“Maybe if I call him, he’ll tell you. But then he’ll have to kill you. He kills people who know too much.”
“Okay… I can believe that. In fact, Maggie and I will look into that when we leave here.”
Mercer powered up the phone, and dialed the only number in the phone directory. He put it on speaker and placed the phone on the table.
Brodie heard the ring, then the pickup. “Where the hell are you?”
Mercer said, “Buenos días, Colonel.”
There was a silence; then Worley asked, “Who is this?”
“Your worst fucking nightmare.”
There was another silence, and Brodie thought Worley had fainted or something. Then he said, “Where are Mr. Brodie and Ms. Taylor?”
“Right here, singing like birds to get out of here alive.”
“May I speak to them to see if they are alive?”
“Sure.” He covered the mouthpiece and held up the phone toward Brodie and Taylor. “Just say ‘Hello, asshole,’ loud and clear for Worley’s recording device.” He uncovered the mouthpiece.
Brodie, without putting too much enthusiasm in his voice, called out, “Hello, asshole!”
Taylor called out, “Hello…” She glanced at Mercer. “Asshole!”
Mercer got back on the phone. “Satisfied?”
“All right…”
“I’m impressed with their tracking skills. CID knows how to find people. DIA and CIA not so much. In fact, you’re all talk and no delivery. Just like in Afghanistan.”
“I will find you.”
“Not before I find you.”
“You know where I am. United States Embassy, Caracas.”
“That’s where you hide. You’re a ball-less wonder, Colonel. Same as in Afghanistan. You ever hear a shot fired over there? I did. Every fucking day.”
“You had your job, Captain, and I had mine. And mine is now to find you. And I’m close.”
“You were getting warm. Have you heard from Ted Haggerty recently? No? Well, I don’t think you will until you meet in hell.”
“Where is he?”
“I just told you.”
There was silence on the line. Then Worley said, “You’re a sick man.”
“I know I’ll be better when you’re dead.”
“That’s not going to happen, Captain.”
“If you have to die anyway, you should want to die in the line of duty with your phony reputation intact. That’s better than me spilling my guts about what you did.”
Worley, obviously thinking about the two witnesses who, though they were as good as dead, were not actually dead, replied, “I did nothing wrong, Captain. You did. And you will pay for that.”
“I’ve already paid for my sins, Colonel. It’s your turn. Sorry if I interrupted your day drinking.” He hung up and turned the phone off, then glanced at his watch. “What do you think, Scott? Traced?”
“I don’t know. Call him back and ask.”
Mercer was tuned out again. He said, as if to himself, “Could kill him easily enough in Caracas… but I need to kidnap him and torture him to death. Slowly. Maybe a day for every month I spent in Taliban captivity…”
Obviously Captain Mercer and Colonel Worley had some issues, and two years in Taliban captivity wasn’t enough time for Mercer to forget or for Worley to forgive.
Well, at least Brodie and Taylor knew who Ted was. He was Ted Haggerty, and now he was dead. And, as per Emilio, he was probably the gringo whose throat Mercer had cut in the prison hut. In a normal investigation, Brodie would certainly ask the suspect about that, but the less he and Taylor knew, the better their chances—which now stood at zero—of persuading Mercer to come home and face a simple charge of desertion.
Mercer stared off at the river. “I didn’t torture Haggerty. He was happy to talk, so I gave him a quick release.”
“Good,” said Brodie. “I’m sure he’s happy to be going home.”
Mercer nodded. “He’s gone home.” He assured Brodie and Taylor, “I would give you the same quick release. I don’t enjoy torture for its own sake. It’s just for when people don’t answer me truthfully.” Mercer went dark again and stared into space.
Brodie didn’t like it when Mercer was thinking and not talking. Brodie and Taylor could, to some extent, control the conversation—but if Mercer was thinking that he needed to know more about who knew the location of his camp, or if an operation was planned, then he might start asking questions that Brodie and Taylor wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. Then it would be fish and monkey time.
To get Mercer out of his dark thoughts, Brodie said, “I know why you’re here—to kill Worley. But what is this camp all about?”
“It’s about a lot of things.”
“Right. Maggie and I have been racking our brains, and we