Chapter 2

The follow-up to the meeting ended a few minutes later as the doors to the Oval Office opened and disgorged most of the participants.

“You two follow me,” Solomon said as he came out.

He led them down the west wing offices, whose layout Taylor hadn’t figured out yet. Other than the Oval Office, with its distinctive curved walls, it was impossible to tell what led where. Solomon seemed to know where he was going and led them into a room with glass walls, a large conference table, and a large picture of Theodore Roosevelt on one wall.

“I’m sorry you got pulled off your camping trip. I argued against this, but the president was adamant.”

“It’s okay. I found I didn’t like camping nearly as much as Taylor did anyways.”

“You just didn’t give it enough time,” Taylor said.

“I wanted to give you both a warning. The president forced this through against a lot of opposition.”

“The new Secretary certainly seemed against it, but General Leland didn’t seem to have a problem. He ran JASOC when I was active duty and always struck me as a good man,” Taylor said.

“He was against it too. He’s read your file and doesn’t have a problem with you personally, but he’s still against having anyone outside the Army investigate this. He’s not a politician though, so once the president made it an order, he stopped opposing it, unlike Secretary Yohe.”

“Is there going to be trouble?” Whitaker asked.

“Maybe. The Secretary has decided to send two DOD investigators to ‘support’ your operation, but assume they’re there to do the exact opposite.”

“You’d think they’d be happy for help finding the black marketeers. If the president is right and it causes their budget to get cut, it’d affect him more than anyone else.”

“When has that mattered? Besides, you have quite the reputation. They’re afraid you’re going to cause more damage to public relations than any help you might bring.”

“I should also have a reputation for actually solving problems. I know I’m not considered an official agent or anything, but have you seen the clearance rate of cases you guys have assigned to me?”

“It’s amazing, I’ll give you that, which is why I stopped fighting to get you locked out of the building; but, you also leave a lot of destruction in your wake. The Secret Service is still up in arms about what happened in November, and do you forget shooting a terrorist suspect while news helicopters circled the building outside?”

“Agent Cole seems to be doing okay, and the press the Bureau got for the Qasim thing was pretty good I thought.”

“Cole was on the way out until the president stepped in and demanded he stay in charge of her detail.”

“If I’m such a menace, why do you keep assigning me cases?”

“Hey, I just said I’ve come around on you. I’m just warning you that you’re not as popular with anyone else, and there will be people there whose job will be to get rid of you as fast as possible.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Whitaker said before Taylor could keep arguing. “It isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with people trying to stop us from working. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I know you will. Good luck to you both,” he said to Whitaker before turning to Taylor. “You should be happy she’s in your corner, Taylor.”

“Ohh, I am.”

Fort Chilton, Texas

Fort Chilton was just as desolate as described. The area surrounding the town and army base reminded Taylor heavily of areas of Afghanistan, which was probably exactly the point.

He’d been familiar with the base even before being assigned the investigation, although he hadn’t been assigned here himself, since Special Forces had its own deployment protocols. Fort Chilton was used predominantly for readying armored artillery units for deployment, although infantry units also rotated through on their way to the Middle East.

It had started as a cavalry fort after the Civil War and was almost mothballed in the eighties before being reactivated and enlarged following the US’s involvement in Desert Storm. The town around the fort he wasn’t as familiar with, although from the air it was larger than he expected.

Most military bases ended up having towns grow up around them, since they needed a fair amount of support staff outside of enlisted personnel. Some were large cities, such as Fort Bragg, which backed up right against Fayetteville, North Carolina, while others were barely towns at all.

Silver Plains was at least a noticeable town, with several subdivisions, a main street, and a fairly large rail yard, which was probably why this base had been picked for armored operations. Modern tanks couldn’t just drive where they needed to go domestically, since their treads would usually rip up modern roads, and they were so heavy it usually wasn’t worth it to ship them by trucks. Normally, if an armored unit needed to move assets around, either for deployment at a training field or to get ready for shipping overseas, they’d do it by rail. The same was true for most of the larger artillery pieces, which meant any base specializing in armored or artillery units had to have access to the rail network.

Of course, the units didn’t actually take the tanks with them, since that wouldn’t make much sense. Bases like Chilton would have their own vehicles permanently assigned, but they still needed to get updated units shipped in as modifications were made to the army’s inventory or replacement units were needed.

The rail yard was also probably why the town had made it through the draw-down period in the nineties, since it would have been used by civilians as much as or probably more than the military used it during those years.

While Taylor had just made the most of their ride out to the base, Whitaker had made the mistake of trying to go over the case files, since she usually liked to prepare for a case before they first arrived. The problem was, they usually traveled on commercial flights, which had things like drink trays and padded seats.

There were, however, not a lot of commercial flights out to Fort Chilton. People at Silver Plains had to drive almost sixty miles to Odessa to get to the nearest airport. General Leland had arranged for a more direct flight, but that involved sitting in the belly of a C-130 that was hauling supplies and some personnel out to the base. This was Whitaker’s first time inside a military cargo plane, and she hadn’t been prepared for the unpadded jump seats or the noise.

“Did you actually fall asleep?” she asked as they walked down the ramp.

“Sure. Some of the best naps I’ve ever taken were inside one of these bad boys. This feels like coming home.”

“I’ll never understand you people.”

Taylor just laughed as they walked out onto the tarmac, looking around. They’d been told a CID investigator currently running the investigation into the black marketeers would be meeting them and Taylor picked him out right away. Standing next to a humvee a dozen or so yards away was one of the few people, besides themselves, not in a BDU. Even though it was February and it wasn’t freezing the man still seemed underdressed in a windbreaker and slacks, which made him stand out just as much as Whitaker in her black pantsuit or Taylor in his jeans and dusty brown leather jacket.

“Captain Chenier?” Taylor asked as they walked up to the man.

“Yep. You’d be Agents Taylor and Whitaker?”

“That’s us.”

“General Lane is waiting for you in his office.”

“I was hoping we could get an update on the investigation so far before you guys threw us in with the lions.”

“Sorry, Sergeant, but the general insisted.”

Taylor wasn’t surprised someone had told him about his previous rank. Despite how ineffectual the current investigation was, the few times he’d had to deal with CID over the years, he’d found them to be incredibly detail-oriented and thorough. Although, it could be that Taylor had been enough of a national figure over the last year, and especially over the last two months, that the Captain had just heard his previous rank on the news.

“How is the investigation going, Captain?” Whitaker asked as they got into the humvee.

“Badly, Ma’am. I honestly thought we were getting close several times, but then everything would up and vanish on us. Paperwork would disappear or stolen items we were tracking would just show up in the armory like it was never missing. I don’t know who these guys are, but they’re better at this than any group I’ve investigated before.”

“Is there a chance they have someone inside your command?” Taylor asked.

“We thought of that after the first two operations to find them fell apart. I brought in MPs from the 709th all the way in Germany and kept them segregated from the rest of the base the whole time and limited access to any information to just us, but got the same results.”

“Maybe someone in admin or the general’s office?”

“We thought of that too. While the 709 boys were still here, we tried one where it was just us, we didn’t even keep the general updated, per his orders. I swear, I’ve started to think maybe I’m the leak.”

While Taylor didn’t discount the idea that the Captain was dirty himself, it seemed like someone above him would have looked into him once everything else had fallen apart. Of course, he’d thought the German policeman helping him out during their trip to Berlin had been his ally, only to have the man almost execute him, so what did he know.

Taylor exchanged glances with Whitaker and knew they were on the same page. The first thing they’d do is isolate the Captain from whatever they were doing, since he was the only common thread between the various failed operations at this point. The man seemed genuinely upset by the whole situation, but people could be good liars, as Taylor had found out a little bit too often.

“So what have you tried?”

“Fake shipments, tracking devices on real shipments, round-the-clock surveillance on most of the warehouses where items have disappeared, added cameras just about everywhere, interviews with everyone assigned anywhere on the base, including the motor pool and the front gate, complete base lockdowns. You name it, we’ve tried it.”

“You have caught some people, right?”

“Yeah, a few small fish, but it went nowhere. Most didn’t seem to know anything and didn’t have any names to give up. These guys operate better than some intel units I know of. Everything’s compartmentalized, so one part of the ring doesn’t know who’s in another. We thought we might be getting close last week when we caught a sergeant who seemed ready to talk until his girlfriend suddenly turned up dead. He clammed up and said he just wanted to go to jail.”