Sniper Elite: One-Way Trip

CHAPTER 36

Steelyard was still asleep in his quarters when he heard a knock at the door. He sat up in bed, glancing at the clock to see that it was only six o’clock in the morning. Expecting it to be the MPs coming to arrest him, he took his time about getting up and getting dressed before answering the door. If they wanted to kick it in, that was up to them. A couple of minutes later he opened the door to find Captain Metcalf standing on the steel staircase with a slightly disconcerted look.

“I can’t remember the last time anybody kept me waiting that fucking long to answer a goddamn door.”

Steelyard stepped back to let him inside. “That’s because everybody’s been kissing your ass for the last ten goddamn years.” He shut the door after his old friend and turned to shake his hand. “It was nice of them to send you instead of the MPs. How soon will I be stateside?”

Metcalf sat down in a government-issued folding chair near the window. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, motioning Steelyard into the other chair. “At least not yet. They’re playing politics back in DC. Believe it or not, Bob Pope’s in charge of your disciplinary action.”

Steelyard bridled. “Pope’s a fucking civilian. On top of that, he’s a fucking nut!”

Metcalf sat looking at him. “You’ve never even met the son of a bitch.”

“I don’t need to.”

Metcalf blew him off with a wave of his hand. “Your bitching isn’t going to change anything. This is the president’s way of keeping you and Crosswhite on ice until Sandra is recovered one way or another. If all goes well, you can expect the White House to take credit for Bank Heist.”

“Of course they’ll take credit for Bank Heist,” Steelyard remarked. “Hell, they’ll probably put the entire team on David Letterman. Expose the op the same way they did after the Bin Laden hit. Turn us all into fucking celebrities.”

Metcalf cocked an eyebrow. “It wasn’t quite that bad, Hal. What’ll be more likely to happen in that event is that you and Crosswhite will be swept under the rug — which is exactly what you’d better hope for, because if Sandra ends up dead, you’re both gonna get the cross.”

“That’s already been decided?”

Metcalf rocked back in the chair, letting out a sigh. “That’s right. You’ve been sleeping. You haven’t heard yet.”

Steelyard cocked an eyebrow. “Heard what?”

“Sandra’s rape is all over the fucking internet. It’s fast becoming a political nightmare for the president.”

Steelyard shook his head. “Well, we knew it would.”

“To make matters worse,” Metcalf went on, “she’s not in the hands of the Taliban anymore. The HIK has her now, and they aren’t making any stupid ransom demands. They know her value as a propaganda tool, and it looks like that’s how they plan to use her. America can’t protect its women. Look how weak they are. All that shit.”

Steelyard stood and went to the refrigerator. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? We can’t protect her.” He took a bottle of milk from the fridge and sat back down. “Is she still in Bazarak?”

“We think so, but it’s an HIK stronghold. We can’t move against the village without them killing her.”

“Have they made that specific threat yet?”

“They don’t need to,” Metcalf said. “It’s common sense. This is the Iran hostage crisis in miniature. The HIK’s going to make Bazarak famous over the coming months. They’ve been moving men into the Panjshir Valley since we stopped patrolling it six months ago. Nothing’s been done about it because President Karzai doesn’t want trouble with the Hezb-e Islami factions. They’re too strong in the parliament now.”

Steelyard drank from the bottle of milk and offered it to Metcalf, who leaned forward to take it. “Those kill-crazy bastards will never give that woman back alive,” he said. “They’ll use her to humiliate the country for as long as they can, and when it looks like we’re finally going to attack, they’ll dump her headless body on some fucking street in Kabul.”

Metcalf wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Regardless, this is going to be handled at the diplomatic level. It’s been decided.”

“Does the president understand these sons of bitches don’t know the first fucking thing about diplomacy? That they aren’t looking for a fucking bargain? All they want is chaos.”

“What the president understands is that he’s only eleven months away from the election,” Metcalf said. “He also understands that a crisis like this could easily extend as many months if it’s not handled properly.”

“Well, he’d better count on it extending at least that long unless we go in there and bring that woman out. They’ll use her to make him look like a chump — just like the Iranians did to Carter. And then, a week before the election, they’ll dump her body in the street.”

“Hal, we don’t know that.”

“No, not yet,” Steelyard conceded. “But you can bet your last dollar the HIK’s going to be thinking long and hard about who they want for president between now and November.”

“Well, whatever we think we know doesn’t matter,” Metcalf said. “I just came over here to get you dialed in on what Pope expects from you.”

“Which is?”

Metcalf couldn’t help the grin that came to his face. “He said for me to tell you and Crosswhite to try and stay out of trouble.”

“That’s it?” Steelyard asked, suddenly wary. “ ‘Try and stay out of trouble’?”

“Word has it that the Joint Chiefs want him out of SOG,” Metcalf went on. “My conversation with General Couture was too short for me to get any details — and there was no way for me to ask without creating suspicion — but I think they suspect that Pope knew about Bank Heist and kept it to himself.”

“Did he?”

Metcalf smiled crookedly. “How the hell would I know? I just work here.”