“Yes, sir. Thank you for the information; I’m relieved she’s on the road to recovery.” Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen someone run a sniffer over the flowers and the card, and then someone else pick them up and turn to go. MacRobert. She stepped back abruptly, a sharp move that might catch his eye, and saw the hesitation before he went on down the passage.
“You said you had your dog with you—what kind of dog? I have dogs myself—love ’em—but it’s always a problem if I’m sent somewhere and can’t take them.” The colonel’s continued interest struck Morrison as off in some way, as had his easy recognition of her, even in civvies. After her disturbing surmises earlier in the day, this set bells ringing.
“I used to use the kennels on base,” Morrison said, keeping her voice easy, one dog owner to another. “But they were full one time when I had to travel. So I tried out another boarding kennel, only about two klicks from base, toward town, run by a retired senior tech sergeant. They’re pricier than the base, but really good, and it’s no problem if I’m away longer than expected. Petsational. Tell them I sent you, if you want.” She paused. “Excuse me, sir, but Ginger’s been in the car long enough. I should be on my way.”
“I’ll just walk out with you,” he said. “Say hello to your dog, if that’s all right.”
“She’ll enjoy it,” Morrison said. “She’s very friendly.” An entire carillon of bells rang now.
Ginger let out a moderate woof! at the sound of strange footsteps, but quieted when Morrison unlocked the door. “Hey, Ginger, someone wants to meet you. A moment, sir, while I get her out of the crate.” He was looking through the windows at her grocery bags, both his hands on the car. Ginger came out of the crate politely, hopped down to the pavement, and wagged her tail as the colonel turned toward her. “Shake, Ginger.” Up came the paw, and the colonel grinned, reaching down to shake it. As he stood he put down a hand as if to brace himself on the doorframe.
Morrison glanced back toward the hospital entrance. Someone came out, moved along the walk beside the building, into the cluster of shrubs that decorated one corner. “Now she’s out, I should give her a little walk,” Morrison said. “Some of that shrubbery looks like it needs watering.”
He gave a conspiratorial dog-owners-all grin and said, “Then good night, Sergeant Major. I’ll let you and Ginger get on with your evening.” With a nod, he turned away, walked back across the parking area, and Morrison led Ginger toward the nearest shrubbery, connected to that at the front of the building.
“You are one silly bitch,” Morrison said. “That goofy act you put on, all grin and tail-wags, someone would think you’re nothing but a couch-cuddle.” She looked for movement in the shrubbery. There?
Ginger stiffened and gave a barely audible growl.
“What, something in the shrubbery? Probably a cat. Or a bunny.”
“Interesting note you wrote, Sergeant Major,” came a voice from the shrubbery.
“All I did was sign my name,” Morrison said. She laid her hand on Ginger’s head, signaling. Ginger squatted.
“On the one hand, yes. On the other, that salutation. Do you have something the Rector needs to know tonight?”
“Something the Rector needs to know as soon as she is able to do something about it,” Morrison said. “Someone is mistreating some of my people, and I can’t stop it without jumping the chain of command all the way to her.”
“Do you recognize my voice? We’ve met several times over the years.”
“Master Sergeant Mac—”
“MacRobert, yes. If this concerns enlisted personnel evacuated from Miksland and claimed to be in quarantine, yes, she needs to know whatever you know. She’s aware something’s crooked. But she can’t have visitors right now, and anyway you’re conspicuous. You need to go talk to Admiral Ky Vatta, tonight. She’s at the Vatta city residence.” His voice sharpened. “Take this, pet your dog, turn and go to your car. Now.”
Morrison palmed the paper he handed her, bent down, patted Ginger, and did as he had said, Ginger trotting along happily, tail waving. Inside the glass doors of the hospital entrance, a figure stood, dark against the light. Colonel Dihann? Or another watcher? She opened the car door, leaned in to open the crate, and as Ginger swarmed into the car, raking her claws on the doorframe as usual, then settled in the crate, Morrison saw a glint, as of metallic paint, just below the opening. Without standing up, she touched it. Small, almost flat, and definitely something she didn’t want on her car. She slid a fingernail under it and pulled it off. The colonel, no doubt, standing up from petting Ginger. Microphone or locator or both?
“Ginger, how many times do I have to tell you, do not claw the doorframe as you get in? You’ve scraped the paint again. Good thing I carry touch-up.” She rummaged, making noise, under the back of the driver’s seat. “Ah. There we are. Still enough to fix this one. Let me see. Sandpaper—” She stuck the tag back down, hard-scrubbing both it and the surrounding paint. That should glitch the signal, at least partly. “That’s smooth enough. And now the paint. You know, dog, sometimes you’re a serious nuisance. We’re going to be late to Kris’s party if we don’t get a move on.”
The Vatta house was not quite in the middle of a long block of expensive-looking houses. A driveway, closed off with decorative metal gates, led around one end. To Morrison’s surprise, the gates opened silently as she came near, and her skullphone pinged. “Yes?”
“Take the drive, park beside the garage, facing out.” She’d never heard that voice before. And how would a stranger know her skullphone code? Did MacRobert have the same access to service records she did?
She turned into the drive and reversed the car into a space beside the garage, as she’d been directed. “Ginger, stay.”
A man in dark slacks and pullover emerged from the shadows. “Sergeant Major, I’m Ky Vatta’s fiancé, Rafe Dunbarger. Would you like to bring your dog in the house, or will she be quiet out here?”
That was not what she’d expected to hear. “She will bark only if someone approaches the car. I’d as soon leave her crated.”
“Fine. Come with me, please.”
Inside, she followed Ser Dunbarger through a dark kitchen into a lighted room where seven people waited around a dining table. Morrison recognized both Admiral and Stella Vatta from newsvids, but not the three other women or the man Ser Dunbarger introduced as “my assistant, Teague.”
“Master Sergeant MacRobert told us you were coming.” Admiral Vatta’s voice and manner convinced Morrison instantly that everything she’d heard about the admiral was true. “Please have a seat. We don’t want to keep you long; this house is under surveillance, and your visit here may cause you trouble. You have information about the people with me on Miksland?”
Morrison sat down. The three women across from her had not been introduced. Who were they? Why?—and then it dawned on her. That flash message she’d read while in transit, fugitives escaped from a high-security facility… “The information I have,” Morrison said, “comes from my participation in a committee whose brief was to make a final disposition of those cases, persons we were told had been exposed to some pathogen or toxin on Miksland, and were now permanently disabled, in need of custodial care for the rest of their lives.”
“Do you know where these persons are?”
“Where they are, and where they will be after transport to a single facility, assuming our report is accepted by higher command. I also suspected, but was unable to confirm, that their apparent disability was the intentional result of treatment they received in custody. Since voicing an objection, and a request to meet with the personnel alone, I have been aware of excessive interest directed at me. Veiled threats were made. A tracking device was placed on my car.”