Part II
Chapter 2
The blades of the helicopter sent sand flying in all directions. The bodies were lying on the floor, aligned a few feet away from the still burning embers of the camp. The boss was there, watching over as one of his men inspected the corpses. He was looking for their dog tags to identify them, even those whose face was left recognizable by the blast, as he didn't know them personally, in fact, no one really took the time to know anyone in this business. It made these kind of moments way easier.
"We're lucky the rebels were stupid enough to send their leader with a small unit like this. The General will be very pleased with your work. Even though you've destroyed most of the gear, there's gonna be less money to spend on the workforce if you know what I mean"
Cameron stood a little apart from the boss, his eyes concealed by sunglasses, paying little attention to what he was saying, his voice vaguely resonating in his head. The soldier inspecting the bodies snatched the dog tags from one of the dead mercenaries, examined it and handed it to the boss.
"MSF dog tags. One of your old mates. The world is really small huh." He chuckled. "Alright, wrap up those who were here legally, torch the rest!"
***
Cameron didn't remember much of the evening when he woke up in his hotel bed the day after. He had vague memories of the flight over the desert in the sunset. The boss talking about the crucial nature of the mission, and the sizable reward it would get him, with regular mentions of how pleased the general would be. He remembered distinctly when his boss handed him the cash, the general who had hired them was there too, not in his uniform, or at least not in his current uniform; he was wearing his red beret from his time in Algeria. He did not remember either how the dog tags of the other former MSF soldier found themselves on his end table. He sat on his bed and looked at them for a while. One of them was bent, both were partially blackened, but the name could still be read easily: Saleem Kebir. The name did not ring a bell, but these were unmistakably from MSF. He tried to remember the faces of those who used to live on the mother base with him, these people that he did not know by name but who he saw regularly. There was a fair chance he had already seen him, the base was like a small village, but people change a lot in eight years.
It all made him feel strange. But before he had time to think about it any more, he heard the phone ring and he remembered that the boss had talked about one last job for the general. He tucked the dog tags into his pocket and picked up the phone.