Brett Battles - No Return

Lars got slowly to his feet and, after a brief pause, saluted. If the commander read any disrespect in the delay, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Don’t let me stop you eating,” Forman said.

Lars sat back down, but didn’t touch the food.

Forman leaned against the wall near the door and regarded Lars for a moment. “I trust you’ve been treated well.”

“Well enough.”

The commander moved the ends of his mouth up in an imitation of a smile. “Lieutenant Commander Andersen, were my orders unclear?”

“No, sir.”

“Could you repeat them back to me, please?”

Lars chose to remain silent.

Frowning, the commander said, “Your little excursion last night. What was that all about?”

“There are duties I have that don’t fall under your command.” A beat, then, “Sir.”

The ridge along Forman’s cheek began to redden. “You are in a hell of a lot of trouble, you know that?”

Lars locked eyes with Forman. “Commander, if there is any trouble here, that would belong to you.”

“And what the hell does that mean?”

“It means I’ve learned just how deep this cover-up of yours goes. Figured out your little arrangement with Laredyne. Oh, and I found out about Jamieson, too.”

Forman froze just long enough for Lars to know he’d been right. Smiling to himself, Lars picked up his fork and started in on his breakfast again.

“Lieutenant Commander, I’m disappointed. I really thought you understood.” Forman paused. “I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you are destroyed. And I’ll tell you another thing, since you weren’t able to finish the job on your friend, Stewart, I’m going to finish it for you.”

Lars cut one of the sausages with his fork and put a piece in his mouth, chewing it several times before swallowing. “Commander Forman. You can go to hell.”

Forman glared at him, then pounded twice on the door. When it opened, he looked back at Lars. “You have just ruined more than your career.”

Lars kept his expression unchanged, making sure Forman got the message that he didn’t care what the commander thought.

After Forman left, he put the fork back down and pushed the plate away. The truth was, he was worried. Not about his career, but about his own life. Affixing the blame to him would be so much easier if he were dead.

Several hours later, after his unfinished breakfast had been removed, and the lunch he had no desire to eat had been delivered, the door opened again. This time it looked like his request to speak to someone had been granted, as his new visitor was Lieutenant Commander Meyers.

“Janice?” Lars said.

“Lieutenant Commander Andersen.” She looked at the untouched tray of food sitting on his cot. “Is there something the matter with your lunch?”

“Just not hungry,” he said, confused by her formality.

“I see. Is there anything you need?”

“I’m fine.”

She positioned herself between him and the door.

“Water? A bathroom break?” Her voice dropped. “Are you okay?”

“Pen,” he mouthed. “I said I’m fine.”

She gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. “Would you like me to take your tray for you?”

“Yes. Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

She walked over to the cot. As she bent down, she slipped a hand into her pocket, pulled out a pen, and dropped it on the bed.

“No,” he whispered.

She hesitated, confused.

“On second thought,” he said in a normal voice, “can I eat the fruit first?”

“Of course.”

She backed off and Lars sat down next to the tray. When she was once again blocking him from the door, he scribbled a message on the napkin.

“How did you get in here?” he whispered as he wrote.

“When you didn’t show up this morning, Commander Knudsen found out you were being held here. He sent me to check on you. They didn’t want to let me in, but they didn’t have much choice. What happened?”

So his request for a meeting hadn’t been passed on. “No time,” he said as he finished the note. He tapped the napkin. “Promise me you’ll do what it says.”

“You can count on me.”

He smiled, then quickly ate the cup of fruit.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

As she leaned down to get the tray, she crumpled the napkin into her hand, then shoved it in her pocket and turned for the door.

“If you need me for anything, please let one of your guards know. I’ll instruct them they are to contact me immediately.”

Once she was gone, he lay down on the cot. He’d learned early on in his Navy career to take advantage of opportunities as they presented themselves. Janice had been an opportunity, quite possibly the only one he was going to get. Now all he could do was sit tight and see if it paid off.

Wes had seen enough movies and worked on enough crime documentaries to know that even when a cellphone wasn’t being used, it could be tracked. As soon as he finished talking to Casey, he removed the battery, then went in search of another pay phone.

He found one in the park just east of the police station. It was a bit more exposed than the one at the 7-Eleven, but it did provide him with nearly unlimited avenues of escape.

Casey picked up on the first ring.

“Where are you now?” Wes said.

“I went down to-”

“Wait,” Wes cut him off. “I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t tell me. We can’t talk too long. And as soon as we’re done, take the battery out of your phone and go someplace else.”

Casey hesitated. “Uh, all right. But how will I know it’s okay to go back home?”

“Digger,” Wes said, using Casey’s brother’s nickname. “When things have settled down, I’ll call Digger with the all clear. Check in with … them, just not too often. Wait until at least tomorrow morning to start.”

“Jesus, Wes. What have you gotten into?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be okay,” Wes said. “Now tell me what you found.”

“Right. Okay,” Casey said. There was the sound of paper flipping. “SCORCH first. It was developed by a company called Laredyne Industries. Apparently they have been pushing very hard for the Navy to adopt it. If I’d had more time, I could have probably dug up more details, but what I did learn is that there’s been a pretty vigorous debate about it in both the military and in Congress, with those opposed to the Laredyne system supporting a slightly different one developed by Nickerson Avionics.”

“Okay, so the SCORCH backers won. So what?”

“They didn’t exactly win,” Casey said. “Not yet, anyway. Technically it’s still in the testing phase. Funding for fleet-wide activation is part of an appropriations bill up for a vote in Congress next week. But I’m told several reps and a few senators aren’t fans of the system. So there’s a good chance that the bill won’t get passed unless SCORCH is removed.”

“Interesting,” Wes said, still unsure how it fit in with what was happening. “Anything else?”

Casey paused. “The next thing I looked into was Project Pastiche. Do you have that list of names you read off to me?”

“Hold on.” Wes found the page. “Okay. Got it.”

“Skip the personnel section; I hadn’t been able to find out much there before you told me to leave. Look at the names under ‘Pool 7B.’ ”

“Looking at them now.”

“I was able to identify Lieutenants Lemon, Briley, and, of course, Adair. What do you think they have in common?”

“I assume they were all assigned to this PP-214 division at some point.”

“They’ve all been reported as dead.”

“Seriously?”