by J. T. Patten
He and Draeger got along well, being more intellectuals than hard men. Draeger had the formal ex-military pedigree but rarely acted like a former soldier. He was amazing at his work, but horrible on a team.
In the mixed presence of operators and analysts, Draeger and Havens fit somewhere in the middle, which most of the time meant they didn’t fit in with either circle. Like their status amongst peers, they were grey men. Like their jobs and their covers, their color of grey was blacker than coal.
While capable of extreme violence, both men would prefer a good conversation to an operational takedown. At least on most days. They preferred the hunt over the capture, the game and chase over the kill. After a surviving a close scrape in Iran together, Draeger and Havens had the makings of a deep friendship, but for reasons unclear to Sean, Prescott Draeger preferred to keep his friend at arm’s length. He pushed him away even more after Iran. Havens wondered at the time if Draeger wanted more of a full-time friend. Not one that was shared with a family.
They greeted one another with the requisite bro hug and started the short walk to a nearby restaurant.
“So Sean, I know you’ve already got a lot on your mind right now, but I was doing some thinking on the plane about you losing your job and your current situation.”
“That makes two of us.”
Draeger smiled and nodded in affirmation of the obvious. “Right, well what exactly would be an ideal situation for you?”
“Yeah, I have actually been giving a lot of thought to that and can’t come up with anything realistic given my location and constraints with Maggie’s needs. A perfect world would be a blend of what I have been doing. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you too much about that.”
“Look Sean, I have a pretty good idea that you are not trading bonds. We both know who we are and what we do. So, if I understand you correctly, you would do some type of hybrid operational intel collection or support work domestically that would give you flexibility for Maggie?”
“That’s about it, but not even domestically. It really would need to be here. I know that the FBI or some relic of CIFA, maybe Secret Service or even the DEA may have something, but I don’t know where to start and don’t think I would have the flexibility with a government job.”
“Yeah, that is a bitch. I don’t think anything would give that type of freedom given your limited skill set outside of your niche. Can’t see anything that would turn you loose on Chicago. You’d burn the damn city down.”
“I’d be happy to burn some of this city down. That whole personal side of everything just makes me want to get in and take out the trash. Never thought I’d say it, but I feel like those spec ops t-shirts that say ‘Kill ‘em all and let God sort them out.’”
“Have you looked on Monster.com for anything in Chicago that says killer for hire?” Draeger elbowed Havens in jest as they walked the city streets.
“Nah, that’s on Craigslist now,” Sean joked back. “There’s gotta be a Homeland Security program or something out there. Turn right up here on Michigan.”
“Now that I think of it, Sean, there may be. I don’t know much about it but may know a guy who is in the city here doing work for them. Too bad I don’t have more time to find out for you.”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s called Silver Star. They have a Chicago office.”
“Silver Star? I think they were part of the funding for Christina’s funeral.”
“Oh, so you have heard of them before?”
“No, but they offered to take care of everything. I didn’t look into them. I figured there was some involvement with my employer and I knew not to ask too many questions.”
“Alright, well you may be closer than I am to this.”
“I don’t have a contact or anything. But I’m not sure I want to do a USO-type thing. It might be a bit of a stretch.”
“Well that is what I thought when I first heard of it, but the guy I know isn’t doing Honor Flights and Welcome Home events. Let me make a call. How about I have him call you direct. Can I give him your personal mobile?”
“Sure. Just have him leave me a number to call back if I have it off or miss it in the hospital. They have all these no cell phone signs up in the wing. I need to change out my phone number again but I can wait until we at least speak.”
“Will do. Let’s see if there is anything to this. See, things are looking a bit brighter anyway. I’m glad you prompted me to think of this. I had totally forgotten about Silver Star.”
“I’m telling you, man, we would be dangerous if we ever worked together again.”
Draeger put his arm around Havens’ shoulder as he opened the door to Ditka’s. “I agree. We should partner up sometime. We’d sure clean up a lot of dirt.”
“Shit, we’d probably get ourselves arrested.”
Draeger took in the sports memorabilia with little personal interest. “We’d just have to be careful. Do they have ribs here?”
“Awesome ribs. Awesome pork chops. Good red wine for you. Just don’t say Da Bears. Hate that.”
“Daaa…”
“Don’t make me kick your ass, Pres. Glad you called.”
“Two please, somewhere in the back kind of away from people. Need to discuss a presentation for the morning.”
“Come this way gentleman.” The brunette hostess, hardly in her twenties, motioned her guests to follow.
“Absolutely,” said Draeger fixated on the young hostess’ firm buttocks. “You have a very nice voice.”
“Is that the best you’ve got?” The hostess turned around with an appreciative smile to Draeger who rapidly looked up. “Thank you, no one has ever said that to me before.”
Draeger, his brow aggressively turned down, eyes assessing like a predator to prey, wet his lips with a subconscious shallow lick. I could have you in my room tonight and kick you out before going to sleep.
“Is this table alright, gentlemen?”
“Perfect,” they said in unison.
“Your waitress will be with you momentarily.” She handed each man their menu, smiling at Draeger as she released the menu. He noticed a small-stoned engagement ring on her left hand.
Bitch. And marrying some poor sorry ass loser. I could break him. Maybe I should so you can learn everything that comes so easy to you can be taken away so fast. Whore.
Stuffed from food and wine, the two men walked a block south on Michigan Avenue before Draeger hailed a cab back to his hotel. The two parted with a handshake and loose embrace as Havens thanked his friend.
“Anything to help, buddy. I will call my guy and see if there is anything there.”
“Sounds good. Who should I expect to call? Do you have a name?”
“Let me see if it is cool first. You know how it is.”
“Indeed I do. Take care and stay in touch.”
“I’ll be close. By the way, you still keep in touch with Red, right?”
“Yeah, he was just asking about you, wanting to know if you were up for some soccer. Did you want his number?”
Draeger made his fingers into a gun gesture. “I got his number alright. Six in the six. Two in the head for good measure. Just seeing if you still stayed in touch. I know you were tight.”
“Should I worry that it will affect my candidacy?”
“No. What is between me and Red is between me and Red. It’s all good.”
“You know it was an act of a young adrenaline-driven pilgrim and not malicious, right?”
“We’ve gone through this before, Sean. It isn’t sour grapes. Red never respected me but we were always able to work together.”
On some things we agreed. Like how you would have been better off in the field with us instead of staying here with your family.
“He just never understood you, Pres. You are a bit of an onion. If you don’t like the smell after peeling the first layer, you stop peeling.”
“Thanks…I’ll be in touch, Sean.”
“I’ll tell Red you said
hi.”
“Tell him he is still number one,” as Draeger raised his middle finger.
Havens pulled out the cut cigar he had purchased in the bar for the walk back to the hospital. He struck the match preparing the tip and inhaled his much needed treat. Good to see another friendly face. Seems like Draeger is keeping it together a bit.
Draeger pulled out his mobile phone and typed a text to Harrison. GUD 2 GO. Draeger deleted the message, feeling more like a tween texter than experienced operator. He typed again. GREEN. Much better. Wonder if there will be any wounded antelopes drunk at the hotel bar by now. Have to check that out before trying to turn in. Can’t sleep anyway.
The reply came back from Harrison almost immediately. RGR. GUD2GO.
Draeger smiled seeing the GUD2GO that he had considered, immediately glad that he took the professional highroad and put away his phone. He looked out the cab window and marveled at the city. How he was going to enjoy turning it upside down. He glanced at the back of his driver’s head and then looked to read the name on the placard below. REZA SHIRAZIAN.
“Reza, huh? And where may I ask are you from?”
Draeger knew the answer before it came.
“I am longtime in Chicago.”
“But where were you originally?”
“Detroit.”
“And before that?”
“New York. You been to New York?”
“Yes, I have been to New York. Where were you born?”
“Why you like to know?”
“I’m just curious. I saw your name and knew a Reza once. I was curious as to where you were from, originally, where you were born.”
“Ah.”
“And?”
“I am Persian.”
There we go. “So you are from Iran.”
“Yes. You have been? I don’t think so maybe.”
“No, I don’t get out much.”
“So how long are you in Chicago?”
“I think I just decided that I will try to leave tonight.”
Of course you continue to haunt me. Why did I even ask? Persia, Iran, my personal Hell. Why won’t you let me sleep? Havens, you don’t even have half the training of our old teams. How can you possibly sleep with no trouble to your soul? Maybe now you can’t as your own horrors have come to roost. I’m just getting started.
Draeger continued to gaze out the cab window at tourists walking the streets. With a finger to the glass, he double-tapped each pedestrian in the head. Willing them all to die. Women and children first.
Sean exited from the elevator. He could still smell the smoke on his clothes despite the nice breeze outside. The halls were dimmed to let the patients rest. Visiting hours were over. Havens was an exception. He watched from afar as the orderly walked down the hall. When the orderly approached Maggie’s room, Havens noticed he slowed and started to turn his head. Assuming the orderly might be shifting to look behind him, Havens stepped back into the water fountain nook between the men’s and women’s bathrooms. Havens scanned to see if he could find anything with a reflection. He spotted a polished handle on the fire extinguisher box fixed to the wall. He could make out the orderly’s back, now turned to Havens. Havens emerged to see the orderly stepping into the room.
Havens rushed down the hall quickly and quietly taking long strides, his feet meeting the linoleum tiles briefly with the outsides of his soles. He wasn’t taking any more chances on the oddities occurring in his home world.
As he approached the room, the orderly quickly exited.
“Hey, what are you doing in there?” Havens demanded with an air of authority.
“Nothing,” the order said as he exited from the room, not even looking at Havens.
“Hey, wait. I am not done.” Havens reached for the orderly’s shoulder. When Havens’ right hand touched the right shoulder of the orderly, the man spun around and already had Havens’ hand in a pressure lock twisting at the joint and simultaneously squeezed pressure points in order to incapacitate Havens.
The offset size of the large orderly and Havens’ slightly smaller frame provided an opening. Havens flowed with the movement increasing its direction. Ducking and stepping in through the twist of arms Havens got behind the orderly grabbing a hold of the man’s larynx.
“Now let’s try that again.”
The orderly managed to communicate through a suppressed airway, “Just seeing if she was doing any better.”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“I just do; it’s my job.”
“That’s not your job. That’s for the nurses and doctors.”
“Sir, it’s my job. I am supposed to protect her.”
“What? From who? Who are you?”
“Let go and I will tell you.”
“Tell me and I may let go.”
“Sir, I can take you out. Please let go before I make you let me go.”
“If you can take me why am I holding your throat?”
“I am supposed to keep an eye on you too. Make sure you were safe.”
Guardedly, Havens released the orderly.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Whittington.”
“And Mr. Whittington, why are you the fairy godmother orderly assigned to watch me and my daughter?”
“Because I work for someone with your interests in mind, given your prior employment in government.”
“Are you government?”
“Not exactly. I am a contractor.”
Everybody is a contractor these days.
“Why are you wearing an orderly uniform and badge?”
“So I fit in.”
“And what if you had to perform medical duties?”
“I do. I was Special Forces 18-Delta. I’m a trained medic.”
“So what other things can you do, Mr. Whittington. Brain surgery, banking?”
“I paid for your wife’s funeral arrangements on orders from my boss.”
“OK, Delta, you’ve got my attention.”
Two cups of coffee later, Havens had learned all about Whittington’s deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. He hadn’t noticed the burns on Whittington’s arms until his sleeves were rolled up. Whittington had been medically discharged from the Army with a broken vertebra and severe burns to his upper arms and torso from wounds received in battle. Due to his limited physical abilities, Whittington was no longer eligible for service but had been identified by the local Silver Star chapter as a viable candidate for their Family Protection Program.
For the past year, while undergoing rehabilitation and therapy, Whittington was assigned various tasks to protect or assist the families of servicemen who were overseas. Initially, Whittington assisted some wives who needed to go to the police for various harassment claims or instances of neighborhood or family abuse cases. In most cases he assisted spouses who were negligent in their parental duties due to situations that had occurred while the other spouse was deployed overseas.
“Why haven’t I heard of this program before?”
Whittington looked at his watch and downed his coffee. “You wouldn’t have unless you needed assistance. The process is this: if a soldier overseas is having personal problems during his or her deployment due to an external issue affecting their family back home, they let their superior officer know. The superior officer can pass that information on to a readiness and deployment entity that then makes a judgment call and triage evaluation. If a local military support group can handle it, for example their house burned down, someone lost a job, or their house was going into foreclosure, the ‘ticket,’ as it were, doesn’t escalate.”
Havens nodded in understanding.
“Now let’s say a soldier is deployed, his wife is back home and her brother or the neighbor is beating on her or harassing her but the authorities have not been called or are not willing to do anything, we can act as an advocate. If something happens that is not to a high enough level that cops would get called for 911, we can help. Like, perhaps we escort the woman
home from work, check out her house when she arrives, and make sure no one’s there waiting for her. That sort of stuff.”
Havens sat quietly looking at his cup of coffee. “Sure could have used you guys.”
“Well, actually we were involved. See, you were not technically government or military, so we had to jump through hoops from an internal billing process standpoint. I know that sounds horrible, but that is what went down. When your daughter was threatened, she actually found us on Facebook. She said her father was in the military or government but we couldn’t find your records.”
“I see.”
“Later when we got the authorization, we were too late. But in this case, it likely would have been handled by law enforcement anyway since they were already involved. We could have made an introduction to assist in an augmented role to the police though. I suspect that is why we felt compelled to pay for the arrangements.”
“Who pays for all of this?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it is a blend of DoD funds and private estate and corporate donations. It’s very low key so it doesn’t become a requested service or taken advantage of. Also it gives us some latitude as to how we think a situation should be handled. We prefer to dispatch ourselves for the right situations. It also seems to be favoring those service members of the special operations community.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, it isn’t very politically correct, but some feel that general purpose forces may already be inclined to have some domestic issues based on studies of demographics, economics, social status, education…”
“Alright, I got your legal disclaimer. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Bottom line, for the soldiers the United States has already invested so much time and money into training, this is a benefit designed so elite forces can focus on the matter at hand as opposed to matters at home. We have a motto, ‘We Have Their 6,” which means the family’s back. We know our brothers have each other’s backs in the field.”
“This is amazing. So why are you still here?”