Page 102 of Out of Control

Drago started to laugh, but it devolved into a wry groan of pain. “When I saw all those rifles pointed at me, all I could think was that I didn’t want to die in a world without you in it.”

“It was crazy of you to call out that warning to me, Dray.”

“It would have been crazier not to. I couldn’t let you charge into an ambush. They were using me as bait to draw you out. No way was I going to let you do something stupid and heroic like sacrifice yourself for me. Which I knew you would try.” He added, “Speaking of which, what was up with revealing your position when you blew up the hut? You know better than to pull an amateur stunt like that.”

“I meant to draw their attention to me so you could get down without being shot or blown up. I knew blasting the hut would create enough chaos for you to slip away. And it did.”

“Yeah, and it landed all of Hamza’s men on top of you. Had your guys not shown up when they did, you’d have been swiss cheese.”

“Yes, but you’d have been alive.”

“Spencer. Please, for the love of God, don’t ever try to sacrifice yourself for me again. I couldn’t live with it if you died, let alone died for me.”

Spencer reached up and laid a filthy hand on his face. The warmth of his callused palm soaked all the way to Drago’s soul. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“We’re agreed, then. No throwing ourselves on our swords for each other.”

“As long as you promise to throw yourself on my sword and let me throw myself on yours,” Spencer sighed.

Drago threw his head back and laughed. They’d made it. They were both alive. Come what might ahead of them, they had time to figure it out.

Chapter Twenty

SPENCER TUGGEDat his heavily starched uniform and nodded at Charles Favian, who opened the door for him. Drago was already seated inside at a conference table along with a half-dozen stern-looking senior officials from both the CIA and the Defense Department. An admiral sat at the far end of the table, in fact. Cripes. The chief of naval operations himself.

The gray-haired dude from the in-briefing that started this whole fiasco said, “Have a seat, Lieutenant Newman.”

Leaning on his cane a little more heavily than his healing hip required, he milked the moment to hobble down the table to sit beside Drago in the only empty chair. Might as well make the point that he and Drago had nearly died taking out Jabril Hamza.

Gray Hair said, “This is an informal debriefing. No transcripts or recordings are being made of this session. You will not be put under oath, but it is assumed you will tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“So help me God,” he responded dryly.

“We have reviewed your written statement, along with Mr. Thorpe’s, and we find them to be in agreement in all the important particulars.”

He refrained from mutteringduh, but not by much.

“It is the finding of this working group that both you and Mr. Thorpe acted outside the boundaries of the law and without the permission of your superiors in pursuing the termination of Jabril Hamza and several of his compatriots.”

“Is that what we’re calling terrorist cells these days? Compatriots?” he snapped.

The admiral raised his hand for silence. “Lieutenant Newman, it has escaped nobody’s notice that two of you took down perhaps the most wanted terrorist on the planet.”

“We had critical help from SEAL Team Ten,” Spencer said quickly.

“That, too, has been duly noted. Appropriate citations and silent medals have been put into all the SEALs’ permanent records.”

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said, subsiding. He didn’t particularly care what happened to himself as long as his guys didn’t get thrown under the bus for coming to the rescue when he’d needed help. After all, it was what family did.

Gray Hair picked up the conversation. “It is also the finding of this working group that the two of you have done a great service for our nation, indeed, the world, in eliminating Jabril Hamza from the face of the earth. Not to mention Fayez Khoury’s laptops are yielding a bonanza of information about other terror cells and terrorist funding and banking activities in various countries.”

Spencer spared a questioning glance for Drago. Did he have any idea where this was going? Dray shot him a faint, fast head shake in response. He was as in the dark as Spencer.

“Therefore,” Gray Hair continued, “we have arrived at a unanimous consensus that no charges will be filed against you or Mr. Thorpe. However, because you both disobeyed direct orders and disobeyed too many regulations to bother listing, your employment with your respective units—the CIA and the United States Navy—is hereby terminated.”

The words fell heavy on his chest, like hammers. So. That was it. His career was over.

“In light of the serious injuries suffered by both of you in the course of apprehending and killing Hamza and his cell, we have decided that you will both be retired with full benefits from your government service. You will receive an honorable discharge, Lieutenant Newman, and you will be retired without prejudice, Mr. Thorpe.”

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