Quadruple Duty: All or Nothing

He grinned again, this time even wider than before. Holding one arm overhead he turned it in a quick circle, and every one of his men filed back through the compound gates. Even the ones just behind us.

“You can signal Bradley to come down now,” he said. “Along with whoever else is up there.”

I watched him turn and begin walking down toward the beach, his wrists clasped casually behind him. When I didn’t move, he glanced back at me over his shoulder.

“Well are you coming or what?”

Thirty-Three

SAMMARA

The sand was every bit as beautiful up close as it had been from the air. I had the urge to shed my shoes and just walk barefoot through the gently lapping waves.

“Iraq, huh?”

Markus sighed as we walked side by side, squinting off into the midday sun. I’d told him everything — everything we knew, anyway. I’d rambled it all off quickly, trying to give him as much information as possible while watching for a reaction.

“And they’ve been non-comm for how long now?”

“Kyle and Ryan, a few days. Jason… much longer than that.”

“Briggs,” he spat, with a laugh. “I should leave him to rot. You should too. Even if you somehow get back the others…”

I glanced back, to where our footprints trailed out behind us. We looked like any normal everyday couple walking on the beach. Talking casually. Enjoying a beautiful day.

“You should help us,” I countered, “if you want what I promised.”

Markus stopped for a moment to look at me. “And what if I don’t?”

I hesitated. I didn’t have an answer for that. One that didn’t involve blackmail anyway, and I wasn’t ready to go there. Yet.

“I’ll be honest,” he said, walking again. “This place bores me. It’s quiet. Too quiet. And after the life I’ve lived…”

As much as time was of the essence, I let him talk. He seemed deeply introspective all of a sudden, even nostalgic. I knew both these things could only help our cause.

“Don’t get me wrong — it’s absolutely gorgeous here,” Markus went on. “It’s safe, it’s private, it’s got perfect weather.” He inhaled deeply through two big nostrils. “And the salt air is great for my lungs.”

“But you want back in,” I pointed out hopefully.

He hesitated. Eventually he nodded.

“I miss the life,” he admitted. “I miss the thrill, the excitement, the camaraderie of command. Hell, I even miss the desert!” He laughed to himself. “Can you believe that? I miss the fucking desert.”

I looked back again. Still no Dakota. It had been our plan though, to give me enough time. To let me soften him up, maybe gauge his reaction, before he saw one of the four men who’d taken Di Spatia from him.

“Briggs run Di Spatia into the ground yet?” Markus scoffed, as if reading my mind.

“You know he hasn’t. Even I realize you’ve still got people who’ve told you that. People embedded in the company from when—”

“Old friends embedded,” he cut in. “Yes, yes I do. And I know most of what’s going on. Even now.”

My body tingled with excitement. It was what I’d been hoping for.

“Sammara, do you know why I lost the company?”

“You were siphoning weapons from the US military,” I said frankly, “and selling them to insurgents.”

I saw Markus’s shoulders go tight. He nodded slowly.