Page 22 of Tango

Location: United States

Coordinates: Classified

Major Paul

Also known as Eric Noah

Undercover Mexican Cartel Member

No one said coming back from the dead would be easy, and they were right. It wasn’t.

My head felt like it had been opened and dissected piece by piece, with no part left untouched. I was asked a hundred and one questions one way and a hundred and one questions another way. I knew what they were doing, and I understood the importance of it, but it didn’t mean it hadn’t taken a tiny part of me away.

I’d seen three psychologists and still had one more to go. I had no idea at that point if I’d even passed any of their tests, but if that was what it took to get me home, I’d do it.

“B-13?” One of the men stood in the doorway and had used the only name he’d been given for me. “Right this way.”

I followed him for the fourth time down the long dark hallway. I wondered if they’d ever thought to install a couple of windows in this place. Three stripes of colored tape on the floor led you in the direction you needed to go, but there was barely enough light to make them out. When I arrived, I was given a letter, a number, and a color. That was the only thing anyone knew about me. That was how classified this place was.

“When that light turns green, you head inside.” The guy’s voice was monotone. “When you’re finished, you head out the other door and wait for me to come get you.” I nodded and took a seat on the now familiar cold metal chair and rubbed my fingers against my thumbs. I heard the light click over to green, and I took a deep breath, stood, and opened the door.

Holy shit.

We both mirrored each other’s shocked faces. Sure, I knew this moment had to come at some point, but I wasn’t prepared for it.

“Major Paul?” he stuttered then pointed to a chair like a robot, but his face was flushed with emotion.

“Doc Roberts.” His name felt good to say, and I exhaled with ten years of secrets weighing heavily on my chest. “You look good.”

“And you look…alive?” He shook his head in disbelief then removed his glasses and blinked a few times as he tried to regain his composure.

“I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you lost for words.” I chuckled, more out of nerves than anything.

“Well, it’s not every day you find out that one of your own is back in the flesh.” He pushed his glasses back on and grinned.

“How’s John?” I blurted without a thought.

“Oh, my. Well, let’s jump right into it so we can get you out of here.”

“I’d really like that.” I nodded for him to begin, not realizing how much my brother had been on my mind.

Like a wire brush to the gums, I answered the same painful questions as before about where my loyalty lay and if I was fit to be back with the team fighting the ones I’d just lived among. I was sure he added a few other questions that he just wanted to know.

“You can relax now.” He closed the file. “You did well.”

“I hope the other psychologists felt the same way.”

“They did,” he reassured me. “I glanced at their results just before I came to meet you. They all gave the green light for B-13 to return to duty.” He smiled.

“Really?” I couldn’t fight the relief that spread through me, but it was quickly replaced with nerves.

“Yes, Paul, it’s time to go home.” He clapped me on the back and made a gleeful sound.

“Yes, home,” I repeated, letting some of my defenses fall. He smiled and waved me to follow.

* * *

“Anything to drink, sir?” the flight attendant asked as she handed me a hot towel. Thankfully, I’d been on a private plane once before with Castillo. The experience hadn’t been enough to prepare me for this, but at least I didn’t look around all round-eyed. I managed to take it in stride.

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