I couldn’t repress my sigh of disgust. “Good luck

with that. Well, thanks for coming out, then.”

“So, you’re not taking a leave?”

I snorted. “I e-mailed my brother. I’ve already told

him I can’t come.”

“You’re putting this in front of your father’s funeral?

Are you sure? Are you sure you won’t regret this for the

rest of your life?”

“Simon, I lost a guy here. I’ve got another guy who

was captured. One of your men got killed while up there

with me. I’ve got a young captain trying to help a village.

I just can’t walk away now. I won’t regret it. My family

understands. My dad would understand.”

He took a deep breath, gave a curt nod. “All right.

Good luck, then.”

I’d missed more births, birthdays, anniversaries, holi-

days, and even funerals than I could remember. It didn’t

get any easier. In fact, it got harder, and every time I

spoke to my brothers or my sister on the phone, I had to

reassure myself that the life I’d chosen was the right one

because the distance between me and “the real world”

grew larger every year.

And yes, I’d lied to Harruck. My brothers and sister

would not understand. They would never tell me, but I

could see it in their eyes, quite clearly. My sister once

told me that I never did anything for myself. That wasn’t

212 GH OS T RE CON

true. But as I stood there, watching Harruck go, I

couldn’t help but resent some of the sacrifices, and I sur-

rendered to the guilt of not attending my father’s funeral

because yes, I’d put my job first. I’d given a lot to the

Army, to the Ghosts, but missing Dad’s funeral . . .

maybe that was too much.

We hitched a ride aboard one of the supply Chinooks,

and we had that pilot drop us off about a kilometer east

of the mountains. We set down in a well-protected valley

not far from our FARP (Forward Arming and Resupply

Point), used by gunships, Blackhawks, and Chinooks

alike, so our bird was not a curious sight in that zone.

We would hike in with less chance of being detected by

Taliban fighters posted along cliffs that overlooked the

village. Their gazes would be trained on the more obvi-

ous lines of approach, and we’d be coming up on their

flank.

Ramirez and I wore the two Cross-Coms so we could

easily detect friend from foe, but the others were blind

because of the last HER F gun blast, so our Alpha and

Bravo teams would need to stick together. Treehorn, our

one-man Charlie “team” and sniper, would be posted

outside the main exit tunnel we’d chosen, ready to pick

off anyone who pursued us. We chose not to wear body

armor to move more swiftly through the tunnels. Again,

my plan was to avoid all enemy contact.

Yes, that was the plan. Would it survive the first

enemy contact? Of course not.

CO MB AT O P S

213

A remarkably cool breeze tugged at our turbans and

shemaghs, and if you spotted us hiking along the ridges,

you would swear we were drug smugglers or Taliban.

Ramirez was more quiet than usual, but I think he

appreciated my business-as-usual attitude, even if it was

a disguise. The mission took priority. We both knew

that.

But I would still keep a sharp eye on him. He led Jen-

kins, Hume, and Brown, and I’d told Brown in private

that because Joey wasn’t feeling good I wanted him to

look after the sergeant. He said he would.

I kept Smith and Nolan close, and as we approached

the first cave entrance after about sixty minutes of rug-

ged and slow climbing, I sent off Bravo team to the sec-

ond entrance, about a quarter kilometer west of ours

and located about two hundred meters higher up the

mountain. The caves and adjoining tunnels were roughly

shaped like two letter Ys attached at their bases, with

pairs of entrances on either side of the mountain. When

my team got into the first tunnel and reached the cave

area where Warris had been cut off, our lights revealed a

fresh passage dug through the debris.

“Ghost Lead, this is Treehorn. I’m in position, over.”

“Roger that. What do you got out there?”

“Nothing. Not even any guards. Weird.”

“All right, hang on.”

I gestured for Smith and Nolan to start planting the

first set of charges, while I crept off farther down the

tunnel, toward the starlight at the end of the jagged

seam in the rock. I paused at the edge and stole a look

214 GH OS T RE CON

into the valley below. Sangsar lay in the distance, a few

lights flickering, the majority of the homes blanketed in

deep shadows.

Warris was down there, somewhere, perhaps in some

dank basement, being questioned, having battery cables

attached to his genitalia, having insects shoved in his

ears. Was he man enough to keep his mouth shut? Was

he willing to die for his country? Had I taught him

enough?

I grinned over a strange thought. Maybe his hatred

for me would help keep him alive. He’d tell himself, I

need to survive this so I can burn the bastard responsible. I

accepted that. And even wondered, were I to rescue

him, if he would change his mind, keep quiet, tell me

that was his thank-you for pulling him out of hell. But

no, the world was hardly that simple, and Warris’s moral

high ground was pretty damned high. Rescue or not,

he’d want to hang me.

“Ghost Lead, this is Blue Six, in position, over.”

“Roger that, Blue Six, stand by,” I told the Bradley

commander. Harruck had come through and our ride

home was waiting.

I slipped just outside the cave and pulled up the satel-

lite imagery in my HUD. The monocle covering one of

my eyes flashed as the data came through.

Glowing yellow lines that represented the series of caves

and tunnels moved through a wireframe image of the

mountain chain. The diamonds indicating Bravo team

flickered on and off, and the signal grew weaker the

deeper they moved. That I even got some signal was

CO MB AT O P S

215

surprising. So far, no red diamonds within the moun-

tain or outside.

Had Zahed just called back all of his guards? Were

they all just tired? Why had they left the tunnels com-

pletely unprotected?

My hackles began to rise, and that smell I detected

was not the dampness of the tunnel but an ambush.

“Ghost Team, this is Ghost Lead. I don’t like this.

No defenses here. Plant your charges and let’s get the

hell out as fast as we can.”

“Roger that,” said Ramirez.

I was beginning to lose my breath. Something was

wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I ran down the

tunnel, back to where Smith and Nolan were working.

“Are we set?”

Nolan looked up at me. “Remotes good to go. Need

to finish up at the entrance where you just were.”

“All right, let’s go,” I said.

“Ghost Lead, this is Ramirez! I just got out of my

tunnel. Scanning the village now. They got mortar

teams setting up just outside the wall. They got tipped