CHAPTER 21
CSTC Headquarters, Baghdad
Iheaded off to my office at CSTC headquarters.
Tristan Dent was expecting my candid report.
While I knew part of him wished he was out here with us in the wilds of the foreign battlefields, his responsibility was back in the States, drumming up business and keeping the entire global operation running fluidly.
Ultimately, even though we were close friends, CSTC was Tristan Dent’s show and I worked for him just like everyone else.
I closed my door and picked up the satellite phone. The automated voice on the other end asked for the security code. I punched it in and waited for the connection to “go secure” and encrypt our call.
A few moments later, a real voice on the other end picked up. “Dent.”
“Tristan, it’s Nat. Can you hear me okay?”
“Natty, how the hell are you, my man? Great to hear your voice, amigo. I’ve been on the phone all day with Jed and the State Department.”
“I’m okay, brother. Man, I’m sorry for the heartburn I’m causing you today. Just got back from meeting General Montgomery and Congressman Jennings.”
“You guys did the deed, and I’m behind you a thousand percent.
I think this thing is a wash. Let everyone know they did a great job and we are all proud of them.
We’ll talk when you get back here. Been having some really interesting talks with folks in DC the past few months or so.
I’ll fill you in face-to-face, but bottom line, I think you’ll really like what I’m gonna tell you. ”
* * *
It took a few hours to finish the Team Rhino debrief, but we all agreed the operation had been a good one overall. I passed along Tristan’s thanks and told everyone to pack.
“One more thing,” I said, “my house in Nantucket has plenty of room if anyone is interested in a few days up north. Last I checked, the beer was cold and I’ve got a pretty decent stash of bourbon.”
I always tossed out an open invitation like this after a deployment, which always ended with ninety days of vacation, free to do whatever before the next rotation overseas.
So far, no one had ever taken me up on the offer.
Not that we didn’t enjoy each other’s company, but folks usually opted for some downtime away from one another in between return trips to Baghdad or Kabul.
The abrupt end to our time together must have changed the vibe.
Oliver, Meg, Wolf, and JP lingered after their teams left. It was just the five of us now.
Oliver spoke first. “Nat, you did the right thing. I just wanted to tell you I’m glad I work for you. No shit, dude—I would have lost it in that mess if I’d had to make the call. Hell, we’d probably all be in the big house if you’d been following me.”
“Thanks, jefe, I appreciate it. I was lucky, no question. You guys did a fucking awesome job as usual. I didn’t even know you were taking fire. Damn good shooting, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, Nat,” JP chimed in. “Thanks for grabbing the ring on this one. That was some hairy shit.”
“Well, I don’t have a clue what the hell you apes would have done without me on the ground.”
We all laughed, Meg most of all.
It was impossible not to have a soft spot for Megan Fuller.
Deep down, none of us ever really understood why she chose to work with us.
She was brilliant, no doubt about that, spoke four languages fluently, and was good with a gun.
She’d proved again today that she could handle herself in just about any situation.
No matter which way you looked at it, Meg was a rock star.
“By the way, I’m in for that vacation on your island, Nat. I get my own room, though.” She grabbed her rifle and headed to pack.