“First, I’d make it clear that we are here to arrest him. Then I would make him aware that before we were cops, we were real soldiers, like he was, and we saw the same shit, like he did.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“I would then invite him to tell us his story about what happened over there—as little or as much as he wants to tell. Then I might dangle a deal in front of him. Assuming he was involved in Flagstaff, I’d assure him that he would have an opportunity to testify about that in a public venue. This would mitigate his own guilt if, in fact, he killed civilians. I’d also give him a pass on the charge of desecrating enemy bodies. That’s a nonstarter in the court of American public opinion anyway. I would also not mention the name of Robert Crenshaw. That’s a capital offense if he did it, and it’s a hard charge to prove. So we’re down to desertion, which can be reduced to dereliction of duty and some other non-hanging offenses.” He added, “He’s got to pay for his crimes, but the Army defines the crimes and hints at the penalty if the accused agrees to plead guilty, and to pay the price. That saves time and money on a court-martial.” He reminded her, “No one wants this to become a public spectacle.”
She stayed silent awhile, then said, “I think it’s important to him that he tells his story, and tries to find peace—in his heart, mind, and soul. I don’t think he cares about making a deal or getting a reduced sentence. I don’t think he cares if he faces a firing squad, which he’d probably prefer to life behind bars.”
“Maybe you and I can offer him both. Justice and salvation. Like, good cop, good cop.”
“Like honest cops.”
“All right… But more likely this is all moot, because Kyle Mercer is happy where he is. And not happy to see us.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Right. We’ll talk to him like our lives depend on it.”
She didn’t reply.
“I take the lead.”
“Don’t antagonize him.”
“Captain Mercer will respond well to military authority, and to a call to do his sworn duty as an officer.”
“He resigned his commission.”
“Not accepted.”
“All right… but get a sense of him before you go Army on him. If he’s talking, let him talk.”
“I always do.”
“Except when you get pissed off.”
“That never happens.”
“It happened when I was telling you about Flagstaff. Specifically about Trent.”
“Okay… let me make a confession. I’m a little jealous.”
“I never would have guessed.”
He didn’t respond to that, but said, “We’ll get out of this, Maggie. I promise you.”
She took his hand and squeezed it.
“And remember this—no matter what happens, we are not Captain Mercer’s captives. We are his arresting officers. And he knows that.”
“All right…” She took a long breath and squeezed his hand tighter. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”
“Neither have I. And neither has Kyle Mercer. This is the end of the line for him, one way or the other, and he knows that, and he has to decide how this is going to end for him.”
“And for us. Okay… I understand all that.”
“I know you do.” Brodie leaned back against the wall and looked at the door.
Eventually it would open. And someone would come in. Maybe Mercer, to talk. Or Mercer with a knife. Or Emilio with an invitation to see the boss. Or Emilio with an invitation for Señora Bowman to come with him.
No use speculating. Just be prepared.
CHAPTER 44
Brodie sat with his back against the wall. The heat and dehydration were sapping him, but he needed to be awake to think and act when the time came.
Taylor was sleeping soundly, and he let her sleep. As a woman in the military, she probably always felt she had to prove herself. As his partner… who knew what she felt? Brodie suspected it was complex, ranging from gratitude for his mentoring, to a sure certainty that Scott Brodie was a loose cannon and an asshole. Now, however, she was just a woman, fresh meat for the camp. And there wasn’t much he could do for her, except talk her into an escape attempt. Or let her know it was okay to do what she had to do to survive, and not worry about him.
Chivalry was dead, especially in the civilian world, but in the military traditions take longer to die. There was an old Army saying: “All the brothers are brave, and