Hide and Seek (22 page)

MAC HAD WORKED WITH
Chaplain Paul Bartley on several occasions although he never stepped into the chapel for a typical service. He knew the man’s history. He knew he entered the Army intent on being a Ranger. Unlike his twin brother J. J., he washed out in the second week, but not for lack of trying. Bottom line, he washed out of the sixty-one-day training. There was no shame in it. He might not have been Ranger material but he was a persuasive man. He was able to extend his enlistment and take college courses. Seminary and officer training followed. He spent the last few years as one of the many chaplains serving at Fort Jackson.

Missing the Ranger mark did not mean the man was a poor soldier. He did tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, ministering to troops in the field. He had a reputation for friendliness and straight talk. He also had a heart the size of a tank, something Mac witnessed firsthand when Eric Moyer’s daughter was kidnapped while he was on mission. Moyer was the previous team leader for the unit J. J. now led.

Mac was thankful for one thing: Bartley and J. J. were fraternal twins. He didn’t look like J. J., something that would have made this all the more difficult.

Chaplain Bartley entered the spare office in the admin building, followed by another chaplain. Both wore daily work uniforms, both had Army chaplain emblems over their right shirt pockets. Mac noticed a cross on Bartley’s uniform; a Star of David and a stylized Ten Commandments tablet on Colonel Joel Rubin’s. Rubin was the new Fort Jackson command chaplain.

Both rose when Mac walked into the room. For a long moment no one spoke.

Bartley looked white as concrete and his face as hard. Rubin looked as if he had been awake for a week. Mac exchanged glances with Kinkaid, who didn’t look any better. Seconds passed as Mac tried to find the words to begin. Should he thank them for coming? Stupid idea. They were ordered here and if anyone on base could guess why they were summoned, it was these two. Mac thought of the advice he gave Colonel Weidman, “Just say it, Danny. It won’t taste any better but you’ll be done with it.” Advice was so much easier to give than follow. Mac opened his mouth to speak but Bartley beat him to it.

“When?”

Mac should have guessed, part of their job was delivering the very kind of news he was bringing. “We don’t have a specific time. Sometime this morning our time. Evening theirs.”

“How?”

“Unclear, Chaplain. We assume gunfire. It’s still being investigated.”

Bartley’s face reddened and he shut his eyes for a moment. A tear trickled down his right cheek. “The team? All gone?”

A beat. “Yes.”

Another second passed. Mac didn’t rush things. He had delivered news like this before. He lost men before, but never a whole team.

“May I ask where?” Bartley’s right hand trembled a moment then stopped. Mac didn’t have to strain to guess the kind of battle going on between the man’s ears.

“You know I can’t reveal . . .” Then took a noisy breath. “This doesn’t leave the room, Captain. Clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Kyrgyzstan. Bishkek. The capital.”

“Where the riots are going on.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Captain . . . Chaplain, you should know that I can’t give details but I can tell you they were on a rescue mission. He died trying to save lives.”

Bartley nodded. “He once told me if he died in the field, he wanted to do it doing something noble. I guess he got his wish.” He opened his eyes. They were flooded. “Bodies?”

“We’re working on that. It’s complicated.”

“It always is. Will another team be sent, Colonel?”

“We’re working through channels to get their remains—”

“I was thinking about the rescue mission.”

Mac leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “No. I’ve been overruled.”

“There aren’t many people who can overrule you, Colonel.” Bartley drew a hand across his cheek, removing another tear.

“This guy can.” Mac leaned over the table. “Chaplain, I admired your brother. I passed over several people with seniority to make him team leader. There are many great men in the Army but only a handful like him. I have no children. The Army has been my life, my family. If I had a son, I would want him to be just like J. J.” Mac’s eyes burned.

“Thank you, sir. He . . . he thought the world of you. He prayed for you daily.” This time Bartley let the tears fall. “He once told me you had the most difficult job in the Army. Going into battle, he said, was easier that sending others in.”

“Thank you for sharing that.” Mac looked at Kinkaid. He sat like he had rebar in his spine. He always did. The only evidence of emotion was the trail of tears.
Brave men cry.

“Has Tess been informed?”

“You’re the first. I’ve learned she’s home and not at the War College this week. I’m headed there next.”

Rubin spoke up. “Let me do that for you. You have your own emotion to deal with.”

Bartley shook his head. “Thank you, Rabbi, but no. She’s my sister-in-law. I need to be there for her. Then I’ll tell my parents.”

That almost undid Mac.

Rubin’s voice was kind but firm. “I could order you not to go.” He waited for Bartley to respond. “You’d go anyway, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“BOSS, I THINK SOMETHING
is wrong with the Joker’s truck.” Pete stood at the pharmacy’s front window and looked down the street. They stopped a few meters away from the entrance. “I think it’s leaning to one side.”

J. J. stepped to the widow. He snapped around and pointed to Aliki, Nagano, and Crispin. Then with two fingers, he motioned to the back door. He repeated the motion with Pete and Jose, this time pointing to the front. Aliki’s team was on the move before J. J. finished the second set of gestures. J. J. keyed his mike. “Go.”

He snapped the door open, M4 directed to the left, then the right, then up to the roof. He saw no one; saw no movement. His team put distance between themselves to keep from being one target.

Weapons raised, they trotted to the vehicle. Jose moved to the driver’s side; Pete took the opposite; J. J. worked his way around to the back. He scanned the rooftops again, then set a hand on the rear door handle. Pete and Jose were at his side, barrels pointed at the door. J. J. gave a nod then swung the door open. His men had the barrels of their weapons in the opening before he could pull the door to the stops.

“Clear,” Pete said.

Jose returned to the side of the vehicle. “Two flat tires, Boss.”

“Boss, Joker.” The words poured into J. J.’s head from the ear set.

“Go.”

“Two flat tires. Someone cut the stems.”

“Roger that. Same here. We’ve had company. Take your team north for two blocks then come around to our position. We’ll do the same to the south.”

“Roger. One other thing, Boss, and you ain’t gonna like it. CONNIE is gone. We’ve been robbed.”

“Standby.” J. J. looked in the van Aliki had been driving. To his relief, he saw Crispin’s kit. “Hawkeye, your toys are still here. I want you over here double-time.”

“On my way, Boss.”

It took only a moment for Crispin to make his way from the alley, through the shop, and into the street. He didn’t acknowledge the others. Instead, he leaped into the back and knelt by his bag of tricks. Using his tactical light, he rummaged through the gear. “It’s all here. Why did they take CONNIE but not this? I mean this stuff is uber special.”

“My guess is that it was one guy. Several men might have taken us on. One guy would just try to slow us down. Your kit is a tad awkward to carry.”

“You got that right, Boss.”

“Not only that,” Pete said, “but the store front window gave us a view of the van. Not the side with the flats, but he might not have wanted to risk being seen. We had no direct view of the alley.”

“Great,” J. J. said. “Colonel Mac is gonna make me pay for that thing. I should’ve posted a man at the door.”
I’ve got to learn to think ahead more. How did Moyer do this?
“Junior, I want you and Hawkeye on one of the roofs.” He looked at Crispin. “I assume the roof would be a better advantage for you to work your magic.”

“It would, Boss.”

“Can you do this in the dark?”

“No sweat.”

“Then get your skinny butt up there. I want you to scan the area. Keep an eye out for the bad guys. The women have to be fairly close. Doc, how far can a woman with asthma run?”

“If she’s having an attack—and I’m guessing she wouldn’t have broken into a drugstore unless she had a big need for meds—with this air and the stress she’s under, well, I don’t think she can go very far.”

J. J. pointed a finger at Crispin. “Find her, Hawkeye.”

“Yes, Boss.”

TESS PUT DOWN THE
novel and stretched. She was wasting the day and loving every minute of it. Sometimes a woman just needed some downtime. After her coffee chat with Lucy, she returned to the apartment and planned her day: read, snack, nap, snack, read, watch a stupid movie, and then snack. That evening she would go out for dinner, treat herself to a romantic comedy at the theater while gorging on buttered popcorn, return home, sleep, and start a new diet tomorrow. Yep, the plan was inspired. This was a perfect day.

There was a knock at the door.

She rose and a powerful sense of worry settled in her stomach. Odd.

Slowly, Tess opened the door and saw Colonel Mac and J. J.’s brother. Commanding officer and chaplain.

Everything went dark and the floor rose to meet her.

TESS HAD NO IDEA
how she made it from the apartment’s front door to the sofa, but there she was: on her back, a blurry ceiling above her, someone was holding her hand and rubbing her arm.

“Stay still.” Familiar voice, one that brought more fear. Not danger, just the crushing ache of sadness. Everything inside her hurt, as if someone cored her out, blended her internal organs, and poured the goo back inside.

She blinked and the ceiling came clear. So did the voice. Paul Bartley sat on the coffee table and held her hand. At the foot of the sofa stood Colonel Mac. Another man she didn’t recognize stepped into view holding a glass of water. Why did people offer water at difficult times as if it were a magical elixir?

“Slow, even breaths, Tess.” Bartley spoke softly but the strain in his voice was easy to detect. She faced him. His eyes were red and swollen. An athletic man who enjoyed the outdoors, he wore a year-round tan. He looked ghostly.

Tess pulled her hand free and raised it to her face. She didn’t want to see; didn’t want to feel. No one spoke the news but they didn’t need to. When a man’s commanding officer and one of the base chaplains show up at the door without an invitation, it could only mean one thing.

“When?”

“A short time ago,” Bartley said. “I heard about it less than an hour ago.”

“It would have been early morning our time,” Mac said.

“And you’re just now getting here?”

“That’s my fault, Tess,” Mac said. “I had to make a trip to DC.”

“The president knows?” She pushed herself up. The room spun like a top. It took a moment for things to settle.

“Yes.”

“Here, drink this.” The strange man, dark complexion, dark kind eyes, held out the glass. She took it. As expected, it didn’t help. “Who are you?” She looked at his uniform and recognized the chaplaincy badge.

“This is Colonel Joel Rubin. He’s the command chaplain of Fort Jackson.”

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” His voice was kind but it was clear he had said those words more times than he could count. “I am very sorry for your loss, Dr. Rand.”

“Bartley. I’m a Bartley these days.” She handed the glass of water back. “Kyrgyzstan?”

“You know I can’t discuss such things, Tess.” Normally those words would have been snapped out, but Mac seemed to choke on them. Tess aided Colonel Mac several times, providing information that might be useful to teams in the field. It was an odd relationship. Only her expertise allowed the Army to look the other way while the wife of a team member gave advice to a man who sent her husband into impossible situations.

“I’m not asking, Colonel. I know J. J. and the team were doing training at Manas. I’m guessing the rest. Am I wrong?”