obviously gotten spooked by Worley, so Brodie didn’t mention it. Nor would he ask again about Flagstaff—he might have the answer to that very soon. Nor would Brodie ask Colonel Dombroski to run a background check on General Gomez. And finally, Brodie would not mention his suspicion that Worley and Ted had flown to Tomás de Heres Airport, then on to the jungles of southern Venezuela in search of Kyle Mercer. In fact, as Colonel Dombroski was chewing him out, Brodie felt there was a lot that he wasn’t obligated to share with his boss, and most probably his boss did not want to hear any of it. Colonel Dombroski had understood from the beginning—either instinctually or from General Hackett—that this was more than a criminal case, and Dombroski had been handling it like the hot potato it was. And now that Brodie had informed his boss that Captain Mercer was not just a fugitive, but some kind of jungle warlord, Dombroski saw a way out of this troublesome case. But he also wanted it to be the CID who apprehended the most infamous Army deserter since Benedict Arnold. Or at least assist in the apprehension. Colonel Dombroski wanted justice, of course, but he also wanted to retire with a general’s pension. And his most reckless agent might make this possible.
Poor Colonel Dombroski, Brodie thought. Caught between caution and a big gamble. Between pressure from General Hackett, and pressure from Brendan Worley and Worley’s colleagues in the Intel establishment. And also caught up in some shit he could only guess at. Well, that made two of them. He glanced at Taylor, who seemed to be enjoying hearing Dombroski chewing on Brodie’s ass.
“Are you listening to me, Brodie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have put yourself in a world of shit, Mr. Brodie. And only you can dig yourself out of it. And make sure you don’t dig yourself and Ms. Taylor deeper into the shit.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dombroski seemed to have satisfied his appetite for Brodie’s ass, and asked, “Do you have anything you’d like to say?”
“Well… can I speak off the record?”
“Everything we’ve said is off the record.”
“All right… I believe that Brendan Worley is running his own operation to find Captain Mercer. I also believe that there are people in Washington who don’t want Captain Mercer arrested. They want him dead. And I think you know that. And the only reason for this that I can think of is that Captain Mercer knows too much about something.”
Colonel Dombroski didn’t reply, and Brodie didn’t expect him to. He pictured Dombroski at home in his crappy post-divorce bachelor pad, contemplating another drink, and thinking about two possible futures—forced retirement on a colonel’s pay, or a general’s star, and maybe a less stressful job in the bowels of the Pentagon.
Brodie, too, was at a crossroads in his career, but maybe he had civilian options—assuming he returned alive from the jungle.
Most of the time in the Army, there is no easy way out—like when you’re ordered to attack. Now and then, however, you’re ordered to stand down. But something in your training and in your gut says to push on; to ignore the order and the odds and go for the big win. This is how heroes and legends are made. It’s part of the Army culture. It’s also how dead soldiers are made.
He glanced at Maggie Taylor, whose career and life span were tied to his. Maybe, to be fair to her, they should take that charter flight to Curaçao, instead of Kavak, and lie on the beach for a week.
“Are you finished, Mr. Brodie?”
“No. You mentioned justice, Colonel. Brendan Worley and his friends deliver a kind of justice that isn’t due process, but is the kind of justice that the American government and American people have become comfortable with in the years since 9/11. Think Predator drones armed with Hellfire missiles. That solution might be attractive to a lot of people in Washington because it has the beneficial effect of vaporizing Kyle Mercer, and with him the answers to a lot of uncomfortable questions. We, Colonel—you and I and Ms. Taylor—are after the truth. When we have that, we can have justice.”
Colonel Dombroski stayed silent for awhile, then said, “The truth, Mr. Brodie, can not only be uncomfortable. It can be fatal.”
“We all know that.”
“Be very careful, Mr. Brodie. And Ms. Taylor. And be aware that you are entering into a dangerous area.”