I understood his point and said, “Right. But we’re talking about truth in job advertising here. We’re off on the wrong foot.”
Brenner replied, “I never lied to you. And I never will.”
We looked at each other and my instincts said to believe him.
I looked at Kate, who I knew was annoyed that she was the last to know. As for me, I’ve gotten used to being lied to by the Feds, but Kate was still capable of being upset by all the bullshit and need-to-know crap.
She said to me, “Apparently you knew about all this, and yet you didn’t tell me.”
I knew that was coming and I replied, “I wanted you to hear it here. And not from me.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
Buck suggested, “We can leave you alone to discuss this.”
I reminded him, “Every word is being recorded. You may as well hear it live and not have to play the tape.”
Brenner said impatiently, “Just give us your decision, please. You already know in your guts what you want to do. So let us know.”
Well, this shouldn’t be that tough of a decision. Do we stay in this dangerous shithole and dangle ourselves from a meathook to attract The Panther? Or do we go home and have dinner in a nice restaurant?
There were career considerations, but that wasn’t too important to me, though it was for Kate.
The bottom line was really about the Cole victims, the war on terrorism, this asshole called The Panther, and maybe a little payback for 9/11. When it’s only about you, you do what’s best for you. But when it’s about something bigger than you, you do what’s right, not what’s best.
I knew why I was here, so I said, “I’m in.”
Kate said, without hesitation, “Me, too.”
“Good,” said Buck. “You won’t regret… Well, you might, but with luck and good teamwork, it will be The Panther who regrets your decision, as well as his own bad decisions.”
Brenner added, “As I said, now that you’re here, we have a good chance of wrapping this up quickly and successfully.” He smiled. “And I can get the hell out of here.”
Buck seconded that, then looked at us and said, “I was Yale, Class of ’65, and in those days, before Vietnam got ugly, and before we lost confidence in ourselves and lost our innocence, we believed in the school motto—‘For God, for Country, for Yale.’ ” He smiled and said, “Well, Yale doesn’t give a damn, and I’m not sure about God, but we do this for our country. Not for the government, but for the people, and for the innocent victims of terrorism. There’s no other reason to be here.”
Can’t argue with that. I mean, the pay is okay, but not good enough to put your life on the line. The ego needs feeding once in a while, but my ego was already stuffed. Adventure and danger are interesting, but I did that every day. So what was left to motivate people like me? Maybe Buck had the simple but rarely spoken answer: patriotism. But also something else that is usually not said in polite American society, and I said to Buck, “Don’t forget revenge.”
He nodded and said, “With the Soviets, I never thought of revenge. But now I think about it often.”
Brenner agreed, “Revenge is good.”
Kate said, “I’ll stick to God and country.”
There was a buzz on the intercom, and Brenner said, “Breakfast. Then we can go over the plan.”
It was good to hear that there was a plan. I was sure I wasn’t going to like the plan, but the bait never does.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The SCIF was off-limits to Yemenis, so Brenner left to meet the kitchen guy in the hallway.
I took the opportunity to ask Buck, “What are his qualifications for this job?”
Buck replied, “Paul is a Vietnam vet—two tours, one as a combat infantryman, one as a military policeman. He’s been decorated for bravery, and he has a B.S. in criminal justice. He’s also been to post-war Vietnam on a clandestine mission.” He added, “Forget that.”
“And how does all that qualify him for this mission?”
Buck seemed a little impatient with me and replied, “He understands police work, as you do, and what we’re doing here is basically looking for a fugitive from justice.” He added, “Also, Paul has been shot at, so if that happens here, he knows how to shoot back.”
“All right.” Basically, Paul Brenner was no more qualified for a Black Ops job than I was—but they weren’t bad qualifications. And