Chapter 37
AS THEY APPROACHED THE EASTERN edge of the camp, Brodie looked up at the dark guard tower, which appeared to still be deserted. They made their way to the crawl space beneath the fence and saw that no one had returned the oil drums to their place.
Greer stopped at the fence and looked down at the shallow tunnel.
Brodie said, “I’ll go first, then Greer, then Taylor.” He kept his eyes on Greer, trying to read the guy. “We doing okay, soldier?”
Greer said nothing, his eyes fixed on the tunnel beneath the fence. He was either psyching himself up or psyching himself out, or maybe staring into the gaping maw of a sand monster that was about to eat him. Hard to tell.
Brodie decided to lead by example. He got on his stomach and crawled beneath the fence, then rose to his feet and looked around.
He was standing on the northeastern edge of the camp’s helipad.
A Black Hawk sat on the southern end, and near it was a parked Humvee.
In between the vehicles, a streetlamp threw a hard circle of white light. He did not see anyone around.
He looked through the fence at Greer. “Your turn, Private.”
Greer took a deep breath, then got on his stomach and crawled through. Taylor followed.
Greer looked around him at the bright lights that washed out the starry sky. He seemed like he might be regretting his decision.
Taylor took the private’s arm and said to Brodie, “We need to get to the lab and see if we can access a computer.”
“No one will be there at this hour, and it will be locked. We’re better off knocking on doors and waking someone up. Dixon or Spencer.”
“We don’t know who we can trust.”
“Flip a coin.”
“Lab first. Maybe there’s a way to break in.”
Brodie eyed PFC Greer, who was staring wide-eyed at the parked Black Hawk and Humvee. Brodie said to Taylor, “All right. Sounds fun.”
They moved quickly across the northern edge of the helipad and then down a dusty road with single-story concrete buildings on either side. They avoided the throws of the streetlamps and kept to the pockets of darkness.
Greer was looking increasingly disoriented, and Taylor had to pull him along to make sure he stuck with them. Whatever had brought him peace up on that mesa was long gone down here in Camp Hades.
Suddenly Greer slammed his back against a concrete wall and said, too loudly, “Someone’s there.”
“Quiet,” whispered Brodie.
Brodie signaled for them both to stay put, then crept forward. About twenty yards ahead on his right was a Quonset hut. A single bare bulb hanging from its exterior illuminated two MPs flanking the door. They were both armed with M4 rifles.
He went back to Taylor and Greer. “Is that the armory?”
Greer nodded.
“We’re going around it. Follow me.”
They crossed the road and headed down a narrow alley between two buildings. Through the darkened windows of the building on their right, Brodie saw rows of long tables and benches, and saloon doors that led to a kitchen. The mess hall.
Suddenly they heard a vehicle roar down the road and screech to a halt in front of the armory.
Brodie doubled back and peered around the building in time to see a floodlight hit the two MPs, blinding them.
Someone barked orders as silhouettes poured out of the vehicle and quickly overwhelmed the two guards, disarming them and slamming them against the outer wall of the hut.
Taylor and Greer were behind Brodie, watching, and Brodie could hear Greer hyperventilating. He looked at the man, whose eyes were wide open and unblinking as he stared at the dark shapes in the floodlight. The guy was still somewhere around Pluto.
There were at least eight Rangers out of the vehicle now, two of them with sidearms. A Ranger patted down the MPs and took a key ring, while another unhooked a coil of zip ties from one MP’s belt and cuffed the two terrified policemen.
The Ranger with the keys unlocked the armory, and then the men began emptying it of rifles, RPGs, grenade launchers, and crates of ordnance. They each equipped themselves with rifles and sidearms and put the rest of the gear in their truck.
Greer began to walk out from their cover toward the men. Brodie grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Stay put.”
Greer looked down at Brodie’s hand around his left biceps. Then he grabbed Brodie’s wrist with his right hand and squeezed it hard to loosen his grip, then twisted away and ran toward the Rangers.
Brodie and Taylor hung back and watched as Greer ran toward the floodlight. The startled Rangers swung their weapons in his direction, and for a moment Brodie feared the worst was about to happen.
Greer tripped and fell on his face, then rolled onto his back in the dusty road and stayed there.
One of the guys said, “Tom? What are you doing?”
A few more voices started talking over each other, and someone laughed. “He’s totally fucked up.”
Greer started cackling. Two Rangers picked him up and he said to them, “I’m in hell.”
“Yeah,” said one of the guys as he put his arm around Greer. “Welcome back.”
Another Ranger walked forward, in silhouette before the floodlight, and asked Greer, “Where are the CID agents?”
It was Sergeant First Class Mike Miller.
Greer turned and pointed toward their position, and Brodie and Taylor bolted down the alleyway, then made a few more random turns as they ran. Eventually they stopped behind a dumpster next to a large building.
Taylor said, “Mutiny? Counter-mutiny? What the hell is going on here?”
“What’s going on is that seven MPs were never going to be able to hold this place down. Colonel Howe miscalculated. And now we have to operate in this clusterfuck without getting arrested for aiding a mutiny, or whatever charges General Morgan will cook up.”
He switched on his walkie and cycled the channels to see if he could hear any chatter. Nothing but dead air.
Then he heard some commotion to the west of their position, and the sound of a fast-moving vehicle.
He tried to pull up a mental image of Camp Hayden’s layout. In their haste to get away from the Rangers he was pretty sure they’d doubled back too far east of the lab. They needed to head west, and a little to the north.
He signaled to Taylor, then moved quickly down a dirt roadway.
They made a few more turns, and then Brodie could hear voices ahead. As they approached the DEVCOM lab building, he could make out the voice of Caroline Dixon. She didn’t sound happy.
They edged around the corner, enough so they had a view of the front of the lab, illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. A group of six Rangers stood by the front door, which was ajar.
In their midst, Dixon was cuffed and yelling at a staff sergeant as they led her away.
Taylor whispered, “Scott…”
“Just wait.”
They watched as the Rangers put Dixon in the back of a Humvee, her cursing at them the whole time, then they all got in, with two in the back on either side of her, and the vehicle sped off.
Brodie now spotted a figure in the open doorway of the lab. The person moved out a little into the light and watched the Humvee drive away. It was Major Klasky.
Brodie and Taylor waited a few more moments, then stepped out. Brodie said, “Good evening, Major.”
Klasky whipped his head around, startled. Then he looked at them curiously. “What are you doing here?”
“I have the same question. You first.”
The man nodded. “I’m responsible for operational security at Camp Hayden, so I’ve got a monitor set up to detect unauthorized or suspicious activity on the network.
I got an alert about an hour ago that someone had connected to an external server.
I rushed over here and found Caroline Dixon transferring code using an FTP client.
That’s classified Intel. As officers of the law, I’m sure you’re aware of the gravity of that. ”
Brodie said, “I’m sure we are.”
Klasky continued, “She was defiant, insisted she’d done nothing wrong.
She wouldn’t tell me what she had sent or to whom.
I radioed the MPs. I got no response on their channel, or any of the other channels, including yours, and then the Rangers rolled up.
One of them told me they’d disarmed the MP doing room checks and then busted out. ”
Right. That couldn’t have been too hard.
And from there, all they had to do was get the jump on whatever other MPs were on duty, which could have been just the two at the armory, and one more guarding General Morgan’s house.
Meanwhile, the Rangers were monitoring all comms channels using the walkies they seized along the way.
Klasky added, “I had them move Dixon to house arrest, and if I were you, I’d interview her to see what you can find out.”
Taylor asked, “Do you know what happened with Colonel Howe?”
“No. But I’d bet they’ve detained her too. Or are about to. And they are putting Morgan back in command. This is horrible.”
Brodie said, “Yes, it is, Major. I have a feeling that whatever semblance of order remained here is about to unravel.” He added, “We need access to a computer.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“CID business.”
“You sound as cagey as Dixon.”
Brodie eyed the major, who had taken a small step back to place himself in the open doorway. Should Brodie deck his ass? Probably a bad idea.
Brodie said, “The details of our investigation are not your business, and aiding us in our investigation when needed is your responsibility. We need access to a computer. Right now.”
Klasky hesitated a moment, then nodded and stepped aside.
They entered the lab. The overhead lights were off, and the only illumination came from a few desk lamps scattered about.
The major led them to a closed laptop computer on a large metal desk with two office chairs.
Brodie was about to open the computer when he noticed that Taylor’s eyes were locked on something at the far end of the room. Brodie followed her look, to the small room at the rear of the lab with the glass window. Inside it on the metal table was a D-17 unit, lit from above by a hanging light.