Lawrence Block - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 129, No. 6. Whole No. 790, June 2007

“Nope, we’re here,” Sean replied. “That is, I’m here.”

The man peered furtively over a display stand of factory-produced pastries as if to verify this information. Sean’s hand rested lightly on the gun beneath the counter.

The customer returned to his study of packaged cakes and donuts.

“Need help with somethin’?” Sean offered pleasantly while scanning the parking lot for the man’s car. He spotted it just at the edge of the lot, almost out of sight of the store’s windows. The lights were off, but Sean thought he could make out two heads within, silhouetted by a distant street lamp. Was one of the occupants jumping up and down in his seat?

The man began to move and Sean’s attention shifted away from the car and back to him. He had made a selection and was carrying the box in both hands. Sean relaxed somewhat and brought both his hands to the counter in order to scan the tasty sponge cakes packed with a creamy artificial filler. The man seemed unable to look at Sean, and his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed alarmingly. He reeked of body odor, tobacco smoke, and a strange chemical smell.

“That it?” Sean asked as the fellow dug through his wallet.

“Yep,” he answered, glancing back toward the door. “Open all night?”

“Yep,” Sean answered back. “Just me.”

“Uh-huh,” the customer replied absently. He turned to leave, and had actually taken a few steps before remembering his purchase. “Damn,” he said under his breath, turning to snatch the box from the counter and hurrying out into the parking lot.

Sean watched the man lope into the deeper darkness, and his hand returned once more to the gun. After a few moments, there was the faint sound of a car starting and Sean saw headlights blaze into life. The driver took the farther exit, so Sean was unable to see the other occupants of the car, but he did see the telltale white gleam of the broken tail lens.

Though the company commander had put the word out that fraternization with unvetted civilians was prohibited, this was generally more observed in the breach as it applied to Ibrahim. The boy had long been a mascot at the fringes of the marines’ sprawling encampment within the airport, and as word spread of his display of bravura at CP 69, demand was high amongst the lower ranks for his company.

Demonstrating an appreciation of military politics far beyond his years, Ibrahim avoided the battalion and company command posts and officers in general, sticking to areas generally populated by the enlisted men. He could be counted upon to show up wherever the “grunts” were breaking open their “Meals Ready to Eat,” or MREs as they were commonly called, to make a repast of the marines’ donations. His high spirits, reputation for fearlessness, and vehement hatred of the shared enemy made him a welcome guest wherever he went.

Sean tried to discourage the boy from joining the marines at their combat posts, but he would have none of it. It seemed his bloodlust was equal to, or greater than, that of the Americans. When Sean asked him about this, he replied, “Pigs,” and pointed over the berm into Hooterville.

Colquitt chimed in with his own observation. “Bet you’d like to have one of these, wouldn’t ya?” He shook his M-16 at the boy, and Ibrahim made a lunge for it. Colquitt snatched it out of his grasp. “I guess,” he observed quietly.

“You’re Christian?” Sean asked the disappointed kid.

Ibrahim turned a hot gaze on the marine, then dug into his pocket. He thrust his fist out to Sean, then opened it to reveal an ornate silver cross on a chain cradled in his soiled palm.

“That’s somethin’,” Sean remarked. “How come you don’t wear it?”

Ibrahim drew a forefinger across his throat and grimaced in answer.

“I guess,” Colquitt said uneasily, casting a glance into Hooterville.

Sean, for the first time, thought of the boy making his way home to the Christian sector each night. “Big ones,” he muttered.

That night, it was Colquitt’s turn.

The evening had begun with the usual desultory and inaccurate bursts of fire from the ‘ville. It appeared that the marines’ determined response over the past few weeks had taken its toll on the militiamen, and for some time now, they appeared content to simply harass the Americans. Colquitt had just zeroed in on a fighter who foolishly kept returning to the same window when an uncharacteristically accurate burst of automatic fire from the street level tumbled him back down into the hole. Just like that, he was dead.

If Sean had been numb over the great slaughter that had befallen his fellow marines and miraculously spared him at the battalion command post, he was no longer. He did not weep for Colquitt, though the pain and grief he felt for the young man, whom he had known only a few short weeks, was a more piercing hurt than anything he had ever felt. In the loss of Colquitt he at last experienced the anguish of all that had gone before — the great hole in the earth that had swallowed the young men he had sweated with, cursed at, trained with, fought with, complained about, shared both boredom and terror with, now lay in his heart. The Corps did not have enough bullets for all he hoped to do.

The following night Sean returned to CP 69 with a powerful searchlight that he had stolen from one of the airport’s warehouses. Friends in the motor pool had helped him rig it to a jeep battery that they had enthusiastically, and secretly, donated in support of his scheme, with the promise of more as needed.

Surprisingly, to Sean, his squad sergeant gave him a reluctant go-ahead, but promised to shut down this new enterprise the minute it went wrong. Sean assured him it would not.

Ibrahim was fascinated with the whole idea and could not stay away from the contraption, so Sean put him to work. “It’s like this—” he explained to the excited youngster. “I’m gonna place the searchlight on top of the berm. You stay down in the hole with the battery. When I give you the word, you take this,” and here he held up a cable with an alligator clamp on the end — “and attach it to this,” and pointed to the positive terminal on the battery. “Got it?”

Ibrahim nodded his head and grinned. “Got it,” he promised.

Sean waited until it was completely dark and the flashes of the AK-47 muzzles could be clearly seen before he put things into action. Selecting a particularly persistent nest of snipers, he swiveled the light until he felt he had a pretty good line on the shooters, then called down to Ibrahim, “Do it!”

The brilliance of the beam threw the entire side of the building it was aimed at into relief, each brick suddenly separate from the others in detail. The shooters were caught like moths pinned to velvet, their hands flying up to their eyes with a cry, their weapons clattering to the rubble-strewn floor of their position. Sean, situated well away from the light, wasted no time; he took both out with a controlled burst of fire, and then launched a grenade from his M-203 that finished whoever remained hidden within the room. “Kill the light,” he called out to Ibrahim. The building returned to darkness as the members of Sean’s squad scuttled up to slap him on the back and offer their heartfelt congratulations. Sean ruffled Ibrahim’s tousled head affectionately. “We got some,” he said to the boy.

“Get some more,” Ibrahim responded, his white teeth visible even in the gloom of the bunker, though it did not look like a smile.

The rest of the night was more of the same, and Sean’s body-count was becoming the stuff of marine legend. It seemed to Sean that the militiamen were slow learners.

The next evening proved otherwise.

Sean and his section had no sooner relieved the combat post when they came under intense and accurate fire. It seemed that as quickly as they shifted from one fighting position and began to return fire, they would be driven to another. Neither camouflage nor darkness proved a deterrent, and Sean was unable to place his search lamp on the berm for fear of the enemy’s newfound marksmanship. He wondered morosely if the Syrian Army had directly entered the fray at last. They lost one killed and two wounded.