“JSOC could insert a team—a Delta team—into the Venezuelan jungle to apprehend Mercer.”
Taylor was coming perilously close to a logical solution.
She continued, “That would be a very fitting type of justice.”
“Right.” But Brodie wanted to be the one—with Maggie Taylor’s help—to bring Kyle Mercer to justice. He didn’t need or want an already overhyped, star-studded Delta team to get the credit. This was a CID operation. His own ego, he assured himself, had nothing to do with it. He was going to do this for the CID and for Colonel Dombroski who could take the credit. He wouldn’t object, however, to a letter of commendation, maybe even some public recognition for finding and arresting the famous deserter Kyle Mercer—Brodie’s face and voice disguised, of course.
“Brodie?”
“Right. Good thinking.” He added, “But we—you and I—need to locatethat camp before a team is inserted into Venezuela. I’m not going to file a report based on my interview with a prostitute and expect the Pentagon to act on it.” He reiterated, “We need to get down there and get a fix on this camp.”
Taylor thought about that and nodded reluctantly. “All right… I see your point.”
“Good.” He thought about Mercer’s armed camp, whatever it was. It was interesting but not altogether surprising that Captain Mercer would re-create some version of the rugged combat training and maybe even the camaraderie he had left behind on the Afghan frontier. But the question was, why? Captain Mercer could tell him, and also tell him why he’d deserted. That remained the big question.
Taylor said, “Our chances of actually finding the camp are not good. The forests and jungles in the south of Venezuela are massive.”
“We have Carmen’s travel itinerary to go by.”
“For a man who doesn’t believe his superior officers are being straight with him, you put a lot of credence in the paid testimony of a prostitute.”
“She seemed sincere.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” She asked, “Should we call the boss now?”
“I need at least two drinks to talk to him.”
“Brodie—”
“Later. I have to think about how to make Dombroski think it’s his idea that we go into the jungle to find Mercer.”
“You’re a manipulator.”
“I manipulate the brass, but I’m straight with my peers and subordinates.”
She looked at him. “I believe that. But it’s still not right to withhold information from your superior officer.”
“That works both ways.”
She didn’t reply to that. After a moment she said, “We do need to call Worley since he’s got his pilot on standby.” She opened the glove box and handed him the sat phone.
“Right.” He leaned out the window to get clear sky and dialed Worley.
As promised, the man picked up immediately. “Worley.”
“Brodie.”
“Still alive?”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“You need a plane?”
“Not tonight.”
There was a pause, then Worley said, “I’m sure he skipped town. And you should do the same.”
“I’ll take that up with Quantico.”
