Opinions of the president’s decision to pull out of the valley were equally divided. Half the troops in the ATO at least sympathized with the president for wanting to spare Sandra any additional torture. The other half, however, were busy putting themselves in Sandra’s shoes, boasting that it would be better to die on American terms than it would be to die at the whim of a lunatic Muslim cleric. They wanted to attack right now with every available fighting man and wipe the village of Bazarak clean off the map.
Newly released from the hospital, Captain Crosswhite limped into the ready room in the hangar where Gil, Steelyard, and a number of other SEALs — many of whom had taken part in Bank Heist — were sitting around smoking cigarettes and nipping from a pair of illegal whiskey flasks.
Gil flicked the butt of his cigarette into a dented steel trash can and grinned. “I expected you to be on a plane back to Kandahar by now.”
“Shit,” Crosswhite said, reaching to take a cigarette away from a very junior SEAL sitting near the wall. “They don’t want me back down there.” He took a long drag from the smoke and gave it back. “I’m persona non grata. Soon to be dishonorably discharged — or worse.” He winked at Steelyard. “Like my buddy over there.”
Steelyard chuckled. “If I was ten years younger, I’d be humping the Panjshir Valley as we speak. As I am, I wouldn’t do anybody any good. Sucks getting old, boys — remember I told you that.”
There were a number of dutiful chuckles.
Crosswhite took a seat and reached for the flask.
“That a good idea for you right now?” Gil asked.
“Hell, no.” Crosswhite tipped the flask. “Thanks, I needed that. I just got cornered outside the hospital by John Brux. He said he flew in here to thank me for trying to rescue his wife. I told him he didn’t have to thank me for a fuckin’ thing. I asked him if he wanted to walk over here with me to thank the rest of you Bank Heist boys, but he asked me to do it for him. He’s pretty down at the moment. I guess nobody gave him the news about Sandra’s finger until a few hours ago. He says nobody wanted to be the one to tell him.”
“Jesus, can you blame them?” Alpha said.
Crosswhite’s face lit up, noticing Alpha for the first time. “Hey, Leper! Your pecker drop off yet?”
The room broke up in laughter and Alpha jumped up, turning in a circle to give them all the finger with both hands. “Right here, motherfuckers!” He grabbed his package. “None of you fucking pussies would have acted any different.”
Even Gil was having trouble suppressing a smile. He caught a glimpse of Forogh signaling to him from outside the ready room and slipped quietly out into the hangar as the jokes about Alpha’s Bank Heist meltdown began to fly.
“What’s up?” Gil asked guardedly, expecting Forogh to level more complaints about the interrogation.
“I need to talk to you,” the interpreter said. “Alone.”
“Look, Forogh, if it’s about the interrogation—”
“No, it’s not about that,” Forogh said in a hushed voice.
“All right, come on.” Gil led him out behind the hangar, where the two of them climbed up into the back of a deuce-and-a-half truck.
“Okay, what’s eating you?”
Forogh stared at him, as if taking a final moment to make sure of himself. “I have family in Bazarak.”
Gil felt his skin turn to gooseflesh. “How much family — a lot?”
Forogh shrugged. “Many uncles, cousins. They fought with Massoud against the Russians.”
“Do you think you can get in there with the place being under HIK control?”
Forogh nodded. “My uncles will vouch for me. No one in my family knows that I work for American Special Forces.”
In his mind, Gil was suddenly halfway to Bazarak. “Do you think you could get in there and find out where Sandra’s being held? Would you be willing to try?”
“Yes,” Forogh said. “I’m worried, though. I don’t trust the CIA.”
“Don’t worry,” Gil said. “We’re not telling SOG. We’re keeping this a nice tight little unit. But first I gotta get permission.”
This confused Forogh. “Permission? But you just said to forget about SOG.”
“SOG’s not in authority now.” Gil bumped him on the shoulder. “I’m talking about getting permission from a higher source. Give me two hours, then meet me back in the hangar.”
Gil went to his quarters and dug out the iPhone he’d gotten from Joe the night of Operation Tiger Claw. He’d spoken with Joe since and talked him into letting him borrow the hi-tech PDA indefinitely.
He typed out a detailed message and sent it off to Langley, Virginia. Then he lay on his bunk to take a nap. An hour later, he received a lengthy answer to his message and jumped up to go find Major John Brux.
CHAPTER 40
Major John Brux was sitting in the mess hall by himself, picking at a compressed beef patty, when a man he didn’t remember ever seeing before sat down across the table from him.
“John Brux, right?” the man said.
Brux looked at him, not really appreciating the intrusion. “Who’s asking?”
“My name’s Gil Shannon. I’m a good friend of Dan Crosswhite. I also know your wife.”
Brux was a big man with dark eyes and broad shoulders, but his shoulders were uncharacteristically drooped beneath the weight of the burden he was carrying these days. He noticed the trident on Gil’s uniform. “Were you on the Bank Heist mission with Crosswhite?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Gil said, sitting back with a sigh. “I was stuck back here nursing a bullet wound to my ass. I’d like to talk to you about something off the record.”
Brux took a look around. The closest people were a pair of civilian intelligence analysts sitting five tables away. “I’m listening.”
Gil lowered his voice and sat forward, keeping his face casual. “If I can get an indigenous operative into Bazarak to mark the exact building where Sandra is being held, do I have your permission to go in there and try to bring her out?”
Brux stole another startled look at the analysts who stared back at him for a curious moment before continuing with their meal. “What are you talking about?”
“Yes or no?”
“No,” Brux said. “Ten men nearly died already. Two of them are facing court-martial. She wouldn’t want anyone else taking that kind of a risk. Besides, what could one man do?”
Gil shrugged. “That depends on the man and how big his balls are. More important, it depends on whether or not there’s a Spectre gunship watching over him.”
Brux shook his head, thinking Gil must be some kind of a hero type. “No. I appreciate your willingness to try, but no. Sandra’s best chance now is for the State Department to negotiate her release.”
“John, no offense, but that’s dog shit, and you know it. The HIK has her, and those people are fixing to take over this country after we leave. Weakness and mercy are not the paths to power.”
Brux stared at him, his face clouding over with a mixture of fear and anger. “You think I need to hear shit like that right now?”
Gil went on, keeping is voice low. “I’ve got a plan to bring your wife out. You in or not?”
Brux watched the analysts getting up to leave, and then lowered his voice. “What the fuck’s so special about you, huh? Why should I trust Sandra’s life to some renegade adrenaline junkie with a death wish?”