“Okay…”
She wasn’t explaining this right, or maybe she was seeingthings. Jorja huffed and put the email he handed her back in the file. “There’s only one way the orders for a job supposedly from the DOD came from either of those computers. The chances of having one person lie are a lot higher than two.” She pulled both emails out a little from the underside of the folders and pointed to the images. “How big are the chances that their mockup of the logo would be exactly the same?” She went to her computer and pulled up the stock image site she’d checked earlier. “Both have used this one, and not the logo from the Department of Defense website.” She put the images next to the screen. “First rule of masquerading as someone else is use their logos and not one you buy from a site which is known for fudging with AI images.”
“Good catch,” Remi acknowledged. “So, we know both She Town and Sultanovich are in cahoots. We don’t know why.”
“Umm, maybe we do.” Jorja flipped to another screen, this time a Google search. “The reason I’m pointing this at Brant is his son was a Marine Raider on that mission with Gunnar and the others on the list. He didn’t come home alive.”
“Payback?”
“It makes sense,” Jorja replied. “I don’t know, maybe Brant’s mind snapped or something. Because everything I have on him, he seems like a legit stand-up guy.” She covered a yawn with her hand. “But losing your only son…”
“It’s easy to want to place the blame on the person who led the mission he was on,” Remi finished.
“Right? I don’t know how I’d react.” She couldn’t even imagine the pain Brant and his family were going through. “But I’m pretty sure pissed off and mad at the world would be one of the emotions I’d feel.”
“I can see that happening,” Remi said. “Let’s see if we can connect some more dots until the guys are back on theground at a base, then we’ll call it a night and come back to it tomorrow with fresh eyes.”
“I like that plan.” She copied the stickies she needed, stuck them in order to a clipboard, propped it next to her computer, and got back to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Gunnar stuckone finger in his ear and wriggled it about, trying to adjust the ever-present ringing sound from being too close to gunfire for too many years. Sometimes it receded to almost a dull roar and was bearable. Tonight, it just plain sucked. “Fuck.”
“Huh?” Tyrone stuck his head around the door. “What happened? Is it worse?”
“Nothin’ happened.” He swallowed down the frustration. He hated being in the dark, and based on the update Remi had just given him, shit was going to get real very fucking fast. “Just feeling every fucking day I’ve done this job.” He went back to stripping off his gear. The armor would go back on again once he’d changed into clean clothes. But even without a shower, changing clothes would go a long way to making him feel human again.
Tyrone stepped around the partition wall which separated their bunks in the hangar they were using as a base. Getting out of Afghanistan had been easier than they’d hoped, and the helo had only dropped its flares twice. They’dall been prepared for a much bumpier ride. “Let me see that wound.”
“It feels fine.” He shrugged off Tyrone’s arm. “I’m not pulling that shit off until we have a shower to soak it first.”
“I’ll go ask the Italians for some oil. They are bound to have a stash for cooking somewhere,” Tyrone offered.
“Nah, we’ll be home tomorrow.” Gunnar pulled his vest on over his head again. “I’ll survive until then.”
“If that gets infected and half your body falls off, don’t come crying to me.”
“He sounds like my nonna. This is one of the strange things she would say,” a voice said followed by a knock, and Valerio Gambino stepped into the room. “How do you run crying to someone if your bottom half falls off? I thought it was only in Italy nonnas had these weird sayings. I did not know medics used them too.”
“Bah,” Tyrone grunted and disappeared out of the room, leaving both team commanders to their conversation. Not that there was much privacy here, but at least they had the illusion of it.
“Hey, Val.” Now that they weren’t being extracted out of a hot zone, Gunnar had time to be reasonably friendly with the Italian COMSUBIN.
“Your prisoner, he does not want to talk.” Valerio grabbed the lone chair, turned it backward, and straddled it. “At least not to my men.”
“We’ll see what he does when I go in there.” Gunnar knew Valerio wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the statement. After all, he’d served with Marco for long enough to know Gunnar and his guys wouldn’t cause an international incident or break any laws. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece though.” Not so long ago, while on diplomatic duties on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan, Valerio had managed to get himself captured by a rogue unit of Taliban. His rescue byanother Black Ops unit had caused friction between the US and most NATO countries, but had strengthened the ties between the US and Italy.
“Yeah, my wife, she was pleased too,” Valerio said. “Tell me, friend. What do you know of a Ghost unit?” he asked. “One which is not fully manned by Americans.”
Gunnar winced internally, but didn’t let it show in his body language. “Like you, I have heard rumors and whispers,” he replied. “But I have yet to see proof of one with my own eyes. Why?”
“Because I am not sure who I should ask about its members,” Valerio said. “I am… is it you say…” he shrugged, “nosey?”
“Nosey or curious works. I’d want to know who I should thank if I was in your shoes too.”
“No, it is not to thank,” Valerio said quietly. “I think one of the men who rescued me is my brother.”
“Not possible, friend.” Gunnar only knew of one unit who was similar to the one Valerio mentioned. “We buried Stefano. He’s not coming back.”
