One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [61]
I had seen stranger things and let it go. I checked my watch and wallet and saw that I still had both, so they had failed in their attempts. I picked up my backpack and looked through it. All appeared to be there. I honed in on the small outside pocket, torn open by the assault. A shock went through me. The MP3 player was gone. I ripped through the rest of the knapsack looking for the device. It wasn’t there. I searched the ground around me, seeing nothing. I ran back the way I had come, scanning left and right, but still came up empty. I stopped searching. What the hell am I going to tell Jennifer? How are we going to make an exchange? How on God’s green earth have I managed to lose the device?
I flagged down a taxi, gave him directions, and sat back for the ride. Before I knew it, I was back at the hotel. I exited the cab and dragged myself up to our room, not wanting to tell Jennifer what had happened, knowing she would hate me for the incompetence that would cost her uncle his life.
I unlocked the door. She wasn’t in sight, so I checked the bathroom. It was also empty. I was surprised, and felt the anger rise. I remembered I had said not to leave, but I could see her going out just to spite me. I was working myself into a fine, justifiable rage, building up an argument to counter the sting of losing the MP3 player, when I noticed a piece of paper on the bed. I picked it up and got the second shock of the day.
You said you would call when you arrived. If you would like to see the girl in one piece, please call immediately.
36
I stared at the note for a heartbeat and then sat heavily on the bed, holding my head in my hands. I had failed all the way around. I had misjudged the opposition and misjudged my own capabilities. I’m a fucking fraud. I should’ve never come down here. Nothing good was going to come out of continuing now. I ran through my options and settled on the best course of action: Get the fuck out of here, right now. Get back to the United States. I could fly back and relocate to another part of the country, starting over again. I wasn’t without skills, although they had proven worthless here. I could hire on with a security firm. I had the credentials. They were hiring twenty-five-year-olds with only basic training on their résumé. I could go overseas and make some money, let this entire fiasco blow over, and build a nest egg at the same time.
I stood up and began packing my things. I wouldn’t even check out. Let Jennifer’s credit card handle the bill. She wouldn’t need it anymore anyway. After packing my rucksack, I looked around the room to see if I could use anything of Jennifer’s before I left. I dug through her purse, searching for cash. I pulled out her passport, seeing her face inside. I paused. From out of nowhere I thought about my family. Heather and Angie.
I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing them hard with my hands. This isn’t the same. I didn’t ask to be here. I failed Heather by omission. There’s nothing I can do here. Staying was stupid. Trying to do anything about Jennifer was dumber still. All it would do was cause more death, most notably my own. What the hell can I do? I have no money, no equipment, no men, no support, no nothing. The man on the phone has everything.
I opened my eyes and found myself looking into the mirror across the wall, a hollow, empty soul staring back. What the fuck have I become?
I was sickened by my own reflection, ashamed of my previous thoughts. Heather would have left the man in the mirror. I sat still, thinking of my family, then thinking of Jennifer. I had no doubt that she would have tried to help if the roles had been reversed, no matter the risk to herself. The thought caused a wave of disgust at what I had planned. I can’t go back like this. I have to do something. If I die, I die. Better than dying in an IED attack