“As for the money — that was probably convenience, not entirely greed.”
“You think he could’ve got more than two million?”
“Almost certainly, based on his knowledge of Hezbollah operations alone. Of course, it required good faith on the part of the Israelis, but at this point in his life, I believe that our Mr. Esmaili decided he had nothing to lose by trusting his enemy.” Mohammed arched an eyebrow. “And he’s a shrewd businessman: two million is quite a bargain.”
Langevin looked around to ensure that no one overheard. “How long do you think he’ll last on the outside?”
Mohammad stroked his beard again. “Oh, eventually the facts will be known, by intention or by mistake. But wherever he goes, I would not wager his surviving long enough to spend his money.”
“Well, maybe his information will do some good before then.” Omar Mohammed indulged in a wry smile. “I would wager a goodly sum that if Imam Elham remains in Lebanon very long he will receive some unexpected visitors one night.”
Bernard Langevin, PhD, smiled in recollection. “As our young friend Breezy would say, ‘Hoo-ah the unexpected visitors.’”
50
“There they are.” Derringer caught sight of Delmore’s bald head towering above the crowd.
Most of the SSI staff was on hand to meet the team returning from Lebanon.
Peters shifted his feet. “Well, I feel a kind of obligation, Admiral. Frank and I recruited Pitney and now…” He shrugged beneath his raincoat. “He doesn’t really know anybody else from the office.”
Derringer watched his talent scout greet Pitney with a warm handshake.
“Robert, welcome back.”
The shooter was obviously surprised. “That’s good of you, Mr. Peters.” He scanned the reception committee. “I didn’t really expect a crowd like this.”
“Well, we just want you guys to know how much we appreciate what you did. All of you.”
Pitney absorbed the meaning without comment.
“How are you? Really.”
“Oh, tired but okay.” Robert Pitney paused for a moment. “I thought I knew more or less what to expect, but I didn’t. Not really. Chris tried to tell me that in his own way.” He glanced at Nissen, exchanging handshakes and hugs. “I guess I’m glad that I went, because I learned something.”
Peters cocked his head. “Yes?”
“I learned that the price you pay for seeing the show is steeper than you think.” He stared at a travel poster, then said, “I guess I’ll spend a lot of time wondering if it was worth the price of admission.”
Amid the greetings — heartfelt and pro forma — Sandy Carmichael sought out Brezyinski.
“Breezy! Welcome back, guy.” She gave the door-kicker a warm hug that took him by surprise. He squeezed her in return.
“Thanks, Colonel Sandy.” He sucked in some air. “It’s so… good… to be home.”
She patted his arm. “Mark, when you’ve had time to settle in, come see me. Matt Finch and I will be reshuffling the go-to roster and we’d like to discuss some options with you.”
“Well, thanks. A lot. I mean, I really do appreciate it. But I’m not sure what I want to do after… what’s happened.”
“Breezy, you can do just about anything you want. Like J. J. Johnson. He’s on our full-time training roster so he doesn’t deploy to field operations unless he asks to.” She studied Brezyinski’s face closely.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ about that. I mean, I want to see Bosco’s family in Washington State. I could see the Double Jay on the way back.”
Derringer and Wilmont gathered the ten operators around Chris Nissen. SSI’s founder knew it would be a few days before the full team was assembled again. “Gentlemen, welcome back. Welcome back.” He shook his head. “You did an extraordinary job.” He raised a fist to his mouth and gave an unnecessary cough. “Ah, we’re planning a memorial service for Frank… ahem… and the others. It’ll be at Arlington next month. Check with the office and we’ll have the details.”
Green ventured a question. “Admiral, what about Jacobs and Malten? Last we heard they were still in Beirut.”
“No, they came home day before yesterday. The doctors finally released Malten to travel.”
Barrkman leaned toward Furr. “Damn, they missed all the fun.”
“Yeah, unless Malten calls taking a round through the guts some kind of fun.”
Wilmont recognized that Derringer did not want to say much more, and imposed his bulk between the admiral and the operators. “Fellows, we have some vans waiting as soon as your luggage is ready. This way, please.”
As the crew proceeded to the baggage carousel, Carmichael eased up to Derringer.
“They look bushed, Admiral. And I don’t mean the travel.”
“Well, some of them have been through an ordeal. I saw you talking to Brezyinski.”
“He’s still dealing with Boscombe’s death. I think he will be for quite a while.” She looked up at her boss. “Maybe for the rest of his life.”
Derringer took Carmichael’s arm and turned away from the crowd. “Sandy, I don’t want to appear an opportunist. I think you know me better than that. But after this mission, SSI’s future is assured. It didn’t look good a couple of months ago, but handling the backpack nuke is a major coup for us.”
The Alabaman furrowed her forehead. “Admiral, how can we publicize that? The Israelis must rate it beyond top secret.”
“Well, I talked with General Varlowe today on that very matter. You know how Beltway insiders love to be — inside. The word
“So we’re some kind of deniable heroes.”
Derringer merely gave her a small grin, slightly cynical around the edges.
After an awkward pause, Carmichael spoke her mind. “Mike, I’m certainly glad the company will survive. I mean, I’m not ready to retire, and I still enjoy the work. But, you know…” Her southern accent trailed off.
“Well…”
“Tell me. Please,” she prompted.
“Well, we turned a corner in Lebanon. It’s not going to be the same without Frank and Steve, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Her voice was soft amid the background babble.
“You mentioned you’re not ready to retire. But I’m not so sure about me.”
Sandra Carmichael could think of nothing to say.
51
“You know, Bosco came here to see me before the African gig.”
J. J. Johnson made another cast and landed his fly within eight inches of his aim point. Dissatisfied, he whipped the graphite rod backward, flexed it twice more, and tried again. The Woolly Bugger alit three inches from the floating leaf.
