He strode down the sidewalk to the street. His driver opened the limo’s door, and Paul ducked inside. But even when the door shut and he disappeared behind the dark tinted glass, she felt his anger at her lingering on the porch. Strong, almost smothering her. And it frightened her in a way nothing about Adam Burke ever had.
Leaning against the doorway she watched the limo glide down the street. When you play with fire, you get burned. Had Paul referred to her, or to Adam?
The cold Tracy thought she’d been getting turned out to be the flu.
She sat at her desk, wishing she had stayed at home that morning, wishing her head would stop throbbing, and her stomach would stop revolting. The only saving grace was her certainty that she would have to feel better to die.
Clammy, miserable, she cleared her desk, then buzzed Janet to tell her she was skating out.
Ignoring the intercom, Janet burst into Tracy’s office, her eyes so energetic they threatened to throw off sparks. “Sergeant Phelps just called.”
Her stomach began rumbling again. Tracy fought it. God,‘but she hated throwing up with a passion. “Who is Sergeant Phelps?”
“He’s a friend of Sergeant Maxwell’s who works at the hospital in the emergency room.”
“Okay.” She’d talked with the head of the ER, but he’d told her nothing that would help. Woozy, she resisted the urge to rest her head on her cool desk. “,Why is this significant?”
“Phelps said he overheard you discussing Burke with his boss in the ER, and what his boss told you worried Phelps. So he talked it over with Maxwell, who vouched for you and told Phelps to call and tell you about it.”
“Tell me about what? What worried Phelps?” Nothing about the meeting with Phelps’s boss should have aroused concern, much less worry. It’d been an exercise in futility. But maybe Phelps knew where Adam had been brought in from and could resolve the dispute. Adam said Area 14, O’Dell said Area 13.
“Phelps wouldn’t give me any specifics. He said when it’s safe to meet you, he’ll call.”
What was Tracy supposed to make of that? So far, he’d told her nothing, except that he had overheard her conversation with his boss. “Fine,” she said, again fighting the urge to throw up.
“Unless you’ve taken up smoking pot, you’ve got a fever. Your eyes are glazed.”
“It’s the flu.”
“Well, what the hell are you doing here? Trying to get me sick? Go home and go to bed.”
Tracy grabbed her purse. “I’m on my way.”
chapter 13.
When it’s safe to meet I’ll call. When it’s square … I’ll call When it’s safe … Curled up in bed, the tip of a thermometer sticking out of her mouth, Tracy remembered Janet telling her about Sergeant Phelps, the hospital worker friend of Maxwell’s who had called with information on Adam’s case. The puzzling message Phelps had forwarded to Tracy replayed over and over again in her mind. When it’s safe to meet, I’ll call. Safe for what?
The phone rang.
Tracy pulled the thermometer out of her mouth, read it-101-and considered just letting the phone ring. She’d gotten three crank calls already this morning, and it wasn’t yet noon, But it could be Janet phoning with word from Sergeant Phelps. Tracy tapped the TV remote’s Mute button and mumbled into the phone, sounding as godawful as she felt. “Hello.”
“Keener, this is Colonel Jackson.”
He felt threatened; she could hear it in his voice. Bloody hell “Yes, sir.”
“I just got off the phone with Colonel Hackett.”
Oh, boy. She grabbed the covers and wadded them in her fist.
“He was not happy, which means I am not happy.”
Which means soon I won’t be happy. She rolled on her side, barely resisting the urge to bury her head under her pillow.
“Colonel Hackett is threatening to have you courtmartialed.”
Courtmartialed? For going to a funeral? Tracy looked at the empty pillow beside her and saw Burke’s Personnel file. His photo lay on top. Don’t believe it, fluff. He’s bluffing.
“According to Hackett, General Nestler’s pet venture goes to Congress for funding in a few days. I can’t stress too much the importance of that contract being funded, Captain. The project will impact not only the military but the civilian community. It’s a matter of national security, and I heartily recommend you avoid any further action that could jeopardize it, or Hackett won’t have to courtmartial you. I’ll do it myself.”
This was the second time allusions had been made that connected Project Duplicity and Adam. First Ted, now Colonel Jackson. “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t see the connection between this project and Adam-”
“Of course you don’t. Get your idealistic head out of the clouds, I Captain. Your zeal is commendable, but your shortsightedness is appalling. Bad press makes obtaining that funding doubtful. Cease and desist all interference now.”
The connection was the fear of bad press keeping Duplicity from being funded? “Sir-”
“Shut up, Keener,” Jackson shouted, losing any semblance of composure. His breath hissed through the phone line. “I understand your position. I understand your views on duty and honor. Hell, I share most of them. We’ve talked about this before, but it’s clear you aren’t in the loop. Accept it. And hold these thoughts. Burke cost the Air Force millions. He stained the reputation of every man and woman wearing a uniform. He elected to forget his pledge to his country to serve and protect. He put his own safety first. He killed four men. And he got exactly what he deserved.”
“He deserved to be judged,” she said, tight-lipped. “He deserves the truth.”
“He was judged, and he got the truth,” Jackson shot back. “Burke was guilty, Keener. I believe it. General Nestler, Colonel Hackett, and Major O’Dell also believe it. If we’re all convinced, then that should be enough to convince you. You’re a junior officer with limited knowledge on this. My last word on this is a question. Do you have the best interests of this country at heart?”
Tracy squeezed her eyes shut. Jackson was cold, logical, and convincing. But he seemed too cold and logical to be honest. Her nerves on edge, her instincts hummed. She lifted Adam Burke’s picture, heard his “fluff,” and again closed her eyes. “You know I do, Colonel.”
“Fine,” Jackson said. “Screw up again, and I promise I’ll come down on you so hard you’ll think you’re experiencing the wrath of God.” Jackson slammed down the phone.
Tracy jumped. Her ear ringing, she rested her chin on the butt of the receiver and stared into Adam Burke’s photographed eyes. She’d made a vow. Now, the value of her word would be tested.
Jackson would crush her. Did she trust herself, the system, and her convictions and keep seeking the truth, or did she fold under pressure like the gutless wonders?
Expand your thinking, Tracy. “Faith and hope shall flood even the darkest crevice, and the truth shall spill forth like sunlight, and shine. That’s why you’re here, Tracy. You’re Adam Burke’s sun …”
Remembering Chaplain Rutledge’s words, Tracy lifted her chin and spoke to the photograph. “I won’t fold, Adam. No matter how rough or dark it gets, I won’t fold.
Janet breezed into Tracy’s house through the back door, carrying a white paper sack. “I come bearing food-and advice.”
Tracy swiped at her red nose with a tissue, shut the kitchen door, and tightened the belt of her heavy flannel robe. God, but she couldn’t get warm. Her fever had to be raging. “Forget the food. My stomach’s at war, and it’s losing big. What advice?”
“Sit down while I nuke this chicken soup.” Mindful of her nails, which today were lacquered red with a gold star tipping each one, Janet rummaged through the kitchen drawers, and pulled out a spoon. “You look like hell.”
“I feel worse.” Tracy pulled out a spindle-backed chair and sat down at the table. The sun slanting in through the window above the sink had her squinting and finally figuring out why Janet was a fanatic about her nails. When in Intel, she couldn’t wear them long or decorated. She couldn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. Intel people strove to fade into the woodwork. The nails were Janet’s locket: her symbol that she now had the freedom to choose.
Janet poured the soup into a bowl, splashing a little on the white-tile counter, then slid the bowl into the microwave and set the timer. When it started humming, she fisted her hands at her sides and her expression turned thunderous. “I know I said I wouldn’t, and getting involved isn’t any smarter today than it was before, but if you’re still interested, I want to help with Adam’s case.”
That, Tracy never would have expected. “Why?”
“Seeing how the JAGS reacted to your going to Burke’s funeral … well, it hit me.”
“What hit you?” Tracy asked, totally confused. “You expected them to be upset.”
Anger and resentment burned in Janet’s eyes. “It hit me that Burke might not be guilty. He probably is, but he might not be. He might just have been doing his job, like all the rest of us. And if this happened to him, then it could happen to someone else. It could happen to me.”
“Yes, it could,” Tracy admitted. “I need you, but I’ve got to warn you. Helping me won’t win you any popularity contests. I’ve hit more blocks and brick walls than there are at the facility, and I’ve been issued direct orders to ‘close the file and let this nightmare end’ by O’Dell and Jackson. I expect looking for the truth will probably cost me a promotion, status selection, and my job. It could cost you yours, too.”
“If I lose my job for finding out the truth, then screw it. I don’t want to work there, anyway.”
Satisfaction warmed Tracy inside. But Janet couldn’t walk into this without knowing everything. “You should know too that Adam left everything he had to me.”
Her eyes stretched wide. “Whatever for?”
“He thought that unless he was one-eighty out, I’d need to disappear. In fact, he said you would help me. That I shouldn’t trust anyone except you.”
The?” Surprise flickered through Janet’s eyes. “Why would he suggest me?”
“I suppose because you’d worked together. He knew your capabilities and he knew I trusted you. He said you would know how to make a disappearance happen.”
“True, but he also knew I thought he was guilty as hell. I’d think he’d suggest someone who believed he was innocent.”
Tracy lifted a hand. “Such as?”
“Mmm, good point.”
Regret laced Tracy’s voice. “He knew I thought he was guilty, too.”
“And he still tried to protect you?” Tracy nodded. “Don’t you find that odd?”
“Very odd, unless he was innocent.” Tracy tilted her head. “Well, still willing to help?”
Janet paused a second, digesting, then slowly nodded.
I’ll m in.”
Tracy smiled. Janet knew the risks and was willing to sacrifice for them. Maybe the whole world wasn’t going down the tubes. Maybe a few people were left who still cared about more than just themselves. “Grab a pen. There on the counter, by the grocery list.”
When Janet appeared ready, Tracy reeled off a list of instructions. “Find out what Adam was wearing when the excavation team pulled him out of Area Thirteen. Verify it was Thirteen not Fourteen. Begin running down any chemical gear requisitions-alarms and personal protective gear-and see if you can get a copy of the readiness exercise tape, or at least a transcript of it. Adam said Home Base acknowledged his radio transmission with a “Roger, Alpha One’ response.”
Janet tapped the point of her pencil against the pad. “Anyone in particular at Environmental you want me to check with on the requisitions? And what about the timing? A week either side of the exercise?”
hard and “A week should be fine.” Tracy swallowed debated. If she told Janet whom Adam had accused, she might bail out, and Tracy desperately needed her expertise. But if Janet was going to bail, better that she do it now. “And, no. No one special to contact. But several special someones to check on.” Being totally honest was the right thing. Risky, but right. “Check on Major Gus O’Dell. Lieutenant Carver. Colonel Hackett.” Tracy’s voice went whisper-soft. “And General Nestler.”
“Nestler? ” Janet’s jaw gaped. “Oh, dear God.”
Tracy waited a moment for Janet’s shock to settle. A swift current of tension permeated the room. Feeling it down to her bones, Tracy stiffened and waited.
Janet stared at her a long minute. When she wadded a bit of her gray silk skirt in her fist, Tracy knew that the possibility of the two of them having to go up against the big guns hadn’t escaped Janet. Resolve slid down over her face like a mask. “I’ll get started right away.”
“Great.” Tracy almost sagged in relief,. She wasn’t cut out for covert work, and she’d have to be a lot more discreet than before. Adam had died. She didn’t want another death on her hands. Janet’s, or her own.
Janet reached for the phone, checked for a tap. It was clean. “Go take a bath. You7ll feel better. I’ll make a couple of calls and reheat the soup when you’re done.”
“Sounds good.” Tracy left the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, when Tracy returned to the kitchen, Janet had gathered a lot of data. “Any word on the Home Base tape?”
“Nothing conclusive,” Janet said. “Environmental verified it. There is a thirty-second blank spot.”
That could have been Burke’s transmission and Home Base’s “Roger, Alpha One” response. “Was the blank spot before the bomb was dropped?”
“Yes, just before it. And there’s more,” Janet said. “Environmental called back a few minutes ago. Brad Meager, the guy who handles chemical requisitions, says an alarm had been reported faulty and sent out for repair the day of the Alpha team incident.”
The hairs on Tracy’s neck stood on end. “Who reported it?”
“Gus O’Dell,” Janet said. “The alarm could have been diverted from repair to him.”
Implications were building, but they weren’t conclusive proof. “It could have been,” Tracy agreed. “But was it?”
That was the question.they had to answer to have the first bit of concrete proof Adam hadn’t lied.
The microwave’s bell chimed. Janet removed the steaming bowl of soup, set it on the table, and then passed Tracy a napkin and the spoon. “You eat, I’ll talk.”
Just the smell had Tracy’s stomach grumbling a protest. “I don’t think I can.”
“Do it anyway,” Janet said. “Trust me, honey, you’re going to need the strength.” She headed back to the counter and put on a pot of coffee. “By the way, who’s driving that blue sedan parked across the street?”