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So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
Nomad had never read that poem as bleak. He lived that life and loved it. Everchanging missions and postings, people came, people went. His family was a distant, calm harbor he could return to at any time, which was enough for him.
The passings in the night was a life choice.
He was a novelty-seeker. An adventurer. He had the DNA of his Viking ancestors racing through his blood. Tired of the rocks and snow and needing to see other things, they climbed into a boat and headed to sea, driven by something deep inside, hungry for the next adventure.
And yet, this mission.This mission.He didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t want to see the ambulance fade into the distance.
He wanted her back in his arms.
Crazy, right?he asked himself. Nomad held his breath, waiting for the update, terrified that T-Rex would say, “We did our best, but it wasn’t enough.”
As the elevator doors drew open, he said, “I have nothing on her status.” T-Rex tipped his ear toward the door. “I do have Colonel Watts holding. Let’s move.”
They exited the elevator, and Nomad followed T-Rex into an empty room. Colonel Watts was on the screen, looking down at a report that held his focus.
“Sir,” T-Rex and Nomad stood at attention in front of the camera.
“At ease. Take a seat, both of you. Nomad, I wanted to review a few things from your file with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me catch you up to speed.” He turned toward T-Rex. “You, too. I just got some interesting information from the Mediterranean. I’m going to put you on split screen.” Another man’s face came up in the frame on the right. “This is Javeed Hasan, DIA.” DIA was military intelligence similar to the CIA.
Nomad had assumed intelligence would be taking the reins when dealing with Poole. Maybe Javeed Hasan was the one interrogating the guy.
“Call me Hasan. I’m going to cut to the chase. Our AI system spat out your name, Nomad, as the right guy, in the right place, at the right time, with the right skills—technical and otherwise.”
“Sir.”
“Thank you for your assistance in bringing Sgt. Poole back into the fold.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We want to keep the circle tight with this information for many reasons,” Hasan said.
Nomad thought they didn’t want to affect morale, encourage copycats, or look like idiots for giving this guy clearance. No good could come from broadcasting the issue or spreading the knowledge.
“So we needed to pick wisely for this next step,” Hasan continued. “My understanding is that you have an association with the Viennese embassy. Tell me about that.”
Nomad crossed his arms over his chest. DIA and the Viennese embassy in the same breath with mentioning Poole?
What washisassociation? Nomad’s parents had been CIA field officers who worked under the guise of jobs with thediplomatic corps. One of the places they worked was out of the Viennese Embassy.
Was that what this DIA officer wanted, for Nomad to out his parents?
When he hit high school, his family moved to Vienna. Nomad had slowly been figuring out his parents’ true professions. It was at that time that his family had gone to a dinner party where Nomad met a Green Beret, some relative of the Viennese ambassador, and his wife.
Was that what Hasan wanted to chat about?
That night had been pivotal for him. At eighteen, he’d been an idealist and a patriot. When this Green Beret had talked about his work as a diplomatic special forces operator, the kind of special forces nobody made movies about, Nomad was honed in. He did his research and signed the contracts. He’d go to boot right after graduation and then on to Ranger school.
His parents had taken the news with gray faces, their muscles held tight under their skin. Usually, they were better about masking. Well, if anything happened to him, they’d have his twin, who was heading toward medical school to become a brain surgeon. The contrast was stark. His parents treated Nomad’s career decisions like personal affronts to their life’s sacrifices.
Since no one knew what they had done for a living, Nomad was pretty sure that his grandparents on both sides would have met their choices with the same strain around the eyes and tightened lips.