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prisoner. I would suggest that if you want to relieve yourself of the burden of blame, do with him what you like. After all, was it not his responsibility to secure this outpost? Perhaps retell the story of how he orchestrated the prisoner’s escape, how he failed to lift a finger.”
    The six remaining guards nodded. They all knew what would happen if the blame lay in their hands.
    “I think you know what you must do, brothers. Good luck.”
    The delivery man turned and headed back to his truck, the engines of the pickup trucks revving in preparation for their departure.
    “How do you know we will not tell the truth?” asked another guard.
    The delivery man shrugged. “If that is your wish, may Allah grant you a swift death.” He handed the PKM to one of his men and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Farewell friends. Enjoy the food. The dates are especially delicious.”
    All six guards stood in muted shock and watched the caravan make its way out of the outpost. As soon as the sound of tire on gravel faded down the hill, all six men turned and headed to the prisoner’s cell.
     
    +++
     
    Andy didn’t say a word as the convoy cleared the last building and rumbled onto the dirt road heading down a steep hill. It was the first chance he’d had to see the surrounding area. They were heading into a broad valley, homes dotting the landscape below.
    Once they’d made it half a mile from his former prison, the delivery man pulled out an Afghan cigarette and lit it with a cheap lighter. He took a deep pull, held it, then let the gray plume out through the side of his mouth.
    Without turning to look at Andy he said, “I’ll tell you what, they sure make Marines uglier than when I went through Parris Island.”
    It took Andy a moment to realize the guy had said it in English and that he now recognized the voice. He turned his head as the driver took off the sunglasses and threw him a wink.
    “Rich,” Andy breathed, relief flooding his body. The spook was the last person he was expecting to see. He hadn’t seen Isnard since passing through Baghdad, which seemed like ages ago.
    Rich Isnard smiled and tossed Andy a set of keys. “Take your handcuffs off and grab the gun under your seat.” He pointed to the road ahead. “We’re going to have company.”
    Andy shifted his gaze and saw what Isnard was talking about. There was a much larger convoy of vehicles coming their way. He knew it was the men behind his capture.
    “With just a little bit of luck we’ll let them fly by and it might buy us some time before they talk to the boys back there.”
    “That’s your plan?” asked Andy, reaching under the seat and feeling the familiar touch of a rifle stock.
    “Hey, man, I put this little rescue op together on the fly. Semper Gumby, right?”
    Isnard was grinning like a teenager who’d just gotten to third base with the captain of the cheerleading squad. Something about his smile reminded Andy of another Marine who was known for his bold charge into the maw of the enemy: Cal Stokes. With any luck, they’d survive the day and Andy might have a chance to tell his old friend what he’d discovered.

Chapter 8
    Helmand Province, Afghanistan             
    9:17am AFT, August 24 th
     
    The smaller convoy of three eased off the road to allow the oncoming vehicles to pass. There were two humvees in the lead, one sporting a .50 caliber mounted machine gun, the second armed with a Mark-19 grenade launcher. Made in America.
    Next came the large black SUVs, their windows an impenetrable black. There were ten, then another three humvees bringing up the rear.
    Isnard whistled.
    “That’s a lot of firepower.”
    Andy half expected the opposing force to stop and take them out.
    “Figures.”
    Isnard turned to look at him. “What do you know? I couldn’t get confirmation on who was holding you. All they told me was that it was someone high up. I pulled every damned string I could just to get that much.”
    Andy