Lieutenant Commander Myers was way too well put together for my tastes this morning. His service dress uniform was cleaned and pressed. His were eyes fresh with a full night's sleep and a steaming paper cup of coffee sat before him.
Beside him, I surely looked like a dishevelled mess.
And he noticed.
I was still favoring my right side. My face was unshaven, my hair in disarray.
He stood, his normally reserved nature pushed aside momentarily.
"Are you alright?" He asked. There was real concern in his voice.
"Better than the other guy," I replied, without mirth.
He took a seat and turned on the tape recorder while I recounted the attack in the lunch room, and even what Pete had told me.
"Shit, Jackson." He said, when I concluded my story, calling me by the first name for the first time. "We need to get you out of here."
I allowed myself to slump deeply into the seat as he settled in across from me and opened his briefcase, setting the contents on the metal table before us.
"Unfortunately," he said, "the facts of the case continue to point to your team as the only possible source of hostile fire in that compound."
I nodded as my exhaustion overtook me for a moment.
My lawyer recounted a list of challenges to our defense. It was a long list.
Eventually the frustration became overwhelming. I could feel my fist begin to clench on the solid metal of the cold desk.
Without thinking, I raised my hand and drove it full force down upon the table.
My lawyer jumped back in surprise, and the door opened quickly, the guard clenching his baton in his right hand nervously. My lawyer waved him off, turning back to me.
"Something to say?" He asked, as the guard closed the door to the cell once more.
"I didn't kill those people. There has to be a way to prove it." I said.
My lawyer stood, clearly shaken by the first show of emotion that I'd exhibited since his arrival. He began to place the file folders back into his briefcase before finally walking towards the door and banging heavily on the thick metal.
"In that case, Lieutenant, we had both better hope that Chief Jones can add something to your defense." The door swung open, and he was gone.
I sat alone with only my bruised and aching back and a feeling of being hunted in the small beige holding cell.
Chapter 14:
I sat like that for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to ten minutes.
When the heavy steel door finally swung open, I stood slowly, my head down.
Until the form that darkened the door became clear.
It was Leigh.
No wonder they had left me sitting in this sullen beige interview room for so long.
She took one look at me and gasped. Her feet fell quickly on the cold concrete floor as she ran into my arms.
"What happened to you?" She asked, her arms draped around my neck.
"It's nothing," I responded.
The guard cleared his throat loudly in the doorway. "You have ten minutes, Lieutenant." He remained in the room.
Leigh's soft body pressed against mine and I exhaled loudly, causing me to wince from the pain in my back.
Reminder to self, I thought. Don't do that.
"What's wrong?" Leigh asked, pulling up the back of my BDU top, exposing the angry black and blue bruise that covered most of my back, where the rubber bullet had impacted.
Her hand went to her mouth and she gasped again in shock.
"Who did this to you?" She asked, glancing at the guard who stood emotionless across the room.
"Don't worry about it. The other guy had it worse than me." I said dismissively.
"That doesn't make me feel any better." She said, touching my face.
We stood like that for a few moments, before I stepped back. "I'm glad to see you." I said.
She actually blushed.
"But you can't come back here." I said, walking slowly towards her.
"Why, Jackson?" She asked, eyeing my appearance and labored gait.
"Do you remember where I took you to propose?" I asked, resting my hands lightly on her shoulders and looking into her eyes.
"Of course." She answered, confused. "Why would you ask?"
I leaned in and kissed her neck. "You need to go there. Today. Take Clementine out of school and go. Don't come back until I send word."
I said this in a whisper as I leaned in to the nape of her neck, her perfume flooding my nostrils.
She nodded, and threw her arms around my neck, her passionate embrace sending a shockwave of pain through my lower back.
The guard cleared his throat a moment later, and we broke our embrace. Tears rolled liberally down her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away as the guard led her out the door and into the brightly lit corridor outside.
When he returned to bring me back to my cell, I was the most relaxed I'd been in days.
Whatever was going on, Leigh and Clementine would be safe.
As for me, I thought, as the guards led me down the corridor to my cell. Well, that was another matter.
Chapter 15:
Military Special Operations training teaches you to be constantly vigilant, to always expect an assault at the most unexpected time. It is an awareness bordering on paranoia.
And it had already saved my life once in the past twenty-four hours.
The awareness in the back of my mind was heightened.
But I was not afraid. Leigh and Clementine were safe. And I could handle myself.
As the thick metal door to my cell clanged shut and the long steel bolt slid closed on the outside, I let out a deep breath and sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed.
Waiting.
I sat like that for a long while. My awareness heightened, my body in a state of near rest.
Light streamed through the small window in my cell. It had to be mid afternoon by now.
Still there had been no aggressive action. No enemy to rail against.
The waiting was truly the hardest part of any operation.
There was a time when my extremities would have trembled at the surge of adrenaline that came before a combat operation.
Not anymore.
I looked down at my hands. They were steady.
I waited.
The attack never came.
The buzzer did.
I opened my eyes from the state of near rest I had placed myself in. It was a form of meditation that I had learned from long flights in uncomfortable conditions, and long hours in the decompression chamber of submarines.
You could call it a subconscious awareness of your conscious surroundings; a waking sleep.
I shook myself from the heightened awareness and dulled emotions of the meditative state and stood.
I plied my sore back and stretched to my full height. It was uncomfortable. Slouching would have taken the pressure off of my back, but I wanted to portray no sign of weakness.
So, I smiled through the pain and nodded to the chubby young Petty Officer who waited beyond the door to my cell.
He returned the nod, and I stepped down the corridor slowly, his footsteps echoing behind me. Ahead, the normally bright fluorescent lights of the dining hall were dark. I glanced around. The sun had set at some point while I had straddled the border of consciousness and sleep in my cell.
Awaiting the attack.
The attack that was happening right now.
I spun, but was too slow. The guard's Taser dug deeply into my side. My side and back exploded in pain as I collapsed hard to the concrete floor below. As my world dimmed, the light draining from the periphery of my vision, I saw the young guard above me smile, his crooked teeth bright white in the dim hallway, a gleaming pair of handcuffs in his hands.
The stun effect of the Taser lasted for about a minute, best I could tell. When I came to, still groggy and disoriented, the guard was pulling me to my feet.