John Gilstrap - No mercy

“Where’s Ivan?” Jonathan demanded.

The man smiled. Then his eyes lost focus as his life soaked into the filthy floor.

The transfer went smoothly. Including Thomas and his parents and all of the surviving attackers, the Blackhawk took off just six minutes after it had touched down with a load of only eight civilians in the cargo bay. For enough money and the right connections, there were confidential solutions to every kind of problem. In about an hour, they’d all be off-loaded at an Army medical facility outside Cincinnati whose physicians and staff were used to providing outstanding medical care to people about whom it was their responsibility to know as little as possible. For Jonathan, access to the network of clandestine medical facilities both domestically and abroad was one of the great perks of his connection to the Unit.

Jonathan watch’m staying,” he said.

Insubordination from Boxers was more startling than sniper fire. “The hell you are,” Jonathan started to say, but he pulled the words back and opted for a softer approach. “It’s the plan,” he said.

“Plans change all the time. I’m not leaving you here to take the heat by yourself.”

Jonathan sighed. “Look, I appreciate the loyalty-”

“Then shut up and send the chopper on its way. We’re running out of time.”

Jonathan stepped around to stare him straight in the eye. Well, straight in the Adam’s apple anyway. “You’re medic trained. You can help the kid and his mom.”

“The bird is full of medics as it is. They don’t need me. I’m not letting you take the fall, Dig.”

“It was my mission, Box. And my fuck-up, and now this is my recovery plan. You’ve done-”

“I’m not going.”

Honest to God, they didn’t have time for this. Jonathan made one last try. “Tell you what. If things go wrong, and they end up taking me to jail, you can lead the mission to get me out.”

Even in the darkness, he could see the sparkle of interest. “Out of a jail here in the U.S.? No way.”

“If it goes that way, I’ll be counting on you.”

Boxers shifted his gaze back to the distance as he considered it. “You know that’s impossible.”

“I know no such thing. Not with you in charge.”

Boxers snorted, “You are so full of shit. What about her?” He nodded to Gail Bonneville, who held both hands to her head, which had obviously not yet cleared of the cobwebs caused by the blast wave of the claymores.

Jonathan smiled. “You know I’m a sucker for a pretty woman.” When he didn’t get the chuckle he was hunting for, he added, “The next call is hers. I made a deal.”

Boxers rose to his full height, gaining a couple of inches as he drew in a deep breath and then let it go as a noisy sigh. “I’m staying,” he said, but as the words came out, he stammered a little. He didn’t make a habit out of saying no to his boss.

Jonathan was stunned. He’d heard excuses before, and objections, but he couldn’t remember the last outright mutiny.

“If we need to break out of anywhere, we’ll do it from the inside,” Boxers said. He let his rifle fall against its sling. “I’ve made up my mind, so don’t bother to say nothin’ more.”

There it was. You didn’t get much less negotiable than that. As the Army chopper piloted by old friends powered up, Jonathan turned his back to the rotor wash and approached a vaguely familiar middle-aged man who looked like he’d been ripped out of bed and shoved into a pair of jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Boxers kept his distance. The newcomer’s expression showed equal parts horror and bewilderment.

“Will Joyce,” Jonathan said, extending a friendly, blood-spattered hand. “Nice to see you again.”

The man’s body didn’t move, but he cocked his head curiously. “Do we know each other?”

“Knowt at a handshake and stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. It was a gesture designed to be nonthreatening. “Only one ground rule before we begin. You either agree to it, or I call that chopper back and I send you home. You can write whatever you want about what you see, but you can’t use any of the names of people that you talk to tonight. Agreed?”

Will recoiled. “I can’t agree to that.”

Jonathan made a show of pressing the transmit button. “Rescue Flight, Scorpion.”

He’d unplugged his earphone jack, so Will could plainly hear the pilot reply, “Go ahead, Scorpion.”

Jonathan looked to Will. “It begins here or it ends here. It’s your call, and you don’t get a second chance. Do we have a deal or don’t we?”

You could almost see the thoughts racing through the reporter’s head. “Just the names?”

“Scorpion, do you have traffic for Rescue Flight?”

Jonathan keyed the mike. “Stand by.” To Will: “All parties remain anonymous. We’ll be a whole nest of Deep Throats. No names, no personal descriptions, nothing to make us identifiable to the outside world. And I warn you not to make a promise that you’re not willing to keep.”

Will stood there and sort of vibrated as he thought through his options. “Who’s she?” he asked, nodding at Gail.

“I got people waiting, Will. You either want this story or you don’t.”

Clearly against his better judgment, Will let go with a giant sigh. “Fine,” he blurted. “I agree.”

Jonathan scanned for signs of insincerity, then keyed his mike again. “Rescue Flight, disregard. Have a good night.” He flashed a smile to Will. “Where were we?”

“You were about to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“First tell me what you already know.”

Gail wandered up to stand next to Jonathan. She nodded in response to his glance to tell him that she was on the road to okay.

Will pulled a penlight out of his pocket and clicked it on, casting a beam into the night. It settled on a corpse. “Jesus,” he whispered. He brought his gaze around to Jonathan. “I got a call at home a few hours ago telling me to meet a driver at the front door if I wanted to snag the story that would make me famous. I had two minutes to make my decision. They said it had something to do with Tibor, so I threw on some clothes, and a guy who didn’t say much took me to a farmhouse in Middleburg, where that big chopper was waiting for me. For a while, I thought I’d walked into my own kidnapping.

“We were airborne for a half hour or so, and then we set down in another field, and just waited for instructions. I still don’t really know much about what’s going on, but they kept telling me that if I hung in there, I was going to get a hell of a story, and that no one else was going to have any piece of it.” He paused, as if pondering whether there was anymore to tell. “Is that enough?”

Jonathan nodded. “I think that sounds about right.” He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the coming monologue. “See, we had us a bit of a war out here tonight…”

Once he got started, it didn’t really take all that long to tell the story-at least the essence of it; the details could come later, in future interviews.

Will Joyce listened, checking his recorder was Will Joyce. Gail came next, Boxers last.

“And I need my radio back, please.” He knew better than to ask for his weapons.

Irene nodded, and his radio reappeared. He reconnected himself to the earpiece.

“Leave us alone,” Irene said to the nearby agents. “Suit back up to Level A and inventory that shed.”

The agent hesitated again. “Ma’am, I don’t think-” Then he saw the glare. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Let’s walk,” Irene said, heading down the hill toward Jonathan’s original ambush site.

“You come, too,” Jonathan said to Will. That Gail would follow was a given. To Irene, he said, “So, how does it feel being back in the thick of things again?”