or tried to do something that would balance the great scales of life that had tipped the wrong way. For him, it was the CID. The law. Due process versus a well-aimed bullet. This was working for him most of the time, but not all of the time.
Then there were men—like Kyle Mercer—who embraced war the way some men embrace a woman who they know has killed her past lovers. It’s an incredible high if you survive.
Brodie thought he understood a little of what made Kyle Mercer tick, and it was no surprise to discover that Captain Mercer had gone to the jungle and recruited his own Fuerza Delta.
There was something out there—a missing piece—that would tie this case together. Mercer. Crenshaw. Caracas. And there were other missing pieces to this puzzle, and those pieces were probably in the pockets of people like General Hackett, General Mendoza, Colonel Worley, and maybe even Colonel Dombroski. But he, Scott Brodie, was not going to be given those pieces, and he couldn’t demand them. He could, however, go to the source: the puzzle-maker, Kyle Mercer. As in all criminal investigations, the answers lay with the perpetrator. All you had to do was find him and make him talk. And finding Mercer had just become a little easier, and making people talk was something Brodie was good at.
Brodie recalled the video of Kyle Mercer as a captive of the Taliban—unbroken and defiant. And he recalled the video of Mercer lopping off Taliban heads—crazy-eyed and angry. Angry at the Army. Which told Brodie something: You don’t resign your commission because you deserted and got captured by the enemy. Captain Mercer had lived up to his responsibility under the Code of Conduct to escape. So, if you’re Kyle Mercer, you go find an American unit, turn yourself in, and beg for forgiveness, which you could reasonably expect under the circumstances. But that’s not what Captain Mercer did. He was pissed off about something. And Brodie had no doubt that Kyle Mercer would be happy and eager to tell him about it if they met—especially if it was Mercer who had the gun pointed at Brodie rather than vice versa. In either case, Brodie would have his answer and Mercer would have his moment of truth. Everyone would be happy and satisfied. But probably only one of them would walk away alive.
Brodie found his mouthwash, rinsed, and spit. Maybe Maggie Taylor wanted to give him a big kiss on the mouth for his bravery. Maybe not.
He went to his bedroom, found a clean polo shirt in his luggage, and pulled it on, then went into the living room.
He found Taylor sitting cross-legged on the couch, barefoot, wearing a T-shirt and shorts that revealed the scars on her leg. She had her tablet in her lap, and spread out on the coffee table was a large map which Brodie assumed was of Venezuela. She referenced something on her tablet, then took a Sharpie and circled a location on the map. Obviously she was planning their journey into the heart of darkness.
He walked to the bar, made two rum and colas, and took them over to the couch. He put her drink next to the map and sat, noticing that she’d circled a few places in the south of the country, and that, based on the color coding, a lot of southern Venezuela was covered with forest and jungle. Finding a whorehouse in a city of two million people had been tough enough. Finding a hidden camp in a jungle was going to be a challenge. This was where his infantry training and map-reading skills would come in handy. He asked, “Where’d you get the map?”
Taylor took a break from her tablet and picked up her drink. “Gift shop. Free with the bathing suit.”
Brodie smiled and raised his glass. “To you. You did good tonight.” Give me a big kiss.
She touched her glass to his and said, “If you ever put me in a situation like that again, I’m bailing and you’ll be flying solo.”
He glanced at the scars on her leg. “You know you don’t mean that.”
“Try me.”
“I’d be there for you, Maggie.”
“If I did something as crazy as you did, I wouldn’t expect you to be there.”
“I didn’t actually plan it that way.”
“You didn’t plan it. Period.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He suggested, “Let’s move on.” He looked at the map. “You find Mercer’s secret camp yet?”