Bruce took one last look in his notebook. “We have ten pickups in the motor pool, all of which have trackers, GPS’s, radios, and they will blend in easily with the local’s vehicles.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, last time I checked supply, we had plenty of haji clothes, hats, scarves, man dresses, we got it all. We also have body armor, helmets, radios, and everything else you think we’ll need.”

“And the helicopters?”

“We just got a couple of new ones last week. The pilots are a little antsy. They heard what happened to the other two helicopters. They don’t have a strong desire to get shot down, disappeared, or whatever. Can’t say that I do either if I’m inside one of them.”

Mike shook his head. “You can tell them not to get their panties in a bunch they won’t be flying anywhere near the Tal Bez Valley.”

“I’ll let them know,” Al said, grinning.

“All right then.” Mike stood up from the briefing table. “I guess that’s it then.”

Bruce stood. “I’m going to head down and open the armory.

Al stood, too. “I’ll tag along.”

As they walked out the door, Mike walked to the whiteboard and stood in front of the detailed map devoted to the Tal Bez Valley. He hadn’t had time to think about it, but now that they were almost ready, he looked at the south entrance, putting a finger on the road leading into the open ground of the valley beyond. He leaned in his eyes on where he found Paul’s body. He pulled back and traced the road up the center of the valley to the fake Afghan camp. His finger continued to the north until it reached the tunnel mouth. The tip of his finger left the road and moved southeast toward the low ground where a small patch of bamboo had stood. Five Afghans had been at the bottom of that low ground. Three had escaped. And his brother flew out in a bag. His finger curled, becoming a fist resting on the map.

“Well, what do you think, boss?”

He blinked, took a deep breath, and pushed off with his fist. “What’s that?”

“Are we,“ Tom said, “going to have some fun or what?”

“You know we are.”

“Good.” Tom sat up. “Now that we’re here I’m good and ready for a little pay back not just for Paul, but everyone else we know who didn’t come back.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Julia didn’t see the slightest hint of jest on Tom’s face. “The is supposed to be a recon mission only we’re not here to engage anyone in combat.”

Tom exhaled sharply through his teeth. “That’s the problem, plan for the worst and hope for the best, but no matter what, things don’t always go as expected. We’ve planned for a bunch of contingencies, but it’s the things we don’t plan for, the things that we couldn’t have even guessed as possible, that we have to be ready for. So what you want and what’s going to happen may be two completely different things.”

“Come on, that’s everywhere.”

“Yes, but it’s the degree to which it impacts your life that it changes. You’re back in your office and spill coffee on your computer. You lose some data, maybe, your boss is upset with you, and life goes on. Here, one of our two helicopters has a mechanical failure and crashes into a mountain then what? Fine, the mission is over before it starts.” A tinge of red edged up from his collar. “But, what if the helo lands safely? Then we have to make a decision on the ground what to do. That decision leads to so many other possibilities you can’t plan for them all. So that recon mission may turn into a shit show real quick.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“As long as you know, I’m the one who has the ultimate say around here.” She wasn’t intimidated. “You know I’m the one who is supposed to be in charge here, and so far, both of you have been assholes to me. So how about toning it down a little, or you’re going to find yourselves in the doghouse.”

The right side of Mike’s mouth twitched up. “A fair point.”

Tom laughed. “That’s the spirit. I like that. Don’t worry. The longer you know us, the more we grow on you.”

“Like a cyst?”

Mike and Tom laughed.

“Here’s one contingency Tom never planned for.” Mike reached his hands out to his side like a showman and put them behind his back. A snapping sound came from under his shirt, and Mike’s right hand came forward for them to see.

As soon as he saw it, Tom laughed. “You brought that piece of shit with you?”

“Heyyy. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Mike lifted the tomahawk in front of his face. It had a green wooden handle, and a black blade, on the opposite side was a spike. Silvery scratches marred the black metal of the blade and spike. The olive drab green of the wooden handle was scratched, worn, and was a dirty tan color near the bottom from years of use.

“Have some respect,” Mike said. “This thing has seen more combat than you have.”

Tom laughed again.

Julia looked at the big smile on Mike’s face and Tom’s laughter back at him. “I don’t get it.”

I don’t either,” Tom said.

“This.” Mike straightened his arm. “This little beauty was my dad’s.” He held it out to her. She took it in her hands, not knowing what to do with it, and handed it back. “He was Special Forces in Vietnam and carried it on every mission he went on.”

“Now tell her the best part,” Tom said, unable to contain himself.

“He took it on every mission he was a part of to include over one hundred successful ambushes.” He glanced at her and winked. “Not all of them were ours.” He twirled the handle, the scratched blade and spike spinning in front of his face. “Anyway, I pulled this out of one of his old footlockers. When it was my time, I decided to take it with me, take it to my war.”

“That’s nice, I guess.” Julia lifted her shoulders a bit. “I can’t relate to the war stuff, but I never had you pegged as the sentimental type.”

“There’s a lot more to me.” He sat at the table with them. “You only know the twisted steel and sex appeal part. I’m multidimensional.”

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t hold back a small smile.

He smiled back at her.

“Tell her the best part,” Tom said.

“My tomahawk and I came to this wonderful country for three tours.”

“I was there for all three,” Tom added.

Mike looked at him, then back at Julia. “Anyway, as I was saying. We did a lot of stuff, went on a lot of missions, and this little baby.” He lifted it up. “Like my father before me, it never left the scabbard when the shit hit the fan. It’s funny in this age of guns, artillery, and bombs, tomahawks don’t have much use.”

“The only combat that thing ever saw,” Tom said laughing, “was target practice into a tree.”

“Yeah, after a while, it became a running joke.” A wiry smile exposed a dimple on his cheek. “Until I finally looked at it as my uncomfortable, good luck charm.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“No matter where I wear it, it’s uncomfortable. As you saw I have it on my back in a harness for a quick draw. If I’m not wearing body armor and the rest of my kit, I wear it on my back, including when I’m driving. Yes, that’s uncomfortable. With my kit on and I’m walking, it’s on the back of my vest. I practically have to throw my shoulder out to get to it. With my kit and I’m in a truck, it’s on my waist, and it gets caught on everything. Of course, if I’m walking with a rucksack on, it goes on my waist too. It hangs down and bumps my leg, and it gets caught on vegetation.” He pushed the head of the tomahawk against the side of his leg. “It gets in the way a lot. Generally, no matter how I wear it, it’s a pain in the ass.”

“To the point,” Tom chuckled. “He wished his dad had carried a bowie knife, or pocket knife, or even a spoon with a sharp edge.”

“And it’s going?” Julia smiled at the joke.

“Oh yeah, it’s going. I’m taking this uncomfortable piece of guano.”

Tom stood with a grin plastered to his face. “And it will never see the light of day.”

Mike shrugged, standing. “You never know.”

Julia stood. “Let’s hope it’s still lucky.”

“Let’s hope.” Mike held his hand out toward the door. “Let’s head down to the armory and pick out some nice blasters.”