from one part of the village to another. I’ve got nothing

actionable to hand you at this point.”

“So you’re giving up on my mission?”

“No, you’ve still got time to do what you can. It’ll

take another two weeks for the logistics to be worked

out. They’ll need to pull some people out of Helmand.

But once that happens, Zahed won’t know what hit him.

However, the Ghosts can save face by pulling Zahed out

of there before the hammer drops.”

“So you want me to get Zahed and rescue Warris, but

you want me to take my time on the rescue op.”

“Obviously this call is not being recorded and the trans-

mission is fully encrypted,” he said with a wink. “Other-

wise, I wouldn’t confirm that. But hell yes, son, you need to

begin some negotiations, but buy us the time on our end.”

“What if they torture him? What if he spills his guts

to those bastards?”

“We’ll have to take the hit, because higher believes

that securing Kandahar and the outlying areas—”

190 GH OS T RE CON

“You don’t need to finish,” I told him while sighing

in disgust.

I leaned back from the cubicle and glanced around

the comm center. I was wearing headphones and the

screen had glare protection, so no one could peer over

my shoulders.

And at that moment, I stopped calling him “sir.” I’d

known Buzz Gordon for a very long time, and that was

the most tense few moments I’ve ever had with a CO.

“Buzz, I need your advice on something.”

“Glad I’m still good for something.”

“I, uh, I can’t tell you everything.”

“Scott, it’s me.”

“I know, I know.” I took a deep breath and spoke

slowly. “I’ve got a problem with Ramirez. I want you to

know that if something happens to me, you’ll need to

confine and question him. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Whoa, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying I got a problem.”

“Scott, what’s going on out there?”

“If it comes down to it, I just want you to question

Ramirez, all right?”

“I’m shocked. He’s one of the top five operators we

have, and you’re telling me you think he’s going to frag

you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would he want to do that, Scott?”

“Like I said, I’m not in a position to tell you every-

thing.”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

CO MB AT O P S

191

“I know. I’m trying to save my own ass here.”

“So let me give you the company line here: You’re the

on-scene commander, and I expect and trust you to

resolve the situation in a professional and expeditious

manner. You have been and will continue to be put in

situations where you have two competing obligations.”

“I understand.”

“And now as a friend and fellow soldier, I’ll tell you

this: If Ramirez is a problem—in the way that you

suggest—then, for the good of the Ghosts, for the good

of all operators, you need to address that problem.”

“In any way I can?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you consider that an order?”

“You know I can’t.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “Yeah . . .”

“Scott, I wasn’t aware it’s gotten that bad.”

I couldn’t meet his gaze. “Well, Harruck’s baby-

sitting the governor on our base, the spook is working

on something that involves the Chinese smuggling in

HER F guns, and the local police and Army are nonexis-

tent. So yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Gordon shook his head. “Two weeks, Scott. Get Zahed.

If you wind up rescuing Warris early, then do it if you

have to, but if you can sit on your hands, then do that,

too.”

“All right.”

I couldn’t help but rejoice over his order to delay res-

cuing Warris. And I couldn’t believe the irony of that,

either. Warris’s capture was giving them an excuse to

192 GH OS T RE CON

break out the big guns and finally put some steel on ter-

rorist targets. Maybe they were realizing that COIN

operations needed some teeth behind them.

Then again, I wondered how effective even a major

offensive might be. Word would get back to Zahed that

forces were moving toward Sangsar, and he would just

skip town until the fireworks were over. Then he’d come

back and set up shop once more. Just a vicious circle. We

had to get him before he left. They needed to cordon off

that entire village.

When I left the comm center, I got word from the

main gate that someone had come to see me: Shilmani. I

went out there and had a seat on the tailgate of his water

truck. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to help you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

I shouldn’t have hesitated. But I did. “Okay, I trust

you.”

“Then change your clothes. Burki wants to see you.

I’ll wait here for you.”

“We always travel in pairs. I’ll need to bring another

soldier.”

He didn’t flinch. “Okay.”

When I walked into our billet, several of the guys came

over to me, and Brown said, “We think Ramirez is sick.

He’s been throwing up since you guys got back. Nolan’s

taking him to the hospital.”

CO MB AT O P S

193

“Oh, okay, good. Treehorn?”

The big guy looked up at me from his bunk. “Yeah,

boss?”

“Get dressed like an Afghan. We’re going for a little

ride.”

“You got it.”

I headed to the back of the billet, where Nolan was

handing a canteen to Ramirez. “Come on, bro. You need

to go over there.”

Ramirez, who was wearing only his skivvies now,

shook his head.

“Hey, Joey, you okay?” I asked, my tone more of a

challenge than an expression of concern.

He could barely face me. “Perfect.”

“Then why are you throwing up? You didn’t look sick

a little while ago . . .”

He snorted. “You see that crap they’re serving in the

mess hall? I guess it takes a while to seep into your

guts.”

“Well, I hope you feel better. Soon.” I walked back to

my bunk and began changing. Before I was finished,

Nolan and Ramirez pushed past me and headed outside.

Brown lifted his head from his bunk. “Hey, Captain?

Everything okay? I’m getting some bad vibes from you

and Joey.”

“We’re cool. I’m just worried about him.”

“We’re worried about you.”

I drew back my head. “Me?”

“Yeah. You got a lot of pressure. We lost Matt. Warris

is out there. We get new orders yet?”

194 GH OS T RE CON

I gave a short nod. “I’ll brief you guys when we get

back.”

Shilmani drove Treehorn and me to one of two shacks

positioned along more foothills on the far west side of

the town. The shacks rose improbably from the dirt and

pockmarked hills, and they looked as though they’d

been there for centuries. Long rows of water jugs were

stacked on a rickety framework, and two more pickup

trucks were parked behind them.

Two men with AK-47s sat on the roof of one shack,

and the rickety ladder they’d used to ascend to their