12. Doc
DOC
“If you're kidnapping me, you're doing a terrible job.”
Hampton glances at me from behind the wheel.
“You aren't tied up.”
“My gun is gone.”
“Because you tried to shoot me.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I rescued you.”
I stare at him.
Hampton sighs.
“Fine. Kidnapped sounds more accurate.”
The truck bounces across the pasture hard enough to send pain burning through my injured ribs.
I grab the dashboard.
“You could use a road.”
“The sheriff is using the road.”
As if summoned by the words, an engine roars somewhere behind us.
Hampton looks in the mirror.
His expression changes.
“What?”
“Your girlfriend is persistent.”
“She isn't my girlfriend.”
“Then you should probably tell her that.”
I look through the rear window.
Sheriff Tate’s SUV crests the rise behind us.
Mara is in the passenger seat.
Even from this distance, I recognize her.
Hampton glances at me.
“You smiled.”
“No, I didn't.”
“You did.”
“Drive.”
“I've known you eighteen years and that's the first time I've seen you smile.”
“You haven't seen me in fifteen years.”
“Still counts.”
A bullet strikes the dirt several yards from the truck.
Hampton ducks.
“What the hell?”
I look back.
Wolf's truck has joined the chase.
Trigger leans out the passenger window.
I close my eyes.
“Idiots.”
“Your friends are shooting at us.”
“Warning shot.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if Trigger wanted to hit you, we'd be having a different conversation.”
Another round strikes the ground on Hampton's side.
He grips the wheel tighter.
“I liked him better unconscious.”
Despite myself, I almost laugh.
Then I remember Parker bleeding on the tavern floor.
My humor disappears.
“You shot a deputy.”
Hampton's face hardens.
“He fired first.”
“You had a weapon.”
“I was leaving.”
“With my case.”
“I needed those coordinates.”
“You could have asked.”
“Would you have given them to me?”
“No.”
“There you go.”
“You also searched Mara’s mother's house.”
“Yes.”
“You terrified Mara.”
“I didn't know she was there until I heard her upstairs.”
“You could have hurt her.”
Hampton looks at me.
“If I wanted Grant’s sister dead, she would be dead.”
My hand closes into a fist.
“Don't ever say that again.”
Something in my voice wipes the amusement from his face.
“I never wanted Mara hurt.”
“Someone does.”
“I know.”
“Who?”
“That's where we're going.”
I look ahead.
The pasture ends at a line of trees. Beyond it, I can see an old service road.
“Where?”
“A place Fred Miller should have told you about fifteen years ago.”
“What place?”
“Site Seventeen.”
My pulse changes.
“Seventeen was a file.”
“It was both.”
Of course it was.
“Explain.”
Hampton drives through a gap in the fence and onto the service road.
The truck fishtails before the tires catch.
“Operation Twenty-Three created File Seventeen. The physical records were moved to a temporary storage site after the operation was shut down.”
“Why?”
“To make them disappear.”
“Who ordered it?”
“People far above Fred Miller.”
“Names.”
“You always were impatient.”
“And you always talked too much without saying anything.”
Hampton almost smiles.
“Grant used to say that.”
“Don't.”
His expression changes.
“You think you're the only one who lost him?”
I turn toward him.
“You helped send us into that valley.”
“I tried to stop it.”
“That's not what Miller said.”
“Fred Miller spent fifteen years hiding because he followed an order he knew was wrong.”
“And you?”
“I spent fifteen years staying alive because I refused one.”
That silences me.
Hampton looks toward the mirror again.
Tate's SUV is closer.
So is Wolf.
“You were one of the seventeen contractors.”
“No.”
“We found the personnel sheet.”
“Then you found what they wanted investigators to find.”
“Your name was on it.”
“So were sixteen others.”
“Who were they?”
“Most of them didn't exist.”
Twenty-three never existed.
Now people don't exist either.
I'm beginning to hate numbers.
“How many were real?”
“Six.”
“Who?”
“Hampton. Miller. Three private contractors. And a man named Daniel Kane.”
The name hits me.
“Kane?”
Hampton looks at me.
“You remember him.”
Of course I remember him.
Grant’s journal.
Kane is going to get us all court-martialed if he doesn't stop running his mouth. Wolf nearly punched him tonight. Trigger took bets.
“Kane was a Ranger.”
“On paper.”
Cold spreads through me.
“What does that mean?”
“He was placed in your unit six months before the ambush.”
“By who?”
“The people running Twenty-Three.”
“Why?”
“To watch you.”
“Us?”
“Fred.”
That surprises me.
“Captain Miller?”
“Miller started asking questions about supply movements that didn't make sense. Men were moving through the base without appearing on official rosters. Equipment disappeared. Weapons arrived that weren't assigned to any unit.”
“What was Operation Twenty-Three?”
Hampton's hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“A pipeline.”
“For what?”
“Stolen military weapons.”
The answer is almost too simple.
Then I understand.
“Someone was moving weapons off the base.”
“Not just weapons. Communications equipment. Intelligence. Anything that could be sold.”
“And Grant found it.”
“No.”
I stare at him.
“Fred did.”
That changes everything.
“Miller discovered Twenty-Three?”
“Part of it.”
“Then why did Grant die?”
“Because Grant discovered Fred knew.”
I sit back.
Pieces shift.
Not into place.
But closer.
“Grant confronted Miller.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night before the ambush.”
“What did Miller tell him?”
“Enough.”
“And then Grant started making copies.”
“Yes.”
My chest tightens.
Grant knew.
He knew we were in danger before we entered that valley.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“He tried.”
I turn.
Hampton's eyes remain on the road.
“He went to your quarters that night. You weren't there.”
“Where was I?”
“Medical tent. One of the Afghan interpreters had a sick child.”
I remember.
A little boy with pneumonia.
I spent most of the night trying to stabilize him until a helicopter could take him to a larger facility.
Grant came looking for me.
And I wasn't there.
“He left me the paper.”
“The coordinates.”
“Yes.”
“He divided what he found.”
“Because he didn't know who to trust.”
“He trusted me.”
Hampton glances over.
“With his life.”
The words hurt.
“He died anyway.”
“So did a lot of people.”
“Don't.”
“You need to hear this, Doc.”
“I've heard enough.”
“No, you've spent fifteen years remembering the part where Grant died beneath your hands. You never bothered finding out what happened before that.”
Anger explodes through me.
I grab Hampton by the front of his jacket.
The truck swerves.
“Careful!”
“You don't get to tell me what I did after Grant died.”
“Then let go of me before we both join him.”
I release him.
The truck straightens.
For several seconds, neither of us speaks.
Then Hampton says quietly, “Grant knew he might not make it out of that valley.”
I stare through the windshield.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He wouldn't have gone.”
“He would if refusing meant warning the people behind Twenty-Three that he'd discovered them.”
“He could have told command.”
“Which command?”
That shuts me up.
Don't trust the man in command.
Maybe Grant wasn't talking about Fred Miller.
Maybe he wasn't talking about one man at all.
“Who was in command of Twenty-Three?”
Hampton doesn't answer.
I look at him.
“Who?”
“That's the name I don't have.”
“After fifteen years?”
“I know the title.”
“What title?”
Hampton looks at me.
“The Colonel.”
“That's it?”
“No name. No confirmed identity. Every instruction went through intermediaries.”
“Convenient.”
“You think I haven't spent fifteen years looking?”
“I don't know what you've spent fifteen years doing.”
“Trying to stay alive long enough to finish what Grant started.”
I laugh without humor.
“You have an interesting way of honoring him.”
“I didn't say I was a good man.”
At least we agree on something.
My phone isn't in my pocket.
Hampton took it before forcing me into the truck.
I look toward the mirror.
Mara is still behind us.
Closer now.
“What happens when we reach Site Seventeen?”
“You see the records.”
“And then?”
“You decide whether to believe me.”
“What about Mara?”
“She stays away.”
I laugh.
Hampton looks at me.
“You find that funny?”
“You don't know Mara.”
“I know she's Grant’s sister.”
“Exactly.”
“She'll follow.”
“She already is.”
Hampton curses.
“I told you to come alone.”
“And I didn't.”
“Technically, you did.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“Details.”
A smile threatens.
I hate him for it.
Site Seventeen turns out to be an abandoned livestock-processing facility.
Because apparently everyone involved in this conspiracy has an affection for abandoned buildings.
Hampton pulls through a rusted gate and stops beside a long concrete structure.
I look around.
“This is your secret government facility?”
“It hasn't been government property in twelve years.”
“It smells like dead cows.”
“That part hasn't changed.”
I get out.
Hampton tosses my pistol toward me.
I catch it.
That surprises me.
“If you wanted to kill me, you had plenty of opportunities,” he says.
“I still do.”
“Try not to until after you see what's inside.”
Sheriff Tate's SUV appears at the far end of the road.
Hampton looks at it.
“How did they get this close so fast?”
“Eagle River.”
“That doesn't explain anything.”
“It will.”
Mara's door opens before the SUV completely stops.
Of course it does.
She gets out with her weapon raised.
“Step away from Doc!”
Hampton looks at me.
“Deputy Ellis has a very loud voice.”
“You get used to it.”
“I heard that!” Mara shouts.
Hampton blinks.
I almost smile.
Sheriff Tate exits more sensibly and takes position behind the SUV door.
Wolf's truck stops behind him.
Wolf and Trigger get out.
Four weapons point at Hampton.
He raises his hands.
“This feels excessive.”
Trigger calls, “You hit me with a metal box.”
“You chased me.”
“I was offended.”
Wolf looks at him.
“You were unconscious.”
“I was offended when I woke up.”
Mara keeps her weapon trained on Hampton.
“Where is Captain Miller?”
“Safe.”
“That's not a location.”
“He's with state police.”
Sheriff Tate checks his radio.
A moment later, his expression confirms it.
“Miller surrendered at the stockyard.”
Hampton looks at me.
“See? Rescued.”
“You kidnapped Doc,” Mara says.
“I borrowed him.”
“You don't borrow people.”
“I was bringing him back.”
“Were you?”
“Eventually.”
I step between them.
Mostly because I'm afraid Mara might actually shoot him.
“There's something inside.”
Her gaze snaps to me.
“You're hurt.”
“I'm fine.”
“You were kidnapped.”
“I've had worse mornings.”
“It's nine o'clock.”
“Exactly.”
Trigger mutters, “I like them.”
Wolf says, “You would.”
Mara lowers her weapon slightly.
“What did he tell you?”
“Enough that we need to look.”
“You believe him?”
“No.”
Hampton puts a hand over his chest.
“That hurts.”
Mara points her gun at him again.
He lowers his hand.
“Right.”
Sheriff Tate approaches.
“No one enters until my deputies clear the building.”
Hampton shakes his head.
“You won't find anyone.”
“You're not the person I'm taking security advice from.”
“I've kept this place hidden for fifteen years.”
“And last night you broke into a tavern filled with law enforcement.”
“That was different.”
Trigger points at him.
“See? Everybody says that.”
Mara looks at me.
I look at her.
Neither of us laughs.
Almost.
The building is empty.
Mostly.
There are rats.
Trigger discovers one.
I have never seen an Army Ranger move that fast.
Mara looks at him.
“Seriously?”
“It surprised me.”
“It weighed six ounces.”
“It came out of nowhere.”
Wolf shakes his head. “You fought in Afghanistan.”
“There were no rats that size.”
“It was the size of my hand.”
“That is too big.”
Sheriff Tate walks past us.
“I'm surrounded by heroes.”
Hampton leads us into an old refrigeration room.
A steel cabinet stands against the back wall.
He removes a key from his pocket.
Mara immediately looks at me.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You looked at the key.”
“So did you.”
“Because someone stole mine.”
Hampton pauses.
“Grant’s key is really gone?”
“Yes.”
His expression darkens.
“That is bad.”
“Very insightful,” Mara says.
He opens the cabinet.
Inside are file boxes.
Old.
Dusty.
Real.
My pulse accelerates.
Hampton removes one.
He sets it on a metal table.
No one speaks.
I open the lid.
Personnel files.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Shipping manifests.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Mara stands beside me.
“This is what Grant found?”
“Part of it,” Hampton says.
I pull out the first folder.
The label reads:
OPERATION 23
OVERSIGHT AUTHORIZATION
My hands stop.
“Twenty-three existed.”
Hampton shakes his head.
“No.”
I look at him.
“This says?—”
“It existed here. It never existed anywhere official.”
Mara opens another file.
“There are photographs.”
She spreads them across the table.
Military officers.
Contractors.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
Some I recognize.
Most I don't.
Wolf picks up a shipping manifest.
“These are weapons.”
“Thousands of them,” Hampton says.
“Where did they go?”
“Everywhere.”
Sheriff Tate's expression hardens.
“This is federal.”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven't you taken it to federal authorities?”
Hampton laughs.
“Which ones?”
No one answers.
Mara pulls another photograph from the box.
Then stops.
“Doc.”
Something in her voice brings me beside her.
The photograph shows Grant.
Alive.
Standing outside this building.
My heart stops.
“What the hell?”
The date printed in the corner is six days before the ambush.
Grant had been here.
Hampton looks at the photograph.
“He followed Kane.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Kane was meeting the man running Twenty-Three.”
My hand tightens around the photograph.
“Did Grant see him?”
“Yes.”
“Then Grant knew who he was.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Hampton looks toward the cabinet.
“That's what I've been trying to find for fifteen years.”
Mara turns the photograph over.
Nothing.
Then she angles it toward the light.
“Wait.”
A reflection appears in one of the building’s dark windows behind Grant.
A man.
Only part of his face is visible.
But something on his uniform catches the light.
An insignia.
Wolf leans closer.
“Colonel.”
Hampton nods.
“The man in command.”
My pulse pounds.
Grant hadn't been warning us about Captain Fred Miller.
He had been warning us about the man running Operation Twenty-Three.
Mara reaches for another photograph.
A gunshot cracks outside.
Everyone freezes.
Then another.
Sheriff Tate draws his weapon.
“Down!”
We hit the floor.
Glass explodes inward.
Hampton reaches for the file box.
“No!”
I grab Mara and drag her behind the steel table as bullets tear into the room.
Wolf and Trigger return fire through the doorway.
Sheriff Tate shouts into his radio.
“Shots fired! North side!”
Hampton looks at me from behind the cabinet.
His face has gone pale.
“They found us.”
“Who?”
“The men who took Mara’s key.”
Mara raises her weapon.
“Then let's go ask them for it back.”
I look at her.
She looks at me.
“No.”
Her eyebrows rise.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Despite the bullets hitting the building around us, I hear Trigger laugh.
Mara smiles.
“You're catching up, Doc.”
Then she moves toward the door.
And because Grant clearly cursed me before he died, I follow.