Remington waited just a beat, making sure he had Felix’s full attention. “Sergeant Gander isn’t any of your concern.”
Felix frowned like a disappointed child. “In that regard, Captain, I’m afraid we disagree. I feel that the sergeant is very much a threat to what we’re trying to do here.”
“Before we explore that possibility,” Remington said, “maybe you’d like to clarify exactly what it is we’re trying to do.”
“What do you think you’re trying to do?”
“Survive. I’ve got the Syrian army waiting to pounce across the border and encroach on Turkey. If they do, they intend to kill anyone who tries to stop them.” Remington paused for effect. “That would be me.”
“Good, good.” Felix rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Deep resolve. A show of force. It’s reassuring to see that you’re taking this matter so personally. War, with all the technological advances, has become too dispassionate for my taste.”
“What do you know about war?”
“A challenge, Captain?” Felix grinned mockingly. “Do you think I’ve never been in a war? never killed? never had blood on my hands that wasn’t my own?”
The threat hung naked and ugly in the air. For just a moment, a primitive fear touched Remington, and he despised the weakness he felt within himself. He couldn’t see anything in Felix to be wary of, but the fear was there all the same.
“Killing is easy,” Remington said. “Fighting someone to the death, when they have just as good a chance of killing you as you do of killing them—that’s different.”
“Do you give all your enemies chances?” Felix looked delightfully appalled.
“They all have whatever chance they can make for themselves.”
“If that’s your attitude, I’m surprised you’re still alive and walking around.”
“I’m good at what I do.”
“Why give them any chance?”
“I didn’t say I gave them chances.”
Felix shook his head in obvious disapproval. “You take a risk of dying. That’s foolish.”
Quick as a wink, Remington unleathered the Beretta M9 from his hip and took direct aim at Felix’s right eye. The barrel never wavered. The captain’s forefinger was on the trigger, ready to fire, not along the guard.
“I don’t take kindly to being called foolish, especially by a fool,” Remington said softly.
Felix didn’t move. His grin never faltered. “I guess not.”
“I don’t like you.” Remington stared hard at the other man. “I didn’t like you the first time I laid eyes on you. It wouldn’t be much of a decision for me to ventilate your head.”
“Then do it.” Felix’s voice was low and throaty. His eyes gleamed excitedly. “Pull the trigger and let’s see what happens.”
Remington wanted to. The temptation within him was strong. Not just for himself but for Goose too. Felix represented an obvious threat to Goose.
“Why choose to threaten me like this?” Felix asked. “Aside from not liking me?”
Remington didn’t answer.
“Is it because of the sergeant?”
“Leave him out of this.”
Felix shook his head. “Your attachment to Sergeant Gander may well be your downfall, Captain.”
“I can handle Goose.”
“From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like it.” Moving slowly, Felix tapped a key on the notebook computer’s keyboard.
Immediately the LCD screen changed. A segment of OneWorld NewsNet flashed on.
“Sergeant Gander is turning out to be something of a celebrity, isn’t he?” Felix taunted.
Although he didn’t want to, Remington’s attention took in the computer screen. He kept his eyes locked on Felix, but he tracked the news story on the computer.
Footage of the attack on the convoy played. The icon of Goose that had become one of OneWorld NewsNet’s most recognized symbols flashed on the screen: it was the silhouette of an American soldier.
“Isn’t that precious?” Felix asked. “Goose has his own icon on the television network. Millions of people around the world are getting to know him. He’s a hero, isn’t he?”
In that moment, Remington hated Goose. He knew Goose hadn’t sought out the celebrity status. The Vinchenzo woman had assigned it to him. Remington coveted that attention. He had been the one who had managed to save all those men and machines along the Turkish-Syrian border.
“That’s television,” Remington snarled. “He’s just a man.”
“You and I know that, Captain.” Felix ran his fingers through his beard. “But there are other people out there who aren’t so sure. A man like Sergeant Gander, at a time like this, can be dangerous.”
“I can handle Goose,” Remington said again. He put as much emphasis in his words as he could muster.
“By putting him under house arrest?”
Remington didn’t say anything.
“Surprised I knew that?” Felix cocked an eyebrow that was just as fiery red as his beard. “You shouldn’t be. It’s on the news.” He tapped another key.
On the notebook’s screen, Danielle Vinchenzo appeared. Remington watched in silence and left the pistol aimed at Felix Magureanu.
“Things are tense here in Harran, Turkey,” Danielle said, facing the camera. “These American soldiers have dug in to try to hold back the advancing Syrian army and help the Turkish military shore up their defenses.”
The camera swept across the war-torn cityscape littered with damaged historical buildings. It focused on a lone tower in the distance.
“But there’s more tension than just soldiers awaiting an attack or orders,” Danielle went on. “The army Rangers stationed here in Harran are confused. Sergeant Goose Gander, whom many of you have gotten to know through these reports, has been placed under house arrest by Captain Cal Remington, the man who’s—at least for the moment—in control of the 75th Rangers in Turkey.”
Footage of Goose helping carry a hospital litter flashed on the screen. He looked worn and tired. Remington spotted the familiar limp that told him Goose had stressed his bad knee again.
“Wow,” Felix said, then laughed. “Doesn’t sound like you’re going to be on her Christmas card list anytime soon.”
The camera cut back to Danielle. “According to the stories being told by the men I’ve talked to, Captain Remington—”
“And she makes your name sound like something unpleasant.”
“—placed Sergeant Gander under house arrest for disobeying orders. Sergeant Gander was assigned to provide security on a supply caravan from Sanliurfa when he stopped to help a village under attack from a local warlord.”
“All she needs is a few orphans to really sell this story.” Felix grinned hugely.
“Maybe she’s the danger,” Remington suggested.
Felix kept his attention on the screen. “No. You can’t touch her, Captain. That woman’s strictly off-limits.”
“Says who?”
“Nicolae Carpathia.” Felix eyed Remington directly. “He gave me strict orders regarding her part in this little drama.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here.” Felix focused on the pistol for a moment, then back at Remington. “The hostess is on her way back here. Things are going to look strange if you’re holding a gun on me when she comes through the door. There are still a few policemen in this town. At the very least, her screams may draw some of the United Nations soldiers in the next room.”
Remington didn’t say anything.
“Decide what you’re going to do, Captain. You’ve got only a handful of seconds.”
“Leave Goose out of this.”
“Then you’re going to have to find a way to get a handle on him.”
“I will. But if you hurt him in any way, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise.” Remington put his pistol away.
Felix grinned at him with a thoughtful expression. “You are a most curious man.”
Remington glared at the man, gained no ground, and shifted his attention to the computer. In the next moment, the hostess returned to the private dining room with drinks.
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Remington picked up his coffee and sipped. Then he asked the hostess for a menu.
“The menu won’t be necessary,” Felix said. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering for both of us.”
Remington didn’t care for that either. It was too invasive, too controlling.
“Your food will be out momentarily,” the hostess said when she left.
“No.” Felix swirled his wine, peered at the color against the candlelight, then drank with obvious gusto. “I came here to tell you that Nicolae Carpathia is going to persuade the secretarygeneral and the White House to combine forces over here. As well as throughout the rest of the world.”
“Combine forces how?”
“When Nicolae is through, there will be only one military throughout the world. And he will control it. Anyone who doesn’t side with him is going to be viewed as an enemy.”
“He’s wasting his time. The DOD chiefs will never agree to anything like that.”
“Nicolae can be quite … persuasive.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Felix smiled again. “You’ll be seeing it, and
believing
it, soon enough.” He sipped his wine. “In the meantime, you need to find an effective way to deal with your sergeant.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it. Soon. Before this thing gets any further out of hand.
Nicolae would like to see you keep your command intact. He doesn’t want the forces over here to become splintered.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It was happening under Corporal Baker.”
The comment stung Remington’s ego.
How does he know so much?
The captain had no clue.
“You were fortunate when Baker was killed.” Felix’s eyes gleamed. “Very fortunate. Even though Baker wasn’t saying anything to subvert your command, it was happening. Two camps were starting up between the men.”
Remington had known that was trouble when he’d seen it taking place.
“Sometimes, though,” Felix said, “you can arrange for
fortune
to come calling.” He turned his empty hands palms up.
“You’re suggesting I kill Goose.”
“If you’re going to achieve the goals I have in mind for you, that Nicolae has in mind for you, then you’re going to have to push yourself. Merely leaving him behind enemy lines and hoping they kill him isn’t going to do it.”
Downtown Sanliurfa
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0627 Hours
When the hostess returned, she brought with her two servers carrying a veritable feast. Despite his reluctance, Remington dug in. But only a few moments later, his walkie-talkie buzzed.
Felix had turned his attention back to the computer and was typing in commands.
Remington dug his ear-throat headset from a pocket and strapped it on. He jammed the cord into the device and listened to the beep that signaled activation. “Remington,” the captain barked.
“Sir, I thought maybe you’d want to know that Harran is under attack by the Syrian military.”
Anger and dread warred for supremacy inside Remington. He’d known the attack was coming, but he hadn’t wanted to deal with it so early. The troops weren’t ready, and he didn’t have a fallback position set up.
“How do you know that?”
“We’re fielding reports from there. Lieutenant Swindoll says it’s a massive incursion.”
“We missed a troop movement that large? Why didn’t the satellite surveillance warn us about the troop movement?”
“The system has been on the blink all night, sir. We kept you updated.”
The reports were on Remington’s desk. The satellite system had been performing well. Nicolae Carpathia had granted Remington access to the satellites shortly after the disappearances, during the first wave of Syrian attacks.
“Do we have satellite surveillance over that area now?”
“No, sir. We believe our ground relays in the area are being jammed.”
Remington’s mind flew. It was possible that the Syrians had gotten troops into the city to jam the ground stations. It was just as possible the local and temporary systems were being tasked beyond their capabilities.
Felix focused on the computer. His long-fingered hands flew across the keyboard. “Harran?”
For an instant, Remington held back an answer. He didn’t like spreading military intelligence around, nor did he care for anyone else usurping control. But in the end, he needed to see whatever intel was available. “Yes.” The admission was grudging at best.
“I can get you access.” Felix’s confident tone further irritated the captain.
“How?”
Felix smiled. “Danielle Vinchenzo is part of OneWorld NewsNet. We’re everywhere.”
Remington was only slightly surprised that Felix acknowledged the ties to the international news agency. It was no secret that Nicolae Carpathia owned OneWorld Communications. The Romanian president owned or managed several international companies and corporations. But for a man like Felix, who talked of murder as a good thing, to be affiliated with the broadcasting corporation in any way seemed wrong.