Edge of the Heat 6 (2 page)

“He thinks your Uncle Kevin is selling secrets to the Russians.” Dani’s mom widened her eyes and pulled her chin back, highlighting the abhorrence of this act.

“Selling secrets to the Russians? But why? We aren’t at war with the Russians anymore. And what secrets? I know he’s a Colonel in the Marines, but that’s not like a General or anything. I can’t imagine he has access to a lot of secrets. Just stuff that his own unit is doing, and why would the Russians care about that?” Dani rolled her mind inward, knowing her mother wouldn’t speculate. It wasn’t in her nature. She never cared about the Marines like the family that she had married into did. Almost every male Clarkson in the last 3 generations had been in the Marines. Dani’s 2 older sisters were both in the Marines. Dani herself had considered joining the Marines, but instead she served as the military correspondent for KUV-TV, the fastest growing internet news channel in the world. No one knew more about the U.S. Military than Dani did, and especially about the Marines. She had learned at the knee of her father, grandfather, and uncle for her entire life. And she truly loved the history. It was fascinating to her.

“Really mom, why couldn’t Uncle Kevin just have gotten all this money some other way?”

Dani’s mother sighed and put aside the magazine she had picked up. “OK, I’m going to tell you this, but you have to swear not to tell your father I told you.” Dani nodded. This was typical in her family. Dad left all the explaining, telling and emotional stuff to mom. And mom always made you swear not to tell dad she told you. “Your Uncle Kevin borrowed $100,000 from us three years ago. And a week ago he sent us a check, paying it all off in one lump sum. Your dad asked around to find out how he got it, and he doesn’t like the answers he’s been getting.”

Dani’s mouth dropped open. “You had $100,000 to just give to him? Like that?”

“No, we didn’t. We had some cash, maybe about a third of it, but we mortgaged the house to get him the rest of it.”

Dani felt her jaw unhinge and drop farther open. “You mortgaged the house? But why did he need $100,000?”

“Your dad said that he and his
wife
,” — she said the word wife like it made her feel dirty. Dani knew her mom never had liked Uncle Kevin’s wife, Cheryl, but her mother only had recently let her see exactly how deep the dislike went. “ — they got themselves into some trouble. See, they like to gamble, Daniela. Both of them. That’s one of the reasons why you and your sisters were never allowed alone at their house after things got bad. They are both, quite simply, gambling addicts.”

Dani shook her head. Was this really happening? Uncle Kevin a gambling addict? “So why would you lend them $100,000?” she asked incredulously.

“Because if we didn’t, someone was going to come and break their legs. Even Kenny’s.”

Dani stiffened. 3 years ago her cousin Kenny would have been 14 years old. And whoever Uncle Kevin owed money too would break the legs of a teenager? She shuddered at the thought.

A thought struck Dani cold. “Mom, when Dad found out about Uncle Kevin’s gambling problem, he should have reported it to the Corps. He didn’t do that, did he?” Dani didn’t even know why she was asking. Of course he didn’t, or Uncle Kevin wouldn’t be in the Marines anymore. But she still watched her mother shake her head no, a sick anxiety growing in her gut.

Dani jumped up and ran to the back door to find her father. He was
going
to talk to her straight, whether he wanted to or not.

T minus 3 Days

On a C-17 Globemaster Airplane Somewhere over the Atlantic

JT took a deep breath and readied himself to read the letter again. No matter how he looked at it, the letter was bad news. Horrible news. Horrible enough that he had talked himself into a ride on an Army Globemaster back to the Middle East the very day after he got it. And he still felt like he should have left the minute after he got it.

But wasn’t that always how it went? When you were in the military, the worst news always came by letter. Or at least for him it did.

He’d been sadly and slowly sorting through his mother’s household items so he could move it all out of her apartment. Instead, he paid the Super of her apartment to haul it all away and clean the place up and he’d driven to the nearest military base and started asking how fast he could get to Camp Patriot in Kuwait.

JT wiped imaginary lint off the pockets of his uniform. This was the uniform he’d worn home 4 days ago. He hadn’t even had time to get it cleaned and pressed. It didn’t look
too
bad, but it wasn’t up to his usual standards. As his hands passed over his cargo pockets, he felt something in the right one.
His mother’s letter.
As soon as he made it to her hospital bedside, she’d placed it in his hands, squeezed his arm with the little strength she’d had left, and closed her eyes. He had put it in his pocket and forgotten about it until now. She had died 2 hours after he got there, and he’d had her cremated the next day, according to her wishes. There was no family to attend any services. It had always been him and her against the world. Briefly, he wondered if the letter held information about who his father was. That was one thing she had never told him. She’d always said ‘you’re better off without him, Jon,’ and the few times he’d pressed she had withdrawn and seemed scared. He loved his mother, and didn’t like to see her like that. So he didn’t press often.

His fingers caressed the letter through his pocket. He would read it. But first he had to read Shane’s letter again. Even if the letter in his pocket did name his father, that information had very little bearing on the crisis he would find when he got back to work. His mother’s letter could wait.

He wanted a plan of action fixed firmly in his mind. He would figure out a plan. Then he would sleep. And as soon as they landed in Kuwait he would follow the plan.

He unfolded the sheet of paper he had printed Shane’s email out on, and began to read.

Dear JT,

God I wish you were here. If you had been here two nights ago I wouldn’t be in this shitty mess right now. I fucked up man. And because I fucked up, everybody is dead. Our whole squad is dead. Jack, Danny, Vegas, Gadge, Howie, Grantz, Jefferson. We got hit with RPGs man. We were out in the middle of the fucking night doing some fucked up secret mission for the Colonel and when it was done we piled into the Humvees and took off. We didn’t even get a half mile down the road before everything fucking exploded. I don’t even know what happened really. From what I have been able to piece together, we were slammed with the artillery and then whoever fucking jammed us rolled up on us and pumped a hundred bullets into each of us. Some Bedouin found us the next morning and I was still alive, because I was under somebody. I don’t know who, thank God. He took all my fucking bullets - well most of em anyway. They humped me out of there and turned me over to the Monks. The Monks called the Marines and I was evac’d to Camp Patriot. That’s where I am now. In the Medical Clinic. I might be shipped out to Mattras Hospital soon  though. I have 26 bullets in my right leg. Ha ha. But get this. I don’t have to worry about them because they are just going to cut that leg off. Ha ha. I’m laughing to keep from screaming right now. It scares the nurses, ya know? And I can’t afford to scare the nurses. Col Clarkson came through here an hour ago. He looked mad enough to spit fucking nails. I think because I was alive. Can you believe that? And he ordered a fucking communications shutdown for me. No fucking email. No fucking phone calls. Nothing. I talked the civilian nurse into letting me use her phone to email you. All the medics are too fucking scared of the Colonel to even think about it. I don’t fucking know what’s going on man, but I’m scared. I'm scared the Colonel fucking wants me dead. And I don’t know what to do about it. Even if I could call up the General right now, it’s not like he’d believe me. Know what I mean? I’m sure the Colonel has his ass covered 6 ways to Sunday. For all I know the official story is that I took everybody out there for no reason. No one will TALK TO ME. No one’s saying anything. The only reason I even know about the Bedouins and everybody being dead is the civilian nurse. Her name is Cindy. I think she likes me. At least I know the ladies will still like me with only one leg. But will they like me when I’m fucking court martialed?!!  That’s why I had to write you J - you gotta find out what’s going on. You gotta get back here and help me and figure out what the Col is up to. Here’s what he did. He woke me up in the middle of the night on Tuesday. It was right around midnight. He called me into his office and said we had a mission and we had 25 minutes to be on the road. I asked him why Master Sergeant wasn’t giving the orders and he said he’d been called away on business. I said OK and I got everyone up and moving. He gave me coordinates and said we were to set up a hot perimeter and shoot anything that moved. I was fucking nervous as hell. I’m not supposed to be leading a hot mission. But nothing moved and we didn’t shoot anything. I don’t know what we set up a perimeter for. There was a tent in the middle. No one came in or out of it while we were there. He gave me a mission phone, and when he called us off we left. That was it. And then the shit storm. Man I wish you’d been here JT. You would have known what to do. You would have told him to fuck off. I should have told him to fuck off. God I’m sorry man. Shane

JT folded the letter in his hands and put his head back against the headrest. Shane Teagan was the Staff Sergeant under him, and his best friend in the world. And Jack was dead? Howie too?
The whole damn squad?
How did this happen? What kind of a secret mission did the Colonel send them on? And why? Shane was right, he wasn’t supposed to lead a hot mission. Not in the Sinai Peninsula. And the Master Sergeant should have been the one giving the orders, not the Colonel. The whole situation was a colossal fuck up. And why did Shane think he was going to be blamed for it? JT racked his brain, trying to read between the lines. The whole email was rushed and he knew it didn’t tell the full story.

When he’d first gotten it, he’d prayed it was somebody’s idea of a sick joke. He knew Shane wouldn’t do something like that, and neither would any of the other guys in the squad. So maybe someone in another squad who didn’t like him? Or didn’t like Shane? But who. That didn’t make any sense.

He’d called the unit. And been told that the Colonel was away in Kuwait. Which is where Camp Patriot was. And the Master Sergeant was not in either. And the FNG he’d been talking to on the phone didn’t know anymore than that. Then he’d called the Medical Clinic at Camp Patriot. The Army Specialist he’d talked to wouldn’t say whether or not Shane Teagan was a patient. And he wouldn’t say anything else either. And when JT demanded to talk to his Sergeant, he’d just gotten hung up on. JT ground his teeth at the memory. That Army Specialist better hope JT didn’t run into him.

Because that was the plan. As soon as he landed in Kuwait, he’d go see Shane and get the full story. Then he would look up Colonel Clarkson and ask him exactly what had gone down that night.

A plan made, JT laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. The heavy equipment behind him creaked and moaned as the plane bumped over the light turbulence. He didn’t bother checking his watch, but knew there was at least 12 hours left in this flight. Luckily, he was the only passenger, sharing the huge cargo hold with only some Army tanks. He shoved out of his seat and unrolled his pack. If the turbulence stayed light, he should sleep well.

Gunnery Sergeant Jon Phillip Taylor, JT to his friends, rolled out his pack, laid down, and fell asleep almost instantly.

T minus 72 hours

Still on the C-17 Globemaster Airplane Flying over Europe

JT moaned in his sleep, waking himself in an instant, hazy images of red hair and freckles vanishing as his eyes opened. He checked his watch. 5 hours till landing. He’d slept for what, seven hours? And
the dream
had woken him up. He hadn’t had
the dream
in three or four years. Heavy stress used to bring it on. And apparently it still did. Especially heavy stress about him not being able to protect someone he loved. JT rubbed his forehead. Why did life have to suck so much sometimes? Why was the world so dangerously imperfect?

He stretched, then rolled his sleeping roll up again. He didn’t want to sleep anymore.

JT prowled the cargo bay and wished for windows to look out. He knew it was night-time, but he wanted to see it. He thought about wandering up to the cockpit and decided against it. The Army pilots hadn’t seemed very friendly.

He returned to his seat and sat down, feeling like he was forgetting something. He went over the plan again. It was simple. See Shane. Find the Colonel. Nothing to forget there.

He stared off into space for a moment, letting his mind wander. It stuttered instead, but finally he remembered.
His mother’s letter.

His hands went to his pocket and retrieved the letter.
JT
written on the front in handwriting he didn’t recognize. He opened the letter, and realized his mother must have had at least one stroke before she’d written that letter because her handwriting was almost nothing like normal. Too big, shaky. Like an old woman’s. The realization that his mother was dead speared through him again, stealing any peace of mind he’d found with 7 hours of sleep and a plan. He was truly alone in the world. A non-existent father, a dead mother, a dead wife. A dead squad. He had Shane though. He fixed Shane’s face in his mind and smiled. “Coming to see you buddy, a few more hours,
”
he whispered into the cavernous airplane.