“Okay, I guess,” he replied, knowing that his superspy contact could only be bringing bad news.
Seven was assisted into his bed by hospital staff; once he was situated and comfortable the nurse and her assistant left the room, closing the door behind them.
“I just wanted to let say thank you and how sorry I am about Al,” Harris said. “You know there are seven people alive today because of what you did over there. You saved my team, and we will never be able to repay you for that. You and Al are heroes. I wish we could tell everyone what you did, but you understand that the nature of our business prevents us from discussing our operations.”
Seven wanted to hate the man. He wanted to blame Harris and the military for putting him in a position that got his best friend killed and left him without a right leg. He wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t. It would have been easier to spend the rest of his life blaming Harris and the government for all the sadness he had experienced and would surely continue to bear. Seven was reminded of the Colonel’s policy on wartime deaths. “It’s what happens, it’s not easy and it’s always horrible, but that’s what happens. It’s what you signed up for and you must learn to accept it as a condition of employment.” Seven took a deep breath, digested his thoughts, and changed the topic of the conversation.
“So, what happens now?” he said, looking directly into Harris’s chubby face.
“Officially Al was killed and you were injured when you experienced an equipment failure during a training exercise in the Nevada desert. An official military investigation determined that faulty equipment was the cause of the crash. Al was buried with full military honors in North Carolina and his family received his death benefits.”
“And me?” Seven inquired.