“We’ll see if we can get them to an orphanage,” I said. “The woman who’s in charge of the school project, Anderson? We’ll see if we can get help from her.”
I still vowed to find Shilmani and tell him I had gotten his daughter out of there. I wanted to tell the man how bravely she’d fought and how she’d literally saved my life. I wasn’t sure if that would change anything, but I wanted him to know.
However, the fan was dialed up to ten, and the camel dung was about to hit it and fly for miles.
I was ordered to Harruck’s office before I even returned to my billet.
When he was finished cursing his head off and sucking down his drink, he looked at me and said, “I hope to God you think this was worth it. At least give me that much. At least let me know that you still believe in what you did, because if you don’t…”
“Zahed needed to die. I’m sorry about the consequences. He’s dead. Maybe things will change here. Maybe not.”
“Well, I’m done here. I’m out. That’s a change. You win. I lose. We did nothing here. Nothing.”
I might’ve stolen two hours of sleep before I dragged myself back up and fought with the guards at the gate, who wouldn’t let me and Brown leave the base.
“I have direct orders from the CO. Your team is confined to the base. You’ll have to take that up with the CO, sir.”
I did. Harruck was sleeping, but the XO spoke to us. “Word came down. There are some boys from Kandahar flying in to talk to you guys.”
“Army Intel?”
He shook his head. “Spooks.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Bronco screamed, and that was the edited version of his question, which in truth had contained curses and combinations of curses I hadn’t heard before.
He and his sidekick had escaped from Sangsar, gotten treated for their gunshot wounds, and linked up with their superiors. The group of four decided they would interrogate the hell out of me all morning. I’d grinned at the crutches both Bronco and Mikey had used to get into the room.
With arms folded over my chest and a bored look on my face, I repeated, “I don’t have to talk to you, and I won’t. So piss off.”
Bronco attempted to describe the length and breadth of their operation, and he leaned forward and told me that I’d ruined years’ worth of work, murdered an unarmed man, and that the agency would see me hang. Blah. Blah. Blah.
I told them all where to go, then stormed out. They couldn’t hold me. They couldn’t do jack. I went back to Harruck and told him I was going to see Shilmani and that if he tried to stop me, I’d have him brought up on charges.
He started laughing and just waved me off. His laughter sounded more unbalanced than cynical.
Brown and I caught up with Shilmani at the shacks on the outskirts of town. He was loading water and would not look at me as we approached.
“Listen to me, please,” I began. “We got Hila. She’s in the hospital. She’s okay.”
He froze at the back of his truck and just stood there a moment, his breathing ragged before he began to cry.
I looked at Brown and turned away. I was choked up myself. I could barely imagine what Shilmani was going through. He had to convince himself that his daughter was dirt now because his culture dictated how he should think. In fact, if we didn’t get the girls to an orphanage and simply call them “war orphans,” they would all be arrested and sentenced to prison. That’s right. The system did not distinguish between victims of rape and those who willingly had relations outside marriage.
“Do you want to see her?” I asked.
“I can’t.”
“You would have been so proud. She fought at my side. And she saved my life.”
“Scott, don’t tell me any more. Please…”
“Why don’t you take your family and get the hell out of here? There’s got to be a way out.”
He finally looked at me, backhanded away the tears, and said, “This is my life.”
By late in the day I got called to the comm center and learned that General Keating was waiting to speak to me.
“Mitchell, you make it damn near impossible for me to get your back when you play it this close to the vest. If the president weren’t distracted by twenty other problems, I’d be pulling KP in the White House mess.”
“I understand, sir. And I’ve been running an obstacle course here myself.”
Okay, I was speaking through my teeth, and though I highly respected the man, I wanted to unload on him, too. He’d had no idea what I’d just gone through, but I wasn’t about to cry on his shoulder.
“I’m pulling you back to Fort Bragg. I’d advise you to lay low but I know you don’t work that way, so once you’re back home you’ll be confined to quarters. We’ll put on a show until JAG takes its best shot or you’re last month’s news.”
“Sir, Joey Ramirez is still MIA.”
“I know that, son, and the search will continue. But we’ve got Warris running off at the mouth and trying to ruin your career. I want you out of there.”
“Warris is an asshole. Sir. He’d bitch if you hanged him with a new rope. It’s my word against his.”
“For now, he doesn’t need witnesses, Mitchell. Because I believe him.”
“Sir?”
“Easy, son. I agree. He’s a fool. But I know he’s telling the truth — because I know you. And your men. But between him and the CIA, they’re not going to back off. I’ve got to deal with it.”
“Where does all this leave me, sir?”
“From where I’m sitting, this operation has become a perfect storm of botched communications. And because of the political ramifications in Kabul, as well as here, higher’s out for blood. It’s why they have officers, son. Someone’s got to fall on his sword. Someone will take the fall for this mess.”
“And blood flows downhill…”
“It’s Newton’s law, Scott. Simple as that.”
I closed my eyes and massaged them. “I understand, sir. For the good of the service…”
“That bastard Zahed needed killing, and you gave it to him. You did a fine job, soldier, no matter what you hear, no matter what they say.”
“But you still don’t have my back, do you, sir?”
He took a deep breath, looked torn—
And broke the connection.
By dinnertime the team had packed up the billet. We were being driven to Kandahar, where we’d catch the first of many flights back home.
They’d refused to allow us to participate in the tunnel search, but before we left, Harruck sent a man out to fetch me. The guy led me to a small tent behind the hospital, the makeshift morgue, where Ramirez lay across a folding table.
He’d been shot in the head. Point-blank.
“Oh, dear God,” I said aloud.
“Any other wounds?” I asked one of the other soldiers there.
“Nope. Must’ve caught him by surprise.”
I cursed and rushed out of there.
And all I could see was Warris raising a rifle to Ramirez’s head and pulling the trigger.
I found the punk lying in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He had no time to get up. I leaned over him and screamed, “YOU KILLED HIM, YOU RAT BASTARD, DIDN’T YOU? YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!”
I guess Brown had seen me running toward Warris’s quarters and had come after me because he burst through the door and rushed over, believing I was going to strike Warris. He grabbed my wrist and hung on.
Warris started cursing and told me I’d lost my mind and why the hell would he kill Ramirez?