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Authors: Nelson DeMille

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“Yes, sir.” The less said, the better, of course. He wanted to talk.

He continued, “Captain Campbell’s death, occurring as it did on post—on this very post where her father is commander—and occurring
in the manner it did, will certainly cause a sensation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t think I have to tell either of you not to speak to the press.”

“Of course not.”

Fowler looked at Cynthia. “I understand you made an arrest in that other rape case. Do you think there’s a connection here?
Could there be two of them? Or could you have gotten the wrong man in the other case?”

“No on all counts, Colonel.”

“But it
is
possible. Will you look into that?”

“No, Colonel. These are two different cases.”

Clearly, the general’s staff had met and some bright boy brought this up as a possibility, or as wishful thinking, or as the
official story; i.e., there was a gang of young trainees running around, laying the pipe to unsuspecting female officers.
I said to Colonel Fowler, “It doesn’t wash.”

He sort of shrugged and turned his attention back to me. “Well, do you have any suspects?”

“No, sir.”

“Any leads?”

“Not at the moment.”

“But you must have a theory or two, Mr. Brenner.”

“I do, Colonel. But they are
only
theories, and all of them would upset you.”

He leaned forward in his chair, obviously not pleased. “I’m only upset that a female officer has been raped and murdered and
that the culprit is at large. Not much else about this case is going to upset me.”

Wanna bet?
I said, “I’ve been told that the general wishes to relieve me and Ms. Sunhill from this case.”

“I believe that was his early reaction. But he’s spoken to some people in Washington, and he’s rethinking this. That’s why
he wants to meet you and Ms. Sunhill.”

“I see. Sort of a job interview.”

“Perhaps.” He added, “Unless you don’t want this case. If you don’t, it will not reflect negatively in your records. In fact,
a letter of commendation will be inserted into your files in recognition of your initial work on this case. And you would
both be offered thirty days of administrative leave, to begin immediately.” He looked from me to Cynthia, then back to me.
“Then there will be no reason to see the general, and you may both leave now.”

Not a bad deal if you thought about it. The idea was not to think about it. I replied, “My commanding officer, Colonel Hellmann,
has assigned me and Ms. Sunhill to this case, and we have accepted the assignment. This is a closed issue, Colonel.”

He nodded. I couldn’t quite get a handle on Fowler. Behind the stiff façade of the adjutant was a very facile operator. He
had to be in order to survive this job, which by almost any military standards sucked. But you’d never become a general until
you’d served on a general’s staff, and clearly, Colonel Fowler was only a hop, skip, and a jump away from his first Silver
Star.

Fowler seemed deep in thought, and there was a silence in the room. I, having said my piece, now had to wait for his reply.
Higher-ranking officers had this unsettling habit of letting long silences pass, and the unwise junior officer would sometimes
charge into the breach with an afterthought, then get clobbered with an icy stare or a reprimand. It was sort of like a trap
play in football, or in war, and, although I didn’t know Colonel Fowler very well, I knew the type too well. The man was testing
me, testing my nerve and resolve, perhaps to see if he was dealing with an overly enthusiastic asshole or someone as shrewd
as himself. Cynthia, to her credit, let the silence drag on, too.

Finally, he said to me, “I know why Ms. Sunhill is here at Fort Hadley. But what brings a special unit CID investigator to
our little outpost?”

“I was on undercover assignment. One of your armory NCOs was about to go into business for himself. You ought to tighten security
at the armory, and you should know that I’ve saved you some embarrassment.” I added, “I’m sure the provost briefed you.”

“In fact, he did. Some weeks ago when you got here.”

“So you knew I was here.”

“Yes, but not
why
you were here.”

“Why do you suppose Colonel Kent asked me to take this case in light of the fact that no one else here wants me to take it?”

He thought a moment, then replied, “To be honest with you, Colonel Kent is not fond of the local CID commander, Major Bowes.
In any case, your people at Falls Church would have put you on it immediately. Colonel Kent did what he thought was best for
everyone.”

“Including Colonel Kent. What is the problem between Colonel Kent and Major Bowes?”

He shrugged. “Probably just jurisdictional. Turf.”

“Not personal?”

“I don’t know. Ask them.”

“I will.” In the meantime, I asked Colonel Fowler, “Did you know Captain Campbell personally?”

He looked at me a moment, then replied, “Yes. In fact, the general has asked me to give the eulogy at her funeral.”

“I see. Were you with General Campbell prior to this assignment?”

“Yes, I’ve been with General Campbell since he was an armored division commander in Germany. We served together in the Gulf,
then here.”

“Did he request this assignment?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant.”

“I assume you knew Ann Campbell before Fort Hadley?”

“Yes.”

“Could you give me an idea of the nature of your relationship?” How was that for smooth?

Fowler leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eyes. “Excuse me, Mr. Brenner. Is this an interrogation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I hope not, Colonel.”

He laughed, then stood. “Well, you both come to my office tomorrow and you can fire away. Call for an appointment. Follow
me, please.”

We followed Colonel Fowler back into the central foyer, then toward the rear of the mansion, where we came to a closed door.
Colonel Fowler said to us, “No need to salute, quick condolences, you’ll be asked to take a seat. Mrs. Campbell will not be
present. She’s under sedation. Please keep this short. Five minutes.” He knocked on the door, opened it, and stepped inside,
announcing us as Warrant Officers Brenner and Sunhill of the CID. Sounded like a TV series.

Cynthia and I followed and found ourselves in a sort of den of highly polished wood, leather, and brass. The room was dark,
the drapes drawn, and the only light came from a green-shaded desk lamp. Behind the desk stood Lieutenant General Joseph Campbell,
in a dress-green uniform with a chest full of medals. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was huge, not only
tall but big-boned, like the Scottish clan chiefs from which he must have descended, and on this occasion I also noticed the
unmistakable smell of Scotch whisky in the room.

General Campbell extended his hand to Cynthia, who took it and said to him, “My deepest condolences, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I took his hand, which was huge, passed on my condolences, and added, “I’m very sorry to have to bother you at a time like
this,” as though this meeting had been my idea.

“Not at all.” He sat and said, “Please be seated.”

We sat in leather chairs facing his desk. I regarded his face in the shaded light. He had a full head of blondish-gray hair,
bright blue eyes, craggy features, and a good jaw with a cleft chin. A handsome man, but aside from the eyes, Ann Campbell’s
beauty must have come from her mother.

With a general, one never speaks until spoken to, but the general wasn’t speaking. He stared off, between Cynthia and me,
at some point behind us. He nodded, I suppose to Fowler, and I heard the door close behind us, as Colonel Fowler departed.

General Campbell now looked at Cynthia, then at me, and addressed us both in a quiet voice, which I knew, from radio and television,
was not his normal speaking voice. He said, “I take it that you two wish to remain on this assignment.”

We both nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

He looked at me. “Can I convince you that everyone would be better served if you turn this matter over to Major Bowes here
at Fort Hadley?”

“I’m sorry, General,” I responded. “This matter transcends Fort Hadley and transcends your personal grief. None of us can
change that.”

General Campbell nodded. “Then I will give you my full cooperation and promise you the cooperation of everyone here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?”

“No, sir.”
Do you?

“Do I have both your assurances that you will work quickly and that you will work with us to minimize the sensational aspects
of this incident and that you will do more good than harm here?”

I replied, “I assure you that our only objective is to make an arrest as soon as possible.”

Cynthia added, “We have taken steps, General, from the very beginning to minimize outside involvement. We have transported
the entire contents of Captain Campbell’s home to this post. Chief of Police Yardley seems upset about that, and I suspect
he will contact you in that regard. If you would be so kind as to tell him you authorized this before it happened, we would
be very appreciative. Regarding minimizing sensationalism and harm to the post and the Army, a word from you to Chief Yardley
would go a long way in achieving that goal.”

General Campbell looked at Cynthia for a few long seconds. Undoubtedly, he could not look at a young, attractive woman of
that age without thinking of his daughter.
What
he was thinking of his daughter is what I didn’t know. He said to Cynthia, “Consider it done.”

“Thank you, General.”

I said, “It is my understanding, General, that you were supposed to see your daughter this morning after she got off duty.”

He replied, “Yes… we were to have breakfast. When she didn’t arrive, I called Colonel Fowler at headquarters, but he said
she wasn’t there. I believe he called her home.”

“About what time was that, sir?”

“I’m not certain. She was due at my house at 0700. I probably called headquarters at about 0730.”

I didn’t pursue this but said to him, “General, we appreciate your offer of full cooperation and will take you up on it. At
your first available opportunity, I’d like to conduct a more detailed interview with you, and with Mrs. Campbell. Perhaps
tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid we have to make funeral arrangements tomorrow and attend to other personal business. The day after the funeral
may be convenient.”

“Thank you.” I added, “The family often has information that, without realizing it, can be critical in resolving a case.”

“I understand.” He thought a moment, then asked, “Do you think… was this someone she may have known?”

“It’s quite possible,” I replied, and our eyes met.

He kept good eye contact and said to me, “I have that feeling, too.”

I asked him, “Has anyone, aside from Colonel Kent, spoken to you about the circumstances of your daughter’s death?”

“No. Well, Colonel Fowler did. He briefed me.”

“About the possible rape, and how she was found?”

“That’s correct.”

There was a long silence, and I knew from past experience with general officers that he was not waiting for me to speak, but
that the interview was over. I said, “Is there anything we can do for you at this time?”

“No… just find the son-of-a-bitch.” He stood and pressed a button on his desk, then said, “Thank you for your time.”

Cynthia and I stood, and I said, “Thank you, General.” I shook his hand. “And, again, my deepest sympathy to you and your
family.”

He took Cynthia’s hand, and perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed to hold it a long time and he looked into her eyes.
Then he said, “I know you’ll do your very best. My daughter would have liked you. She liked self-assured women.”

“Thank you, General,” Cynthia replied. “You have my promise I’ll do my best, and again, my deepest condolences.”

The door behind us opened, and Colonel Fowler escorted us out, through the central hallway and toward the front door. He said
to me, “I understand that you have special arrest powers. But I’m going to ask that before you arrest anyone, you notify me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he replied a bit sharply, “we don’t like our personnel being arrested by outside people without our knowing about
it.”

“It happens fairly often,” I informed him. “In fact, as you may know, I just threw the armory sergeant in jail a few hours
ago. But if you wish, I’ll notify you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brenner.” He added, “As always, there are three ways of doing things—the right way, the wrong way, and the
Army way. I have the feeling you’re trying to do it the right way, which is the wrong way, Mr. Brenner.”

“I know that, Colonel.”

He looked at Cynthia and said, “If you change your mind about thirty days’ free leave, let me know. If you don’t, please keep
in touch with me. Mr. Brenner appears to be the type of man who gets so immersed in his work that he could forget the protocols.”

“Yes, sir,” Cynthia replied. “And please try to get us an early appointment with General and Mrs. Campbell. We’ll need at
least an hour. Also, please call us at the provost marshal’s office if you think of anything significant.”

He opened the door and we stepped outside. Before he closed it, I turned and said to him, “By the way, we heard your message
to Captain Campbell on her answering machine.”

“Oh, yes. It seems a bit silly now.”

“What time did you make that call, Colonel?”

“About 0800 hours. The General and Mrs. Campbell expected their daughter at about 0700 hours.”

“Where did you make the call from, sir?”

“I was at work—at Post Headquarters.”

“Did you look around Post Headquarters to see if Captain Campbell was delayed on duty?”

“No… I just assumed she forgot and went home.” He added, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I see. Did you look to see if her car was in the headquarters’ parking lot?”

“No… I suppose I should have.”

BOOK: The General's Daughter
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