She spotted the Caprice. Two rows over, down three cars. Not that she honestly expected to discover that there had been signs of mitosis in the men. But just in case … Odds were lukewarm at best, she figured, grabbing a note tucked under the wiper blade on her windshield. “What now?”
She checked her tires. They were between the lines painted on the asphalt. Uneasy, she slid into the front seat and then read the note, typed on clean white paper:
IT’S ARRANGED.
BURKE AND YOU DIE.
“It’s arranged?” Tracy stared at the paper. Her hand began to shake and goose pimples peppered her flesh. Was this a threat … or a warning?
Four calls this morning from clients dropping her as their attorney because she was defending Burke. Reporters haranguing her by fax and phone. Three drunken or vulgar phone threats from crazies. This note had to be a threat. And it had happened here, no less. On base. Had the whole world gone nuts?
No. No, it was anger. Frustrated outrage. They wanted her scared.
Well, they had succeeded. But she had given them that power over her. She wasn’t one for taking risks, and that made her an easy victim. She hated being anyone’s victim. Matthew had taught her that lesson, and Paul had reinforced it. o She couldn’t control anyone else’s actions, but she could control her own. She could refuse to give them the satisfaction of frightening her and take back her power. Fear could be healthy and keep her alert, but terror would stifle her, and being stifled would get her hurt. Operating in Intel’s unfamiliar -world, she had enough liabilities already. She didn’t need any more. And why she had the strongest urge to run to Adam Burke for protection, she couldn’t imagine. God knew that no man alive could be more dangerous than Burke.
The hospital parking lot was jammed. It was always jammed, on every base she’d been assigned to, or been sent to TDY. Though when on temporary duty, she seldom drove her car.
Tracy started looking for an empty space at the closest end of the lot, driving row by row. Whoever said a person could depend only on death and taxes obviously wasn’t military. For them, there were death, taxes, personal crises at home while away on missions, orders to move to a new base at the worst possible time-usually right after finishing the last of the remodeling of the current home and full parking lots at the commissary, the base exchange, and at the hospital.
On the third round of driving up and down.the rows, she finally got lucky, though she had to wait for a black Volvo to vacate the slot-and it was located on the south forty, a long hike from the seven-floor building that was still rain-splotched from the morning shower.
The walk to the building seemed short compared to the one inside it. Down a long corridor, over to elevator B, which operated only on one side of the building, up to the third floor, then back across the mammoth building and down yet another long corridor.
By the time she reached Steven Kane’s floor, her, arches screamed, protesting against her black pumps. Buzzing saws and pounding hammers muffled the voices of the people shuffling through the maze, and Sheetrock dust tickled Tracy’s nose. She cursed the construction still going on in the building. It should have been completed in May and, though September threatened, the fourth floor remained totally out of commission and parts of the other floors were still roped off with neon-orange banners and floor cones.
Finally, her winding through the bowels of the beast paid off. She tapped on Steven Kane’s office door, swearing she would hike back to the car in bare feet. If a senior officer chewed her ass for being out of uniform, so be it. She’d get chewed in stocking-feet comfort.
The door opened. A man who fit Janet’s dreamy description stepped out, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and a gray silk tie. The colors were wrong for him. Forest-green would have been a better choice. Then again, if he looked any better, he would have to be classified as a lethal weapon and kept in the vault under lock and key. Janet might even keep him around two weeks. “Dr. Kane?”
“Yes.” Tucking his wire-frame glasses into his pocket, he came through the doorway, forcing Tracy to step aside, then headed down the corridor.
“I’m Tracy Keener,” she said to his back, following him. “I’ve been assigned-”
“I know. You’re representing Burke.” Kane didn’t slow down, much less stop to glance back at her. “Sorry, I’m in a hurry.”
“One question, please.” Tracy grimaced. He knew she intended to breach protocol and he clearly wasn’t eager to be a willing participant.
In front of the elevator, she stepped between him and the door, blocking him from entering it. “The men on Burke’s team. Did you see any evidence of mitosis in them?”
Kane reached around her and depressed the down button. “No comment.”
Catching a whiff of his citrus cologne, she fought the urge to sneeze. “I’m not asking you anything that isn’t documented and available to me,” she persisted. Maybe if she had brought Janet along, he would have been more receptive. She had a way with men alien to Tracy.
The elevator bell chimed and the door slid open. Kane stepped around her, and then inside it. “Look, I’m sorry, Captain. But if you want any information on this, you’re going to have to get it from Major O’Dell.”
Gus O’Dell, Colonel Hackett’s assistant. The man Burke said had issued him the change of orders. Tracy stuck out her arm to block the elevator door from closing. “Why?”
“Off the record?”
She nodded.
“Command’s issued me a gag order. Major O’Dell is over at the simulator. You’re welcome to ask him why I’m gagged, Captain. I didn’t bother.”
She didn’t imagine Dr. Kane would ask. Rule of thumb was, if you need to be told, you will be. If not, just follow orders. “Which simulator?” She knew of four on base.
“The one for gas mask and chemical training.”
The gas chamber. Figured. “Thank you, Dr. Kane.”
He gave her that melt-your-heart smile Janet had talked about. It had no effect on Tracy whatsoever. She couldn’t stop hearing Adam Burke’s “fluff,” or seeing his mocking gray eyes.
Halfway to the gaschamber simulator, Tracy accepted that her only hope of finding the truth was to somehow tap into Gus O’Dell and Colonel Hackett. Technically, investigating them was unethical. It could land her in serious trouble. They were superior officers with unblemished records-at least, according to their Personnel files. Did they have Intel files?
Now, exploring that would be risking even more problems. Besides, even if they had Intel files, there would be nothing of value in them or the OSI would have charged and arrested them.
Frustrated, Tracy passed a slow-moving Lincoln, and then steered around a slow curve. There had to be a way to find the truth. She slapped on her blinker and hung a left turn at the credit union, not knowing what to do or how to do it. Being outside her sphere of expertise had her about ready to gnash her teeth.
Janet would know.
She would know what was needed and how to get it done. Tracy waited for a white van to pass her, then made a U-turn and headed back to her office.
When Tracy walked in, Janet was sitting at her computer, keying in a brief. A lot about Janet mystified Tracy, especially her working as a legal assistant when she had such impressive credentials. She said she liked the work and the life-style she could live while doing it. Janet did seem happy, and that’s, what mattered most, so to each his own. “Can you spare me a second?”
“Sure.” Swiveling away from the computer, Janet stood up and smoothed her sleek skirt.
Tracy entered her office, then closed the door behind Janet. “I need your help.”
“I’m already doing everything I can on the Intel file, Tracy.”
“No, it’s not about that.” This would go over with Janet about as well as marriage to an outsider. By her own admission, she was an in-the-system woman, all the way. At the credenza, Tracy fingered the leaves of her ivy. It was thriving, despite the lack of direct sunlight. “I don’t know how to get it, but I need in-depth information on Major O’Dell and Colonel Hackett.”
Janet’s expression crumpled. “Oh, God.”
“No, not Nestler,” Tracy teased, trying to defuse the sudden tension between them. “Just O’Dell and Hackett at least, so far.”
Still tense, Janet lifted her hands, palms up. “Why?”
Her assistant was going to love this. Maybe enough to strangle her. “I can’t say. It’d be a breach of confidentiality, and I gave my word.”
Janet eyed her cautiously. “You could get copies of their Personnel files-”
“That’s not deep enough, especially on Hackett.” Here came the touchy part. Janet could report Tracy for this. Forget her promotion, she could get kicked out of the Air Force. She rubbed her locket. “The information I need won’t be in any file. Or in writing.”
“I sec.” Staring at Tracy’s neck, Janet fisted her hands at her sides, her expression unreadable. “Then that leaves you one choice. A bug.”
“A listening device?” Tracy clamped down on the locket, her sizzling nerves threatening to snap. “Surely there’s another way. You’re Intel-trained. Intel has to have other means. It can’t just go around bugging people when standard files prove insufficient.”
“I didn’t say a bug was the only option. But in my opinion, it’s the only one you’re capable of pulling off. We’re all home to unique talents, but covert operations isn’t one of yours. No offense intended.”
“None taken. I’m well aware that I don’t have the nerves for this kind of work.” Tracy thought over the option. She didn’t like it. It felt kind of sleazy. But if it was her only road to the truth, then she had to do it. The part of her that hated taking risks rebelled, rejecting the idea, yet the words came out of her mouth anyway. “Okay, then. I need a listening device.”
“Are you serious?” Janet looked at Tracy as if she’d lost her mind. “I was being facetious, Tracy.”
“I’m serious. I need a listening device.” Trying to hide her own mixed feelings about this, Tracy fingered her paperweight and looked back at Janet. “And I need to know how to use it.”
Janet pointed a warning finger at Tracy. “What you need is a reality check.” A frown creased her brow. “This is about Burke, isn’t it? It is, isn’t it?”
Tracy nodded. “It is.”
“It’s getting out of hand.” Janet dragged impatient fingertips through her hair.
“It’s been out of hand,” Tracy countered. “Ask Adam Burke.”
Janet glared ‘ at her. “Wiring someone is illegal. Don’t you like practicing law? Good grief, you could end up in Leavenworth.” Janet strode across Tracy’s office.” Leavenworth? Did I say Leavenworth? Hell, Tracy, you could end up dead.”
“I know the risks, okay? But I’m hitting red tap brick walls at every turn. Dr. Kane is under a damn gag order, Janet. Why would Command gag him? Because something that shouldn’t be is going on here, and whatever it is has cost Adam Burke his life.”
“He’s not dead, for God’s sake.”
“Not yet. But if the prosecutor is successful “If he’s guilty, then he deserves to die.”
“If. That’s the operative word here.”
Janet rolled her gaze. “Everyone knows he’s guilty.”
“Then why the gag order? If there’s nothing to hide, then why did Command issue it?”
“Kane’s gagged from the press, just like everyone else on base except Public Affairs.”
“Wrong.” Tracy leaned toward Janet. “Dr. Kane is gagged from talking to me.”
Surprise flickered through Janet’s eyes. “But you’re the defense attorney.”
“Yes, I am. So why can’t he talk to me about Alpha team’s deaths?”
“I don’t know.”
“Someone is hiding something,” Tracy said softly. “And, Janet. Burke might not be physically dead, but life as he’s known it is over. Even if he’s cleared in all of this, just being charged will follow him around like a black cloud. Intel won’t touch him.”
“He’ll never be cleared.” Janet rubbed at her forehead, crossed her arms over her chest. “But you’re right. Even if he were Intel won’t touch him. It can’t.”
“So even if he’s innocent, they’ve made him an outsider.” The injustice in that possibility, slim as it was, had a tension headache coming on like gangbusters. Tracy rubbed at her temples. “If I have to step over the line to find out the truth, then that’s what I have to do. You know I’m right about this. if you stood in Burke’s shoes, wouldn’t you want me to step over the line for you? Or are you going to stand here and tell me that when you had no other choice, you never stepped over the line?”
“Damn it.” The stiffness drained from Janet’s expression and her shoulders, and she groaned. “Why do I let you get me into these things?”
“Because you know I’m right. You’ve got highly developed instincts, and they’re talking to you about this just like mine are talking to me.”
Janet closed her eyes and shook her head. “Okay.”
“You’ll help me?” Tracy couldn’t hide her surprise.
“I’ll help you. But only with this-and I mean it.”
Janet plucked at a piece of lint clinging to Tracy’s shoulder. “If I don’t help, you’ll try to pull this off anyway and screw it up.
She was protecting Tracy from herself. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. All it means is we’ll end up as cellmates in Leavenworth. Trespassing. Illegal entry. Violation of the Privacy Act. Infringement on the rights of a superior officer. Direct violation of the code on conduct. I can think of half a dozen more charges they’ll dump on us without even thinking about it.” Janet rolled her gaze ceilingward. “I’ve lost my mind. That’s got to be it. Why else would I do something this stupid?”
Knowing the question was rhetorical, Tracy didn’t answer. Janet had agreed because her instincts were ‘alert and flashing the drill. Duty first. It was as simple as that. “If we get caught, i’ll represent you.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble at all.” Janet grunted. “Just plead insanity. I am insane or I wouldn’t consider doing this.”
“Insanity it is, then.” Tracy clasped Janet’s shoulder. “But it’s right.”
:“Right?” Janet guffawed. “It’s illegal as hell.”
“It’s honorable-on a higher leavel.”
“Be sure to put that in the jury instructions. Maybe they’ll go easy and only sentence me to thirty years.”