Minutes to Burn by Gregg Hurwitz Page B

look-ing after you. I was assured they were the best.”
    A loud single knock hit the door, and Donald rose to his feet. He opened the door to reveal Savage, standing slightly crooked in one boot and one torn sock. Beside him, Tucker jiggled his hand back and forth, watching it closely.
    “Hello,” Donald began. “I’m—”
    Savage knocked Donald’s shoulder as he passed him. Tank followed Tucker into the room, banging his head on the door frame. Derek emerged from the rear, holding out his hand to Donald. “Derek Mitchell. I’m the OIC of this platoon.”
    Donald took his hand with some hesitation. “OIC?”
    “Officer in Charge.”
    Szabla curled her arm across her chest, rotating her fist so the ball of her biceps slid back and forth. Donald turned slowly to face Rex, who remained blank-faced, leaning back so the chair cocked under his weight.
    “Well,” Rex said, staring at the ceiling. “Let the games begin.”
    After the introductions were made, the squad gathered around the conference table. Derek sat at the far end beside Rex and Donald, facing the soldiers. Cameron was relieved to see that he looked more steady than before, more professional.
    Rex studied Derek, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Sure we don’t need more men?”
    “Two of us are women,” Szabla said. “And, in keeping with the finest naval tradition, prefer to be referred to as either broads or dames.”
    Rex laughed, but Derek shot her a stern look. Donald rose, folding his hands across his generous belly. “Now, I’ve already gone over the itinerary with Lieutenant Mako.”
    “I’m up to speed,” Derek said. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to brief the others before we lift out tonight.”
    “Good,” Rex said. “Because it’s bad enough there’s going to be seven of you. But I certainly can’t get through an expedition of this importance—”
    “Of this importance,” Szabla repeated.
    Rex stared at her. “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means that with the current state of affairs, I don’t think a scien-tific outing is of the utmost—”
    “I’m handling this, Szabla,” Derek said.
    “—importance that we need to dispatch top-notch soldiers—”
    “Szabla,” Derek said, his voice raised in warning, “Which part of ‘I’m handling this’ did you not understand?”
    “I think ‘handling,’ LT. She has trouble with gerunds,” Justin said, turning a sweet smile to Szabla before she backhanded him. He caught her hand at the wrist inches from his nose.
    Cameron almost told Justin and Szabla to shut up but restrained her-self, not wanting to undermine Derek. She placed her hands between her knees, pressing them together.
    “Top-notch?” Rex asked rhetorically. Savage dug his fingernail beneath a small scab on the back of his neck and scraped it off, examin-ing it before flicking it onto the floor. He ran his hand across the sore, then wiped the blood on his pants.
    “Rex,” Donald said softly, his voice tense. “I don’t think—”
    Derek stood up and leaned over the table, facing his charges. “Let’s get one thing straight. We are escorting Dr. Williams because that’s our mission.” He turned to Rex, who gazed up at him from his chair, seem-ingly awed by his considerable size. “But you don’t have to make things more difficult than they need be.”
    “I’m merely taking issue with the choice of ‘top-notch’ as an adjective.” Rex pointed at Savage. “That guy looks like he crawled out of a sewer.”
    Savage waved. He went back to relacing his boot, which was resting on the table.
    “The only thing that matters,” Cameron said, “is the mission objec-tive.”
    “Who brought the girl scout?”
    “Szabla,” Derek said. “I’m not fucking around here.”
    Donald removed his small spectacles and polished them nervously. “I’d like to...if it’s okay,I’d like todiscuss—”
    Rex bounced forward in his chair. “We’re flying into Guayaquil, need to stop there