Filed to story: American Sniper: The Last Round (Carl Oliver) Book PDF Free
“He sure is.”
“Some kind of beagle?”
“Beagle and something.”
“Well, anyway. Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
Carl unlocked the gate and Mike ran to his hut like the obedient creature he was. Carl took the colonel inside.
They sat down at Carl’s table and the man pulled out a well-thumbed copy of Carl’s report.
“I don’t mind telling you, this is an excellent piece of work.”
Carl nodded.
“You might be interested in knowing that independently we came to many of the same conclusions. We’ve also had some further information on Solaratov. We think we have a very solid sighting outside of Huarte City in Cuba. Now why would that be significant? The reason is that it’s a swampy region whose weather and proximity to the sea and humidity tendencies almost exactly match New Orleans’s. So they may be prepping the shot down there, rather than, as you guessed, trying to put together a range up here.”
“I see.”
“But we agree that almost certainly they’re going to go for him in New Orleans.”
Carl just nodded.
Then he said, “So are you going to let me be on the rifle that day?”
The colonel looked him in the eye. Carl respected a man who gave you the bad news straight up, no bullshit, no fake sorry.
“No. No way. Forget about it.”
Carl said nothing.
“Higher people have decided. He has to be taken alive, discreetly, and debriefed; he’s a treasure chest of information. It’s more than personalities, it’s politics and policies. It’s duty.”
Carl nodded.
“I know you want a crack at him. We all do. But we have to be professional. We have to see him as an asset. It’s not about justice or anything. It’s about doing what’s necessary.”
“This johnny isn’t going to be so easy to nab clean.”
“We’ll let the FBI and the Secret Service worry about that. They’re pros.”
“So, I’m out, that what you’re saying?”
“You’ve done your part. We needed you. And now that time has passed.”
Carl grunted. It was sort of like Vietnam. Thank you and fuck you.
“There’ll be a check.”
“The money isn’t necessary. It was an honor.”
“It’s not a lot. We didn’t want to insult you. It’s a month’s pay at gunnery sergeant rate.”
“Fine. Much appreciated.”
“Oliver, when I walk out this door, that has to be it. It has to be left alone, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve taken a chance, a big chance, telling you this much. You’ve learned things no private citizen has ever learned. We have to be able to trust you.”
“Sure,” said Carl.
“Oliver, if you show up in that area with a rifle, if you do something stupid to get at this Solaratov, you could blow the whole thing. You could get yourself killed, you could mess up our whole operation, you could let this bastard get away. We expect your discipline, your best help.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that means just sitting tight. Do you understand? Can you be professional?”
“I’ve always been a professional, sir.”
There was another curious pause in the conversation. The colonel looked away, clearly troubled. Carl just stared at him, conscious of the slow tick of time, the settling of atoms in the room. He needed a drink. First time in years, he had the extraordinary urge to open a bottle of Tennessee drinking whiskey and float away on its torrents, to drift and see where he ended up next morning or next week or whatever, in whose bed, in what prison.
Shit.
“But I don’t-“