“I was there with you in Fallujah and went to bat for you later, but those assholes in Washington needed a scapegoat. They needed some red meat to feed the antiwar crowd. Unfortunately, you were the one on the menu. Let me say that a little payback was given recently,” Barone said, referring to his sacking the capitol in Salem and killing Governor Pelsom, who chaired the senate committee that sought Gordon’s court martial.
Gordon craned his neck and eyed Barone suspiciously and asked, “Payback?”
“Don’t worry about it. Listen. You and I have crossed paths again for a reason. We’re kindred spirits in many ways. We both loved the idea of what we thought our country was, we then both suffered the harsh fucking five a.m. wake-up call that it wasn’t what we thought. That it’s run by corrupt politicians who are self-serving and are only there to look out for themselves.” Barone began to get heated but calmed himself. “Forgive me, I digress.”
Gordon finished his second drink and started to feel the effects of the whiskey.
“Van Zandt, I brought you here to ask something of you. It’s not an easy job, but you’re the man for it.”
Gordon was right—he knew it was heading in this direction. But how could he refuse? Barone had done so much for him.
“I have a few packages that I need to have delivered. What I’ll give you in return for their delivery is your very own Humvee to keep with a trailer full of fuel, ammo, and rations to last your family a year, as well as equipment and whatever you need from our supplies.”
Gordon leaned back in his seat. “Wow, that’s quite an offering. But I don’t understand. Why don’t you deliver it yourself?”
“It’s a delicate matter. Let’s just say that the packages are alive. They’re people.”
“Sir, I’ll be honest. All I want to do is go home. My wife and daughter have been waiting for me for too long. I owe you and I understand that. But if I’m going to even think about doing this, I need all the information,” Gordon insisted.
Barone nodded and began to recount the latest developments. He told Gordon about holding Cruz and other staff from the United States as prisoners. He touched on the treaty that had been agreed to, but had not yet been formally signed. The one thing that stood in the way of signature was that Barone had to return Cruz and the secretary of state as a sign of good faith.
“I still don’t understand why I need to do it. You have thousands of Marines that can. Why me?”
“I can’t spare a man here. You’re heading in the general direction so I thought that if I sweetened the deal, you’d do it. I’m actually trying to help you,” Barone said.
“So where do I need to go?”
“Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“Cheyenne? That’s way past McCall, plus—” Gordon began to argue but Barone interrupted him.
“Van Zandt! I helped you out, gave you men and equipment. Hell, your actions killed some of my men, and now you won’t help me? Unbelievable!” Barone barked.
The pleasant demeanor of the conversation was quickly deteriorating. Gordon understood why Barone would be incensed, and quickly decided that it was best for him to agree.
“Fine, I’ll do it. I just don’t understand why you can’t put them on a chopper and fly them there. Driving them there is an odd way to do it.”
“Let me explain a bit more. You saw that fucking crowd of do-gooders out there? They think they’re standing up for what is right. They think this is pre–December Fifth. They think that the old systems are still in place. They forget who protected and died for those systems. We did. You and I fought for those types out there and now they’re standing up saying they want me to leave. I, of course, refused. Now, this bitch of a mayor comes into my office saying that they will hold me accountable by indicting me for war crimes and treason. Just who does she think she is?” Barone stood up and started to pace the room. He was fired up from mentioning the situation. “You should have seen her eyes when I told her the President of the United States had made a treaty with us. Shit, she flipped out when I told her that! You are asking why I need you. I need someone I can trust. You’ll have one of her aides riding shotgun with you.”
“I still don’t understand,” Gordon said, looking puzzled.
Barone was feeling the alcohol, and was beginning to slur his speech.
“I have to be the thing I hate the most, a fucking politician. I have to manage the situation that the mayor has caused, and I gotta do it with kid gloves. Believe me, I want to go in with a sledgehammer and fix it, but I can’t. So I sat her down this morning and we came to an agreement.”
“That was an agreement?” Gordon joked about the yelling and screaming he heard when he first showed up.
“Oh, that was just pillow talk between us. You should have heard it earlier when she found out that I had taken the vice president. Oh my God, she lost it. Eventually she begrudgingly agreed and we worked out the details. What you heard before were a few parting comments about how she wanted me out. Tough shit, lady.”
“I still don’t know why you don’t put them on a bird and fly them. Hell, you’d be done with this in no time and I can go on my way. You know how bad it is out there,” Gordon said.
“She doesn’t trust that my men will do the right thing,” Barone barked.
“Then have President Conner send some choppers from Cheyenne. Driving is—let me put it bluntly—stupid.”
Barone stopped pacing and slammed his glass on the desk. “Van Zandt, I’m controlling this situation. I don’t want to see any U.S. choppers coming in here. I need to maintain control over this entire thing. Having Conner send in choppers gives him more intel on what we have going on here than I like. Here’s the reality: I don’t know if our little treaty will last and I don’t need him having eyes on our operation here.”
“Then mix it up. I’ll drive them to a location—”
“Enough, Van Zandt! Are you going to help me and do it my way or not?”
Gordon paused before he answered. He thought the plan was a total soup sandwich, but he didn’t want to say no.
“I’m in, Colonel.”
“Good.”
“Can we run through it all again? She wants one of her people to go?”
“Christ, Van Zandt, do I need to spell this out for ya? That blast hurt your head, didn’t it?” Barone said. “She doesn’t believe me. She wants to hear it from the president himself. I don’t feel like picking up the phone and having her talk to him, because… fuck her. If she wants to talk to him, she can go to Cheyenne. I thought she’d jump at going; however, she caught on to my plan. She is now sending a surrogate to get verification. Her caveat for sending her aide was that we find a third party and you, my friend, are it.”
“But who’s bringing this person back? I’m not coming all the way back here.”
“All I care is that you deliver them there. I never gave my word to bring ’em back,” Barone joked.
“Seriously, you want me to leave them?”
“I really don’t give a fuck about them. If they love the U.S., then hell, you’re probably doing them a favor.”
“You’re really putting me a bind, not having transpo for their return,” Gordon commented.
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Fine. How many people am I taking?”
“Three. Cruz, a staff person, and the mayor’s rep.”
“I’ve got a problem. I promised my friend Brittany and her son, Tyler, they’d be coming with me. I need a vehicle large enough for six people.”
“You’ll have it. It won’t be a Caddy, but it’ll get you there safely.”
“All right, when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. So here, have another!” Barone said, grabbing the bottle from the counter behind his desk and handing it to Gordon.