a house in Coronado and is waiting for you to finish your tour over here. She's a nice girl, man.'
Chad walked over and settled down on the bunker floor next to Guy. 'Yeah. She's a nice girl, alright.'
Guy put his book down and sat up. 'She must be lonely there.'
Chad shook his head. 'She's got her cousin and her cousin's husband staying with her. So she's got company.'
'Are you two getting married when you get back?'
'I don't know,' Chad said. He looked at his buddy. 'I'm really confused about how I feel about her.'
Guy raised his eyebrows. 'What's the problem, man? She's a real doll. You must be a babe magnet to get a girl like her. She could be one of them supermodels.'
'I've known her all my life,' Chad said. 'I always had a big crush on her when we were kids, and we started going steady in prep school.'
'Oh, yeah,' Guy said. 'You didn't go to a regular high school, did you?'
Chad shook his head. 'It was a private high school. She and I were day students because we lived close. That was when I became quite fond of her in a romantic way.'
Guy chuckled. 'You really express yourself funny at times.'
Chad grinned. 'I know. At any rate, I was a year ahead of her and went to Yale while she finished her senior year. Well, to make a long story short, she threw me over for a jock. It shook me up bad, so I joined the Navy.'
'That's right!' Guy said. 'When you ran into her over here you two hadn't seen each other for a long time.' He showed an expression of puzzlement. 'Wait a minute! You two was getting along great, as I recall. And in a 'romantic way,' as you would say with such sophistication.'
'She had dumped the guy and decided I was the one she wanted all along.'
'What the hell's the problem, buddy?' Guy exclaimed. 'You turned out to be the best man after all.'
'Yeah,' Chad said, getting to his feet. 'But . . .' He stopped speaking for a moment. 'I guess I'm emotionally flummoxed about the whole affair.'
'I'm not sure I know what you're talking about,' Guy said. 'You sound like you're uncertain about how you feel about her.'
'Yeah.'
Chad walked over to his own area and sat down on the mattress, staring out the bunker entrance. Guy noticed he hadn't opened the letter; it was almost as if he dreaded reading it. Chad didn't seem to be exactly disturbed, but he wasn't relaxed and at ease either.
It's gonna be real interesting to see how all that works out when we get back to Coronado, Guy thought. He settled down and turned his attention back to his Western.
.
STATION BRAVO, BAHRAIN
BARRI PRISON
23 JULY 1000 HOURS
SERGEANT Arjumand Allawi sat in a chair outside the office door, working hard at trying to appear nonchalant. He was from an Army Reserve Military Police unit in Buffalo, New York, and had been in his present position as a guard at Barri Prison for nine months.
He had grown up bilingual, speaking both Arabic and English, acquiring fluency in both languages with the ease of all youngsters exposed to a multicultural environment. Both his parents were from Syria and were well established in the local Islamic community in Buffalo. The family had an ethnic grocery store that sold all sorts of canned and packaged foods from the Middle East. They even stocked soft drinks and fruit juice that most customers purchased for sentimental reasons rather than for any superiority over American products.
The door next to him opened, and Allawi turned to see Fred Leighton looking out at him. Allawi always thought there was something weird about the guy; he wore BDUs like everybody else, but he sported no unit or rank insignia on the uniform. Rumors abounded about who he might really be, the suppositions ranging from a CIA agent to an operative of the Saudi Arabian intelligence service. Those who heard him speak Arabic noted it was flawless, with an exotic sort of accent.
Leighton finally spoke after a moment of staring at Allawi. 'Come in.'
Allawi walked into the office, noting there was a desk in the center rear of the room, and a table and chairs off to the side. That was where he was directed with curt gestures. Leighton walked around and sat down. He didn't say anything for almost a full minute. Allawi was annoyed. 'I'm not gonna stand here all fucking day, dude.'
'You'll do what I tell you,' Leighton said.
'You don't show any rank, pal,' Allawi said. 'So unless you produce a fucking ID card that shows you're an E- Six or above, I'm not taking any shit off you.'
'Sit down.'
Allawi obeyed, noting there was something about Leighton that was far, far out of the ordinary. 'So what do you want?'
'You're a reservist from Buffalo, New York, right?'
'Right,' Allawi said.
'And you attend Nijmi-min-Islam mosque in that city, do you not?'
'Well,' Allawi said, 'I've attended services there, but I'm really not religious. I went because my father insisted. You know how old folks can be about stuff like that. I haven't been inside the place in a couple of years.'
'You were there about six times last year in the week of the second to the eighth of May,' Leighton said.
Cold fear gripped Allawi like ice water thrown over him.
'And you've been present at the house of Askary Shareef on many occasions,' Leighton stated in a matter-of- fact tone. 'Why?'
'Well, y'know, I went there, y'know, with friends,' Allawi said. 'Some guys I knew were invited, and they asked me to come along. It was social. Just sitting around and talking.'
'What were you talking about?'
'Hey, am I in some kind of trouble here?' Allawi said in nervous anger. 'Just in case, I want a lawyer. Understand? I'm not going to sit here and go through a third degree.'
'Yeah, you will.'
The tone in Leighton's voice was one of finality, clout, and power. Here was a man who, for whatever reason or authority, could go far beyond the norm of legality and not have to worry about it.
'Let's just wait a minute,' Allawi said. 'This is getting too weird.'
'You like to talk to the prisoners, don't you?' Leighton asked, ignoring his statement.
'Well, yeah, it's always in the line of duty,' Allawi said. 'Well, sometimes I do some chitchat, y'know. It's a normal thing.' He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
'I believe it's called communication.'
'Who do you talk to after your chitchats with the prisoners?'
'I don't know what you mean,' Allawi said.
'I'll be more explicit,' Leighton said. 'When you pick up information from the prisoners, who do you pass it on to?'
'I have no idea where this is leading.'
'I'll be even more explicit,' Leighton said. 'Who did you tell about the two prisoners Hamza Qazi and Rahmat Nahayan and their buddy who was bitten by a cobra? I'm really interested in hearing about the guy who was snake-bit while he was an EPW. Now, who was it you passed that information on to? And why?'
'Look, whoever you are, I'm not putting up with this shit, understand?'
'Now let me explain something to you, Sergeant Allawi,' Leighton said in a very calm tone of voice. 'You can either be cooperative here or somewhere a lot worse. If you're not careful you're gonna end up so deep in the federal prison system they'll have to pump fresh air and sunshine in to you.'
Allawi glared back defiantly.
CHAPTER 12
SEAL BASE CAMP
