Kicked free by the steel-toed boots he wore, muddy clods of dirt skidded downhill. For a moment Goose was afraid the dirt would crash across the top of the building below and alert everyone inside, but it tumbled into the space between the building’s back wall and the hill.
A moment later, Goose put his foot down on the roof of one of the buildings and took up a position in the shadows. Most of the Syrian guards around the building were more interested in staying out of the rain than in security.
“Go,” he called up.
Instantly, nine rappelling lines snaked down the hillside, followed immediately by nine Rangers dressed the same as Goose. Like him, they also carried suppressed MP5s as their lead weapon.
Goose gave hand signals, breaking the squad into the two predesignated five-man teams, taking charge of one himself. He stayed along the edge of the building where the support was strongest so there would be less chance of making any noise.
Movement caught his attention as he neared the edge of the rooftop. He threw out a hand, signaled, and brought the four men behind him to a stop, spread out on their stomachs on the roof.
Slithering forward on his belly, sliding easily due to the rain, Goose peered down at the Syrian soldier walking patrol below him. Taking shelter against the side of the building, the man reached under his raincoat and took out a pack of cigarettes.
From twenty-five feet over the man’s head, Goose saw that the lighter the Syrian soldier used was a Zippo and knew that it had probably come from one of the dead American or European soldiers who had been left at the border. He stilled the immediate surge of anger, going cold and placid inside.
He also knew the second half of his team was moving into position and expecting his team to do the same. Glancing back at the Ranger behind him, Goose signaled again, then shrugged out of his M-4A1 and MP5. He took off the NVGs. The other Ranger took Goose’s assault rifle, machine pistol, and the goggles.
Slipping his Ka-Bar fighting knife from his calf sheath, Goose held it point down along his right forearm, then slithered over the side of the building. He hung by his left arm, made certain the Syrian soldier still faced away from him, and dropped to the ground behind him.
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 1419 Hours
After lunch, when the trial reconvened, Major Trimble declared that the opposing counsel’s case was finished. Benbow had asked to reserve the right to bring Megan back on cross-examination, and Colonel Erickson had granted that.
For the last hour and ten minutes, Benbow had called people forth from his meager witness list. They were soldiers who had served with Private Boyd Fletcher, men who had seen his excessive drinking binges as well as his temper.
But none of them had ever seen him mistreat Gerry.
Megan sat beside Benbow, keeping quiet and hoping she looked sane, not like the raving, plotting, egomaniacal lunatic Trimble had tried to make her out to be. She didn’t think that was working. Several members of the jury kept looking at her as if they expected an alien to jump out of her skin or something.
The idea was so much like something Chris would have suggested that she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Neither one of those things, she knew, would be especially good, and both of them together might well have been the kiss of death.
She was also apprehensive about Jenny and her father. The corporal hadn’t had any more information than he’d given them. Only that her father had been involved in some type of traffic accident. Jenny had left immediately, saying she would call as soon as she knew something. More than enough time had passed for her to find something out.
Halfway through yet another repetitive testimony of a soldier who had served with Boyd Fletcher, one of the MPs working security in the courtroom walked up and gave Colonel Erickson a piece of paper.
The colonel read the paper, then motioned to Benbow.
Benbow approached the bench and talked briefly. The judge declared a five-minute recess, and Benbow walked by the table where Megan sat. “Stay here,” the young lieutenant said. “Maybe we caught a break. I’ll be right back.”
Megan waited, fidgeting under the gaze of the jury and the audience.
Just shy of five minutes later, Benbow returned to the courtroom pushing a media cart.
“Lieutenant Benbow?” the colonel asked. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“It’s part of a testimony,” Benbow said. “I’ve got a VHS tape here that I want Mrs. Gander to verify the authenticity of.”
“This is irregular,” the colonel declared.
“Yes, sir,” Benbow said. “Major Trimble seems to have pushed us very deeply into irregular. I’m going to try to bring us back on track. If you’ll permit me.”
“Permit what?” Trimble demanded.
“To show you what happened on that building rooftop the night of March first,” Benbow said.
Trimble turned toward Colonel Erickson. “Sir, this is preposterous.”
“Major, with all due respect,” Benbow said, “you’re the one who accused Mrs. Gander of taking advantage of Gerry Fletcher’s disappearance and setting herself up to play messiah. You opened this line of inquiry during your direct of Mrs. Gander. I’m just following up on it on cross.”
Erickson looked at both men, then leaned back in his chair. “I’ll allow it.”
“Colonel,” Trimble protested.
“Sit down, Major,” Erickson said. “I allowed you your leeway when you pursued your investigation. Lieutenant Benbow is only following in the path you prepared. I’ll allow it.”
Trimble looked fit to be tied.
“And I’ll not expect one more word of protest, Major.”
Trimble sat, but he looked as petulant as a child who hadn’t gotten his way.
Megan felt curious and threatened at the same
