by Tom Clancy
“I agree,” said the man in uniform. He looked at me. “I am Shafiq, the new police chief here in Senjaray.”
Harruck spun around, his eyes now glassy, his cheeks turning red. “Mitchell, get your people back to the base. We’ll take over from here. I’ll work this out with Captain Warris.”
“Yes, sir.”
He blinked hard, coughed, then looked at me, as though to say, No argument?
But then, as I ascended the ladder, he threw a verbal punch that I could not ignore: “I’ll find out why the minesweepers were here, Mitchell.”
“Look around. Kundi’s been letting the Taliban store weapons. They figured we wouldn’t look here, right out in the open—unless of course we wanted to drill a well. And that’s why the old man got so bent out of shape. He was protecting his little cache here.”
“He is right,” said Shafiq.
I gave Harruck a final look and climbed out, where I shouted for my men to rally back on our Hummer. Nolan had already removed a body bag from the truck, and he and Ramirez had just finished zipping up Beasley. They carried his body to the flatbed and eased it onboard.
The fires were still whipping in the breeze behind us, the scene now like an anthill that had been disturbed. Kundi was out near the hole, throwing his hands in the air, along with Burki, as Warris, Harruck, and the new police chief faced them.
Warris turned away from the group and looked at me, and for just a moment, I thought he longed to be in my boots, not having to deal with any of the crap.
But then, suddenly, he waved me over.
I looked over my shoulder, then back to him. Me?
He nodded.
Harruck turned around and cried, “Mitchell? We need you over here right now!”
I liked how he called me Mitchell around everyone else.
“You wanna just take off ?” Ramirez asked me. “Screw them all. Screw all these assholes.”
“No. You guys take Beasley back. Then get to the hospital and get everybody else checked out. If these idiots want to talk to me, then they’d better strap in and get ready for the ride . . .”
I took a deep breath, winced over a shooting pain in my leg, and marched toward them.
THIRTEEN
I wanted to beat down at least three of the four men in front of me. I already saw them lying unconscious and bloody.
You have to give me some credit for my honesty.
The new police chief hadn’t earned my hatred yet.
Kundi and Burki were shouting at Harruck, pointing to the ground, and then gesturing back up to the foothills.
Shilmani was there and came over to me. “The guns belong to Kundi. He says he bought them from the Taliban.”
“Do you believe that?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is that you can’t take them away, but I know you will.”
I raised my chin to Harruck. “Well, he’ll have to confiscate them, and no one’s going to be happy about that.”
“He speaks English?” Harruck called out to me.
“Yes, he does. His name’s Shilmani. He works for Burki.”
“Then come over here and help me translate,” said Harruck. “They’re talking way too fast for me.”
“Do you really need me here?” I asked Harruck.
“Yeah, I do,” he said.
Behind us, the rifle squads had finished up with their extinguishers, and the pickup trucks and Hummer were still smoldering. I’d grown far too used to the stench of burning rubber.
While Harruck went back over to Kundi and the water man, with a tense Shilmani forced to go along, I pulled Warris aside. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I was telling you that if you think I’m going to filter my plans through you, you’re dreaming. Okay?”
“Looks like you’ve got some good plans here, too. Pissed off the locals. Got a whole sweeper team killed, one of your own guys killed.” He gasped. “A ll right, that was too far. Sorry . . .”
“Wow, when did you grow a pair?”
He puffed air. “The situation has changed. They brought me in here to clean up an old man’s mess. I’m hating it. I resent you for putting me in this situation. And every time I set eyes on you it’s an instant replay of that ass-chewing you gave me back at Robin Sage. I still hear about it to this day.”
I balled my hand into a fist and drew it back.
He sensed it coming. “Do it. Do us both a favor.”
“Mitchell?” cried Harruck.
He kept calling me by name in front of everyone, but who was I to argue at that point? They were going to dump it all on me anyway. I staggered over there like a drunk and didn’t realize I was favoring one leg until another pain needled up the hip and into my spine.
“Why were the minesweepers out here?”
I played dumb. “Uh, you told me you were going to find out.”
“They had specific orders to sweep the other part of the field.”
“Wish I could help you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I stood there, my gaze traveling a thousand miles away.
“Scott?”
I finally looked at him. “What?”
“I want an answer.”
“I don’t know why the sweepers were here. And I guess you can’t ask them. Maybe they got lost. Or maybe they wanted to check out this side of the field, too. Who knows . . .”
“You sent them here, didn’t you?”
“Guys, let’s get this under control,” said Warris.
Harruck looked at him, cursed, then told him to shut the hell up.
Warris recoiled, stunned.
“I need to be with my men,” I said, my tone growing even more sarcastic.
“And I need an answer,” snapped Harruck.
“All right, let’s cut to the chase, then,” I said. “I got a four-star behind me and my mission. And I was perfectly within my mission’s envelope when I ordered the field searched. I was defending my perimeter and protecting my men. The problem here is mission conflict. All three of us are doing exactly what we should be doing—which is why we’ve got a problem.”
“Why didn’t you notify me of what you did?” Harruck asked.
“I would have . . . eventually.”
He gave a slight snort. “Well, I got the entire United States Army supporting my mission, Scott. And it will take precedence.”
Kundi drifted over to me and raised his finger. “You went with Bronco. You talked to my father. You know the right thing to do now. These weapons belong to us. Don’t let anyone take them.”
“What’s he talking about?” Harruck asked.
“I don’t know. They smoke a lot of opium here. They forget things.”
“This isn’t over, Scott. It’s just begun.”
I winced in pain. The leg again. “I hear you.”
“I’ll get with you later,” said Harruck.
“So will I,” Warris added.
I made a face. “I’ll be at the hospital if you need me.”
I took a detour before getting treated. I went back to the comm center and called Gordon. I updated him and asked for anything he could dig up about Bronco and any connection the spook might have to Zahed and the technology industry. “I think he has something to do with the EMP knocking out our Cross-Coms—if it’s EMP at all.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, and oh, yeah, Warris tells me he’s in command.”
Gordon’s expression turned guilty. “Not exactly.”
“Good, then I’m exactly in command. Does that make sense to you, sir? Two officers, one in command, the other not exactly in command?”
“Mitchell, we knew how difficult this job could become. That’s why we picked you for it. And you’re the last guy on earth I thought would be bothered by the politics. Everyone’s a bad guy there.”
“Even me?”
He nearly smiled. “Even you.”
“And you still believe that Zahed is the target and I need to cap
ture or kill him?”
“Absolutely. Without any doubt.”
“And what will that change?”
“Say again?”
He’d heard me. He couldn’t believe I was asking. I sharpened my tone. “Sir, I asked what will capturing or killing Zahed change?”
“Yours is not to question why but to do or die, soldier.”
“Well, if we get him, then that’s one less terrorist here, right? Oh, I forgot, we don’t have confirmation that he’s actually a terrorist.”
“He’s scum. You said so yourself.”
“I did. But frankly, sir, there are too many people attempting to undermine my mission. I’m losing confidence in my ability to complete it and I’m concerned about our contribution to the overall effort here.”
“What the hell is that?” he cried. “The Ghosts fear no one! Don’t throw that crap at me. You will complete your mission—but if you’re telling me right now you want out, I’ll relieve you on the spot and give it to Warris.”
“He’s a yes man for Harruck, so you won’t get jack if you give it to him. He’s not playing for us anymore, sir. Somebody got to him.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, sir. And now I’m supposed to go through him before making a move. I’m letting you know right now that I can’t do that.”
“I understand. Unless your OPORDER changes, you stay on target, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any more news about your dad?”
I told him about my conversation with my sister. We were waiting to hear more.
Most of my guys picked up minor wounds, as I did, and the doctor was able to remove the pieces of shrapnel from my legs and stitch me up. He’d asked about the scar on my chest, as I suspected he would.
All I said was that I’d been serving in the Philippines and been stabbed with a very interesting sword shaped like a Chinese character. The weapon was now resting comfortably in a glass case at an old friend’s house.
After all these years, the scar still itched. And I could still see Fang Zhi’s eyes as he’d thrust the blade into me. I was just a kid back then. And the missions seemed crystal clear. Ironically, Fang Zhi had questioned his own commanders’ orders and become torn over his duty versus the lives of the men in his charge. Though I don’t regret killing him, I better understood his position after spending time in Afghanistan.
Back in our billet, most of the guys were sitting on their bunks, staring blankly or rubbing the corners of their eyes and trying not to lose it. We’d been a closely knit team for the past two years. We’d lost a family member.
“We need to get out there tonight and get some,” said Ramirez, just after I entered. “They need to pay for killing Matt.”
The response was natural, rudimentary, entirely human, and I felt the same—despite its sounding like a knee-jerk reaction of less experienced soldiers.
Hume, Nolan, and Brown began nodding. Treehorn joined them. Jenkins, the biggest, most intimidating guy on the team, started crying. Smith, who was near him, offered a few words of encouragement.
Master Sergeant Matt Beasley had hailed from Detroit, had tooled around the ’hood in a Harley Sportster, and was a latchkey kid who’d made a name for himself in the Army. I don’t expect my words to do him justice, and you’ll never know him the way we did, but you need to understand how important he was to us.
In recent months Ramirez had become more of my right-hand man, but Beasley had been the first guy to help out, had treated me with respect and had welcomed me into his fold. NCOs could make or break you, and much of my success was due to his experience and guidance. We always had Alpha and Bravo teams, with Charlie team being our “one-man” sniper operation, and Beasley always led Bravo for me. I never once doubted his abilities and knew that if I was ever injured or incapacitated, my guys were in his more-than-capable hands.
I could tell myself that if I hadn’t sent the minesweepers out there, then Matt would still be alive. But I wouldn’t have made that decision. I would have sent them no matter the risk. Of course, I’d seen a lot of guys die in combat—and a lot of guys die just getting blown up while they were on their way to the latrine. Sometimes I took the blame and just buried it. But I’d been working with Matt for a long time, and though I couldn’t help but feel the guilt, I could already hear him telling me not to worry about it. Sorry, Matt, that’s easier said than done.
The guys, no doubt, wanted payback. So did I. And not just against the Taliban.
Before I could speak, a big Chinook rumbled overhead, shaking the hut with its twin rotors.
“That was fast,” said Ramirez, his gaze shooting up to the ceiling.
“Well, that might not be our bird,” I said. He was referring to our having Beasley’s body shipped back to Kandahar.
He nodded. “So, are we game on for tonight?”
I raised a palm. “Take it easy. I’ve got no actionable intel.”
“They’ve been poking around, trying to feel out our new defenses in the defile,” said Treehorn. “There are some foothills in the back with a couple of tunnel entrances—or at least they looked like entrances from where I was at.”
The door swung open, and in walked Captain Warris.
No one spoke.
“Guys, I’m deeply sorry about the death of Master Sergeant Beasley. I just wanted you to know that. I wanted you to know that I’m a Ghost, too. I’m on this team. Not anyone else’s . . .”
Ramirez raised his hand. “Sir, can we talk off the record?”
Warris showed his palm. “Let me stop you there. I already know where this is going.”
I glanced sidelong at him. “So do I.” There was no mistaking the threat in my tone.
“What’s going on here, people, is a philosophical difference between commanders that’s playing out in the ditches, and we got stuck with the raw deal. I need to be in the loop on everything because I’m supposed to smooth things over between us and the CO. I don’t blame your captain for being upset over what’s transpired here, but for now, we just make the best of it until higher gets its head out of its ass.”
Oh, he was a clever bastard, all right, I thought. He’d let me have it, then had softened his tone to try to win over the hearts and minds of my guys. He had no idea who he was dealing with . . .
“That’s right, everyone,” I said, widening my gaze on them. “And as I just told you, we have no actionable intelligence at this time, so we’ll continue in our holding pattern. Meanwhile, I’ll be in close touch with the colonel to see if they can get us something.”
“Very well,” said Warris.
We all stood there. You could cut the awkwardness with a bowie knife.
“Uh, yeah, one other thing,” I said. “I always bunk with my team, and this billet is full. I’m sure Harruck has room with the other officers.”
He snorted. “Right. I’ll work that out. And one more thing. Captain Harruck has decided to turn over that weapons cache to the local police chief. Kundi has agreed. They’ll use those weapons to begin arming a new police force.”
“Interesting,” I said. “And where are they recruiting this new police force?”
“From the local villages,” Warris answered.
“Which includes Sangsar,” I pointed out. “Zahed’s hometown.”
“I think it’s a good compromise, rather than simply confiscating the weapons.”
“Before these COIN ops, this wouldn’t have happened,” I said. “The weapons would be gone. No chance of them falling back into the enemy’s hands.”
He sighed. “It is what it is.” And with that, he hurried out, the door slamming after him.
Not three seconds after he was gone, Treehorn looked at me and said, “All right, Captain. Let’s plan this out. Time to rock ’n’ roll. And that fool there? He ain’t invited to this party.”
FOURTEEN
That night after dinner I agonized over an e-mail to Matt Beasley’s parents. I would send the
message once the Army notified them of his death. He’d never married and was an only child, but he stayed in close contact with his mom and dad, who still lived in Detroit. I’d written letters like that before, but this one was particularly hard because of the admiration and respect I’d had for the man and because of the growing futility—and anger—I felt about the mission.
He died for something. I must’ve told myself that a million times. He died while protecting his comrades. I was citing him for a Silver Star for distinguished gallantry in action against an enemy. That had to be enough. But it wasn’t. My bitterness only made me feel more guilty.
I wanted to get drunk. I knew Harruck had some booze, but I wouldn’t go to him now. I even entertained the idea of paying Bronco a visit to see if he had anything stashed.
The boys were going over our gear with a fine-toothed comb. We were heading out for the big show. Guns would boom. Grenades would burst apart. Blood would spill.
That first chopper that’d come in had brought medical supplies and was not scheduled to pick up Beasley’s body. A second Chinook finally landed at sundown, and the transfer went off with a very brief prayer service. Warris was there. He never met my gaze.
Now, while we prepared to saddle up, Brown came over as I was packing magazines. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, sir.”
“Second thoughts?”
“Not about the mission or being short one man. It’s just . . . we were talking while you were on the computer. No one wants to see you take any more heat.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s part of my job description. They create officers so they know who to hang when the mission goes down the toilet. I live in the fire. We all do. If Zahed’s got some tunnels he’s using to move troops forward so they can attack our defenses, then it’s our job to find them and destroy them. It’s a nobrainer. We’re not just out here to get payback for Matt.”
“I know. And I don’t want to piss you off, but you keep saying this could all be pretty straightforward, and they keep telling us it ain’t that simple.”
I hardened my gaze. “Maybe we just have to open our eyes a little more and stop convincing ourselves that this is so complex. What if it’s not? What if these people are just playing us all for fools? Turning us against each other, so they can get what they want? Maybe . . . it’s as simple as that.”