Chapter Five - Tyler
My grip on Ricky DEA’s sweater remains tight, but it’s less a threat and more so that I don’t fall immediately to my knees when I let go. What the fuck is going on?
“Maddie…” I say. But she just keeps talking to Ricky.
“What do we do? How do we start? When do I go? Do I go with you now?”
Ricky taps me on the fist that’s still holding his sweater, and I finally let him loose, trading places with him in the seat I just yanked him up from.
He says, “The Christmas deadline you guys have in place is coming up, and he’s going to expect something. This is probably our best shot if we don’t want him to get too suspicious. If he thinks you’re going to him because you can’t get the money together, we can likely sell it. We’ll need a few days to brief you and get you ready for what you’ll be doing. I’d like longer, but we don’t have it, so we’ll just have to do the best we can.”
Fuck this. I can’t keep it in. “The best we fucking can?” I shout. “That does not sound like what you want for someone when you’re sending them into battle! ‘Petty Officer Morgan, we know you haven’t completed your diver training or ordnance disposal courses, but we’re gonna just toss you out there in the field anyway, with IEDs and chemical weapons and so forth, and just have you do the best you can.’ You can hear how that sounds stupid, right?”
“Ty—” Maddie starts, but she can wait for a second. She had her shot to be worked up. It’s my turn.
I stand up, rip off my tie—because it’s fucking choking me to death—and throw it on the ground. (Fuck it. I’ll buy Evan a new one.) I pop the collar on the shirt, and get right in Ricky’s face. We’re about the same height, so we’re basically nose to nose. “I don’t know what the fuck they teach you assholes at the DEA, but this is not how shit is done. Read me? You were in the military?”
“I was.”
“Yeah? Which branch?”
“Army.”
“Oh, well, of fucking course you were. And what was your job? Besides getting punched by Rangers? Were you a fuckin’ Ranger?”
“For a while,” he says.
“Fuck does that mean?”
“It means that I left the Rangers.”
“Why? To do what?”
“I was recruited by First SFOD-D. That’s what I did before I got out.”
First SFOD-D? Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta? Seriously?
“You were a fuckin’ Delta Force operator?” I ask him.
“I was.”
“You were a fucking Delta Force operator, and went through everything that becoming that entails, and yet somehow you think it’s a fucking banner idea to send an untrained woman into what is basically a combat operation?”
“What does me being a woman have to do with it?” Maddie asks sharply.
Oh, fuck. “It… That’s not… Nothing.”
“No,” she says. “You made a point of saying ‘woman,’ like that has particular meaning. You somehow think because I’m a woman, I won’t be able to handle it?”
Jesus Christ! “No,” I say, taking a breath. “It’s not because you’re a woman. You just happen to be a woman. You are, in fact, a woman,” I continue pointing out. “But the more relevant fact to this conversation is that you’re not trained.”
She eyes me. I don’t know if she buys it, but I don’t give a shit. I mean it.
“Hey, look,” I continue. “I trained with two female techs in EOD school and I’d take either of them any day over half the jagoffs I graduated with. They were the fucking tits at the job.” Oh, fuck me. “Not the tits. I didn’t mean… I mean they were, but not… It’s just an expression! Fuck it! My point is, you’d be amazing at anything you do, but everybody who does anything needs training! All I’m saying!”
“It’s intel,” says Ricky DEA, casually, from out of nowhere.
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“It’s not a combat operation. It’s intel-gathering. Look, I will make sure that if it starts to look even a little hot, we get her the fuck out of there.”
“And how will you do that?” I ask him. “Nobody knows you’re here, right? You’re in deep cover. How the hell will you get her out?”
“Tyler… It’s Tyler, right?” I nod. “Tyler, at the end of the day, I do still work for a major US government agency. We have tools at our disposal. And she’s not going in completely cold. My Vegas counterpart and I will give her a crash course.”
“Crash course. Fucking super.” I can’t believe this.
“Besides,” he says, “I’ve seen her handle herself with Castillo. I don’t think it’s her you should be worried about.” And then he smiles one of those charming, good-guy smiles that I normally just want to punch off someone’s face. But somehow, on this dude, I don’t mind it. I dunno why. Maybe because he was Delta. Whatever.
“Tyler…” Maddie steps to me. “I need to do this. OK? I need to.”
She takes my hand in hers and intertwines our fingers. Looking into her eyes, I can see the need she’s talking about. I can see it. Her expression projects the truth that what she needs is so much greater than just avenging Pete, or getting even with Carlos, or anything as small and petty as that. It’s about the need she has to stand strong. To lift herself up and move forward again. Finally. After all this time.
Well, she’s sure picked one hell of a coming-out party for herself.
“I get it,” I whisper, “I just… Dude, can you fucking go so we can talk about this shit? Please?” I say to my new pal, Ricky.
He nods. “Do you have a piece of paper?” he asks.
Maddie gets him one, and he grabs a pen from his other cargo pocket. He writes something down and hands it to her.
“This is the number to ring if you do decide you want to help us out. The woman who will answer is called Emily.”
“Is that her real name?” asks Maddie.
“It’s the only one I’ve ever called her.”
“That’s not an answer,” I point out.
He nods. “I know.” And as he grabs the door handle, he says, “I’m sorry this is happening for you, Maddie. I really am.” He pulls the door open and pauses in the doorway. “But I suppose we’re also lucky it is you and not somebody else. Give a call when you’re ready to get going.”
And then… he’s gone.