Shadow of Death (26 page)

Epilogue

Apo was debriefed at length by Director Holstrum in private. The conversation was an ugly shouting match at times, but in the end, Apo signed the typical documents swearing him to secrecy lest he be charged with espionage or treason against his own country. He was beyond outraged, and considered telling the Company to shove it up its ass and just quit, but then what? Who was going to do what he could do? His country needed him, now more than ever.

“This isn’t over,” he sneered at the director.

“It’s over.”

“Yeah? We’ll see how
over
it is when you need me to go to fucking Iran and blow up a nuke facility or kill a couple of physicists. Commander in chief is fucking
wrong
, and you know it.”

“I only know that shit rolls downhill. The current CIC gives me an order and I follow it. And so do you. We don’t always get to see the big picture.”

“The big picture is going to be the front page of a newspaper one day with a photo of an Iranian ICBM leaving its launch site.”

The director shrugged. “Look at this way, we’ll always have job security.”

“Not funny. I’m not here for
my
job security, I’m here for fucking
national
security! And you better remember that, too! Does the team know what you did?”

“As you know, the MOP answers only to me. The team goes through Davis and Murphy. Misters Davis and Murphy are aware that the situation was handled at the highest levels, and the case is closed. The mission is over, deemed successful, and everyone gets a few weeks off. Go get drunk or laid or something. Go watch the news. Lots of good news coming out of Mexico. Apparently, the Mexican government finally had some success against the cartels. Drug lords Salazar and El Gato were both killed, and their gangs heavily damaged.”

“El Gato?” asked Apo, surprised.

“Things change. President Pena Nieto decided he didn’t trust anyone to handle a trial. El Gato was too scary and powerful. Too many judges and cops on the take, including the general’s own son-in-law. El Gato was killed while trying to escape.” He shrugged. “Fuck ‘em.”

Apo nodded. “Yeah. Fuck ’em. And fuck you, too.”

He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Director Holstrum stared down at the intelligence briefing on his desk and wondered if he should have told Apo. Iran’s director of intelligence, Ali Ahmadi, had died suddenly of unknown causes. Either a myocardial infarction or a hollow-point round behind his right ear.

The director picked up his phone and called Moose. “Just calling to congratulate you on a job well done. You and your men bought yourselves two weeks of R&R. Call me in two weeks. Until then, you’re off duty.”

Moose was surprised. “That’s it? Don’t you need us to come in for a briefing or something? After-action report? Something?”

“Nope. I’ve got everything I need. Fine work by you and your men. Mission was a success. Everyone’s happy. Drug dealers are dead and a little heroin is off the streets for a while.”

“I haven’t been able to contact Duane, Carl, or Apo since we got back.”

“And you won’t, until we need them again. They’re just fine. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Nothing for me to worry about . . .”

“Nope. Like I said, when I need them, I’ll call them. Until then, you and your men can go have some fun. Duane, Carl, and Apo will go off and do whatever it is that they do. Their contact information is changed. Apo is off your team for now. Sorry. That’s just how it is. You have a good day, Senior Chief. Enjoy R&R, you’ve earned it.”

The phone went dead.

Ripper and the others were sitting around in their blue and grey utility uniforms back at the mess hall in the Langley base, where they had been awaiting a call to go up and debrief with Dex or Darren. They had eaten breakfast together and recapped the events of the trip. They’d all returned safely, and were thankful for that.

Moose turned to his men and shrugged. “That’s it. Two weeks off. R&R, gentlemen. No briefing, no paperwork, no nothing.”

“I guess that’s because we were never there,” said Jon.

Ripper nodded. “Kid’s catching on. Must be how the spooks do it. After-action report my ass. Let’s go. Pizza and beers on me tonight at that pub downtown.”

Jon started laughing. “I ever tell you my Jersey joke?”

“What’s that mean?” asked Moose.

“This Staten Island guy gets set up on a dating website. The New Jersey chick gets all dolled up for a night on the town—you know, dress and heels and hair and shit, all good to go. The dude knocks on the door and he’s standing there in ripped-up jeans and a wife-beater T-shirt, and she’s kinda shocked, ya know? And then he just says, ‘Heyyyyy, how
you
doin’? Wanna go out for pizza and a fuck?’ And this chick is horrified, and she screams, ‘
What
did you just say to me?’ And the guy looks at her and says, ‘
What
? You don’t like
pizza
?’”

The team broke up laughing.

Moose looked at Ripper. “Did I hear that right? You’re buying? On your feet, gentlemen! We are
out
of here! By the time we get changed into civvies and get to DC, it’ll be time to get hammered and eat pizza. And I
love
pizza! Alpha Mike Foxtrot!”

About the Author

David M. Salkin is the author of eight thrillers in various genres, including military espionage, crime, horror, science fiction, action-adventure and mystery. With a writing style reminiscent of the late, great Michael Crichton, Salkin’s work keeps his readers turning pages into the late hours. His books have received Gold and Bronze medals in the Stars & Flags book awards, and David has appeared as a guest speaker all over the country.

David is an elected official in Freehold Township, NJ where he has served for twenty years in various roles including Mayor, Deputy Mayor, Township Committeeman and Police Commissioner. He co-owns Salkin’s Jewel Case with his brother and is a Master Graduate Gemologist.

When not working or writing, David prefers to be Scuba diving with his family. He is a Master Diver and “fish geek,” as well as a pretty good chef and wine aficionado. Some of his famous recipes were perfected in the parking lot of Giants Stadium