carpet, a gracious host.
“The State Department is sending a babysitter,” added the colonel. “There’s some protocol crap we have to deal with. It won’t get in your way, I promise.”
The colonel ran down a tentative schedule on deployment — first thing tomorrow morning.
Everyone in the room was used to dealing with rapid deployments, but 0400 was going to be tight, and Zen watched the concern rise on Major Alou’s face. Alou, who would be in charge of the Megafortresses, had to round up full crews for two aircraft, get support people in place, move supplies, fuel.
“Major Alou, problem?” asked Dog.
“What the hell language do they speak in Brunei, anyway?”
Everyone laughed.
“Malay and English,” said Stoner. “You’ll be able to get by very well with English.”
“Zen, problem?” asked Dog, turning to him. “I know you were looking for a deployment next week.”
Zen shrugged. He’d already told two of his best Flighthawk trainee pilots to stand by. Rounding up the maintainers and other technical people would be a pain — but not particularly out of the ordinary. Most of the key people wore pagers when they were off campus, for just such a contingency.
“We can do it,” said Zen. “We just have to hustle.”
“I know it’s impossibly short notice, but those are our orders,” said Dog. “I’m going on the mission myself, and will serve as one of the Megafortress pilots. Major Catsman will stay here and take care of the farm. Questions?”
The colonel paused for his usual quarter of a second before slapping his hand on the desk and rising.
“Let’s do it, then.”
“Colonel, what’s the story with Jennifer Gleason?” asked Major Alou. “Is she under arrest or something?”
“Jennifer?” said Zen, taken by surprise.
Dog turned to Danny Freah.
“Jen is being questioned about possible security violations,” said Danny.
“What violations?” asked Zen.
“I can’t get into details,” said Danny. “Look, my advice for everyone is to simply cooperate and answer whatever questions that come up. It’s just an informal inquiry, not an investigation.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Zen. He turned to Dog. “Jennifer? A spy? Shit.”
Dog started to say something, but Danny interrupted. “Colonel Bastian can’t comment on anything in any way that would be considered prejudicial.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Zen.
Dog put up his hand. “All right. Obviously, because of what we do we’re under special scrutiny. All of us, not just Jennifer.”
“I wanted her along to handle the computers and whatnot,” said Zen. Technical staff often accompanied the Dreamland team on missions, even those in combat zones.
“You better find someone else,” said Danny. “At least for a couple of days.”
“Colonel?”
“Is she essential for the deployment?” asked Dog.
“Not essential. But—”
“At this point, I think Danny’s right. Once Colonel Cortend is finished talking to her I’m sure she’ll be fine to come back.”
TWO HOURS LATER,dog finally finished squaring away everything that needed to be squared away before he left with the rest of the team for Brunei. He needed to get sleep — if takeoff time didn’t slip, he’d be briefing his flight in a couple of hours. But more important than sleep, he wanted to talk to Jennifer.
He wanted to call her. In theory, there was no reason not to.
It might not look good, however, not if there had been a real violation of security protocols. As unit commander, he would eventually have to deal with the matter.
He could recuse himself, of course. Probably he had to.
Or just put an end to the whole thing.
No doubt if he did that, Dreamland’s enemies would seize on it as ammunition for
He reached for the phone. No harm in calling her, for cryin’ out loud.
He dialed the lab but then remembered that she had no computer access; Danny had had to cut it off as soon as he learned about the possible security breach, as minor as it was. He paused, trying to remember her apartment number without going to the directory.
When he dialed it, her voice mail answered.
Maybe she was taking this harder than he thought.
Or maybe she was out partying.
Before Dog could leave a message, there was a knock on the door. He looked up and saw Colonel Cortend spreading her frown across the threshhold, trailed by a Dreamland security team and several of her aides. He put down the phone and waved her inside.
“Captain Freah said you’d be here,” said Cortend, sitting in the chair nearest his desk.
“I often am,” said Dog. “I understand you’ve been questioning my people.”
“I’ve questioned several of your people, yes. On an informal basis. They’ve all volunteered to cooperate.”
Dog let that particular fiction pass.
“Let’s get to the marrow on this,” said Cortend. “There’s no need for fencing.”
“I’m a right-to-the-marrow guy myself,” said Dog. He slid back in his seat, knowing that Cortend had come to ask about Jennifer.
And perhaps exactly because that thought occurred to him, he glanced toward the door and saw her standing behind Cortend’s aides, frozen, as if she’d taken a step inside before spotting them.
Was she really there? Or was it some strange trick of his imagination.
“Lieutenant Colonel Bastian,” snapped Cortend.
“Excuse me a second,” said Dog, rising. He turned his attention to Cortend for just a moment as he got up, and by the time he looked back at the door she was gone.
Gone?
Dog walked out into the outer office, past the reception area and then into the hall.
It was empty. The elevator was open.
Hallucination?
No, she’d definitely been here. Somewhere.
Jen would have taken the stairs. She’d seen Cortend’s people or the back of her head, and split.
Wise move, really. Too bad he couldn’t do that.
Dog walked back to his office. This time he pulled the door closed behind him.
“Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“You are seeing Ms. Gleason, are you not?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Colonel, let me remind you—”
“I’m not denying that I see her. But for the record, my personal life is my personal life.”
“Ms. Gleason is a civilian employee under your supervision,” said Cortend. “As a matter of law and regulation, it would be possible for her to charge you with sexual harassment.”
“Has she?” said Dog.
“She has not.”
“You don’t really think she’s a spy, do you?” he said, tiring of her games. His voice was considerably more level than he felt.
“I try not to form judgments before I finish my job,” said Cortend. “I understand the situation might be difficult for you.”
