on hard times, each for a different offense, ranging from bad conduct discharges to dishonorable discharges.
These men entered the mercenary world already dirty, and that only helped them justify their actions. Still, the dirt had grown on them insidiously in the past eighteen months of increasingly violent, and morally questionable, operations, to the point where Hulett wondered sometimes if he was the only man on his team who wondered if he was going to hell for his actions.
He was certain he would never know, because he would never ask the guys if they had any reservations.
The other men made an average of one hundred twenty grand a year, a fact Hulett was thinking about at present because of Ronnie Blight. Ares’s family would have to find another source of income, because the company they all worked for didn’t pay death benefits.
The American steeled himself to speak with Tarik about what had gone down in Venezuela, and was certain that the death of his contractor was the reason he’d been brought to downtown Dubai straight off the aircraft.
Tarik entered in a crisp white button-down shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of designer blue jeans. He was probably about forty-five, Hulett thought, with silver sparkling in his short black hair and thin beard.
The men shook hands; neither of them was smiling.
Hulett said, “I apologize, sir.”
“For what?” Tarik’s English was impeccable.
“I should have probably cleaned up a little first. Just got off the transport.”
The Emirati gave a slight look of offense. “You don’t think I’ve been to war? You don’t think I’ve lived in shit? I spent five years in and out of Yemen, started as a soldier, ended as a policy maker.”
Hulett was sure Tarik had not been a soldier, and he was not a policy maker now. He was a spy.
He said, “I’ve spent my time in the ditches and in the streets. I don’t care how I, or how my soldiers, look or smell. I only care about results.”
The American said, “Well, sir, if you aren’t offended by my odor and my dress, then I guess I won’t bring it up again.”
Tarik nodded, and the matter was settled. “You are probably wondering why I brought you here.”
The two men sat down on comfortable chairs near the window.
“I assume it has to do with everything that happened in Venezuela.”
Tarik shook his head. “No. I’m satisfied with that operation.”
Hulett cocked his head now. “You’re satisfied? One of my boys got killed.”
The Middle Easterner seemed to think about this a moment before asking, “Have you ever lost a man before?”
“I’ve never been an officer before, so while men on my A-team died when I was in SF, I wasn’t the OIC.”
Tarik sat ramrod straight in his chair, his dark eyes boring holes into Hulett. “Yes. Well, I have been an officer in charge, and I have lost many men. As long as the mission is honorable, then there is nothing to worry about. You might not believe in the same God as I do, but I know that your man was martyred and valorous. What more can a soldier ever hope for?”
Hulett figured Ronnie Blight had probably hoped for something more than martyrdom via a bullet through his windpipe and a lonely unmarked grave in a foreign country for his charred corpse.
But he didn’t argue the point. Instead, he said, “I get the fight we’re waging in Yemen. But I don’t get what the hell we were doing in South America. That dude we wasted was a middle-aged American. We’re supposed to be over here fighting rebels working with Iran’s Quds Force. You can’t tell me he was working for Quds.”
“He was not Iranian. But he was working in the furtherance of the aims of our common enemy.”
“He was working for the Iranians?”
“Originally, in fact, he was working for me.”
Hulett sat back in his chair. “What?”
“He was supporting my efforts in Europe. He ran with valuable information about our operation, then I found him, and I sent you.”
“With orders to kill him?”
“Yes. He had intelligence that could have seriously degraded our abilities in Yemen. We don’t think he told the Venezuelans, but if some other nation got to him, it could have made trouble for us.”
“I’m not so sure someone else didn’t get to him.”
“Meaning?” Tarik asked with a raised eyebrow.
“We never saw anybody on site but the target, and four Venezuelan intel pukes. But I had one dead and two others hit, a third of my damn force. The Venezuelans