president Mustafa Kemal Atatürk started to transform Turkey into a modern, secular state. Now, it seemed to Crocker that the current prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdo ğ an, who was an Islamist, was trying to take it backward, arresting journalists, banning YouTube and Twitter, and dissolving the long-standing separation between religion and the state.
Akil, seeing the faraway look in Crocker’s eyes, asked, “You okay with the shit that went down this morning?”
“Not really,” Crocker answered, “but what am I gonna do, cry?”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“I hear he was a good guy.”
“Jared? Yeah. Good sense of humor and a big fire in his belly. You would have liked him.”
“He tell you much?”
“About what?”
“The sarin. The hottie in the suit. The op.”
“Nah. Never got around to that.”
Akil raised his bottle of Turkish beer. “Here’s to the kid.”
“Jared.”
“Here’s hoping he’s in a better place.”
“Yeah.”
Back in their room, Crocker had a message from the desk clerk informing him that his friends had arrived and were staying in 321. He called and invited them up, then dialed Holly, who didn’t answer.
He left a message on her cell phone. “I’m safe. Will call again soon. Love to you and Jenny.”
As he looked out the window at the minarets in the distance and listened to the muezzin call evening prayer, he wondered if Dr. Mathews would consider him selfish for taking the mission.
A voice in his head said, How can I be selfish when I’m doing this to protect people?
That didn’t change the problems they were having in their marriage, or the faraway look in Holly’s eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye.
The awkward doubts disappeared the moment Mancini walked in, sporting a foot-long beard and hair that curled over his ears. The energy he brought with him was palpable.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Crocker asked.
“Life,” the linebacker-sized SEAL responded through a gap-toothed smile. “I grew some hair. How’s your leg?”
The cartel assassins who had bombed Crocker’s house had shot him in the thigh before he took them out.
“Still barks some, but it works.”
The two men embraced for the first time in three months. Crocker noticed that Mancini had a new tattoo on his forearm. It was a heart with his brother’s face in it and the words
“
In Memoriam Amantem
”
(in loving memory).
He felt something tighten in his chest.
Behind Mancini (who was the weapons, logistics, and tech expert on the team) followed Suarez (explosives) and Davis (comms). The last time Crocker saw Davis he’d been lying in a hospital in Guadalajara recovering from a bullet wound that had shattered his collarbone. He looked fit, tan, and healthy now.
“Glad to see you’re back,” Crocker said, squeezing his hand. “Been working out?”
“Yeah, boss, I’ve become a CrossFit fanatic. I missed you guys….”
It meant a lot coming from a man of few words.
“How’s the family?”
Light-haired Davis had a matching blond wife and two young sons. Looked like a family out of a J. Crew catalog, except that the dad was an adrenaline junkie, conspiracy theorist, and secret New Age follower who believed in aliens and communicating with the dead. He was convinced, for example, that Hitler and the Nazis had made contact with aliens.
“Good. All good.”
“Anybody hear from Cal?” Cal was the sniper and sixth member of Black Cell.
Mancini, who had clicked on the TV and was surfing through the channels with the sound muted, nodded.
“He wanted to come, but Doc wouldn’t clear him. Even though he bitched to Sutter, he wouldn’t sign off.” Captain Sutter was the commander of SEAL Team Six and their boss.
Suarez, who was the newest member of the team, handed Crocker a white envelope. “Your wife asked Sutter to give you this.”
“Thanks and welcome. Your family good?”
“Healthy and relatively happy, boss. Praise be
Akil, seeing the faraway look in Crocker’s eyes, asked, “You okay with the shit that went down this morning?”
“Not really,” Crocker answered, “but what am I gonna do, cry?”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“I hear he was a good guy.”
“Jared? Yeah. Good sense of humor and a big fire in his belly. You would have liked him.”
“He tell you much?”
“About what?”
“The sarin. The hottie in the suit. The op.”
“Nah. Never got around to that.”
Akil raised his bottle of Turkish beer. “Here’s to the kid.”
“Jared.”
“Here’s hoping he’s in a better place.”
“Yeah.”
Back in their room, Crocker had a message from the desk clerk informing him that his friends had arrived and were staying in 321. He called and invited them up, then dialed Holly, who didn’t answer.
He left a message on her cell phone. “I’m safe. Will call again soon. Love to you and Jenny.”
As he looked out the window at the minarets in the distance and listened to the muezzin call evening prayer, he wondered if Dr. Mathews would consider him selfish for taking the mission.
A voice in his head said, How can I be selfish when I’m doing this to protect people?
That didn’t change the problems they were having in their marriage, or the faraway look in Holly’s eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye.
The awkward doubts disappeared the moment Mancini walked in, sporting a foot-long beard and hair that curled over his ears. The energy he brought with him was palpable.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Crocker asked.
“Life,” the linebacker-sized SEAL responded through a gap-toothed smile. “I grew some hair. How’s your leg?”
The cartel assassins who had bombed Crocker’s house had shot him in the thigh before he took them out.
“Still barks some, but it works.”
The two men embraced for the first time in three months. Crocker noticed that Mancini had a new tattoo on his forearm. It was a heart with his brother’s face in it and the words
“
In Memoriam Amantem
”
(in loving memory).
He felt something tighten in his chest.
Behind Mancini (who was the weapons, logistics, and tech expert on the team) followed Suarez (explosives) and Davis (comms). The last time Crocker saw Davis he’d been lying in a hospital in Guadalajara recovering from a bullet wound that had shattered his collarbone. He looked fit, tan, and healthy now.
“Glad to see you’re back,” Crocker said, squeezing his hand. “Been working out?”
“Yeah, boss, I’ve become a CrossFit fanatic. I missed you guys….”
It meant a lot coming from a man of few words.
“How’s the family?”
Light-haired Davis had a matching blond wife and two young sons. Looked like a family out of a J. Crew catalog, except that the dad was an adrenaline junkie, conspiracy theorist, and secret New Age follower who believed in aliens and communicating with the dead. He was convinced, for example, that Hitler and the Nazis had made contact with aliens.
“Good. All good.”
“Anybody hear from Cal?” Cal was the sniper and sixth member of Black Cell.
Mancini, who had clicked on the TV and was surfing through the channels with the sound muted, nodded.
“He wanted to come, but Doc wouldn’t clear him. Even though he bitched to Sutter, he wouldn’t sign off.” Captain Sutter was the commander of SEAL Team Six and their boss.
Suarez, who was the newest member of the team, handed Crocker a white envelope. “Your wife asked Sutter to give you this.”
“Thanks and welcome. Your family good?”
“Healthy and relatively happy, boss. Praise be
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