“What in the hell happened out there?” said South.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” said Wingo.
“Where are you?”
“I got ambushed out there. A dozen to one.”
“Where are you, Sam?”
It was bothering Wingo that the man had asked that same question twice.
Wingo said, “Where are you?”
“This is beyond a disaster,” snapped South.
“There was nothing I could do. Like I said, it was a dozen to one. And the leader had a cred pack that said CIA. It looked real enough, but I still didn’t buy their story.”
“Bullshit.”
“Tim Simons. He said he was from Nebraska. Check it out.”
“I’m not checking out anything until you come in.”
“There was nothing I could do, sir.”
“You had a fail-safe, Wingo. But since you’re talking to me I guess you didn’t deploy it when you were under strict orders to do just that if things went wrong. If you had doubts about who they were, why are you still alive?”
“The cred pack said CIA. Even if I was skeptical, I didn’t want to risk blowing up our own guys.”
“I don’t give a shit if the cred pack said Jesus Christ. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“Yeah, it had occurred to me.”
“Where is the truck?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the cargo?”
“With the truck, last time I checked.”
“This is not good, Wingo, not good at all.”
“Yeah, that had occurred to me too.”
“If you did something with the cargo—” began South.
Wingo cut him off. “If I had stolen it, do you think I’d be wasting time calling you?”
“If you wanted to cover your ass, you would.”
“With that cargo, why would I need to do that?”
“Couldn’t tell you. I don’t think like a criminal or a traitor.”
“Of which I’m neither.”
“That’s good to hear. No fallout then. But you really need to come in.”