Monster (71 page)

“That was sweet, boys,” McDaniels said finally as the Marines quickly loaded everything into the armored vehicles.

The adrenaline rush dispelled slowly. McDaniels watched the young warriors winding down in their own ways, taking stock of their gear and only breathing normally when they had cleared the town’s limits. A corpsman worked over the prisoners professionally, washing off the blood and dust resulting from close quarter concussion grenades.

“Will they live, Doc?” Dominguez joked with the squad’s medic.

“Yes, Sir, but they won’t be hearing much of anything for a while.”

“Boo hoo,” Bocelli commented, evoking laughter from the other Marines riding in the carrier.

Chapter 50

Stuckey

Colonel Martinson waited near the entrance to the camp. Three men dressed in dark camouflage suits accompanied him. The man next to Martinson was bald. They watched the approaching armored carriers intently. Fifty other Marines were deployed around the outskirts of the camp and their main batteries were manned. Two Apache helicopter gun-ships were in the air patrolling the area from the town to the camp.

“This is a little overkill wouldn’t you say, Colonel?” The bald man commented.

“No such thing, Stuckey,” Martinson replied without taking his eyes off the approaching vehicles. “I only called you in on this because I don’t want any more scenes like the last time you were here.”

“Anything with McDaniels’ involvement should be reported to me well before the mission begins. His…”

“Listen, you little…” Martinson turned on the man. Stuckey’s companions moved back a step.

“Easy, Colonel.” Stuckey held his hands up. “I have no beef with you. I’ve worked with McDaniels before. We should have had the Cleric in custody with the rest of his men. If…”

“That went down just the way it was told to you, asshole,” Martinson cut him off. “If any of these bastards didn’t make it out alive that’s just too damn bad. What the hell do you think this is, Stuckey, some kids playing cowboys and Indians in the back yard?”

The armored carriers came through the throng of security. They stopped near the waiting men.

“Wow,” Dominguez said, getting a look at who was waiting, “Brando made it here fast, Cold.”

“Remember, you guys.” McDaniels looked around at the Marines. “This is just how we want it. Unless Colonel Martinson asks you something directly let me do the talkin’.”

“Rah!” Came the chorus of acknowledgment.

McDaniels and the Marines disembarked quickly with their prisoners. Dominguez saluted Colonel Martinson formally.

“Great job, men.” Martinson shook the Lieutenant’s hand after returning his salute. He looked over the disoriented prisoners. “Any problems?”

“No, Sir,” Dominguez replied. McDaniels stayed near Bocelli and the rest of the squad. “No casualties and Doc said these guys will be fine once their ears stop ringin’. I see they won’t be with us long.”

“You know our mission liaison and his men, Lieutenant,” Martinson said. “He’ll take the prisoners from here. I…”

“Only three, Jer?” Stuckey called out to McDaniels.

“Nice to see you too, Stuckey,” McDaniels waved at the CIA man in the graying light of dawn. “That you under the beard, Mike?”

“Yeah, Mac,” the smaller man next to Stuckey replied, coming over to shake McDaniels’ hand. He glanced back at the other CIA man near Stuckey. “I heard about your exploits in the states. What is it they call him, Al?”

“Cold Mountain,” Al answered, coming over and extending his hand to McDaniels. “I’m Al Schuler, Colonel. We’ve chewed the same sand a few times.”

McDaniels shook Schuler’s hand. “No doubt we have, Al. I…”

“Cut the crap, McDaniels,” Stuckey interrupted, walking over to McDaniels. He gestured at the slung rifle case. “I see you’re carrying. How many didn’t make it?”

“Lieutenant Dominguez and his squad took everyone in the house alive. I observed and guarded the back door.”

“You know I’ll get it from these guys.” Stuckey pointed at the prisoners. “There’ll be an accounting if I find out they had any pals who didn’t make it out alive.”

“There were only three in the house, Sir,” Bocelli stated, ignoring McDaniels’ warning look.

“Stay out of this, Jed,” McDaniels ordered gently. “Take these guys and find out whatever you can. I ain’t going anywhere.”

“That’s good advice, Stuckey,” Martinson said, angrily walking over to join the group. “This is the last time I’m reminding you that you ain’t in charge of this camp.”

Stuckey nodded at his men. They took charge of the bound prisoners. “If you have anything to add to this, McDaniels, you better spit it out now.”

“Adios.” McDaniels gave Stuckey a little finger wave, much to the amusement of the Marines around him.

“Should I know why this Stuckey guy hates your guts,” Martinson asked. They watched the CIA men load the prisoners into a special armored carrier with an enclosed retaining cell in the back.

“Hell, John, I ain’t even sure why,” McDaniels admitted. “It might be the publicity. Maybe Stuckey feels like he ain’t getting the press exposure he thinks he should.”

Martinson laughed. “Maybe. Can he make any trouble for you on this mission?”

“Nope. Stuckey don’t know it yet but like I was telling Abe and Jed, he ain’t in my pay grade on this mission.”

* * *

“You sent for me, John?” McDaniels inquired, ducking through the entrance of Martinson’s headquarters.

“We have your ass this time,” Stuckey said. He stood up from his seat next to Martinson’s desk.

“Shut up!” Martinson ordered, leaning forward in his chair. “The CIA has some questions for you, Colonel. Pull up a chair.”

McDaniels nodded at Stuckey’s men who were seated across from where Stuckey stood and sat down in the empty chair in front of Martinson’s desk.

“Ihsan al Shaif,” Stuckey stated. He sat down again and folded his arms across his chest. “Where is he?”

“Who?” McDaniels asked.

“Did you think his men wouldn’t tell us he was missing?” Stuckey went on with a smile of satisfaction.

“I hope you spent some time trying to find out something useful.”

“Listen, you arrogant asshole, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of a non-combatant.”

“Non-combatant?” McDaniels laughed. “Let’s stop playing games, Rick. What the hell do you want? I’ve given you everything you could hope for in this border area. You have contacts in Syria you would have sold your soul for. Thanks to Dominguez and his Marines you have the local thugs under control. Why not…”

“Al Shaif,” Stuckey interrupted. “Where is he?”

“In hell.” McDaniels answer caused Martinson to sit back away from his desk with a sigh of resignation.

“You killed the Cleric too, didn’t you?” Stuckey smiled knowingly at his two men. They were not as amused as their boss.

“Nope. I would have but the Iraqi woman he’d been terrorizing was familiar with what pussies we Americans have become. She decided to make sure she wasn’t the victim of our suicidal tendency to release our enemies using ACLU rules of engagement.”

“You’re going to prison for this, McDaniels. Where’s the body?”

“It’s part of the landscape. Now, I’ve answered your questions, you answer mine, Rick. What’s this really about?”

“When I sent you home after your escapades in Fallujah, I figured the next time I heard anything about you it would be your obituary explaining how you died in prison. What happens instead? You turn into a national celebrity when some dumb shit Senator decides to use you as his personal assassin. Now they dump your psycho ass in a border hotspot like some superhero from hell and…”

“And I get the job done, Rick,” McDaniels cut him off with a wave of his hand. “C’mon, we’re at war. Al Shaif was personally responsible for countless torture killings. He’s dead. Well wahhhh… light a candle for him and move on.”

Stuckey glanced balefully at his two men when they started laughing and trying to suppress it at the same time. Martinson kept silent, wondering why McDaniels had admitted to killing the missing insurgent at all.

“What the hell do you think is so funny, Largent?” Stuckey asked, gritting his teeth.

“Mac’s right,” Mike Largent replied. “What the hell are we draggin’ this out for, Rick?”

“What about you, Al?” Stuckey turned to Schuler who held up his hands as if in self-defense.

“I don’t know what we’re all sitting around here for in the first place,” Schuler answered. “If Colonel Martinson doesn’t give a crap about this, let it go, Rick. Make your report. Let Washington deal with the details. This ain’t our gig.”

Stuckey stood up. He turned away in disgust, his fists clenched at his sides. “Take McDaniels into custody, Colonel. I’ll have him picked up later in the day.”

“Not going to happen, Stuckey,” Martinson replied. Stuckey twisted toward the Colonel, angry surprise highlighting his features.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. I ain’t a jailer. Although Colonel McDaniels reports to me, I am not the next link in his chain of command.”

“We’re on the same side, Rick,” McDaniels said. “Quit chewing on this. I…”

“I’ll put your ass in chains myself if I have to!” Stuckey pointed a warning finger at McDaniels.

McDaniels pulled out a satellite phone and pressed a button. He listened for a moment as even Stuckey seemed confused by McDaniels’ indifference.

“McDaniels here, Sir, wait one.” McDaniels handed the phone to Stuckey. “It’s for you, Rick.”

Stuckey hesitated, staring at the phone with unbelieving eyes. His shoulders slumped slightly as he took the phone from McDaniels gingerly.

“Stuckey here.”

The other men in the room watched Stuckey’s face drain of any residual emotion he may have been feeling. Stuckey sat down slowly in his chair again as he listened.

“I understand the order, Sir,” Stuckey mumbled. He then repeated the same phrase louder as if by request. He returned the phone to McDaniels.

“McDaniels. Yes, thank you.”

“What the hell was that, Rick?” Largent asked.

Stuckey looked up at his men as if he were confused as to where he was. He ran both hands over his shaved scalp. He stared at McDaniels with a wry expression.

“McDaniels is from this moment forward our commanding officer,” Stuckey stated.

Largent and Schuler shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. They glanced from McDaniels to Stuckey with some trepidation. Martinson did not comment but a smile spread over his face, thwarting any attempt to repress it.

“Well… Sir,” Stuckey spat out. “What are your orders?”

McDaniels stood up. He extended his hand to Stuckey. “Thank you for your service, Rick. Carry on with what you’ve been doing. I will be out of your hair soon. The call was just to relieve you of any kind of responsibility my actions may cause.”

Stuckey stared at McDaniels’ hand in silence. He then grasped it in a firm handshake. “How do you know I won’t out you to the press behind your back?”

“You ain’t that kind of man.” McDaniels released his hand. He shook hands with Largent and Shuler. “I know you guys have all done a hell of a job. I wanted to be in a position to say so to your faces without anything hanging. In answer to your question, Rick, there’s nobody, and you only have the word of three foreign murderers backing you up.”

Stuckey grinned. “Maybe I’m wired.”

McDaniels took a small electronic device out of his vest pocket. “This says no.”

Stuckey turned to Martinson. “You okay with writing off Al Shaif’s murder, Colonel?”

“Who?”

Largent and Schuler both laughed at Martinson’s deadpan expression of ignorance. Stuckey nodded and stood up again, gesturing for his men to follow.

“See ya in the funny papers, McDaniels,” Stuckey said with a small salute before striding out of the room.

“You get tired of the superhero gig, Mac, you come look me up.” Largent followed his superior out the door.

“Ditto,” Schuler commented, on the heels of Largent. “Can I send you my wish list of candidates for premature burial?”

McDaniels and Martinson both laughed as Schuler closed the door behind him.

“Who the hell was that on the phone, Cold?” Martinson asked.

“That’s classified, Colonel,” McDaniels said regretfully. Be glad not everyone in our government is a pussy.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how reassuring that information is,” Martinson commented happily, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Dismissed.”

“Rah!” McDaniels barked, turning sharply and exiting Martinson’s office.

Chapter 51

Mehmed

“Are you sure it will be all right with the Cold Mountain for me to stay here?” Mehmed asked Rasheed as he looked around the large loft. “This is very nice.”

“He would not have had AD Reskova tell me to let you stay here if he did not mean it.” Rasheed knew the young man had probably never stayed in a place by himself. “One thing though, do not touch anything you find here other than regular furniture, bedding, or kitchen appliances. In other words, do not get curious.”