What Doesn't Kill You (A Suspense Collection) (17 page)

Peter nodded. “Yes, I have.”

“Do you agree with it?”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Peter began to get curious
about where Walsh was going with it.

“Great. In your line of work one can’t wear
rose-colored glasses.”

“I stopped wearing those back in middle school.”

Walsh glanced at his wristwatch. “How about a little
warm-up session, Peter?” He got up. “I want you to talk to Pollack’s wife,
Linda.”

“You brought his wife here?”

“Yes. I prefer to keep my trump cards close by.
Besides, I deemed her a flight risk.”

Chapter 2

1.

“Are you going to report this to the Department of
Defense?” Peter asked as soon as they entered the colonel’s office. “I doubt
they’ll be happy about you killing Pollack’s wife.”

“Secretary Lautner gave me the authority to do whatever
I deem necessary to extract information from Pollack.” Walsh eased into his
chair. “You see, this is a very special situation, Peter. Max Pollack is an
extremely dangerous man. He’s part of a conspiracy to harm the United States.
The worst thing is, we have no idea what kind of damage this conspiracy may
cause. The whole country could be destroyed a week from now for all we know.”

“Colonel, you killed an innocent person, who, by the
way, was an American citizen. I thought only the President could sanction
something like this. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to rock the boat. I’m
just pointing out that this could get you in big trouble.”

“I understand, Peter. I appreciate your concern, but I
assure you that we dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’ when it comes to
proper authorization. I personally promised Pollack that his wife would die if
he didn’t talk. I gave him two days. Those two days were up this noon. We’re
not playing games here, Peter. We’re serious people. If we have to execute
Pollack’s entire family to make him spill the beans, we’ll do it without
hesitation.” Walsh lifted his right index finger. “Let me show you something.”
The colonel swiveled to the safe, quickly entered the combination, opened the
door, and produced a black plastic folder. “You’re right, only the President
can sanction what we’ve done to Linda Pollack. This is a secret executive order
signed by President Moore a year ago. It authorizes me to do whatever is
necessary to preserve and promote the national security of this country. It
grants me and my subordinates legal immunity from prosecution for any actions
undertaken in the name of national security.”

Peter ran his eyes over the document in the black
folder and then handed it back to Walsh. “When Pollack finds out that you
murdered his wife, you can say goodbye to any chance of him talking to you. You
do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes. Can you do me a favor? When you meet Pollack
today, don’t tell him that we’ve executed his wife. I’d like to deliver this
news to him myself. When the time is right. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure.”

“Not a word, under any circumstances. Just forget it
ever happened, okay?”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut on this.”

“Very good. I’m counting on you.”

There was a knock on the door, and Walsh gave the
visitor permission to enter. A man in Army uniform, who appeared to be in his
early thirties, came through the doorway and saluted the colonel. Walsh
acknowledged the salute with a nod and said, “This is my assistant, Lieutenant
Daniel Schmidt. I instructed him to make your stay here as comfortable as
possible, so if you need anything, feel free to contact Danny; he’ll do his
best to organize it.”

Peter shook Daniel’s hand.

“Lieutenant Schmidt will show you your room. It’s not
much, but it’s one of the best we’ve got.” Walsh checked his watch. “You have
about two and a half hours until you meet Pollack. I’ll see you later tonight.”

2.

“Do you have a cellphone with you, Mister Anderson?”
Schmidt asked when he and Peter stepped out of Walsh’s office.

“Yes, I do.”

“Did you bring any other communication or recording
devices? 

Peter shook his head. “No, just the cell.”

“Can I have it please? You’ll get it back when you
leave the base.”

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

“This is Colonel Walsh’s order. I’m sorry, there are no
exceptions, Mister Anderson.”

“Okay.” Peter pulled his cellphone out of his pocket
and handed it to Schmidt. “Can you at least let me know when I get a phone
call? My boss in D.C. might call me.”

“I’ll ask Colonel Walsh about it.”

“Yes, please do that. My boss hates it when his calls
are not returned.”

“Did you bring any weapons with you?”

“I brought my service pistol. Do you want it, too?”

“Yes, please. I’ll give it back to you when you leave.”

Peter debated with himself for a few seconds if he
should create a scandal over his gun, and then complied with Lieutenant
Schmidt’s request. The Fairmont Training Center must be one of the safest
places in America; he didn’t really need a pistol here, did he? Besides, Peter
knew whose side his division chief would be in this argument—the guy with a
letter of indulgence from the President of the United States.

3.

“Sir, are you carrying any weapons?” the guard asked.
“Guns, knives, grenades?”

Peter turned his head back to confirm that the massive
boxy device he had just walked through was a metal detector. Well, it looked
a
lot
like a metal detector, and a sophisticated one at that. Perhaps the
guard didn’t trust machines.

“No, I left my gun with Lieutenant Schmidt,” he finally
replied.

“Please raise your arms, sir. I’m going to search you.”

The guard patted Peter down thoroughly and then
motioned him toward the door at the end of the corridor. Peter was pleased to
see that he hadn’t been singled out: Sergeant Gary Adams, the soldier sent by
Walsh to escort him to Max Pollack’s cell, was subjected to a pat-down, as
well.

A large rectangular sign to the right of the door
informed Peter that he was about to enter Block D. Sergeant Adams input the
passcode into the panel on the wall, opened the door, and said to Peter, “After
you, sir.”

They started down the well-lit hallway, Adams following
three feet behind Peter. Thirty yards later, they stopped in front of a solid
metal door guarded by two soldiers. There was a keypad panel on the wall. Adams
handed Peter the folding chair he had brought with him. “This is for you, sir.”

Peter thanked the sergeant and tucked the chair under
his arm.

“Can you please step back?” Adams said.

Peter gave the sergeant a nod and carried out his
request. Adams turned to the door and, using his body to block the keypad from
Peter’s view, punched in the code, which consisted of six digits according to
Peter’s count. When the green light lit up at the top of the panel, the
sergeant produced a key from his pants pocket, inserted it into the keyhole,
and then twisted it.

To Peter’s amusement, the door didn’t open. There
apparently was one more step Adams had to take. Or maybe even more than one.

The sergeant pressed the button to the right of the
green light and said, leaning towards the panel, “Your move, sir.”

“Okay, Sergeant,” Walsh’s voice came out of the
intercom speaker.

“Is Colonel Walsh watching us?” Peter asked with a
smile. He looked around, found the surveillance camera, and waved at it.

“He sure is,” Adams replied.

There was a low clinking sound, and then the sergeant
pulled the door open.

“I’ll be waiting for you outside, sir,” Adams said as
Peter walked into the cell.

END OF SAMPLE

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