“You need to tell her the truth,” I say with a pointed finger. “If she really likes you back, she’ll forgive you.”
“I don’t know,” he replies skeptically. “And besides… this thing’s probably not destined to last, right? I never stick around for the long haul.”
“Except you’ve pointed out to me in gory detail how much you really do like her,” I counter.
“Fuck,” he mutters, rising from the table. “I need another beer. Maybe then you can convince me to do the right thing.”CHAPTER 5MalikAfter I back out of my apartment, I lock it and pocket the key. I don’t run into anyone in the communal kitchen or living area, although I can smell freshly brewed coffee. I ignore it, having drank my one cup for the day after my morning shower.
My understanding is the only other people who are currently living here are Cage and Merritt, but I’ve yet to see either since I’ve been back. Granted, I’ve stayed holed up in my apartment, for the most part, having nothing better to do.
The Jameson apartments are on the fourth and top floor of the building, which is a renovated warehouse in the Hill District of Pittsburgh. On the outside, the building is dilapidated and covered in graffiti. The inside tells a different story.
In addition to the apartments, kitchen, and entertainment area, the fourth floor also has a state-of-the-art gym as well as access to a rooftop garden. There are two ways to descend—the original freight elevator with a steel-grated gate that takes forever to rumble up and down and the floating staircase that drops down through the dead center of the building. It’s made of reclaimed wood, has a tarnished iron railing, and steel cables that give it the appearance it just hovers there.
I choose the staircase, heading down to the second floor, which houses all the offices and administrative services of the company. Kynan spared no decorating expenses here. The walls are of the same original brick that make up the outside, but they’ve been sand-blasted to their original quality. The floors are hardwood punctuated with plush area rugs, and the ceiling is run with a gridwork of exposed beams and ducts to heighten the industrial vibe. One end of the second floor has black leather furniture set in clusters with aluminum tables where employees can work or have impromptu meetings.
On the opposite side, there are glass-walled offices along the perimeter with the floor space housing rows of stylish desks made of steel and wood. There are no cubicles dividing, which promotes a collaborative atmosphere.
As I step off the staircase onto the second floor, I cut a hard left toward a glassed office with a brass nameplate on the door that reads—Dr. Corinne Ellery.
She’s a nice woman who is sure as fuck easy on the eyes. My guess is she’s in her early thirties with thick chestnut hair she wears in a bun resting low on the back of her head. She wears glasses, which make her look smart, but seeing as she’s a doctor and all, I’m assuming she actually is.
I met with her and Kynan yesterday morning for my debriefing meeting. It was held in the large conference room on the north end of the second floor, which Kynan had set up with digital maps displayed on a large screen so we could go over the mission.
I didn’t spare any details, even the painful ones where I believe I fucked up. Based on other accounts Kynan has, I’m sure he learned nothing new on how the mission got ambushed and how we handled it all.
Jameson had been hired to work in conjunction with an international rescue team that was going into Syria to try to recover some relief workers who were taken hostage. The average person would probably be surprised to know how often governments—including our own—hire private security firms to help on a variety of covert missions. Jameson went in with a team of five—Jimmy Tate, Sal Mezzina, Merritt Gables, Tank Richardson, and me. We worked with Special Forces teams from the United Kingdom and Australia, as the hostages were predominantly from those two countries. While there were no American citizens taken prisoner, it didn’t really factor into whether Jameson took the job. If the pay is right and the risks are acceptable, we’ll help any citizens of the world.
The debriefing lasted about an hour. Dr. Ellery sat there quietly while Kynan went through a typed report he held, peppering me with questions. He had me clarify a few things, referencing the Syrian map a few times. He walked me through every step I took from the time we left the base camp until the moment I got captured.
Granted, it was a bit difficult to talk about the moments when Jimmy and Sal got hit, but I expect they were difficult for Kynan to hear again, too.