Page 45 of To Die For

“Well, like the song says, you can’t always get what you want.”

“That doesnotapply to Mr. Glass.”

“Sure it does. And why does he want to meet with me?”

“He mentioned something about Operation Ashura? You know what he meant by that?”

This remark gave Devine pause. He said, “I do.”

“So you’ll come?” said Hastings politely, although his severe expression did not match his tone. Devine could tell he was hankering for a fight, which the man would lose unless he had about a half dozen other armed foot soldiers lurking around. And Hastings might, if he was smart.

“Yes, but I’ll get there on my own.”

“I have a vehicle right here.” He pointed to a black SUV with heavily tinted windows that looked just like the one that Devine hadseen sliding into view back in Virginia. But there were lots of tinted-glass black SUVs and lots of dangerous people who rode in them.

“Then enjoy your ride in it. I’ll be at the hotel in twenty minutes.”

A clearly frustrated Hastings walked off and climbed into the SUV, and it drove away while Devine ordered up a ride on his phone app. And he now knew that Danny Glasshadremembered Devine from their combat days in the Middle East. That was the first and only time the two soldiers’ paths had crossed.

Operation Ashura had been led by Iraqi forces along with Shia militia supported by Iran to take back the town of Jurf al-Sakhar in Iraq, which was strategically located near Baghdad. America was not supposed to have any troops on the ground in this particular conflict, but then three platoons of American soldiers had been included in the assault to make sure that it was successful. They were also tasked with coordinating U.S. air strikes on the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, also known as ISIL. It was hard fought on both sides, and the combat momentum had swung back and forth. However, eventually they had succeeded in retaking Jurf al-Sakhar and driven out ISIL. This also had allowed millions of Shias safe passage to undertake a pilgrimage to Karbala and Anajaf for fasting and prayers to commemorate the Day of Ashura.

Devine and Danny Glass had been components of different military elements sent in for the battle. The then Lieutenant Devine had commanded one of the platoons. He and his men had been caught in a chaotic crossfire, ultimately finding their retreat cut off by over two hundred hardened ISIL fighters who charged forward to slaughter the far smaller American force. They were also supported by RPGs, one heavy machine gun, and two light machine guns, and things were looking dicey. And Devine knew that if ISIL captured them, they would parade them on social media and broadcast to the world that American soldiers were part of the assault on Iraqi soil when they were only supposed to be there in support occupations. And then he and his surviving men would have probably been beheaded for all the world to see.

The optics would have been awful. But that day Devine had been far more worried about the lives of his men than any political fallout.

A wounded Danny Glass had been truly heroic, saving the lives of a slew of his fellow soldiers, at great risk to himself. And it was due in large part to Glass’s efforts that Devine and his men had been able to hang on until reinforcements arrived.

Devine had written a commendation letter for him, which had been awarded, so his connection to Glass was part of official Army records.

He wondered, and not for the first time, whether he had been selected for this mission because of that tie.

But why would that matter? Glass was the enemy here. Wasn’t he?

He arrived at the Four Seasons and was met in the lobby by Hastings.

“Mr. Glass is in the presidential suite,” said Hastings.

“Of course he is,” replied Devine.

They rode the elevator up. Stationed outside the presidential suite were two scarred cartel gunner types who looked like they had never laughed in their entire lives. And both seemed like they would be delighted to bang a round into Devine’s skull, no charge.

Hastings knocked and the door was opened by another man who looked just like the two at the door, only meaner. Devine and Hastings were escorted into a large living area off the foyer that had sweeping views of the bay through two walls of windows, and a large-screen TV on another wall, with a gas fireplace below. The glow of the bluish-red flames warmed the space. There Glass sat, dressed in dark slacks and a light blue cashmere sweater, looking lean, engaged, and…happy, thought Devine. For a man under indictment for crimes that could send him to prison for life, Glass didn’t seem to have a care in the world, Devine thought for a second time. And again, he wondered why.

Glass rose from his chair and extended his hand to Devine.

“Forgive me for not acknowledging you when you brought Betsy to me. I was pretty damn sure it was you, but then I thought you were still in the Army and convinced myself it couldn’t be Lieutenant Travis Devine.”

“It’s justTravisDevine now, Mr. Glass. And I mustered out as a captain.”

“Make it Danny. I’ve never been much of a mister.”

“Okay,Danny.”

Glass indicated a chair and they sat across from one another. Devine noted that Hastings and the other side of armed beef had disappeared from view, but he doubted they had gone far.

“So, you’re a federal agent now?” said Glass.

“Something like that. And you?”

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