He went straight to sleep, and dreamed that he was a kid again in his own bed, sick and hot but feeling safe, his mother smiling, coming in with French toast and hot milk. ‘There’s a nuke headed for New York, Mom,’ he said. ‘We gotta stop it.’ She put a finger to her lips, still smiling. ‘Hush now. Eat.’
When they landed at Spartacus it was night. He offered to help unload the casualties, but Ableson hustled him away. After the camp outside Tehran, Spartacus felt like a giant military city teeming with personnel and kit. A place that a week ago had been almost like home was a hostile environment now.
‘I need to get cleaned up,’ he said to Ableson.
‘Later: they’re waiting for you. Need something to eat?’
Blackburn instinctively turned towards the canteen but Abelson steered him away.
‘I’ll bring you something.’
He escorted Blackburn to an unmarked Portakabin.
Somehow he needed to get the message across about Solomon.
Inside, waiting for him: Dershowitz and Andrews. Blackburn’s heart couldn’t sink much further but it managed a few more inches. Dershowitz was peering at his laptop and Andrews had a cell phone pressed to his ear. They were as he had left them, as if they had been waiting there for him the whole time, waiting to take him down. His own private apocalypse.
60
FOB Spartacus, Iraqi Kurdistan
Dershowitz glanced up at him and frowned.
‘You look like you need to clean up a little, kid.’
‘I was told to come straight here. And if it’s all the same to you, Sir, could you refer to me by name? I’m Sergeant Blackburn.’
‘Sure, kid,’ he smirked.
Andrews pocketed his cell.
‘Okay. So talk us through your day.’
‘Bad day at Black Rock, huh?’ said Dershowitz.
‘What?’
Blackburn wasn’t sure what that was a reference to, but it wasn’t good.
‘And if it’s all the same to you, kid, you can call me Sir, when you answer.’ Dershowitz slammed the table hard with the flat of his hand as he said ‘Sir’.
‘Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.’
Andrews looked as though he was suppressing a bad case of wind.
‘Just go from the top.’
He described the scene when he got out of the Osprey, climbing the avalanche of rubble from the shelled chalet and finding the door that led into the rear bunker.
‘Whoa. Hold up,’ said Andrews, making a stop sign with his hand. ‘Need to get a handle on your motivations. You took yourself off pretty fast into that wrecked building. That not a little reckless?’
He looked down and began typing furiously.
‘The conditions were such that it appeared the building might have contained an HVT and was liable to cave in.’
‘So in you went.’ Andrews with his smile again. ‘And was anybody home?’
They wanted detail. He gave it to them.
‘Sir, there were three fatalities. All recently deceased. One on the first floor of the house and two in the bunker, one of whom was in the pool, the other at the side. I concluded they had been struck by falling masonry during the bombardment.’
Dershowitz spoke without looking up.
‘So now you’re a pathologist. Lot of strings to your bow, Blackburn.’
‘Let’s talk about Lieutenant Cole. What happened?’ asked Andrews.
He looked from one to the other.
‘It’s a simple question.’
He decided to focus on Dershowitz, the more aggressive of the two. These men listened to liars for a living. Simple question. Simple answer.
‘I don’t know what happened to him, Sir. There was a further collapse. I figured my best chance was to find the escape passage I had seen on the plans.’
Dershowitz smiled. Blackburn didn’t know which was worse, his smile or his stony silence. The smile with the silence wasn’t much fun either.
Ableson knocked and entered without waiting. He was carrying a Coke and a burger wrapped in waxed paper.
‘Get the fuck out. Can’t you see we’re busy here?’
Blackburn almost felt relieved that he wasn’t the only focus of Dershowitz’s ire.
‘Tell me about Cole.’
‘What about him, Sir?’
Dershowitz frowned.
‘What’s that supposed to mean, “What about him”? He’s your CO for fuck’s sake. Don’t you give a shit?’
He picked up a waste bin and swept the Coke and burger into it.
Blackburn could feel the anger exploding inside him. He refused to give them the satisfaction of showing it. He had to stay in control. His head was pulsing with pain. He was by nature a truth teller. His mother always praised him for this, regardless of the misdemeanour. ‘Well, Henry, I’m not pleased with what you’ve done but it’s good that you have owned up.’
‘Your buddy Campo says he lost radio contact with you after you entered the bunker. He says he reported it to your commanding officer and that he, Lieutenant Cole, bravely decided to attempt to rescue you.’