“I’m a superior officer,” Tracy reminded him. “And I don’t suggest you forget it.”
Looking torn, Carver darted his gaze through the windshield, as if praying someone would rescue him from the hot seat. “I haven’t forgotten it, ma’am. But what you’re asking me to do, I can’t. I have strict orders from … from someone of an even higher rank.”
Seeing Carver’s Adam’s apple bob three times in his throat, Tracy knew he was weakening. “If we don’t prove the truth, you could end up in Captain Burke’s position, Lieutenant. You could be blamed for everything that’s gone wrong since Captain Burke legally died. You’d better think about that. Our finding out the truth is your only protection.”
Carver’s eyes stretched wide. He blinked, then blinked again, his hand fisting around the gearshift. “Okay, you’ve got a point. And I have considered it, but-”
“No buts.” Adam grasped Carver’s shoulder and then squeezed. “Let me be blunt, Lieutenant. I’ve been accused of crimes I haven’t committed and, because of that, I’m now a dead man. Don’t screw with me on this. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
“I-I don’t know everything,” he said, his face ruddy.
Tracy interceded. Carver was willing. They didn’t need muscle now, they needed finesse. “Lieutenant, is Keener Chemical producing retrosarin?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She’d known it, but hearing her suspicions confirmed still pummeled her. “Is retrosarin the proposed product in the contract for Project Duplicity?”
He glared at her. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“Who is Keener working with?” Adam asked, then added, “In addition to the four men who confronted, Captain Keener and me with the M-16s out in Area Fourteen?”
“Colonel Hackett, sir.” Carver grimaced, “He has some information on Paul Keener that Keener doesn’t want made public.”
“What kind of information?” Adam asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. But I know it’s personal and it involves Captain Keener, sir.”
“Me?” Rubbing her locket, Tracy frowned. What personal information could Hackett have on Paul that had anything whatsoever to do with her?
“Yes, ma’am. That’s all I know about it, though. That’s the truth.”
Adam looked at Tracy. She shrugged, letting him know she was clueless about it.
Carver wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. “Hackett is ambitious-everyone knows it. He’s playing politics, jockeying for that command position in the Pacific theater. Personally, I think he’s angling for the assignment so that after Duplicity is a done deal, he can sell retrosarin to unfriendly factions. There’s bound to be a hell of a black market, and being out in the Pacific, the colonel would have room to move without being scrutinized by Customs.”
Tracy’s stomach furled. “You think Hackett and Paul Keener have formed an alliance to facilitate these sales?”
“I’m damn sure of it.”
Absorbing the godawful news, Tracy stared at the dash. But it did make more of the puzzle pieces fit into place, even if it also inspired nightmares. Retrosarin would be available to every terrorist and enemy of the United States. Hundreds of thousands of people could die, “How does Project Duplicity tie in with what happened to Captain Burke and his men?”
Carver went mum.
“Lieutenant?” Tracy prodded.
“No, ma’am, Captain.” He hiked his chin and the irises of his eyes slivered into steel-blue shards. “If you want to know that, then you talk to the man who cut my orders.
“Who is?” Adam urged Carver.
He glared at Tracy. “General Nestler.”
Tracy had known it. Down deep, she’d known it. But hearing him admit it still had shivers rippling up her backbone and angry tears clogging her throat. Damn it, why couldn’t one-just one-of her superior officers not be corrupt? Was that asking for too much?
“The general’s gone back to the office. There’s a situation.”
She and Adam exited Carver’s Bronco and returned to the Jeep. She crawled in, still shivering, still furious, and fighting the urge to weep, now knowing firsthand how Adam had felt at being screwed over by his own.
He sat inside the Jeep. When she closed the door, he reached out and covered her hand with his. “You . okay?”
“No.”
“Mad as hell?”
“Yeah.” She glanced over at him. “And so disappointed I can hardly stand it.”
“I understand.” He gave her hand a pat, then pulled out of the Officers’ Club’s parking lot. When he drove past the exchange and stopped at the light by the credit union, she got a sick feeling in her stomach. “We have to confront the general, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, again seeing her promotion, her selection, and her career sprouting wings. “That’s taking a big risk, Adam.”
“it is. But I think you were right and Nestler’s opposed to what Hackett’s done.”
“I’m not so sure, anymore.” She admitted the shameful truth aloud. “What if he isn’t? What if Nestler is neck-deep in this and he intends to get rich selling retrosarin to enemy factions? He and Hackett could be working together. He does have a lot of pull on Hackett’s next assignment. You yourself said so.”
“He deserves the benefit of doubt, Tracy. We all do. And I’m going to give it to him.”
“Fine. I understand why that’s so important to you. But if you’re wrong, he’s going to kill us, Adam.”
“Yes, he probably will. But I know what it’s like to be condemned, and I won’t do that to him. I can’t.”
Torn, Tracy wavered, seeing both sides of the issue. Which way was right?
That she couldn’t see. “So what happens if he does kill us? Who stops them then?” -“Dr. Kane.” The light turned green, and Adam stepped on the gas. “He’ll find the antidote and expose the truth. II Tracy squeezed her eyes shut, prayed she wasn’t screwing up and she wouldn’t regret this. “I suppose we have no choice. Either way, Nestler knows we’re after the truth. But my instincts still say that he’s working with Hackett or he would’ve stopped us before now.”
“Not if he benefited by not stopping us, and he has. With us conducting an unofficial investigation, he’s been spared from publicity and ordering an official one. That means there’s no congressional block on Duplicity being funded until the investigation is complete. That antidote is vital, Tracy.”
“True, but can’t we try something else?” She hated risks, had sworn off taking them; she’d taken more than enough already. Slapping her hair back from her eyes, she looked at Adam. “Something less risky than a direct confrontation?”
“We have no other options, honey.” His jaw clenched. “We’ve got to go to Nestler.”
“But we could be walking right into the line of fire?”
Adam thudded the heel of his hand against the dash.
“Damn it. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I hate the idea of putting you in this position?”
“I don’t like your being put in this position any better.” Tracy lifted the hand he’d pounded against the dash and kissed the heel of it, certain it was still stinging. “He won’t be surprised to see us. Carver’s probably called him already.” Nestler would be prepared; ready and waiting for them to arrive anywhere at any time. And that thought terrified Tracy most of all.
Two blocks from Hangar Row, Adam took a sharp left. “He might not be surprised to see us, but he damn sure won’t expect us to walk into Headquarters.”
“No!” Tracy’s heart lunged straight up into her throat. “Adam, that’s crazy!”
“Maybe, but it’s our best shot.”
“But Headquarters is a secure building.” He could&‘t be serious about this. He couldn’t! “The guards will stop us before we cross the threshold.”
“They damn well better.” Adam whipped into Headquarters’ parking lot and stopped the car. “And when they do, then they’ll know for a fact I’m alive.”
Tracy loosened her grip on his hand. “Is this another of your Intel rules?”
He nodded, his eyes gleaming. “When your defense is shot to hell, attack.”
She didn’t like this. Not at all. It felt wrong. It felt damn foolish.
“Tracy.” Adam clasped their hands. “Trust me.”
Wavering between doing exactly that and rebelling and running like hell, she let the battle rage in her mind. She could claim both of them certifiably insane. Who in their right mind would argue that an unreasonable defense?
When the mental dust settled, she gave Adam an earnest look. “Okay, I’ll trust you. But if I end up in Leavenworth over this, I’m going to be really ticked off at you, Adam. Really ticked off-and quit smiling at me, damn it.”
Still smiling, Adam opened the car door. He wasn’t antagonizing her. He couldn’t help himself. She hadn’t said she’d stop caring about him, only that she’d be ticked off. The woman loved him. She might be too scared or too stubborn to admit it, but she loved him. “Let’s go see what the general’s got to say for himself.”
“Tracy stepped out of the Jeep and slammed the door shut. “Hopefully, we’ll live long enough to hear his answers.
Chapter 28.
Tracy walked toward the brick building, smoothing the skirt of her uniform more from nervousness than because of rumpled fabric. This was the biggest gamble of their lives-hers and Adam’s-and no matter how she mentally played out the coming events, she ended up in dread. On the right side of the law or guilty of conspiracy, Nestler would not be happy to see them at Headquarters. He wouldn’t be surprised, but he would be seething resentment and more angry than was safe, considering the clout of his position.
Adam opened the glass door, gave her a reassuring nod that didn’t ease her trepidation one iota, and then followed her inside.
The guard at the long linear desk started to salute, but then recognition lit in his eyes and he drew his weapon. A menacing black Glock.
“We’re here to see General Nestler,” Adam said. “He’s expecting us.”
Disbelief faded to confusion and fiddled the sergeant’s eyes, but his expression remained passively masked. He reached over the desk, and dialed the general’s office. “Captains Burke and Keener to see General Nestler.”
Moments passed. Long, tense moments. Cold air streamed across Tracy’s shoulders from the airconditioning vent overhead. It seemed to burn hot, and her stomach was bent on doing more flip-flops than a landed fish. She couldn’t see beyond the barrel of the Glock.
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant hung up the phone, secured ‘the door-locking others out of the building, and them in it-and then holstered his weapon. “I’ll escort YOU.”
Knowing the way to the general’s office, Adam strode down the gray-carpeted halfway, sure of his steps. Tracy stiffened until her back threatened to crack, refusing to rub her locket, and stayed at Adam’s side, regretting that Special Ops never shut down. Her heels clicked distinctly, announcing her every step. As they walked by office doors, people glanced up from their desks. Shocked stares rapidly replaced mild curiosity. She ignored them, certain the gossip about their arrival would spread through the whole building long before she and Adam took the elevator to the third floor.
“I thought he was dead.” The secretary’s whisper carried in the pin-drop silence.
“So did everyone else,” a man said.
Tracy recognized him. Major Mark Mitchell, a JAG officer assigned to the general as special counsel. Scowling, he fell into step behind them.
They took the elevator up to the third floor. General Nestler’s office was the second on the right, just beyond the briefing room. Tracy’s stomach was lodged somewhere between her throat and her kneecaps, and it quivered as if she’d already been shot.
They passed Nestler’s secretary, Beth Morinski, according to her nameplate. She sat at her desk, staring openly at them from over the tops of her owlish glasses. Her plain white coffee mug was reflected in her lenses. “Go on in,” she said to the sergeant. “The general is waiting.”
With a clipped nod, he rapped sharply on the door, then entered. “Sir. Captains Burke and Keener, sir.” The guard stepped aside.
Tracy walked past him. Windows on two sides of the office-a total of four-all closed and sealed shut. A huge desk that gleamed and smelled of Pledge. A potted peace plant in the far corner. And two green leather chairs in front of Nestler’s desk.
Nestler sat behind the desk in a high-backed burgundy one that rocked, his broad hand braced on its wooden arm, the lines in his face as hard as nails, and the look in his eyes as flexible as tempered steel. Two flags flanked his back on brass poles. Old Glory and the United States Air Force flag. Both hung perfectly still, as if they too sensed the tension in the room.
“That’ll be all, Sergeant.” Nestler nodded at the guard.
“Yes, sir.” He turned for the door and paused. “I’ll be right outside, if you need me, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary. Return to your post.” Nestler then focused on his special counsel. “Mark, you can go on back to your office. Everything is under control here.
“But, General.” Clearly surprised, he protested.
His voice remaining leavel, Nestler shot him a warning look. “That will be all, Major.”
Resignation slid over Mark’s face. “Yes, sir.” He walked out and pulled the door shut.
During that conversation, Tracy remembered every word she had ever heard about Nestler. He was about fifty-five and as blond as Lieutenant Carver, but not brash or young and certainly not vulnerable. Where Carver seemed uncertain, Nestler seemed confident, controlled, and capable of anything required of him.
Tracy prayed that didn’t prove to be to her and Adam’s detriment.
“Please sit down,” he told them.
Gunshots from the range rattled the windows. An exercise was going on. Even though she knew it wouldn’t be one that ended up as Adam’s had, Tracy shivered. She sat down at Adam’s right in a visitor’s chair.
“I expected to see you two, though I confess, I didn’t think you would. come here.” The general’s eyes gleamed. “It took guts to walk into this building.”
It had. But had it been wise? That, Tracy hadn’t decided.
Realizing they weren’t going to say anything, Nestler’s expression changed. Suddenly he looked every bit as weary as he had confident. “I guess you came for answers, not questions.”
“Yes, sir.” Adam said.
“Well, it’s time for them.” Nestler’s eyes gleamed, intense and serious. “I surmise you’ve deduced that I arranged the fire at the brig to facilitate your escape, Captain Burke.”