“Tell him I lost my watch.”
“Don’t be an ass, Scott. Who knows why he doesn’t
want a well over there? Maybe he plans to grow cannabis
there, plant cherry trees, who knows? So we move the
well to the other side of the field. No big deal. Drill a
little deeper. If he’s got a bone buried—or an opium
stash—out there, I don’t want to know about it. Not
right now, anyway.”
“So you’ll look the other way on that, too.”
“I’m just taking my time. So should you . . .”
110 GH OS T RE CON
“That a threat? Because we both know where this
will go.”
“Scott, this whole damned country is full of thugs
and gangsters. You’ll run out of fingers to point. So let’s
move on.”
Harruck took his tray to another table to join the rest
of his officers. Anderson was at a nearby table, and she
came over to me and said, “Have you seen the site yet?
We’re breaking ground for the school.”
I shook my head.
“You look finished here. Why don’t you come out
and take a look?”
I shrugged and followed her outside. She had a civil-
ian car, a Pathfinder, and she drove me over to the con-
struction site, where at least fifty workers were placing
broad wooden footers in the ground. Several concrete
trucks were parked behind us, and piles of rebar and pal-
lets of concrete blocks were stacked in long rows.
“All these guys that you hired . . . they’re from the
village?”
“Some from this one . . . some from the others . . .
but we’ve had a little problem, which is really why I
brought you out here . . .”
“You weren’t trying to soften me up? Turn me into a
humanitarian or something?”
“No. I need you to be a killer.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, I figure you’re intel or spec ops or something . . .”
“I’m just an adviser.”
“Right . . .”
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111
“How many classrooms in this building?”
“Six. It’s going to be beautiful when we’re done. And
the police station will be right out there. See the stakes?”
I shielded my eyes from the glare and noted the wooden
stakes that outlined the L-shaped building.
“Yeah, we’re going to build it, and they’ll come and
blow it back up.”
“You mean Zahed?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe not. I think Zahed is forcing the workers to
give some of their pay to the Taliban. And I think when
the school and the police station open, he’ll try to con-
trol the police. He’ll close down the school, too, but not
right away—if he thinks he can make a buck.”
“What makes you think he’s blackmailing the work-
ers?”
“At the end of the week when they’re paid, three men
come around, and they form a line. I’ve seen them giv-
ing some of their money to those guys.”
“You pay them in afghanis?”
“It’s the only way.”
“Tell you what? The next time that happens, come
find me. I’ll have a talk with them.”
“Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you bring this to Captain Harruck?”
“I did. He told me that it wasn’t any of my business
what the workers did with their money.”
“Maybe it isn’t.”
“I just . . . I don’t like it. Feels like we’re in bed with
the Taliban.”
112 GH OS T RE CON
I grinned crookedly and told her I needed to get
back.
Three things happened at once when I reached my quar-
ters:
Nolan was telling me I had an urgent call from Lieu-
tenant Colonel Gordon . . .
Bronco had come onto the base and was screaming at
me to have my two bulldogs chained up and to stop fol-
lowing him . . .
And a young captain I’d trained myself at Robin
Sage, Fred Warris, was standing at my door, waiting to
speak to me.
In fact, he was in the same training class that Har-
ruck and I had taught, which I initially thought was a
coincidence. I’d heard that Warris had gone on to
become a Ghost leader, so his presence outside my billet
was suspicious . . . and strange.
I lifted a palm as all three men vied for my attention,
but Nolan shouted:
“Sir, like I said . . . it’s urgent. Something about your
father back home.”
ELEVEN
Nolan told me the call had come from the comm center,
so I ran across the base, leaving the shouters behind. I
reached the center and discovered that Gordon was on a
webcam and seated at his desk back at Fort Bragg. He
wanted to talk to me “face to face.”
I shuddered as I sat before the monitor and tried to
catch my breath. “Sir . . .”
His voice echoed off the steel walls of the Quonset
hut. “Scott, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news about
your dad. He’s in the hospital, intensive care. He’s had a
heart attack.”
“Who called you?”
“We got word from your sister.”
“Wait a second . . .” I cocked my thumb over my
114 GH OS T RE CON
shoulder. “Warris is back at my . . . how long ago did
this happen?”
“I’m not sure. Last night? Yesterday afternoon, she
didn’t say.”
“And so you’ve sent Warris to relieve me?”
“Actually, I didn’t. I sent him to serve as a liaison
officer between you and Harruck.”
“A what?”
“Well, we wanted to limit your contact with Captain
Harruck. The general’s deeply concerned about the situ-
ation there. The idea was that all communications with
Captain Harruck would go through Captain Warris.
But now I’d understand if you want to take an emer-
gency leave and go home.”
A vein began throbbing in my temple. “Sir, I’d like to
talk to my sister before I make that decision.”
“I understand. And I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Sir, I’m sorry about Captain Warris being here. He’s
too valuable to be a liaison officer.”
“Mincing words with the old man?” Gordon smiled.
“I know you think this is bullshit, but I gotta do some-
thing to defuse what’s going on out there. Harruck’s
pounding hard, so we’ll let Warris act as the go-between.”
“I don’t need a go-between.”
“Apparently, you do.”
I glanced around, groping for a response, anything,
but then I just sighed in disgust. “Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you take the leave right now, Scott?”
“Because . . .”
He sat there, waiting for me to finish.
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115
“Because I still want to believe that my mission means
something, that capturing the target will make a differ-
ence, and that the United States Army hasn’t sold its
soul to the devil. Sir.”
He averted his gaze. “If there’s anything I can do on
my end to help, just let me know—and I’m not just talk-
ing about the mission.”
I couldn’t hide the disgust in my voice. “All right, sir.
I’ll be sending some coordinates about a field. I want