What?
He fills the silence. “She was useful alive, she still had things to tell us. You know we aren’t fuckin’ careless, we know people we catch are dedicated and promised glory in the fuckin’ afterlife, though perhaps seventy odd virgins wasn’t appropriate in her case. She was watched, man, carefully. Fact is, she was stopped from talking, and I’m not convinced it was by her own hand.”
“What?” That puts a different complexion on it. “But she was going to blow herself up. That’s a death wish for certain.”
“I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the footage from when she was arrested. She was shocked, but when I replayed it, I thought I saw relief. You know how it is, women are forced into this position. We can’t discount that’s what happened to her. Nor that someone got to her.”
“She must have been guarded by US military,” I state.
This time he lets the pause hang out before replying, “Exactly. She was.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I won’t kid you, Stormy, but I don’t either. But there’s a coincidence I don’t like. She mentioned your name, that’s how we knew her identity. Who she is, is the fuckin’ talk of the town, and you know who’s over here putting in an appearance?” I don’t, so I stay quiet. “Fuckin’ Commander Smythe. Of course he got his promotion as a desk jockey but that doesn’t stop him from throwing his weight around.”
“He connected the dots?”
“Oh yeah. Your name and Pooh’s is everywhere. And he’s getting mileage from saying the kids should have been left to die the first time.”
“Bastard!” I roar, suppressing my instinct to throw the phone, trying to think calmly. What would I have felt if Nazia’s suicide bomb had exploded? Nazia’s still dead, sure, but if she’d succeeded there could have been many more. Soldiers and innocents. For a moment I don’t know what to think. At least part of me sympathises with Smythe. If I’d left the kids there, Pooh would be alive, I’d still be a SEAL…
“Something smells, Stormy. I don’t know what. I don’t even know why I’m calling you.” Because you wanted to share shit around? Bring me down? “I just… I don’t know what you’re doing now, man. But you used to be able to find shit out. If someone got to Nazia while she was in custody…”
What he’s saying is, it had to be one of us, and that he wants me to find out. Could I?
“Do you know what’s happened to the other girl, Marjan?”
When he tells me he’s got no fucking idea, I realise I’d like to know. But what can I do? “I’m not on the ground, Tailor.” But as I say that, my mind’s whirring on whether I could find a way to touch down in the sandpit I’d thought I’d left far behind, as a civilian of course. I’d have no authority, and no one with me.
“Yeah. I know that.”
“I can look into it from here, but that’s all I think I can do for now.”
“All I can ask, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like Smythe being around.”
“You and me both. But he won’t be here long. He’s just with a politician checking up on the troops.”
I really don’t like the coincidence he was there at the right time. “Keep in touch, Tailor. If you find out any more—”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Watch your backs.” With that, I end the call. It’s only when he’s off the line, I realise I didn’t ask about the rest of the team. But then, his contact hadn’t been social.
It just goes to show a blast from the past isn’t necessarily rainbows and sunshine. For the last few years, I’ve managed to put what happened behind me. Of course I’ll never stop regretting Pooh’s death, nor that I lost my career. But I’ve gained a new one, and more than that, a family, the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.
But Tailor’s phone call has caused me to blame myself all over again. Nazia, apparently so fuckin’ dirty, means her staying alive meant Pooh’s death was in vain. Damn it to fucking hell.
What can I do? Sure, I can hack into almost any database, but what would I be able to find out?
I could ask my brothers for help.
Which would mean coming clean and telling them my secrets, and in this case, I’d come off the worse. How could they ever trust me knowing my error of judgement let Pooh die in order to save someone who’d take US soldiers with her to her grave?
I thought I was doing the right thing. The only saving grace had been that she and her sister had lived another day, albeit in Nazia’s case, hers were numbered. She, at least, hadn’t ended up living a good life.
Pooh died. Those kids lived. Well, now there’s only one of them hopefully alive. Shit.
I return to the clubhouse, not because I want company, but I need a drink like I need my next breath. Unfortunately, as I reach the bar, I’m not the only one there.
“You okay, Stormy?”
“Yeah, Prez.” I’ve never been the life and soul of the party, but even I know I’ve gone unusually quiet, trying to sort out crap in my head. One drink, then I’ll get down to the comms room and start searching around for any information I can find.
Smythe’s in Afghanistan. I don’t like coincidences.
I could go back.
It’s the worst possible time. Smythe would call for a lynching party, using what’s happened to heap more blame on my head.
I sip my bourbon. I could do it. No one needs to know that I’m there. I speak the language and had gotten on with some of the local guys who we had trained. Maybe I could come at this from two ways, by mining data, and talking to people on the ground. If I could find out Nazia was coerced, that she was left no choice, it would at least settle something inside me. The bomb she was wearing hadn’t exploded, why not? She was in custody, but she died. Again, why?
So many fucking questions and not enough answers.
Pip had absorbed my answer to his innocent enquiry. Now I elaborate my response. “Actually, I’m not okay. Something personal has come up, Pip.”
“Anything we can help with?” If this was a situation occurring in the US, I might have asked him. But the team only works on national soil, none of our missions take us out of the country.
So I shake my head. “Nah. This is down to me. I might need some time off.” If I take some personal time away from the MC, I can go by myself. Not that I have any expectation of being able to do anything, but it’s better than staying here and regretting decisions I’d made in the past.
Pooh’s death can’t be meaningless. I have to find something to balance that out.
Someone must know what’s happened to her, and that someone is likely to be her sister. I’ll have to find her. And if she’s deep in crap as well, extricate her.
Still casually leaning against the bar with one foot propped on the rail, Pip, while I’ve been lost in my head, has had his attention caught by a joke Rascal is telling. He laughs loudly at the punch line. I wait until he glances at me again. He reads my expression immediately.
“Want to talk in my office?”
“Yeah.” I trail after him as he leads me there.