Finest Hour (28 page)

Geraldo’s arms and legs twitched and then went limp, as his body dangled lifelessly from the headlock. Tanner leaned back and jerked a second time, this time feeling the man’s spine pull away from his skull.

One down, four to go.

Chapter 17  

Dr. Green stood near the end of a long white building that had been converted into a repair hangar. Helicopters were spread as far as the eye could see, easily a hundred, perhaps many more. Most were UH-60 Blackhawks, but there were also AH-64 Apaches and CH-47 Chinooks. She watched as General Richard “Chappie” Reed approached, his executive officer walking beside him.

Reed was a man whose reputation preceded him in nearly every circle. Wearing his eccentric bush hat, jungle boots, and Ka-Bar knife, he was a true outcast from the mainstream officer corps. By all accounts, he was also a real pain in the ass. More than once, West Point officers had tried to subjugate him to the sidelines, and more than once, they had found themselves riding a desk for their efforts. Reed was a man who knew how to wage war, and that was a skill still valued by those at the very top.

The question Dr. Green had yet to answer was whether or not he too was involved in the conspiracy. Reed had ties to both General Hood and General Carr, and she had no idea on which side of the fence he came down.

Despite being thirty minutes late for their meeting, the general continued right past her, offering nothing more than a quick nod.

“Ma’am.”

She stood for a moment, slightly dumbfounded.

“General,” she called, hurrying after him, “I’m Sara Green. We had a meeting.”

Without slowing, he looked back and said, “I know who you are, Dr. Green.”

“Sir, I don’t think you—”

“Chappie.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone calls me Chappie.”

“You’re a general in the United States Army. I would feel more comfortable addressing you as—”

“If you want my attention, you’ll call me Chappie,” he said, ducking into the hangar. “As for my being a general, the only reason that’s true is because the rest of em’s dead.”

She felt herself growing frustrated.

“General!”

He kept walking.

“Chappie!”

He stopped and glanced back at her. “You coming?”

“Excuse me?”

He nodded toward a small office in the corner of the metal hanger.

“To the meeting. We’re late.”

“I know we’re late,” she said, hurrying up to him. “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

He walked over to the office door and pushed it open. The only furnishings were a plain gray desk, an old swivel chair, a coat rack, which he immediately tossed his hat onto, a garbage can, and a large brass spittoon that looked like it belonged in a bull-riding saloon.

“Sir, I was hoping—”

“Chappie.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Chappie, I was hoping we could discuss an important matter.”

“You know what you get if you hope in one hand, piss in the other, and then rub the two together?”

Dr. Green crossed her arms. “I surely do not.”

“Wet hands.” He gave the desk a quick
ba-dum-bump
with his palms. “What is it that brought you out to my airfield?”

“
Your
airfield?”

“I command the entire Army Special Operations aviation regiment. Every rotor, cockpit, and wheel on that airfield belongs to me.”

Dr. Green was at a loss for words. Never in her life had she met a man so difficult to have a simple conversation with.

“You had something you came here to say. Kindly get on with it.”

She raised her eyebrows.

His only reaction was to wink.

She sighed, feeling completely off balance.

“General,” she snapped, “I don’t have time for games. Are you interested in hearing me out or not?”

“Of course, I am,” he said, sitting back as if surprised by her tone. “If I weren’t, why would I have agreed to meet with you?”

“I was asking myself the same question.”

General Reed opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pouch of chewing tobacco. He offered it to her, and when she made a disgusted face, he pinched out a wad and stuffed it between his lip and gum.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you that that stuff will kill you.”

“No, ma’am, you do not.” He folded the pouch and tucked it away. “Now, how might I help you?”

She took a moment to collect herself.

“You may have heard that I’ve been asked to head the investigation into the allegations against President Pike and General Hood.”

 “I did, and you have my heartfelt congratulations.” He spat a few shreds of tobacco into the spittoon. “I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”

“I came to see whether you might want to be part of that team.”

“I’m a soldier, ma’am, not an investigator. Hell, I wouldn’t know how to spell investigator.”

“I believe that. I truly do.”

He grinned, and she couldn’t help but do the same.

“Ma’am, that’s something you’ll learn about me. You can believe everything that comes out of my mouth.” He offered a big toothy smile. “That’s one reason I’m so popular with the ladies.”

“General—”

“Chappie.”

She growled, but it was more playful this time.

“The team is going to be made up of people from every part of the administration, and that includes the military. Admiral Roger Bivy is—”

“A complete pussy.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

“I once saw that old fart turn tail when a few of his rowboats caught fire. I’ve always said that Navy officers have marshmallows in their sacks.”

She took a step away from his desk.

“I can see that I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Thinking your brake oil is root beer would be a terrible mistake. This,” he motioned between them, “this is what we call a miscalculation.”

“Either way, I can see that you’re not interested.”

“I never said any such thing.”

“But you—”

Chappie spat into the spittoon.

“I only said I wasn’t an investigator.”

“Are you saying that you
want
to be on the team?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not we get to fly out to Greenbrier to see who’s lying.”

She studied him. It was perhaps the most interesting thing he could have said.

“We do.”

He nodded. “All right, then. I’m in.”

She tipped her nose up. “To be honest, General, I haven’t yet made up my mind as to whether or not you’d be a good fit.”

He smiled. “Course I’m a good fit.”

“Oh? And why would you think that?”

He leaned forward and stared into her eyes.

“Because, Dr. Green, I’m the only one on your team who could give a shit, one way or the other.”

Shortly after Dr. Green left, Chappie called in his executive officer, Major Brent Waller. Waller was a career army officer, slick, well polished, and the opposite of everything Chappie exemplified. Despite their overt differences, the two men had developed an immediate friendship, and now, nearly twenty years later, each counted the other as a brother.

The two men stood at the door to the hangar, watching Dr. Green as she traversed the long airfield.

“Have the boys keep an eye on her,” said Chappie.

“Anything in particular?”

“I need to know who she’s talking to and what kind of questions she’s asking.”

“You’re worried that she’s working for Pike?”

“No, I’m worried that she’s going to uncover something that she shouldn’t.”

“And if she does?”

“If she does, we may have to read her in.”

“Is that your brain or your balls talking?”

Chappie pulled the wad of tobacco from his mouth and flicked it away.

“A little of both, I guess.”

Waller nodded. “We’ll watch her. Anything else?”

“How long until the Shadow goes up?”

“The RQ-7 team is moving into place now. They should have the unmanned aerial vehicle in the air by nightfall.”

“Good,” he said, catching one final glimpse of Dr. Green before she disappeared around the corner. “I want eyes on that bunker.”

President Pike was facing a dilemma, one brought to light by his ghostly lover, Yumi Tanaka. Despite her corporeal limitations, Yumi was still able to offer valuable insights, and he trusted her counsel above all others. She was, after all, an extension of himself and therefore, beyond reproach or second-guessing.

At Yumi’s insistence, he had called a meeting with his vice president. Stinson was to be the fall guy. The dupe. The chump. The patsy who proudly wore the banner of shame when things went south. And things would almost certainly go south. Not in more than two hundred years had anyone engaged in the kind of fundamental nation building that they were undertaking with the construction of the New Colonies. It promised to be a painful process that brought about as much suffering as it did security.

Despite the challenges, Pike was certain that the effort would eventually succeed. And when it did, he would be exalted as the current generation’s George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, all rolled into one. Stinson, on the other hand, would be the Dan Quayle, a man remembered for his lack of experience, not to mention his inability to spell the word “potato.”

But there was also another reason for meeting with Stinson. Pike needed to get him out of the way for a while. The situation with General Hood’s cleanup was still very tenuous, and having a successor ready in the wings was not conducive to garnering unfettered support. If Hood succeeded, Pike would be exonerated, and Stinson could reappear as little more than the annoyance he was today.

Even if General Hood failed, there was still a chance to salvage the presidency. All that really needed to happen was for Rosalyn Glass and her co-conspirators to be properly dispatched. If their bodies were to be discovered or a witness were to step forward, the entire sordid affair would be pinned on Hood. The killing of the marshals at Glynco, the bombing of Lexington, and now the attack on Greenbrier would all be tied to a rogue general. Pike’s fingerprints were faint at best, and key military officers had already indicated their willingness to look the other way, should it come to that. They recognized, and rightly so in Pike’s opinion, that the nation’s survival was more important than a little political infighting.

Hood would need to be killed, of course. But that was going to take place regardless of his success or failure. He was the only person left alive who knew where the skeletons were buried, and thus by necessity, had to join them. It was fitting that his demise would be at the hands of his own men. That fortuitous arrangement had been brokered when Pike learned of the displeasure the Black Dogs felt over their recent loss of ten men, a loss they blamed on poor intelligence provided by General Hood. Once the mission was complete, it was agreed that the general would be burned and buried alongside any bodies recovered from the bunker. With Hood and Glass both removed, Pike could finally get on with fulfilling his true legacy. Not only would he be celebrated as the greatest president to have ever lived, he would ultimately ascend to a level reserved for gods and despots.