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“Hey, Doc, would you mind keeping this between us until I have time to brief Alegria.”
“Say no more.”
“Thanks.”
Dutch had to figure out a way to tell Alegria not just about the mission, but who he was going in to extract.
He went into the kitchen to grab something to eat, regretting that his time at the house he was rarely at, was coming to such an abrupt end after such a short visit.
He’d purchased and renovated it back when he was stationed at Langley. Originally, he’d intended to flip it, but once he finished the updates, he decided not to.
It had always been easy to rent given its close proximity to the base. Luckily, the last tenant had PCS’d right before Thanksgiving, and Dutch hadn’t relisted it.
When they were getting ready to leave Cambria after Thanksgiving, Dutch asked Alegria what she thought about going to Newport News with him when she was cleared for travel.
“If I could get home, I wouldn’t be such a burden to you.”
“Meaning where? New York?” As far as he knew, she hadn’t set foot in the apartment her parents had purchased for her in more than a year, maybe longer.
“Marseille,” she’d responded as though he were an idiot.
“Manon…we need to talk,” he said when she walked into the kitchen.
That got her attention. He rarely called her by anything but her Air Force pilot call sign.
“About?”
“There’s a mission…”
Her eyes met his, and whatever anger she’d been feeling moments ago seemed to morph into worry. “What is it?”
—:—
Mantis was almost to Mogadishu when he saw the roadblock. Two decrepit-looking pickup trucks, both mounted with heavy, ancient artillery, were waiting.
A dozen men jumped off of each and swarmed his Jeep, firing into the air all around him. They pulled him out, hit him over the head, and dragged him to one of their vehicles. There was blood seeping from a gash in his scalp, which his captors chose to ignore.
He spoke enough Arabic to understand they were taking him north and inland to Cadaado, the opposite direction of Mogadishu and Dinlave, where Striker was waiting.
Near sundown they arrived at their destination. Even after the sun had set, it was still at least one hundred degrees.
Mantis was blindfolded and led to a foam mattress. He could hear several Somalis yelling and what sounded like other hostages being beaten.
Merry Christmas, he thought to himself. Welcome to hell.
—:—
Before he’d even told her about the mission, Alegria had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. At first she thought it was not knowing whether Mantis would show up for Christmas like he had for Thanksgiving. This felt worse, though, as if something was terribly wrong.
“When do you leave?” she asked, knowing it had to be soon.
“Tonight. Look, I know it’s almost Christmas, and I’m sorry—”
She held up her hand. “Don’t be. I understand.”
“I wasn’t sure you would.”
“What do you mean?”
