About Face

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  “If anyone had something to say, they would have contacted me,” Alex said. “Ingram spoke for them all.”

  “Are you sure they knew how to contact you?” Leah asked. “Maybe they’re being watched and can’t reach out to you.”

  Alex blushed.

  “Your family isn’t talking,” Leah said. “Somehow, there’s no word on your team. They’ve effectively disappeared. The Vice-Admiral found you through your dog’s identification chip.”

  Alex cleared her throat and looked out the window.

  “Listen, I don’t want to talk you into staying in the military,” Leah said. “I’d much rather have you work for me. But I think you need to be sure that Admiral Ingram speaks for your command. For yourself, I mean. You need to think about what best serves your goals. It’s just possible that . . .”

  “Staying in the military is the best way to find the Black Skeleton,” Alex finished Leah’s thought. She gave a rueful shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Leah. I’ve been so caught up in my own . . .”

  Alex sighed, and her hand went over her heart.

  “That I didn’t . . .” Alex said.

  Leah pulled up in front of the house she and John had rented.

  “Why don’t you think about it?” Leah asked. “I’m going to be involved in these war games for at least another week. I won’t have a chance to do anything until they’re over. Can I contact you then? See what you’ve decided?”

  “Yes,” Alex said. “Please do. And . . .”

  Alex tried to open the door, but the child locks were on. Scotty got out of the car to open the door. When he was out, Alex turned back.

  “Thank you for saving us, Leah,” Alex said. “I’m grateful that you would risk yourself to help me. It means a lot to me. If there’s a bill, I will certainly pay it.”

  “I was going to add it to the war-games bill,” Leah said with a grin.

  “Well, if that doesn’t work out,” Alex said.

  Leah nodded.

  “I promise to think about this,” Alex said.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Leah said.

  Scotty helped Alex out of the car. Standing on the grass, Alex watched them drive off. She’d been so hurt and felt so ashamed that she’d withdrawn to lick her wounds. The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to risk finding out that everyone felt like Admiral Ingram.

  Now, she needed to take some action.

  But first, she needed to take care of her family. Smiling to herself, she went inside.

  “Hello?” Alex asked.

  Maggie and her twins responded with joy at the sound of her voice.

  F

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The next morning

  Friday early morning

  November 4 — 5:35 a.m. PDT

  San Diego, California

  “Love,” John called into the shower for Alex.

  “Hey, I thought you’d left.” Alex grinned at him. “You want to come in?”

  “More than you could possibly imagine,” he said, looking her up and down. “I was on my way to the train when . . .”

  “You felt the magnetic draw of me?” Alex asked.

  “I wish,” John said. “There is a limousine outside waiting for you. They asked me to come tell you they are out there.”

  “Who’s out there?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not quite sure,” John said. “Someone who doesn’t want to be on a satellite image.”

  “Ah,” Alex said and turned off the water. “I’ll make a call.”

  He leaned in and kissed her.

  “Tonight,” he said.

  His eyes stroked her one last time and he left. Alex hurried through her shower. From the bathroom, she called Trece to see what he could find out about her visitor. Helene was sitting on her bed when she came out.

  “I was just wondering if I should wake you,” Alex said.

  “Why?” Helene asked in Parisian French. “Did something happen?”

  Alex went to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She pulled on a pair of cotton underwear and wrestled with a sports bra.

  “I thought we were taking the babies to the zoo,” Helene said.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to go. There’s a car outside for me,” Alex said in Parisian French. She went back in her closet to look for her body armor, and then remembered she hadn’t replaced it after last night. “I don’t know who it is or what it is, but it’s likely to take my day. I’d much rather spend the day with you, but . . .”

  “Did you and John talk last night?” Helene asked, interrupting Alex.

  “Only enough to say that we needed to think about what we wanted to do,” Alex said.

  Helene gave her a worried nod. Alex had just decided not to worry about body armor when she caught a look at herself in the mirror. Even with the sports bra and less than sexy underwear, her body was a map of scars.

  “Why are you here?” Alex asked, more irritably than she felt.

  She smiled at Helene’s worried look. Helene smiled and nodded her understanding.

  “You mean on this planet?” Helene asked.

  Alex gave her a firm look as she tried to remember where she’d left her extra body armor. Helene grinned.

  “I am Parisian,” Helene said. “Existentialism is my very life blood.”

  Grinning, Alex shook her head and went back into her closet.

  “Are you looking for your body armor?” Helene asked.

  “Have you seen it?” Alex asked from inside the closet.

  “Hanging on the doorknob,” Helene said.

  Alex got the package off the doorknob and scowled.

  “What’s wrong?” Helene asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Alex said. “It’s new so it’s always super tight and awkward for a week or so.”

  Helene lifted a lip in understanding. Alex wiggled her way into the tight-fitting armor. She turned around so Helene could zip it. They fought the zipper until it came up. Alex dug the edges of the suit out of her softer parts.

  “You are always welcome, wherever I am,” Alex said. “I’m just not sure why you came for a visit.”

  “I . . .” Helene said.

  “What about school?” Alex asked, as she clipped on her sacrum holster.

  “I . . .” Helene said. She sighed. “School is . . . Everything is fine.”

  “What’s going on?” Alex asked as she stuck her Glock 9MM into the holster. “Just tell me.”

  “Because you may die today?” Helene asked. “Drowned or be shot or some other horrible thing?”

  “Because I love you,” Alex said softly. She pulled the body armor out of her cracks one last time before putting on her jeans. “I want to know what’s going on with you, inside you.”

  “Love,” Helene snorted and fell back on the bed.

  Alex pulled on a long sleeved T-shirt and sat down next to Helene.

  “Is it Fionn?” Alex asked.

  “He wants to marry me,” Helene said.

  “That’s fantastic,” Alex said.

  “What about Larry?” Helene whispered.

  Helene’s hands went over her eyes, and she broke down. Alex stroked the girl’s curly hair while she cried. Sergeant Larry Flagg had been an intelligence intern on the Fey Team. He was killed a few years ago in pursuit of the Black Skeleton.

  Fionn had fallen in love with her while Larry was alive. He had been her confidant and friend after Larry had died. He and Helene started dating a year or so later. Fionn was John’s sister, Rita’s, second son.

  “It’s almost been two years,” Helene whispered.

  “What does Fionn say?” Alex asked. She scowled. “Is he pressuring you?”

  “No, no way,” Helene said. “It’s just that he’s ready to do his rotations and . . . and . . . He wants to go into emergency medicine like Johnny. But that’s like . . . that’s . . . Doctors get killed in emergency rooms!”

  Alex looked up to see Helene’s mother, Claire, lean
ing against the door jam. Alex waved her into the room.

  “Oh, chérie,” Claire said in Parisian French.

  “It’s just this time of year,” Helene said. “Reminds me . . .”

  Claire sat down next to Helene on the bed.

  “His parents were particularly horrible this year,” Claire said.

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  “Mom!” Helene said.

  “I will not keep my mouth closed. No more,” Claire said, her voice rising with anger. “Every six months or so, these horrible people send Helene a letter or harass her on the telephone, or through that social media.”

  “Saying what?” Alex asked.

  “I killed Larry!” Helene said. “It’s my fault.”

  Claire let out a string of curses in French.

  “It’s not your fault,” Alex said. “Larry knew what he signed up for. He knew the day we met what might happen. He made the choice to become a soldier a long time before he met you. He would be horrified that you felt responsible for his death — no matter what his parents say. They didn’t know him.”

  “That’s not what they say,” Helene wailed.

  “Oh, Helene,” Alex put her face next to the girl’s. “I need to deal with whoever is waiting for me outside. I just hate to leave you with all of this suffering.”

  Helene was sobbing and didn’t respond.

  “Don’t worry, Alex,” Claire said in English. “We understand about this exact kind of thing. I will be here with her. We will talk when you get home.”

  “I was going to wake up Joey and Máire, but I need to . . .” Alex said.

  “We will help Quince with those rowdy twins,” Claire said. “Won’t we, chérie?”

  Helene sucked in a breath and nodded.

  “You can also just stay right there until I get back,” Alex said.

  “No,” Helene said. “You’re right. This is not what Larry would want. But . . .”

  Helene sat up to face Alex.

  “Why don’t I see him?” Helene asked. “You know, like you see Jesse?”

  Alex forced herself to keep a neutral face. She lifted her shoulders in a sad shrug.

  “There’s no rhyme or reason for that kind of thing,” Alex said. “I know Larry. If he could be here, he would. That’s the Larry I knew.”

  “Me, too,” Helene nodded.

  She jumped up and gave Alex a hug.

  “Give ’em hell,” the girl said with artificial cheer.

  Alex kissed Helene’s cheek, hugged Claire, and left her bedroom. She jogged down the carpeted stairs and met their dog, Maggie, by the front door. Nodding to herself, she grabbed Maggie’s leash and some plastic bags. At the door, she texted Trece’s cell phone.

  “Any news?” Alex texted.

  “CS Army. Wants a private conversation. Bring dog.”

  The Chief of Staff of the US Army was waiting in a limousine outside her house. He was the highest-ranking officer in the US Army. He reported to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He technically had the same power and authority as Admiral Ingram. However, as the head of Special Operations command, Admiral Ingram was a Combatant Command, which meant he had more authority and less oversight.

  “Thanks,” Alex texted back.

  She waited a minute until she heard the limousine pull out. She put on a hooded jacket and slipped out of the house with Maggie. She flipped up her hood, walked down their street, and turned right. She walked down half a block and crossed the street. She started north on the cement path around the golf course. She walked for ten minutes before Maggie needed to stop. She was bending to pick up the poop when General Fonti ran up behind her.

  For a tall, thickly built man, the General moved with remarkable ease. Alex joined him in a light jog. They’d done this exact thing more than once in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he was a commanding General.

  “I keep expecting you to start updating me,” General Fonti said.

  “I’m dead, sir,” Alex said. “The only updates I can give you are that my dog, Maggie, has pooped.”

  “Good to know,” he laughed. “Now tell me, did your husband really name the dog after Margaret Thatcher?”

  “She’s called ‘Bloody Maggie’ in our house,” Alex said.

  “The dog?” General Fonti laughed.

  “If you say so, sir,” Alex said with a grin.

  They jogged for a while before he slowed to a walk.

  “You’re moving well,” General Fonti said.

  “I’m . . . okay,” Alex said. “After last night, I need to get a tune-up on my hip.”

  “Nine hours in the Pacific Ocean will do that to you,” General Fonti. “How did you . . .?”

  “Hutchins, sir,” Alex said. “I had an incident in the pool earlier this year. He insisted that I get back in and learn to keep myself a float. The team followed. No one loves the water, except maybe Hutchins, Tubman, and Carmichael, but it’s necessary to be water fit.”

  Alex didn’t say anything else. He held out a water bottle to her, and she shook her head.

  “I’m cutting back,” Alex said.

  General Fonti laughed. They turned the corner on the golf course.

  “I’m not sure where to start,” General Fonti said. “I had an entire speech worked out in my head, but I was so delighted to see you that now I’m not sure where to start. It was kind of a rant.”

  “You might be angry with me? You?” Alex asked in mock surprise. “Rant at me?”

  General Fonti laughed. Known to have a flash temper, he’d raged in Alex’s direction more than once. Alex always took it as a sign that he trusted her. She grinned at her joke.

  “I guess the gist of it is this: You work for me,” General Fonti said. “I am the head of the US Army. You are a United States Army officer. I am the senior officer in the United States Army. You work for me.”

  “But Admiral Ingram, sir . . .”Alex started.

  “Yes, I know all about what happened,” General Fonti said.

  “He wants my command and my rank, and he said if my team doesn’t retire by the end of the year, he’ll court martial all of us,” Alex said. “Almost everyone on the team has young children. No one can afford to lose their pension.”

  “I saw,” General Fonti said with a nod.

  “You saw what, sir?” Alex asked.

  “I’ll tell you, it was the strangest thing,” General Fonti said. “I was awakened around 3 a.m., Tuesday October 11, to my cell phone buzzing from three links. Sent to my phone from no telephone number, I might add.”

  “CIA?” Alex asked.

  “No, those bastards have their own way of contacting me,” General Fonti said. “I assumed they were from the spook you were hiding out with on Harkers Island.”

  “How would you know that?” Alex asked.

  “I am the head of the US Army,” General Fonti said. “Plus, he sent me a photo of you with a note saying that you were all right.”

  “And the links?” Alex asked.

  “Videos of your interactions with Admiral Ingram,” General Fonti said.

  “Did you see the one of the CSAF?” Alex asked. “I’ve heard it’s a doozy.”

  “The General called from his home not a moment after I finished watching the video from your C-130,” General Fonti said. “You got the Jakker to quit?”

  “I was told to force the Jakker and everyone else to retire or be court martialed in January,” Alex said. “He has an infant daughter and three teenagers. He can’t afford to lose his pension.”

  General Fonti grunted.

  “Admiral Ingram’s also after Steve’s team,” Alex said. “Trece risked his life last night by going with me to the USS Makin Island. We were told that he would be shot on sight as a traitor to the state! Trece! He’s risked his life for this country on every continent on the globe. He . . .”

  “I am aware of the efforts of Captain Ramirez,” General Fonti said.

  “We have dedicated our lives to . . . given more than . . .”
Rage rose inside of her. She opened her mouth to say more but glanced at him instead. Reading the look on his face, she said, “You know all of this.”

  “I do,” General Fonti said. “I also know about the F-15s that were scrambled to take down your chopper and that the Brigadier General at Pendleton is catching hell right now for housing you there. I spoke with him on the way here.”

  “And?” Alex asked.

  “The Brigadier General has authority over the entirety of the camp,” General Fonti said. “No matter what temper tantrum comes from one of the Combatant Commands. He is not required to report to the Combatant Command. He’s been in close contact with his command. They are aware of the situation and support him one hundred percent.”

  “He wants my beret,” Alex said.

  The words burst out of Alex in a soft whisper. General Fonti glanced at her and nodded.

  “I am aware of that,” General Fonti said. “And, so as you know, Admiral Ingram has launched an investigation into your ranking. He’s filed paperwork to have you demoted back to private, removing your Airborne and Special Forces tabs as well as the Sergeant’s rank which received when you were awarded your beret.”

  Nodding, Alex swallowed hard. General Fonti scowled and stared at the horizon. Alex opened her mouth to speak but stopped when the General looked at her.

  “First, you should know that the investigation into your ranking has been completed with complete cooperation from my office,” General Fonti said.

  “That was fast,” Alex said. “What was the conclusion?”

  “Ranking in the United States Army is not subject to review by Combatant Command,” General Fonti said.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Alex said.

  “It means that Admiral Ingram does not have the authority to demote you,” General Fonti said. “He does not have the authority to take away your beret. God damn it, the nerve of that man. And you!”

  He stopped walking and turned to Alex.

  “You believed him!” General Fonti said. “You didn’t even bother to even check. He told you that you didn’t deserve your beret or rank, that you were being kicked out of the Army, and you believed him!”

  “I . . .” Alex started.