The Good Soldier Read Online Free Page A
CIA had specialized agents on site to handle the interrogations. Even if they used the field agents we were attached to, they wouldn't allow us in the room with a prisoner. We had been trained in interrogation techniques, though, and I had a feeling that training was about to come in handy.
Bear paced the room along the walls. "You believe this garbage?" He said it flatly, shaking his head.
I shrugged. "We knew it was coming."
"Yeah, but…" He threw his hands up and resumed pacing.
"Just sit back, nod your head and don't admit anything."
"You know I can't stand that suck up crap, Jack."
"Me either, big man, but we've got no choice. Let's just take our slap on the wrist, get out of here and get Abbot on the phone."
"Abbot," he said, shaking his head. "Who knows what they've filled his head with by now?"
I agreed. Chances were he and Keller had already been briefed and given Martinez's side of the story.
"He'll listen to us. Don't worry about that."
Abbot would listen, I felt sure of it. He had known both of us since we were eighteen years old. He oversaw our training and our placement within the agency.
"I still can't believe he agreed to these garbage orders," Bear said.
"Yeah, well," I said. "I don't think he had much choice."
Following the attacks, the agency pushed hard for all of Abbot's men to deploy to the mid-east. Most of the guys went to Afghanistan to join in the hunt for Bin Laden and the attack on the Taliban. The remaining twelve of us were sent here. The best of the best is what Abbot had said, and that meant our talents were being wasted away guarding frigging doors and doing grunt work for guys like Martinez while he and his team botched opportunity after opportunity. These guys weren't operators, they were baboons.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" Bear said.
"Didn't realize I was."
He stopped in the corner opposite the door and leaned back against the wall. "I'm done with this."
"The team?" I said.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm ready to get out."
Bear and I joined the Marines at the same time. And even though I only had a few months left until my enlistment ended, he still had two years to go. When the topic came up, neither of us could make a good argument for or against doing another two to four years. I didn't know what I would do next, though. I'd spent enough time dealing with CIA operatives that I knew I wanted nothing to do with the agency, even though I had an open invitation after my enlistment was up. The FBI wouldn't talk to us without law degrees, so they were out, not that they were ever really in. There was local law enforcement and government agencies like the DEA, but after everything I'd done, I didn't take to the idea of having to follow laws in order to do my job.
"I'm starting to feel the same way," I said.
I leaned my head back, resting it against the top of the wooden chair back, studying the mold patterns on the ceiling that started in the corner near the door, spread out evenly across the ceiling and then turned to the right, stopping before it reached the opposite wall. I wondered what was above the room.
"Look, Bear-" A rap at the door interrupted me.
Bear straightened up and braced himself against the wall. His face looked tired and pale and void of any emotion. He stared down at his boots. They'd taken our laces, but left us with our shoes.
I thought about staying seated at the table, but if they decided to come in and rush us, it would be better for me to be standing. I got up and went to the far end of the room, away from the door, and leaned against the wall adjoining Bear's wall.
We heard another knock and muffled voices, and then the distinct sound of a key entering the chamber of a lock followed by the latch turning. The handle bent down and the door cracked open a few inches. The barrel of a gun pushed though. I felt my stomach sink into that all too familiar personal pit of despair.
"Turn and face the wall!" a man shouted.
Bear looked at me, his
Bear paced the room along the walls. "You believe this garbage?" He said it flatly, shaking his head.
I shrugged. "We knew it was coming."
"Yeah, but…" He threw his hands up and resumed pacing.
"Just sit back, nod your head and don't admit anything."
"You know I can't stand that suck up crap, Jack."
"Me either, big man, but we've got no choice. Let's just take our slap on the wrist, get out of here and get Abbot on the phone."
"Abbot," he said, shaking his head. "Who knows what they've filled his head with by now?"
I agreed. Chances were he and Keller had already been briefed and given Martinez's side of the story.
"He'll listen to us. Don't worry about that."
Abbot would listen, I felt sure of it. He had known both of us since we were eighteen years old. He oversaw our training and our placement within the agency.
"I still can't believe he agreed to these garbage orders," Bear said.
"Yeah, well," I said. "I don't think he had much choice."
Following the attacks, the agency pushed hard for all of Abbot's men to deploy to the mid-east. Most of the guys went to Afghanistan to join in the hunt for Bin Laden and the attack on the Taliban. The remaining twelve of us were sent here. The best of the best is what Abbot had said, and that meant our talents were being wasted away guarding frigging doors and doing grunt work for guys like Martinez while he and his team botched opportunity after opportunity. These guys weren't operators, they were baboons.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" Bear said.
"Didn't realize I was."
He stopped in the corner opposite the door and leaned back against the wall. "I'm done with this."
"The team?" I said.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm ready to get out."
Bear and I joined the Marines at the same time. And even though I only had a few months left until my enlistment ended, he still had two years to go. When the topic came up, neither of us could make a good argument for or against doing another two to four years. I didn't know what I would do next, though. I'd spent enough time dealing with CIA operatives that I knew I wanted nothing to do with the agency, even though I had an open invitation after my enlistment was up. The FBI wouldn't talk to us without law degrees, so they were out, not that they were ever really in. There was local law enforcement and government agencies like the DEA, but after everything I'd done, I didn't take to the idea of having to follow laws in order to do my job.
"I'm starting to feel the same way," I said.
I leaned my head back, resting it against the top of the wooden chair back, studying the mold patterns on the ceiling that started in the corner near the door, spread out evenly across the ceiling and then turned to the right, stopping before it reached the opposite wall. I wondered what was above the room.
"Look, Bear-" A rap at the door interrupted me.
Bear straightened up and braced himself against the wall. His face looked tired and pale and void of any emotion. He stared down at his boots. They'd taken our laces, but left us with our shoes.
I thought about staying seated at the table, but if they decided to come in and rush us, it would be better for me to be standing. I got up and went to the far end of the room, away from the door, and leaned against the wall adjoining Bear's wall.
We heard another knock and muffled voices, and then the distinct sound of a key entering the chamber of a lock followed by the latch turning. The handle bent down and the door cracked open a few inches. The barrel of a gun pushed though. I felt my stomach sink into that all too familiar personal pit of despair.
"Turn and face the wall!" a man shouted.
Bear looked at me, his
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