Bones of the Lost

you.”
    “Captain Welsted is taking good care of you?”
    “She’s been very helpful. Everyone has been very helpful.”
    “And you’ve met the rest of your team?”
    Assuming she meant Blanton and Noonan, I nodded.
    “Good.”
    Fisher laced her fingers on the tabletop. Her nails, though uncolored, were better polished and manicured than mine.
    “As you are undoubtedly aware, the tasking for a mission such as this is extremely complicated. And sensitive. The unearthing of an Afghan national is of concern not only to the DOD, but to the State Department, even the White House.”
    As Fisher spoke, Blanton eyed me without embarrassment. I met his gaze and, though listening to the colonel, stared back.
    “Negotiations for this exhumation began almost immediately after accusations were laid. Only recently have discussions proved fruitful. It is my intent that all phases of this operation proceed smoothly and successfully.”
    Apparently no one felt the statement required feedback. Or those present knew Fisher would want none.
    “So. Background.” Fisher drew papers from the top file. “The incident took place in the village of Sheyn Bagh, twelve kilometers east of FOB Delaram.”
    “Forward operating base,” Blanton explained for my benefit.
    Fisher’s eyes rolled to him, back to the page she was skimming.
    “The accused, Marine Second Lieutenant John Gross, was at that time a platoon commander with the RCT 6, the 3/8.”
    Not wanting to interrupt, I made a note to obtain translation later.
    “Intel had it that insurgents were storing illegal weapons in the village. Gross’s mission was to perform a cordon-and-knock.”
    That one I knew. Surround the area and go house to house, banging on doors.
    “Here is the full file.” Fisher disengaged the bottom folder and slid it my way. “Mr. Blanton, I assume you have a copy? Lieutenant Noonan?”
    Blanton and Noonan nodded.
    Fisher directed her next comments to me.
    “To summarize, on the day in question, a six-vehicle convoy rolled out of Delaram just before sunset. Upon arriving at Sheyn Bagh, Second Lieutenant Gross ordered his men to gather the villagers outside. Then, while some undertook a weapons search, others began interrogation. As the op was proceeding, an RPG detonated on the road outside the village wall, badly damaging a Humvee and injuring two of Gross’s men. According to multiple witnesses, pandemonium ensued.”
    Fisher speed-read, choosing what she considered salient points.
    “As per Lieutenant Gross’s statement, at the time of the explosion he was covering two LNs, local nationals, who’d been identified as possible insurgents.”
    Fisher brought her eyes closer to the file.
    “Ahmad Ali Aqsaee and Abdul Khalik Rasekh.”
    She straightened.
    “According to Second Lieutenant Gross, Aqsaee and Rasekh ran at him. Though he ordered them to halt in English and Pashto, both continued in a threatening manner. Fearing for his life, he opened fire.”
    “Gross’s version differs markedly from that of Eggers’s.”
    “Yes, Lieutenant Noonan. That is why we are here.”
    Recognizing the rebuke, Noonan leaned back, lips compressed so tightly they blanched at the edges.
    Fisher refocused on me.
    “According to Corporal Grant Eggers, Aqsaee and Rasekh weren’t rushing anyone. Terrified by the blast, they were attempting to move away from the road.”
    Several beats passed.
    “The victims’ bio profiles are in here?” I tapped the folder in front of me.
    “Yes. Rasekh was significantly taller than Aqsaee. And the two differed in age.”
    “By how much?”
    “Mr. Rasekh was fifty-two.”
    Fisher gave a tight shake of her head.
    “Mr. Aqsaee was killed on his seventeenth birthday.”

FISHER ADDRESSED A number of points concerning logistics, then, wishing us Godspeed, withdrew. Welsted took over.
    “It’s essential that we dot every
i
and cross every
t
while exhuming, transporting, and examining these remains. We screw up, go off task just once, the locals have the right to pull the plug. And we’ll have eyes on us every minute.”
    “Friggin’ nightmare.”
    “I realize that displeases you, Mr. Blanton. But that’s the agreement. Two local nationals observe throughout.”
    Blanton pooched air through his lips but said nothing.
    “The team will assemble at the staging area at oh-five-hundred tomorrow. Estimated flight time to Sheyn Bagh is two hours, which should put us wheels-down no later than oh-eight-hundred. Count an