“Some from this one . . . some from the others . . .

but we’ve had a little problem, which is really why I

brought you out here . . .”

“You weren’t trying to soften me up? Turn me into a

humanitarian or something?”

“No. I need you to be a killer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I figure you’re intel or spec ops or something . . .”

“I’m just an adviser.”

“Right . . .”

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111

“How many classrooms in this building?”

“Six. It’s going to be beautiful when we’re done. And

the police station will be right out there. See the stakes?”

I shielded my eyes from the glare and noted the wooden

stakes that outlined the L-shaped building.

“Yeah, we’re going to build it, and they’ll come and

blow it back up.”

“You mean Zahed?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe not. I think Zahed is forcing the workers to

give some of their pay to the Taliban. And I think when

the school and the police station open, he’ll try to con-

trol the police. He’ll close down the school, too, but not

right away—if he thinks he can make a buck.”

“What makes you think he’s blackmailing the work-

ers?”

“At the end of the week when they’re paid, three men

come around, and they form a line. I’ve seen them giv-

ing some of their money to those guys.”

“You pay them in afghanis?”

“It’s the only way.”

“Tell you what? The next time that happens, come

find me. I’ll have a talk with them.”

“Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you bring this to Captain Harruck?”

“I did. He told me that it wasn’t any of my business

what the workers did with their money.”

“Maybe it isn’t.”

“I just . . . I don’t like it. Feels like we’re in bed with

the Taliban.”

112 GH OS T RE CON

I grinned crookedly and told her I needed to get

back.

Three things happened at once when I reached my quar-

ters:

Nolan was telling me I had an urgent call from Lieu-

tenant Colonel Gordon . . .

Bronco had come onto the base and was screaming at

me to have my two bulldogs chained up and to stop fol-

lowing him . . .

And a young captain I’d trained myself at Robin

Sage, Fred Warris, was standing at my door, waiting to

speak to me.

In fact, he was in the same training class that Har-

ruck and I had taught, which I initially thought was a

coincidence. I’d heard that Warris had gone on to

become a Ghost leader, so his presence outside my billet

was suspicious . . . and strange.

I lifted a palm as all three men vied for my attention,

but Nolan shouted:

“Sir, like I said . . . it’s urgent. Something about your

father back home.”

ELEVEN

Nolan told me the call had come from the comm center,

so I ran across the base, leaving the shouters behind. I

reached the center and discovered that Gordon was on a

webcam and seated at his desk back at Fort Bragg. He

wanted to talk to me “face to face.”

I shuddered as I sat before the monitor and tried to

catch my breath. “Sir . . .”

His voice echoed off the steel walls of the Quonset

hut. “Scott, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news about

your dad. He’s in the hospital, intensive care. He’s had a

heart attack.”

“Who called you?”

“We got word from your sister.”

“Wait a second . . .” I cocked my thumb over my

114 GH OS T RE CON

shoulder. “Warris is back at my . . . how long ago did

this happen?”

“I’m not sure. Last night? Yesterday afternoon, she

didn’t say.”

“And so you’ve sent Warris to relieve me?”

“Actually, I didn’t. I sent him to serve as a liaison

officer between you and Harruck.”

“A what?”

“Well, we wanted to limit your contact with Captain

Harruck. The general’s deeply concerned about the situ-

ation there. The idea was that all communications with

Captain Harruck would go through Captain Warris.

But now I’d understand if you want to take an emer-

gency leave and go home.”

A vein began throbbing in my temple. “Sir, I’d like to

talk to my sister before I make that decision.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Sir, I’m sorry about Captain Warris being here. He’s

too valuable to be a liaison officer.”

“Mincing words with the old man?” Gordon smiled.

“I know you think this is bullshit, but I gotta do some-

thing to defuse what’s going on out there. Harruck’s

pounding hard, so we’ll let Warris act as the go-between.”

“I don’t need a go-between.”

“Apparently, you do.”

I glanced around, groping for a response, anything,

but then I just sighed in disgust. “Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you take the leave right now, Scott?”

“Because . . .”

He sat there, waiting for me to finish.

CO MB AT O P S

115

“Because I still want to believe that my mission means

something, that capturing the target will make a differ-

ence, and that the United States Army hasn’t sold its

soul to the devil. Sir. ”

He averted his gaze. “If there’s anything I can do on

my end to help, just let me know—and I’m not just talk-

ing about the mission.”

I couldn’t hide the disgust in my voice. “All right, sir.

I’ll be sending some coordinates about a field. I want

some satellite imagery on it.”

“No problem. Scott, I got your back.”

“I know that, sir.”

That was a lie to make me feel better. It wasn’t his

fault, really. As everyone had said—the situation was

complicated.

I remained in the comm center and finally got in touch

with my sister, who told me Dad was stable, but the heart

attack was a bad one and now they thought he had pneu-

monia. He’d slipped into a coma and was on a ventilator.

“I haven’t even seen him yet,” Jenn said. “Gerry and

I will be flying in from Napa tomorrow. Did you try to

call Nick or Tommy?”

“Not yet.”

“They should know more. How’re you doing? You

don’t sound too good.”

“Just having one of those days.”

“Where are you now? Classified?”

“Not really. I’m back in Afghanistan.”

116 GH OS T RE CON

“Again?”

“It’s the war that keeps on giving.”

“Will we ever finish there?”

I snorted. “Maybe next week.”

“Why don’t you retire, Scott? You’ve done enough.

Do like Tommy. Work with your hands. You love the

woodworking just like Dad. And you’re good at it, too.

Get into the furniture business or something. Gerry says

niche markets like that are the future for American man-

ufacturing.”

“Tell Gerry thanks for the business analysis. And

retirement sounds pretty good about now. Anyway, I’ll

try calling you tomorrow night. Let me know how Dad’s

doing. Okay?”

“Okay, Scott. I love you.”

“Love you, too.

I sat there, closed my eyes, and remembered sitting