The Severance (16 page)

McBride was not in the tent when they got back. He still had about an hour to return, before the 1:00 a.m. deadline, but not having his platoon sergeant there to discuss the latest developments was disconcerting. Jake sat on his bunk and waited.

Many soldiers were already asleep. A few were huddled around a laptop watching a bootleg copy of
The
Dark Knight
. Bena and Big Joe sat down with two other soldiers and began to play spades. The soldiers had been briefed that everything was under control, and that they could stop worrying about their money. For the most part, they’d all calmed down, resulting in a pleasant, fairly quiet scene.

“Whew, cold as hell out there, boys!” Olsen shouted as he stumbled into the tent. Some of the sleeping soldiers woke up and scowled at the sergeant, before trying to get back to sleep. Seconds later, Lopez and Nelson quietly entered the tent and went over to their bunks. Lopez gave Jake a thumbs-up. Jake could only guess, but he figured that the gesture was to indicate that they’d kept their eyes on Olsen and had no problems. Olsen stomped up and down the wooden floor of the tent, chatting up some soldiers who were still awake. Then, he walked up to a sleeping soldier and kicked his cot, to wake him up.

Lopez came over and sat down in front of Jake.

“How’s the head, Sir?” Lopez asked.

“It’s fine. Just a little larger than it was yesterday,” Jake replied.

“Saw a friend of yours outside the talent show,” Lopez said in a hushed tone. Olsen was still bumbling around the tent making as much noise as if he had a bullhorn.

“Go on,” Jake said, arching an eyebrow.

“So we’re at the talent show. I go outside to smoke a cigarette.”

“Okay.”

“So I’m smoking my cigarette, minding my own business when a Hilux comes screeching to a halt like ten feet from me. I’m a little spooked, ya know.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, I’m about to lay into the driver for almost running me over when a hot female officer with dark hair jumps out of the passenger seat and starts playing Twenty Questions,” Lopez said, looking over Jake’s shoulder to ensure that Sergeant Olsen wasn’t paying attention.

“Any of those 20 questions stick out in your mind?” Jake asked.

“Oh, yeah, Sir. She was asking if I was in Captain Roberts’s platoon and if I knew where she could find him,” Lopez said.

“What did you tell her?”

“I tell her I don’t know no Jake Roberts and I ain’t in his platoon. I tell her she got me confused with someone else. She says she don’t believe that. She told me to tell you that she was going to come see you real soon.” Lopez dropped his voice.

“This friend of mine, is she the one from Salerno? The one good with office supplies?” Jake asked cryptically.

“I’d say so, Sir.
Chica
was
muy caliente
.”

“Anything else you notice? The driver maybe?”

“Chick got into the truck and they sped off, but I got a good look at the driver. Seems your friend has a new friend, Sir. Guy driving the truck was wearing a flight jacket with all the stupid patches those flyboys like to wear. You know the type?”

“I’m becoming more and more familiar. What time was all this?” Jake asked.

“About 9:30, maybe 9:40,” Lopez replied.

“Wished you’d told me sooner,” Jake said.

“Believe me, I would have loved to have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to miss the end of the show,” Lopez said, casually nodding in the direction of Olsen, who was now berating Big Joe for being so stupid.

“Anyway, I’ll let you marinate on that for a bit,” Lopez said, patting Jake on the shoulder as he rose to his feet and walked back to his cot. Jake only grunted in the affirmative.

If what Sergeant Lopez said was true, it pretty much confirmed what he’d suspected. Jessica was on Bagram and was working with an aviator. She’d been seen with a Toyota Hilux pickup truck 30 minutes before a Hilux was used to almost kill Jake.

Jake ran down the facts in his mind. Sergeant Lopez had seen Jessica at 9:30. Jake had left the AT&T phone center at around 10, leaving Jessica more than enough time to track him down. She had correctly guessed that there were only two or three places that soldiers going home were likely to frequent: the phone center was one of them.

More than likely Lopez had not been brought up to speed that anything was wrong with The Severance. Without all the facts, he wouldn’t have been able to generate a useful lie. Jake decided that what Lopez had told him was true. Jake decided—

“Boss Man! What’s up?” Olsen yelled across the tent. Anyone who had been trying to sleep was fully awake now; some of the soldiers sat up, rubbing their eyes.

“Just the volume in here, Gramps,” Jake said, looking down at his feet.

Olsen walked over and sat next to Jake.

“Come on Cap, lighten up a little bit. We’re going home war heroes,” Olsen said, slapping Jake on the leg.

“I’m cool, Sergeant.” Jake replied. Ever since he’d been commissioned, Jake believed that it was his duty to suffer hardship so that his soldiers wouldn’t. Conversing with Olsen was a prime example of this.

“Cap, you seem down in the dumps. You should’ve come to the talent show with me,” Olsen said, putting his arm around his platoon leader’s shoulder. He reeked of day-old sweat, cigarettes, and cheap coffee. Jake resolved to remain pleasant, despite the awkward embrace.

“Well Gramps, I had to call the wife, you know. She gets pissed when I don’t talk to her,” Jake said.

“Come on, Big Boss! You gotta put the old lady in her place,” Olsen said, squeezing Jake’s shoulder and coughing in his ear.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Jake said, knowing that Olsen had been divorced three times, estranged from his children, and was behind on his child support and alimony.

“Damn right, I’m right! You should have seen some of the girls trying to sing up there tonight. Not a damn one could carry a tune, but some of them were solid tens in little short shorts and halter tops. Hot stuff,” Olsen said.

“I’m trying to lay off the girls,” Jake said, rubbing the knot on the back of his head.

“Oh, that little love tap! Forget that stuff, Sir! One of those chicks was right up your alley. Air Force butter-bar, black hair and blue eyes, works in the public affairs office for ISAF. Real cutie,” Olsen said.

“Um,” Jake muttered. Olsen was going to give him a rash, as if the stress of being the ringleader of a criminal smuggling conspiracy and dealing with someone trying to murder him wasn’t enough.

“If I see her again and you’re around, I’ll point her out,” Olsen said.

“Sir,” McBride said, poking his head through the back flap.

Thank God, Jake thought, as he rose to his feet.

“Battalion Liaison says someone at Salerno needs to talk to us on the phone,” McBride said.

Finding his cap, Jake walked toward the tent flap.

“Hey, Sir, I’ll tell you more about that chick when you get back,” Olsen said, as Jake exited.

“Sounds good,” Jake replied, without breaking stride. Olsen would have found someone else to torture by the time he got back.

McBride and Jake walked in the general direction of the Battalion Liaison Office.

“Anyone actually want to talk to me on the phone?” Jake asked, after they ensured no one was listening.

“Nope,” McBride said, “I did go by the office and put in a call to Salerno.”

“And?”

“All is well, a couple of questions about a few of the boys’ Article Fifteen paperwork, but what else is new?” McBride asked, with a shrug.

The two men stopped between two shower trailers away from the bright lights of Disney Road.

“So what do we know about the container yard?” Jake asked.

“You were right. Security is real tight. Four-man detail. They got two on the gate, one on roving patrol in the yard, and one on rest. I can only guess, but they probably work eight-hour shifts down there,” McBride added.

Jake pictured the setup in his mind, trying to figure out a weakness.

“Can we scam the security? Bribe them maybe?” Jake asked.

“Detail’s all Air Force. They don’t look like military police, but they are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I don’t think we can scam them. As far as bribing them goes, anything we’ve got to bribe them with is already in the container yard,” McBride said.

“You’re just full of good news,” Jake muttered.

“It’s not all bad,” McBride said.

“Yeah, I guess there could be attack dogs,” Jake said.

“What I’m getting at is that I got a pretty good look at their operation. A roving guard takes 23 minutes to do one loop around the yard. The rows of containers run from north to south, so the guard can’t see the whole yard at once. So, we get into the yard just as the guard passes our point of entry and we’ve got 23 minutes to do what we gotta do and get out,” McBride said.

“How are we getting in the yard?” Jake asked.

“We go in through the front gate,” McBride said.

“Should I call the MPs and have them pencil in our arrest?”

“Depends on if we can get a holding cell with a view. No, I found us a way in along the west side of the yard. Containers line the perimeter, but I found a break in the containers just big enough to squeeze through. I made a small cut in the chain-link perimeter fence,” McBride said, pride settling on his countenance.

Jake thought about this plan. If he and McBride could breach the yard and be quick about it, they might have a chance at not getting caught. Still, they had to find the container that held The Severance and then another container to put it in.

“No lollygagging in there with only 23 minutes,” Jake said.

“Way ahead of you, Sir. When I went to the liaison office to make that phone call, I also snuck a peek at the Brigade’s redeployment container map. It’s got the layout of every container yard on this base, including the strategic air yard. The Severance container is only about 50 or 60 feet away from where we enter the yard and container 8841 is only seven containers down on the same row. Our case will fit right in.”

“Who owns 8841?” Jake asked.

“Intel Section for First Battalion,” McBride responded, crossing his arms.

“This is going to work.” Jake smiled at the thought.

“Did you get the seals?” McBride asked.

“Of course,” Jake replied, hoping McBride wouldn’t ask about the details.

“And the nurse, Sir? You figured that little angle out yet?” McBride asked.

Jake relayed the information he’d gotten from Sergeant Lopez. He didn’t want to think about Jessica, but he knew she was out there, waiting and watching. They could plan and plot to change containers, but until they dealt with Jessica, there was no way of being sure that The Severance was safe. Even if they could get it out of Afghanistan, she still might call the authorities to make sure that if she couldn’t have the money, no one would.

“If I could just talk to Jessica, I think we could work something out. We could cut her in. I just need to get some face time with her to calm her down,” Jake said.

“Sir, I hope ‘face time’ doesn’t mean another truck up your ass,” McBride commented.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. He knew he was being reactionary and vague. His
A
game was slacking, not a good thing.

“Sir, I know you don’t want to think about it, but—”

A thunderous boom and a blinding flash of light cut short McBride’s words. Jake fell to his knees. He could feel the pain in his throat as he screamed, but couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. The familiar stench of cordite filled his nose and burned on his tongue. It was impossible to tell which way was up. The world around him slowly came back into focus and he clumsily rose to his feet. The first clear vision he had was of McBride’s fist as it collided with his face. The punch put Jake flat on his back. The NCO, blinded and deafened as well, seemed to be throwing aimless punches in all directions. As his vision returned, McBride roared, “What the fuck happened?”

Jake was curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You punched me in the fucking face, dick!” Jake shouted, his voice muffled by his hands clutching his face. “You broke my face!”

“Sorry, Sir,” McBride said, as he helped Jake to his feet and took a second to check out his injuries. Jake could feel his eye swelling shut. It took almost a full minute before the two men regained their vision and hearing.

“What was it?” Jake asked. McBride looked at the ground around their feet and almost immediately found what he was looking for. Using his cap to pick it up, McBride held out the item to Jake.

“Flashbang grenade,” Jake said, rubbing his head. The powerful noisemaker was designed to disorient its victims but cause no permanent injuries. It had worked well.

“Pretty good throw, too, landed right between us,” McBride said, dropping the flashbang hull on the ground. Even in a crowded part of the base, the detonation of a flashbang didn’t generate a lot of attention, unless someone was standing in the immediate area. To anyone more than 50 feet away, the sound would have been little more than a faint pop.

Had Jessica thrown the flashbang? Jake had doubts. Though doctors and nurses weren’t issued flashbangs or other exotic weapons, Jessica could have acquired the ordinance in a variety of different and untraceable ways, but Jake had never known Jessica to be that clever. And she wasn’t likely to be trained in any type of grenade. This just wouldn’t have been something she would have thought of. Jake immediately thought that perhaps her new pilot boyfriend had been the brains behind this attack. Soldiers were always losing things when they rode in helicopters. Flashbangs, grenades, even handguns were routinely left behind on an air assault mission. Grenades were rarely accounted for and were often traded among soldiers for comfort items.

This led Jake to the frightening conclusion that this unknown pilot was calling the shots. Combatting an unknown enemy was a much more daunting task than placing a face on his foe. Jake’s face, and their plan, seemed in shambles.

Why a flashbang, though? “She could have scrounged up a frag grenade easy and that would have killed us both,” Jake wondered aloud.

“This was a message,” McBride said.