Part 28 (1/2)
”Start acting civil. Maybe I'll consider it.”
I took a few breaths and tried to recover my usual nonchalant pleasantry or whatever. I smiled nicely and said, ”The outfit becomes you.”
”Thank you.” She swished around.
”How was your trip?” I asked.
”Better than yours. You'll enjoy the return ticket. A big private jet, comfortable seating, real beds, a well-stocked galley.” She smiled and added, ”I smuggled aboard a six-pack of Molson. For you. For your return trip.”
I said nothing.
”It's in the fridge,” she continued. ”Nice and cold. Think of me when you drink it.”
”Right now I'm thinking of choking you.”
”You see? There's the thanks I get.”
”Stop it.”
”And how was your trip?”
”I ate MREs salted with sand, and my driver was addicted to whistling country music.” I said, ”I hate country music.”
”He could have been a rapper.”
”Hey . . . you're right. I had a wonderful trip.”
”I came up-country on Highway 8 a few times. The noise didn't appeal to me either, the first time. People were shooting at us. I recall that trip taking twenty-three days, not fourteen hours.”
I knew what she was doing--reminding me she was a soldier, and a combat veteran who had tasted battle. I informed her, ”I'm going to have enough trouble watching after myself.”
”Is this one of those stupid macho things?”
”Let's not go there, Bian.”
But she was already there and replied, ”You're . . . Okay, maybe you've done this kind of thing in the past, and maybe you think this is no place for a woman. Times have changed, pal. Catch up.”
”A bullet through the brain is timeless.”
”In your case it wouldn't make a difference.”
b.i.t.c.h. ”Bian, listen. This is not a job for any MP--male, female, or anything in between. I was trained for this, I've done it half a dozen times, and I'm out of my league here. Also, Finder and his people are a team. Rule one, the team always looks after the team first.” ”Bian, listen. This is not a job for any MP--male, female, or anything in between. I was trained for this, I've done it half a dozen times, and I'm out of my league here. Also, Finder and his people are a team. Rule one, the team always looks after the team first.”
”Then you should be glad I'm going. I'll watch your back. Promise.”
When I made no reply, she observed, ”Maybe I need need to look after you.” Antic.i.p.ating my next thought, she added, ”And don't even think about pulling rank. Phyllis approved this.” to look after you.” Antic.i.p.ating my next thought, she added, ”And don't even think about pulling rank. Phyllis approved this.”
”Did she?” I looked at her and asked, ”Why? What changed?”
”Nothing, per se. You need an interpreter.”
”I have an interpreter. Some of Finder's men are fluent in Arabic and--”
”Exactly--and we don't really want them to know what's going down.” we don't really want them to know what's going down.”
”That's ridiculous. Even if they find out about bin Pacha, they can't make the connection to Charabi or Daniels.”
”What if they find out who we have our hands on? They lack the appropriate security clearances, they haven't been vetted, nor are they accountable. And think about this--a twenty-five-milliondollar bounty is on Zarqawi's head. Should they figure out who bin Pacha is, they might choose the bonus over you.” She added, ”You're going into Falluja. The perfect place for a perfect murder.”
”This sounds like Phyllis talking. People she can't control give her gas.”
”It was her brainchild. I'll admit that. But the longer bin Pacha's apprehension is kept under wraps, the more vulnerable his financial network is to exploitation. Hours make a difference. You see that, right?”
In fact, I did see that. Were word of bin Pacha's capture to become public, his contacts in the insurgency would s.h.i.+ft locations and his financial sources would head for the hills, or at least cover their tracks.
Bian informed me, ”Unless you have a better option, I'm going.” She added, ”You know what, Sean? I I need to be there. You don't.” need to be there. You don't.”
”I'm going,” I informed her.
”Why? I see no reason for you to take that risk.”
Neither did I. But I hadn't traveled this far to sit on my a.s.s. This wasn't a valid reason but it was a good one. ”I need to be there.”
”You really don't. Take a moment and think about it.”
I took that moment. The easy answer was that despite not doing this my way, destroying Zarqawi's supply of money might shorten the war, might save American lives, and if nothing else, would take one more jihadi a.s.shole off the street. It matters not what branch you wear on your collar, what matters are the words printed on your chest: U.S. Army. Killing bad guys is what soldiers do.
But I knew there was an answer that was more complicated, and probably less n.o.ble. Two words: Bian Tran.
She looked at me a moment in the darkness. I couldn't read her thoughts; I didn't need to, to know what she was thinking: Why isn't this schlub taking this excuse to get off this runaway train? Why isn't this schlub taking this excuse to get off this runaway train?
She then did something that took me completely by surprise. She leaned forward and kissed me. She backed away, and we stared into each other's eyes a moment. She said, ”You're nuts.”
I was, indeed, nuts. She took my hand and led me back to Finder, who was conferring with two other men who had materialized out of the night.
Smith, still standing vigil beside the car, continued to spin on his heels and scan our surroundings. This was one paranoid citizen.
Finder introduced the new gentlemen and we shook hands. They were named Ted and Chris, and they looked like inflated balloons from World Wrestling Entertainment, large, immodestly muscular, and unlike their boss, these guys looked like they were manufactured to be here. They also were dressed in dark civilian clothing, which let them blend in with the locals, and also happened to be the right wardrobe for night action.
Chris smiled and said, ”Nice to meet you.” Ted grunted.
Finder said to Bian and me, ”Have you straightened out your . . . difficulties?”
Bian allowed me to do the talking. I replied, ”A minor misunderstanding. Here's the deal, Mr. Finder. We go in together.”
”No problem.”