Main shrugged. “If you want to hunt ducks, you gotta go where the ducks are. I remember somebody telling me that quite some time ago. Sergeant.”
Alford looked around, as if concerned somebody might hear him. “Dave, if the green beanies knew why you’re here, they’d ban you for life. Cripes a’mighty! You’re looking for gold-plated people who speak Arabic and — what? — French?”
“You got
“Which is exactly why I’m asking for some leads, Red. Oh, yeah, while I’m here I’ll talk to Third Group’s S-1, and a request is going through channels but that’ll take weeks. Besides, they’re not going to tell me everything they know, and I can’t blame them. Meanwhile, the clock’s running. But
Alford folded his arms and chewed his lip. “What’s in it for me?”
Main was taken aback. He had never known Charles Ambrose Alford to barter with a friend. “Well, I don’t know, Red. I’m not authorized to offer a bounty… or anything.”
“How about a referral fee?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Damned if I know,” Alford replied. “How’s a grand per head sound?”
Main opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Gotcha!” Alford swung a roundhouse right that connected with Main’s left arm, knocking him off balance.
“You bastard.” Main made a show of rubbing his bicep.
Alford led his former CO back to the firing line. “Hey, you oughta get up here more often. We’ve got a real nice club with matches most weekends.” He grinned his toothy smile again. “We can shoot for beers. Hell, I’ll even spot you, oh, three seconds per stage.”
“I thought you said you don’t shoot much anymore.”
Alford grinned again. “I lied.”
8
The staff meeting included Frank Leopole as head of operations, Omar Mohammed as director of training, and Jack Peters as director of recruiting.
As DO, Leopole chaired the meeting, which was focused on selecting the Chad team. “Okay, people, listen up. Language skill is crucial to this contract: French and Arabic. We still don’t have enough folks who are fluent in Arabic but we’re recruiting some well-qualified guys from under SpecOps’ noses. Fort Bragg and Hurlbert Field will scream bloody murder but hey, it’s a dog-eat-dog business world, you know?”
With no response to the rhetorical question, Leopold proceeded. “All right, I think we all know the obvious choices. Let’s start with J. J. Johnson. Jack, have you talked to him?”
“Yesterday morning. I reached him at his home town in Idaho. He saw the advantages but he’s not real enthused about going to Chad.”
Leopole smirked. “Who is? What’d he say about the bonus?”
“Said he’d think about it. If I don’t hear back by Thursday I’ll call again…”
“Yes?” Leopole sensed that Peters was not finished.
“Well, I really don’t think that Johnson is going to be swayed by money. He’s just not wired that way. I mean, nobody joins the Foreign Legion for the pay! Right now I think it’s a matter of how well he’s recovered from —”
Leopold interrupted. “Oh, I think he’s recovered. I’m just not sure he’ll want to go. Even before the Pakistan op he was talking about settling down, getting a real job, and finding Miss Right.”
“Well, I guess I can understand it,” Peters responded. “I mean, a hitch in the Foreign Legion and then the way the Pakistani terrorists whipped the skin off him.” Peters shook his head. “Poor bastard was practically flayed.”
“But you know what he did, don’t you?” Leopold responded. “He killed a guard, captured another and took him with him, and won a shoot-out with three others. J. J. may seem a quiet, pleasant young man, but I’ve learned something. You gotta watch out for the quiet ones.”
Mohammed interjected in his cultured French accent. “Mr. Peters is right. Men such as J. J. are not motivated by pay but consider this: he joined the Legion as a young man in search of adventure and a chance to prove himself. He has done that, and more. Now, at age thirty or so, he wants to start building something for himself. I know for a fact that he would like to start a family.” He shrugged eloquently. “Perhaps we should send someone to talk to him in person.”
Peters accepted the training director’s assessment. He knew Dr. Mohammed as a perceptive student of the human animal; astute enough to work as a psychologist if he wished. “All right, we’ll do that. And I can sweeten the pot a bit by offering him a supervisory position. With his language ability and military background, he would have instant credibility with our clients.”
Leopole interjected, “Okay, J. J.’s a possible. What about Dave Main’s raid on Fort Bragg?”
Peters’s brown eyes twinkled. “Well, as you can imagine, he wasn’t exactly greeted with open arms. But he dropped a few nickels in the right slots and got some return. We have three prospects: Special Forces guys with French and/or Arabic ability. I’ll know more in a couple of days.”
“When are they available?” Sandy Carmichael was thinking ahead of the game, mentally juggling the increasingly tight schedule with known and possible assets.
“One just got out and sounds like a sure thing. The others have put their papers in. We may have the admiral pull some strings to expedite their release.”
“I was hoping that Dave would turn up more than three.” Carmichael had a lot of confidence in her West Point classmate but she was secretly disappointed that he had not called before his trip to North Carolina. Leopole was looking at her with his head cocked. She tried hard not to blush.
Peters and Mohammed also noticed Sandra Carmichael’s cheeks turn pink. Both inferred the correct meaning.
“Well, it’s still a bit early,” Peters offered. “Colonel Main has one or two other leads to follow.”
Leopole glanced at his briefing list. “All right, then. We still need at least three other trainers. I’d like to have SF people because they make their money training the locals. But if we have to dip into our usual bag, I think we can count on Boscombe and Brezyinski.”
Sandy Carmichael rolled her baby blues. Omar Mohammed permitted himself a smile through his goatee. “Bosco and Breezy. Good boys.”
Peters was only vaguely acquainted with the former paratrooper and Ranger. “Something I should know?”
Leopole, who had worked with both more than once, chuckled aloud. “Some people consider them the Laurel and Hardy of SSI. But they’re good, they’re reliable, and they’re available.”
Sandy said, “I know they don’t speak Arabic, but does either of them speak French?”
“Hell, they hardly speak English!” The former Marine rapped his knuckles in appreciation at his own humor.
Mohammed waved a placating hand. “What is important is their knowledge. They can demonstrate anything the Chadians need to know. With translators, they can manage just fine. Besides, if there’s a problem, there is no one I would rather have along.”
Leopole flipped a check mark on his paper.
“Okay. What about Martha?”
