Monster (24 page)

“I’m a pig,” Rutledge admitted. “I always seem to avoid cleaning areas of my place I can close the door on.”

“Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step.”

“What’re Diane and Kay doing anyway?”

“I think they’re checking overseas reports. It looks like Kay’s pointing out something on a map.” Barrington peered at Rasheed’s workstation monitor.

“It’s a map of Fallujah,” Rutledge said, tapping into Rasheed’s workstation, causing what was on his workstation monitor to appear on her screen. “I told you she’s got it bad.”

“I guess you’re right. I know we don’t have any threads from the Mercado house going into Iraq.”

“Only Cold.” Rutledge chuckled. She typed rapidly, pasting a note onto the live map screen which appeared on Rasheed’s monitor too. The note asked if Reskova had a lead from the Mercado house going into Fallujah.

Barrington and Rutledge watched Reskova tense and Rasheed try not to laugh. Reskova whipped around toward Rutledge, who gave her a little wave while Barrington scooted away from Rutledge with his hands in an ‘I had nothing to do with it posture’. Reskova pointed a finger at Rutledge threateningly.

“I haven’t forgotten you made me blow coffee through my nose, Rutledge,” Reskova warned. “I have a big asterisk next to your name on my shit list.”

“I was just making sure Tom and I were in the loop on any developments you two come up with on the case we’re supposed to be working on,” Rutledge said innocently. “How’s the Fallujah battle going?”

“We should have nuked that rat-hole.” Only after her words escaped did Reskova remember Rasheed was sitting there. “Sorry, Kay. I…”

“It is fine, Boss.” Rasheed waved her off. “My homeland is a very frustrating place. My people could have already been well on the way to recovery if not for these rogue cleric devils and foreign fighters.”

“You hear about the Marine getting railroaded for killing one of those possum playing terrorist assholes?” Barrington asked, anger evident in his tone. “They should have shot that photographer from NBC, the traitorous prick.”

“The kid had just been shot in the face the day before,” Rutledge added.

“And another Marine from his unit had been blown up by a… ah… possum player,” Rasheed added. “You Americans allow yourselves to be forced to play the enemy’s game.”

“We Americans, Kay.” Reskova put a hand on Rasheed’s shoulder. “We both know Cold won’t play the game.”

“That is true, Boss. On the other hand, with this bad press the young soldier is getting for simply killing the enemy he was sent to kill, the Cold Mountain had better keep a very low profile.”

“The fighting is brutal. Kay was just showing me how well the Colonel knows the roughest part of the city where they’re doing the mop up operations. We were wondering if they’d be sending Cold to one of the other cities where violence is breaking out.”

“He knows Mosul and Ramadi also,” Rasheed explained. “Our small militia he trained worked in both of those cities too.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a one shot deal.” Rutledge stood up and stretched. “The Colonel helps in the Fallujah battle and then rejoins the team. Hell, the outrage his part in the Mercado operation was supposed to cause never materialized. I listened to some of the local lefty radio shows trying to pump up support for a full investigation. Even their listeners were pro-Cold Mountain. The school angle really has people thinking we need to get a hell of a lot more vicious.”

“He’ll stay,” Reskova replied.

“The Boss is right. My friend does not see his duty in the same manner as other men.”

“Even a professional like the Colonel has to get sick of the constant battle stress,” Barrington said.

“The Cold Mountain told us in Iraq a story about one of your old time football players named… ah… But… Butkis. This player was a linebacker or something for the Chicago Bears and he was interviewed by a magazine. This Butkis told his interviewer he had a dream he hit another player so hard the other player’s head popped off and rolled down the field. When the interviewer asked the fellow if he was ever afraid on the football field, this Butkis asked in reply: ‘afraid of what?’ My comrades and I enjoyed the story very much. The Cold Mountain thinks of combat in the same way.”

“Meaning he’s never afraid?” Rutledge asked.

“I do not know. If he was, I could not tell. The rest of us were afraid all the time. He told us it was normal to be afraid. When I asked him if he was ever afraid, he smiled and said ‘of course.’ I did not believe him, nor did my comrades.”

“He needs to come home and let Diane show him the other side of…” Rutledge began but then streaked for the door with Reskova in hot pursuit.

Reskova halted suddenly at the doorway, realizing how childish her reaction was. She turned around and returned to Rasheed’s workstation. She gathered up the folders she had there. “Do you two have anything to add?”

“Not me, Boss,” Rasheed assured her quickly, glancing over at Barrington, who was studiously studying his monitor with a hand clamped over his mouth. “Agent Rutledge is acting inappropriately and should be punished. May I have her desk?”

Reskova laughed, the anger receding for a moment at Rasheed’s comment. Rutledge peeked back in the door.

“Hey, what’s so funny?”

“You’re lucky you’re as good as you are at this job.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Rutledge replied smugly, walking back to her station and sitting down.

“If Cold ever does get back, I’m going to pay him to take you on a field trip.”

“Not funny!” Rutledge elbowed Barrington, who had laughed at the look of fear which appeared on his partner’s face. “Don’t even joke about that when the Colonel returns. He might think you’re serious.”

“I’m deadly serious. If he and I are as close as you keep implying we are, I bet you might wake up somewhere special after he gets back.”

“I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Armed and dangerous stuff worked out real well for the Mercados when they went to sleep,” Barrington reminded her.

“You stay out of this. C’mon, Diane, you can admit it. Don’t be so damned uptight. If we’d have wanted to nail you two we could have bugged the house, right guys?”

“Not and lived,” Reskova replied stiffly.

“Ah, so you admit it.” Rutledge pointed happily at Reskova, who blushed as she realized she had been tripped up.

“I…I meant…” Reskova groped for words as the three other agents looked at her with amused speculation.

“Too late, Diane. Okay, out with it. I want details. Oh wait, never mind, we’ll talk when it’s just us girls around.”

“Get to work, Rutledge, and start practicing your woodcraft,” Reskova ordered over her shoulder as she headed toward her office.

“She’s just kidding,” Rutledge stated confidently.

“Girl, you need to follow your own advice about learning to keep your mouth shut,” Barrington said. “I know a website where you can download directions on how to read a compass.”

“May I have your desk,” Rasheed asked again.

* * *

Nearly a month later, Thanksgiving came, with Rasheed inviting his coworkers over for his family’s first ever holiday dinner. Little Cold, the newest addition to Rasheed’s family, crawled and slobbered over everyone, in the midst of teething. Suraya, Rasheed’s fourteen-year old daughter followed the baby’s quick movements on the floor with the utmost concern, while the others sat in the large living room sipping sparkling cider.

“My husband has told me the Cold Mountain is now in Mosul,” Ansa, Rasheed’s wife commented. “We worry about him.”

“He will return,” Suraya said, looking up from where she had turned the baby in a direction away from the coffee table he had been heading under. “He must see the little Cold. Agent Reskova, you should have brought Dino with you.”

“Call me Diane, Suraya. I would have brought him but Dino isn’t quite as tame as you might think. He could react badly to the baby. I didn’t want him getting into trouble. Besides, I took him for a long run this morning. The big baby curled up on his mat like I had taken him out in a blizzard.”

“Perhaps my Father can bring me over to your house to see him,” Suraya suggested. “I would very much like to see the Cold Mountain’s dog.”

“I think he’s more Diane’s dog now,” Rutledge said. “You and your Mom have sure adopted the Colonel’s new nickname easily.”

“Yes, it is a delight,” Ansa replied with a smile. “We always called him Colonel, even though he tried many times to have us call him by his first name: Jeremiah. This nickname, as you call it, fits him so well. We will never call him anything else. I wish he could have been here with us.”

“We’ve tried writing him,” Barrington put in, “but whether he gets them or not, we don’t know. If he wanted to stay in touch he could be E-mailing us all the time. I’ll bet he has a satellite phone too.”

“It is not to worry about,” Rasheed replied. “Many times, when our group was out of touch for long periods, Cold would lose all track of time. He has what you call tunnel vision.”

“Kay told us how Cold met up with all of you,” Rutledge said to Ansa.

A shadow passed across Ansa’s face as she nodded her acknowledgement. “Yes, it was a very dark time. I am happy we are in America.”

“Did my Father tell you how the Cold Mountain rescued my friends and I?” Suraya asked. “He…”

“Yes, I told them all about it, little one,” Rasheed interrupted.

Suraya smiled at her Father. She wiped the baby’s mouth and nose expertly, before letting him continue crawling amongst his toys. “My Father does not like me to talk about the time I was held, but I do not mind. It was very exciting when the Cold Mountain came. We were all held in two tiny cells. It was very bad. We heard screaming and many weapons being fired. My friends and I huddled together on the dirt floor of the cell. Soon, all was silent. A huge shadow suddenly appeared by our cells, smiling at us, and telling us all would be well. It was the Cold Mountain. He snapped the cell doors open with his bare hands and hurried us out through the smoky building to where my Father waited. There were many bodies. I will always remember.”

 “Your English is very good, Suraya,” Reskova complimented the girl after a short awkward silence. “How has school been going for you?”

“I am doing very well. I also love working at our store. My school is within walking distance. It is so much more exciting here in America. Now, with little Cold, we are very blessed. I wish to grow up and be an agent like you and Agent Rutledge.”

The gasp of surprise from Ansa, followed by Rasheed’s laughter, lightened the moment considerably after Suraya’s story.

“My daughter has embraced the new freedoms here perhaps more quickly than Ansa would like. After all the excitement with the American elections this month, Suraya knows because little Cold was born in this country it is possible for him to grow up and become President.”

“Yes,” Suraya agreed excitedly. “I will be his campaign manager.”

Everyone laughed, including the reluctant Ansa.

With little Cold still in his highchair, and Suraya trying to feed him while he played with his Thanksgiving Day dessert, everyone else sat around the Rasheed table sipping hot tea. Their conversation drifted from the baby’s official adoption papers which were getting pushed by even the Homeland Security director, to accelerated citizenship for the Rasheed family. The phone rang suddenly. Rasheed answered it in the entranceway. He literally ran back into the dining room, his face a contortion of emotions, joy being the most prevalent.

“It is AD Dreyer. The Cold Mountain is flying in today from Iraq with many of the returning troops from overseas. Dreyer wants to speak to you, Boss.”

Reskova left the table. She picked up the phone, her hand shaking slightly.

“Reskova here.”

“The Colonel will be landing by SAM FOX flight with other wounded and returning troops in about an hour and a half,” Dreyer said simply. “The flight was supposed to be in earlier but was held up by weather. I called your cell phone and got your message you would be at this number. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Semper Fi, Sir. Is he wounded?”

Dreyer chuckled in appreciation before answering. “It may be a possibility, but he’s not listed amongst the stretcher cases. You and your team have done a hell of a job with the Mercado cell, Reskova. I left word at the base providing clearance for you to pick up the Colonel.”

“Thank you, Sir, we’ll be there,” Reskova replied before Dreyer said goodbye and ended the call.

Reskova walked into a room full of quiet, expectant faces. Even little Cold smiled attentively at her. “He’ll be arriving at Andrews on a SAM FOX flight in about an hour and a half. Dreyer doesn’t know if he’s wounded or not but he’s not listed as ambulatory.”

“What is this SAM FOX thing?” Rasheed asked quickly, standing up from the table with Barrington and Rutledge.

“Oh, sorry, Kay. It’s a VIP flight designation standing for Special Air Mission Foreign. I imagine the wounded being transported from Germany will be going into Walter Reed Army Hospital and the Naval facility at Bethesda.”

Rasheed gestured for Ansa and his daughter to stay where they were. “I will bring the Cold Mountain back with me. You two remain here with the little Cold.”