“I’d like to arrest this son of a bitch and fly out of here tonight. I’m going right for the golden egg in the Hen House.”
“How did you survive combat?”
“I knew when to duck.”
“Is that it for the plan?”
“I think so. Basically, we’ll all play it by ear tonight. Be ready for anything, be able to adapt to the situation, and, as always, show initiative and good judgment—and remember the mission.”
“Thank you for the pre-battle pep talk.”
He let her know, “I’m not crazy. I know when something looks and smells wrong. I know when to retreat. That’s why I’m still alive.”
“I’ll remind you of that.”
“Also, I had another thought about the Hen House. According to Raúl, it’s run by MBR-200, which is connected to the regime. So this raises the question of why Mercer would be in a place that he must know has connections to the mob who have connections to the government—a place where he’d be likely to run into MBR-200 guys, police, and even government officials.” He reminded Taylor, “Simpson said Mercer looked comfortable there. Like he ran the place, or maybe he was there for some reason other than to dip his wick.”
She nodded. “We’ve established that Al Simpson uses colorful language in his eyewitness account.”
“Point is, if I were a gringo on the run, I’d pick someplace else in Caracas to hang out and have a beer. Unless…”
“Unless he’s somehow involved with the colectivo and/or the regime.”
“Right. Though that may also be a stretch. But… why the hell would he be in a whorehouse that’s dangerous to him on many levels?”
“He could be into child prostitutes.”
“Somehow, I don’t think so… and if he was, he’d have one delivered to his place of residence.” He added, “It’s the Hen House, not the girls, that he finds comfortable.”
“Ask him when you arrest him. Or ask the girl who you pay for information.”
“I will ask the girl. Or several girls. We are not allowed to interrogate Captain Mercer.”
“And you always follow orders.”
“If I can remember them, I follow them.” He glanced at his watch. “We should change into evening wear and get moving.”
Taylor looked at him. “One more thing, Scott. We’re about to embark on a mission that may end badly. So I want to know what Colonel Dombroski told you that I had no need to know.”
Brodie had seen that coming and replied, “I told you. Robert Crenshaw.”
“No. It’s something else. Something that has to do with me.”
“Good deductive reasoning.” He added, “We can discuss this back in the States.”
“No, we can discuss it now.”
“All right… As you have already guessed, Dombroski told me you were once involved with a CIA guy.”
“And I am forever tainted.”
“No, you are forever under suspicion.”
“That’s total bullshit.”
“Be that as it may.”
“I slept with the guy, Scott. I didn’t get recruited by him.”
“Good. End of discussion.”
“Is this going to follow me for the rest of my Army career?”
“I hope not.”
“If I slept with a Mafia guy, does that make me a suspected member of the Mafia?”
“Actually, yes, and the police would like to speak to you.” He pointed out, “If nothing else, it shows bad judgment.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who have you slept with?”
“Not you. Despite your bad taste in men.”
“This is not funny.” She looked at him. “Dombroski had no right to impugn my loyalty or to suggest that I might have ties to the CIA, or—”
“He just mentioned it in passing. Cool off.”
“Do you think I’m passing on information to the CIA? Is that why you were questioning me at the pool?”
“I was just showing you what it felt like to be grilled.”
“Bullshit.”
“This is not the way to set out on a mission.”
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
She didn’t respond and seemed to be deep in thought, then said, “His name was Trent.”
“I think every CIA officer’s name is Trent.”
She forced a smile, then continued, “He was a PSYOPs guy. He taught at the Special Warfare School at Bragg. I was in a class he ran for Civil Affairs.” She stared off into the past. “He tried to impress me with war stories from his time as a paramilitary—he was part of the initial assault on Tora Bora to get bin Laden—back in the beginning of the war that everyone thought was going to be over in a year.”
Brodie had no idea why he needed to know any of this, but Taylor seemed to want to reminisce—or explain how she got involved