“Yes, sir! Please hold, sir!”
Sanders hung up. He wiped the phone off with a napkin. “That’s called getting the Army out of bed.”
“But who was it?” Kurt asked.
“Fort Devens, Massachusetts, the headquarters for the Army Security Agency. A Status Black emergency is the code term used to indicate confirmed civilian fatalities from an unknown hazard. They won’t waste any time responding to a call like that, and once they get a look at what’s in the basement…”
“Now I get it,” Kurt said.
“My car’s parked in the woods half a mile off. Let’s get out of here. In about twenty minutes, an Army Field Emergency Investigation Platoon will be coming through that door more pissed off than a pack of mad Dobermans.”
Kurt rose to leave but stopped midway out of his seat. The stack of money was looking him right in the eye. It wasn’t his; he couldn’t take it.
“Take it,” Sanders said.
“But it’s…it’s unethical.”
“Take it or leave it. We gotta go.”
Kurt clenched his teeth.
He grabbed the banded bills with both hands and left the house.
— | — | —
EPILOGUE
By noon the area around Willard’s mansion was a fanfare of uniforms. The gravel road that led to the house had been blocked off by a manned sentry post. Stoic-faced and armed with M16A2 assault rifles, ASA MP’s guarded all points of access to the house and maintained 50- and 25-meter guard perimeters. Drab green trucks lined the road up, five-tons and deuce and a halfs. Army technicians made a constant parade in and out of the house. Sitting awesomely in the front yard were two helicopters, a Bell 206 Jetranger from Fort Devens, and a Sikorsky Black Hawk from Washington. A very queer-looking vehicle (that Sanders had called a “gamma goat”) had been backed up to the front porch. It had big wheels and a flat cargo bed in back. Kurt could guess what it would soon be transporting.
Shortly after Kurt and Sanders had left the house, a team of Army field investigators had arrived from Fort Meade, Maryland. After an initial report, a Field Hazard Alert Squad had been trucked to Belleau Wood from the Edgewood Arsenal near Aberdeen. Then came a DECON platoon and two Control and Assessment Units, flown in all the way from Fort McClellen, Alabama. A lot of brass had arrived by dawn, colonels and majors, and even a brigadier general from the Washington Military District. The last thing to arrive was a truckload of men from 12th Army Forensics. Kurt wondered what their reactions had been when they’d first seen the ghala in the basement.
Kurt, Sanders, and Vicky stood off the access road, looking up the hill.
“Believe me, ASA will be very cool about this,” Sanders remarked. “No one will ever know what happened.”
“But what about the two ghala in the pen?” Vicky asked.
“The Army will find a way to safely contain them,” Sanders told her. “I’m sure that’s what they’re working on now. Then they’ll transport them to the proper research facilities, probably the FRL at Fort Gordon, Georgia.”
“And they’ll snowjob the press and the police,” Kurt added.
“You can count on that,” Sanders said. “That’s why I called ASA. No loose lips in that bunch.”
At least two dozen county police officers had amassed at the bottom of the hill; they stood stalled and clustered before the armed sentry post. Bard and Lieutenant Choate were trying to bully their way in. They were arguing, unsuccessfully, with a black ASA captain in hard-starched fatigues.
Bard’s face was puckered. “Don’t you understand English! I said there have been
The ASA captain stood feet apart, hands on hips. “I understand English quite well,
“This is a potential crime scene in my authorized jurisdiction!” Choate barked. “Maryland law entitles me to enter any potential crime scene in my sector of responsibility!”
The captain’s head stiffened back an inch. His cap visor hid his eyes. “I don’t live in Maryland, thank the Lord. And I don’t give two whorehouse hoots about Maryland law.”
“Goddamn it!” Choate yelled. “I have a right to know what’s happening in my jurisdiction!”
The captain gave a short laugh. “It’s not your jurisdiction any more,” and he jabbed his thumb into his own chest. “It’s mine. And if you try to set one foot past my guards, I’ll arrest you for trespassing on a military outpost. I’ll arrest any of you civilian types who try to compromise my security perimeter.”
“Smart-ass grunt,” Bard said, pointing a finger. “This is my town. You can’t tell
“Sure I can, Slim,” the captain came back. “And if you’re smart you’ll get out of my face before you wind up with a size eleven bootprint on your fat ass.”
“Now see here, Captain,” Choate began.
The captain turned his head. “Sergeant of the Guard!”
“Yes, sir!” a shout came back.
“These two civilians are obstructing the efficiency of this security point! Prepare to arrest them on my order!”
“Yes, sir!” A tall, rock-hard staff sergeant stepped away from the sentry post. In his huge hands he held two pairs of subdued milspec handcuffs. Two privates with rifles followed him up.
Bard and Choate backed down. Choate disgustedly ordered his men back to their cruisers. Bard turned away, enraged.
“These guys don’t fool around,” Sanders said.
But Kurt was howling laughter. Bard waddled up, absolutely red in the face. “What’s so funny, Morris?”
“Nothing, Chief,” Kurt wheezed. “I just loved the way you told that guy off. You really know how to show them who’s boss around here.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Sanders said to Bard. “When ASA says no, they mean no.”
Bard squinted at him. “Who the hell are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Chief,” Kurt said. “This is Jim Smith, an old Army buddy.”
“You weren’t in the Army,” Bard said.
“I meant old high school buddy.”
Bard glared. “He’s ten years older than you, at least.”
“Actually Chief, this is my long lost Uncle Dick.”
“Uncle Dick my ass,” Bard muttered. He looked at Kurt hard. “You’re acting mighty funny today. I’d swear you know something I don’t.”
“Oh, come on, Chief. What makes you say that?”
“I dunno. Just a feeling I got in my gut.”
“You sure about that?”
“Scout’s honor.”
Bard gave them all his best scowl, then stomped away for his Thunderbird.
“Cool guy,” Sanders commented.
“Don’t mind him,” Vicky said. “He was born sitting on a thornbush.”
