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“So what happened?” She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Let him tell his story. He was great with details.
He drew in a long, shaky breath.
Wow. Whatever happened still affected him. She wished he had sat next to her. Wished she was brave enough to reach across the distance and pull him closer.
“During an intel brief before our assignment, we learned that vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices had been used to attack a nearby hotel.”
“In the unsecured zone?”
“Yep. There had been more attacks, and the area was increasingly volatile.”
“Couldn’t you just say no?”
“Not to these particular individuals. But the news meant our usual routes were impacted. And we had to move around the areas of recent explosions.”
“And US motorcades were probably targets.”
“Always. Or at least prime targets.”
“I mean ... by the locals?”
“Yes, especially during periods of unrest. We were on the move, but some of our planned routes had been shut down. I radioed the TOC—tactical operations center—for an update. Some of the other teams had to return without completing their missions.”
“And they wanted you back?”
“Our mission was deemed critical, and we were required to complete it. We drove quickly through the streets in our four-vehicle motorcade. I already mentioned the lineup. The last vehicle held the shooters. Machine guns and sniper rifles.”
He looked at her as though deciding if he would continue and how much to share and how much to hold back, then hung his head.
“We kept changing our route, but finally, we had to stop at a checkpoint. We slowed to a complete halt. Something we never wanted to do in a motorcade carrying a high-profile asset. Jacobs, the TC—tactical commander—got out to go talk to them and the situation escalated.”
Mackenzie imagined she could see the weight on his shoulders. She wasn’t sure if he would lift his head again, and her breath hitched. She knew his next words would reveal a mission gone wrong.
“Everything that happened next replays in my mind over and over.”
She so got that. She was guilty of that kind of mental torture, but now wasn’t the time to speak. She needed to listen. Apparently, he needed to tell her.
“It’s like it all happened at the same instant, but in slow motion.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to relive this over and over.”
And I’m making you...
“It was an ambush. Jacobs was gunned down. A massive explosion rocked the Suburban in front of me. The blast destroyed the engine and set the vehicle on fire. The cab maintained integrity and protected the passengers from the blast, but they still had to escape the fire. Then a machine gun from an approaching vehicle started in, trapping them. We were trained to protect, but that protection starts with not getting into these situations. I radioed for the HIRRT—the US embassy’s Helicopter Insertion Rapid Response Team.
“I tried to save them. I tried ... but team members held me back, thinking I would only die too. In the end, two of our guys died. Two of our guys plus . . . our protectee. The mission was a failure all around. I lost people. I lost Jacobs. He was a friend. He had a wife and a kid.”
He pressed his face into his hands.
