by Laura Acton
“Loki, buddy, are you okay?” Bram called out as he and Ray rushed towards him because Loki looked like he was going to pass out.
Loki couldn’t respond—he had no words. His stomach threatened to heave.
Barely above a whisper, Blaze shared, “His total kills. Brody was 184.”
The information bomb annihilated all thoughts—sucked all the air from room and threatened to asphyxiate the occupants. Ragged inhalations and exhalations of air were the only sounds heard for an extended period of time as each one absorbed the number and reflected on what it would do to a man’s soul to take that many lives.
Jon had an answer now for how Dan seemed to be able to handle neutralizing subjects better than most—the rookie was no rookie when it came to ending lives. There was a deep ache in his heart for Dan—that many kills had to have a profound impact on his soul. He recalled the ragged breaths in after each one of Dan’s lethal shots—death was familiar, too familiar to Dan, but still not easy for him. For Jon, that was a good sign, Dan still maintained his humanity— Dan’s soul hadn’t been destroyed by what he’d had to do.
Nick rubbed his face as Dan’s reasons for joining TRF rolled in his head. Dan had wanted to make a difference by saving lives instead of taking them. Sadly, Nick fully understood Dan’s motivation now—it wasn’t just about Brody. Dan had taken many lives to protect this country from terrorism—it was a heavy burden Dan carried. It seemed to Nick that Dan just might be the one that needed saving—this team could do that.
Wordlessly, the group eventually returned to the tasks at hand. Everyone was subdued and more determined than ever to find the proof needed to bring whoever was responsible to justice.
Chapter Fifty-One
July 17
Grand Citadel Hotel – Room 666 – 10:00 p.m.
Major Plouffe was contemplating his next move. Sheer luck had given him the information he had tried to demand unsuccessfully from the front desk. He was in the bar and had overheard two kitchen workers talking while they retrieved dirty glasses from behind the bar.
They were complaining about the full body pat downs and thorough search of the food carts every time they delivered enough food to feed an army to a General on the fifteenth floor. They thought it was excessive. One was frightened by the intimidating looks of the soldiers and the assault rifles they were carrying.
Plouffe wondered if his toy soldier was here—it would make sense, because Broderick was nowhere else. He’d checked Broderick’s apartment today and none of his neighbors had seen him in a few days. They assumed it was because he was still in the hospital given the news reports. But they were no help in locating him.
Nigel grinned as he thought, about Aaron’s blubbering fiancée. Some people were just so easy to manipulate, Tammy was one of them. Getting her to believe he was concerned was so simple, just the right word or look is all it took to get her to divulge the names of Broderick’s teammates. Tammy had met them all at the past Christmas party and she caved like a stone roof held up by toothpick.
After he had the names, it was easy enough to get addresses and he’d checked each of their homes. His toy soldier wasn’t at any of them. So Broderick had to be here and well protected by the sounds of it. Plouffe realized that he couldn’t get to his toy soldier here. He needed to figure out where and when, but it needed to be soon.
Earlier tonight, he’d gotten a call from one of his moles warning him that the General was probably on to him now based on the information and access he was seeking for a group of TRF officers. He doubted the General would find anything to connect him—he was too careful. But just in case one of his moles had screwed up, Nigel needed to get rid of his toy soldier once and for all and then plan on disappearing for a while.
His mind worked to come up with a solution. Nigel grinned as an idea formed. Aaron’s funeral just might be the place to do it—it would be fitting. The funeral was scheduled for two days from now at three o’clock. He knew that most of the TRF officers would be in attendance. If his toy soldier was well enough to be out of the hospital then his sense of duty would compel him to be at the funeral. Plouffe laughed, that sense of duty had worked to his advantage for a long time.
The only problem was General Badass. If he suspected, then he’d be like a mad dog protecting his bone. Getting close enough to knock over his toy soldier would be difficult. Plouffe needed a plan to lure his toy soldier away from the protection detail that was sure to be surrounding him. If only Pletcher would get here—but he couldn’t count on that.
As he drifted off to sleep Nigel found a solution to his problem. A three-pronged solution that was sure not to fail. His toy soldier would be dead by 1700 hours on July 19. It would be so fun to observe the General’s pain as he helplessly watched his only son die.
Grand Citadel Hotel – Main Suite – 11:00 p.m.
Everyone worked diligently all evening trying to find solid proof that would connect Major Plouffe or Jorge Pletcher to the photos and stolen mail. It was very late when they gathered to review what they had found so far.
Lexa was the first to report. She and Blaze worked together investigating the training incident. She sat at the table across from the General as she shared, “We found out that the training officer who suggested the new test had been a buddy of the Major. When Blaze and I spoke to Lieutenant Giles Tudor about it, he said that Major Plouffe developed the test and influenced him to try it. Apparently, the Major convinced him that the General was showing favoritism by allowing his son to join without meeting the age requirement.
“The Lieutenant bought into the assumption that the test would show if Dan had the maturity level to be there. Tudor said that they never repeated the test because of the injuries to Dan and the other soldier. The risk was too great to the recruits. He was sorry they had been hurt and broke off his friendship with the Major when Plouffe laughed about Dan’s injuries. Tudor was incensed that the man could be so callous.”
Lexa finished her report out, “We also inquired what happened to the recruit that fell. The Lieutenant said the recruit’s injuries were minor, a slight concussion, and that he passed and went on to join a unit in Special Forces. I asked for the soldier’s name, and Tudor identified him as Corporal Blake Murphy.”
“Blake Murphy? You sure?” Jon asked.
She nodded yes.
“The name sounds familiar, hang on a second ...” He rifled through some of the reports he and Winds had been reviewing. “I knew I’d seen it. You’re not gonna like it,” he said looking at Blaze. “Blake Murphy was in the unit that left Dan sixty kilometers out.”
Blaze nodded. “Yeah, I knew that. Murphy was a thorn in Blondie’s side. He truly doesn’t belong in Special Forces, but he’s like Teflon. None of the shit he spews ever sticks to him. Plouffe seemed to favor him—God knows why?”
Bram asked, “From what the General said about the cliff incident, maybe Murphy had a grudge against Dan. Perhaps Murphy and Plouffe were in league together. One hated the father and the other the son. Probably something we should investigate.”
William rested his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his palms. How could he not have seen this? The more the TRF team put together the more William felt betrayed. Why hadn’t his analysts found this out? He felt sick to his stomach. Someone—or perhaps several people--he trusted had manipulated data and misled him.
Loki reported, “Using the dates the HL/HB photos were received, we’ve found corresponding unit reports and assignments. We’ve got some potentially great evidence. It appears the General’s signature was forged on documents including some where Dan apparently requested assignment to other units.”
“My signature was forged?” William asked as he lifted his head.
“Blondie didn’t request to be assigned,” Winds said at the same time.
Loki looked between them and waited a moment.
Winds looked at the General confused. “Blondie was following orders from you. He never asked to be assi
gned to other units.”
“I didn’t order him. I was hands-off with his assignments.” William turned to Loki and asked, “How do you know my signature was forged?”
Winds spoke before Loki could answer. “I saw the documents. They clearly showed you ordered him.”
Blaze stepped in. “Plouffe was running two sets of orders then. It’s the only thing that makes sense. One that he showed Blondie indicating the General ordered him. A second set that got filed and showed that Blondie requested the temporary transfers.”
William’s voice was soft, “If only I wasn’t so hands off. I thought my son had ambitions to rise quickly and requested the transfers I signed off on.” He looked at Loki and asked, “How many transfer documents were forged?”
Loki saw the look of hurt in the General’s eyes. He answered, “Over half of them, Sir. I’m sorry, but your signatures were also forged on documents we found that classified the time Dan wasn’t in the field due to injuries as ‘down time’ to avoid detection of his constant field deployment.”
Then Loki gave a small smile because he could give the General a smoking gun. “Sir, what Blaze said is true. There are two sets of orders.”
General Broderick stared at Loki. “You can prove that?”
Blushing, Loki confessed, “Did you know that there’s a program that secretly saves a copy of each order processed on a hidden server?”
William’s expression reflected the same astonished looks of everyone else seated at the table. “Yes, I was aware of that. It’s highly classified. How—”
Loki interrupted the General. “Please don’t ask,” he said with a geeky smirk.
General Broderick gave Loki a lopsided grin. Damn, this man was good. CSIS could use someone with his skills—hell, he could use someone with Baldovino’s skills. He wouldn’t ask and potentially have to prosecute Daniel’s teammate for hacking things he shouldn’t. “So Plouffe isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. He created both sets of orders using the official software.”
“Yep,” Loki smiled as Patch hugged him.
“How did you recognize forged signatures?” Bram asked.
Ray answered, “It’s easy to spot if you know what to look for.” He smiled—this was one positive thing that came out of his time with the Blooddrop Crew.
William was incredulous again. “And you know what to look for?”
Ray nodded and then showed the General two signatures. William couldn’t see a difference in them—both looked to be his. After Ray was done explaining, William could see the minute differences.
“Will this hold up in court?” William asked.
“If you have a credible handwriting expert testify, yes,” Ray answered. “The question that is yet to be determined is … who forged your signature?”
Nick said, “Sir, we need a list of the aides that handled that type of paperwork over the years.”
“Why?” the General asked, troubled.
“To see if there’s any link to the Major,” Jon supplied. “For a cover-up of this length and complexity to happen, the Major would’ve had to have accomplices or else your staff changed with such frequency they didn’t notice.”
“Private Tina Jordan and Corporal Cody Merrill are the only aides to handle that type of paperwork in the past seven years. However, Private Jordan joined my staff only two years ago,” the General responded despondently, hoping they were not involved.
Corporal Merrill was always efficient and coolheaded and William liked him. Merrill had been on his staff for over eight years and didn’t strike him as someone who would be in cahoots with the Major. But no one was above suspicion. The potential magnitude of this betrayal hit William hard.
Squaring his shoulders, William emotionlessly stated, “If you’re going to look into them, we need to look into my entire staff. It could’ve been someone else even though they weren’t assigned to handle those types of documents. I’ll write out a complete list of the staff I’ve had over the past ten years. It will be quite lengthy. Most staff rotate out after a year or two.
“However, there are five staff members that have been with me nearly the entire time Daniel was in Special Forces. They are Corporal Cody Merrill, Master Corporal Karla Weeks, Master Corporal Pierre Griggs, Corporal Brittany Archer, and Master Corporal Ian Forrest.”
Seeing the defeated look on the General, Nick thought it might be a good idea to call it a night. “We can begin again in the morning. Tomorrow will be soon enough for the list. We still have other paths to follow to see if the stolen mail and Pletcher are connected in any way with Plouffe’s other treachery.”
Weary, William stood. “Thank you all. You’ve made more progress in one day than others have made in years.” He looked at his soldiers and stated, “I’m sorry. I have many questions and so must you. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Blaze nodded. Yes, they needed to talk. The General was right about this shaking the foundations of Special Forces, but it also shook his foundation. Why had he never gone directly to the General or the Colonel with his concerns? The guilt of everything he might’ve been able to stop settled heavily on Blaze. His failure to protect Blondie was greater than he ever imagined.
Jon’s mind wasn’t burdened by the same things as the General and Blaze. He was thinking clearly. He stated, “We need to locate the Major tomorrow and have someone keep tabs on his movements. Dan is in no condition to protect himself from this bastard and we can’t let Plouffe get close.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as Patch slowly walked to the bedroom to check on Blondie.
Grand Citadel Hotel – Dan’s Room – 11:55 p.m.
Heather looked up from her book and pulled out her earbuds when the door opened. She saw that Jim looked very weary as he entered the room. She stood when he arrived at Dan’s bedside. “He’s resting easy. No issues.”
Patch checked Blondie quickly then turned to look at Heather. She was so kindhearted and refused any payment for what she was doing. He was glad the General allowed Heather to be with Blondie while he was helping with the investigation. “Thanks, Heather. Can I get you a coffee before I leave?”
“No, I’m good. Should I give Dan his next dose of sedative or hold off?” Heather asked as she bravely laid her hand on Jim’s arm—hoping he saw it as just a caring gesture and not as her real need to touch this amazing man.
He liked the feel of her hand on his arm—she was truly a caring woman. Patch wished it meant something more. “No, I want to stop the sedative tonight so that Blondie will wake naturally sometime in the morning. You have my cell number if he starts to wake before I’m back in the morning. Call if you need to—I don’t care what time of the night it is.”
Heather smiled. “I can see that he means a lot to you.”
Patch leaned over and squeezed Blondie’s left bicep. He couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled out. Patch dropped to his knees as his shoulders started to shake and the tears rained down.
Heather was initially shocked, but she quickly wrapped her arms around Jim and held him as he cried. She could sense a deep pain in Jim. What prompted it she had no clue, but Jim needed comfort and she would provide.
After several minutes, Patch began to regain control. He felt Heather’s arms around him and embarrassment flooded in. He hadn’t intended on breaking down in front of her. He wiped his eyes and started to get up. He was surprised when Heather’s hand appeared with a tissue for him.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I can see the stress everyone is under. I’m a good listener if you need to talk.” Then Heather sat down on the floor next to Jim.
Patch blew his nose and then moved from his knees to his butt and leaned his back against the bed. He looked up at Heather and only saw warmth and concern in her expression. His voice was a bit unsteady as he said, “He’s my little brother. I patched him up for years and thought I was doing my best for him. I wasn’t, though.”
Heather placed her hand over his in his lap. “You did well. I’ve seen his scars and understa
nd what it must’ve taken to keep him alive.”
His eyes welled with hot tears again. “I didn’t do well. I should’ve done more. I should’ve spoken up. I should’ve gone straight to the General and said my piece. Blondie suffered because I was too cowardly to tell off the General. If only I had …”
William hadn’t meant to overhear. He had come in to get his things to go shower in the other bedroom. He squatted down next to Patch and his voice was firm with a hint of emotion, “This is not your fault. Without you, my son would’ve died several times. Please don’t discount what you did for him.
“Plouffe was counting on everyone following protocol—we did and the bastard got away with it for too damned long. But … this is on me. I chose to distance myself from Daniel under the false assumption it would protect him. As a result, you all were harmed. Thank you for always being there for Daniel. I can never repay you all that you deserve.”
Patch looked up at the General and saw the truth in his eyes—eyes so like Blondie’s. The General truly cared about his son and was as broken up inside about this as he was—probably more so.
Giving Patch a pat on the shoulder, William rose and said, “Get some rest, soldier. You need it and you’ve more than earned it.” Then he grabbed his bag and left the room to shower.
Heather whispered to Jim, “He’s right.”
Patch watched the General leave then looked to Heather before he got up. “Call me if you need to.” He slowly left the room as his mind replayed the General’s words, ‘Thank you for always being there for Daniel’. Those were words he never expected from the General—but they rang true in his heart—the General meant every word he said tonight.
Chapter Fifty-Two
July 18
Grand Citadel Hotel – Dan’s Room – 10:00 a.m.
Patch watched diligently for the slightest sign that Blondie was waking. He had a dose of sedative prepared and off to the side in case Blondie woke and his mind wasn’t ready to handle the onslaught of emotions. Patch had promised to inform everyone when he saw the signs of waking because they all wanted to be there, in a show of support, when he opened his eyes.