The Escape Page 4

  Puller had been to the Pentagon countless times in his career and still didn’t know his way around very well. He had become lost more than once when he had strayed from his regular route. But everyone who had ever been here had gotten lost at least once. Those who denied doing so were lying.

  As they were walking down one broad corridor they had to quickly move to the side as a motorized cart sped toward them carrying stacks of what looked to be large oxygen tanks. Puller knew that the Pentagon had its own emergency oxygen supply in case of an enemy attack or attempted sabotage. The attack against the Pentagon on 9/11 had raised security here to unprecedented heights, and no one foresaw it ever being lowered.

  In getting out of the way of the cart Rinehart stumbled a bit, and Puller instinctively grasped his arm to steady his military superior. They both watched as the motorized cart zipped past.

  Puller said, “The Pentagon can get a little dangerous, sir. Even for three-stars.”

  Rinehart smiled. “Like jumping foxholes sometimes. As big as this place is, sometimes it seems too damn small to contain everything and everybody.”

  They reached an office suite where the name “Lieutenant General Aaron Rinehart” was on the door. The three-star led them inside, past his staff, and into an interior conference room. They sat down and water was poured out by an aide, and then the door closed and they were alone.

  Puller sat across the table from the three men and waited expectantly. They had not spoken about anything significant on the drive over, so he was still in the dark about what they wanted.

  General Daughtrey leaned forward, seemingly pulling the others along, for they all mimicked his movement. “What we got from your father was one word: ‘bullshit.’”

  “He’s nothing if not consistent, then,” replied Puller. “Because that’s the same thing he told me.”

  “You read any meaning into that?” asked Schindler.

  Puller gazed over at him. “I’m not a shrink, sir. I don’t know what my dad meant by it, if anything.”

  “When was the last time you visited your brother at DB?” asked Daughtrey.

  “About six weeks ago. I try to get up to see him as often as I can. Sometimes the job gets in the way of that.”

  “What did he say during your last visit?”

  “Nothing about escaping, I can assure you.”

  “Okay, but what did he say?” Daughtrey persisted.

  “We talked about our father. He asked how my work at CID was going. I talked to him about being at DB. Asked him how it was going.”

  “Did you talk at all about his case?” asked Schindler. “What landed him in DB?”

  “It’s not a case anymore, sir. It’s a conviction. And no, we didn’t talk about it. What is there left to say?”

  Rinehart asked, “Do you have a theory on what happened with your brother’s escape?”

  “I’ve formed no opinion because I don’t know all the facts.”

  “The facts are still evolving. Suffice it to say the situation was most unusual.”

  “It would seem impossible that he’d be able to escape without some help. The backup generator failed? How likely is that? And who was the dead guy in his cell?”

  “So you are in possession of the facts?” said Schindler in an accusatory tone.

  “Some, not all. But who could have orchestrated something like that at DB?”

  “It is troubling,” said Rinehart, quite unnecessarily.

  “Has your brother tried to contact you?” asked Schindler.

  “No.”

  “If he does you will of course contact your superior immediately.”

  “I believe that would be my duty, yes.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked, Puller.”

  “I would contact my superior, yes.”

  Schindler handed him a card. “Actually, I’d rather you contacted me first.”

  Puller slipped the card into his pocket without answering.

  Daughtrey said, “I’m sure you’ve been warned to stay away from this case?”

  “My CO made that pretty clear.”

  “But since you’re an investigator, I’m also sure you’re quite interested in getting involved in this case, correct?”

  Puller gazed at the one-star. This was interesting territory, he thought.

  “I didn’t think it was up to me,” he replied. “A direct order is a direct order. I’ve put too many years in to torpedo my career over this.”

  “Over your brother, you mean,” said Daughtrey.

  Puller gazed at the man. “Do you want me involved in the investigation?”

  “That would go against all applicable military rules,” interjected Rinehart firmly.

  “Well, that doesn’t really answer my question, sir.”

  “I’m afraid that’s as good of an answer as you’re going to get, Puller,” said Schindler, rising. They all stood.

  “I’ve got leave coming up,” said Puller.

  Schindler smiled.

  “Well, then, I’d use it wisely if I were you.” He tapped Puller’s pocket where he’d put Schindler’s card. “And don’t forget to call me if something pops. Interest in this case goes up so high you’d need a tank of oxygen to breathe.”

  Daughtrey said, “One more question, Puller.”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Did you ever ask your brother if he was guilty?”

  The query surprised Puller, and he didn’t like to be surprised.

  “I did, once.”

  “And what did he tell you?”

  “He was noncommittal.”

  Daughtrey said, “And what do you think? Was he guilty?”

  Puller didn’t answer right away. It didn’t really matter what he thought about his brother’s guilt or innocence. It couldn’t change reality. Yet it seemed that all three men very much wanted to hear his answer.

  “I don’t want to believe that my brother was a traitor,” he finally said. That was really the best he could do, and he didn’t intend to say any more on the subject despite being outranked.

  Daughtrey said, “He was guilty, Puller. Because the court-martial said he was. Evidence was overwhelming. You may not have been privy to it, but we all were.”

  Rinehart said, “That’s all, Chief Puller. You’re dismissed.”

  Puller walked out wondering what the hell had just happened.

  CHAPTER

  6

  HE NEEDED TO think this through, but also talk things out with someone. And there was really only one person he could do that with. He lifted his phone from his pocket and punched in the number. She answered two rings later.

  “I heard,” Julie Carson said immediately. “You want to talk, right?”

  “Yeah. I just saw my father, and then I got a weird sort of third degree from a suit from the NSC and a couple of generals, one Army, one Air Force.”

  “What was the NSC’s name?”

  “James Schindler. I’ve got his card. He’s based in D.C.”

  “Who was the Army guy?” she asked.

  “Three-star named Aaron Rinehart, big guy, broken nose, hair shaved close to the scalp. He had about as many decorations on his chest as my father. His name is familiar.”

  “I’ve certainly heard of him, but don’t know him personally. Tough, no-nonsense, incredibly well connected, and moving up fast for his fourth star. There’s even talk he’ll be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs or Chief of Staff of the Army at some point. How about the flyboy?”

  “One-star named Daughtrey. He didn’t offer up his first name.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can find out. They’re all in the database somewhere.”

  “Thanks, Julie.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “You answered your phone when you obviously knew why I was calling. You could have played ostrich and dodged the bullet. You’ve got a new command down in Texas that I’m sure is keeping you busy twenty-four/seven. So thanks.”

  “I don’t much care
for ostriches. Never saw the point. And I’m getting these folks down here whipped into shape. I’ll call you later.”

  He hung up and sat back. He wasn’t thinking about his brother right now and his dilemma. He was thinking about the woman who had been on the other end of that conversation.

  When Puller had first met her, Julie Carson was an Army one-star assigned to the Pentagon with designs on at least one and possibly two more stars before her military career was finished. Puller had run into her during a case he was investigating in West Virginia. The two had started out as adversaries and then months later had ended up sharing a bed while Puller was investigating his aunt’s death at her home on the Gulf Coast of Florida. And Carson had almost been killed while trying to help him. Though badly wounded, she’d fully recovered. Puller still had nightmares about it.

  She had gotten her second star and with it a new command at an Army base in Texas. They had said their goodbyes over a bottle of wine and take-out Italian. The Army tended to get in the way of any permanent relationships among service members. He knew he might not see her in person again, at least for a while. After Texas the odds were she would be headed to the Pacific Northwest. After that, it was anyone’s guess. He was just glad that she had answered his call. Right now he needed a friend with stars on her shoulders.

  Later that day, he had just gotten back to his apartment near Quantico when his phone buzzed. It was Carson.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I eat while I talk,” she said. “I had time today to either eat lunch or do a five-mile run.”

  “And of course you opted to run.”

  “Don’t we all?” she replied as he heard utensils hitting a plate and liquid being poured into a glass.

  “You cook a lot down there?” he asked.

  “Are you giving me shit?” she said in a mock-reproachful tone.

  “No, I’m deadly serious,” he replied, though his tone wasn’t.

  “I almost never cook,” she said. “My mother would be so disappointed. Well, she is disappointed. She could fill the house with what she did in the kitchen. And the smells were like you wouldn’t believe. I played three sports in high school and I think part of me did it so I could eat my mom’s cooking and not get fat. Maybe that’s why I never even really tried to learn my way around the kitchen. I knew I could never be as good as she was.”

  “A little competitive, are we?”

  “Show me anyone in uniform who isn’t,” she shot back.

  He heard her gulp whatever she was drinking, and then her tone turned serious. “So let’s talk about your brother.”

  “I still can’t get my arms around it.”

  “John, how do you break out of DB?”

  “How much do you know about it?”

  “Mostly scuttlebutt, but there was a lot of it. A storm. Backup power failed. Reinforcements were called in. They restored order. Head count was done. And no Robert Puller in attendance. But there was mention of someone else who shouldn’t have been there.”

  “Then you know about as much as I do. And the someone else was dead and in my brother’s cell.”

  “Holy hell!” she exclaimed.

  “Pretty much says it all,” he said evenly.

  “I definitely hadn’t heard that. And no sign of him since?”

  “Apparently not. Don White, my CO, filled me in today. Then I went to see my father. I figured he might have heard and even with his condition he might be upset.”

  “And that’s when you ran into the suit and the generals?”

  “They asked me the standard questions: my visits to him, what we discussed. Then, if he contacted me, to contact them. But then it got weird, like I said on the phone.”

  “In what way weird?”

  “First, although they never came out and said it, I believe they want me to look into the case.”

  “How can that be? I’m sure your CO told you not to go near it.”

  “He did. And then the Air Force guy wanted to know if I thought my brother was guilty.”

  “And what did you say?”

  It suddenly occurred to Puller that he had never really talked about his brother with her. And it also seemed apparent that Carson wanted to know if Puller thought his brother was guilty.

  “I didn’t really answer him, because I’m not really sure what I think about it.”

  “Okay,” she said, though her tone made clear she was not satisfied by his reply.

  He said, “Did you find out anything about these guys?”

  “Rinehart’s assigned to DIA. At a very high level. It’s beyond my ability to find out much more than that. The same really goes for James Schindler at the NSC. He wasn’t in the military. He came up through the civilian side of NSA before moving on to the Security Council.”

  “I guess that makes sense. My brother was convicted of national security crimes. That cuts across all branches. And so does DIA. And the NSC has its finger in everything because of the president. What about Daughtrey?”

  “Timothy Daughtrey is attached to STRATCOM.”

  “Bingo! That was where my brother was working when he was arrested.” He paused. “It’s ironic.”

  “What is?”

  “Bobby was stationed at a STRATCOM satellite facility near Leavenworth when he was arrested and court-martialed. He didn’t have far to travel to go to DB.”

  “And the STRATCOM connection dovetails right into DIA and NSC because spooks all hang around the same playground,” she added.

  “I guess so,” said Puller slowly.

  “The FBI is of course all over this,” added Carson. “National security issues bring out all the big dogs. I would say your brother is the most wanted man in America right now. I wouldn’t think his chances of evading capture are very good.”

  “I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t been by to see me,” said Puller.

  “I would imagine if they haven’t been by they are at least keeping an eye on you. But it might be that Rinehart et al. have talked to them and made it clear they’re heading the John Puller piece of this equation.”

  “Complicated stuff.”

  “Yes, it is. I read up on your brother’s career this afternoon,” she added.

  “Did you?” he said sharply.

  “Hey, don’t cop an attitude. I like to be prepared. A lot of it was classified beyond even my clearances, and some of the files seemed to have been deleted, because there were gaps. Some of the pages I saw onscreen were heavily redacted, but from what I saw your brother’s career was still pretty damn impressive. I mean, the trajectory was like a rocket. He would have easily gotten his star, and more. I even dug up a white paper he’d written on a next-generation nuclear weaponry design. I could understand about every tenth word, and I don’t consider myself stupid. Some of the math equations in the paper looked like Chinese to me.”

  “He was always the smart one in the family. Officer material. I was just the enlisted grunt in the trenches.”

  “Did you ever ask him if he did it?” she asked bluntly.

  Puller said, “Once.”

  “And?”

  “And he didn’t answer me.”