“Not until I know more.”
“We recruited you especially for this mission. We laid all the groundwork, spent God knows how much time and money, took more risks than we ever should have, and now it’s all gone to hell. And you’re right in the middle of it. I knew we never should have just sent out one guy.
Temptation was too great.”
“I was never tempted.”
“Yeah, some guys just strolled along in the middle of freakin’ Afghanistan and in the mother of all coincidences took it from you.”
“I was supposed to be met by freedom fighters, not the CIA.”
“They were not the CIA,” yelled South.
“You know that for sure?” Wingo snapped.
He could hear South breathing heavily, but the colonel did not answer him.
“They were there. They knew what was in the truck. Their cred pack looked legit. This guy Simons said the plan had changed.”
“The plan had not changed. I would have known if it had.”
“I am not making this shit up, sir. It happened.”
South didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Okay, give me a description of this guy. And anybody else with him.”
Wingo did so. It was easy enough. He had been trained to remember details like that. And the truth was, when someone shoved a gun in your face, you did remember what he looked like, because it might be the last face you ever saw.
“I’ll see what I can find out, Wingo. But your staying out there has already confirmed your guilt to a lot of folks here that matter.”
“What happened to the people I was supposed to meet?”
“They were at the rendezvous spot.”
“No they weren’t.”
“Let me be more specific. They were found in shallow graves behind the building that was the rendezvous spot.”
Wingo drew a quick breath. “Then the CIA must’ve killed them.”
“Or maybe you did.”
“Sir—”
“Did you kill them?” South roared.
“No,” snapped Wingo. “If those guys weren’t CIA and the plan hasn’t changed, then they were wired into the whole thing. Which means we have a damn leak somewhere.”
“Look, Wingo, your part in this is done. You need to come in, give your debriefing, and we’ll go from there.”
“I need to make this right,” said Wingo.
“What you need to do is come in, soldier.”
“Why, so you can stick me in some prison somewhere? It sounds like you’re pretty well convinced of my guilt.”
“It doesn’t really matter if you’re guilty or not. You royally screwed up your mission and disobeyed direct orders. Any way you cut it you’re ending up in the stockade for a long time.”
At these words Wingo rested his head against the stone wall of the old building he was standing next to. His heart sank right down to the Afghan dirt.