Chapter 40
brIGADIER GENERAL MORGAN SAT IN his living room, fidgeting with a crystal figurine of a pig. He had not bothered to dust off his pants or boots and had tracked sand across the rug and onto his couch.
He set the pig on the glass coffee table, next to Brodie’s and Taylor’s SIG Sauers and CID badges.
He looked up at the two agents, who were seated across from him, in fresh clothes.
“Angela collects those things. They cost a fortune, and she hauls them around to our different duty stations. I never really understood it, but now I do. They’re so impractical, you’d only have things like this at a place you called home, right?
And that’s the way she goes about things, making the best. I’m resigned to being a nomad, but that can mess with your mind.
And while I’ve been counting down the days until I can leave this godforsaken place, what I really ought to have been doing is pretending it’s home.
Like Angela. Because we defend our homes with the greatest vigor, don’t we?
It’s human nature.” He gestured to the table.
“That pig is a flag planted in the earth.”
Brodie stared at the crystal pig, trying to figure out if General Morgan had gone completely off the deep end, or whether he himself was losing his mind from psychedelics and sleep deprivation. “It’s a fine pig, sir.”
“Don’t be a wiseass, Brodie. You’re in shit up to your ears.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You allowed a suspect in your custody to slice open his jugular. I don’t need to be in law enforcement to know you screwed up big-time.
” The man sighed. “I have a choice to make here. Do I allow you to continue your investigation, or do I ship you back to Quantico and file a report that will most likely have you both facing criminal charges for aiding a mutiny?”
Neither Brodie nor Taylor responded.
“That was not a rhetorical question, agents.”
Taylor said, “Sir, it is our duty to continue our investigation.”
“Has your investigation figured out what Praetorian is? Klasky told me Dixon found the rogue software in the D-17 code. Or maybe she put it there. Maybe she colluded with the major.”
The agents were silent.
“Klasky wouldn’t have the technical skill to conduct that kind of sabotage. Who was he working with?”
Brodie said, “We cannot share details of an ongoing criminal investigation.”
“Bullshit!” yelled Morgan. He shot up from the couch. “One of those fucking things is still out there, and if it kills anyone else it is on you, do you understand?”
Brodie stood. “No, sir, it is not. And you do not need to know the details of our investigation to know how to stop it. Your men usually fight a dozen tin men at a time. They should be able to find and neutralize one, and a lame one at that.”
Morgan ground his jaw. “This is different.”
“Right,” said Brodie. “New scenario, new playbook. Maybe you should have been switching it up a little more in training to better prepare them.”
“You’re out of line, Chief.”
Brodie looked at the general, and in that moment something clicked.
Brigadier General Morgan was not a member of the conspiracy, but whoever had recommended him for this mission might be.
Morgan was a stubborn son of a bitch with an agenda, and it fit that he’d have his men repeat the same drill ad infinitum until they won.
After all, doing the same thing over and over should give the best chance of success by virtue of refinement and training.
Except, what if the battle is unwinnable?
Then it’s just psychological torture. And maybe General Morgan was following the script exactly as his superiors wanted, while thinking he was getting away with something.
His own pathologies were being used against him and his men.
What had he said at their dinner? That if the brass saw the Rangers’ repeated losses as a failure, they would have replaced Morgan. He might not have known just how right he was.
Do it.
Bucky wanted them at each other’s throats. It wanted Greer to shoot Miller in the back.
Brodie thought of Greer up on the mesa when the full memory of that awful moment had come back to him. Oh my God. What are these things?
He thought about Colonel Howe, and Major Klasky, and Captain Pickman. It was a toxic stew of personalities, primed to explode under stress. And maybe that was the point. Maybe everything about this place was part of a psyop.
Brodie said, “Sir, I strongly suggest you put a tight and well-resourced security perimeter around the Vault and let no one in, for any reason whatsoever. Not even those you feel you trust most.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”
“Because even if you neutralize Lenny, we’re not out of the woods.”
“What does that mean?”
Neither of them responded.
“Goddammit. If you have intelligence that will help me better protect my people—”
Taylor interrupted, “We told you how to protect your people. Seal off the Vault. Keep things quiet.” She added, “No more public fireworks displays.”
Morgan didn’t seem to like that. But he did not respond.
Taylor continued, “We would also recommend that you release Colonel Howe and the MPs from home confinement. They’re a resource.”
He shook his head. “They have lost my trust and the privilege of serving at this facility.” He added, “You didn’t mention releasing Ms. Dixon. I find that interesting.”
Brodie said, “Don’t read too much into it. All we ask is that we can visit her for questioning if and when needed.”
“You can.”
“And we want all phone service restored.”
Morgan shook his head. “The one thing Howe did right. Until everything’s buttoned up, we’re sticking to walkies.” He leaned down, grabbed the agents’ badges, and tossed them over. “I’m keeping your guns. Because I only half trust you.”
Brodie said, “Sir—”
“End of discussion.”
“We need protection.”
“You’ve got it. Five dozen Rangers are on the hunt for a gimped tin man. They’ll get him.”
Brodie and Taylor walked to the door, and then Morgan said, “It’s hiding. They’ve never done that before.”
Taylor turned to the general. “It’s adapting to its circumstances. It’s injured and alone.”
“But these things don’t care about self-preservation. We’ve all seen that. Why not attack, and see what damage it can do before it’s destroyed?”
Brodie answered, “Maybe that doesn’t fit its objective. Maybe it has other plans.”
Morgan thought about that. “The game has changed.”
Brodie said, “Yes, it has, sir. We just have to figure out how.”