Gil looked up from lacing his boots. “I wasn’t told she was pregnant, Chief.”
Steelyard started to speak but paused. “Are you saying Lerher knew?”
“After he bragged up and down about how they’ve been listening to Al-Nazari’s phone calls — what do you think the prick knew? The guy withheld pertinent information about a target that took me by surprise inside the kill zone. He knowingly sent me in there at a disadvantage.”
“Okay,” Steelyard conceded. “Maybe he did, but that doesn’t mean you rewrite foreign policy out there in the field so you can make a personal point. Jesus, Gilligan, you abducted an Iranian national! You know how that could play internationally. Not to mention you brought a living witness to an assassination back with you.”
“So let Lerher shoot her if he’s got the balls,” Gil said, getting pissed. “We’ll bury her here on the fuckin’ base with nobody the wiser. Hell, I’ll dig the fuckin’ hole for the prick!”
“It doesn’t work that way, Gil, and you know it.”
Gil got to his feet. “So how’s it work, Chief? Tell me! It’s okay to blow a pregnant woman away in the middle of fucking nowhere when nobody’s lookin’, but back here by the light of day it’s against our moral code? Shit! You don’t get to have it both ways. Pick one!”
“This is what we do,” Steelyard rejoined. “Sometimes the job requires us to get our hands dirty. If you can’t hack that, then I suggest you find another line of work, cowboy!”
Gil knew he’d made a mistake, but he knew equally there was no other way he could have played it. He would have sooner died than execute the Sherkat woman under those circumstances. It was a shit-packed submarine sandwich at both ends, and he’d been forced to take a bite. Only he took that bite from the middle this time, and now everybody was pissed.
“Point taken.” He shrugged into his ACU and zipped it up. “Do they have photos of the target area yet?”
Steelyard drew a breath, forcing himself to decompress. “Yeah. So far, no Iranian forces have moved into the area. It would have been the perfect op with perfect execution if not for your lack of judgment. Head Shed’s impressed with your body count and overall success. They’re going to confirm all the KIAs to your official tally… for whatever that’s worth to you.”
Gil shrugged it off. “I’m not looking to win any contests. If the other shooter had proofed his scope against the sun, I’d be dead.”
Steelyard wiped his nose and turned for the door. “No accounting for luck in combat. Now let’s get you over to debrief before they send the MPs looking for us.”
As they walked across the air base, Gil noticed a lot of activity inside the hangar on the far side of the tarmac. “What the hell’s going on over there?”
Steelyard glanced briefly in that direction and continued walking. “Bank Heist is on for zero hundred hours. From what we hear, the ransom drop for Sandra was a goat fuck. But we’ve got a solid lead from NCIS that says she might be in Waigal, so we’re moving against the village at first light. Crosswhite’s in command.”
“Waigal?” The hair on Gil’s neck stood up. “That’s deep in Indian country.”
“Maybe so,” Steelyard said, “but that won’t be your problem. You’re sitting this one out.”
“It’s sittin’ that hurts, Chief. I can still run, jump, and swim as well as ever.”
Steelyard paused to light up his Cohiba. “Your ass has nothing to do with it. You’ve got heat on you right now, and this mission doesn’t need the extra attention… besides, I need to hold somebody in reserve who knows the parameters in case of a goat fuck in Waigal Valley. Hell, we might both end up busted down before this tour is over.”
Gil entered the same room where he had received mission overview for Operation Tiger Claw, finding Agent Lerher and Captain Metcalf seated at a table waiting for him.
Lerher looked visibly wound up. “Have a seat, Master Chief.”
Gil saluted Captain Metcalf and took a seat on the edge of the folding metal chair with his arm over the back of it, leaning slightly to the left to keep his balance.
“Do you need a cushion?” Lerher asked, trying to sound patient.
Gil looked at him. “Nope.”
Lerher stole a glance at Metcalf, realizing by Gil’s response that he wasn’t about to apologize for bringing the Sherkat woman back with him. She was still in surgery having her clavicle repaired, but the report that Lerher had received on her condition minutes before entering the building had been favorable, and there didn’t seem to be any immediate threat to the pregnancy.
He reached out to switch on the small video camera resting on a tripod near the edge of the table.
“Okay,” he said, fishing a number of high-resolution photos from a file. The photos were no more than an hour old. “We’ll start at the beginning. I need you to indicate on these photos exactly where you landed, where you stashed your jump gear, et cetera. As you know, Master Chief, it’s important that you provide as much detail as possible.”
“I thought you wanted me to start at the beginning,” Gil said, glancing at the camera.
Lerher looked up from the photos. “Did something occur aboard the plane or during your descent that we need to know about?”
“I don’t consider that the beginning either,” Gil replied, his gaze set. From his demeanor, no one would have guessed that his commanding officer was seated only a few feet away.
Lerher sat back. “Okay. What do you consider to be the beginning?”
“The last time we were in this very room,” Gil said. “When you withheld pertinent information from me about one of the people I was ordered to assassinate.”
Lerher stiffened at the word assassinate, which was not generally used in this formal setting. He could see Gil was attempting to take control of the debrief by going immediately on the offensive. “Master Chief, nothing pertinent was withheld. You were given everything you needed to carry out the mission. Now, getting back to—”
“Staying on point—” Gil interrupted, his tone peremptory, “you sent me into Iran to assassinate a pregnant woman without informing me of her condition. It is your responsibility to do everything within your power to make sure that nothing appears in my scope that is not supposed to be there, nothing that could cause me to hesitate before squeezing the trigger or to question my purpose for being in country.”
Lerher drew a breath, preparing to retort.
“Continuing!” Gil went on. “The unforeseeable is my responsibility, but you willfully withheld pertinent information, for reasons as to which I can only guess. Never mind trying to deny what you knew right now. Evidence as to what you did or did not know will be provided at my court-martial — which I will request rather than willingly accept any sort of demotion or disciplinary action. Have I made myself clear on this point, Agent Lerher? As you’ve asked me to provide you with as much detail on camera as possible, I am attempting to do precisely that.”
Lerher straightened. “No one is seeking disciplinary action at this—”
“That’s not what I hear.” Gil’s military bearing was firmly set. “At this time I am requesting representation from the Judge Advocate General’s office.” He turned his attention to Captain Metcalf. “Sir, under the Uniform Code of Military Justice I have the right to representation during any questioning that may lead to criminal prosecution. Given the parameters of the mission in question and the nature of my orders, which I carried out to the letter, I make that formal request at this time.”