Gurung returned and informed Tucker than Mr. Allstrong was on the way. The next car at the gate finally got approval and moved on into the compound. The raiding party seemed to have stopped for the moment at the back line of the neighborhood buildings. Tucker took the opportunity to ask Gurung about the dogs.
'I'm sorry?' The unfailingly polite guard shrugged.
'The bomb-sniffing dogs. I would assume they would be here at the gate, checking the cars. The trunks.'
'No. I haven't seen these dogs yet. Perhaps soon.' Still smiling, the soul of cooperation, Gurung asked to be excused for a moment. He went over to Bishta, and after a short conversation, the two men went and had a few words with their other two colleagues. Almost immediately, they stepped away from the next car in the line and waved it through the gate. And then the next. And the next. The line was starting to move.
Tucker watched for a minute, then stepped in front of the next car up, holding up his hand to stop it. The driver laid on his horn, but Tucker kept his hand up where it was, holding him back. 'Mr. Gurung!' he yelled out. 'What's happening now? You've kept these people sitting here for hours and now you're just letting them in?'
This finally brought a disturbed frown to Gurung's face. 'Mr. Bishta said you told him the line should be moving faster.'
'Yes, but, well…you don't just wave 'em in now, for Christ's sake! You still gotta get their papers and check the cars. Maybe you get some Iraqis down here, at least a translator, somebody who can speak Arabic. You get your bomb-sniffing dogs…'
Gurung's expression changed in the middle of the tirade. His focus went to someplace out over Tucker's shoulder and then suddenly he was walking away across the parade ground to intercept Jack Allstrong, who was jogging up. The two men stopped maybe twenty yards from where Tucker stood. After a short exchange of words, Allstrong put a quick, reassuring hand on Gurung's shoulder and then went past him as he strode toward the gate.
At this moment, Tucker, still in the middle of the road, holding up the flow of traffic, got another blast from the horn of the car in front of him. By now truly enraged, he put his hand onto his sidearm and pointed the index finger of his other hand at the car's driver-the warning explicit and eloquent.
Behind him, he heard Allstrong's relaxed voice. 'Maybe you want to step out of the way and let my men do their job, Major.'
Tucker whirled on him. 'How can they do their job and question these people when they don't speak the language?' he said. Without pause, he went on, pointing to the commando team, now hard up against the back of one of the buildings. 'But before anything else, you've got to call those men off. They can't conduct an offensive sweep.'
Allstrong glanced over to them. 'We were being fired on, Major. It's defensive. We have to protect ourselves, and we have every right to.'
'Your men here tell me that nothing's been hit. Which makes me doubt there was much of an attack.'
Allstrong pulled himself up to his full height, his usually affable expression suddenly harsh. 'Maybe you missed the mortar attacks last month, Major, that punched holes as big as Volkswagens into the runways out here and killed four of my workers and wounded twenty more. Or the rifle fire that shot my office up and, oh yeah, killed another two of my guys.' It was Allstrong's turn to point to the low-lying buildings. 'That neighborhood over there is a breeding ground for attacks on this airport, and it's my job to stop them.'
Tucker stuck his chin out. 'There's no attack going on now, Allstrong. You either call your men back or I swear to God I'll personally intervene with Calliston and even your buddy Ramsdale to cut your funding off. We don't need wildcat contractors playing cowboys out here. You play by the rules or you don't play at all.'
By this time, Gurung had come up near them. Allstrong glanced again at his commandos, then nodded to his employee. 'Radio them to come on back in,' he said. 'Fight's over for today.' Then, back to Tucker, 'But that isn't why you came out here.'
'No, it's not. I came here to inspect what our money's being used for. You realize that your gate guards here don't speak Arabic? How are they supposed to get information from these drivers when they don't speak the language?'
Allstrong shook his head. 'These men are British-trained Gurkha guards, Major, the pride of Nepal. They're completely capable of handling this mission. I've tried hiring locals a few times and you know what happens? They either steal my shit or they don't show up, or both. They're afraid if they take a job with me, their families will get killed, and they're not all wrong. My guys are thorough and they get the job done. If it's a little slower than American standards, well, excuse me all to hell, but we're in a war here.'
'What about the dogs? The bomb-sniffing dogs?'
'What about them? We're still training them. I've got sixty trainers and a hundred dogs working full-time out behind the terminals. When they're ready, I'll put 'em all to work. Meanwhile, again, I go with my guys.'
'I'm going to want to see your kennels. And your fleet of trucks and cars that we've coughed up the money for. In fact, you can just look on my visit here today as an unannounced, informal audit to see if we've got to come back with a full-on inspection. I've got preapproval both from Calliston and the Inspector General of the Army.'
'Good for you.' Allstrong backed away a step and crossed his arms over his chest. 'But I'm afraid I can't allow you inside the compound.'
'The hell you can't.'
'You watch me, Major. You're forgetting that I don't work for the Army. My contract is with the Coalition Provisional Authority. Jerry Bremer, through Kevin Ramsdale. I don't hear a Calliston in there, do you? Or a Tucker. And my bosses are happy enough with the job I'm doing that I'm getting almost more work than I can keep up with. So, look. You want to check up on me, clear it with Ramsdale. I've got nothing to hide, but I'm not showing my books to anybody who doesn't have permission to see them. So thanks all to hell for your interest, Major, but I'm afraid this trip's going to turn out to be a waste of your time.' He turned to his worker. 'Mr. Gurung, Major Tucker is not to enter the compound today or any other day without my permission. Is that clear?'
Gurung nodded. 'Yes, sir.'
Tucker glared at Allstrong. 'I'm going to go to Ramsdale, and even Bremer if I have to,' he said. 'If I were you, Allstrong, I'd get my books in order. I'm going to be back with all the authority I need. You just wait.'
'I'll look forward to it. Meanwhile, you have a nice drive back to Baghdad, Major. And keep your head down.' Allstrong broke his trademark smile. 'You never know.'
Ron Nolan had arrived back in the compound earlier that same day, and now he and Evan Scholler sat on the steps to the chow trailer. A few minutes of natural sunlight remained in the hot August evening. Dust from the afternoon winds hung in the air, smearing it yellowish-brown.
'Dude,' Nolan said. 'I'm telling you. She's moved on. You ought to do the same.'
Evan didn't argue with Nolan this time about whether or not he'd have another Budweiser. He'd already had three-cans this time, not bottles. He popped the top and lifted the next cold one to his lips. He wiped foam from his lips. 'Was there anybody else?'
'What? You mean with her? Did I see anybody? Haven't we been through this already? No.' Nolan took a pull from his can. 'But we're talking about a total time in her presence of about three minutes, all of it at the door to her apartment trying to get her to just take the damn letter. If there was some guy inside with her, I didn't see him.'
'So maybe-'
But Nolan cut him off. 'Maybe nothing, Evan, don't do this to yourself. You had to see her face-great face, by the way, so I know where you're coming from and you've got my sympathy-but if you'd seen her face you wouldn't have any doubts. She didn't want anything to do with you or that letter. You want to hear it again? She says, 'I'm not going to read it.' And I go, 'You don't have to read it, but I promised Evan I'd get you to take it from my hands. You can do that, can't you?' So she goes, 'I'm just going to throw it away.' And I go, 'That's your call, but I've got to give this to you.' So she takes it, says thanks, and looking straight into my eyes, she rips the envelope in half.'
Evan sipped beer and blew out a breath. 'Fuckin'-A.'
'Right. I agree, it's a bitch. But, hey, the good news is you don't have to wonder anymore.' Nolan hesitated, sipped his beer, shot a sideways glance across the steps. 'I don't know if you want to hear this, my friend, but I've got to tell you or you'll never know. She put a move on me too.' Holding out a restraining hand, Nolan hurried on.
