She helped him break up the branches and build a fire. In a few minutes, a blaze crackled merrily. They sat side by side on an overturned filing cabinet and took turns feeding wood into the fire. When a decent bed of coals had formed and they’d laid some of the thicker pieces of wood on the blaze, he leaned back against the block wall behind him and closed his eyes.

“Tell me about Abu Haddad,” Sherri said.

“He’s one of the youngest tribal leaders in the whole Taliban. In his midthirties as far as we can tell. Lacks the wisdom of age and thinks he’s immortal.”

“Sounds like a SEAL.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m fully aware of just how mortal I am, thank you very much.”

“You’ve also spent a decade in the field and had some close calls.”

“Hence my concern about the youngsters being sent over to deal with Haddad.”

“Have a little faith in them. They’ve been exhaustively trained by you and guys like you.”

But was it enough? Were the boys really ready to face a foe like Haddad? Had he just sent his brothers off to die? Griffin fell silent, brooding at the fire.

Sherri prompted, “You were telling me about Haddad.”

“Right.” It was an effort, but he picked up the thread of conversation. “He’s smart, mean, and ambitious. Has taken out most of his rivals and is fond of genocide. When he takes over a village, he wipes out everyone. Including women, kids, even the damned goats. The locals are terrified of him.”

“That must make getting intel on him hard.”

“Makes it damned near impossible. That’s why this sighting of him is such a big deal.”

“What are the odds it’s a trap?” Sherri asked. “He doesn’t sound like the kind of man who allows himself to be seen by surveillance drones unless he wants to be seen.”

“It’s always possible that any mission we’re sent on is an ambush. We train for that eventuality.”

“You don’t sound entirely convinced,” Sherri replied.

“I wish I was there to look out for my guys.” He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

A crack of thunder made him jump, and they both laughed. He counted in his head between the next flash of lightning and its accompanying rumble of thunder. The night was dark, the rain a steady drumming of sound on the leaves. The trees beyond the building were black and slick. The clean smell of wet grass calmed him deep down in his soul.

Tomorrow would bring another battle, but for tonight, his soul could rest.

“Storm’s a mile or more away,” he observed.

“It’s nice, sitting here, listening to the rain like this. It’s cold, though.”