Sweepers

by P. T. Deutermann

  Jack cried out as Train gave the finger an extra little nudge. His eyes were streaming and his face was red and straining. He was almost on the ground, trying to escape the crushing pain. His pack of cigarettes had spilled out on the concrete like a handful of nails. But he was still defiant.

  “Fuck you, man,” he spat in a low, hoarse voice as his elbow touched the concrete. “Fuck you! I just do what my old man tells me to do, okay? So fuck you!”

  Train, surprised, let him go then and stood up. He looked over at Karen, whose expression was a mask of shock. He wasn’t sure if it was over the way he had manhandled this punk or if she had heard what Jack had just said.

  “Get out of here, asshole,” he said to the figure crouching at his feet.

  “And remember, you can run, but you can’t hide. “

  Jack grabbed his jacket and-scuttled backward, holding his right hand under his left armpit and clumsily wiping the tears off his face with the back of his left hand. But as soon as he was back out in full public view, he straightened up and sauntered back toward the hangar, head up, never looking back, as if nothing at all had happened. Train walked over to Karen. From the disapproving look on her face, he had a pretty good idea of what she was mad about.

  “Sorry about that,” he began.

  “No you’re not,” she snapped.

  Okay, so now we know, he thought. “No, I’m not,” he agreed. “I just didn’t like the way he was-“

  “You don’t listen so well, do you?” she said, those green eyes blazing.

  “Let me say it again. When I need your protection, I’ll ask for it. We came here to find out something, and now that kid will never talk to us.

  Now what are we-“

  Train put up his hand to interrupt her. “Did you hear what he said?”

  She checked her anger. “Yes, I did.” Some things of value.’ That phrase-“

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. That last partwhere he said he was just doing what his old man told him to?” She stared at him. “What?

  He said that? Working for his father!” She sighed and looked away across the airfield.

  Train decided to say nothing for a moment. It wasn’t as if he had any answers, either. But finally, he felt compelled to break the silence.

  “We need to go back to Great Falls,” he said. “It’s time to think. We need to get Gutter programmed f I or your perimeter. I didn’t like that crack he made about you being his father’s new girlfriend. I know, I know,” he said as her eyes started to flash again. “But remember what he just said. It’s time to think, Karen. That kid is definitely part of this. And as far as that little creep is concerned, you’re the admiral’s new girlfriend. Suppose Galantz thinks the same thing?”

  At 9:30 that night, Karen was sitting in the study, doing some household paperwork, when the phone rang. Train had gone home about an hour ago.

  Gutter’s ears perked up when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Karen, this is Tag Sherman.”

  Karen sat up. They had agreed not to tell the admiral about their encounter with Jack until they had had time to talk to Mcnair. “Yes, sir. Hello,” she said. “Did you meet with the police today? Is everything okay with that?”

  “Peachy. They brought a consultant in, some ex-IRS guy.”

  “Ugh. Was it human?”

  “Marginally. But I have my taxes done by a pro, and they’re really not that Complex. or they weren’t. Galen’s estate is going to complicate life a bit. This guy was having trouble not licking his lips. Anyhow, there apparently was nothing there that the cops cared about.”

  “What did Mcnair say when it was all over?”Thank you for your cooperation; we’ll be in touch’?”

  “That’s exactly what he said. But I was hoping you had some feedback.

  And I apologize for the late-hour call.”

  “We haven’t talked to or heard from the police,” she said, wanting to minimize what they had learned at Quantico. “We’ve been working on building a picture of where your son, Jack, is and what he’s doing.”

  “And?”

  “He works down at Quantico, at -the Marine base. He’s apparently a rigger in the helicopter-maintenance section.

  We’re waiting for some more information from the NIS database.” She was getting uncomfortable with the lies.

  There was a pause on the line. “I’ll be interested in … well, how he is, what he’s like, when you finally interview him. I’d thought of maybe going along.” When she did not reply, he said, “Well, I guess that wouldn’t be very smart.”

  “No, sir, it probably wouldn’t,” she replied, grateful that she had not had to say it. “We’ll give you a debrief when we have something.” Then a question occurred to her. “Admiral, you’re on leave right now?”

  “Sort of,” he laughed, but without much humor. “I’m actually up at the Bureau, heading up a selective early retirement board for senior chief petty officers. That’s not for publication until the board reports out, by the way.

  Which is why my office is saying I’m on leave.”

  Karen wanted to ask how long this little temporary additional-duty assignment had been scheduled, but she held back. The Navy went to great lengths to keep selectionboard membership confidential, so the sudden assignment was plausible. But it was also a very convenient way of “Convenient, huh? I suspect Kensington instigated th lower my visibility in Opnav while this current mess sorted out.

  “So this had not been in the works for some appreciable time?”

  “Would you believe as of eighteen hundred last night The board’s been scheduled for a while, of course. The president’s slot was supposed to be filled by another officer, who was suddenly unavailable. So, yes, now officially incommunicado for the next three days. Any velopments on Galantz?”

  Karen hesitated. She wanted to tell him about what I had found out from his FBI contact. And about the visit had received. But Jack’s last words on the tarmac thrown them both for a loop.

  “Not yet, Admiral,” she said. “But Mr. von Rensel been talking to some people.”

  “I hope he’s getting somewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, at a loss as to where to go f there. He seemed to sense that the conversation was on

  “Okay, Karen. And, again, thanks for everything yo doing. I thought when I made admiral, I’d be the gu, control. These past days, I’ve begun to feel like a wood in the rapids.”

  “That’s just what this guy’s trying to accomplish, miral,” she said.

  “But I think having Train von Re working it is going to help-a lot.”

  Sherman agreed, thanked her again, and hung up. Slig embarrassed, she put the phone down and patted Guti head. She thought about Jack Sherman, his overtly inso demeanor and the brazen way he had looked at her. father had probably seen a lot of that sneer before the vorce. She dreaded the thought of finally sitting down i Sherman senior and telling him that his son was still a sli ball, or worse.

  they’re really not that complex. Or they weren’t. Galen’s estate is going to complicate life a bit. This guy was having trouble not licking his lips. Anyhow, there apparently was nothing there that the cops cared about.”

  “What did Mcnair say when it was all over?”Thank you for your cooperation; we’ll be in touch’?”

  “That’s exactly what he said. But I was hoping you had some feedback.

  And I apologize for the late-hour call.”

  “We haven’t talked to or heard from the police,” she said, wanting to minimize what they had learned at Quantico. “We’ve been working on building a picture of where your son, Jack, is and what he’s doing.” 6”And?”

  “He works down at Quantico, at the Marine base. He’s apparently a rigger in the helicopter-maintenance section.

  We’re waiting for some more information from the NIS database.” She was getting uncomfortable with the lies.

  There was a pause on the line. “I’ll be interested
in … well, how he is, what he’s like, when you finally interview him. I’d thought of maybe going along.” When she did not reply, he said, “Well, I guess that wouldn’t be very smart.”

  “No, sir, it probably wouldn’t,” she replied, grateful that she had not had to say it. “We’ll give you a debrief when we have something.” Then a question occurred to her. “Admiral, you’re on leave right now?”

  “Sort of,” he laughed, but without much humor. “I’m actually up at the Bureau, heading up a selective earlyretirement board for senior chief petty officers. That’s not for publication until the board reports out, by the way.

  Which is why my office is saying I’m on leave.”

  Karen wanted to ask how long this little temporary additional-duty assignment had been scheduled, but she held back. The Navy went to great lengths to keep selectionboard membership confidential, so the sudden assignment was plausible. But it was also a very convenient way of putting the admiral on ice while the Galantz thing played out. He must have read her thoughts.

  “Convenient, huh? I suspect Kensington instigated this to lower my visibility in Opnav while this current mess gets sorted out.

  “So this had not been in the works for some appreciable time?”

  “Would you believe as of eighteen hundred last night?

  The board’s been scheduled for a while, of course., But the president’s slot was supposed to be filled by another flag officer, who was suddenly unavailable. So, yes, now I’m officially incommunicado for the next three days. Any developments on Galantz?”

  Karen hesitated. She wanted to tell him about what Train had found out from his FBI contact. And about the visit she had received. But Jack’s last words on the tarmac had thrown them both for a loop.

  “Not yet, Admiral,” she said. “But Mr. von Renset has been talking to some people.”

  “I hope he’s getting somewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, at a loss as to where to go from there. He seemed to sense that the conversation was over.

  “Okay, Karen. And, again, thanks for everything you’re doing. I thought when I made admiral, I’d be the guy in control. These past days, I’ve begun to feel like a wood chip in the rapids.”

  “that’s just what this guy’s trying to accomplish, Admiral,” she said.

  “But I think having Train von Rensel working it is going to help-a lot.”

  Sherman agreed, thanked her again, and hung up. Slightly embarrassed, she put the phone down and patted Gutter’s head. She thought about Jack Sherman, his overtly insolent demeanor and the brazen way he had looked at her. His father had probably seen a lot of that sneer before the divorce. She dreaded the thought of finally sitting down with Sherman senior and telling him that his son was still a slimeball, or worse.

  She gave up on the paperwork and got up to turn off the lights. She had told Train she would be in the office to morrow, where they were going to have to make some important decisions. She realized as she locked up downstairs that she was only beginning to appreciate the box Galantz had fashioned for the admiral.

  WEDNESDAY Eady the next morning, Karen called into the office and left a message that she would be late but that she was coming in. She had actually overslept, courtesy of the secure feeling of having that big Dobe in the house. She checked her voice mail. There was one message, from Sally, who had not been able to feed the horses this morning because she had to take her father to the doctor’s office. She asked if Karen could please feed them.

  Karen groaned. Murphy’s Law, she thought. She deleted the message and looked at her watch. It was almost 8:30.

  The horses would be standing indignantly by their gates, an hour overdue for feeding. Okay, get the horses fed and turned out, then come back in, change into uniform, grab a cup of coffee, and jump into traffic to get down to the Pentagon. Wait, better call Train and tell him she’d be late. She punched in the office number, but it came up busy. Now what?

  What had happened to the office voice mail? Then she remembered Harry.

  She’d have to get Harry into the house before letting the Dobe out, or they might fight.

  She groaned out loud. Arranging both dogs was too hard.

  She told Gutter to stay, patting him on the head, then slipped out the front door. Harry whimpered at her from under a porch chair, but he did not join her. She could hear Gutter complaining as she walked down off the front porch and headed for the barn. She was amazed at how quiet it was as she headed into the hedge passage. If she stood still, she could almost hear the sweep of the Potomac River through the woods beyond the big pasture. Even the hedge passage which on Monday night hadposed such a terror for her: looked entirely benign in the April sunshine, its crocus borders smiling at each other across the bricks. Duchess whinnied from the barn enclosure. “Oh, all right,” she said out loud, and walked down toward the barn and her starving charges.

  Train went to the athletic club early, then arrived in the office at about 8:15. He opened up his LAN mail to retrieve the full text of the database report on Jack Sherman. He grabbed a cup of coffee while the report was downloading into his computer, and he asked the yeoman if he had any messages. The yeoman told him the voice mail was down but that there had been no calls for him. “Oh, and Commander Lawrence will be coming in this morning, but late,” the yeoman said.

  Train went back to his cubicle, wondering how late was late. They had two immediate problems to work. whether or not to tell the cops about Jack, and finding out why the warning from the DNI had been shortstopped, and by whom.

  The first item would provoke an argument. He was leaning toward full disclosure, having had too many bad experiences in multiparty investigations wherein information was held back for political or bureaucratic reasons. Karen, in her zeal to protect Admiral Sherman, would not agree, but it was going to be tough getting around the matter of what Jack Sherman had said about working for his father. That didn’t make any sense at all, unless they had missed the whole point of what was going on. The warning that Galantz might be a sweeper, they would have to take up with the JAG himself.

  Karen opened up the feed room, found three feed bowls, and measured out three rations. It had been so long that she had to consult the feed board to see what they were getting these days.

  “It has been a while, girls,” she said to her three interested observers, who were clustered in the comers of their paddocks near the barn, watching her through the feed room’s door and occasionally pinning their ears and making threatening faces at one another. She finished the rations, then carried the flum bowls out to the feeding buckets, which were hung on the fences. She watched with satisfaction as everybody piled into their buckets, feet stamping and with in occasional white eye peeled over the rim of their buckets to stare at one another, just in case.

  Karen watched for a minute, then went down the aisle to the door of the hay room. Most of the hay was stored in square bales on the second floor of the barn. One room on the ground floor had been designed as the hay service room, with a trapdoor between the upper floor and the ground floor so that hay could be dropped down into the service room periodically. She unlatched the door and stepped into the semidarkness.

  There were ten bales stacked on the concrete floor. The trapdoor in the ceiling was closed, as it should be. She cut the strings on one bede and carried out six pats of hay to a waiting garden cart. She rolled the cart back down the aisle to the area of the feed buckets, then gave each horse two solid pats of hay on the ground near their buckets.

  She rolled the cart back down the aisle, past all the empty stalls.

  Sally kept a trim and clean barn, she thought. All the tools were hung up neatly, and the cabinets with vet supplies and tack-cleaning stores were a closed. She was lucky to have her, and only too happy to do the feeding chores from time to dw if that’s what it took to keep Sally. She opened the hay service room to put the cart inside, and suddenly there was a black-gloved fist in her face, a snapping sound, and a very brig
ht Purple flash that seemed to make her eyes ring and her’brain stall, and then, without so much as a squeak, she was falling backward into a fathomless black canyon.

  By nine o’clock, Train decided to call Karen’s house, but there was no answer. Maybe she was stuck in traffic. He asked the yeoman for the number for her car phone, but the yeoman did not have it. He sat at his desk and scanned the database report again, his mind uneasy. He called her again at 9:15, and then he realized that calling was a waste of time. Something told him to go out there. But that would be dumb if she was on the way in. They’d simply pass each other out on the road.

  He got up and paced around the office, making the yeoman nervous. He asked two of the other officers in IR if they had the number for Karen’s car phone, but they looked at him as if he was slightly nuts, although they were polite about it. He went back to his cubicle and thought about going to see Carpenter. No, he decided, not without Karen.

  Then he remembered the athletic club. Would she have gone there before coming into the office? Knowing he was waiting? Maybe she would if she was still mad at him. Women!

  He got the POAC phone number and asked for them to page her. They obliged, but there was -no reply. But that didn’t mean anything if she was in the pool or out for a run. He looked at his watch. Going on ten.

  Damn it!

  Karen surfaced in total darkness, surrounded by a strong smell of rubber. Slowly, she realized that it wasn’t really darkness, but that her eyes were blindfolded. It felt as if there was cloth or bandage material pressed against her eyelids, and a strap or tape of some kind wrapped around her head to hold the bandages in place. There was even something in her ears, something that felt like a cotton or Styrofoam plug. She tried to move but couldn’t. She was on her back, her feet and hands bound, probably by tape, from the feel of it. There was even a patch of tape over her mouth, with a small hole cut in the area around her lips. She could breathe through her nose, and partially through her mouth.