Confession - Day 47

104 - Baghdad

SEVERAL YEARS AGO “There has to be more to it then that.” I could feel the pitch of my voice rising, but there was little I could do to control it. He just wasn’t willing to listen to reason and it was extremely frustrating.

The Sergent and I been going back and forth for most of the hour after the men that had attacked had vanished–disappearing as abruptly as they’d come. I’d thought that it was something of a miracle, but he didn’t seem to agree. At least he didn’t seem to think that I was in league with the people that had attacked any more. Personally, I figured that they seemed as likely to kill me as anyone there, it just took a bit more to convince the other man.

There I was, itching to go after the men that had taken Amira, sure that the trail was growing colder with every passing minute–all of this depite the facts that neither did I have the least bit of skill in tracking a vehicle through city streets nor did I think that it would actually have been necessary in the first place. Everything was starting to come together, even if it didn’t actually make the least bit of sense yet.

The rest of our back and forth involved Amira even more directly. I was of the opinion that we should have gone after her. I still hadn’t figured out what in the world was going on, but it seemed to all revolve around the museum where I’d almost been killed, where Amira worked. At the very least, something strange was going on; I still coudn’t tell the the Sergent about Private Jackson. I didn’t even know what I would say had I been able to talk to him about it.

Contrary to what I thought though, the Sergent actually did have a good point. At least three men had been seriously injured in the attack and that was just with the first preliminary reports. I knew that one men had gone beyond injured, but the Servent knew nothing about it at the moment. And why would he risk his neck for someone that he wasn’t actually supposed to be responsible for. I could see the internal conflict going on behind his eyes between wanting to follow orders and wanting to help other people. I knew which way he was going to come down on that particular argument though.

“Sometimes coincidence is just that,” he said saying. “Coincidence.”

Respectifully sir, God has a plan for us all. There is no such thing as coincidence.”

He rainsed an eyebrow at me, but said nothing for a long moment. He seemed to be looking me up and down without actually looking at me, instead using my reflection in the window.

“Fine,” he finally said. “If you’re going to make me do it–” He took a deep breath and stood straighter. Both of us already knew what the answer would be. “–you are to remain on the compound. You are not to go looking for your Iraqi girl.

The door hadn’t even finished swinging closed before I was already packing what little I would need to go right back to the museum and finally once and for all to get some answers. .

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