Rem said, ‘I wanted to know what we were supposed to do about the vehicles on the Beach.’
Sutler held up his hands in submission. ‘I’m here for money. That’s all I’m here for. This doesn’t involve my project.’
‘Well, you’ve wasted your time.’ Squires slapped his hands on the armrests, satisfied with himself. ‘I can’t just hand out money. You’ve raised these orders without any permissions from the divisional director. They need to come through the proper channels.’
‘There isn’t a director for this region in post. You know that.’ Sutler leaned over the table.
Squires continued unabated. ‘Once you have those orders properly countersigned we can see about distributing whatever amounts you need. I can’t give you the money until you’ve followed the proper procedures. It takes twenty-one days.’
‘This is childish.’
‘No. This is about 1.4 million dollars. That’s what you’re asking for. We can’t release any monies without the proper guarantees about how it’s going to be spent.’
‘I’ve been through all of this with Markland. Let me contact HOSCO.’
‘No. It can’t be arranged over the phone. You need the proper authorization on paper.’
When Sutler protested, Squires folded his arms. ‘I’ve explained what you need to do, I don’t understand why you’re still here.’
Sutler walked out of the office, bypassing Kiprowski and Rem.
* * *
On the return flight Sutler sat apart from the crew. HOSCO would deal with this, he said, and they would still be paid for what they’d done today, and maybe there would be something extra in it for them as this wasn’t any part of their normal duties. Pakosta and Kiprowski exchanged glances.
Sutler spoke more privately with Rem. ‘We have to come back.’
‘I’m about done with these people.’ Rem enjoyed the certainty of this thought.
‘Did you notice the photographs?’
Rem said he hadn’t.
‘In Howell’s office. Did you notice the photograph behind Squires?’
Rem said no.
‘I’ve not met Howell. I take it he has white hair?’ Sutler appeared to refigure the idea as he expressed it. ‘In the photograph there’s a man with white hair on a boat. This is Howell. Do you know what his hobbies are?’ Sutler waited for a guess, which Rem didn’t provide. ‘Sailing. He likes boats. Do you know what he did when he took Pakosta and the others to Kuwait?’
‘No.’
‘He went sailing.’
‘I don’t see the problem. So the boat belongs to Howell?’
‘After I left Howell’s office I went to speak with the CA. The Civil Authority coordinate everything that happens at Southern-CIPA. These people are the muscles to an overworked brain. There were no records of any deliveries coming to Camp Liberty. You’ve seen those Chinooks, every other day something new comes over, but there’s no record. They’re all missing. The equipment was moved without proper authorization. I don’t know why, but it looks like Howell is using military resources to move his own property without proper authority, Squires and Markland must know this, that’s why they aren’t pleased that HOSCO knows. Have you seen the boxes? Have you checked what’s in them?’
‘Explosives for the burn pits.’
‘But have you looked?’
Rem said no. The boxes were all marked the same. He assumed they all held flares and grenades for the burn pits.
* * *
As soon as they arrived back at Camp Liberty, Rem and Sutler checked the crates stored in the Quonset.
‘Have you spoken with anyone else about this?’
Sutler said no. It wasn’t something he’d properly thought through. Not that it made absolute sense to him at this moment. ‘I don’t know Howell. And I don’t know why anyone would be doing this. But it seems bizarre.’
The crates could not be moved by two men, so Sutler found Kiprowski, and when they still couldn’t move them Kiprowski was sent to find Samuels. These two, Rem believed, could be trusted.
Inside the first crate, packed in moulded sections, they found industrial equipment. None of them could make sense out of the parts or tell if they were weaponry or machinery. The oiled metal left a residue on their hands, retained their hand and fingerprints, and Rem said they should just leave it as it is.
In the third and fourth crates they found explosives, the same baton grenades they used for the fires. In the smaller pits they simply used flares, set trails of gasoline, lines of fuel to light the fires. The quantity of explosives surprised Rem, it wouldn’t be possible to use everything they were supplied with — but this also didn’t seem out of the ordinary. They had more water than they needed, they also had a surplus of toilet rolls.
Rem and Sutler sat by the Quonset door, which reminded Rem of a gas station: the open door, the scrappy road, a building busy with crates and boxes, the smell of oil.
* * *
Cathy checked her emails after work.
C,
No change. He hit his head when he fell so they don’t know for sure what’s causing the problem. They give him something to make him sleep, and yesterday he said he had more feeling back in his arms. Thnx for the info — the doctors said they needed to know exactly what he was exposed to, so this helps, I guess, but the list is so long they’re going to wait for the results of the earlier tests first. Otherwise, we don’t know what to do for him.
JW
Jonnie,
I’ve spoken with the lawyer I mentioned earlier who has represented people like your brother. He’s collecting information, and I’ve given him everything I have. I’ve also given him your name, if that’s ok, and he’ll be in touch once he gets it all together. I think I told you that I met with the company and I have a recording of that meeting where she says that all of the burn pits have been closed and they’re sending an assessment team to take samples and see what they’ve been burning. I’ve no faith in this actually happening, but she said it to my face and I have it on my cellphone. If this moves fast enough there might be some money for the medical expenses, if not now then later.
When I hear more I’ll be back in touch. In the meantime, I hope Paul continues with his recovery.
Cathy
* * *
Santo gone. Pakosta gone. Kiprowski gone. Sutler gone. Chimeno, Clark, gone and gone, a weekend in Bahrain with Howell, and Watts back home: everyone away except Samuels (which, to Rem’s thinking, was pretty much like shepherding a lame, wet dog).
Rem couldn’t sleep in a room on his own, nor in his cot, so he moved to Kiprowski’s with the notion that this would compensate: a different perspective on the same room, a relief from his own stale mattress and pillow — not that he could distinguish Kiprowski’s smell from his own. He attempted to sleep in his shorts and T-shirt, then naked, then fully clothed, then just for a laugh, tried on clothes he found in a bag under the cot, and realized once he was dressed that these were Amer Hassan’s trousers and T-shirt, unwashed. A dead man’s clothes lovingly folded in a doubled plastic bag.
Samuels’ company was worse than no company at all. The boy, a lanky blankness, came to him panicked with a message from HOSCO saying that inspectors would come to confirm compliance with the closure of the burn pits.
Rem asked Samuels to join him on a drive through the camp, and found the boy unsettled by the news because he didn’t want to return home. Rem didn’t press for details.
‘Your contract with HOSCO still runs for the next couple of months, but you’ll be working with Sutler, and he’ll organize what happens, and there’ll be more work if that’s what you want.’