Dale Brown - Act of War

“Sir, if you’ll allow me to…”

“I said shut your fucking mouth, Major!” Jefferson shouted again. “You have no right to be heard, sir. You have no explanation for any of this, and I’m not going to waste my time and energy listening to whatever nonsense you’ve dreamed up.

“I’m going to give you the courtesy of telling you what’s going to happen to you now, Major,” Jefferson went on. “You will be taken into custody by the Army Criminal Investigation Command. They will take you to Fort Belvoir, where you’ll be booked and formally charged. You will undoubtedly be interrogated by the FBI and CIA as well as the Defense Intelligence Agency. Eventually you’ll be tried and no doubt convicted of dereliction of duty, espionage, conspiracy, leaving your post, absent without leave, trafficking in classified government property, conduct unbecoming, and any other charges we can think of. Dr. Vega, as a military employee in a highly sensitive position in the Army Research Laboratory, and therefore subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, you will face the same charges and specifications and will probably face the same fate.”

“Sergeant Major, just listen to Major Richter for a…” Ariadna began.

“You will shut up now, Vega!” Jefferson shouted.

“That’s uncalled for, Sergeant!” Jason interjected.

“For starters, sir, it’s ‘Sergeant Major’—I earned those stripes on the field of battle, and I better damn well be addressed properly,” Jefferson said angrily, a vein impressively standing out on his forehead now. “Now, did you just back-talk me…?”

“I said, talking to Dr. Vega like that is uncalled for, Sergeant Major,” Jason said. “As her immediate supervisor, she was following my direction. I’m the one responsible here.”

“You think that’s going to make any difference, Richter?” Jefferson asked incredulously. “You are both going to be put away for a very, very long time. Don’t expect me to be cordial or polite to either of you. You’re criminals, thieves—nothing more, nothing less. There is no explanation, excuse, or defending one another anymore. Enjoy your last night of freedom here, because once we arrive in Virginia, you will be in federal custody probably for the next twenty years, or longer. Fun’s over.” Jefferson looked over at Kristen Skyy and added, “Miss Skyy, your plane and all your equipment will be impounded by the CIC, and you will be taken into custody by FBI agents and…”

“Like hell I will, buster. One phone call and the weight of the world will be dumping on you so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“That’s why you won’t be allowed to make a phone call, Miss Skyy,” Jefferson said matter-of-factly. “You and your crew will be held in federal custody as material witnesses, which means segregated from all other persons and prohibited from contacting anyone until you are formally charged. When that happens will depend on your cooperation in our investigation. As you know, in the current security condition, we have the power to hold you as a material witness indefinitely.”

“I hope you like plenty of media exposure, Sergeant Major,” Kristen said angrily, “because you’re going to be experiencing a shitload of it if you try any of that stuff, I guarantee it. My network knows I’m here; they’re expecting me to check in daily, and if I don’t they’ll call out the dogs looking for me—and the first place they’ll go is to your bosses in the Pentagon and the White House. When they find out you’ve kidnapped me, you’ll be in really deep shit. Your career will be over.”

“We’re way beyond threats here, Miss Skyy—we’re into high-level military espionage and illegal transfer of military secrets,” Jefferson said. “Haven’t you been reading the papers or watching TV? There is no First, Fourth, Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth Amendment protection for spies, terrorists, or conspirators. After 9/11 and Kingman City, the American people will gladly put people like you away for good.” Jefferson’s cellular phone rang; he glanced at the caller ID number, gave Jason a scowl, and walked away to answer it.

Jason saw two Air Force Security Forces men photograph the CID unit inside the Learjet, then carry it out and set it on the ramp. He looked at Ariadna and tapped his wrist, and she looked at him with an “Are you damned sure you want to do this?” expression. “Kristen, how sure are you of your information?” Jason asked.

“Doesn’t matter now anyway…”

“Kristen, I need to know if your information is any good,” Jason said seriously. “We’re risking our careers over this—maybe our lives, if those Security Force guys get too rambunctious here in a moment.”

Kristen’s eyes narrowed fearfully at that remark, darting back and forth between the guards and Jason apprehensively. “Lieutenant Alderico Quintao is one of my best sources in South America,” Kristen insisted. “I’ve known and used him for about three years when I covered terrorist activities in Brazil, even before GAMMA was created; he’s got connections in every nation that shares a border with Brazil; his family is politically connected and wealthy. If he said he knows GAMMA’s whereabouts, I believe him. What difference does that make now?”

“I hope you’re right, Kristen.” He lifted up his sleeve, revealing a large square wristwatch, and pressed several buttons. “We’re about to start a ruckus.”

Suddenly they heard excited voices shouting near the CID unit. They looked over—and saw the CID unit unfolding itself. Jason looked over at Jefferson, but he was still talking on his cell phone, looking out toward the runway with a blank look on his face, a finger in each ear to block out the unidentified noise behind him. Most of the Air Force Security Force officers were armed, but they were too stunned to pull their weapons and just scrambled to stay out of the machine’s way.

“Get the plane loaded up again and ready to fly,” Jason said to Kristen. The CID unit walked straight over to him. “CID One, pilot up,” he said, and the machine assumed the boarding position. In a few moments, Jason was inside, and the robot really came to life.

“What in hell is going on here?” Jefferson thundered. In a flash, Jason stepped over to him, and before Jefferson could react, he was trapped in the robot’s strong mechanical hands. One robotic hand was wrapped around each of Jefferson’s arms, and Jason held him just high enough so he was dangling in mid-air and couldn’t wriggle free. The Security Forces readied their weapons, but didn’t point them at the robot for fear of hitting the Ranger. “Put those damned guns down!” Jefferson shouted to them. To the robot, he yelled, “Is that you in there, Richter? You are in big fucking trouble, asshole! Let me go immediately or I will bust your ass all the way to Antarctica and back!”

“Sergeant Major, as I tried to tell you, I have actionable evidence of the whereabouts of the terrorist group that planned and executed the Kingman City attack,” Jason said, his electronically synthesized voice firm and unwavering. “They’re in Brazil. Kristen Skyy knows where they are, and her confidence in her source is high.”

“Really? And since you’ve spent a few quality hours with Miss Skyy in Clovis, your confidence in her is very high as well, eh?”

Jason told himself that he should not have been so surprised to learn that Jefferson knew about his evening with Kristen. He swallowed hard within his composite armor shell but managed to reply, “Yes, sir, it is,” his embarrassment evident even through CID’s electronic circuitry.

“You sure you’re not thinking with your dick instead of your brain, Richter?”

“I believe Kristen’s information is accurate, sir.”