Page 155 of One Minute Out

Shep and Carl pull rickety aluminum chairs from the kitchenette and drag them ten feet to the living room. Sitting down in front of us, Shep says, “Carl will fly us into the target.”

A.J. says, “In what? A Sopwith Camel?”

I fight a smile. Carl, on the other hand, does not.

“Screw you, kid. I’ve got a Eurocopter AS350 on the ramp at Bakersfield right now. But I can fly anything with wings or rotors, tires, floats, or skids.”

Stu looks the man over now. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here. You were in Nam.”

Carl is obviously the right age. Hell, his skin makes it appear he ate Agent Orange on his breakfast cereal for most of his life.

“Damn right. Two tours flying Huey gunships and transports in Nam and Laos, and then several more years in Air America.”

Air America was an airline set up by the CIA in Southeast Asia to deliver men and equipment in support of covert operations. It employed the best pilots in the world, in extremely dangerous conditions.

Despite Carl’s advanced age, the men are impressed now. Kareem says, “Air America. That was some wild shit.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

Kareem shrugs. “Movies, I guess.”

“You went Agency after that?” Rodney asks.

“None of your goddamned business, meathead.” Carl looks at the men like they are all children, though not one of them is under forty-five.

A.J. says, “That’s badass and all, gramps, but that was then. How long ago did you retire?”

The older man shrugs. “I may be retired, but I ain’t expired. I can deliver you boys on a dime in a hurricane if that’s what it takes.”

Shep speaks up now, looking at his four former teammates across from him. “Carl is solid. Harry is solid. What say you guys?”

It’s quiet a moment, and then suddenly the man called Stu stands and looks not at me, but instead at his former teammates. “Gentlemen, you know I’d walk through fire with you guys. Shit, we’ve done it enough times, right? But I got a kid on the way, and I can’t end up dead or in some prison. Not even a cushy American one. I’m sorry, but my days of running and gunning are behind me.”

The other men stand and shake his hand, slap him on the back, and assure him they understand. Personally, I’m pissed; I need every gun I can get. But I get it. If I had something to live for, I probably wouldn’t be slinging myself around like this, either. I shake his hand, too, and then he leaves without another word.

We all sit back down, and I ask a question that I have to ask, although I know I’m going to get reamed for it.

Looking at Shep, I say, “That going to be a problem? This guy knows our op and he just walks off?”

Shep Duvall shakes his head, and the other three men all grumble at me, angry that I’m unaware what an honorable man I had just been in the presence of. I let it go and so do they.

Rodney next asks, “When are you wanting to do this thing?”

I look to Shep, then say, “Duvall and I will drive down today, get eyes on the location. We’ll get as much intel as possible. We’ll come back in the morning and meet here and work up a plan together. Then, tomorrow night—say midnight—we hit it.”

Kareem says, “Thirty-three hours from now. You ain’t messin’ around, are ya, bro?”

“Every hour we wait...” My voice trails off.

A.J. says, “Yeah. Copy that. If we’d hit that flophouse in Manila an hour earlier... who knows?”

I still don’t want to know what these men saw over there.

Rodney stands up. “I’m in. Not like I’m doing anything else. Killing some kid-fuckers sounds like time well spent.” Both A.J. and Kareem nod along to this.

Shep says, “Okay, Harry. You’ve got yourself a crew.”

“Thanks, guys.”

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