Icarus’s eyes darted around the interior of the Hummer. “We’re the only ones here?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Goose hesitated, letting the silence draw out till it became threatening. In the distance, truck engines whined and men shouted.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Goose said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
Icarus laughed, but there was no mirth in the effort. Instead, he sounded bitter. “I can’t tell you everything, First Sergeant. If I did, I’d have to kill you.”
“That,” Goose said, “would be a mistake to try.”
Icarus looked at him. “Do you know why I approached you in the bar? Why I helped you with those wounded men this morning during the attack?”
Goose waited. Men who were at a disadvantage had a tendency to talk during gaps of silence.
“Because I saw something in you that I thought I could trust,” Icarus said.
Goose still said nothing.
“I need someone I can talk to.” Icarus’s statement was plain, without inflection, but his reddened eyes looked haunted. “But you have to know that the minute I say what I have to say, your life will be forever changed.”
The solemnity with which the man announced his claim created a chill in Goose’s stomach.
“Have you met the CIA agents yet?” Icarus asked. “They were watching you.”
“We’ve met,” Goose said.
“You’ve talked to Special Agent-in-Charge Alexander Cody?”
“Yeah.” Goose decided to throw his prisoner a bone. “We didn’t exactly get along.”
A pained smile twisted Icarus’s lips. “Even under the best circumstances, Cody isn’t a good man. These circumstances we’re under right now? These are as bad as they can be.”
Goose waited.
“Why didn’t you turn me over to them?” Icarus asked.
“I may still.”
Icarus nodded. “If you do, they will kill me.” He paused. “You know that, don’t you?”
“No.”
“They will.”
“Maybe they’ve got reason,” Goose said. “I’m not overly fond of you after the bomb threat.”
Icarus gazed at the canteen lying in the passenger seat. “Haven’t we talked enough yet?”
Without a word, Goose picked up the canteen, opened it, and poured water into Icarus’s mouth. The man drank greedily, then had a coughing fit and spewed water over the rear deck.
“Sorry,” Icarus apologized.
That small thing, an unconscious social amenity, made Goose feel horrible about what he was doing. Still, he steeled himself. This guy knows what happened to Chris and the others who disappeared. You can’t cut him any slack. You need answers.
Goose capped the canteen and put it away again. “Why does Cody want to kill you?”
“Because I know too much. I learned more than they ever expected me to. I wasn’t supposed to live after they blew my cover to the PKK.”
The announcement caught Goose by surprise. “The CIA blew your cover to the terrorists?”
Icarus grinned. “Yes.” He shook his head in wonder, then sighed in exasperation. “You don’t know anything about what you’ve gotten involved with, do you, First Sergeant?”
“Cody talked with Captain Remington,” Goose said. “Cody persuaded the captain to send me and my team after you.”
“Only because the PKK didn’t kill me instantly. That’s what Cody was hoping for, you see. I did the job they sent me into the terrorist cells to do, but they hadn’t counted on my finding out the things they were doing. Once my cover was blown, Cody and his team couldn’t allow me to end up in Syrian hands. If you’d turned me over to them, Cody would have killed me and buried me as soon as we were out of sight.”
“All I hear right now is a lot of lip service. Make me a believer.”
Icarus grinned. “It’s ironic that you should say that, First Sergeant, because making believers is what this is all about.” He paused. “How much time do you think we have?”
“I don’t know,” Goose said.
“Your captain doesn’t know you have me, does he?”
“Not yet.”
“You and Remington are supposed to be close.”
“We are,” Goose said and felt guilty instantly. “Cal Remington is like a brother to me.”
“You must not have any brothers.”
The man’s words bit into Goose. After he’d been born, his mother hadn’t been able to have any more children. Only a few years later, she’d died from a degenerative heart condition that wasn’t discovered till she was already gone. He and his father had struggled through alone.
“I’m sorry,” Icarus said. “I can see I touched a nerve.”
“Get to it,” Goose growled.
“Why doesn’t the captain know I’m here?”
Goose hesitated. “Because we’ve got different agendas.”
“Are you going to turn me over to Remington after we finish talking?” Goose didn’t answer.
Icarus rolled over and lay more or less on his back, partially propped up by his bound wrists. “I need to know, First Sergeant.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Then holding me here, finding out what I’m worth, isn’t about career advancement?”
Goose struggled, trying to figure how best to answer the question. A quiet calm descended over him, like during those times he’d talked with Bill Townsend. You’ve got nothing to lose with the truth.
“I’ve got a son,” Goose said. “His name is Chris. He’s five years old.”
Icarus’s eyes locked on Goose’s. “Chris has disappeared.”
The pain Goose felt nearly swelled his throat shut. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“And you thought I might know something about that.”
Goose felt a single tear run down his cheek. He didn’t try to hide it, didn’t try to brush it away. “I love my boy. I want him back.”
“God help you find peace, First Sergeant,” Icarus said. “I can’t help you with that. No man on this planet can help you get your son back.”
Anger returned to Goose full force. He felt shamed that he had revealed his weakness to his prisoner. He struggled to find words, to make his voice work again in spite of his tight throat.
Silence stretched between them for a long time, punctuated by the rumbling trucks in the distance and the noise of Goose’s radio headset.
“If I could help you,” Icarus said finally, “I would.”
Without a word, Goose slipped his combat knife from his LCE and leaned across the seats. Icarus drew back from him. Roughly,
