“The longer it takes to get Burke convicted and shipped off to Leavenworth, the greater the odds become that this situation presents serious problems.”
Tracy frowned at her reflection in the mirror. t situation could present serious problems? They could be talking about the press, budget funding-anything.
“May I be frank, sir?” O’Dell asked.
“Of course,” Hackett lazily drawled.
“I’ve been passed over for light colonel, and the Phoenix board failed to get me promoted last year. Next year, I have to retire-unless I get RIF orders before then.”
Tracy listened intently. The Phoenix board made special attempts to get a select few promoted who had been passed over for promotion on the first go-around, and Reduction in Forces orders now were being handed down in record numbers. At the moment, no one was safe from them except pilots and doctors. The latter were still being offered incentive bonuses to stay in the service. But even with those bonuses, their pay lagged a long way behind that of comparable private employers.
Hackett cleared his throat. “I know your concerns about getting tagged, Gus. We’ve talked about it, and I warned you to prepare.”
“I have. My house is paid for, I’ve built up a respectable savings account, and a mutual fund IRA,. that will supplement my retirement check. I won’t have to alter my standard of living at all-provided I get my retirement check. But if this Burke business blows up in my face, it’ll screw me out of my retirement benefits.”
“What Burke business?” Hackett asked, clearly posturing.
“The exercise, Colonel.”
“What about it?” Hackett’s voice went hard. “Burke disobeyed a direct order, Major. He murdered my men. That’s his responsibility, not yours, and certainly not mine.”
Aside from his firm tone, Hackett sounded baffled. As if he didn’t understand how Burke’s actions could cause O’Dell problems. Tracy was baffled, too. At face value, she sensed Hackett’s sincerity, but her instincts told her O’Dell hadn’t been a willing participant in some aspect of that exercise. He seemed … almost drafted.
if he had changed the orders as Burke had said, then neither Intel nor the OSI would give a tinker’s damn whether or not O’Dell had acted willingly. He’d acted. That alone would land him in Leavenworth.
And she also sensed Hackett, if involved, was far too ambitious to let himself become exposed. He would Fee to it Burke took the fall so none of his assistants would be exposed. Their exposure would taint him, and that the ambitious Hackett would never tolerate.
“Keener came to the chamber today, asking questions,” O’Dell said.
Tracy’s stomach furled, and she could almost see sweat beading above O’Dell’s upper lip. “I think assigning her was, er, shortsighted, Sir.”
“General Nestler is never shortsighted, Major.”
“But why her? Christ, Colonel, she’s an idealist.”
“Aren’t we all?” Hackett responded. “If we worked in the private sector, we could make more money and have less demanding-and certainly less interrupted lives. We could avoid the dangers inherent to our jobs. Yet we choose the military life. Why? We’re idealists. Of course she’s an idealist. She’s one of us. We’re all idealists, or we wouldn’t be here, Major.”
“She’s pro-Force too, Sir,” a new voice added. “Colonel Jackson was emphatic about that.” . Who was talking? Was it Lieutenant Carver?
Connie had told Tracy that Major O’Dell expected the lieutenant to be at the meeting-in the shadows, near Hackett.
“Yes, she is, Lieutenant.”
So it was Carver. Tracy twisted on the bed, folded her knees to sit Indian-style. All this time she’d thought being an idealist was a slur, but if Hackett’s comments were a fair indicator, it was actually considered an essential asset.
“She’s also openly stated her belief that Burke is guilty,” Carver said. “And she’s got a lot to lose by rattling chains, being up for promotion and Career Status selection.”
Hackett interceded. “I’m sure the general felt she could handle this job or he wouldn’t have requested her. This is a good opportunity for her to prove herself.”
“Don’t you think, Sir, that this case could do more than any recommendations to get her promoted and selected?”
“Yes, Carver, I do. And if she looks good, then her superior officers look good.”
A creak sounded. Tracy recognized it as Hackett rocking back in his seat. “Gus?”
“Sir?” O’Dell sounded hesitant.
“Are you trying to tell me something happened during this exercise that could cause Captain Keener to stumble?”
The colonel hadn’t raised his voice, but his tone was no less intimidating for that. It gave Tracy cold chills, and she rubbed at her arms.
“Nothing that I’m aware of, Sir.”
“Colonel,” Lieutenant Carver interceded. “If Major O’Dell feels Captain Keener is a potential problem, perhaps we should contact Burke and appeal to his sense of duty and honor.”
“No.” Hackett barely gave the words time to travel to before vetoing the suggestion. “That would imply something that shouldn’t have occurred had taken place.”
“Burke’s not yet being adjudged is a loose end, Colonel,” O’Dell said. “The project goes up to Congress for funding in less than a week. Odds would be better if he’d been convicted.”
“That’s an unreasonable Expectations Hackett said, then paused a long moment.
“Without that funding,” Carver interjected, “General Nestler isn’t likely to support your Pacific assignment. It’s a crucial factor in your career plan, Sir.”
“I’m aware of my career plans, Lieutenant.” Anger ripped through Hackett’s voice.
“If Burke can’t be adjudged before the project goes up for funding,” O’Dell said, “he’s outlived his usefulness. Wouldn’t you say so, sir?”
Tracy jerked away from the pillow-, and sat straight up, plank stiff. Murder? Could they actually, by God, be discussing the possibility of murdering Burke?
“That’s not our decision to make. A judge and jury will decide when Burke dies.”
Not when, Colonel. If. If Burke dies. Tracy grimaced, though relieved. And what project were they discussing?
“As for the funding,” Hackett went on, “I think the captain might be useful.”
In her mind, Tracy saw the colonel lighting one of his cigars, despite the building being designated a smoke-free facility. Only General Nestler would dare to object.
“No,” Hackett said, sounding as if he were exhaling a stream of smoke. “I think our needs would be better met by taking a different tack with Captain Adam Burke.”
“What different tack?” Carver asked, sounding as puzzled as Tracy felt.
Had Hackett done something wrong, or not?
” An alternative, men,” the colonel said. “An alternative. Let’s meet at the club for an early dinner to discuss it.”
“Yes, sir,” Carver said. “You have an Intel briefing in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Hackett grunted. “This meeting is over, gentlemen. Dismissed.”
Tracy listened to the shuffle of chairs, and then the absence of sound. What exactly had she just heard?
Would Adam -Burke have understood the conversation any better than she had?.
The kicker was, even if she repeated it and ased Adam, she wouldn’t be able to believe what he told her. He was fighting for his life. The man would say anything.
Even as she thought that, she doubted it was true. Why, she had no idea. Maybe because of those emotional inflections in his tone when he had called to warn her of the threats, survivor to survivor. Maybe because he had worried about her safety enough to call at all. Or maybe because she was feeling a little less than nearly satisfied, happy, and content, and the man was playing her emotions like a fiddle.
Just after dusk the next day, Tracy received the call.
Standing in her garden, knee-deep in muddy jeans and fragrant rose clippings, and sucking on a finger she’d pricked on a thorn, she snatched up the remote phone from a wicker table and answered with a snarled, “Hello.”
“Captain Keener, this is Sergeant Maxwell at the facility. I’m sorry to bother you at home, ma’am.”
Burke’s guard. Tracy crooked her shoulder and neck to hold the phone at her ear, then swatted at a mosquito buzzing her cheek. “No problem, Sergeant. What can I do for you?”
“There’s no easy way to say this, but I, um, thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.” Dread laced his tone, chilling her blood to ice. “It’s about Adam Burke. There’s been a fire here at the facility, ma’am. He’s … dead.”
Chapter 7.
Tracy listened to what Sergeant Maxwell had to say, which unfortunately wasn’t much. Details on the fire were, as yet, sketchy. She muttered something inane, and then got off the phone, her head whirling, her stomach revolting, and made it to the garden’s wicker chair before her knees gave out. Adam Burke dead?
Good God, he couldn’t be dead.
Numb all over, she stared sightlessly at the leaves rustling in the night breeze. How could he be dead? How could Maxwell not have gotten Adam out of solitary confinement before he had died of smoke inhalation?
Had it been smoke inhalation? Or-oh, please, God, no!-had he burned?
Maxwell hadn’t actually said, had he? God’s truth, she’d been too stunned, she couldn’t remember.
You dig too deeply, you’re going to ruffle feathers. You ruffle too many feathers, and you’re going to wind up short a defendant. Within forty-eight hours of you nosing around like a little puppy, O’Dell and Hackett will see to it I’m dead.
Shudders stormed through her. Hugging herself, she dug her fingertips into her fleshy biceps and rocked back and forth on her seat. Adam had predicted this, and he’d been right. What if he had been right about the incident, too? What if he had told her the truth? She had pushed O’Dell for answers to questions he wouldn’t want asked about changing Adam’s orders. But had Adam’s rendition of the events been honest?
He worried about you enough to warn you. That tells you something about the man.
It did. A lot about the man. And that grain of truth in his story swelled to a pebble.
The possibility that Adam might have been honest had her temples pounding. Maybe he hadn’t been imaginative or creative. Maybe there was a huge coverup going on. Unthinkable, incredible, but maybe Adam was innocent.
Dying seemed too steep a price to pay to convince her of it, but she’d bet her bars he would go nearly that far to prove his point.
Within forty-eight hours … will see to it, I’m dead.
God help her, maybe she had gotten him killed.
Blame lay heavy on her shoulders, more oppressive than the walk through Cell Block D. Why had only Adam died in the fire? Maxwell had told her only the solitary confinement block had been affected.
Only Adam’s block.
An eerie feeling niggled into her anguish. Had the fire been accidental, or intentional?
She had to know. She locked up the house and grabbed her car keys.
By the time she drove to the facility, she was an emotional wreck and dead certain she had been directly responsible for Adam Burke’s death. He had expressly warned her that her blatant inquiries would get him killed. Why hadn’t she listened? Been more cautious, more discreet?
Had he been killed by Hackett and O’Dell? Had this been Hackett’s enigmatic alternative?
The idea seemed absurd. Hackett’s star was on the rise. He was Nestler’s fair-haired boy, and according to Janet, he was about to be assigned a powerful command in the Pacific theater. O’Dell was on the way out, a scant step from retirement. At this point, he’d be a fool to risk his pension. Yet if the incentive were strong enough, would he consider it foolish?
What incentive could hold the appeal of his pension, benefits, and financial security? What could appeal enough to risk a long stint in the U.S. Military Barracks at Leavenworth?
Unable to think of an answer, she skirted the green and red fire trucks parked outside the facility’s main entrance. Their spinning red lights cut sharply through the darkness, swirling godawful color on the carnage. Highintensity floodlights were focused directly on the building. Firefighters battled the blaze with their hoses, but smoke and flames still engulfed the solitary confinement block and belched roiling black clouds into the night sky.
Tracy stared at the charred tan brick, the molten and twisted lumps of what had been vinyl windows, the broken glass panes now soot-stained black. Adam had been in there. He had died in there.
Light from the fire crossed with that from the highintensity lamps and illuminated Sergeant Maxwell, standing near an oak. Shock shone in his eyes.
Tracy approached him,‘certain he would be more receptive to her questions than the unit commander. He’d be more apt to find a way to blame the fire on Adam Burke.
She couldn’t fault the commander. He had to have someone to blame. In situations where property was damaged, resources were lost, and people died, everyone always had to blame someone. If the unit commander couldn’t offer up someone else, then blame would be assigned to him. If even remotely human, he would move mountains to avoid that.
. Anxious and uneasy, Maxwell spotted her. His expression tightened.
She walked past a knot of gaping spectators over to him. “Thank. you for calling me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His face was smudged black, and the pungent smell of smoke clung to him.
Burning ash lifted sparks into the air and then flamed out. “Do you know what happened?”
He looked to a uniformed fireman reeking of authority for silent permission. On his sleeve, Tracy saw a “Chief” patch. He nodded, and Maxwell swung his gaze back to her, wiping his smutty forehead with a once-white handkerchief. Soot streaked across his brow. “We’re not sure how the fire started,” he said. “The inspectors think it was an electrical short in the airconditioning circuit. That’s confidential, ma’am.”
“Of course.” Smoke still billowed out of the building and the investigators already had deduced its cause? Odd, yet with advanced technology, not impossible. “The whole facility has central airconditioning. Why did the fire affect only this block?”
“Each block has a separate unit.”
“And only this one shorted out?”
“That’s the inspectors’ preliminary findings, yes, ma’am.” A pointed look lit in Maxwell’s eyes.