Sweepers

by P. T. Deutermann

  She held her breath and closed her eyes. You’re imagining things. Look again. I don’t want to look again. Do it.

  She looked again. Nothing. She bent farther down, scanning the entire crack. Nothing. Taking care to make not a sound, she straightened up and leaned back on the fender. A mouse scuttled in some leaves in a comer of the garage, but there were no other sounds, inside or out.

  Call Train. Yes, call Train. But not on this phone. Use the other phone, the Explorer’s. She went over to the Ford, looked inside, and got in.

  She turned on the car phone, then hesitated. If he had a scanner, he could listen to any car phone. He had the Mercedes’s number, why not the Explorer’s? The phone in the house was no good, either, as he had tellingly demonstrated. Suddenly, all the familiar, secure appurtenances of her LIFE were turning on her. Get to a pay phone. Drive to the village of Great Falls and use a pay phone to call Train.

  She locked the doors of the Explorer and reached for the garage door’s transmitter before she remembered that she still had no keys. Damn. I have to go into the house. She sighed, unlocked the doors, and got out of the car. She knelt down to look under the garage door again, feeling her right stocking pop a run. Nothing. She reached’back into the car and hit the remote transmitter switch. With much groaning and rattling, the left-side door rose up from the cement floor.

  Even though it was dark outside, there was suddenly much more light in the garage. She looked around and saw the handle of the wood-splitting maul Frank had broken and never replaced. She picked it up; then, holding it in both hands, she walked out of the garage and headed for the house. 71be first thing she noticed was that all the house lights were back on. She stopped in front of the house and scanned the windows.

  Nothing out of the ordinary. The front door was still open. She looked around the front yard, then climbed the front porch steps as quietly as she could and peered through the living room windows. The fiirnimm she had collided with in her dash for the garage was still overturned on the floor. Hell with it, she thought. I’m going in.

  She went through the opened front door, the maul handle ready. She walked quickly through all the rooms on the first floor, through the dining room kitchen, Frank’s study, turning on lights wherever she went and opening closet doors.

  She stopped when she got back into the living room. The house felt empty, for whatever that was worth. She reached for the phone, which was on the floor. There was no dial tone. She hung it up and waited a minute, then picked it up again. Dial tone. The numbers-where was the damn card?

  There was some scratching and whining at the door, and she went to let Harry in. The dog was a bit wobbly and displaying total embarrassment, his head down and tail plastered between his hind legs.

  “It’s okay, Harry. It’s not your fault,” she said, rubbing his head.

  “You’re no match for ether.” She locked the front door again and went into the kitchen, the dog glued to her heels. She dropped the maul handle on the kitchen counter and found Train’s card crumpled in her skirt pocket. She reached for the phone again but then thought about it.

  Was it tapped? Could he be listening right now? And which number should she call?

  She looked at her watch. It was II: 15. From Great Falls to the Beltway was almost ten miles. Another ten around the Beltway to I-95. Aquia was at least twenty miles beyond that. He might not even be home yet. She looked at the numbers. Phone, car phone, and fax.

  Fax.

  Frank had a fax in the study, on the second house line.

  She could send Train a fax, and there was no way he could listen in to that. She hurried to the study.

  Train faxed back twenty minutes later: Did she want him to come back and had she called the cops?

  I She replied, scribbling furiously with a ballpoint, the maul handle two feet away from her. Said she was pretty sure he was gone, and that no, she had not called the cops.

  “Do you have a dog?”

  “Yes, but old. Found him unconscious in the barn when it all started.

  Ether. He’s back in the house now.”

  “If dog can operate, take him through the house to make sure you are alone. Then lock up. I’ll be out there at first light. Don’t call cops unless you think he’s come back. This contact must go direct to Mcnair, not patrol cops. In emergency, use the phone, but assume it’s bugged.

  Got a gun?”

  Frank kept that huge government-model Colt .45 auto in the safe. She was pretty sure it was still there. But she hadn’t fired one since OCS.

  “Yes.” she scribbled back to him. It was slow going, but hopefully secure. She never wanted to pick up a phone and hear that whisper again.

  “Get it out. Keep it close. Keep dog close. Barricade bedroom door. I’ll contact Mcnair in the morning.”

  She nodded to herself Keeping the dog close would not be a problem.

  Harry was lying across her feet, trembling, his fur still reeking of ether.

  “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  “Hang in there. He was there-to warn you, not hurt you.

  You are not the target,” Train replied, and then the fax machine went silent.

  Not the target, she thought. Not yet, anyway. She crumpled all the flimsy paper into a trash can and opened up the safe. The big automatic was at the back. There was a full clip in the butt. She racked the slide back with some difficulty and chambered a round, then let the hammer down very carefully. It had been a long time since OCS and her small-arms training, but she still knew how to chamber a round. Firing it would be something else again. Probably take down a wall if she tried it. Gun in hand, she went around the house again with Harry, but he seemed much more interested in sticking to her than in sniffing out bad guys in the closets. When she was satisfied that no one was in the house, she checked locks and lights, then went upstairs to bed.

  TUESOAY She gave up trying to get back to sleep a little after five.

  Her night had been fitful, disturbed by dreams of whispering objects, and she had started awake with every night sound.

  Harry looked at her accusingly when she finally turned on a light and got up, but he dutifully followed her downstairs after she had washed her face and combed her hair. She brought the big automatic with her, putting it down on the counter next to the coffeepot. It looked very much out of place.

  It was still dark outside, but there were signs of light visible on the eastern horizon. First light, she thought, then realized she was still in her nightgown. She hurried upstairs and threw on some jeans and a sweater. She got back downstairs just in time to see the headlights of Train’s car rolling up into her driveway.

  She went outside as Train got out. He waved to her when she said good morning. Then he went around to the back of the car, where he opened the two rear doors and called softly. An enormous Doberman hopped out onto the driveway, looked around briefly, saw Karen, and trotted right over to the porch steps. She was about to flee back into the house when Train gave a command and the dog stopped in its tracks at the top of the steps and sat down.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  Train laughed as he came over. “That is Gutter. He’s your new-and-improved security system.”

  “Gutter?”

  “You have to admit, the name lends a certain style,” he said, patting the dog’s sleek black head. “His real name is Gbtterddmmerung, but”Gutter’ works as a metaphor for everyday mayhem.”

  “Will he eat Harry?” she asked as she headed back inside.

  “Not if he’s submissive.”

  She had to go get a leash before she could drag Harry out to the front porch. Harry adopted a disgustingly submissive posture in front of the statuelike Dobe, who looked down at Harry briefly before resuming his inspection of the morning sky. Karen took off Harry’s leash, and the old dog slunk down the porch steps and out of sight around the comer.

  I”Okay, that’s all we need,” Train said. “There won’t be any trouble between those two. Now you.
”

  “Me what?” she said, eyeing Gutter.

  “Sit down on the top step, right next to him. Do what I say. Do precisely what I say. Have you showered yet this morning?”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said as she nervously sat down next to the dog, whose head was slightly higher than hers.

  “Scent is all-important,” he replied. The dog looked at Train and waited. Train came up on the steps and sat down on the other side of the dog. He reached across the dog’s back and took Karen’s hand. Karen felt as if she was putting her hand in a big warm vise. He held her hand alongside the dog’s muzzle and bent down next to the dog’s face, speaking in German as he did so.

  The dog looked first at Train and then back over his shoulder at Karen.

  Then he wiggled like an eel and was all over her, nuzzling, sniffing, making happy whimpering sounds like a big puppy. He ended up with his head in her on top of their joined hands, his big -brown eyes watching her face carefully. She was suddenly very aware of Train’s hand on the tops of her thighs.

  “Okay, now you,” Train ordered, letting go of her hand.

  “Pet him; tell him he’s a good boy. Love it up a little. We’re telling him that he’s to be as loyal to you as he is to me.

  We’ll do it a couple more times while I teach you some basic commands and his rules of engagement.”

  She swallowed and complied, amazed at the transformation in the dog’s demeanor. Every Doberman she had ever seen looked underfed and keenly interested in rectifying that problem. This one was acting as if he wanted some warm Milk.

  “Rules of engagement. That sounds like weapons talk,” she said.

  “This is a weapon; it’s just in standby at the moment.

  Gutter’s going to live in your house for a while. You ‘ re going to show him around inside; then later, when I get back, I’m going to show him around outside to define the perimeter. It’s actually an exercise in scent, and touching.

  Dobes are really into touching. They’re extremely intelligent, and the good news is that they readily accept human females as dominant. When we’re all done, you’re going to be safe from creeps who come around here uninvited.”

  “What would he do to an intruder?” she asked, continuing to pet the dog.

  His shiny black hide felt like-she always imagined a seal would feel.

  “If he was outside, he would bark and run the guy off, staying just behind him but out of the range of hand weapons until the bad guy leaves the defined perimeter. Inside, he wouldn’t make a sound until the creep was well past any escape routes. Dobes like to do that, too. Let people in but not out. After which, he would nail the guy to the floor by his throat until someone told him to let go or to eat him.

  Pat him one more time and then get up. I’m going to demonstrate the bark.”

  She smoothed her hands over the dog’s head one last time and got up.

  Train also got up and gave a command. The dog sprang up into a standing position. Train gave another command and the dog broke out into a burst of the loudest barking Karen had ever heard. She clapped her hands over her ears in fright, and Harry left a visible piddle trail as he decamped across the front walk, heading toward the barn.

  After five seconds, Train gave another command and the dog stopped.

  “That’s bark. Here’s growl.”

  Another command, and the front yard was filled with a menacing rumbling growl as the Dobe leaned forward on his haunches, looking at nothing in particular. The growl was punctuated with an occasional lip-lifting grimace that revealed what looked like at least a yard of glistening canine ivory. Another command and the dog was silent again.

  “I’m not sure I can handle all this-” she said, looking at the dog’ who was still watching Train expectantly, waiting for the next command. The phone began to ring in the house.

  “You’ll do fine. I’ve written all this down. Mostly, he’s just going to be here. You better get that.”

  She slipped into the living room, followed by Gutter, who pushed his nose between the screen door I as she went through. Her neighbor Ken Parsons, of the perpetual lawn mower, was on the phone. She reassured him that everything was fine.

  She smiled as she hung up. “I think I might be able to get used to Gutter,” she said, reaching down to pet the dog.

  Gutter looked up at her approvingly. Train then told her to take the dog on a tour of the inside of the house, room by room. “Let him in your closet, and let him get a good scent of shoes. The laundry hamper, too.

  I want him to know your scent, okay?”

  She was almost blushing when they finished taking the dog around on his grand tour. They were back in the kitchen in ten minutes. Karen sat down in a kitchen chair,. and the dog parked himself between her feet.

  “Okay,” Train said. “Remember that he wants to be next to you, as you can see, or at least in the same room with you. Or anywhere you go. Make eye contact often, and show affection. He’s worth it.”

  “Did you raise him?”

  “Yes. My family’s had Dobes for years. My father used to breed and show them. Gutter is four, and I’ve done most of his training. He even likes the water, which is unusual.

  You should see him go fishing in the river.”

  “The river is not quite a half mile that way,” she said. “maybe I’ll take him fishing.”

  “He’d love it.” Train paused. “I need you to tell me about last night again. And then I have to get down to Fort Fumble.”

  “Why9 What’s happened?” she asked as she fixed two cups of coffee.

  “Checked my voice mail on the -way over here. Ms Legalness the JAG commands my unworthy civilian posterior into his presence first thing this morning. What’s the commute from here at this hour9”

  “Forty-five minutes if you get out by six-forty. I’ll send you the back way.”

  “Bad night, yes?” he asked.

  She nodded, still feeling a slight tremble in her hands.

  “Yes, bad night. Not much sleep.” She told him again what had happened.

  The Dobe sat attentively on the kitchen floor between them. She rubbed the back of the dog’s neck absently.

  “One question,” he said when she was done. “The voice-is there any chance it could have been Sherman?”

  She looked at him and then closed her eyes, trying to remember the voice. “it was mechanical,” she replied. “There was an odd volume to it, as if there was some kind of obstruction. And what sounded like a precursor breath before he spoke.” She shivered. “It was really spooky.

  But, no, I don’t think it was-Sherman. On the other hand-“

  “On the other hand, it was artificial, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “It could have been anyone, then,” she said.

  “You’re still suspicious of him, aren’t you?”

  He twisted his coffee cup around in his hands. “I still go back and forth. Listening to the cops last night, I found myself agreeing with their a-ain of thought. These Fairfax guys are pretty professional, and the pros tend to go with the Occam’s razor approach: The simplest solution is usually the solution. Then I would look at Sherman, see the distress in his face, and my heart would say, No way. This guy isn’t a killer.”

  “So why are you still suspicious?”

  “Well, you never saw anyone, except for the silhouette of those shoes through the crack under the garage door. He could have left the meeting, doubled back, parked the car out on Beach Mill Road somewhere, and walked back into the Property to terrorize you. Emphasis on the could have.”

  “And then accused himself of two murders?”

  “Arrgh,” Train said. “I hate it when you start getting logical.”

  “So, shouldn’t we call Mcnair?” she asked.

  “Let’s see what the JAG wants first. I want to go after Galantz, especially after this crap. But we need to be sure of our tasking. And I want to know why you were locked out of that file. II She shifted in her chair, looked at her coffe
e, then thought better of it. “But why wait to tell Mcnair?” she asked.

  “Because the cops will immediately think Sherman. First thing they’ll do is pun him in and question him as to where he went last night after the meeting here. And my guess is he went home, maybe via a fast-food restaurant’somewhere along the way. Which means he would have no alibi.”

  She nodded. “He doesn’t need that.,, “Tell me, can archived JAG investigation files be altered?”

  “NO. The investigations are official records. The system’s m up specifically to prohibit alterations.”

  Train thought about that. “Well, if that’s true, there’s something in that investigation file someone doesn’t want you to see. to see. I’m ( going to ask the good admiral about that. Then I hope to get through to my FBI contact. See what he can tell me about Galantz. The more meat we can put on the SEAL story, the less the cops will bother Sherman.”

  She nodded, suddenly too tired to argue. This great big dog did seem very comforting. Train was getting up.

  “I’ll hit the road now. I’ll come back and do Gutter’s outside perimeter training this afternoon. Stay in the house and keep Gutter with you. If you do go outside, say to the barn, keep Gutter with you. Just tell him to heel. If he needs to go to a tree, he’ll let you know, but then tell him to heel.”

  He bent down to pet the dog one more time. Then he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Now,” he said briskly, “what’s the best way down to the Pentagon from here?”

  She gave him directions and he left. She watched him go, surprised to find herself wishing he hadn’t gone. It would be very easy to get used to having him around.

  Ninety minutes later, -Admiral Carpenter’s yeoman announced that Mr. von Rensel was out in the front office, as requested.

  “Give me five minutes and then bring him in,” the admiral replied. “And don’t disturb us.” He hung up the intercom phone and called Captain Mccarty on the secure phone.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “I’m about to talk to Mr. von Rensel. I want to get his take on the Sherman business. The last update I had was from Karen Lawrence on Friday, right?”