Chapter 22
Haber stood in the doorway, a slender, sharp-featured thirty-five-year-old man with a shaved head, gray trimmed goatee, and cold, dark-brown eyes. He was dressed in Sitka Optifade camo bibs and jacket, with Crispi Italian hunting boots. The mission was bankrolled by some deep pockets, and Haber had insisted that he and the men be outfitted properly with the best that money could buy.
Even at rest, Haber had a stately presence. There was something old-fashioned about him. A hunter, an alpha. A born leader.
“Get in here,” Haber said, going back into the office, taking his own M&M pack out of the locker behind him and clunking it on his desk.
Devine watched Haber expertly load, check, and sight his automatic weapon. He did it with a skilled workman’s quick yet reverent efficiency. There was something pretty about it. Like watching a musician tuning his instrument, or a master chef honing his knife.
The inside of his office was as spare and rugged as the man. A cot and camp chair, coffeepot on a plywood shelf, a whiteboard tacked with aerial and topographical maps.
“Where’s Leighton? Here?” Haber said, tapping at the map.
“Yes. I have him on this perimeter,” Devine said, stepping over and drawing a line with his finger.
“So you definitely think he went south here?” Haber said, pointing.
“Yes. His track through the mud puts him on this downslope to the southwest right toward the state land. That’s our advantage. That’s some of the most uninhabited timberland in the state. In the northeast, probably.”
“Okay, good,” Haber said. “Why aren’t you on the bird yet?”
Devine winced.
“I wanted to talk to you in private, sir. I think we should medevac out Therkelson. We could have Monroe fly him over the hill and down to Chapman and call 911 anonymously.”
“C’mon, he has a broken arm,” Haber said. “Last thing we need is more heat.”
“I think his back is broke, too, sir.”
Haber glanced at him angrily.
“He’s stabilized, right?”
“But there could be internal bleeding.”
“Don’t give me ‘could be,’ Devine. Don’t be an old biddy. Therk is old-school tough. Just give him some morphine until we get this thing settled. Then we’ll get him completely patched up.”
“You sure, boss?”
Haber glared at him. Not a comfortable feeling. Yet he went on.
“I mean, maybe we should retreat, sir. Get out of here. Reassess. We’re starting to take some serious casualties now. We’re down to seven guys.”
“Not that I need to explain this to you, Devine, but I just got off the phone with our southern friends who are bankrolling the operation, and we’ve agreed to ramp up the schedule. We leave tomorrow. They’ll have good men at the airfield to replace the ones we lost. It’s all set up.”
“Tomorrow we go?”
“Yes, buddy, and we’re leaving here right away. After we bag the cop, we’re scrubbing this entire hill. Gone without a trace. Is that good enough for you, you worrywart?”
Haber smiled then as he pounded Devine in the arm.
Devine smiled back.
O Captain, my Captain, he thought.
“Sir, yes, sir,” he said.
Chapter 23