“It’s our hope, our suspicion in fact, that the trail you uncover will lead to him.”
“I sincerely hope so. He and I have a score to settle.”
“This isn’t personal,” Sutter added.
“In this case I respectfully disagree, sir.” The more anti- and counterterrorism ops Crocker ran, the more he realized how personal it was—a clash of fundamental beliefs and will.
“We need you to launch within twenty-four hours,” Anders said. “Can you do that?”
“Of course we can,” Crocker answered.
“Then good luck.”
There were always complications—usually minor, sometimes major—having to do with getting his men ready to leave on a few hours’ notice. In this case, they were being asked to deploy a few days after a difficult mission in Afghanistan. Davis’s wife was expecting their second child in four weeks. Mancini had recently buried his younger brother, who died of pancreatic cancer, and was dealing with paying off his medical bills. Cal’s mother had died two months ago, and he was still settling her estate. Ritchie’s girlfriend, Monica, a real estate developer, wanted to get married. Akil was helping his Egyptian father refurbish his Alexandria, Virginia, jewelry store.
Crocker returned to find Holly sitting on the edge of their bed changing into gym clothes and sneakers.
She said, “I’ll pick up some salmon after my spin class. Do you mind grilling it with that lemon-mustard sauce you like?”
“Don’t bother, sweetheart. I’m leaving tonight on a nine o’clock flight out of Dulles.”
“Oh,” she said sadly. “So soon?”
“Yeah.” Crocker couldn’t tell her what the mission was about or where he was going.
“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” Holly asked.
He couldn’t tell her that, either. So he shook his head as he retrieved a black suitcase from the closet and zipped it open. It was prepacked with “business” clothes. He always kept his kit bags filled and ready for military deployments, and a suitcase for when he was traveling as a civilian. He checked to see if it contained garments appropriate for Bangkok. According to Yahoo! Weather, late November to early December was the beginning of the most temperate season, with lighter rainfall, average highs in the mid-eighties and the temperature dropping at night into the sixties.
When he turned to tell Holly that he hoped to be home before Christmas, her face was buried in her hands. He set the heavier-weight clothes he’d pulled from the suitcase on the bed and sat down beside her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“Nothing, Tom,” she answered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, gently. “What’s bothering you—Neal’s death, or Brian Shaw’s, or the kidnapping?”
“All three,” she sighed, squeezing his hand. In a low, even voice she told him that she was considering quitting her job at State Department Security and had recently discussed it with her boss. He’d suggested that she take a leave of absence and seek psychological counseling instead.
Crocker continued to switch out heavier clothes for lighter-weight wear—T-shirts, polo shirts, khaki pants—while staying mindful of the schedule he had to keep. “Maybe you should,” he said.
“You mean, do the counseling?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think I’m being…selfish?”
“Absolutely not,” Crocker said, stuffing his shaving kit in the suitcase and zipping up the outside pocket.
“I want to do the right thing, Tom,” Holly said through tears. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to discuss this with you.”
He didn’t want to tell her she had waited too long as he rechecked his watch and realized that he had to be at the base airport in thirty-five minutes to catch a flight to Andrews Air Force Base, outside D.C. From there he and the other five members of Black Cell would be ferried to Dulles by helicopter.
Taking her hand in his, he said, “Maybe the best thing to do is take a couple of months off, do the counseling thing, and see how that works.”
“What happens if a couple months isn’t enough?”
“Try the counseling,” he said. “Hopefully it works. If not, you can always ask for more time. Right?”
“I’m kind of scared to talk about it,” Holly admitted. “You know, the incident. They tortured Brian and made me watch. It wasn’t like what you see in a James Bond movie. You’re there, and you see the cruelty and the pain on his face, and you want to disappear and die.”