Chapter 7
Monica sat stiffly in the chair across from Stuart’s Naval commander.
Dylan Huttner was an imposing man, and it didn’t help that he reminded her a lot of her father.
He had similar brown hair and eyes, as well as an authoritative presence.
He was a man who was used to being obeyed and not questioned.
But in other ways, he was as far from her dad as he could get. The commander was obviously in great shape, unlike her father the last time she’d seen him. He was also doing his best to put her at ease, which was something Darren Collins never worried about.
She still couldn’t believe Stuart had spoken to his superior officer the way he had when they’d arrived this morning.
When he’d been informed that he wasn’t allowed to sit in on the interview, Stuart had pitched a fit.
There was no other way to describe it. Monica was sure he was going to get court martialed, or whatever it was called in the Navy, but after a tense moment, the commander finally nodded once.
“It’ll be fine,” Stuart had told her before steering her into the conference room they were currently occupying.
The chair she was sitting in was surprisingly comfortable.
She’d kind of expected a metal folding chair and a spotlight.
That was ridiculous, of course, but she hadn’t expected the cushioned swivel chairs, the glasses and pitcher of water, and the muted lighting.
If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought she was in some high-end business conference room.
Although, wasn’t that what the Navy was? A business?
Her gaze flicked to the other man in the room. Mustang, Stuart’s team leader, was also sitting in on the interrogation. That’s not what the men were calling this, but that’s what it felt like. She was there against her will, and it sure felt as if she was being blamed for something.
“Tell me what happened the day of the evacuation. And don’t leave anything out,” Commander Huttner said without preliminaries.
Monica wanted to roll her eyes, but she refrained. There was no point in antagonizing the man. Even if he’d given her no choice in the matter, he’d let her stay at Stuart’s home, and had let him remain in the room.
So she started the retelling of what had happened in Algeria.
She explained how she’d been concerned when the Laws family hadn’t returned when they said they would, and how she was considering going to the embassy on her own when she heard a sound at the sliding glass door at the back of the house.
She described the man she saw, the feeling he’d given her, and how she’d hidden in the secret room in Desmond and Ophelia’s bedroom.
She told the commander about watching the man on the security monitors as he rifled through the rooms.
She didn’t leave anything out in her retelling, including the fact she’d been prepared to shoot Stuart and Slate.
She was describing how they’d escaped the house when the commander interrupted her.
“Can you tell me more about the man who shot out the door?”
“Like what?”
“Go over what he looked like again.”
Monica mentally sighed. She’d already given him as good a description as she could.
But she didn’t let her irritation show. She simply told him again.
“He was shorter than Stuart and Slate,” she said.
“Older too. I’m not great with ages, but if I had to guess, I’d say anywhere between forty-five and fifty-five?
He had a piece of cloth pulled up over his mouth and nose, but his hair was visible, and it was black with gray streaks.
Not a lot, but they were there. I know that doesn’t automatically make him older, but that’s the impression I got from the lines around his eyes and from his overall demeanor.
He was in shape. His eyes were dark. I’d say they were black, but that’s not really possible. So probably a dark brown.”
Monica stopped speaking and waited for the commander’s next question.
“What else?”
She frowned. “What else what?”
“What else can you tell me about him? I need more than that if I’m going to ID him.”
“Um…he had a tattoo on his left forearm,” Monica said.
The commander leaned forward. “Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Monica jumped when the man slammed his palm on the table and barked, “Think!”
“Sir—” Mustang began, but Stuart wasn’t as composed as his friend.
He abruptly stood and put a hand on the table as he leaned toward his boss.
“Not happening,” he said in a tone Monica hadn’t heard from him before.
It was low and extremely pissed off. “You and I both know forcing Miss Collins to be here wasn’t exactly legal.
But she still came. She’s trying to help, and you scaring the shit out of her isn’t going to make her remember anything else. Ease. Off.”
Monica held her breath. She was certain Stuart was about to be thrown in the brig any second. She had no idea if the Navy still used such a thing, but she didn’t think there was any way the commander would put up with one of his subordinates speaking to him like that. And she was right.
“You know I can put a letter of reprimand in your file for continually talking to me like this, right?” the commander asked Stuart in a stern voice.
Monica tensed further. She didn’t like being the reason Stuart might get in trouble.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Stuart replied. “But Monica is doing the best she can.”
To her surprise, the commander sat back in his chair. “I know.” He turned to her. “I appreciate your assistance.”
Monica was surprised at the man’s sudden acquiescence.
He then stood and began to pace. “This situation is delicate,” the commander told them.
“Then explain it to us,” Mustang said. “When I tried to discuss it yesterday, you said you’d brief me later. It’s later.”
“Not in front of a civilian.”
“Monica might be a civilian, but in order to work in the ambassador’s home, she had to get security clearance,” Stuart pointed out.
“And she’s involved. It’s obvious she’s one of the best leads you have to catch this guy, whoever he is, and it seems increasingly obvious her life may be in danger because of him.
The least you can do after forcing her to upend her existence and come to Hawaii is share why IDing this guy is so important. ”
The commander released a frustrated sigh.
“Because this guy is good. Really fucking good. He’s got an unending number of aliases and he’s able to slip into any country he wants without leaving a trace.
His MO is the same everywhere he goes. He picks countries dealing with civil unrest and blends in with the protestors.
He incites them to violence, leads the charge in looting, helping himself to whatever he can get his hands on, then he disappears like the wind when things have spiraled out of control. ”
“How do you know all this?” Mustang asked.
“Because he’s been taunting us,” the commander answered.
“How?” Stuart asked.
“By sending encrypted emails.”
“To who?” Stuart pressed.
“High-ranking Naval commanders. Myself, Storm North, Dag Creasy, Patrick Hurt, and others. SEAL commanders,” Huttner clarified.
“Shit,” Mustang swore.
“He really was a SEAL?” Monica asked softly.
“Probably,” the commander verified. “I’d bet my career on it.”
“Could it be someone from a team that’s been assigned to the area?” Stuart asked.
“No. I’ve already checked. There were two other SEAL teams helping with the extraction of civilians in Algiers, and they were all accounted for when Monica said she saw this guy.
He’s older, like Monica suggested, and I’m thinking he’s retired…
or maybe he was kicked out of the Navy and now he’s pissed. ”
“And using his training to ‘stick it to the man’ so-to-speak,” Mustang said.
“Exactly. But he’s escalating. There was a particular incident in Hong Kong a while back, and this asshole claimed to have beaten, raped, and killed three women in the midst of the chaos…
which was later confirmed. Same thing in Barcelona, Beirut, Santiago…
he takes great pride in emailing details about the people he’s killed. ”
The commander paused in his pacing to reach for the tablet he’d been taking notes on while interviewing Monica. He clicked on it a few times, then handed it to Mustang. “While you were traveling back from Algeria, he sent that to me and the other commanders.”
Monica itched to see what the email said, but she sat quietly as Mustang read the screen.
Without a word, he passed the tablet to Stuart.
Monica studied his face as he read, and it was obvious whatever the mystery man had sent, it wasn’t good.
Stuart’s jaw ticked in agitation and his breathing sped up.
“Damn,” he said when he was done, handing the tablet back across the table to Huttner.
“This behavior is partly why I insisted Ms. Collins accompany you,” the commander said.
“What’d he say?” Monica asked, not able to keep quiet anymore.
“It wasn’t what he said, so much as the picture that accompanied his email,” Huttner answered.
“Can I see it?” Monica asked.
All three men tensed. “No,” Mustang and Stuart said in unison. The same time their commander said, “Yes.”
“She doesn’t need to see that,” Stuart insisted.
“Maybe if she does, she’ll understand that I’m not trying to be an asshole,” Huttner countered. “She’s one of the only people we know of who’s seen this guy, who might be able to identify him. If my assumption is right, and he’s a former SEAL, maybe she can ID him from pictures.”
“You know the chances of that are slim to none,” Stuart argued. “He had his face covered, and there’s no telling how long it’s been since he was active duty.”
“She’s all we have right now. And the longer he’s out there, the more people are in danger,” Huttner insisted.
Stuart and his commander glared at each other, neither backing down.
“If you’re worried about me seeing something gruesome, don’t be. I’ve seen a dead body before.”