The Escape (24 page)

J
OHN PULLER WAITED
until he got up to his room before opening the attachment on the email. He sat down in the chair and read through the letter once, and then, being the good soldier he was, he read through it twice more, filling in gaps that the prior readings had left.

He set the phone down and stared over at the wall opposite. He never knew his father could be so eloquent through the written word. He could give orders like no one else, concise and incapable of misinterpretation, the Ulysses S. Grant of his generation. But to convey the feelings, the emotions that he had in the letter to the court-martial, well, it was as extraordinary as it was unexpected.

He had never seen this side of the old man. He doubted anyone had, including his brother. Chiefly his brother. Puller hadn’t gone the officer route, and his father had never forgiven him. Yet Bobby, who
was
an officer, had gotten the brunt of their father’s derision. Puller had been a grunt with a rifle in the trenches. He had fought for his country, been wounded for his country, and been, in his father’s eyes, a soldier’s soldier. His brother had been, in his father’s words, “a g-d flyboy playing typist,” the last word being a derogatory reference to his brother’s immense talent with technology.

But in this letter Puller Sr. had dug somewhere deep to find the words to persuade a military tribunal to give his son the possibility of life instead of a certain death. He had said things about his older son that Puller had never heard the old man say before. It was like they were two different men, in fact. But there they were, in his father’s bold handwriting. How he had been able to do this while his mind was slowly being eaten away by the disease that was diligently claiming him was beyond Puller.

He put the phone away in his pocket and packed his things in his duffel. He checked out and met Knox in the lobby. He noted that her face was red and she looked exhausted.

“What, did you go for a run while I was up in my room?”

“Why?”

“Your face is flushed and your eyes are red. And you look beat.”

“Might be coming down with something. And I’ve got pollen allergies. And I only had three hours of sleep.”

“Okay,” he said as they walked to the car.

She said hastily, “I’ll be fine. I took something. It’s why I ducked into the pharmacy.”

“Then I’ll drive and you can grab some rest.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

They loaded the car and climbed into the front seats. The clouds had thickened, blackened, and rain was starting to fall.

“Nice time to catch some shut-eye,” said Puller. “Just listen to the raindrops beating on the roof and you’ll pass right out.”

“Yeah.” She snuggled down into her seat with her jacket draped over her and said, “By the way, where are we going?”

“Back to D.C.”

“Why?”

“Why not? You want to go back to Kansas?”

“Not particularly. I think we’ve done all we can there.”

“I need to go back at some point and pick up my cat.”

She smirked at him. “It still surprises me that you have a pet, Puller. And a cat. And it was lying on the bed next to dead Daughtrey like it was no big deal.”

“AWOL is cool under pressure. And she’s low-maintenance.”

“Like her owner?”

“It’s probably why we get along so well.”

“It’s a long drive to D.C.”

“Not a problem. I’ll take the wheel the whole way. Give me a chance to think.”

“So when we get to D.C.?”

“The first priority will be checking out what happened to Niles Robinson.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She closed her eyes.

“Let me know if you need a food or bathroom break.”

“All I need is some sleep.”

Puller reached the highway, headed north, and accelerated.

“You asleep yet, Knox?”

“Not now, no.”

“Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

“You have any enemies?”

“Don’t we all have enemies?”

“Anyone in particular with you?”

“Not that I can think of right now.” She straightened in her seat. “And why are you asking me that?”

Puller tapped the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. “I got a text.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re not what you appear to be. That I shouldn’t trust you.”

Knox glanced away, frowning. “Who sent the text?”

“I don’t know. I called the number but no one answered. I’ll try to trace it, but it might be a burn phone. In fact, I’d be surprised if it weren’t.”

“So that’s why you were acting that way this morning?”

“Yes.”

“So you believed the text even though you don’t even know who sent it?”

“I’m not sure what I believed.”

“That’s bullshit. You
did
believe it. Even after we were attacked in that alley and almost killed.”

“If I did believe it I would have done something about it. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have told you about it.”

“But you didn’t tell me right away.”

“No, I didn’t,” he conceded. “But I’m not a perfect man, either.”

She crossed her arms and sank back into her seat. “Well, I’m not a perfect woman, that’s for damn sure.”

“Anything bothering you? I’ve got time to listen.”

“Nothing on my end.”

They drove a few more miles before Knox said, “I might tell you about it sometime, Puller.”

“That’s fine.”

“And maybe the text was right, maybe I’m not who I appear to be.”

“Text or no text, I never thought you were who you appeared to be, Knox.”

She shot him a glance. “Then why—”

“Let’s just leave it at that for now.”

“I don’t get you, Puller, I really don’t. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out you throw me a curve.”

“You said I was predictable.”

“But I’m coming to learn that you’re not. At least not in all ways.”

“A good soldier never stops learning.”

She snuggled back into her seat again and shut her eyes. “Did you read the letter your father had written?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And it’s made me understand that none of us are who we appear to be. Now get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get close.”

A few minutes later her breathing became regular and her arms slid to her sides.

The rain picked up and so did the wind. Puller had a job keeping the car straight on the highway but managed it with both of his big hands clamped around the wheel.

Once they were past the worst of it, his mind could wander from the demands of driving in a storm to the written words of a three-star fighting legend who was supposed to have lost his mind at a VA hospital.

If Puller Sr. had meant everything that he had written in that letter maybe there was hope.

For all of them.

And he wanted his brother to be able to read those words.

He wanted that very much.

It could make up for a lot. Perhaps, even in an imperfect world, it could make up for just about everything.

A
S THEY APPROACHED
the D.C. area a little over six hours later, Puller woke Knox by gently nudging her in the side. She came to as he would, calm, alert, and ready to go, or pull the trigger, as the case might be.

“It didn’t occur to me,” he said. “Where are you staying?”

“You can drop me at the W Hotel downtown. It’s centrally located. I’ve stayed there before.”

“Right near the White House. You going to have a powwow with the president?”

“It’s not on my schedule for today, no.”

Puller glanced sharply at her. The way she said it, she seemed serious.

“The W it is.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“Heading to Quantico to get some fresh clothes and other stuff I might need. And to check in.”

“I’m going to do the same at the hotel.”

“So how will they take the fact that you’ve shot two people and killed one?”

“I think they’ll take it rather well considering the alternative. But I know I’m going to have a roomful of forms to file. And I’ll have to go back to North Carolina and Kansas to deal with it at some point.”

“I’m hoping they can find the guy you shot in Charlotte.”

“Yeah, that would help. Maybe he’s lying dead in some other alley down there.” She added sarcastically, “They can do another follicle test. If there’s ice there, he might be from Alaska. Or maybe Siberia.”

Puller’s phone buzzed again. He checked the screen while they were stopped at a red light. He slipped it back into his pocket.

“Anything important?”

“General Rinehart and Mr. Schindler want to meet.”

“Where?”

“They came back east too. Dinner at the Army-Navy Club downtown. Eight-thirty tonight. You up for it?”

“I don’t think they want to meet with me.”

“I don’t care if they do or not. You’re on my team. So you get to come and report in too.”

“I hear Rinehart can be a bear.”

“Any guy busting his hump for the fourth star can be a bear. I’ll need to get my dress blues. I can pick you up a little after eight and we can drive over together. Sound good?”

“Sounds good, Puller. And I’m flattered.”

“About what?”

“About being included on
your
team.”

He pulled up to the W Hotel and she climbed out and grabbed her bag from the trunk. She came around to his side of the car and motioned for him to roll down the window.

She leaned in and smiled coyly. “But then again, I always thought you were on
my
team.” She smacked him lightly on the cheek, turned, and sauntered into the hotel lobby.

Puller watched her every step of the way and then rolled the window back up and drove off.

He stopped by Quantico and met briefly with Don White, his CO. The man was not happy with the situation, particularly since he apparently knew Puller could not tell him everything.

“I know you’ve got a lot of juice behind you on this one, Puller. But my advice to you is to watch all points on the compass. If this turns into a disaster, and it might, fingers will be pointing so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Roger that,” Puller had said.

He had driven home thinking about this warning and the similar one that Shireen Kirk had given him. Nothing good could come out of this for him. But as smart as the woman was, she might be wrong about that.

I just might be able to get my brother back.

He called Rinehart’s office and got the okay for Knox’s attendance at the dinner. Then he caught up on some paperwork and checked in with the vet back at Fort Leavenworth to see how AWOL was doing.

“What can I say? The damn cat doesn’t seem to even know you’ve left her,” was the vet’s reply, and Puller could almost see the smile attached to this comment.

“Yeah, well, tell AWOL I love her too.”

He didn’t have a lot of time before he had to head back to D.C. for the dinner, but he put on his sweats and went for a run. Afterward, he walked back to his apartment, his tired muscles feeling good, the endorphins bumping up his spirits. He quickly showered and then sat in a towel on his bed going over the notes he’d collected over the last few days.

Macri dead.

The Ukrainian dead.

Daughtrey dead.

The missing transformers.

The men who had kidnapped him.

The person who had saved him, possibly his brother.

The lying Susan Reynolds.

The attack in the alley.

The dead Niles Robinson.

A letter his father wrote.

His brother out there somewhere.

And Knox. They’d shared a hungry look and had come close to sharing a lot more. And then there was the text. She wasn’t who she appeared to be. The fact was he couldn’t fully trust her. He couldn’t trust anyone on this. This was not the world of soldiering. That was one he understood fully. You counted on the guy next to you and he counted on you, because that was the only way to survive.

But this wasn’t soldiering, though there were uniforms galore in the mix. This was the intelligence field, which apparently came chock-full of lies, dubious allegiances, ulterior motives, changing agendas, and everyone telling you what you wanted to hear while they were sticking the knife deeper into your back and blaming it on someone else. That world, his brother’s world, was totally foreign to him. He felt like a buck recruit, set out in the wild all alone to sink or swim, to live or die.

He put on his dress blues and left Quantico to make his way north on Interstate 95 to D.C. Luckily, he was heading against traffic. Going south on 95 it was, as usual, a parking lot. He pulled in front of the W Hotel and was about to text Knox that he was there waiting outside when she walked out in a navy blue skirt, matching jacket, pale blue blouse, sheer stockings, and high heels. Her hair was done up in a braid and she carried a clutch purse. And now he knew there was a gun in there.

He unlocked the passenger door and she slid in with a swish of skirt and a quick glimpse of her long thighs.

“Productive day?” she asked.

“Pretty good. You?”

“Got some things accomplished. Did you settle things for me to be there tonight?”

“All done.”

“I’m surprised they’d allow it.”

“I’m sure calls were made, emails sent, your record examined inch by inch, inquiries made, and appropriate parties briefed. And there you go. They’ll know more about you now than you know about yourself.”

He pulled off and headed toward the Army-Navy Club, which wasn’t very far away distance-wise, but at this time of night traffic and myriad intervening lights could make it seem like fifty miles.

“So what’s the agenda for tonight?” she asked.

He glanced over to see her staring at him.

“I’m not setting the agenda. They are. Generals and guys with the president’s ear tend to do that. I’m just a lowly CWO.”

“You need to improve your self-esteem, Puller, or you won’t get anywhere fast.”

“Slow and steady wins the day.”

“Unless someone is shooting at you.”

“You feeling better? Gotten over whatever it was?”

She folded her arms over her chest again, something he again noted she did whenever she was feeling defensive or elusive.

“Still working on that.”

“Right. Maybe you should try Sudafed. Or a priest.”

She turned to look at him. “A priest?”

“Your personnel file says you’re Catholic. I figure you might want to try confession. Supposed to be good for the soul.”

“Are you accusing me of lying to you again?”

Puller worked his way through late rush-hour traffic before stopping at a red light. “We’ve got about ten more minutes until we get there.”

“I’m just not following you, Puller.”

“You weren’t sick or coming down with a cold. Your voice was normal, not scratchy or husky. On the drive to D.C. you didn’t cough, sneeze, or even sniffle. At one point I cranked up the AC and you didn’t even shiver. And I’ve got pollen allergies too. And there’s none in the air or else I’d know it.”

“And your point?”

“Your face was flushed and your eyes were red for another reason. Emotion can do that. Crying can do that, more specifically, although you don’t strike me as a weeper. But then again, I really don’t know you all that well. But if something did make you break down, it had to have been something serious. And that might come back to explode in my face. If I’m wrong about any of this, feel free to tell me so.”

The light turned green but Puller didn’t move. A car behind them honked.

“Keep driving,” she said. “Like you said, we have ten minutes.”

Puller drove through the intersection. About a minute later Knox said, “I told you I wasn’t who I appeared to be.”

“And I told you that was no surprise to me.”

“But what if—” She stopped and looked out the window.

“What if what?” said Puller.

She turned to face him. “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over to the curb. We can walk the rest of the way. If we’re a little late, I’m sure the general and Mr. Schindler won’t mind. In fact, walking might be faster than riding in a car in this traffic.”

Miraculously, Puller found a parking spot on the next block, pulling in as another car was pulling out.

They had walked for half a block when she looked up at him and touched the sleeve of his uniform. He had put his cover on as soon as they had exited the car.

“Nice hat. And I meant to tell you that you look really handsome in dress blues. Quite imposing.”

“You look really good too, but I’m waiting to hear what you have to say.”

“My being assigned to this case was no coincidence. I was assigned because you were assigned.”

“And what was your task?”

“To keep tabs on you and report back. Which I have done.”

“Is that all?”

She lightly punched him in the arm. “What, that’s not enough for you?”

“It’s past flirting time, Knox.”

She grew serious at once and looked ahead as they walked. “No, it’s not all. The transformers?”

“What about them?” Puller said warily.

“I made them go away. Along with the tech, Jordan.”

Puller stopped walking, something she didn’t realize for a few more steps. She strode slowly back to him, her brow creased with concern.

He said, “You made critical evidence in a criminal investigation go away? That’s obstruction.”

“It wasn’t on my authority, I can assure you. It was on orders.”

“From who?”

“My superiors.”

“I’d like names, ranks, and serial numbers. And I’d like them right now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t go there.”

“You just admitted to a crime, Knox, a felony.”

“I’ll never be tried for it, Puller. Just the way things work in my world.”

“But not in mine.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re in
my
world, not yours, because that’s where your brother lived.”

“Why did you make the evidence disappear?”

“Because it would have shown traces of an explosive device.”

“So it
was
sabotaged?”

“They couldn’t let that go to chance, Puller. Just like the generator. It was intentionally gummed up.”

“And the two techs?”

“Clueless about it. Easy enough to do. Macri and her cronies had no problem with that.”

“And you know this how?”

She started to walk again and Puller matched her pace.

“We have a problem, Puller, a big one. We have a traitor in our ranks. Maybe more than one. No, assuredly more than one. Maybe a lot of them. And they are highly placed. They got your brother sent to DB. They have wreaked damage on this nation’s security. They are no doubt planning something else, something big.”

“So why am I here, then, Knox, if you know all this? Why was I invited to the party?”

“That’s the critical question, Puller. Why
were
you invited to this party? I haven’t found anyone who can answer that to my satisfaction.”

“Generals Rinehart and Daughtrey and James Schindler told me that they thought because of my connection to my brother that I would have insights others wouldn’t. They thought it gave the best chance to find him.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Well, since we’re going to dinner with two of them, why don’t we ask?”

“That’s exactly what you can’t do. When I said this goes high, I meant it might go to Mount Everest.”

“Schindler is on the NSC. He’s the president’s man. And Rinehart is in line for the Joint Chiefs. Are you telling me they’re traitors?”

“I’m not telling you they are and I’m not telling you they aren’t, because I don’t know. What I do know is we have to find out the truth before a very large shoe drops somewhere. It might already have for all I know.”

“Well, you seem to know a lot more than me.”

“In certain discrete parts that may be true. But I don’t know the why or who, just like you said before. And until we know those things we might as well know nothing.”

“But why take the transformers? Why cover that up?”

“We don’t want them to know that we know. If they go deeper underground we may never unearth them.”

“And Macri? The men who kidnapped me?”

“I can’t explain them, Puller. I don’t know if they’re part of the conspiracy or another faction that we’re not aware of.”

“And the guys in the alley?”

“If I knew I’d tell you.”

“You sure about that.”

“Don’t throw that in my face.”

He stopped walking again. “You don’t think I’ve earned that right?”

She sighed. “The short answer is, you
have
earned that right.” She suddenly gripped his arm. “But I’m pleading with you not to go there, not now. You can kick me in the ass later, after this is all over.”

He glanced at her backside. “I can promise you that,” said Puller.