Threatcon Delta by Andrew Britton Read Free Book Online Page B

did you get there?”
    “With help from a Kurd I didn’t know who had heard of my plight and risked his life. How ironic,” he said. “He never would have helped me thinking I was Catholic. Or American. Yet I am the same person as the man in the Kurdish clothes.”
    “You would have helped him, though, in a similar situation?”
    “Of course,” Phair said.
    “What happened after that?” she asked. “You could have fled.”
    “They were looking for me,” he said. “I might have fled right to them. So I pretended to be homeless until they stopped searching. So many are homeless now, you see. I knew no one would notice me. But a few days later the Irish soldiers did.”
    “You were wearing your dog tags,” Dell said.
    “Yes.” He absently rubbed the flat of his fingers across his waist.
    “Why?”
    “In case anything happened to me,” he replied. “I wanted someone to know. They would have been sold in a curio shop and made their way back, eventually.”
    “You were wearing them on your belt, tucked inside,” she noted. “Were you afraid they’d be seen around your neck?”
    “That was one reason,” he said. “Did you know that Herod the Great carried his bona fides around his waist, and not his throat?”
    “I did not,” she said. “Was he your inspiration?”
    “No. He feared someone would use them to strangle him. I was not. I had a rosary attached to the chain when I first started out. It made me feel closer to God, though I’m not sure He would have appreciated the location. Still, He knew what was in my heart.”
    “You didn’t have the rosary when they found you.”
    “No,” he said. “It broke while I was running from a militia and fell through my pant leg. Perhaps God had the final say after all.”
    “You still sound as though you wish the Irish Guardsmen hadn’t found you.”
    He sighed. “Part of me was ready to come back. I had run out of resources.”
    “Physical?”
    He nodded. “To have any significant impact here requires money and more hands and hearts. And—something else. I don’t know what.” The forty-five-year-old grinned. “It certainly requires someone who is a little more rested than I am.”
    “You can continue to do your original job, now that you’re back.”
    He managed to sustain the grin. “Do you think they’ll let me?”
    “That depends,” she said.
    “On what?”
    She replied, “On how badly you want it.”
    “That is the question, isn’t it?” he said. His eyes slid to Dina Westbrook.
     
     
    Later, after the chaplain left, Dina discussed the situation with Major Dell.
    “Spiritually,” the psychologist said, “I have never met anyone who is more plugged in. He has squeezed every bit of religious and cultural juice from the sects he has encountered, but without taking on any of the political pulp. I would say that of course he feels lost, being removed from what he perceives are his spiritual roots.”
    “But is the air of being lost just a cover for patience and a plan?” Dina queried.
    “I don’t think so, but honestly, it will take much more time to find the bottom of this man. He is a deep well.”
    “All right,” Dina said. “How about we make sure you are assigned to the Warrior Transition Brigade when you get back to the States, so that eventually you can continue to work with him?”
    “I would very much appreciate that.” It was clear that Dell was covering an even more enthusiastic response.
    They shook hands, and the psychologist walked Dina to the door. “Do you believe him?” Dell ventured.
    Dina started to raise her hand to her lips but stopped. “I’m prepared to withhold judgment,” she said, almost to herself. Then she smiled brightly.

CHAPTER FOUR
    LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
    T he old reality was back.
    It only took a few minutes for the chopper to rattle the magic dust from Kealey. His thin mantle of peace fell away as they followed Route 7 and then picked up I-95 and traced it south. The noise and shaking