Dark Agent by Carl Bowen

Author:Carl Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: shadow squadron, military, fiction, law, crime, special forces, black ops, covert, navy, army, air force, 978-1-4342-9170-7, 978-1-4342-9172-1, Carl Bowen, Wilson Tortosa, Capstone, Stone Arch Books
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2014-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

“You’re Cross?” the newcomer asked. “I’m Bradley Upton, CIA.”

“Agent Upton, it’s good to finally meet in person,” Cross said. “I take it you’re here to take over the interrogation. I haven’t been having much luck.”

Upton ran a cold, calculating look over Cross then directed it at the insurgent.

“You’re Mustafa’s father?” the agent asked. He gave Cross a quick glance to tell him to back off. Cross did. “I don’t know how to tell you this, sir . . .”

“He’s dead?” the man growled. He tensed in his chair, as if preparing to pounce. Cross put his hand on his pistol.

“He isn’t dead,” Upton said then let out a sigh. “Not yet. His shoulder is badly infected, though. He’s feverish. He’s dying. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it doesn’t look good.”

“But I . . . I bandaged it,” the man said. “I cleaned it. I removed the bullet.”

“Yeah, you did,” Upton said. “But you’re not exactly a doctor, are you?”

The boy’s father — the man who’d shown Cross nothing but angry defiance all day long — sagged uncertainly in his chair. “I thought I helped him. I tried to take care of him.”

“I know,” Upton said. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“He’s going to die? He’ll die?” the man asked.

“Well,” Upton said, “he certainly could die. Ryan’s corpsman’s been working on him all night, but there’s only so much he can do. The infection is beyond his power to treat.”

It took Cross a moment to realize the agent was referring to Pritchard, the corpsman for Cross’s SEAL team. The agent had used Cross’s first name so casually that Cross hadn’t even noticed. He said it like the two of them were old friends or something. Cross assumed Upton had done that to include him in the rapport he was trying to build with the insurgent, but he wished Upton had at least run it by him first.

Regardless, it was the base’s surgeons and doctors who’d been treating this man’s son, not Cross’s medic. What game was Upton playing?

“Is there someone else?” the insurgent asked, his voice thin and distant. “Another doctor?” His eyes had glazed slightly, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Upton or Cross in the face anymore.

“There’s no time,” Upton told him. “Mustafa is dying, and we’re a little bit outside the Green Zone. The only hope for him now is to let Ryan’s corpsman take off your son’s arm.”

The insurgent paled. He looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. “Oh, no . . .”

“Problem is,” Upton continued, “he won’t let us. We can’t get near him with the anesthetics to put him under and do the job. We need your help. You have to convince him that there’s no other way to save his life. Can you do that? Will he still listen to you?”

The man nodded slowly. “He always does what I tell him. Eventually. Mustafa. Mustafa . . .”

The man tried to stand, but Upton held out a hand to stop him.

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