a trick, a gag, to make a fool out of him...
But he noticed a brick to the right that seemed just faintly lighter than the rest. He reached out to it, tugged—and it came neatly away from the wall. He crawled closer, looked inside. There was a hole back there, behind the brick. And in it was a parcel wrapped in black plastic. He reached in, pulled the parcel out, and slowly wormed his way back out from under the dumpster.
He was glad to be out in the cold, bracing air. He stuck the package in his pocket, looked around, saw a drunk weaving down the alley down on his left.
Wolfe turned right, and headed for the nearest train station.
He decided to wait till he was back at home base to look in the package. Waiting wasn’t easily. He badly wanted to look...
This will change everything...
CHAPTER SEVEN
S eline Garnera walked out of O’Hare airport, looking for a taxi to her hotel. She still had her duffel bag for luggage, but she wasn’t wearing a uniform. She had a long white Armani coat on over a charcoal-colored suit, things she’d bought on her layover in London.
There was a line for taxis. She got in the line, and waited, trying to get clear in her mind the reason she had come to Chicago at all.
She was relieved to be out of the Marine Corps, in comfortable walking shoes, in civilian clothes, with her long black hair on her shoulders just the way she liked it. Sure, she was proud of serving in the Marines. But the military had some toxic seams deep down in it, like something deadly you’d find in a mine.
Probably she used the mine analogy, thinking about it, because her dad was a retired mining engineer. He’d worked in tin and copper and gold mines all over the world. After she’d gotten that nerve-wracking meeting in Chicago over, she planned to fly to Northern Georgia to see her dad. He was going to be relieved she wasn’t on that aircraft carrier anymore. He’d always been afraid terrorists would hit it when it was in port.
She hadn’t seen much action—except off the coast of Libya during the overthrow of Gaddafi—but she’d done her part. She’d advanced to Chief Computer Security Specialist, and she’d found it interesting. But she had the misfortune, at least a misfortune in the military, of being a pretty good looking woman, and she’d had to fend off a lot of knuckleheads on that flattop. Carriers were mostly crewed by Navy men with some Marines on board, almost all of them men. Rough, lonely men. The worst that had happened was one groping, and some inappropriate talk. But she’d put a stop to it.
Her C.O. had been sympathetic, and he’d put the groper in the brig for a month. The Commander in Chief, the President of the USA himself, had pledged zero tolerance for sexual harassment and it had been working in the last year. The knuckleheads were starting to leave her alone. She’d even dated a naval lieutenant, when she was on leave, a nice guy who’d treated her in a gentlemanly way. Seline had been thinking about “re-upping”, signing up for another four years...
But then she’d come across the “Van Ness files”. And the military had soured for her. She didn’t blame the whole military. She still believed in military service. But she had to get out, if she was to get any justice for Ruth Medina.
General Van Ness was Army, not Marines, but there were Marines involved in this too. And one Central Intelligence Agency attaché who’d disappeared...right after transmitting the Van Ness files to Seline.
Oh yes, Seline had known the CIA attaché—they’d been pretty good friends. She was civilian, a confident, sharp-eyed career CIA agent about forty years old: Ruth Medina, Italian-American like Seline. Ruth had been on the carrier, had transferred from the base on the island of Socotra, assigned to communications with North African classified troop activities. Agent Medina had done her job quietly, and sometimes she and Seline had eaten dinner together in the cafeteria,
But he noticed a brick to the right that seemed just faintly lighter than the rest. He reached out to it, tugged—and it came neatly away from the wall. He crawled closer, looked inside. There was a hole back there, behind the brick. And in it was a parcel wrapped in black plastic. He reached in, pulled the parcel out, and slowly wormed his way back out from under the dumpster.
He was glad to be out in the cold, bracing air. He stuck the package in his pocket, looked around, saw a drunk weaving down the alley down on his left.
Wolfe turned right, and headed for the nearest train station.
He decided to wait till he was back at home base to look in the package. Waiting wasn’t easily. He badly wanted to look...
This will change everything...
CHAPTER SEVEN
S eline Garnera walked out of O’Hare airport, looking for a taxi to her hotel. She still had her duffel bag for luggage, but she wasn’t wearing a uniform. She had a long white Armani coat on over a charcoal-colored suit, things she’d bought on her layover in London.
There was a line for taxis. She got in the line, and waited, trying to get clear in her mind the reason she had come to Chicago at all.
She was relieved to be out of the Marine Corps, in comfortable walking shoes, in civilian clothes, with her long black hair on her shoulders just the way she liked it. Sure, she was proud of serving in the Marines. But the military had some toxic seams deep down in it, like something deadly you’d find in a mine.
Probably she used the mine analogy, thinking about it, because her dad was a retired mining engineer. He’d worked in tin and copper and gold mines all over the world. After she’d gotten that nerve-wracking meeting in Chicago over, she planned to fly to Northern Georgia to see her dad. He was going to be relieved she wasn’t on that aircraft carrier anymore. He’d always been afraid terrorists would hit it when it was in port.
She hadn’t seen much action—except off the coast of Libya during the overthrow of Gaddafi—but she’d done her part. She’d advanced to Chief Computer Security Specialist, and she’d found it interesting. But she had the misfortune, at least a misfortune in the military, of being a pretty good looking woman, and she’d had to fend off a lot of knuckleheads on that flattop. Carriers were mostly crewed by Navy men with some Marines on board, almost all of them men. Rough, lonely men. The worst that had happened was one groping, and some inappropriate talk. But she’d put a stop to it.
Her C.O. had been sympathetic, and he’d put the groper in the brig for a month. The Commander in Chief, the President of the USA himself, had pledged zero tolerance for sexual harassment and it had been working in the last year. The knuckleheads were starting to leave her alone. She’d even dated a naval lieutenant, when she was on leave, a nice guy who’d treated her in a gentlemanly way. Seline had been thinking about “re-upping”, signing up for another four years...
But then she’d come across the “Van Ness files”. And the military had soured for her. She didn’t blame the whole military. She still believed in military service. But she had to get out, if she was to get any justice for Ruth Medina.
General Van Ness was Army, not Marines, but there were Marines involved in this too. And one Central Intelligence Agency attaché who’d disappeared...right after transmitting the Van Ness files to Seline.
Oh yes, Seline had known the CIA attaché—they’d been pretty good friends. She was civilian, a confident, sharp-eyed career CIA agent about forty years old: Ruth Medina, Italian-American like Seline. Ruth had been on the carrier, had transferred from the base on the island of Socotra, assigned to communications with North African classified troop activities. Agent Medina had done her job quietly, and sometimes she and Seline had eaten dinner together in the cafeteria,
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