Obviously Captain Mercer and Colonel Worley had some issues, and two years in Taliban captivity wasn’t enough time for Mercer to forget or for Worley to forgive.
Well, at least Brodie and Taylor knew who Ted was. He was Ted Haggerty, and now he was dead. And, as per Emilio, he was probably the gringowhose throat Mercer had cut in the prison hut. In a normal investigation, Brodie would certainly ask the suspect about that, but the less he and Taylor knew, the better their chances—which now stood at zero—of persuading Mercer to come home and face a simple charge of desertion.
Mercer stared off at the river. “I didn’t torture Haggerty. He was happy to talk, so I gave him a quick release.”
“Good,” said Brodie. “I’m sure he’s happy to be going home.”
Mercer nodded. “He’s gone home.” He assured Brodie and Taylor, “I would give you the same quick release. I don’t enjoy torture for its own sake. It’s just for when people don’t answer me truthfully.” Mercer went dark again and stared into space.
Brodie didn’t like it when Mercer was thinking and not talking. Brodie and Taylor could, to some extent, control the conversation—but if Mercer was thinking that he needed to know more about who knew the location of his camp, or if an operation was planned, then he might start asking questions that Brodie and Taylor wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. Then it would be fish and monkey time.
To get Mercer out of his dark thoughts, Brodie said, “I know why you’re here—to kill Worley. But what is this camp all about?”
“It’s about a lot of things.”
“Right. Maggie and I have been racking our brains, and we can’t figure out why you raised an army to whack Brendan Worley.”
“Before you kill a man, you kill everything that means anything to him.”
“Well… okay. So…?”
“Worley was sent here because he has a good reputation for cleaning up the shit.”
“He mentioned that to us.” Brodie added, “Not to sound egotistical, but that’s why I… and Maggie were sent here.” Though Ms. Taylor had other qualifications.
Mercer looked at Brodie. “I’m sure you’re good at what you do. Well… until recently.”
“Right. So, back to Worley. He’s here, obviously, to destabilize the regime.”
“That’s correct. And I’m here to destabilize him and his mission. To make him look bad. And to let him know I’m here to do that.”
Brodie nodded. “Seems like an ambitious plan.”
“It is. And it’s working.”
“But you understand that Colonel Worley’s mission to destabilize the regime is in the best interest of your country.”
“I have no country.”
“Okay. But I don’t see how you can… What are you doing? Helping the Chavistas?”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“Do you sympathize with the Chavistas?”
“No. They’re assholes. Gomez is an asshole. They’re all corrupt, dishonorable, and stupid.”
“Right. They’re bad guys. So—”
“As they say in the Mideast, the enemy of my enemy—Worley—is my friend. So the Chavistas are my friends.”
“I got that. But you should think of… if not your country, then… Luis.”
“Who’s Luis?”
“Luis is every poor bastard in Venezuela who’s suffered under this regime.”
“That’s not my problem. That’s Luis’ problem. If people can’t get rid of these assholes, they deserve the government they get.”
