Isolation & Fear (Damned of the 2/19th Book Seven)

Truth

Magazine Platoons Operation and Command Tent
Grafenwöhr
US Army Training Area
Training Site 22
2/19th Company Area
West Germany
05 February, 1988
2330 Hours

The Big Three pushed through the overlapping canvas flaps of the tent, filling it up pretty fast. There was only the four of us in the tent, and looking up from the table I could see something new on Colonel Henry's face.

Fear.

"Can I help you?" I asked them.

Colonel Henry sat down in front of me, Major Miner and SGM Nicholas flanking him. They looked at the map I had spread out of Western Germany. They were silent for a long moment.

"It occurs to me, Chief Henley, that you have lied to me since before I met you," The Colonel rumbled, staring me in the face.

I smiled. "And what makes you say that? Some Trinidad voodoo bullshit? Your stint at West Point as the resident token coon? Or your time as just another nigger behind the trigger infantryman in Vietnam in 71?" I sipped my coffee. "You got a lot of chocolate balls dangling between your legs, you come in my tent and call me a liar to my face, you Bahamas porch monkey."

The insults rolled off him like I hadn't even uttered them. All three men's gazes were focused, intent, and while there was fear in their eyes, identical fear, there was also stubbornness and dedication.

True believers.

Colonel Henry placed his hands on the table as I lit a cigarette, sneering at the three of them. I stared at him through the cloud of smoke as he smiled. A slow, evil, deadly smile.

"You, Chief Henley, are exactly who you say you are," He said.

"So?" I shrugged.

"But you are not what you let everyone think," He leaned forward. "You are indeed something that nobody expects."

I snorted. "If you call me a white man I'll break your monkey fucking crab eating tourist chasing jaw," I told him.

Colonel Henry nodded and all three men put their hands on the table, flat, and leaned back slightly. They were showing me they were unarmed.

"You, Chief Henley, work directly for Blackbriar," Colonel Henley said softly.

"That kind of talk can get a man killed 'round these parts, Colonel," I told him.

He nodded slowly. "Yes, yes it can. However, you know that Blackbriar Ridge sent me and my associates here, know that I do not have a superstitious or warped view of what exactly the duties and responsibilities of Blackbriar Ridge entail."

He had me and I knew it. I also knew there was no reason he'd come right out and say what he had said without damn good reason.

"What do you want, you Jamaican jungle bunny," I sneered.

"I want the truth," He said. He nodded down, toward where he'd set a nylon bag. "May I?"

"The truth is a strange thing," I told him.

He reached down and picked up the bag, unzipping it, and pulling out folders. 

"I have been reading files delivered by courier from Blackbriar Ridge," he told me.

"You're black and can read. Congrats," I sneered. "Will wonders never cease."

The insults just rolled off him again. He pulled out a stack of file folders. Major Miner and SMG copied him, sliding out folders. He went through them and picked out a set of folders that were taped together and flipped open the cover.