Slaying the Dragon (Deception Duet #2) (36 page)

“Tyler,” he began, taking my hand with enthusiasm. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Colonel,” I responded, wanting to show him the respect he deserved at one point in his life. The respect he may
still
deserve.

He sat back in the chair, his stature relaxing. “Please, call me Francis.”

I smiled slightly. “Very well, Francis.”

A heavy silence fell and I looked at Mackenzie. I had no idea what was going on, but that seemed to be par for the course lately.
 

“Well… I guess I’ll go to the ladies room and allow you two to get to know each other better,” Mackenzie said, practically running toward the door.

“
Mi bichito
?” Francis called as she was about to leave.

“Yes?”

“I think it best you stay. I have a feeling Tyler has many questions for me, and I’d like you to hear all the answers, as well. We promised each other full disclosure. I kept you in the dark for years, and I can’t do that anymore. It’s time I stop hiding and finally confront the past. Too many people have gotten hurt, your mother and Tyler included, trying to find out the truth of what really happened. There’s too much blood on my hands and it needs to stop, even if I can’t save myself.”

Her brow furrowed as she listened to his words. She slowly returned to the bed and pulled up another chair, sitting down. They both looked at me with eager eyes and I could see the resemblance. Even through the burns that had scarred the entire left side of Galloway’s body, there was no mistaking the similarity between the two.

“I’m not exactly prepared,” I said, breaking the tension.

“It’s okay. I suppose it’s best we start at the beginning.”

“The embassy fire…”

He shook his head and grinned mischievously. “No. That’s the end…more or less. The beginning was Bosnia.”

I settled in for what I knew had to be a story unlike any I could have anticipated.

“The U.S. didn’t want to get involved in the civil war, but that didn’t mean troops weren’t sent over there. There were thousands of troops deployed who were stationed in a safe zone, ready to intervene if need be. And there were some of us there on intelligence gathering missions. What you need to understand is that things were so fucked up over there. The carnage was unlike anything anyone should ever have to see and it gets to you. Our unit’s sole purpose was to try to get intel on Serbian and Croatian movements, plans, et cetera, and that meant turning someone on the inside. We went through thousands of dossiers, looking for someone who would have some motive to help us. We stumbled on a man name Viktor Popovic. Granted, there was nothing too suspicious about him on paper, but when I looked at family history, something struck me as odd.”

“What was that?” I asked, intrigued.

“He was only twenty-three at the time of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s declaration of independence. At which time, he also filed for and was granted a very quick divorce. Upon further inspection, I realized his father was very influential in the Bosnian Serbs. It all could have turned out to be nothing, but something didn’t sit right with me about this. I looked into his former wife and learned she was Muslim. It made me very suspicious. Maybe this guy’s father forced him to divorce her. Maybe he had privileged information regarding the forthcoming ethnic cleansing of the Muslims and wanted to save his son from that. So we took our chances and made our approach to learn more.”

“And what did you learn?” I asked, taking a sip of water.

“That my instincts were right. It took some time to get this guy to open up and talk about everything, but he eventually admitted he tried to fight his father on the matter, but his father promised him his wife would not meet any harm if he agreed to divorce her. So he did. Of course, this wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was hoping to use his ex-wife as leverage to get him to be my man on the inside. So I did what I could to look into his ex-wife’s whereabouts. We found that she was being held at a sort of concentration camp just over the border from the safe zone. At first, Viktor didn’t want to believe us. He insisted he had been secretly seeing her up until about a month prior when his father put her on a flight to Greece, but I had planted that seed of doubt. Days later, he came to me, furious. He had confronted his father and found out that his wife, Irena, had been taken to a camp. He agreed to help us with any information we wanted, as long as we agreed to bring Irena to safety.”

He shook his head and took a deep breath, briefly looking away as he composed himself. When he looked back up, his eyes were worn, the weariness etched on his face. “I’m not proud of it, but I agreed, although I had no intention of following through. An operation like that could take months to plan and, by that time, I hoped to be long gone with enough information that could help our country should we have to become involved in the conflict.”

“But that didn’t happen, did it?” Mackenzie asked, grabbing her father’s hand, comforting him.

“No, it didn’t. The more I learned about what was going on over there, the harder following my directive to not get involved became. When I learned exactly what was happening in those camps, I knew I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. Based solely on my promise that I would deliver his wife to safety, Viktor had put his own life at risk to help me and my country. And I knew I had to make it right.

“When I approached my team with my plan, I gave them an out. Going in and doing an extraction at the camp would be dangerous. Lives could be lost, but I needed to be true to my word. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. Surprisingly, my entire unit was with me. Since we didn’t have the backing of the U.S. government, we would need to go in, do the extraction, and get back across the border and into the safe zone without being detected or firing a single shot. It was a smaller camp set up at a hotel, but it was still risky, especially without having the luxury of time to properly plan. We were pretty much going in blind, hoping his wife was still alive.”

“You didn’t even know whether she was alive?” Mackenzie asked.

He slowly shook his head. “No, but I knew I would regret it if we didn’t at least
try
to go in. The following night, we made our way the few kilometers from our base camp and into Bosnian territory. As we approached the hotel, the screams I heard were chilling. The cries…” He shuddered.
 

“I wished I couldn’t speak their language. That way, I wouldn’t understand their words, begging for their abuser to stop, saying they’d rather die than have to suffer through any more brutality.”
 

He buried his head in his hands and tugged at the little hair he had. The room was still as we were on the edge of our proverbial seats to find out how the mission went. Francis slowly raised his head and, with a furrowed brow, met my eyes. “I had seen a lot of things during my time with the Rangers,” he started, his voice strained. “And I have seen a lot of things since. But nothing compares to what I witnessed that evening. It’s stayed with me always, and I have a feeling it will until my dying day.”

He stared into the distance as a lone tear trickled down his cheek. I barely saw any combat during my time in the navy, so I had no idea how I would react to the sights and sounds he was describing, albeit vaguely. I knew enough about the conflict in Bosnia to fill in the blanks, though.

“Viktor went in first and made small talk with the Serbian guard stationed at the front, giving us an opportunity to sneak in. Once inside, we broke into teams of two to search for our target. Harrison and I were pretty lucky, finding her in the first room we swept.”

“Harrison Mills?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait a minute,” Mackenzie interjected. “Is that…?” She raised her eyebrows, her father simply nodding in response. “How did I not know that?” She leaned back in her chair as she rubbed her temples.

“Not know what?” I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

“That one of the members of my unit eventually moved in next door to us when he transferred to Counterintelligence.”

“Damian’s father?” I looked at Mackenzie.

“Yes.”

“So, besides you, he’s the only one from your team who’s still alive, although he’s supposedly been missing for years.”

He shook his head. “He’s not missing, but we’ll get to that.”

“Okay,” I agreed, curious as to what the story with Mills was.

“Like I was saying, Harrison and I found Viktor’s wife and did a quick extraction. She was in a room with roughly twenty other women, all of them chained to the wall. They were pleading with us to be set free, to take them with us, but I couldn’t. We weren’t even supposed to be there, and I needed to do everything to minimize the potential backlash of causing what could be viewed as an international incident. I hated what I did, but I simply shook my head without giving them so much as an explanation. Later, when I found out that only about twenty women ever made it out of that camp alive…” He let out a breath. “Well, I don’t have to tell you how much that guilt still eats at me to this day.”

“I can imagine,” I commented.

“We were lucky to have even been able to get in and find our target with no issues. But luck eventually runs out, and I knew ours would, too. As we were approaching the lobby, where Viktor was still distracting the guard, I heard two gunshots come from down the hall, followed by frantic shouting from some guards. I knew I shouldn’t have looked back, that I should have kept going, but I needed to know. I saw two of my guys, Ian McKay and Michael Cranston, lying on the floor, each with a bullet hole in their heads. They were both married with children, but their families never got to bury their loved ones. We never got to hand over a body to them so they could properly say their goodbyes. They never got the closure they needed.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Dad,” Mackenzie said, clutching his hand in hers. “You gave them an opportunity to stay back, but they did what they thought was right, regardless of the consequences.”

“They weren’t the only casualties that night,” he continued, as if he didn’t even hear Mackenzie. He was in a trance, telling the story he had probably wanted to share for decades. “As we approached the border, a small group of Serbian guards gained on us, haphazardly firing their weapons. It was every man for himself, all of us trying to cross the border into the safe zone as quickly as possible.

“It was chaotic as my team members followed me across the border and concealed ourselves in the heavy forest, all of us letting out a collective sigh. I looked at Harrison, thinking he had Viktor’s wife with him, and grew confused when I saw he didn’t. Several more shots were fired and there was a loud scream. I snapped my head in the direction of the commotion, still trying to hide myself, and saw Irena fall to the ground, clutching her leg.

“The Serbs grabbed her and tied her to a tree. Viktor began firing on the guards, who returned fire. It was ten men against one and, just shy of the border, he fell. He looked at me as blood poured from his chest. His eyes are still permanently ingrained in my memory, pleading with me to finally fire my weapon. I remember feeling the metal of my gun in my hand as I raised it, knowing I was at a crossroads. We were easily outnumbered. The mission was a failure. If I engaged, I risked losing more team members. If we walked away, at least I could ensure the rest of my men would make it home to their families. So I lowered my weapon, refusing to fire. There was one final gunshot and Irena’s body went limp as she remained tied to the tree. I remember being transfixed by the sight of blood pouring from the bullet wound in her head.

“Before we returned to camp, standing with Viktor’s and Irena’s dying bodies just feet from us, we swore to each other that we would never speak about that night. According to us, McKay and Cranston died due to a friendly fire accident during a training session. Harrison even went so far as to forge body transport documents so as not to raise a question about why we were unable to produce their bodies. It wasn’t our fault if they were misplaced. We left Viktor’s and Irena’s bodies because we couldn’t bring them with us.”

“Why didn’t you carry them back to camp with you? Maybe you could have saved them?” Mackenzie asked.

“I wanted to, but I had probably already caused a bigger mess than I could even sweep up. If I brought two bodies, two
Serbians
, to the closest army medic, there would be an investigation, an inquisition, and I knew it could lead to all of us receiving a dishonorable discharge for disobeying direct orders.”

“What happened after?” I asked, still absorbing his story and failing to see a connection to the embassy fire. “Did you return home?”

“Not right away. The army still wanted intel. Sources come and go all the time in the intelligence world. Just because we lost one contact on the inside didn’t mean our mission was over. We had to keep at it, confronting and bribing any known member of the Serbian forces, at least those we determined could be bought.”

“Bought? How?” My mind started racing, recalling how this man had been accused of selling military secrets and arms to enemy forces. Was this where he got his start in betraying his country?

“We had more weapons than we knew what to do with, and some of these Serbs were more than eager to get their hands on them. So we did a trade. Their information for some guns.”

I narrowed my gaze at him, questioning him.

“I know how it sounds.” He put his hands up defensively. “But if you let me continue, I can tell you who is responsible for the misdeeds of which I am being accused, okay?”

“You mean, you know who did all of those things?” Mackenzie blurted out, her eyes growing wide.

“Yes, little bug,” he responded, his voice soft and pacifying.

“Why didn’t you come forward if you knew who was responsible?” I asked. “Why stay hidden for all those years and take the blame?”

“I didn’t put the pieces together right away. Now, looking back, it was all so obvious, but maybe I didn’t want to see it. Maybe I didn’t want to think that someone I had grown so close to could do something so spiteful as to set me up for treason, which carries the penalty of death.”