Brothers in Arms (11 page)

The Feds tacked up documents detailing several multimillion-dollar no-bid contracts that had been awarded to KNG, Eros, and Deepwater. Beside those documents hung several photos of high-ranking government officials and corporate officers for the three security contractor firms. Giammona drew arrows between photos to illustrate the complex associations that facilitated the corruption. Carlene hung copies of correspondence and investigation notes the FBI had compiled through search warrants and legal wire taps. The proof of collusion was right there for Jonah to read.

Kellan and Milagros pinned plastic bags containing collected evidence to the wall. Carlene added note cards that outlined the evidence they had obtained from their interrogation of the old man. They had their link between the defense contractors and the supply chain that got the munitions into Iraq for distribution.

They left a portion of the wall bare, ready to add evidence and notes as they gathered it.

“So,” Keef mused. “The Big Three are in collusion to supply the enemy with munitions to keep killing American service men and women.”

“Not to mention their own employees, since the enemy doesn’t bother to discriminate,” Carlene added.

“And in ensuring the continued deaths of American service personnel, they ensure the continuation of armed conflict around the globe. There’s always genocide to contravene, a dictator to overthrow, or a civil war to support, and when Americans are targeted,” Giammona concluded, “no one protests throwing taxpayer money at the problem.”

“That about what you thought was going on, Kellan?” Keef asked.

Kellan nodded. “That’s about it. The only link you’re missing is how the components get from the outlying suppliers, like the old man in the hamlet, to actually be placed in IED devices, with the specific intent of injuring Americans.”

Jonah was enveloped by a rage so cold it burned. Fuck those faceless cowards who would kill fellow Americans for profit. Maybe they’d appreciate a surprise late visit from Jonah and his Ka-Bar. He’d really like to shove them all into a Humvee and let
them
roll through Iraq wondering where the next IED was going to be.

“I suspect that last piece of the puzzle will be found in the apartment building Grizzly visited.”

“Can I conclude then, ladies and gentlemen, said building is our destination tomorrow morning?” Jonah asked, needing to end the meeting and get some air. He needed time to think this through, to come to terms with what he’d just learned.

“You can indeed, Gunnery Sergeant,” Keef sighed. “You can indeed.”

“Excellent. We’re done here, then.” Jonah crossed the room and managed not to take the door off its hinges. He headed right for the front door of the manor house.

Anger seared Jonah’s insides. He wanted to run the perimeter of the firm base, but he knew it wasn’t safe. His fury nipped at his heels, driving him away from the manor house and toward—he didn’t know what. Jonah needed to pace, to use up the energy of his rage. He kept running into cammie nets, Humvees, ammo cans, and trash. He balled his fist to punch something, and then stopped himself. He was right-handed and he needed that hand to pull the trigger. Jonah’s wrath tangled with frustration and he kicked viciously at rocks in the dirt.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Kellan’s words carried to Jonah, even before he stepped around a Humvee and into view.

Jonah’s temper dissipated slightly at the sound of Kellan’s voice, as desire edged up his spine and settled in his belly. He damn well needed to get that reaction under control. The rapid ricochet of Jonah’s emotions threw him off and fucked with his equilibrium. He jammed his curled fists onto his hips. “You knew this was going to happen, Kellan?” Jonah winced at the accusation in his own voice.

Kellan drew a deep breath and seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I wrote an opinion for my consulting firm that dealt with the Big Three getting so many no-bid government contracts,” he said as he slowly approached Jonah. “I concluded they have strategically placed allies in the government to ensure they continue to make billions of dollars off of America’s armed conflicts.”

“You wrote the synopsis for a Tom Clancy novel, and the President decided to send you to Iraq?” Jonah wanted Kellan to tell him he was right and it was all fiction.

Kellan came to stand directly in front of Jonah. He chuffed a laugh. “The President was dubious too when he read it. Still, he thought my arguments were sound enough to warrant a cursory investigation.”

Jonah took in Kellan’s familiar features: his lashes, the small mole beneath his left eye, and finally his mouth. “Obviously, the investigation turned up something.”

Kellan wet his bottom lip before he spoke. “The Attorney General has built a fairly strong case for corruption. She just can’t go before Congress and the President and say she
thinks
American weapons and munitions are being provided to the enemy for use against our own military personnel. So, she reached out to the State Department to find evidence of the supply chain here in Iraq.”

“They sent Grizzly?”

“Correct. And when they did, I issued another opinion that postulated he would be killed, using American-supplied weapons, in order to halt the investigation.”

“Hell.” Jonah sighed, tilting his head back to look blindly at the sky. He remembered all the friends he’d lost since this conflict had begun. His earlier rage flared again.

“I intended that first opinion to be a neutral stand for my consulting agency. We’ve received substantial funding from the Big Three, and I wanted it clear their money couldn’t influence us.”

“And then Grizzly was killed, making the investigation FBI jurisdiction, and since you’ve accurately predicted how things so far would go down, the President decided you should come provide guidance,” Jonah concluded with a harsh laugh.

“Which I could easily have done from DC, but I thought it would be fun to drop in and say hi.”

“There are these amazing things called e-mail and cell phones, you know.” Jonah’s rage melted further away as he smiled. “You didn’t have to get yourself airlifted to Iraq.”

“Well, the opportunity just presented itself.” Kellan grinned.

Jonah was pretty glad he hadn’t resorted to e-mail.

“You know, sir, I read that book of yours about the invasion.” Jonah poked Kellan square in the chest with one finger. “When you run for president, I’m not voting for you if you run as a Democrat.”

Kellan’s laugh sent a shockwave rolling through Jonah.

“I have no intention of running for president,” he said.

“Well, maybe not right away. You’ll do some time in congress or the senate. Then you’ll become the governor of New York. Maybe Massachusetts. Then you’ll make your run at the White House.”

“Actually, I’m more a ‘power behind the throne’ kind of guy.” Jonah felt a sort of perverse fascination as Kellan reached out and hooked two fingers into the waist of Jonah’s trousers.

“Is that a fact?” Jonah searched Kellan’s face.

“More to the point, some of the most powerful positions in DC are not elected but appointed.” Kellan leaned in, voice conspiratorial.

“You’re not an attorney, so you can’t be a judge,” Jonah mused. Kellan was standing so close, Jonah caught the scent of him and lost his train of thought.

“No, but there are cabinet positions. Say, Secretary of the Navy. Secretary of Defense.” Kellan paused. “Secretary of State.”

“Well then, Mister Secretary,” Jonah said solemnly. He believed Kellan would someday achieve that very thing. He wondered in passing what Kellan would do if Jonah leaned in and kissed him.

“Stop teasing me,” Kellan said, his expression serious.

Jonah became acutely aware of Kellan’s hand touching him. It was only teasing if Jonah didn’t mean it. He wasn’t teasing. He didn’t think Kellan was, either.

“When we’re both Stateside again, I’ll show you I’m not teasing.” The words were spoken before Jonah could stop them. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. This was the part where Kellan would tell him how much he’d enjoy a passing friendship with a former Team Leader; as if he was unaware this was exactly how things had started between them before.

Instead, Kellan looked pleased, and Jonah realized, with deep satisfaction,
that
was the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I’m counting on it. For now, though, why don’t you head back inside, and I’ll be in shortly.”

One corner of Kellan’s mouth lifted in a brief smile. “Good night, Jonah,” he said quietly, before he turned and climbed the steps into the firm base.

“Good night, Kellan.”

Jonah took a cleansing breath and released it slowly. He rolled his head, stretching out the once tense muscles that had relaxed sometime during the last few minutes.

With a final upward glance, this time seeing the sky, Jonah followed Kellan inside, realizing he would finally be able to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

Jonah and his team got an earlier start the next morning than they had planned. A PFC Jonah was too tired to recognize woke him long before first light. Assassin-Two-One had located a weapons cache. A huge one.

The Feds were ecstatic at the news, despite the lack of sleep. They were in the victors and ready to step off at the same time as the Marines.

At Neil’s request, they performed radio tests as they rolled. When the radio in Jonah’s SUV began to provide spotty reception, Neil flopped over the back of the seat and practically threw his head into Jonah’s lap.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered. “No reason to be actin’ like this, you brat. It’s not like I asked you to give Carver head.” Neil adjusted something on the radio unit, gave it a hard smack with the heel of his hand, then pulled out a group of wires and licked them.

After that, the unit worked perfectly.

They rolled onto a small patch of land inhabited by sorry-looking date trees, hemmed in by miniature berms. The trees and the berms cast foreboding shadows in the moonlight. It gave the grove a menacing feel, as if threats lurked behind every tree, just waiting to pounce.

In the center of the grove, the members of Assassin-Two-One stood around a gaping hole in the ground. Two Iraqi males knelt nearby, hands bound behind them and hoods on their heads. A Marine stood behind each, M16 trained on his head.

“Gunnery Sergeant Carver,” Assassin-Two-One, Sergeant Jessie Moscato, addressed Jonah. “Sorry to interrupt your sleep, but this is a strange cache, even without the scuttlebutt about the FBI lookin’ for this kind of shit.”

“You did the right thing.” Jonah crawled down into the hole, refusing to give in to the tiredness. “What have you got here, Jessie?”

“A ton of weapons,” he replied. “AKs, M16s, ammo, primers, detonators, grenades—the works.”

Jonah examined the contents of the cache, flipping weapons over and running the beam of his torch along them. This cache wasn’t right.

“Kellan, come look at this,” Jonah called. “Only the AKs seem grimy and used. Everything else appears to be American-made and fresh off the assembly line. I’ve never seen this before.”

Kellan knelt at the edge of the hole and trained his flashlight on the contents.

Neil whistled. “With that kind of firepower, our merry band of brothers could take Fallujah without any tanks or artillery support.”

“Yeah,” Kellan sighed angrily. “And it was found in the hands of the enemy.”

Keef produced a digital camera, made specifically for forensic photography, and took photos from every conceivable angle. They broke down weapons and photographed serial numbers when they found any. Lot numbers were logged and photographed. The sun had climbed to its midmorning position before the FBI was satisfied they had what they needed to prove the origins of the munitions. They kept two of each item found in the cache, carefully wrapped and secured in the back of multiple vehicles.

“Do you need to return to firm base?” Jonah asked Keef. “Or are you ready to continue on to our original destination of the day?”

“Let’s get this over with, Gunnery Sergeant,” Keef replied. “Then we can get home and put a stop to this.”

“Roger that,” Jonah replied.

He adjusted the seating arrangements for their trip into the city.

“Yo, Homes, I can’t believe you’re banishing me,” Neil complained. “What’s a road trip through Iraq without the incomparable team of Carver and his buddy McMurtrie?”

“Quiet?” Jonah retorted, closing the SUV’s door against Neil’s further ranting.

Kellan laughed.

The sun had fully risen by the time they were oscar-mike again. Jonah watched out his window, soothed by the chatter from the back seat. “No, not married yet,” Kellan answered a question from Crowden.

“You got someone, though, don’t you, Captain?” Crowden pressed. “You’re not all alone out there in DC?”

“There is currently no one,” Kellan responded quietly. “But I do hope to change that soon.”

Jonah caught sight of something on the roof of a building ahead of their convoy. His brain registered neither movement nor a reflection; he simply reacted. He keyed his mic and said firmly, “Contact, eleven o’clock.”

The armor on the SUVs would afford them only so much protection. Lucena yanked the wheel to the right in a move of sudden evasion. Jonah knew the drivers in the vehicles behind them were doing the same, leaving open space where they had all been moments before.

Either the enemy had anticipated this or just got lucky. Jonah saw the telltale trail of smoke as the RPG launched. The helplessness pissed him off. He was sealed up tight in the vehicle and unable to aim his weapon out his window, for all the good it would do. The inside of the SUV was silent until just before the grenade clipped the rear fender.

“Everybody hang on,” Lucena said just before the impact.

Jonah’s world blurred. The explosion was deafening. His teeth rattled in his skull, and he gripped his rifle futilely. The RPG glanced low off the fender, sending a violent shudder rocking through the vehicle. The concussion forced it over so the second grenade hit the reinforced undercarriage unimpeded. The building in front of Jonah spun. He pressed a hand hard to the roof as the SUV rolled over and the roof became the floor. Bullet-resistant glass, designed to resist impact but unable to withstand crushing weight, shattered.