Part 23 (1/2)
”You won't be getting credit for Sayyaf's capture. Nothing.”
”I don't care, sir.”
Mitch.e.l.l smiled, then rose. ”Make no mistake, if she gets away, your field days will be over. I will say that teaching at the JFK was some of the most rewarding work I've done.”
”I'll probably wind up there either way, sir. Hopefully later and not sooner.”
Mitch.e.l.l came across his desk. Brent wondered if he would extend his hand in a shake. He didn't. ”You're dismissed.”
Brent snapped to and saluted. ”Thank you, sir. And sir, one last favor?”
Mitch.e.l.l returned the salute. ”Are you kidding me, Captain?”
”Major Dennison and Colonel Grey-”
”I'll talk to them. But you sure as h.e.l.l better prove me right.”
”Or I'll die trying.”
The general gave a curt nod. ”Very well.”
Brent practically ran outside to the parking lot and got immediately on the phone with Schoolie. ”Saddle up, fat boy, but don't tell Boleman yet.”
”Holy ... you did it?”
”I just need to call one more player.”
The Mucky Duck was a neighborhood pub and restaurant located in the heart of Captiva Island. Its owners had adopted a bright green duck as a mascot/logo, and the place had become a tradition for vacationers since 1976.
Brent found Thomas Voeckler seated at one of the sun-worn picnic tables located right on the beach. Voeckler enjoyed the shade of a large umbrella with a Corona beer logo and was nursing one of the same while staring across the Gulf of Mexico. In the far distance, the dorsal fins of pa.s.sing dolphins rose above the waves, and a salty tang clung heavily to the air. It was easy to see why the man found this retreat to his liking.
With his own beer in hand, Brent arrived at the table and sat opposite the Splinter Cell, part of him wis.h.i.+ng he could spend a few weeks on the island.
Thomas noticed him and frowned deeply. ”Aw, dude, you drove all the way here? You're wasting your time. I told you on the phone I'm done.”
”You have to look me in the eye and say that.”
Voeckler turned, looked him in the eye. ”I'm done.”
”Okay,” said Brent, pretending to rise.
”And you're leaving now?”
”I got my answer.” Brent started away.
”So what makes you think you can catch her this time?”
”I feel pretty good about it.”
He gave a little snort. ”You sound like my brother.”
Brent returned to the table and took a seat. ”You think he'd want to see you lying on your a.s.s, getting drunk, not finis.h.i.+ng the job?”
”He doesn't care anymore. Because he's dead.”
”What're you, an atheist?”
”I am now.”
”Well, I like to think that he's watching us and trying to give me some words that'll bring you around.”
Thomas's grin turned sarcastic. ”Good luck with that.” ”I talked to Grim. She gave me her blessing. She'd like to see you get back in the saddle, too.”
”I'll bet she would. I'm money, and I'm being wasted right now. That's how they think.”
”Hey, they spent a lot of money on you. Time to give them a return on their investment.”
”They've already been paid-with my brother's life.”
”All right, I won't argue with you. I know what you feel like. You don't have to heal, but you have to go on.”
”Why?”
Brent pursed his lips. ”To better remember him. To respect him and what he believed in.”
”All that honor and duty c.r.a.p. It's all lost on me. And why do you even care? You feeling guilty?”
”Oh, I'm an expert at that. I'm just looking at you and thinking this guy's in the same boat I was. And it's a little boat, taking on water, and there's a big shark, and we're both thinking we need a bigger boat.”
Thomas almost smiled.
”Come on, it'll keep your mind off it.”
Thomas thought a moment, and then his expression brightened. ”I guess if I go with you, I might get killed. Then I wouldn't be lying around here, feeling sorry for myself.”
Brent chuckled under his breath. ”Exactly.”
”Then why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me that in the first place?” Thomas rose. ”You're buying us beers for the road.”
”You got it.”
”So where does the wild-goose chase take us next?”
”Dubai,” said Brent.