We’ll have time to get into position.” He smiled. “There’s something you’re forgetting, though.”
Remington didn’t ask.
“Most of Syria is Muslim. Doubtless, they are watching these proceedings on television. In the Koran, it says that the spirits of soldiers who fall in holy battle will immediately go to heaven and be granted special privileges for their sacrifice.” Mkchian looked out on the stream where the baptisms continued. “Those Syrian soldiers will see this, and they will think that these men are preparing to make that same sacrifice.” He looked back at Remington. “The Syrian soldiers will fear us more for this. They will be afraid because they will think we will know no fear.”
The song coming from the men standing in the lines swelled to fill the tense silence that stretched between the two captains.
Turning away, Remington fixed Goose with his gaze. “This is your fault, Goose. You should never have let this go this far. You stay with these people until this is finished.”
“Sir,” Goose objected, “I should be back at the base.”
Remington cut him off. “You should. When this is finished, if you decide you want to be a Ranger again, you come back then.”
Before Goose could even attempt a reply, Remington turned and walked away. He boarded the RSOV and didn’t look back as the vehicle headed back toward the Ranger encampment.
Goose felt torn. He couldn’t disobey an order, but he didn’t feel right. He needed to be at the Ranger base to make certain everything was getting done.
“Your captain,” Mkchian said, “is making a mistake by punishing you this way.”
“I knew he wouldn’t want the baptisms going on,” Goose replied. “I should have stopped them.”
Mkchian gazed at him in open speculation. “Then why didn’t you?”
For a moment Goose thought the Turkish captain was faulting him as well. Then he saw that Mkchian’s gaze was open and honest, without challenge or accusation.
“I didn’t stop it,” Goose said, “because it felt right.”
Mkchian tapped Goose on the chest. “God has touched your heart, too, First Sergeant Gander. No matter how much pain you have to go through to endure, you will be a better man for it. You cannot avoid His touch.”
“I don’t know, sir. I could have been mistaken about this whole thing.”
Mkchian pointed his chin at the men being baptized. “If you are, there are a lot of men with you.” He looked back at Goose. “In the meantime, you should know that you have made a powerful enemy today.”
Goose shook his head. “The captain’s angry, but he’s my friend. Not an enemy.”
“Sometimes they are both, Sergeant. Just be careful.”
Goose tried to find something to say to defend Remington. They had been friends for years. They would be friends forever. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Mkchian.
“In the meantime, though,” the Turkish captain said, “know that you have my friendship. For what it’s worth.” He extended his hand.
“It’s worth a lot,” Goose said, taking the other man’s hand. “I don’t take friendships lightly.”
“Nor do I. God keep you, First Sergeant Gander, for I fear you and I have only begun to see the horrific things that are in store for us.” Mkchian released his hand and walked back to his Jeep.
“God keep you, Captain.” Goose stared after the Jeep. Unease stirred through his mind, leavening his thoughts and building with each passing second. He was concerned about his relationship with Remington. The captain had been mad at him before, even back when they had both been sergeants, but they had never been in circumstances like these. He’d never seen Remington take things so personally.
Mkchian’s final thoughts were very disturbing as well. The man had sounded sure of himself, like he knew what was coming and it was more than just the hasty withdrawal from the Syrian front. And whatever it was, Goose had the definite feeling that it was much, much worse.
32
United States of America
Washington Dulles International Airport,
Washington D.C.
Local Time 5:43 P.M.
From the instant Delroy Harte left the helipad aboard USS Wasp in the Mediterranean Sea and flown west, time turned backward. In Turkey, the clock had moved forward into tomorrow, and the local time there was 0043. He knew that because as he arrived in the restricted airspace over Washington, he realized he’d forgotten to set his watch to local time.
But in the nation’s capital, the time was 5:43 P.M., and harsh afternoon sunlight poured through the jet’s windows. He’d flown for over fourteen hours, in the helicopter from Wasp to the C-9 Skytrain Captain Falkirk had requisitioned for him at Sigonella Naval Air Station in Sicily, Italy. The navy primarily used the Skytrain for cargo and passenger transportation as well as forward deployment logistic support.
Delroy closed his father’s Bible gently, pulling the cloth bookmark into place in the book of Revelation. During the long flight he had slept off and on. He’d eaten, too, but the skeleton crew had left him alone.
Large enough to seat 115 commercial passengers, the C-9 was presently set up with half its space allotted to cargo and the other half to passengers. Delroy was the only passenger. It felt odd to be sitting on an empty plane.
Once, about halfway through the flight, he had awakened to find himself alone. He’d remembered how Chief Mellencamp’s body had disappeared with him sitting right beside it and how he and the other crewmen aboard Wasp sorted through the piles of clothing left throughout the ship’s decks after the disappearances. For a moment, he’d thought everyone had vanished from the Skytrain.
Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case.
The pilot’s cabin opened and a young lieutenant stepped through. Usually the C-9 carried only two pilots and necessary attendants. Evidently this flight was carrying three pilots; this man wasn’t one of the two Delroy had seen since the last leg
