After a long moment, they parted.
“What are you doing here?” Luke said.
He imagined Don was down from Washington to meet with the brass at Fort Bragg, but Don dispelled that notion in just a few words.
“I came to get you,” he said.
“It’s a good deal,” Don said. “The best you’re going to get.”
They were driving through the tree-lined cobblestone streets of downtown Fayetteville in a nondescript rental sedan. Don was at the wheel, Luke in the passenger seat. People sat in open air coffee shops and restaurants along the sidewalks. It was a military city—a lot of the people who were out and about were upright and fit.
But in addition to being healthy, they also looked happy. At this moment, Luke couldn’t imagine what that felt like.
“Tell me again,” he said.
“You go out at the rank of Master Sergeant. Honorable discharge, effective at the end of this calendar year, though you can go on indefinite leave as early as this afternoon. The new pay goes into effect immediately, and carries on until discharge. Your service record is intact, and your wartime veteran’s pension and all other benefits are in place.”
It sounded like a good deal. But Luke hadn’t considered leaving the Army until this minute. The entire time he was in the hospital, he had been hoping to rejoin his unit. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Don had been negotiating an exit for him.
“And if I want to stay in?” he said.
Don shrugged. “You’ve been in the hospital for nearly a month. The records I’ve seen suggest you’ve made little or no progress in therapy, and are considered an uncooperative patient.”
He sighed. “They’re not going to take you back, Luke. They think you’re damaged goods. If you refuse the package I just described, they plan to send you out with an involuntary psychiatric discharge at your current rank and pay, with a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the sort of prospects faced by men with a discharge under those circumstances.”
Luke supposed that none of this was a very big surprise, but it was still painful to hear. He knew the deal. The Army didn’t even formally acknowledge the existence of Delta Force. The mission was classified—it never happened. So it wasn’t as if he hoped to receive a medal during a public ceremony. In Delta, you didn’t do it for the glory.
Even so, while he expected to be ignored, he didn’t expect to be thrown on the scrap heap. He had given a lot of himself to the Army, and they were ready to dump him after one bad mission. True, the mission was more than bad. It was a disaster, a debacle, but that wasn’t his fault.
“They’re kicking me out either way,” he said. “I can go quietly or I can go kicking and screaming.”
“That’s right,” Don said.
Luke sighed heavily. He watched the old town roll past. They passed out of the historic district and into a more modern roadway with strip malls. They came to the end of a long block and Don turned left into a Burger King parking lot.
Civilian life was coming, whether Luke liked it or not. It was a world he had left fourteen years before. He had never expected to see it again. What went on in that world?
He watched an overweight young couple waddle toward the door of the restaurant.
“What am I going to do?” Luke said. “After the end of this year? What kind of civilian job can I possibly get?”
“That’s easy,” Don said. “You’re going to come work for me.”
Luke looked at him.
Don pulled into a spot near the back. There were no other cars here. “The Special Response Team is ready to go. While you’ve been lying in bed and examining your navel, I’ve been wrestling with bureaucrats and drawing up paperwork. I’ve got funding cemented in place, at least through the end of the year. I’ve got a small headquarters in the Virginia suburbs, not far from the CIA. They’re stenciling the letters on the door as we speak. I’ve got the ear of the FBI director. And I spoke on the phone—briefly, I might add—with the President of the United States.”
Don turned off the car and looked at Luke.
“I’m ready to hire my first agent. You’re it.”
He gestured with his head at a large sign near the front of the parking lot. Luke glanced where Don indicated. Just beneath the Burger King logo was a series of black letters on a white background. Taken together, the letters spelled out a bleak message.
Now Hiring. Inquire Within.
“If you don’t want to join me, I’ll bet there are plenty of other opportunities out there for you.”
Luke shook his head. Then he laughed.
“This has been a strange day,” he said.
Don nodded. “Well, it’s about to get even stranger. Here’s another surprise. This one’s a gift. I didn’t want to give it to you at the hospital because hospitals are awful places. Especially VA hospitals.”
Standing in front of the car was a beautiful young woman with long brown hair. She looked in at Luke, tears in her eyes. She wore a light jacket, open to reveal a mommy shirt. The woman was very pregnant.
With Luke’s son.
It took Luke a split second to recognize her—something he would never reveal to anyone, not even under pain of torture. His mind hadn’t been working right these past weeks, and she was out of place in this wasteland of a parking lot. He didn’t expect to see her here. Her presence was unreal, otherworldly.
Rebecca.
“Oh my God,” Luke said.
“Yeah,” Don said. “You might want to go say hello before she finds someone better. Around here? It won’t take long.”
“Why… why did you bring her here?”
Don shrugged. He looked around at the Burger King parking lot.
“It’s more romantic than meeting her back at the base.”
Then Luke was out of the car. He seemed to float to her. They embraced, and he held her for a long time. Endlessly. He never wanted to let go of her.
For the first time, Luke felt tears streaming down his own face. He breathed deeply. It felt so good to hold her. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t think of a single word to say.
She looked up at him and rubbed the tears away from his face.
“Isn’t it great?” she said. “Don said you’re going to work for him.”
Luke nodded. He still didn’t speak. It seemed like it was settled, then. Don and Becca had made the decision for him.
“I love you so much, Luke,” she said. “I’m so glad this military life is over.”
CHAPTER SIX
May 3
7:15 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Headquarters of the Special Response Team
McLean, Virginia—Suburbs of Washington, DC
“I think I might have something for you,” Don Morris said.
They were sitting in Don’s new office. The place was starting to take shape. There were photos of his wife and kids on the desk, framed ribbons and proclamations on the walls. The desk itself was a wide expanse of gleaming oak. On top of it sat a telephone console, a computer monitor, a cell phone, a satellite phone, and not much else. Don wasn’t a big believer in paperwork.
“Something