Julia Spencer-Fleming - One Was a Soldier

“He’s got a right to be nervous.” Russ shifted on his box. The combination of cold and inactivity was making his hip ache. “He’s betting everything on this.”

“Nichols isn’t the first soldier to go stupid and start thinking with the wrong head.” Tony sighed. “And Seelye, sad to say, isn’t going to be the first officer to be tempted by all the money they’ve got floating around over there. The stories I could tell you-” He broke off as Nichols grabbed the handle and opened the employees’ entrance.

Lieutenant Colonel Arlene Seelye stepped in. She was dressed as anonymously as Nichols-dark jeans, dark shirt, dark windbreaker. Nichols said, “Colonel,” but she held up her hand. She glanced around her, then strode past him into the corridor. She walked up toward the hotel-side entrance and back down, past Russ and Tony, past the CID captain, past the loot itself, scanning left and right. She poked her head into the darkened break room but didn’t turn on the lights. Evidently satisfied, she returned to Nichols’s side. “Quentan Nichols.” She looked him up and down. “I’m still not convinced you’re not yanking my chain. What’s really going on here?”

Nichols took two dancing steps into the corridor, like a nervous junkie about to make a deal. Now they were both under one of the dangling fluorescent lights. In perfect focus for the camera. “I told you. I waited until Tally McNabb’s old man was gone and then I searched that house from basement to attic. I found a reference that made me think it might be here, and it is.”

She shook her head. “I think you knew all along. I think she made you a partner when you agreed to help her steal that money from Balad Air Base. So why do you need my help now?”

“I didn’t know where it was! I didn’t even know what it was she was moving!”

Russ tensed. Keep cool, Quentan. Don’t jerk the line. Just reel her in.

Nichols breathed in. “It’s too much for me to shift. And it’s too much for me to deal with. I’m offering you a fifty-fifty split. I show you where it’s stored, you launder the money. If you don’t want in, the door’s that way.” He pointed.

Seelye paused. “Okay. I’m in. Show me what you’ve got.”

Beside him, Russ felt Tony Usher’s muscles bunch as he clenched his fist in triumph.

Nichols and Seelye passed them. Russ could hear the soft scrape of the cardboard tower moving over concrete, and then the rumble of the dolly being rolled into the corridor. “Help me with this,” Seelye said. “I want to see what we’ve got.” There was a faint grunt and then the sound of plastic slapping onto the floor. There was a long pause. Russ looked at Tony. The JAG officer shook his head. Russ nodded. They wanted her to take the money into possession.

“FDIC tags and all,” Seelye said. “I’d have to match it up to make sure, but it looks like the shipment that was stolen from Balad.”

Tony frowned.

“Excellent work, Chief Nichols.”

The employees’ entrance slammed open. Russ leaped from his seat, his Glock already in his hand. He broke from the blind, empty cardboard boxes tumbling into the boots and black-clad legs of the men pounding up the corridor, and he shouted, “Stop! Police!” hearing his voice huge, reverberating off the walls, many voices, all screaming, “Stop! Police!”

A helmeted and armor-clad man skidded, faced him, M-9 semiautomatic braced and ready, bellowing, “Police! Put your weapon down! Put your hands in the air!”

From the other side of the hall, Russ heard Lyle roaring the exact same words. They were everywhere: shouted commands and weapons and body armor and bright yellow letters screaming MILITARY POLICE.

Russ reversed his Glock and raised his hands. The MP opposite him tore the sidearm from his grasp and shoved him around. “Lyle, give up your gun,” Russ yelled.

The guy behind him pushed him hard enough to make him stumble. “Shut up!”

“MKPD, put up your weapons!” They could sort out this disaster, but if someone got shot-

“I said shut up and get on the floor!” His MP’s voice was on the edge of wild. He shoved Russ with the bore of his M-9 this time. Russ shut up. He got down, one knee and then the other, but he was too slow for the kid behind him. The MP slammed him forward, jolting the breath out of his body. Russ lay panting on the cold concrete, craning his head to see while the MP cuffed him. He spotted Nichols cuffed and on the floor, saw the CID captain down on both knees, hands in the air and his mouth going a mile a minute, saw Seelye, dark shirt yanked aside, unstrapping the wire taped to her T-shirt. She was talking to an officer in BDUs whose body armor and MILITARY POLICE vest looked at odds with his fleshy body and fifty-something face.

She glanced down. Blinked. Blinked again. “Chief Van Alstyne? What the hell are you doing here?”

This time, the fight started because Eric was putting on a uniform.

“What are you doing?” Jennifer’s voice caught him up short, laying out his BDUs after his shower. “It’s Tuesday. You don’t have anything Guard-related.”

He had figured no one at the resort would answer his questions if he was in civvies, unless he wanted to misrepresent himself as a plainclothes detective. On the other hand, he was pretty sure no one would call his reserve unit to ask why one of their MPs was at the hotel, interviewing the human resources director. Not that that made it any less of a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. He was edgy, already having second thoughts, and that was why he snapped at her instead of just blowing it off.

“What are you, my personal calendar?”

“You haven’t done anything except mope around the house and go to those useless veterans group meetings since you got suspended. Now all of a sudden you’re getting ready to report? What’s going on?” She paled. “Oh, Jesus. You’re not converting your enlistment to regular army, are you?”

“No.” He tugged on his pants.

“Then what?”

He spun around. “I’m trying to help out a friend by asking a few questions. That’s all. For chrissake, get off my back.”

“Asking a few questions? You mean, like pretending you’re working as an MP? You can’t do that, Eric. If you get caught you could face charges. You could lose your job!” She moved in close, forcing herself into his line of sight. “For God’s sake, what are we supposed to do if you get bounced off the force? You’re in a precarious enough position as it-”

“Why can’t you for one frigging time just support me?” He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and began yanking his socks on. “Why is it always criticizing and fault-finding and looking at me like I’m a goddamn monster because of what I have to do?”

“What are you talking about?” She stepped back.

“I am trying, Jen. I am trying all the time, and you never notice, and you never appreciate it. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“Then tell me! For the love of God, I’m here! I’m listening!”

He picked up one boot. “You don’t want to hear it.”

She made a strangled noise and spun around in a circle, something she did when she got too frustrated to stand still. “No, you just don’t want to face your feelings. Because it’s easier to get angry than it is to let yourself feel scared, or sad, or helpless.” She jammed a finger toward him. “You’re too cowardly to-”

“Mom?” Jake was standing in the doorway, staring, his eyes huge and afraid, his hands clenched in fists as if he were ready to wade into-

– to protect his mother-

– and the feeling roared over Eric, swamping him, and he rose, screaming, “Get out of here!” and hurled the boot, snapped it, hard, and it smashed Jake in the chest and sent the boy stumbling back into the hall.