decided to let it go for a while. Leaning back, both hands beneath his chin, he mused about the situation.
At length, he decided not to second-guess his field commander from the comfort of the nation’s capital.
As he watched his effusive staffers, Michael Derringer defaulted to his commanding officer programming. Yes, there was reason for gratitude, but not for celebration. In a way, the operation was similar to so many Vietnam episodes: a mission with a specific purpose had turned into an SAR exercise. The search-and-rescue phase was successful but the enemy was still out there — still undetected. He had been engaged and defeated tactically, but the strategic objective remained unmet.
Ali was happy to see Kassim.
And angry.
“I told you not to go,” the doctor intoned. “You defied me.”
Kassim was prepared. “In fact, Doctor, you prohibited me from the first operation, not the second.”
Ali grunted, acknowledging the truth of the matter but mentally sneering at the lawyerly evasion. “You were devilishly lucky to escape, Kassim. I have told you that I cannot spare you. I do not expect it to happen again.”
The veteran fighter accepted the mild rebuke with a slightly bowed head. Two seconds later he locked eyes. “We were within meters of her, Doctor! Meters!”
“The men we lost would have been worthwhile had they seized her, but they did not. What do you make of that?”
“It was not a lack of courage or desire, Doctor. The woman chose her position well. We would have needed twice as many men at the crest to kill or capture her.”
That was not quite true. Kassim knew that if he had been at the peak, he might have directed a successful enfilade. Given the strength of her position, it would have been difficult to capture her, but at least she would have been dead.
The Syrian was not given to self-pity for the foot he left in Afghanistan. But once in awhile he had reason to rue its loss.
Kassim decided to change the subject. “Doctor, what should we do now?”
Ali sat back and sipped his tea. “I have been thinking of your friend — Sial? It is time for me to meet him and his son and nephew.”
“I shall arrange it.”
Ali called after his colleague. “Kassim! It must be done quickly. We may have little time, and I must arrange for travel plans and documents.”
Kassim knew from experience that the doctor seldom allowed himself to be overtaken by events. Most likely the passports were already forged, only awaiting the couriers’ photographs and signatures. As for airlines, Ali frequently made contingency reservations just to keep options open. It was a simple matter to cancel or provide alternative passengers as a continuing check on security measures.
Few opportunities were ever lost, if one knew how to exploit them.
Leopole knocked on the door at the Serena Hotel, a four-star establishment in the cantonment area. Briefly he wondered at Omar’s largesse in lodging CPS in such luxurious digs, but the onetime marine could not begrudge the Briton a couple of nights to recover. There was certainly no lack of dining options: a Chinese restaurant, barbeque, and coffee shop.
Proper ladies did not dine alone, so tonight Leopole had the duty.
The door opened and CPS smiled broadly. “Frank. Please come in.”
He returned the grin. “Wow. If I may say so, Doctor, you slick up really nice.”
She stepped back and let him in. “Well, thank you, Colonel. Of course, a black dress does contrast with baggy trousers and a vest.”
Leopole fingered his blue blazer. “I only brought this because I thought I might have to meet with some defense ministry people.” He laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I wore a tie. Must’ve been a wedding or a funeral.”
Padgett-Smith pondered the American’s appearance. His beard was gone but the mustache remained, and his haircut, while not high and tight, screamed “military.” She had learned that some men appeared uniformed regardless of what they wore. Like Tony.
“Carolyn, I’d like to talk to you just a bit before we go down to dinner.”
She sat on the sofa. “Surely.” She knew what was coming.
He sat opposite her, across the glass table, and leaned forward, hands clasped on his knees. “I don’t want to discuss company business in the restaurant, so it’s best done here.” He cleared his throat. She thought:
“Carolyn, do you really want to stay with us?”
She blinked. “You mean, complete my assignment?”
“Yes.”
“Well… of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”
Leopole spread his hands-a helpless male gesture. “After what you’ve been through, and no end in sight, I just wondered if you’d like to be released from your contract.”
“No, of course not.” She recalled the conversation that had gotten her what she wanted — at rock bottom, a chance to be shot at. “Frank, what I said before was based on a lack of activity. As I see it, we’re closer now than ever.”
He nodded decisively. One time. “Okay, you’ve got it. I’ll inform HQ.”
“Thank you. Now, may I ask you something?”
He shrugged. “Shoot.”
“Frank, I deeply appreciate all this.” She waved a hand at the well-appointed room. “It’s marvelous to have a real bath and tuck up in a big, soft bed. But I was reluctant to accept Omar’s offer because…”
“Because none of the operators got a couple of days here.”
She nodded. “And I’m sensitive as a woman receiving preferential treatment.”
“Okay, I can understand that. So why’d you accept?”
The corners of her mouth turned up, and he admired Dr. Padgett-Smith’s dimples. “Because I’m a woman who accepts preferential treatment now and then.”
“Carolyn, if I read you correctly, you’re worried that you might lose some of your trust and good will with my door-kickers.”
“Exactly. I mean, I made such a good start, and then… well, I made such a shambles of things out there. We didn’t come close to completing the mission.” She bit her lip. “Because of me.”
Leopole leaned back against the cushion. He almost called her “honey.” Instead, he intoned, “Carolyn, let me tell you something. The mission went away the minute we were ambushed. It was a risky operation from the start: we knew that. Hell, I think
She swallowed hard, assembling her thoughts. “Yes, I thought so, too. And I should have done. But I learned the difference between intellectual knowledge of what’s possible, and the visceral knowledge that comes…” She inhaled.
He knew.
She swallowed again. Outwardly she was composed, those violet eyes steady and focused. But no words came.
She looked down, nodding slowly. “Yes.”
He risked a touch on her arm. “Carolyn, everybody feels that way. Everybody. Well, just about. I’ve known a couple of guys who really were fearless. But they were abnormal. Down deep, they didn’t care if they lived or died.”
