OP-CENTER
'Mike, you don't need my wife over there. You can have her link up with the Spanish soldiers, and she can brief them. Then you can ask them to ship her the hell out. They can handle this thing with our other two people.'
'It's not that simple,' Rodgers said.
'It can be.'
'There's more to this than just manpower,' Rodgers insisted. 'We need to buy time. Someone has to get to Dhamballa and convince him to release Father Bradbury. If not, the Spanish may go in there shooting. They need to discourage other attempts on missionaries.'
'Why can't Aideen or Battat carry that message?' meCaskey asked.
'They can,' Rodgers said. 'But we also need someone to keep the Spaniards away from the camp.'
'Then I'm really confused, Mike, because I'm doing the math, and you're not making sense,' McCaskey said. 'Aideen does one job, Battat does the other. You said they're capable. Maria goes home. It's easy.'
'It's easier with three people than with two,' Rodgers said. 'And I owe it to Aideen and Battat to give them all the support I can. They're the ones at the front line. Besides, Maria is not going to come home before her mission is completed. She just won't do that.'
'She might, for me,' McCaskey said. 'If not, maybe she'll do it for you. When the Spanish get to Maria, you can order her back.'
'I just told you I won't do that,' Rodgers said. 'Not unless I know she's in danger.'
'Screw the job for just a minute, Mike!' McCaskey implored. 'We're talking about my wife!'
'I understand that, Darrell-'
'Christ, do you know I haven't even seen her since we got married!' McCaskey said. 'She was coming here to be with me, not to go to Africa. You want to talk about owing someone something? You owed me that courtesy.'
'I owed you?' Rodgers said. 'For what?'
'For friendship,' McCaskey said.
MISSION OF HONOR
327
'Friendship has nothing to do with this,' Rodgers said. 'We needed an agent. Maria is a damn fine one. End of story.'
'No, Mike, the story is just getting started-'
'Not for me, it isn't,' Rodgers insisted. 'Whether Maria broke a promise to you, I don't know. Whether you should have ever asked for that kind of promise, I also don't know. Whether Bob and I should have talked to you first was a judgment call. Unfortunately, we didn't have a lot of time for back and forth. What I do know is that this matter is between you and your wife. And you can talk to her when she gets back.'
'That's your answer?' McCaskey asked.
'Pretty much,' Rodgers said.
' Tm only doing my job'?' McCaskey said.
'Yeah. And don't make it sound dirty,' Rodgers warned. 'You're really starting to piss me off.'
'I'm pissing you off?' McCaskey said. He felt like throwing a punch. 'We've been through the wars down here for nearly eight years. We've gone through crises, personal and professional losses, all kinds of shit. Now I need a friend and a favor, and I can't get either.'
'That's bullshit. Ask me anything else, and I'll do it,' Rodgers said. 'But not this. I need the assets I have.'
' 'Assets,' ' McCaskey said. 'You sound like Joseph Goddamn Stalin throwing peasants against trained German troops.'
'Darrell, I'm going to let that slide,' Rodgers said. 'It'll be safer for us both.' Rodgers came around the desk. 'Excuse me.'
'Sure,' McCaskey said. He didn't step aside. 'Go to Pope Paul. He'll absolve you. He'll give you a shot of that 'for the cause' crap. He'll say the job comes first, and you're doing the right thing keeping Maria in the field. Me? I care more about the lives of my teammates than the life of a priest who knew the risks of the work he was doing. Who wasn't even our responsibility in the first place!'
Rodgers walked around McCaskey. McCaskey grabbed his arm. Rodgers glared at him. ^
McCaskey released him, not because he was afraid, but because beating each other bloody was not going to get Maria home.
'Mike, please,' McCaskey said.
Rodgers looked at him. His gaze was softer now. 'Darrell, you think I don't care about our people?'
'I don't know,' McCaskey said. 'I honestly don't know.'
Rodgers stepped right up to McCaskey. McCaskey could not remember seeing such a look of betrayal in someone's eyes.
'Say it again, Darrell,' Rodgers demanded. 'Tell me again that I don't care about them. That I didn't care about Bass Moore or Charlie Squires or Sondra DeVonne and Walter Pupshaw and Pat Prementine and the other people I lost in Kashmir. I want to hear it when you're not yelling. I want to hear it when you're actually thinking about what's coming from your mouth.'
