One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [13]
She began to sob. “You’ve said that before.... I worry all the time.... I’m afraid when the phone rings. It’s always the same man telling me you’re okay. I think to myself, Why would I think he’s not okay?, then realize the call is because someone else is dead. One of these days he’s going to tell me you’re dead. I can’t do this anymore. . . .”
I knew then that something had broken; something inside Heather had collapsed under the strain. She had always known the importance of my work, and had given me unwavering support through absences at Christmas, birthdays, and anniversaries. She had been my biggest cheerleader, but something had changed. It sank in for the first time that this really was my last tour. I love the mission with a passion. More than just a job, it defines who I am. But make no mistake, I love my family more.
I held her close, stroking her hair. “Shhh. That’s not going to happen. Look, I’ll talk to Kurt, see if I can get a weekend at home after the lockdown, so I can be at Angie’s birthday. That’ll be a start, won’t it?”
Heather looked at me, her face softening. I had hoped that night that committing to come home for Angie’s birthday would be the first step toward Heather’s believing in our new future.
Before I could say anything else, Angie came scampering in from outside. “Dad! The food’s on fire!”
Heather broke the embrace and looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. She gave me a halfhearted smile. “Go save the steaks. You can save the world tomorrow. We’ll see you in a month.”
I smiled back, kissed her on the lips, and jogged out to the grill.
After dinner, Heather went to clean the kitchen and I took Angie to her room on my back. I turned out the lights and lay next to her.
“Dad, did you know Mr. Paul’s going to teach me to ride a bike?”
“Mom told me that. I can’t wait to see you do it.”
I answered nicely but wanted to leap out of bed, run next door, and punch good ol’ Mr. Paul in the mouth. Maybe I wanted to punch myself, I don’t know.
“Will you watch me when you get back?”
“Of course I will, doodlebug. Go to sleep.”
She closed her eyes but kept talking. “How long are you going to be gone this time?”
I felt an acid bile in my stomach. “Same amount of time, but this will be the last time for a while.”
“How come you always have to go? Mr. Paul never goes away. How come he gets to play with Megan all the time?”
Angie was old enough to make connections between my life and the lives of others. Looking at her by the glow of the nightlight, I felt more torn than I ever had in my life, pulled in opposite directions by forces outside of my control. It was almost a physical pain.
I stroked her hair. “You know why I have to go.”
“To keep the bad men away?”
I leaned over and gave her a kiss. “That’s right, to keep the bad men away.”
8
Memories of that night, and the commitment I had made to Heather, were interrupted by Blaine Alexander moving to the front of the table. He addressed the group. “Well, I’m lucky to be working with my favorite team on this one.”
The comment caused the team to laugh. Whenever he became involved, the endgame had begun, so whatever team he was working with became his favorite team. Blaine and I had worked together on multiple operations in the Taskforce. He was a pretty switched-on guy, politically savvy and tactically sound. He had to be to keep the job. Before he could continue, I raised my hand. “Sir, I need to talk to Colonel Hale. Can you start without me? It won’t take a minute.”
He nodded, knowing what it was about. “Yeah, go ahead.”
I left the room at a jog, seeing Kurt talking to his deputy commander, George Wolffe, outside of the Ops Center. George had come over from the CIA’s National Clandestine Service. I don’t know him near as well, but from what I’ve seen, he’s calm and levelheaded. Unlike a lot of the folks at the CIA, Kurt said he was a meat-eater, so that was good enough for me. I didn’t mind talking in front of him.
“Colonel Hale.