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Authors: Allan Topol
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charge of the unit, is prepared to rely on him. That's good enough for the president."
"But Kendall's son's not the one down there, is he?"
"True."
"How many men in Davis's unit?" Terry was cross-examining Grange as if he were a trial lawyer confronting a hostile witness.
"Six. All highly trained."
Terry shot to his feet. "Six?" he said, raising his voice in incredulity. "Six fuckin' men? That's it?" He shook his head in exasperation. "There could be a whole division of Turkish soldiers guarding that prison."
"Listen, Terry," Grange said, now losing patience himself. Sure, he was sorry that it was Terry's kid, but he didn't need a tongue-lashing, no matter how much Terry contributed to the campaign. "It's a military action. We've got General Childress personally involved. He's air force too. He was a pilot himself. He knows what it's like. They're the experts. We have to trust their judgment. You wouldn't tell a surgeon how to operate, would you?"
Terry sneered. "I would if he wanted to cut me open with a pocketknife!"
Grange started to fire his own nasty retort, then choked back the words. Terry was pacing around the room like a caged predator. Grange glanced at Sarah, who was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed. One of the buttons of her blouse was undone. She wasn't wearing a bra.
She opened her eyes and caught Grange leering at her, as he frequently did. The pig. She looked down and rebuttoned her blouse, then glared at Grange, who turned away.
She had first heard about Grange from Lucy Preston, Senator Preston's wife, in the ladies' room during one of the parties on inaugural weekend two years ago. Lucy had said, "Did you see how Jimmy Grange was looking at us when we walked by? He thinks he's superstud. Jesus, what a scumbag. Always on the make. And our distinguished new president isn't much better."
Lucy's words had made Sarah's blood run cold. Her own marriage with Terry had been less than ideal for years. Separate lives was an apt term to describe it. She knew that he slept with other women, younger ones, from time to time. Once she had confronted him with it. "That's what I do," he had said, not sounding the least bit contrite. His attitude was, Stay if you want. Leave if you want. She had stayed because she couldn't face herself after severing her ties to her family when she had decided to marry him.
His face red with rage, Terry stopped pacing and turned toward Grange. "We should be sending in a thousand troops, for Christ's sake." He was shouting. "Supported by bombers."
Grange stood up. He refused to be a whipping boy. Terry had lost his sympathy. "The order's been given. The operation's under way." In fact, it wasn't, but Grange figured this was a good closing line as he beat a path to the door.
He was almost there when Terry cut him off and moved in tight, his hands gripping the lapels of Grange's expensive suit jacket. "If this doesn't work and you guys manage not to get Robert killed, which will be a miracle, I insist on being consulted before the next move is planned. Tell the president that."
Grange pulled away. "I'll let him know immediately. Meantime, stay here by the phone from seven on this evening. I'll call you the minute we know something. I hope to be able to tell you that your son is safe and in our hands."
"The way you clowns have planned this, that'll never happen," Terry yelled at Grange as the president's buddy was outside in the hall, beating a path toward the elevator.
Sarah couldn't remember the last issue on which she had agreed with Terry. On this one she did. In her mother's heart, she believed that Major Davis and his unit were never going to rescue her Bobby. Something awful was going to happen to him.
* * *
Maj. Charles "Butch" Davis looked up into the sky and gave a silent prayer of thanks. There was only a sliver of a moon. Even that was almost completely concealed behind dense cloud cover. Darkness was what he wanted. Darkness was what he had.
Butch Davis
"But Kendall's son's not the one down there, is he?"
"True."
"How many men in Davis's unit?" Terry was cross-examining Grange as if he were a trial lawyer confronting a hostile witness.
"Six. All highly trained."
Terry shot to his feet. "Six?" he said, raising his voice in incredulity. "Six fuckin' men? That's it?" He shook his head in exasperation. "There could be a whole division of Turkish soldiers guarding that prison."
"Listen, Terry," Grange said, now losing patience himself. Sure, he was sorry that it was Terry's kid, but he didn't need a tongue-lashing, no matter how much Terry contributed to the campaign. "It's a military action. We've got General Childress personally involved. He's air force too. He was a pilot himself. He knows what it's like. They're the experts. We have to trust their judgment. You wouldn't tell a surgeon how to operate, would you?"
Terry sneered. "I would if he wanted to cut me open with a pocketknife!"
Grange started to fire his own nasty retort, then choked back the words. Terry was pacing around the room like a caged predator. Grange glanced at Sarah, who was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed. One of the buttons of her blouse was undone. She wasn't wearing a bra.
She opened her eyes and caught Grange leering at her, as he frequently did. The pig. She looked down and rebuttoned her blouse, then glared at Grange, who turned away.
She had first heard about Grange from Lucy Preston, Senator Preston's wife, in the ladies' room during one of the parties on inaugural weekend two years ago. Lucy had said, "Did you see how Jimmy Grange was looking at us when we walked by? He thinks he's superstud. Jesus, what a scumbag. Always on the make. And our distinguished new president isn't much better."
Lucy's words had made Sarah's blood run cold. Her own marriage with Terry had been less than ideal for years. Separate lives was an apt term to describe it. She knew that he slept with other women, younger ones, from time to time. Once she had confronted him with it. "That's what I do," he had said, not sounding the least bit contrite. His attitude was, Stay if you want. Leave if you want. She had stayed because she couldn't face herself after severing her ties to her family when she had decided to marry him.
His face red with rage, Terry stopped pacing and turned toward Grange. "We should be sending in a thousand troops, for Christ's sake." He was shouting. "Supported by bombers."
Grange stood up. He refused to be a whipping boy. Terry had lost his sympathy. "The order's been given. The operation's under way." In fact, it wasn't, but Grange figured this was a good closing line as he beat a path to the door.
He was almost there when Terry cut him off and moved in tight, his hands gripping the lapels of Grange's expensive suit jacket. "If this doesn't work and you guys manage not to get Robert killed, which will be a miracle, I insist on being consulted before the next move is planned. Tell the president that."
Grange pulled away. "I'll let him know immediately. Meantime, stay here by the phone from seven on this evening. I'll call you the minute we know something. I hope to be able to tell you that your son is safe and in our hands."
"The way you clowns have planned this, that'll never happen," Terry yelled at Grange as the president's buddy was outside in the hall, beating a path toward the elevator.
Sarah couldn't remember the last issue on which she had agreed with Terry. On this one she did. In her mother's heart, she believed that Major Davis and his unit were never going to rescue her Bobby. Something awful was going to happen to him.
* * *
Maj. Charles "Butch" Davis looked up into the sky and gave a silent prayer of thanks. There was only a sliver of a moon. Even that was almost completely concealed behind dense cloud cover. Darkness was what he wanted. Darkness was what he had.
Butch Davis
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