The Genesis Plague (2010)

Ramirez. ‘I’m not about to send our interpreter to do your job. Ramirez, be a man for God’s sake.’ He patted Hazo on the shoulder and motioned for him to return to the back of the line. ‘We’re got a plan. Let’s stick to it. Stop wasting time.’
    Shuster raised his M-16 and moved forward.
    ‘You’re a pussy, Ramirez,’ Holt said, giving the dissenter a prodding push.
    ‘Fuck you. You would’ve been right behind me and you know it.’

67
    ‘Thanks for getting here so fast,’ Jason yelled to Candyman over the sound of the Blackhawk’s whirling blades. Once in the helicopter, he buckled his harness, tightened the chin strap on his flight helmet and adjusted the mic boom on his headset. Next to him, Meat fussed with slackening the shoulder straps to accommodate his bulk.
    ‘No problem,’ Candyman said. ‘It was easy to find you. That’s a mighty big fire you boys lit up. Could practically see it the second I got up in the air. Didn’t even have to bother with the GPS.’ He motioned to the ravaged outline of the safe house, engulfed in orange fire. A column of thick black smoke boiled straight up from the conflagration into the windless sky before melding into the night.
    ‘Man, you guys don’t mess around,’ said the slight copilot with an air of admiration.
    Jason wasn’t about to explain why they’d set the house ablaze. The act was not something to be glorified.
    But Meat felt the kid deserved to hang on to the outlaw image, saying, ‘We like to be thorough.’ He managed a thin smile.
    ‘I’ll say,’ the copilot said. ‘Who was in there anyway? Some of those Al-Qaeda fuckers?’
    Jason gave Meat a stern glance. Meat said nothing.
    ‘Even for a rookie you’re an idiot,’ Candyman chastised the copilot. ‘Why don’t you go jerk off to Full Metal Jacket for the two-hundredth time and leave these guys alone?’ He worked the controls and lifted the Blackhawk smoothly into the air. As he banked north, the chopper’s downdraught whipped up the smoke and flames.
    To the west, two klicks out, Jason spotted three Humvees angling fast along the dirt roads that bisected the fields, heading for the blaze. In the glare of their bouncing rectangular headlights he spotted Iraqi Security Force insignias. His jaw clamped tight. Now they were showing up?
    ‘Don’t worry about the sand cops,’ Candyman said as if linked into Jason’s thoughts. ‘Our guys will get there first and send them on their way.’ He swung the chopper a bit. ‘There … see?’ He raised his hand for Jason to see, then pointed down and left.
    Down below, only a klick away, a second convoy was cutting its own path through the wheat fields on a beeline for the burning house. This time, the headlights highlighted nothing but desert camouflage. Six marine Humvees.
    Jason’s jaw slackened.
    ‘Two more platoons are heading for the cave,’ Candyman added. ‘Another unit’s already handling the chopper wreck. Said they found a bunch of shot-up Al-Qaeda in a ditch. That your handiwork too?’
    Jason said nothing, so Meat spoke up. ‘They were taking pictures of the wreck, like they were at Disney World … probably looking to update their Facebook page. We didn’t feel that was appropriate.’
    The eager copilot chimed in with, ‘Yeah, gotta teach these sand monkeys some manners.’ But Candyman shot him a biting stare and he sank into his seat.
    ‘By the way, Google,’ Candyman said solemnly, ‘sorry to hear about Camel and Jam. That’s a goddamn shame.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    A few more seconds went by without conversation.
    Eventually, Candyman had to ask, ‘Did Crawford fuck things up as badly as you said?’
    ‘Worse,’ Jason said. ‘You have no idea.’
    ‘That guy’s going to be in a world of hurt when the BG finds out what he’s done …’
    The BG, thought Jason. Despite his distaste for conspiracy theories, there was no telling if the brigadier general wasn’t part of this too.

68
    The inverted-V ceiling dropped precipitously once more as the passage drilled through the mountain in a wide hollow tube that reminded Shuster of an earthen storm drain. He kept the procession drumming along to a steady, furtive cadence - Ramirez, Holt and Hazo following in his wake. Sweeping his light in wide arcs over the rough stone confirmed an absence of mining or tool marks. Only time and the elements had been this tunnel’s quarrymen.
    The tunnel curved gently from left to right, then back again, the ground