“There is an exit plan.”
“You’re sure about that?” asked Robie.
“And with no local help?” Reel added.
Tucker’s features darkened. “You managed to get out of Syria and back home without the benefit of any local help,” he barked, momentarily losing his temper. He took another gulp of water and wiped his face.
“And the margin for error there was so narrow as to be nonexistent,” said Robie. “We hoped for better this time around.”
“There will be assets there to help you. Our assets. We will get you out. That I promise.”
Reel leaned forward and studied him. “And why the change of heart, Director? You go from waterboarding us to try and get a signed confession to being concerned for our personal welfare.”
“I already explained that to you,” Tucker said in an exasperated tone. More calmly he added, “Things have changed.”
Reel sat back. “Yes, I think they have. This isn’t the original mission you’d envisioned. Something happened and now we’re being sent in to clean up a mess.” She leaned forward again. “So what was the original mission?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Tucker.
“Sure you do. It’s as plain as the spooked look in your eyes and the beads of sweat on your forehead.” She paused and added, “Does the president know?”
Tucker rose and gripped his coffee. “You’ll receive training briefs in a few minutes. Once you get to France you will do a practice scenario and come up to speed on every aspect of the op. You will do the hit and you will return home.” He paused. “You do that,” he said, staring directly at Reel, “and all will be forgiven.”
Reel stood too and looked directly back at him.
“That’s very nice, Director, only I don’t remember asking for your forgiveness.”
Chapter
27
EARL FONTAINE ROLLED OVER IN his bed and looked at the man opposite him.
“Hey, Junior,” he said. “Junior? Junior, wake your ass up.”
Junior finally stirred and looked over at him. “What?” he said dully.
“Hear your butt’s going back to death row today.”
“Huh, where’d you hear that, old man?”
“Keep my ears open. Don’t just sleep all day like you do. You got to enjoy life, boy, while you can. Pretty soon all you’ll be doing is sleeping six feet under the ground with mold growing on you.”
Junior snorted. “Being cremated, dumbass.”
“They gonna sprinkle your ashes where you come from? Which outhouse is that, Junior?”
Junior rattled his chain ominously. “You lucky I’m over here and you’re over there.”
“Guess so. Don’t want you to shit on me like you been doing on yourself.”
Junior grinned. “Know me something, old man.”
Earl returned the smile. “What’s that? How to count to ten?”
“You know what I’m talking ’bout. The doc. And that load’a bullshit you laying on her.”
“Don’t know what you talking ’bout, boy.”
“Your daughter, huh? Bet you ain’t got no daughter.”
“Sure I do, son. Sure I do.”
“I’m thinking you got something up and I need to talk to somebody.”
Earl sat up. “Is that right? You gonna talk to somebody? What you gonna say?”
Junior absently scratched his chin. “Now, I been thinkin’ on that. Been thinkin’ what could Earl Fontaine and his fat ass be up to?”
“And what your little pea brain say back to you, huh?”
“It says to me that Earl Fontaine got some scam going. He wants to get somebody down here to see him for some reason ain’t nobody but him knows about.”
“Damn, son, you good. You real good.”
“Yes, I am,” said Junior firmly.
“But who you gonna tell who’ll believe your ass? They killing you pretty damn soon. You nothing to them but some statistic. One more asshole with a number they making leave this here world. So long, Alabama.”
“I say my piece with the doc. Women? I can be pretty damn convincing.”
“I bet you can.” Earl rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “Yessir, I bet you damn sure can. Sure, I can see that. Hell, you like that movie star, what’s his name? Brad Pitt? Gals throw their underwear at that boy.”
“So soon as I see her again, she gonna hear from me.”
“But you going back to death row before she comes back.”
“So’s I tell me somebody else. Or I tell her come see me in there.”
“I believe you would. I do indeed.”