Carrothers considered that. “What’s the only absolutely, positively surefire method of eliminating biologic toxins, Colonel?”
“You just said it, General. Fire. Serious fire. As in napalm, thermite, carbon-arc fire, atomic weapons fire.”
“So if I thought a cylinder of Wet Eye was hidden in a building?”
“I’d incinerate that building. I’d bring up a flame throwing tank and burn the bastard into lampblack. Think Waco, Texas. Burn it to a smear.”
“That’s a bit extreme, Colonel.”
“So’s a Wet Eye exposure event, General.”
Colonel Fuller left the office, closing the door behind him. He looked around for Major Mason. The clerk told him the major was down the hall using the secure fax station. Fuller stood there thinking for a moment.
He asked the clerk where General Waddell was.
“He’s on the West Coast, Sir.”. “Do you have a phone number for him?”
“We can reach the general, sir,” the clerk replied warily. “General Carrothers has asked Major Mason and me to reconstitute the Security Working Group. We’ll need that secure conference room again. And I need you to get a ‘discreet message to General Waddell to call me immediately. And I mean me, not anyone else. Understand, Sergeant?” He looked meaningfully at General Carrothers’s closed door. “General Waddell and I are longtime personal friends, and I need to talk to him very privately and very soon. You can word that anyway you want to, as long as it goes out in the next five minutes or so.”.
The clerk was writing this all down. “Got it, Colonel. I’ll let you know as soon as I reach the general, sir.”
Stafford asked to use the phone in Owen’s office, where he called Ray Sparks. Ray’s secretary put him on hold for a minute and then came back on the line.
“Mr. Sparks wants to know if you have your portable with you,” she said.
“Yes. It’s out in the car.”
“He said to get it and then call back in secure. Quickly.”
Stafford hung up and went out to get his computer. The sheriff asked him what was going on. “Gotta make a secure call to the local DCIS office, Sheriff.”
“That looks like a portable.”
“It is; there’s a secure telecomm function built in.” The sheriff followed him back into Gwen’s office but withdrew when Stafford gave him an “excuse me” look. As he dialed the Smyrna secure number, he saw the sheriff and Gwen exchange a few words on the porch, and then the sheriff was picking up his hat. Gwen came over and stood in the doorway. He decided to let her stay and listen. The secure link came up with the Smyrna office. Sparks came right on, and Stafford put him on the portable’s speaker.
“Dave. There’s something you need to know about. It was faxed down here from the Pentagon by a brigadier general in the Army Chemical Corps.
It’s an intel spot report, according to which, a subject named Stafford has gone into the arms business.”
“Ducky. What is this Stafford Communist supposed to be selling?”
“A chemical weapon. He’s asking for a million bucks.
This general wanted to talk to me this morning, but I stiffed him.”
“And who originated that report?”
“Three guesses.”
Stafford thought about that for a minute. “It was a Bureau guy who fluttered me at Anniston.”
“Bingo. So we definitely have the Army and Bureau working a problem together.”
“Right. All over a weapon that isn’t missing. You feeling a little better about this, Ray? Like ‘maybe I’m not totally crazy?”
“Let’s not leap to assumptions, Dave,” Sparks said with a nervous laugh.
Stafford felt a surge of relief to have Ray back in his corner, but it was short-lived.
“Dave, you do know I’ve got to forward this to DCIS Washington, although, now that I think about it, they may already have it. And I’m going to have to tell Colonel Parsons what the hell this is all about.”
“Damn, I wish there was a way around that,” Stafford said, very much aware of Gwen in the doorway. “At least the part about the people here in Graniteville.”
“I can try. Give them the old confidential informant bit. But it’s all going to come apart anyway when the colonel closes the loop with the Green Machine, and they hunker back down and say, ‘What missing weapon?”
The thing I can’t figure out is where the hell this intel report came from. I mean, I know the FBI intel division is the source, but who’s feeding them this shit?”
“Somebody who wants to put the heat on me and take the heat off of him.”
“You mean Carson?”
“He said he had friends” in D. C., and he’s the guy who knows where this thing is.”
“You suspect.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t, Dave. You don’t know. You suspect. You know when you can present evidence. Proof. Witnesses. Documents. The little girl with the crystal ball doesn’t count.”
“For Chrissakes, Ray, she doesn’t have a goddamn crystal ball,” Stafford said, louder than he had intended. He was now painfully aware of Gwen standing in the doorway, and she was giving him a peculiar look. There was an awkward silence on the line. 1 “Who exactly sent this fax to you?” Stafford asked.
“It came from the office of a Brigadier General Lee Can-others, the Pentagon.”
“And you refused to talk to him?”
“Hell yes. This is interdepartmental. If anyone’s going to start talking to the Army headquarters, it’s got to be DCIS headquarters. As in Colonel Parsons or higher. This general undoubtedly anticipated that. He wants me to pass it up the line.”
Sparks the ever-obedient bureaucrat. “How about giving me that general’s phone number?” Stafford said.
“Negative, Dave. Let Parsons or Whittaker handle this. You’ve warned those people up there in Hicksville, or wherever you are? Then you’re done up there. Come back to Atlanta. I want you here in Smyrna when Washington starts sending cruise missiles down to Georgia. You know DCIS is going to go snake shit.”
Stafford thought fast. He had promised to go back. But he suddenly did not want to do that. “Okay. I’ll wrap it up here and get back,” he said.
“Good, you do that,” Sparks said.
Stafford hung up before Sparks could say anything more. He didn’t want to tell Ray any more lies than were absolutely necessary. Gwen looked as if she wanted to say something, but Stafford held her off by raising his hand. Then he typed in another number on the secure autodialer.
“Pentagon secure operator.”
“I need the secure drop for a Brigadier General Lee Carrothers, U.S. Army. He’s in the building. And request a patch, please, operator.”
“Stand by.” Dave motioned for Gwen to sit down. The sheriff was nowhere in sight.
“General Waddelfs office, Sergeant Clifford speaking, sir.”
“Sergeant, this is David Stafford, DCIS, calling for Brigadier Carrothers.”
“Stand by one, sir. I’ll see if the general is available.”
Stafford put his thumb over the microphone spot on the portable. “I’m going out of channels, Gwen. I’m going to try to point these people at Carson and still keep you and the girl out of it. Can’t promise—”
“This is General Carrothers.”’
Stafford thought he recognized the voice behind the mask at Anniston.
“Hello again, General.”
There was brief hesitation. “Hello again, Mr. Stafford. I was actually hoping you might call.”
“Do we have something specific to talk about yet, General? Or are we going to dance some more?”
“You tripped on two questions in your test, Mr. Stafford. You remember which ones they were?”