The Forgotten Soldier

by Brad Taylor

  He cut into the diatribe on the phone, saying, “Pike, forgive me. Find the key.”

  And started his car.

  * * *

  Carly portrayed calm on the outside, but felt the anxiety she always did on a source meet, where she never really knew the motivations of the men she was courting. The driver appeared normal enough, but the other passenger—introduced as Khalid—was a bundle of energy with piercing eyes, like a bird of prey constantly scanning, constantly on the hunt.

  She said, “We’ll be following about a minute behind. You remember that town about fifteen kilometers back on Highway 48? We’ll be stopping at a restaurant there.”

  Khalid said, “Okay. You ride up front. Show him the way.”

  She moved to the passenger’s door, keeping one eye on him. She opened it, then saw him turn. She focused on his line of sight and saw a small Fiat screaming across the parking lot. She was about to sit down when she recognized the man behind the wheel.

  Guy George.

  There could be only one reason he was coming: Targets.

  She screamed, “Get in the car, get in the car!”

  His door half-open, Khalid whirled around, facing the vehicle. The other Arab jumped up on the curb, moving toward the stairs. Carly slid into the seat, slamming the door. Guy exploded from the car, disregarding the Arabs and running right at her, shouting at her to get out.

  His eyes were bloodshot and wild, and she realized Pike was right. He’d crossed over. She locked the door. Khalid jumped on Guy’s back as he came by, but he ignored the attack, staggering forward. Guy bashed the window with his elbow, spraying Carly with glass.

  She raised her arms and Guy ripped at the door locks, screaming, “Get the fuck out of the car! It’s going to blow!”

  Khalid wrapped his arms around Guy’s neck, and Guy whirled backward, slamming Khalid into the body of the Audi and causing him to drop.

  His words sank in. Carly frantically fought the door handle, managing to get it to pop open. Guy kicked the edge, swinging it wide, grabbing her by the hair and shirt and jerking her forcefully out, flinging her body to the ground.

  Khalid stood up, arms raised, snarling, but Guy ignored him, instead jumping onto the passenger seat until his body covered it. Khalid charged, and the seat exploded in a blinding flash, throwing Khalid backward.

  Carly covered her head, pieces of glass and bits of metal raining around her. She heard nothing but ringing in her ears. She rolled over and saw Guy slide out of the car, his body black and red. He hit the pavement and she saw his arm rise up.

  He was alive.

  She crawled to him, surveying the carnage, not knowing where to even begin because of his massive wounds. Blood was everywhere. His jaw was askew, white bone lancing out of red flesh. His abdomen was ripped open, internal organs spilling out onto the pavement.

  He grabbed her hand, his eyes fluttering.

  Seconds later, she saw his soul flee his body.

  71

  The mood inside the Oval Office was somber and hushed, without the usual back-and-forth talking among the principals committee of the Oversight Council. All waited on Colonel Kurt Hale to continue.

  He clicked a slide, showing the Audi twisted open like a tuna can. “Sergeant Major Guy George died of his wounds. Pike arrived shortly after the explosion and provided immediate damage control. Due to the sensitive and urgent nature of the discussions between Haider al-Attiya and Secretary Billings, I had briefed Pike on the current meeting with Secretary Billings and deployed him immediately to do what he could. He knew about CIA case officer involvement, and he evacuated Carly Ramirez for cover purposes.”

  Kerry Bostwick, the director of the CIA, said, “I appreciate that. Her being there would have only complicated things with the authorities.”

  Alexander Palmer said, “Other injuries? Was Sergeant Major George the only one hit?”

  “Haider’s friend, a man introduced as Khalid, apparently received a slight cut to his forehead, but he and the other man fled the scene, refusing treatment.”

  President Warren said, “And our exposure?”

  Kurt knew that question was coming and had spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours mitigating disaster. “So far, we are okay, but it’s tenuous. The press is calling it an attack against the United States secretary of state, since he’d left there seconds before. The problem is that the IED was embedded in an Audi rented by Haider al-Attiya.”

  “So he’s going to be linked? Charged with this?”

  “Not with some luck. I had the Taskforce computer network operations cell manipulate the rental data for that car—basically erase it. And we did it messily, so they’d know it was hacked, trying to make it look like it was preplanned. The strike wasn’t a suicide attack, so we hope it’ll look like someone covering his tracks. The rental agency is a high-end one, not like a Hertz. You arrange your car, and it’s delivered to you. This vehicle was delivered to the Athenaeum Hotel as a two-package deal for two different customers, with both given to the valet. There is a risk that someone in the chain will remember who that car was for, but Haider al-Attiya was never physically seen or contacted, and there are now no physical or virtual records. The only man the valet saw was the driver that Carly met, after the car was delivered. It’s not perfect, but there’s enough smoke to diffuse things.”

  President Warren said, “That does sound a bit tenuous.”

  “Best we can do, but we expect the Greeks will have a preconceived notion of where to look for villains, and it’ll probably be along local lines. It won’t be with the Qatar Investment Authority if they want to keep the money flowing. There are a couple of loose points, though.”

  “What?”

  Kurt said, “Carly, for one. She’s not a risk, but I took the liberty to have Pike read her onto the program. She’s made a bunch of leaps in her head, I’m sure, and most probably aren’t correct. She’s damn near become a member of the Taskforce anyway with her help, and honestly she’s pretty good at what she does.”

  In a small bit of humor, Kerry said, “Always cherry-picking my talent. I can see where this is going.”

  Kurt said, “Just trying to plug the holes.”

  Kerry looked at President Warren. “Sir?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Read her on, but also have her sign the usual nondisclosures.”

  “The read-on’s complete. The nondisclosures will have to wait. Pike doesn’t travel with them.”

  The president waved his hand, indicating that was minutia. “What else?”

  “Haider al-Attiya and his cohorts. They need to be told to shut the hell up and get out of the country. I’m assuming Billings has control of them, correct?”

  Palmer said, “Yeah, he didn’t even realize the attack had occurred until way later. His meeting went according to plan. Haider’s agreed to go to Oslo and has the timeline. There were some issues with visas, but Billings says he can handle it.”

  Kurt said, “Okay, then, let him press about how he’s going out on a limb to protect them, then put a gag on them. Cover their tracks and get them out of Greece. I don’t care what they think they know, Billings needs to shut them down.”

  He paused for effect, then said, “Unless you want to throw Haider and his guys to the wolves. That would save me some Alpha mission work with Pike. We could let the Greek authorities tear those assholes apart. They’ll find the terrorist connections and use Guy George’s attack to hang ’em as an assault against the secretary of state. But I doubt Billings will go along with that.”

  Palmer said, “You still think they’ve got something to do with Guy’s brother’s death? After how crazy Guy acted?”

  “I can’t prove anything at this stage, but yes. I actually think it’s more than that. What I know is that a man who was one of the most highly trained terrorist hunters on the planet believed it, even if he
went rogue to prove it, and—besides that new driver—all of those assholes are on a target package from Afghanistan.”

  Palmer said, “Well, we’ll go with your first option. We can’t have them talking about rogue American super ninjas trying to kill them under a Greek interrogation.”

  Kurt said, “Why would they talk about that? They have no idea. I mean, Billings never said anything about Guy to his friends, right?”

  President Warren raised his hand and said, “We’re not going to revisit that. I talked to Billings and he denied telling Haider anything. That’s enough for me. And that means it’s enough for you. Understood?”

  Kurt bit back a retort, only saying, “Yes, sir.”

  Alexander Palmer said, “And we need to discuss the Alpha authority Pike was given. With Guy George dead, there’s no reason to continue pursuing it.”

  Kurt said, “What are you talking about? Nothing’s changed with Haider al-Attiya. Yeah, Billings can run his little ego boost in Oslo, but our exploration is based on evidence of future planning. Not on bringing in Guy George.”

  He went from face to face, and felt a sickening realization. He said, “Right?” He looked at the president and said, “Right, sir? You didn’t give me Alpha as a ploy, did you? Tell me you didn’t make me lie to Pike.”

  President Warren said, “No, of course not, but all operations are predicated on the environment. We’re going to need to evaluate the current atmosphere within Greece and perhaps revisit Alpha at a later date. Those Arabs are not an imminent threat worth forcing potential compromise. We’ve done enough in Greece.”

  “Sir, that’s not true. Pike has nothing at all to do with any of this. He’s not involved in the attack or any of Billings’s meetings. He’s not tied into anything, and not a risk of compromise.”

  “Kurt, enough. We’ll make a decision at the Oversight Council meeting in two days. I’m not going to use this forum for something that should be an Oversight Council discussion.”

  Kurt remained quiet, understanding the intent, but not wanting it voiced out loud. Saving himself an out.

  President Warren continued, “But speaking of Guy, where do we stand with him?”

  “Innocent bystander caught in the blast. Nothing more. We’re getting him home using the alias he had in Greece. Turned out to be a Ranger Battalion buddy that died in Iraq. When he gets here, we’ll switch him back. His parents will learn of the death as a training accident.”

  President Warren said, “How many other siblings did he have?”

  “None. Both sons are dead.”

  President Warren looked at the secretary of defense and said, “I want something done for the family from you. Something personal. They’ve lost two sons in the span of a month. We can’t tell them about Guy’s contributions, but I want his death to mean something.”

  Kurt Hale appreciated the sentiment, but not in the way President Warren intended.

  Guy’s death will most definitely mean something.

  72

  I closed the laptop lid and said, “So now you know who we are. What we do.”

  Carly said nothing, glancing at Jennifer, then at me. I said, “You’ll have to sign some nondisclosure statements for the bean counters, but I don’t have them here.”

  She finally spoke. “I’ve done some classified activities in my time, but this is beyond belief. I’m . . . sorry I agreed to be read on. I don’t want to know about this.”

  I laughed and said, “Too late for that.”

  She said, “Pike . . . this is illegal. Signing a nondisclosure or building a snazzy briefing makes it look official, like any other covert action, but it’s not.” She looked at Jennifer and said, “Is this what you knew before you agreed to join?”

  Jennifer said, “No. Not really. Pike sort of tricked me into joining based on our cover organization. I’d get to do scientific research, and occasionally my company would be used to enhance United States security. I joined for him, but I stayed for the mission.”

  I said, “Oh, bullshit. She pretends to be above it all, but you saw her in the park. She loves this shit. Yes, it’s illegal, but we control the outcome. It’s kept small, and we hire only the best.”

  Carly’s face clouded over and she said, “You mean like Guy.”

  I said, “Yes. Like Guy.”

  A cycle of darkness was now between us and the death of Guy George. The aftermath had been brutal, because we had failed. It was something that would hang over my head until I laid it down for the final time.

  Driving in our rental van, all of us kitted out for a hostile takedown like we were going against an imminent threat, we had planned on the move. Nobody wanted to escalate into lethal force, and we’d loaded down with nonlethal options. Guy had stated he’d start shooting the minute he saw us, but I didn’t think that would be the case. At least I hoped it wouldn’t be.

  After failing to get Carly to answer her phone, I’d decided to mitigate the risk by reaching out to Guy directly. I’d had the Taskforce spoof Carly’s number, and was talking to him on the phone when we rounded the final mountain bend to Delphi. I could see the parking spots about a mile ahead, the thin road threading the side of a ridgeline and bulging out in front of the archeological site.

  During the conversation, I was growing confident that Guy would stand down. I could hear it in his voice. Then, the discussion went south, his final words chilling. We were close enough to see the explosion, and arrived within a minute of its going off, the staff of the museum and random tourists just starting to react.

  We pulled up in a rush, the man I’d fought in the park passing by, running the other way and looking back, a cut over his left eye bleeding freely. We leapt out, but there was nothing to be done. Carly was cradling Guy’s body, and he was destroyed. Carly was covered in blood, and I wasn’t sure if it was hers or Guy’s. The place turned into chaos, like an anthill kicked over, with people screaming and running back and forth.

  Without words, the team deployed into a security perimeter and Brett, our designated medic, ran to the side of the car. He took one look at Guy and turned to Carly, breaking her away. He found her to be physically okay, and we loaded her into the van. Knuckles had the presence of mind to scoop up a pistol lying on the ground next to Guy’s body, but that was all we could recover. We drove off, masked by the confusion.

  Leaving Guy’s body behind.

  I’d called the Taskforce immediately, giving them a SITREP and passing the pictures of the vehicle Guy had destroyed. I’d then debriefed Carly on the drive back, and learned that Guy had sacrificed himself to save her.

  In the end, I’d been right. Someone was going to die at Guy’s hands, and there hadn’t been a damn thing I could do to stop it.

  Kurt had called back within five minutes, and I walked him through everything I knew. The conversation was short and clinical, like describing a failed science experiment instead of the death of someone we both considered family. It ended with him telling me to sterilize Guy’s hotel room and to read on Carly, getting her under control.

  Using Guy’s historical trace, I’d ordered Knuckles and Nick to track down his hotel room, sterilize it, then maintain eyes on for a night to see who else showed up. I decided reading on Carly to our operations could wait. She had been through a significant event, and her mental state took priority.

  I’d let her call in to work, going secure on her phone and telling her boss what had occurred. Needless to say, it was a long conversation, the station having already heard of the incident, and losing their mind over the implications. When she’d hung up, she told me Secretary Billings was fine and that the two men from the museum had somehow linked up with him. Her voice sounded like it was business as usual, but her eyes were hollow. I refused to let her leave.

  We’d spent the night talking, just letting her get her feelings out. Brett surreptitiously monitored her, with Jen
nifer and I providing a sounding board. At one point, she’d demanded to know what we were about. I’d told her to wait, that it wasn’t worth the effort now. All we needed to discuss was Guy. And Decoy.

  Eventually, Brett had given her a sedative, and I’d given her my bed. I sent Jennifer to Nick’s room, and I slept on the couch.

  In the morning, she had seemed much more herself, stating she had to get back to work—reports to write, people to talk to—and I knew I couldn’t stop her with just my incredible persona, but I had a briefing that might.

  And, boy, did it ever.

  She stared at my laptop screen and said, “Who else knows about the Taskforce?”

  “That’s a little tricky. We have plenty of shell companies and cover organizations—doctors, boat drivers, pilots, that sort of thing—but very few are read on to the whole program. They know they’re doing something classified for the government, but they’re either working under a cover within a cover or are just doing it blindly because it’s helping out national security.”

  I saw her face and said, “Don’t look like you’re shocked. You do the same damn thing. The Oversight Council, of course, knows all, as do the Operators. And now you.”

  She said, “Why are you telling me this? I really don’t want to know. This thing is a gross violation of everything I’ve ever learned. It’s exactly what we laugh about when we hear the conspiracies about the CIA. Do you know how many congressional committees I’ve had to testify in front of on things that were benign? This would cause a complete meltdown. The destruction of the presidential administration.”

  “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. That’s why Guy going rogue was so important.”

  “But why me? If nobody else knows about it?”

  “Because of your position and your support on past operations. You had to know we were something different when you saw Decoy and Knuckles in action in Peru. We’ve read on a few others who have been involved in operations unwittingly.”