“I just got confirmation from Drago,” Gordon said, referring to Anders by his call sign. “Everything we need is on that laptop. Excellent work securing it with the password already entered.”
“So, what’s the change?” I repeated.
“We no longer need Rafael Montalban alive. Liquidate him immediately.”
“What?” I snarled, furious. “Three guys died trying to get that asshole, and now you tell us you don’t need him? What the fuck are you doing, Gordon? Who in the hell is making these decisions?”
“Nightcrawler, I know you’ve had a bad night, but—”
“I haven’t had a bad night, goddamn it!” I snapped, shouting into the microphone. “A bad night is when you get a flat tire or you break your cell phone. Tonight I killed a bunch of people and three of my teammates died, and now you’re telling me it was for nothing?”
“Mr. Valentine!” Gordon barked, ignoring radio protocols. “We’ll discuss this when you return. Believe me when I say that tonight’s operation was not for nothing. You have your orders. Carry them out.” The radio fell silent. I ripped the headset off and threw it to the deck. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, swearing to myself. Taking another deep breath, I regained my composure and warned the pilots about what was going to happen.
“What was that all about?” Tailor asked. I didn’t say anything in response. I just pointed at Rafael Montalban and dragged a finger across my throat. Tailor’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Jesus Christ, you gotta be shittin’ me,” Hudson said, shaking his head.
I steeled myself; I had my orders. I turned to face Rafael Montalban and pulled the bag off of his head. He squinted in the red light, obviously confused.
“What’s happening now?” he asked, still sounding defiant. “Have you come to your senses, young man?”
“This is where you get off,” I said levelly.
“I . . . don’t understand,” Montalban replied hesitantly.
“You will.” I pushed a button on the hull. The chopper was filled with a windy roar as the door behind our prisoner slid open. His eyes grew wide at the sudden realization of what was happening. He looked out at the blackness behind him, then back at me.
My .44 was already in my hand. I fired from the hip, putting the bullet through his chest. He didn’t even scream. Before he could crumple to the floor, I kicked the dying man in the chest. Rafael Montalban, aristocrat, billionaire, industrialist, and head of an international conglomerate, tumbled out the door and disappeared into the darkness. Holstering my revolver, I closed the door and sat back down. I held my head in my hands.
The subsequent trip back to Fort Saradia was long and uneventful. I slept through most of it. The choppers had landed somewhere in the desert again. The five of us piled into a large van for the long drive back to the city. I didn’t wake up again until we crossed into the fort.
Upon arrival we were immediately herded into the briefing room. Colonel Hunter and Sarah were both waiting for us. We shuffled into the room, still in our body armor, weapons slung, and tried to sit at the desks with all of our gear on.
When I stepped into the room, I made eye contact with Sarah, who was standing back by Hunter. I knew I looked like hell. I wanted nothing more than to stride across the room and take her in my arms. I didn’t think the colonel would approve. I managed a smile for her to let her know I was okay, even though I wasn’t really. I just didn’t want her to worry, even though she undoubtedly would anyway.
The debriefing went by quickly. Hunter just wanted to get through it while the mission was fresh in our minds and let us get some sleep. It had been a tough run. Holbrook had a bandage on his arm. I had a .357 slug stuck in my vest. Three of our teammates were on the bottom of the Persian Gulf. Bad op.
We all chimed in during the debriefing. Sarah recorded and Hunter listened intently as we retold the events of the mission, from beginning to end. Fighting fatigue, I explained the entry into the engine room and how Byrne died. The image of him lying on the floor, left eye socket filled with blood, flashed in my mind and I stumbled on my words. Tailor interjected and continued the narrative.
Hunter leaned against a desk, arms folded across his chest, and listened quietly as I explained the events of the return flight. His one eye studied me as I recalled Gordon’s order to kill Rafael Montalban. Sarah put a hand over her mouth when I described dropping him into the ocean.
“So tell me,” Colonel Hunter said, “where is this laptop? You retrieved the target’s laptop computer, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Tailor replied.
“So where is it?” Hunter repeated.
“We gave it to Anders,” Tailor said, sounding confused.
“What?” Hunter said, anger rising in his voice.
“Anders was waiting for us on the deck of the ship,” Hudson said. “He took the laptop from us. Did we do something wrong, Colonel?”
Hunter didn’t say anything for a moment. “No, boys, you did fine. Where is Mr. Anders now?”
“He stayed on the chopper after it dropped us off, sir,” Holbrook said. “He’s wherever those stealth birds go, I guess.”
“I see,” Hunter said, rubbing his chin. It was obvious that something was very wrong, but he didn’t want to discuss it with us. At that point I was so tired I didn’t really care. I just wanted to go to bed and forget this day had happened. “That’s all I have for you, gentlemen. Go get some rack time. You won’t have anything else scheduled for as long as I can manage it. You’ve all been busting ass for a long time. You deserve a break. Tonight, after sundown, we’ll have a memorial service for Cromwell, Byrne, and Blutarsky. Dismissed.”
We all got up to leave. Sarah crossed the room and threw her arms around me. She squeezed me tightly, then stepped away.
“I was worried,” she said simply.
“I’m okay,” I said, smiling a little. “It was a bad night. But I’m okay.”
“Ms. McAllister, you can smother Mr. Valentine with affection later,” Colonel Hunter said. “I need to speak with him. You, too, Tailor.” Sarah’s face turned red, and I felt myself flush a little.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Val, everyone knows,” Tailor said. “It’s not a secret.”
“Did you guys think you were keeping it a secret?” Holbrook asked, standing by the door. “Wow, that’s funny,” he said humorlessly, then stepped out of the classroom. Hudson and Fillmore followed.
“I’ll see you later,” Sarah said, squeezing my hand. She left the room, leaving Tailor and me alone with Colonel Hunter.
“Is something wrong, Colonel?” Tailor asked.
“You’re goddamned right something’s wrong,” Hunter growled. “I’m not yelling at you, son, don’t worry. You boys took a bad situation and made it work, like you always do. Matter of fact, I’m damned proud of you all.”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “this is bullshit. You told us we’d be fighting terrorists. You told us we were taking the war to their backyard. You said we were accomplishing something here. So what did we accomplish by kidnapping some rich guy off of his yacht? What did we accomplish when I murdered him and dropped him in the ocean? What the fuck are we doing here, sir?” I realized then that I’d almost been yelling at Colonel Hunter. He didn’t seem fazed.
“I don’t know,” Hunter said.
“Um . . . what?” Tailor asked.
“I don’t know what you accomplished, boys. I’m going to level with you here. I saw Gordon’s intelligence on Rafael Montalban. His organization definitely was funneling money to General Al Sabah and other radical elements throughout the region. We’ve known about that for years.”