Before long, we pulled up to division headquarters, home to Lieutenant General Chase Montgomery. The division HQ was housed in one of Saddam Hussein’s former palaces, a structure that loomed at least four stories high and must have been as wide as a football field. The military had commandeered it right after the US invasion of Iraq; when Saddam went underground, the good guys moved in.
As we drove by at a glacial three miles per hour, I craned my neck to look out the window at the palace. Huge pillars supported a peaked dormer over the entrance, while atop the roof rose a magnificent dome reminiscent of the US Capitol. All statues of the former owner had been removed, though plenty of Babylonian figures remained perched on stone foundations, standing watch over the grounds.
A crowd had gathered—thankfully, not a reporter among them. I noticed that it was almost 8 p.m. and the blazing sun had nearly set. I immediately started to feel sleepy.
Hungryandtired—fuck my timing.
The Suburban rolled to a gentle stop. Sergeant Carnes popped out and rushed around to open my door.
“Good luck, sir. We’ll be here till you’re done.”
I handed business cards to both Sergeants Hilton and Carnes and told them to give me a call when they got back home. Poaching Chris Miller’s guys was sort of breaking the rules, but it was the least I could do for them.
“Don’t tell Miller I gave you two my card. He’ll kick all our asses. Thanks for the ride.”
And off I went to meet my fate.
* * *
The first person I spotted was Jed O’Reilly. He was CSTC’s chief legal adviser in-country and always had his act straight. It was good to spy a friendly face among the crowd of unknowns. Tristan Dent had lured him away from a pretty fat private practice in DC to work as our consigliere—The Godfather’s Tom Hagen in the flesh.
Jed shook my hand and pulled me aside. “Glad to see you in one piece, partner. Good job out there. I know it was legit. You did the right thing.”
Jed’s reassuring posture made me feel better.
“Thanks, Jed. Don’t think we had a choice. Oliver, Meg, and JP were on their game today, that’s for sure. No shit, they did great. Anything from the prisoner?”
“Nothing that anyone is telling me here. Everyone is holding their cards close on this one. Fuck ’em, though. I’ll be in there with you the whole time.”
A one-star general walked over and gestured for us to follow him toward the massive palace doors.
As much as the daily scenes of poverty had numbed my senses, the excess I saw here threw my barometer way off thecharts. No kidding, a chandelier hanging from the distant, fifty-foot-high ceiling sparkled with what must have been ten thousand crystals. I couldn’t help staring at the spectacle of lights like it was Disney World.
As the general turned to speak to me, I spotted my two junior VIPs, William McKay and Travis Hunter, standing against the wall with a group of their colleagues. They were both sipping coffee and looking surprisingly refreshed. Hell, I think they may even have showered.
We locked eyes and Hunter, without smiling or otherwise changing his poker face, gave me a faint wink. I couldn’t tell from his expression if it was a sign of caution or comfort, but I smiled and followed the general.
The one-star read us a page from the legal playbook. I was to go in one room as investigators interviewed the rest of my team individually in other rooms.
I was about to say something about my team’s right to legal counsel, but a slight bump in the small of my back from Jed’s hand persuaded me to let it go. I guess he had a plan in mind.
I walked off with Jed and the general. We headed down one of the mammoth corridors toward Montgomery’s office. I could feel my mouth getting drier by the second, and of course my stomach was still growling. I wondered if the others could hear it.
CHAPTER 20
Office of Lieutenant General Chase Montgomery
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” came a deep voice.
I hadn’t immediately noticed the silhouette of the three-star general when I crossed the threshold into his inner sanctum. Lieutenant General Chase Montgomery waved a hand around at the palace room’s ostentatious touches. “Actually, it’s pretty much an embarrassment. Every day I’m here, it reminds me why we needed to come to Iraq. This had to be stopped,” he said with a somewhat cordial voice.
“Yes, sir—I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Chase Montgomery, please, Mr. Phillips,” the commander of all forces in Iraq said, throwing me off with his rank-less introduction. He gestured the three of us toward the center of the cavern, to some overstuffed chairs arranged on top of a Persian rug that must have cost a mint. In addition to Jed and myself, a handful of other civilians had gathered in the general’s office, including Congressman Martin Jennings.
Jennings strode across the room, hand outstretched. This was the second time in the past thirty seconds that I’d been thrown off guard. The congressman grabbed my hand and shook it before I could say anything.
“Please, please sit down,” he said, then quickly turned back to Montgomery as if to apologize for usurping the general’s authority.
