looked at them, thought a moment, then said, “Do I have your word as officers that you won’t try anything stupid?”
“You have our word,” Brodie replied. “We won’t even try anything smart.”
Mercer looked at his men, who were about thirty feet away, and motioned to them that the prisoners were going to stand.
Brodie and Taylor stood, and Brodie hoped that the boys with the AKs didn’t misconstrue the signal.
Mercer said, “I wasn’t naïve… but I thought Worley was done lying… so I thought I was going home—where I could make things right. The next day, I get a call on the outpost’s satellite phone. It’s Major Powell, telling me that a helicopter is coming back at first light to take me to Bagram to meet with General Clark and discuss my concerns. He tells me he authorized my release from command, and I should pack all my stuff and prepare to fly to Washington if General Clark feels that my concerns need further consideration at a higher command level. Okay, so I say thank you, Major. And I promise him that I’ll keep him out of any discussion, because he was out of this loop—these killer teams put together by Colonel Worley. Powell knew what was going on, but… someone higher than Worley was running the show. He thanks me and hangs up. Then a few minutes later, he calls back and he says… and I remember this… he says he doesn’t know who is going to be on that helicopter, but that I should be careful. And maybe I should be concerned if any of my men get on that helicopter with me. Then he hangs up. And I’m standing there, in the middle of fucking nowhere, and a helicopter is coming for me at first light, and I don’t know who to trust on my team. But whoever gets on that chopper with me is not someone I can trust. And I’m thinking that Worley could be on that chopper, and the pilot and crew could be Black Ops guys from the Agency who’ve seen people exit choppers at two thousand feet and think nothing of it. They were bringing you to Bagram for stress disorder, which is maybe why you jumped. Or why you tried to hijack the chopper, or some shit like that. Next thing everybody knows, you’re out the door. Chopper swings around, makes a quick landing in Indian territory, and recovers the body. End of story. End of problem.” He added, “Full military honors. Flag on the coffin. Taps at the grave. Mom was still alive, so she’d get the folded flag. Dad puts his arm around her. Everybody is sad, but… ‘Why did he kill himself? He was a nice boy. Normal in every way. The war got to him. It killed him… it killed his mind… ’ ” He looked at Brodie and Taylor. “So I’m standing there thinking that maybe Major Powell is overreacting to something… or maybe he’s just saying be careful of what you say and who you say it to. Maybe it’s me that’s overreacting. I’m not paranoid, but I’m thinking of Brendan Worley. Is he going to let me talk to JAG or CID? Or General Clark? Is he ready to see Flagstaff go in the shit can, and him go to jail? I don’t think so. So I’m in the commo bunker, and there’s a radio there and the sat phone. But two guys are in the bunker—my guys, but I don’t know if they’re guys I can trust, or not trust. I can order them out of the commo bunker, but that’s sort of a giveaway. So I’m basically stuck on an outpost in the middle of the night, and I don’t know who to trust, and there’s a chopper coming for me at first light. So I go in my bunker and sit on my cot with my M4… and I decide that I’m not going to wait for shit to happen to me—I’m going to take charge of the situation. That’s what I was trained to do. So at zero three hundred, I pack some stuff, including night goggles, and I slip over the wall and through the wire and minefield. There’s a place we can do that in case we’re being overrun. A way out that we can all do with our eyes closed. And ten minutes later, I’m on my way to Bagram—about a hundred miles through mountain terrain. About three days.