.”
“George said my dad faked his own death. That Yusef Hadzic had started looking for me. Dad wanted to disappear so he would stop looking. If Yusef couldn’t find Dad, he couldn’t find me.”
Chase squints at me as he processes what I just said. “Tell me again who George is.”
“His name is George Chapman. He was my boss at the agency.”
His eyes pop wide open. “Chapman is his last name? George Chapman?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Tall, skinny guy? Black hair with glasses?”
“Yeah,” I say, confused. “Do you know him?”
Chase lets out a long sigh. “Millie. George Chapman was the agency liaison for the SEAL teams when your dad and I were active.”
“What do you mean? Like after Dad died? I don’t think George knew him.”
“He knew him. Really well. He was like that Raine woman is to Mason and his team. He worked with us daily.”
“I’ve talked to George about Dad a lot. He’s never once told me he knew him. That can’t be right.”
Chase stares straight ahead for a few minutes and then turns slowly to look at me. “Millie. Call Mason and get him over here. There’s something happening that I don’t like. We need him in on this conversation.”
“Do you think Dad is alive?” I say, my eyes starting to tear up again.
Chase squeezes my feet. “He’s not alive. I don’t know what George is playing at here, but Mack isn’t alive. I’m sorry, sweetie. Call Mason. Okay?”
Chapter Thirteen
Mason
San Diego, California
2020
It’s been three hours since Millie left to go jogging. I’m about to go out of my mind. I haven’t heard from her. I haven’t called her. I’m trying to be patient. I’m trying not to worry. But three hours is enough to test anyone’s limits, and I’m not anyone. I learned in training that any deviation from the norm—even a small one—is reason for concern. Millie’s never gone more than an hour when she jogs. I’m just about to track her phone when my phone rings. It’s her. The worst-case scenarios run through my head as I answer it.
“Millie,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Hey. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry I’ve been gone so long.” Her voice sounds shaky. “I’m at Chase’s. Will you come over here?”
“I’ll be there in two minutes,” I say as I grab my car keys. I’m already out the front door before she can reply.
“Mase, I’m okay. Really.” I can tell she’s starting to cry.
“I know you are, babe. I’m almost there. I’m already on the freeway. Stay on the phone.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but I can hear her breathing. Honestly, that’s enough for me right now.
I make it to Chase’s in record time and find her pacing on his driveway with the phone still to her ear. I jump out of the car and run to hug her. She’s shaking. I push her back a little bit to look at her. She’s wearing one of Chase’s big SEAL sweatshirts.
“Mills, what’s going on?” I say cautiously. “I’m worried about you.”
“Let’s go inside. Chase wants to be in on the conversation, too.”
I grab her by the arm and turn her to look at me. “Are you and Chase,” I say, stumbling over my words, “together?”
The mere thought of it makes me want to kill someone—preferably Chase. I know in my heart it’s not true, but here she stands in only his sweatshirt—not wearing anything she left the house in this morning. She’s barefooted and her hair is that messy wild that only happens after she’s been in bed.
It takes her a second to register what I said. “No. Mase. No. God no. It’s about my dad. Just come inside.”
She takes my hand and leads me inside. I see Chase sitting in his recliner, looking like someone sucked every bit of air out of his body. There are broken pieces of glass all over the floor, and as I get closer, I see almonds mixed in with the glass.
“What happened here?” I say, pulling back on Millie’s hand, so she won’t cut her feet.
“I dropped a jar of almonds.”
She lets go of my hand and tip toes around the glass and over to the couch.
“Is someone going to clean this up?” I’m so confused right now. Chase looks like he’s going to pass out. Millie is crawling back into the spot where it looks like she’s been sleeping—the pillows are fluffed up behind her and a blanket on top of her.
I walk straight through the mess—my flip-flops crunching through the debris—and plop down on the couch. Millie and Chase stare at each other. I’m getting nervous again.
“Someone say something!” My voice finally mirrors the anger that’s taken over my body. “Now!”
“The agency thinks my dad could still be alive,” Millie blurts out and then sinks under the blanket. All I can see is the top of her head. I turn to look at Chase.
“Don’t look at me, man,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve told her they’re completely full of shit.”
I turn back around to Millie, who’s still hiding under the blanket. “Millie. Look at me.” She looks up slowly. “Your dad is not alive. And I didn’t hear your boss say that when he was at the house.”
“I met with him after he left the house. I wasn’t going jogging. He had more to tell me.”
“Millie,” I say, frustrated, “come on. I thought we were past you hiding stuff from me. You promised.”
“He wasn’t going to tell me everything with you there, so I met with him separately. And I’m telling you now.”
“Tell me everything.” I slump down on the couch, resting my head on the back and closing my eyes. I need to mentally prepare for this.
“George says Dad faked his own death to prevent my family from finding me. The Azayiz woman he was talking about this morning—my great-aunt—asked the agency to help him disappear after she found out Yusef Hadzic was looking for me. The agency thinks she might know where Dad is. And now she’s missing.”
“Millie,” I say, opening my eyes, “that’s a lot of bullshit. I know you want it to be true, but this George guy is trying to manipulate you into coming back. He knows if you have any hope your dad is still alive, you will stop at nothing to find him. He just wants you back working for him. That was pretty obvious this morning.”
“Exactly what I said,” Chase chimes in from across the room. “One weird thing, though. I just found out this George is the same George who was the agency strap to our team. He knew Mack really well. He never told Millie that.”
My muscles start to tense up quickly. I look at Millie. “That just means he’s been manipulating you for years instead of hours.”
Millie tilts her head and raises her eyebrows—her warning look before she’s about to get pissed about something. I saw it many times on our first mission together. She turns from me to Chase.
“George told me something else,” she says slowly. “Azayiz is the informant credited with locating bin Laden. She was acquainted with his courier—the one they followed to his compound in Abbottabad. She knew his family growing up. They were both Pashtun from around where the FATA is now. She told the agency the courier worked for bin Laden. It’s what eventually led to the raid.”
Chase stops breathing. I immediately know from the look in his eyes that his team was part of the UBL mission. For their own safety, the identities of those operators have been a closely held secret—even from those of us on the teams. But looking at him now, there’s no doubt in my mind that he was there—which likely means Millie’s dad was there, too.
Chase’s eyes narrow. “What else did he tell you, Millie?”
“That Dad was on the UBL mission, too.”
Before she can say anything more, Chase stands up abruptly.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, suddenly looking like he’s back at the lead of his team. “Is George still in town, Millie?’
“No. He was leaving for the airport when he left me. He’s probably on his way back to DC by now. He’s hoping I will join him tomorrow.”
“If you go, I’m going with you,” I say.
“Nope. Nope,” Chase says. “You’re staying here for now. You have a job, and BUD/S is going into Hell Week. You can’t go AWOL. And besides, this is between George and me. I’ve got a lot I need to say to him, and it’s not going to be pretty.”
“If she’s going to Pakistan,” I say tensely to Chase, “I’m going with her.”
“No one is going to Pakistan. Millie and I will go to DC tomorrow and have it out with George. We’ll call you when we know more. Like we both said, this is just some bullshit fantasy to get her to rejoin the agency. No one is going to Pakistan.”
“No. There’s no way I’m staying here. Culver wants me to take back the lead of my team. I’ll do that if I have to, but I’m not carrying on like nothing is happening.”
“Mase,” Millie says as she reaches for my hand, “I don’t even know if I’m going to get to Virginia Beach. I might only be in DC for a few days and then back here. If you go, you’re in for three or four months at least. Right?”
“Yeah, but it sounds like this one is going to get pushed through. One of the teams is going to be attached to this mission. I’d rather it be my team, with me at the lead.”
“Yeah, but even if that’s the case, there’s no way Culver is going to assign your team. He knows about us,” Millie says. “It’s a huge professional conflict of interest.”
“Millie. If you’re going to Pakistan, I’m going with you. Not negotiable. I’ll get Culver to agree to it.”
“Honestly, I think he would prefer Mason and his team. They’ve worked with you already. And as far as your relationship goes, it’s not like you’re the first agency liaison to be sleeping with one of the operators,” Chase says. He quickly adds, “Not that you two are just sleeping together, but you know what I mean.”
“Mase,” Millie says, “please give us twenty-four hours before you commit to four months. Okay? We’ll call you tomorrow night. Nothing is going to happen in a day.”
Chapter Fourteen
Virginia Beach, Virginia
July 27, 2011
The second Mack walked into his office, George knew his day was going to get complicated. In the two years George had been the CIA liaison to the SEAL teams in Virginia Beach, Mack hadn’t said two words to him—much less actively sought him out. But now Mack was sitting across the desk—his massive arms crossed rigidly in front of him.
“Mack,” George said cautiously, “is there something I can do for you?’
Mack didn’t say anything. He just sat there—his eyes fixed on George in a cold, unblinking stare. George began to shift uncomfortably in his chair.
“Mack,” he tried again, “is there something wrong?”
“I need to disappear for a while,” Mack said gruffly.
George’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Disappear. You know what disappear means. Don’t you do stuff like that? The agency. Can’t you make people disappear?”
George slowly reached for his phone. “Maybe we should get Chase in here. I think your team leader should be involved in this conversation.”
“Put the phone down or you’re going to lose that hand.”
George dropped the phone immediately. Mack’s face had turned from merely serious to downright deadly.
“Let’s back up,” George said slowly. “Why do you need to disappear?’
“Do you know who Sayid Custovic is?”
“Of course I know who he is, Mack. He’s one of the most-wanted terrorists in the world.”
“He’s also my daughter’s uncle.”
George froze. “What do you mean he’s your daughter’s uncle?” he said carefully.
“Uncle. Do you not know what that means either?” Mack pushed his arms aggressively across George’s desk. “I hooked up with a Bosnian woman when we were deployed there in the nineties. Her
name was Nejra Custovic. She was Sayid’s sister. She had my baby. After she died, I got the baby. My daughter is Sayid’s niece. You understand now?”
George tried to loosen his grip on the arms of his chair. “Mack. What are you talking about? This sounds crazy. Are you sure? Does anyone else know?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Only a few people know. A few of Nejra’s friends and family helped me get Millie out of Bosnia. I’m not going to go into how all that happened, but no one has ever tried to contact me or her in the sixteen years since I took her—until last night.” Mack slammed his back against his chair, causing it to crash noisily into the wall.
“What happened last night?” George started shifting in his chair again.
“I had a visitor. One of Nejra’s friends from Bosnia. He told me Sayid’s lieutenant, Yusef Hadzic, was looking for me—for Millie.”
“Who’s the friend?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not involved in anything illegal. He came here just to warn me.”
George took an extended breath and exhaled it forcefully through his mouth. “Mack. I’m not sure what you want me to do here. The agency doesn’t really hide U.S. citizens. That’s more of an FBI thing. And then it’s really only for federal witnesses.”
“Do you know who Azayiz Custovic is? The agency has her in protective custody in Pakistan. She’s Millie’s aunt. She sent the friend to me last night. Ask her if I’m telling you the truth.”
George’s eyes widened as he pushed his chair away from the desk. “Who told you we have Azayiz Custovic in protective custody? You’re wading into really dangerous waters right now. I think maybe you should quit talking.”
“Call your bosses. Tell them what I said. Tell them I know about Azayiz. The only thing that matters to me right now is protecting Millie. I will die to protect her. Or disappear. Or go to jail. Whatever it takes. I need for you to help me get them off Millie’s trail.”
The Only Reason: A Novel (Trident Trilogy: Book Two) Page 7
