Dombroski didn’t reply, leading Brodie to conclude that “dead” was okay.
Brodie said, “General Hackett will put another letter of commendation in your file.” He wanted to add, “And maybe you’ll make general,” but that was a touchy subject for Colonel Dombroski.
Dombroski said, “I always give credit where credit is due, Scott.”
“You do.”
“And criticism when it’s appropriate.”
And advice when it’s not asked for, but Brodie said, “I appreciate your input.”
“Good. Here’s some more. Think about asking Colonel Worley if there’s any way he can provide you some backup tonight—some margin of safety.”
“All I want from Worley is transportation out of here for me, Taylor, and my prisoner.”
“All right… but—”
“Hold on. Civilian in the vicinity.” Brodie picked up his beer glass and chugged it. What’s better than a cold beer on a hot day?
“Brodie? You there?”
Brodie suppressed a belch and replied, “All clear.”
“Are we done?”
“One more question. Does Flagstaff mean anything to you?”
“Flagstaff? Like, Arizona?”
“Just the word. Like the name of an operation? A program? A weapons system? Maybe a code name for a military base? Something like that.”
Dombroski stayed silent, then said, “Never heard the word in that context. Why?”
“Someone just sat next to me. Insecure.”
“Next time call me from your room.”
“Right. FYI, I’m calling Señor Whiskey later about my plane transportation.” He added, “With luck, we might see you tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope… Okay, good luck tonight, Scott, and pass on the same to Ms. Taylor.”
“Will do.”
“Sit-rep ASAP.”
“Of course.”
“Negative further.”
Brodie hung up and stared out toward the hills of Petare. Somewhere in that vast slum was his quarry—or his fate.
He looked toward the rooftop café and saw Taylor speaking to his waiter—who knew a hot blonde when he saw one—and the waiter was pointing toward him.
Taylor headed toward his cabana, and Brodie saw that she was wearing a diaphanous wrap that she’d probably bought in the gift shop.
Brodie stood, as an officer and gentleman should, and met her halfway. She checked out his slippers and bathrobe and said, “You look like a patient in a mental ward.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
