Regardless, the first raid didn’t go well. The Men with Guns were an eager, young bunch. The oldest guy was my age. Dominique explained that these were the boys NATO needed to train up a bit more, and they were the best she could recruit without divulging more information on the mission to the Powers That Be. I was fine with that, as exuberance was more important than experience for this task. No one in NATO had the experience required for this kind of work anyway. So it worked out for both Dominique and I. I had the muscle I needed, and her raw recruits would get valuable field training . . . assuming they survived, of course. The most senior guy on the squad, Darius Allen, was a boulder-sized man with a Texas drawl and a baby face. Although he had the appearance of an overgrown teenager, he had hard eyes that looked like they had been transplanted from a Vietnam War vet who had seen some things you wouldn’t believe. The moment I introduced myself as team leader, he just looked at me with what I can best describe as a mix of disdain and disappointment, and after that he wore that sour face every time I saw him.
