And think about whether to tell the major about the extra bugs at her house. She finished the remaining paperwork in less than an hour, with Ginger’s head weighing her left foot down. “All right, pup. That’s done. Want to go for a run?”
Ginger was on her feet in an instant, tail wagging.
“Yeah, you’re ready. Let me just put these things away.”
Outside, the clouds were thicker but no rain yet. Morrison walked two blocks briskly, then started jogging, waving at other NCOs she knew in the neighborhood. She knew the distances in all directions, and set out on a modest 5K route. She was just past the second kilometer when her skullphone pinged.
“Sergeant Major? This is Major Hong—I tried your residence—”
“Sorry, Major. I finished the other paperwork and went out for a run with my dog. Do I need to come in to the office?”
“No—I’d like to come by your residence and see if there’s any… uh… security problem there. I’ve got a full team working on the offices near yours as well as yours and—I’d prefer to tell you personally.”
“Of course, sir. You have the address.”
“Yes. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Sir. I might still be a block away.”
“That’s all right.”
She looked at Ginger. “We’d better take the shortcut, pup. I promise, I’ll give you a longer run later.”
A small park—retention pond, grass verge, benches and an exercise set on one side—connected the street she was running on to her own, making dead ends of the street in the middle. She cut through, ignored by the few people in it, though not by one woman’s small dog. Ginger ignored the dog, switching to a lope as Morrison increased her pace.
When she reached her own street and turned onto it, she had several blocks more to go. The exercise felt good. She had to stop at one corner for a car on the cross street, but jogged in place. Then on—and ahead she could see a white van that was near, if not at, her duplex. Hong, with his team? She ran on. Another white van passed her and pulled up behind the first. That was odd. Why would it take two sets of techs to check out her residence?
As she came to her own block, she slowed to a walk. Arriving out of breath wasn’t a good idea. Now she heard yelling, and a group of men emerged from her driveway, shouting and gesturing. One of them grabbed another’s arm; the second man pulled free, swung at the first. Then it was a melee, four—or five?—men yelling and fighting. She had an answer for that. With the full volume and authority of a sergeant major, she bellowed at them. “Stop that now.”
They paused, looked around, stared in her direction, then two of the men bolted for the first van. Morrison slipped the leash off Ginger and said, “Hush, dog!” Ginger charged, a red-gold streak, and hit one of the men solidly in the side. He staggered and fell. Morrison yelled “How many times?” at Ginger, and the dog swerved after the second man as he dodged around the van. She heard a cry and assumed Ginger had hold of him.
“What is going on here?” she said in a slightly lower tone. Her neighbors had all come outside by now, standing outside their doors.
“That’s what I want to know, Sergeant Major.” Major Hong, his uniform jacket pulled awry and what looked to be a split lip and a rising bruise on his right cheekbone, limped a little as he walked toward her. “The men in that van”—he pointed to the first one—“were inside your house when we arrived. I asked who they were, what they were doing, and they pushed past us to get out of your quarters. My team and I tried to stop them, but we’re cyber security, not a military police riot squad.”
“Get off me, you brute!” came from the other side of the van.
“Hey, you! Quit hitting the sergeant major’s dog!” Master Sergeant Rusty Rustowsky, from across the street, had come as far as the curb. “Need some help over there, Sergeant Major?”
“Please—if you could take that man into custody—” She turned to Major Hong. “Excuse me, sir; I’m going to get my dog back on leash and see that that man does not get away.”
“Go ahead.” He swiped at his lip. “I think my guys have the other one.”
They did, though not in any hold approved by military police. Hong fished out his comunit. “I’m calling the MPs.”
When she came to the far side of the van, Rustowsky had his man braced against the side of the van, feet wide, hands spread high. “Good dog,” she said to Ginger, and slipped the leash back on. “Very good dog.”
“She can hit ’em when she wants to,” Rustowsky said. “Not just a pretty girl.”
“She can indeed,” Morrison said. “Major Hong has called the MPs—”
She could just hear the siren in the distance. Ginger pressed against her leg. “I’d better go put Killer here in her run; I don’t know what they’ve done to the place inside.”
“I’ll keep him here.” Rustowsky, not quite as tall as Morrison, was the senior NCO boxing champ and a combatives instructor. Morrison led Ginger back around the van, where one of Major Hong’s techs had handed him something to wipe the blood off his chin.
“I’m putting my dog up, Major,” Morrison said as she walked past him. He nodded. She found the special snack box for Ginger, put the dog in the run and tossed her two of the treats, then went back down the drive, where the dying howl of the siren indicated the MPs were arriving. By now everyone’s front door was open.
The moment the MPs got out of their van, Major Hong, his techs, the other two techs, and Rusty Rustowsky all started talking. Morrison said nothing, but watched carefully. Another MP van pulled up. Morrison’s neighbor on the other side called over to her. “Sergeant Major, what did you do?”
“Nothing—I took my dog for a run and when I came back this was happening. I knew Major Hong, so when I saw him go down I let Ginger after the others.”
“Your dog is a trained guard dog?” one of the MPs from the second van asked.
“And so listed on her license.”
Morrison’s steady, unemotional tone seemed to be getting through to the MP. “You do know it’s illegal to set your dog on someone—”
“Unless they are committing a crime, or resisting arrest. Major Hong had told them to stop. I told them to stop. Apparently Major Hong had reason to believe they might have been committing a crime. So I told my dog to hold them. That one—” She nodded toward the van now holding the first prisoner. “He was kicking and hitting my dog. Master Sergeant Rustowsky saw that and intervened.”
“Your dog is tagged?”
“Yes. Her registration number is CD-G-2973.”
“I’ll need to get that off her collar, or is she chipped?”
“Both. Come on back.”
Ginger walked up to the fence, now clearly lame, and whined. “Up, pup, this man needs to read your collar.” Ginger started to rear up, then winced and went back down. “Hurt, girl?” Was that blood on the paw that just touched the ground? She turned to the MP. “I’ll lead her out, just a moment.”
“You can’t go in yet,” he said as she started for the side door. “Forensics is coming.”
“There’s no gate,” Morrison said. “Regulations.”
“I’ll read her tag later. Come with me.”
Major Hong had straightened his uniform; the bruise on his face was more obvious now, but his split lip had quit bleeding.