Forced to Kill (34 page)

“I’ve read the details on some of your missions, none of which will ever be revealed to the public either. How many lives have you and Harvey saved? You guys cleared the way for a SEAL team to seize a chemical weapons stash in Bosnia. You took out a rogue Russian general who’d been about to sell shoulder-launched missiles to Hamas. Can you imagine Al-Qaeda terrorists lurking at the ends of our nation’s airports with Stinger-type weapons? Even though
Marine One
constantly uses different routes to ferry the president back and forth to Andrews, eventually they’d get lucky and be in the right place at the right time and shoot it down.”

He
could
imagine those scenarios. All too well. “What now?”

“My suggestion is take a vacation. You and SAC Simpson. Go someplace tropical and lounge around. Drink margaritas and play shuffleboard on a cruise ship. Go scuba diving. You’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Will you promise me something as a personal favor?”

“That depends.”

“Don’t kill Montez.”

She raised a brow. “That’s quite a request.”

“If you include the dead mercenaries from Montez’s Long Beach warehouse, Harv and I have killed sixty-two people. We’ve got enough blood on our hands.”

“Okay. I’ll agree to that. Or more accurately, I’ll
recommend
it. But Montez may wish I hadn’t.”

“You’re a good woman, Rebecca. I wasn’t sure when we first met, but I am now.”

She smiled. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Why do I get the feeling I haven’t seen the last of you?”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Chapter  50

General Hawthorne’s C-20G turned final into Leeward Point Airfield, Naval Station Guantanamo Bay, just after 1400 hours. Nathan found himself gripping the armrests a little too tightly as the wheels touched down.

“Nervous?” Harv asked.

“A little.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Thorny hung up the phone and turned toward them. “We’re all set. Rear Admiral Patricia Maas has agreed to meet us in person, so has Captain Brett King, the station’s commander. Maas is the commanding officer of Joint Task Force Guantanamo, so we’ll be in good hands. The JTF deputy commander, Brigadier General Gabriel Porras, will also be meeting us at the terminal. Porras is Army. JTF Gitmo is under a separate command from the rest of the station.”

The jet’s thrust reversers deployed and the pilot applied power.

“A separate command?” Harv asked over the engine noise.

“Yes, it’s comprised of mostly naval personnel, but it has servicemen and women from all branches. There are other Marines on the station, but their primary assignment is to guard the perimeter fence.”

Thorny must have sensed his apprehension. “Relax, Montez won’t be able to see us. We’ll be behind a two-way mirror.”

Nathan looked out the window at three Jeep Cherokees sitting on the tarmac near a vehicle entry gate. The jet came to a stop and the doors to the Cherokees opened. Four people dressed in combat uniforms climbed out and walked toward the jet. Three were in Naval working uniforms, the other in a desert Army combat uniform, no doubt the JTF’s deputy commander, the Army brigadier.

The copilot opened the fuselage door and warm, humid air flooded the interior. It reminded Nathan of his vacation in Puerto Rico. It had the same feel.

Thorny exited the jet first. All four Gitmo officers issued crisp salutes. Thorny returned the gesture. “Everyone at ease. This is an informal visit. Who’s the senior officer here?”

“You are, General,” Porras said.

Thorny grinned and it lightened the tension. “You’d be surprised how many get that wrong.”

The station commander, Captain Brett King, stepped forward. “Welcome to Gitmo, General.” Introductions were made all around.

Admiral Maas spent a fraction too long looking at Nathan’s scars, but recovered quickly. Porras looked and acted all business and clearly wasn’t happy about hosting a couple of unknown spooks. Understandable, but unwarranted. Porras had no way to know he and Harv weren’t here for a clandestine Big Brother spy mission.

“Once we’ve crossed the bay,” Maas said, “it’s about a ten minute drive over to Camp Delta.”

They piled into the Cherokees. Naturally, he and Harv ended up in Brigadier General Porras’s vehicle. Nathan exchanged a look with Harv, who took the front seat. Thorny rode with Rear Admiral Maas and Captain King, while the third Cherokee hosted the two aides. No doubt they’d exchange a story or two.

A minute later, Porras drove directly onto the waiting ferry. It looked like a scaled down mix between an aircraft carrier and a landing craft and probably accommodated fifteen to twenty vehicles. Not surprising, the three Cherokees were the only vehicles boarding. Eight Marine MPs, armed with M4s, were stationed at various points around the perimeter of the ferry. He wondered if they were normally there. Probably weren’t. No doubt Captain King was playing it safe for the twenty minute journey across open water.

Everyone got out of the vehicles for the ride. The MPs tried not to stare, but most of them would never get another chance to meet the commandant of the Marine Corps again. Thorny made it a point to return their salutes and shake hands with each of them. Nathan smiled at seeing his friend acknowledge the service of enlisted personnel—one of the many traits of a good leader.

Nathan walked over to the rail and looked across the expanse of water. He thought back to Kramer, what it must’ve been like for him at the end, and how close Duane Dalton, his ex-wife and his two girls, had come to suffering the same watery fate. He shook his head.

At the windward landing all three vehicles drove off the ferry. Ten minutes after that, they crested a hill and could see the checkpoint preceding the camps. The view of the Caribbean looked awesome. The bluish-green water along the rocky shoreline nicely contrasted the arid landscape. There was no shortage of cactus around here. Heck of a location for a detainee camp, but it made logistical sense.

Admiral Maas’s Cherokee received a salute from the MPs as it passed through the checkpoint. Their vehicle was also saluted. Camp Delta sat directly ahead, a series of linear buildings surrounded by high fencing and guard towers. Essentially, a prison. At the bottom they passed a parking lot and followed Maas’s vehicle to the left. Nathan looked at the detention camp. All quiet. No one could be seen, guards or prisoners. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he had no idea what to expect. San Quentin? Soledad? This looked nothing at all like those California prisons. It almost had the informal feel of a juvenile detention facility.

So why did his unease continue to grow with each passing minute? Duane Dalton survived. Nichole and her daughters were reunited. Operation Ironclad remained secret. And Montez would spend the rest of his life in prison. So why the trepidation? He relaxed his hands and took a deep breath. He had a role to play as a CIA operations officer. Acting like a nervous schoolboy wouldn’t do. Besides, not that long ago he’d actually been a CIA operations officer. Not that long ago? It felt like a lifetime.

They followed Maas’s Cherokee into a small parking lot on the right side of the road.

Porras cut the engine. “You’ve been briefed about procedures inside?”

“We’re basically invisible,” Harv said.

“That’s correct. We’re going into camp five. It houses the most dangerous detainees and also the detainees deemed to have the most valuable intelligence. It’s a computer-controlled facility. The central mainframe even controls the showers. The man you’re visiting doesn’t fit the normal profile of who we usually see here.”

Neither of them said anything.

“If at any time you have any questions, give me a very slight head nod. I’ll pull you aside and address your concern. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Harv said.

“Okay, here we go.”

Admiral Maas led them across the street to where several MPs stood guard at tall fencing topped with razor wire. The MPs came to sharp attention at seeing JTF’s commanding officer approach. Nathan watched their eyes grow when they saw a four-star accompanying her, along with JTF’s deputy commander and the station commander.

The building beyond was screened from view by green canvas attached to the fencing. They walked down a concrete corridor and found several more MPs guarding the actual entrance to the building. No IDs were needed. And just like that, they were inside.

***

Nathan was amazed, the place was spotless. In the central core, a glass-enclosed control center had a clear line of sight into all the cell blocks. They walked through a common area containing stainless-steel tables and seats that were bolted down to the polished concrete floor.

Admiral Maas addressed them quietly. “We house one hundred detainees here. We work on a positive reward system. Detainees who cooperate and don’t cause problems are moved into less restrictive accommodations and are given more privileges. Each cell is monitored twenty-four-seven with cameras. Guard response time to any given cell is measured in seconds. Follow me, please.” They followed her down a short corridor to a door. “This is one of our interrogation rooms. It has a two-way mirror.”

The room looked plain, nothing fancy. A table and some chairs.

“Armed guards are always present during detainee interrogations,” Maas said. “And of course, an interpreter. Very few speak English.”

Nathan saw a camera mounted on the wall above the two-way mirror.

“Does anyone have any questions at this point?”

Thorny said, “Not a question, a comment. You run a tight ship, Rear Admiral Maas. I’m damned impressed.”

“Thank you, General. I never directly interact with the detainees. We try to create a stress free environment. Having a woman present isn’t conducive to that, especially a woman in a command position. Brigadier General Porras is largely responsible for the successes we’ve had here. He’s well versed in the Muslim culture and traditions. All of our people who interact with the detainees are.”

“I wish we lived in a world where none of this was necessary,” Thorny said.

“Maybe someday, General. This way, please.”

She took them around a corner to another door. Inside, two levels of seating offered eight to ten people ample room to observe the questioning. A small speaker mounted above the mirror allowed the occupants to hear the sessions. Admiral Maas spoke quietly to an MP before closing the door. Not surprisingly, the room became dark. Nathan had a ton of questions, but kept quiet.

“This is a soundproof room, but I recommend we keep our voices low.”

In a way, this felt harder than directly interacting with his former tormentor. Somehow, it seemed… what? Cowardly? No,
cowardly
wasn’t the right word. Underhanded? That didn’t fit either. He had no reason to be afraid of Montez. Perhaps this was one of those human experiences that words just couldn’t describe. He calmed his thoughts and relaxed his hands. Harv gave him a questioning look and he made sure to nod when Porras wasn’t looking.

The next ninety seconds stretched into a timeless ether of conflicting feelings.

The door to the interrogation room opened and a rather short and ordinary looking man—dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit—was escorted in and ordered to sit down. His manacled hands were placed on the table and secured to a steel ring. Shaven to the skin, he showed no signs of the long black ponytail he’d once prized. Five-day-old stubble was all that remained. His eyes appeared sunken and hollow. Lifeless. He looked broken, like a death row inmate.

Suddenly his eyes flicked upward. Montez seemed to look right through the mirror. Of course, in reality, he could only see himself.

Like the image, Monty? Do you see yourself clearly now?

“Is this your man?” Thorny asked, completing the act.

“Yes, General,” Harv said. “He looks different without his hair and the stapled cuts on his face and scalp, but it’s definitely Colonel Montez de Oca.”

Nathan stared. Couldn’t avert his eyes. Conflicting emotions assaulted him. Surprise. Satisfaction. Anger. Disgust. And unexpectedly, sadness. He actually felt pity. The once-proud man, brilliant in his own way, had been reduced to a common prisoner with a bleak and hopeless future. What goes around comes around? He’d never really believed it until now. Did evil beget evil? How many people never realized it until too late, until facing the ugly moment of truth when they saw themselves for who and what they really were, monsters disguised as human beings.

Nathan winced at the flashback of the savage whipping he’d endured, at the casual way Montez had yawned during the worst of it. He hated what he’d discovered about himself. There was no rationalizing or justifying it. And no amount of psychobabble could explain it. The
other
. Was that vicious part of his soul born that day, or had it always lived inside him?

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Now it was Montez’s turn.

Nathan wondered if this manacled man sitting before him was evil in the truest sense of the word. Maybe, maybe not. That judgment was reserved for God, not Nathan McBride. But one thing
was
certain. Montez would have the next forty years to contemplate it.

Holly’s words echoed again.
You don’t have to fear him anymore.

Seven simple words with such deep meaning.

Chapter  51

The following day, Holly picked Nathan and Harvey up at Lindbergh Field. Thorny had graciously offered his jet for their flight home and refused to accept no for an answer. A C-130 was leaving Gitmo for Andrews that same afternoon and his former commander insisted on taking that jump-seat ride they’d talked about. Besides, you didn’t argue with a four-star, especially Thorny.