Kill Zone

Clearly the mission had been dreamed up by people who had never served in a combat role. That made Kyle suspicious about whether the Marine commandant was really in the loop.

“As far as your commanding officer is concerned, you are going along on the mission to rescue General Middleton as a sniper for extra firepower. If everything goes smoothly, this other order is to be disregarded.”

“So what’s the job?”

Sam Shafer walked to a small desk on which lay his aluminum briefcase, and dialed the combination to open it. He handed Kyle a sealed white envelope. Swanson took it over to the porthole and read it in the bright light. The first thing he noticed was small blue printing across the top: THE WHITE HOUSE. The order took his breath away. He read it a second time. Same result. “Shit,” he said. “You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

“I assure you, Gunny Swanson, this is as serious as a dozen heart attacks.” Shafer was bluffing, but he knew Buchanan was not playing a game. The instructions, whatever they were, meant what they said.

“And if I refuse to carry out this order?”

“Then you will be held in isolation in the brig aboard this ship and we get somebody else to do the job. You are forbidden to discuss it with anyone. After the mission is over, you would be thrown out of the Marine Corps.”

“And if I do it, not only do I probably still get run out of the Marines, but maybe I also face a firing squad for having done such good work for the CIA. Fuck this.”

“Are you refusing the mission?”

“Let’s just say I have some big questions. For starters, I don’t know you. You haven’t shown me any identification, which leads me to believe you’re not CIA at all. So let’s start at the beginning, Mr. Smith. Who the hell are you?”

The civilian’s brown eyes went cold as he reached for his wallet and pulled out a laminated government identification card. His real name was Samuel Shafer and he worked at the White House as assistant to the National Security Advisor. That clicked, for the mission order was signed by Gerald Buchanan. Shafer was a messenger boy.

Kyle handed the order back to him. “Now I want you to tell me face-to-face, so there is no misunderstanding. What are my orders, Mr. Shafer?”

Shafer had a difficult time keeping a stone face and maintaining his glee. At last he got to see the order. When he read it, he was shocked, too, but buried the reaction to pretend he knew what was going on.

“Just what it says, Gunny. If things go wrong on this mission to rescue the general, you are instructed by the White House to shoot him dead.”

“And why would we want to do that?”

“We don’t want to do it at all.” Shafer was thinking on his feet. “Middleton is too valuable to stay in enemy hands. He knows too much about certain highly classified projects that are time-sensitive. We cannot risk him being made to talk. Too much is at stake to take the chance that the torturers may pull the information out of him. He knows that, too.”

“They wouldn’t get anything from Middleton,” Kyle said. “I hate his guts, but he’s a tough bird. He would die before giving up a secret.”

“Drugs and torture could leave him no choice. He would be interrogated in a hospital somewhere, with an IV drip in his arm and his mouth running like a motor. If we can’t bring him back, they cannot have him, either. Simple as that.” Swanson handed the letter back to Swanson. “Gunny, this is obviously a difficult assignment, but we have to put our country’s security first. It is a national security emergency.”

Swanson studied the authorization letter again. “If that’s so, why is the order signed by this guy Buchanan and not the President himself? You said he knows about it.”

“Are you being intentionally naive? Deniability. The President’s name can’t be on anything like this, even though this is the only copy and I’m going to destroy it right after you tell me whether you are taking the job or not. So, Gunny, time’s up. Consider that to be an order to you directly from your commander-in-chief. You in or out?”

Kyle paused, then walked away from Shafer, folding the letter and buying moments to think. Since there was no way the Marine commandant would be in on this, was the President’s involvement also a lie? Murdering a general was huge! But the order came straight from the White House. Swanson made a decision.

“Okay. I’ll do it, Mr. Shafer. But you’re not going to destroy this letter. We’ll have the captain put it in the ship’s safe until the mission is complete. If I have have to pull the trigger, the order is transferred into a secure safe under the control of the CIA director of operations. I won’t be left hanging out to dry with no way to prove I was following orders.”

Shafer reared. “Out of the question! Give me the letter, Gunny. I will burn it and then you go off and do your goddam job as you have been ordered to do.” He put on his angry face, raised his voice, and pissed Swanson off.

“No. The letter goes in the safe.”

They stared at each other for fifteen silent seconds and Shafer spun on the heel of a highly polished shoe. “I’m going to get a secure radio link back to the White House, and you will be ordered directly by senior civilian authority to surrender the letter to me. Take it from me, Gunny Swanson, you do NOT want to have that kind of conversation with Gerald Buchanan.”

Kyle moved to the desk and plopped into the seat. He shoved the telephone toward the visitor. “I’ll wait here for you, Mr. Smith. Patch the call to this extension.”

Shafer went through the hatchway and stormed down the corridor.

Swanson jumped up and found Double-Oh waiting outside. “Problem, Double-Oh. Catch up with that dude and lead him around for about ten minutes. He’s looking for the comm center, so steer him through the berthing areas or engineering spaces or whatever, then bring him back here. I’ll explain later.” The big guy took off after the angry civilian.

Kyle went the other way, down a ladder, and made his way aft to the little shop where the ship’s daily newsletter was printed. A yeoman was clicking the keyboard of a computer.

“You got a copying machine?” Swanson waved the folded letter.

The sailor didn’t reply, just pointed to a big beige box in a corner, a Xerox that would have been at home in any civilian business office. Kyle peeled back the flexible lid, pressed the letter flat, lowered the lid, and hit the green COPY button. After a brief hum and a flash of rolling light, the machine spit into a side tray a copy that was indistinguishable from the original. “Thanks,” he told the swabbie, who had not looked up from his computer. Back in the VIP suite, Swanson found an envelope in the center drawer of the desk, put in the original letter, and sealed it. The envelope went back into the drawer. He folded the copy just as the original had been folded, and laid it on the desk.

Within two minutes, Double-Oh delivered the exasperated Sam Shafer back into the room, where Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson was standing at a sharp parade rest position. Shafer closed the door, his face red with anger, but before he could speak, Kyle did, very formally.

“Sir. I have reconsidered my position. I was confused about the chain of command, but if you were willing to get Mr. Buchanan on the horn, then this order is obviously valid. Therefore, I apologize and accept the mission, although with reluctance.”

Shafer, having won the point, calmed down. He was back in control and oozed White House power. “And the order?”

Swanson pointed to the paper. He did not want to allow Shafer too much time to examine it. “Right here, sir. Burn it and get it over with. It would be best for me that it is never seen again.”

Shafer placed the paper in a large ashtray and took out a cigarette lighter, and a quick flame nibbled the corner, then fire ate the entire page. Shafer took the ashes into the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet.

“When will you be returning to Washington, sir?” Kyle asked.

“As soon as they can launch me. I’ve been assigned a two-seat F-16 for this trip,” he said.

Swanson gave him a sharp salute. “Yes, sir. Have a good trip back, sir.”

“And good luck to you, Gunny. I know this is a tough one.” He extended his hand and Swanson shook it, then stepped outside as Shafer left. Double-Oh had been waiting, and after Kyle retrieved the letter, they went to get some coffee and find a quiet corner.

“You ain’t going to believe this shit,” Swanson told his friend, and Double-Oh didn’t, until Kyle gave him the envelope for safekeeping. “Now I have you as a witness and the original letter, and Mr.