John Puller 02 - The Forgotten

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John Puller 02 - The Forgotten Page 39

by David Baldacci


  “Not something I care about, General.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Julie. Off the clock now.”

  “Julie,” he said.

  “Diaz?”

  “Colombians have already picked up her remains. She died a hero. They’ll see to that.”

  “And Mecho.”

  “He made it through with a few dings, like me.”

  She focused on his bandaged arm and leg. “Oh, God, John, I just remembered you were wounded too.”

  “Just a few more scars to add to the package.” “Please tell me they caught Lampert. The last thing I remember is seeing him running away with his hands cuffed.”

  Puller hesitated. “If I tell you the truth will you swear that you’ll never tell another soul? Even if you’re called on to testify?”

  She sat up a little more and looked at him squarely. “What?”

  “Maybe I should just let it alone. I don’t want you to have to perjure yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Puller looked at the med lines going into a single unit inserted near her collarbone.

  “Morph drip for the pain.”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Morph messes with your memory.”

  “It can. But we were talking about Lampert.” “We were?”

  “John!”

  “He decided to take a little trip abroad.”

  “He got away? On his yacht?”

  “To Bulgaria. Understand he’ll be making it his permanent home.”

  “How is that possible? Didn’t the police arrest him?”

  “The police were a little tardy. We took Lam- pert’s tender to an isolated spot down the beach. From there, it was easy to put him in a truck and take him away. As far as the police know he got clean away. At least that’s what I told them when they asked.”

  Carson stared at him for a long moment and then said, “I think I feel the morph erasing my short-term memory.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “When can I get out of here?”

  “A few days.”

  “Will you come to visit me?”

  “I’ve been living here,” he said, pointing to a chair next to the bed with a pillow and blanket over it.

  She smiled tenderly at this. “Diego and Mateo?”

  “Back with their abuela. And they’re living in my aunt’s house. The other prisoners are being processed and will be returned to wherever they came from. That includes Lampert’s household staff.”

  “Rojas?”

  Puller shook his head. “No. Not today. But his time will come.”

  Carson looked overly agitated by this and Puller put a calming hand on her arm. A few minutes later the morphine kicked in and her eyes closed.

  Puller went outside and called his brother at USDB. He filled Robert Puller in on nearly all that had happened, only leaving out the fate of Lampert in Bulgaria.

  “Damn, John,” said his brother. “You need another month of R and R to get over the last few days of R and R.”

  “Actually, I think I’m ready to get back in the rank and file.”

  “What are you going to tell the Old Man?” “Not sure yet.”

  “You going to tell him that his sister is dead?” Puller thought about that and finally said, “No. I’m not.”

  “I agree with you.”

  Puller had given Sadie the dog to Diego and Mateo. The two boys and the little dog had instantly bonded. Puller figured they would be good friends for many years. And he hoped that living in a nicer neighborhood well away from the gangs would be a big plus in their lives. And Bullock had promised to keep an eye on them.

  There was a lot of paperwork and face time with Bullock, the state police, and the Feds. They said this would intensify the hunt for Stiven Rojas, but that the man had proven very elusive in the past.

  “Keep trying,” Puller told them before walking out of the last debrief.

  Carson was released from the hospital two days later, bandaged, bruised, and tired.

  But alive. Very much alive.

  That morning she and Puller flew back home on a private jet sent down by the Army.

  “Gulf Five,” said Puller. “Never been on wings like this.”

  “Stick with a rising general and she’ll take you places,” Carson told him as the steward poured out two glasses of champagne for them.

  Puller drove to his apartment after promising to have dinner with Carson that night at her place. A friend of his had taken care of AWOL while he’d been gone, but he let the cat out for a good long time and then played with him for an even longer time.

  The next day he drove to Pennsylvania carrying a small package. He parked near a field of green grass, climbed out, and walked to the middle of the field. He opened the top of the urn and took his time sprinkling his aunt’s ashes across the Pennsylvania countryside, just as she had wanted. He closed the empty urn, looked to the sky, and said, “Goodbye, Aunt Betsy. For what it’s worth, a long time ago, you meant the world to a little boy. And the man he became will never forget you.”

  Puller knew what he had to do next. In fact, it was past time to do it.

  He drove back to Virginia, showered, put on his dress blues, and headed to the VA hospital.

  He walked down the sterile corridors, his frame tall and ramrod straight.

  He heard his father before he got close to the room.

  The same nurse as before confronted him in the hall.

  “He’s been a bear the last few days. Been screaming for you nonstop. Thank God you’re here.”

  “Yeah,” said Puller. “It actually feels good to be here.”

  The nurse looked at him oddly as he passed by her and opened the door to his father’s room.

  Puller Sr. was in his usual blue scrub pants and white T-shirt. He looked both agitated and confused.

  When his father caught sight of him, Puller stood as erect as possible and executed a single crisp salute to his father.

  “Reporting in, General.”

  His father’s agitated state seemed to melt away and was replaced with a scowl. Puller would take a scowl over confusion from his father any day.

  “XO, where the hell you been?”

  “In the field executing your orders, sir,” Puller said in a loud voice, enunciating his syllables just as the Army had taught him.

  “And the outcome?”

  “Mission accomplished, General. Fair winds and following seas.”

  “Damn good work, XO. Damn good. At ease.” “Yes, sir,” said John Puller and he lowered his hand and sat down next to his father.

  For the moment no longer a solider.

  Now only a son.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Michelle, for keeping it real and fun.

  To David Young, Jamie Raab, Mitch Hoffman, Emi Battaglia, Tom Maciag, Maja Thomas, Martha Otis, Karen Torres, Anthony Goff, Lindsey Rose, Bob Castillo, Michele McGonigle, and all at Grand Central Publishing, who support me every day.

  To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs Baker, Lisa Erbach Vance, Nicole James, Frances Jalet-Miller, and John Richmond, for being the best team a writer could ever have.

  To Anthony Forbes Watson, Jeremy Tre- vathan, Maria Rejt, Trisha Jackson, Katie James, Aimee Roche, Lee Dibble, Sophie Portas, Stuart Dwyer, Stacey Hamilton, James Long, Anna Bond, Michelle Kirk, and Natasha Harding at Pan Macmillan, for leading me to new heights in the UK.

  To Arabella Stein, Sandy Violette, and Caspian Dennis for being great partners across the pond.

  To Ron McLarty and Orlagh Cassidy, for continuing to knock the audio performances out of the park.

  To Steven Maat at Bruna, for taking me to the top in Holland.

  To Bob Schule, for your friendship, enthusiasm, and editorial skills.

  To Chuck Betack, for keeping me straight on all things military.

  To the families of Jane Ryon, Griffin, and Mason, I hope that you enjoyed the characters.

  To my buddy C
arl Brown, I hope you enjoyed seeing your name in print.

  To Kristen, Natasha, and Erin, because I’d be hopelessly lost without you.

  And to Roland Ottewell for another great copy editing job.

  Table of Contents

  The Forgotten

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  CHAPTER 72

  CHAPTER 73

  CHAPTER 74

  CHAPTER 75

  CHAPTER 76

  CHAPTER 77

  CHAPTER 78

  CHAPTER 79

  CHAPTER 80

  CHAPTER 81

  CHAPTER 82

  CHAPTER 83

  CHAPTER 84

  CHAPTER 85

  CHAPTER 86

  CHAPTER 87

  CHAPTER 88

  CHAPTER 89

  CHAPTER 90

  CHAPTER 91

  CHAPTER 92

  CHAPTER 93

  CHAPTER 94

  CHAPTER 95

  CHAPTER 96

  CHAPTER 97

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

 

 


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