Fort Bragg, North Carolina (The Past)
Two months after the events in Libya, Angel and Cassie, attired in their full-dress uniforms, walked silently through the main entrance of Building C-6841 at Fort Bragg. The long, sterile corridor stretched out before them, fluorescent lights humming overhead and casting harsh shadows on the polished linoleum floors. The institutional green walls and motivational posters created a familiar yet oppressive atmosphere.
As they paced the seemingly endless hallway, enlisted personnel they passed stood at attention. Feeling nauseated by the situation, Angel kept his eyes forward while Cassie offered each a sympathetic nod.
They continued past administrative offices and conference rooms until they reached their destination. Glancing at the nameplate beside the door that read "Brigadier General Eckhart," they paused.
Taking a deep breath, Angel felt the weight of his anxiety settle heavily on his shoulders.
Cassie held his hand tightly. "Ready?" she whispered.
He gave a slight nod and opened the door, allowing her to step in before following and shutting it behind him.
Sitting behind a polished mahogany desk, the secretary looked up as they entered. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight, military bun, emphasizing the sharp, intelligent angles of her face. She regarded them with steady, hazel eyes, which crinkled faintly at the corners as a pleasant, if somewhat weary, smile touched her lips. "Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sergeant Kevin Collins and First Lieutenant Cassandra Collins. We're here to see Brigadier General Blake Eckhart."
The woman glanced at her appointment book and nodded. "Have a seat. I will let the general know you're here."
Five minutes later, the far door opened, and General Eckhart stepped in. He was in his mid-sixties, lean but sturdy, with a clean-shaven head and a neatly trimmed white mustache that lent him a dignified air. His service uniform was immaculate—dark blue with a single silver star on each shoulder tab, and a row of commendations above the breast pocket that spoke to decades of steady, unflashy service. He carried himself with the calm assurance of someone long used to command. His sharp gray eyes took them in with a measured glance—assessing, but not unkind. There was a quiet steadiness in his posture, the kind that came from years of leading without shouting. He gave a small nod. "Come in, you two."
Without a word, the pair stood and followed him into the sparsely furnished office. The general walked around to sit in his standard-issue black chair and gestured toward two basic padded chairs across from his regulation metal desk.
"Before we begin, I would like to express my heartfelt sympathies to you and your team for what you've experienced."
"Thank you, sir." Cassie nodded.
Angel stayed silent.
Noting this, he continued. "We've wrapped up our investigation of the incident and—"
"Incident!?" Scoffing, Angel's irritation flared. Cassie touched his arm in an attempt to soothe him, but he shook it off. "That wasn't an incident, General; it was a damned massacre!"
"Sergeant, I understand, but—"
"Do you?" Angel interrupted again. "Do you really think you understand what it's like to gun down twenty defenseless, innocent children!?" The words came out with malice. "You don't! So don't placate me with 'official' words."
"Kevin!" Cassie hissed, futilely attempting to quiet him.
"No, let him continue." The general turned back to Angel. "You have more?"
"I know this will get filed away as some incident. Just some fucking bureaucratic bullshit, and Tag is going to walk clean, isn't he?"
Leaning back in his chair, Eckhart eyed him momentarily. "I read your report, Sergeant, all of it. Four times."
The General's tone reached Angel. There was sympathy in it that he had not expected.
After the massacre, Colonel Tag had trucks brought in and cleaned out the building in less than an hour. We knew this part of the plan, but we were assured he would take the contraband to the airport for transport back to U.S. soil. By the time we received your report about the children and launched an investigation, he'd disappeared.
"AWOL?" Cassie asked.
"Yes. He got away with a large store of weapons, artillery, munitions, and over twenty billion in gold bars. He'd been planning this for a long time."
Slumping in his chair, his energy drained, Angel asked, "How could he keep something like this a secret?"
"He played the game well. Used his training and skills to connect with foreign entities over at least the last six years."
"Six?" Angel swallowed. "That's almost as long as I've been under his command."
"Yes, and that's why you were also under investigation."
"What?" Cassie snapped at the general. "You can't be serious! You actually suspect—"
"Cassie." It was Angel's turn to place his hand on hers to soothe her, "I understand why." His voice was flat. "I was one of his highest-ranking officers, he trained me, pushed for my quick promotions, and assigned me to my team. I spent much of my free time with him, learning his methods. He was my mentor. From the outside, it might look suspicious."
"It's bullshit, Kevin!"
Eckhart let the moment play out, then spoke up, "If I may finish?"
She seethed at the general, wringing her hands in frustration that anyone could believe her brother was in cahoots with Tag and what happened, but she held back any further retort.
"That investigation was short-lived. You have one hell of a team, Sergeant Collins. They've been vetted and cleared, and they all vouched for you. They even threatened to quit if we charged you with anything."
Angel didn't respond, but Cassie saw him straighten slightly — could see the pride in his posture — pride and gratitude for his team. They had saved him once again.
"Your service is also a factor. You've done a great deal of good work, son, and you should be proud."
"Proud child killer, you mean?" His tone darkened as he lowered his eyes.
"You are not at fault for that. Colonel Tag is."
Shifting his gaze back to the general, Angel asked, "Where is he?"
"As far as we know, he's still in Libya or some other non-extradition country."
"What's the plan?" Angel leaned forward, eyes cold, "How are you going to get him?"
Eckhart shook his head, solemn with the news, "Unfortunately, since we've pulled completely out of the region, and with all of our other operations in full swing, the brass has decided now is not the time to spend resources on locating and apprehending Colonel Tag."
Angel balked, "If you don't expedite a mission, he's going to disappear off your radar. He knows Libya, hell, he knows all of Africa and the surrounding countries, and if he has the contacts like you said, you will lose him."
"Something I brought up with my superiors," Eckhart informed, "and while he's committed crimes against humanity, all we can do for now is keep a close eye on him until we can spare a team to go hunt him down."
Breathing through his nose, Angel said, "I'll go."
"I thought you might say that, but we can't spare anyone, not even your team, and we can't authorize you to go alone. It could cause an international incident. No, until such time as we can devote resources or he turns up in a country we can extradite from, I'm afraid Colonel Robert Tag is off limits."
"Fucking military bureaucracy!" Angel rose from his chair, done with listening to excuses.
"Sit down, Sergeant. Now!" The general's command rang with authority.
But Angel just locked eyes with him, challenging him to say another word. Cassie reached over, took his arm, and pulled him back into his chair. Begrudgingly, he let her, but his eyes never moved from the General's.
Not backing down from the staring contest, Eckhart's eyes softened considerably. "Look. What you and your team had to go through is absolutely disgusting. And I agree that he needs to be found." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small box, opening it as he spoke. "But we need you, Sergeant. Not for vigilante missions, but to lead our best troops and your team out in the field. To help bring some of our current operations to a close so we can shift resources toward a capture mission. And to do that, you'll need this."
He rotated the box and pushed it across the desk. Within it lay the rank insignia of a Warrant Officer.
Cassie's eyes widened. "Kevin. With this, you could—"
Barely acknowledging the offer, he sneered, "What I could do with this is accept being the military's trained lap dog!" Reaching over, Angel slapped the box closed, his cold eyes locked on Eckhart's. "No, thank you, sir. I'm sticking with our applications for early separation."
"Sergeant, this is an amazing opportunity. You would be among the youngest to be promoted to this rank. Tag may have trained you, but your skill set has proven superior. You are needed here."
Angel stood up definitively this time. "The army can't follow where I am needed, sir."
"If you go looking for Tag—"
"You said he's off limits and in a non-extradition country. I can't touch him. But there are others here who need to face their demons. And I'm going to make sure they do."
"You're describing a bounty hunter." It wasn't posed as a question.
"Legal and by the book. Just how you bureaucrats like it." Taking a final look at the box, Angel mustered some sincerity. "Thank you for the offer, though. You have our applications for early separation. I trust they'll be processed through the proper channels."
With a defeated shake of his head, the general sighed. "Yes, I'll expedite them through the administrative review board. Given the circumstances and that you're both near the end of your current contracts, I expect your requests will be granted." He paused. "But it won't be a general discharge."
"Sir!" Cassie protested. "He did nothing wrong! Neither of us did. If this is some kind of—"
This time, he smiled. "So quick to assume, Miss Collins. I've recommended both of you for honorable discharge to the separation board. Given your service records and the circumstances, I'm confident they'll approve it with all rights and privileges."
Angel's expression shifted slightly—surprise mixed with skepticism. "You'd actually do that?"
"Your country owes you that much, at minimum."
"Sir." Cassie choked up. "Thank—"
"Sure," Angel cut in, spun around, and headed toward the door. "If we're done here, I have things to do."
Cassie stiffened at the general's look, but he waved his hand. "You're both dismissed."
She saluted and joined Angel as he opened the door.
"Mr. Collins?"
He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Despite his anger, he kept his voice steady and replied softly, "Sir?"
"Find peace, son. Please." It was expressed with a father's voice, not a soldier's.
Something flickered behind Angel's eyes, unreadable and gone as quickly as it appeared. He gave a brief nod, then turned and left.
Cassie paused for a moment, looked back at the general, and mouthed, "Thank you," then followed him out.
When she caught up to Angel in the hallway, she fell in step beside him, but didn't try to speak. They walked back through the long corridor in silence until they exited the building. Outside, the North Carolina heat hit them immediately, and Angel halted abruptly, taking a stuttered breath. "Fuck."
With tears and a slight bemused laugh, she asked, "Bounty hunter?"
"I need to do something, Cassie. Something that matters. I need…"
Staring ahead at nothing in particular, he stopped speaking, as if the word he was going to say sounded out of reach, impossible to obtain.
Taking his hand in hers, she prodded softly, "Need?"
He shifted his gaze to her, and eyes that would remain haunted for years to come, bore into her soul. In a whisper, he pleaded, "Redemption?"
With matching eyes, she clenched her fingers over his knuckles and whispered back a promise, "We'll find it together."