Ghost Watch by David Rollins Read Free Book Online Page B

plenty of US-made weapons AWOL in the ’Stan – apparently, too many to worry about the ones I’d turned up. Personally, I’d have been less interested in the guns if their numbers had been intact, but their removal suggested that they were significant. Otherwise, why go to all the trouble of grinding them off?
    ‘What happened out there was a total fuck up. You know it, I know it, but I suppose giving you a decoration diverts attention from that fact as far as the folks higher up the food chain are concerned. Command must be down on its hero quota this month.’
    Mertins leaned forward, lifted the newspaper for another look, and shook his head in disappointment. ‘Well, at least a silver lining arrived this morning.’
    ‘Sir?’ I said, a little confused.
    ‘A lite colonel from OSI HQ is here to see you. Seems you’re leaving us, Cooper, thank God. He’s waiting for you in the briefing room. Dismissed.’
    LIEUTENANT COLONEL ARLEN WAYNE reclined along a row of chairs with a Time splayed across his face. He was snoring. I picked up the magazine. Inside was an old Playboy, camouflaged to avoid the ban on porn. Arlen’s mouth was open, and Miss July had a wet patch on one of her jugs. He stretched his arms above his head and pointed his toes.
    With his eyes still closed, he said, ‘I hate damn C-17 red-eye flights. The loadmasters on those fuckers have no concept of service.’
    ‘Hey, Arlen,’ I said. ‘S’up?’
    He opened his eyes. ‘In a word, me. I’ve spent the past week at thirty thousand feet, flying between Washington, Stuttgart, and LA. And now Bagram. I’m a wreck.’
    He sat up, swung his legs off the chairs, and said, ‘How about you, Vin? Been pissing anyone off lately?’ He stood and we shook hands.
    ‘It’s what I do best.’
    ‘At least it’s the enemy for a change, according to what I’ve read. I wonder who leaked the AFC to the press? I can’t find anyone who’ll confirm it – but it sounds like you deserve it. So,’ he said, examining my eyes, his gaze shifting from one to the other, ‘you doing okay?’
    I knew Arlen. He was referring to how I was doing without Anna. ‘I’m fine,’ I said.
    ‘As in fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?’
    ‘As in I’m fine until some bozo reminds me about it all over again.’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. ‘I’ll take off my clown nose.’ He turned away and stood at a desk with his old leather briefcase. ‘So why am I here?’ he said with a flourish.
    ‘Good question. You’re an oh-five. You could have dispatched underlings.’
    Arlen was several years older than me and a couple of inches shorter. He was a good agent in a stickler-for-protocol kind of way. So they made him a lieutenant colonel, and these days he was virtually running OSI HQ while our fearless leader was either sucking or blowing some overlord, depending on what was required. And yet, standing here, I noticed for the first time that the desk job seemed to be taking its pound of flesh. Those brown eyes of his weren’t as bright as they used to be, his dark hair lightening to gray at the temples, a small Japanese car tire-sized roll around his waist. The price of command.
    He took a laptop from his briefcase, opened it, and tapped on a few keys. A copy of the New York Times materialized, which at least hinted at a context for his visit. ‘So anyway, along with me, the rest of the world has been reading about your exploits,’ he said. ‘Your buddy Sergeant Fallon has made you famous. Do you know about his blog?’
    ‘Nope,’ I said, as a picture of Fallon in his army combat uniform slam-dunking a basket appeared on screen. The blog was titled Fallon’s Folly – What the hell am I doing here?
    ‘Apparently he’s been blogging since he arrived in Afghanistan.’ Arlen’s fingertips rattled across the keyboard as he spoke. ‘It’s become a hit with some folks at the Pentagon who see it as a way of gauging the morale of our