Molten Gold (6 page)

“Really?” Adelaide peered closer, pressing her shoulder against
his. “Does it say how he died? Was it suspicious?”

Jared looked down at her notebook, where she’d scrawled the
four men’s names and a few squiggles he assumed were in shorthand.

“Uh.” He paused while he opened a link in the man’s
personnel file. “Here. Approximately twelve months ago he was in a car
accident. Alcohol and speed weren’t considered a factor. The other driver, a
Mrs. Carol Stennin, lost control of her car in a storm and crashed into Jerome.
He smashed into a telephone pole and died on the way to the hospital. The
police investigated and found it was an accident. Mrs. Stennin got a fine and a
slap on the wrist.”

“Is it unusual that so many men from the same team have
died?” Adelaide asked.

Jared shook his head. “Not really. I mean, it could be a
coincidence. It’s been more than ten years since these men were out there and
almost a decade since they were on active duty. People die, have heart attacks,
are caught in accidents. That’s life.”

“What about this last guy? Brett McLean.”

Jared skimmed the file.

“The good news is he’s alive,” he said. “His status is
retired, and he was honorably discharged.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared could see Adelaide
taking notes. He scrolled down. “Okay, he’s living in a small duplex about an
hour from here.”

“Do you have a photo?” Adelaide peered at the screen,
studying the picture attached, giving it her full attention. Jared concentrated
too. Brett McLean was far older than the man Adelaide had described and didn’t
fit the general physique she’d witnessed.

Finally Adelaide shook her head. “That’s not him. Damn. I
was hoping it would be that simple.”

Jared remained silent but rested his palm on her thigh in
comfort. She shook herself and seemed to brace for what was next.

“Okay, his address?” Adelaide asked. Jared read it out then
pulled up a new tab and opened Google Maps. As he read the driving instructions,
Adelaide continued to write. With that done he scrolled back to Brett’s file
and settled in to read it methodically.

Adelaide stood, then turned to look at him. “Aren’t we
going?” she asked.

Jared frowned. “What, now? I haven’t read his file, nor the
other men’s. I’d rather talk to him when I’m prepared.”

“But it’s almost dinner time—if we wait too much longer it
will be too late in the evening to go visiting,” she pointed out.

Jared glanced at the clock. “We can always call directory
assistance and try to get a phone number, ask if we can visit later in the
evening.”

“Why bother? It might give him time to get organized,”
Adelaide insisted. “I’d rather talk to him fresh, form my own impressions and
opinions.”

Jared could see the validity of her argument, but it still
rankled to be what he felt was under-prepared.

You’re getting soft, Teague,
his mind whispered to
him. Jared had to acknowledge the hit. In the last few years he’d easily become
used to the privilege of having plenty of time to prepare himself and
coordinate his thoughts. To strategize and plan his method of attack. Out in
the field, that was a luxury no one could afford under regular circumstances.
Decisions were made in minutes, not hours or days.

To hell with being prepared,
he decided. Adelaide had
been attacked and was very likely still in danger. Much as he liked her in his
house, and even though he wanted to keep her close, he didn’t want her chafing
under his restrictions. The quicker they had answers, the sooner she could
spend time with him because she chose to, not because of any outside pressure
she might feel.

“Okay,” he agreed. Saving all the files, he shut down his
laptop. “Let’s go and surprise Brett McLean, see what he has to say for
himself.”

“I’ve already got some notes on things I want to ask him,”
Adelaide said in a rush, clearly eager.

“How about I start?” Jared suggested. “Brett might be
willing to open up more to a fellow officer. Then we can hit him with you, the
niece of one of his comrades. How does that sound?”

“I’m okay with it,” Adelaide agreed. “As long as I can ask
him some questions, I’m good.”

“Maybe hold back that you’re a reporter,” Jared added. “It’s
pretty ingrained in us military people not to talk to the press. I’m not saying
to lie—don’t, he’ll catch it. But there’s still that lovely gray area where
you’re telling the truth, just not being completely forthright.”

Adelaide nodded. Jared collected his wallet and keys and she
grabbed her handbag. Locking the door behind them, they headed to the car.

Adelaide found herself unaccountably nervous. She’d never
met any of her uncle’s Army buddies. When Uncle Mark had been on leave,
everyone had gone their separate ways, eager to spend every minute with their
loved ones. And after he’d retired she felt certain he would have kept in touch
with his friends, but that hadn’t been a part of her relationship with him. So
she’d never had reason to be introduced.

She wasn’t naïve, though—she understood that the friendships
and bonds her uncle had made with these others would have been just as intense
as hers had been with him. They’d been in totally different aspects of each
other’s lives, but they’d all shared love and trust.

Meeting Brett would possibly give her some insight into the
man her uncle had been while in the Army. While Brett had just been a nameless,
faceless person she’d had no problem thinking he might be involved in the
assault on her. Even though she hadn’t let go of the theory that he was
involved quite yet, she knew it was a slim chance.

Jared pulled into a quiet, residential street. They counted
off the numbers until they parked in front of a small duplex. The walls were
painted a cheery yellow and the lawn out front was neatly mown. Although the
structure was run down, it was clear to Adelaide that someone took as much care
as possible of the place.

“You sure you want to come in?” Jared said to her. “I can
ask him anything you want and report back. If he’s involved somehow it mightn’t
be smart for you to show your hand by coming in.”

“I want to do this,” Adelaide insisted, and her mind was
made up. “Even if he is involved, he already knows pretty much everything we
know. I won’t stay out in the car like some scared little girl. I’d rather face
him. Besides, if he’s not part of this conspiracy, then it will be lovely to
meet a friend of my uncle’s. Show my respect for what they’ve all done. I’ll be
fine.”

“I’ll make sure you’re fine,” Jared said.

She glanced at him and caught the heat in his gaze. Adelaide
was so used to looking out for herself that it felt strange but wonderful to
have someone else keeping an eye on her. It made her feel cherished. Bending
toward him, she softly kissed his lips. She flicked her tongue out and ran its
tip over his mouth, tracing its outline.

“I know. I’m not worried, but I’m still getting used to
having a protector to look after me.”

“Well, get used to it, ma’am,” Jared replied, his voice
husky. “I plan to stick around for quite some time.”

“I hope so,” she agreed.

Adelaide unbuckled her belt and opened the car door. They
climbed out and paused together on the footpath of Brett’s house, standing
shoulder to shoulder. When she had the urge to reach out and take Jared’s hand
in hers, she squashed it. They weren’t there as a couple, or not really. Jared
was there to smooth the way in case Brett didn’t want to talk to her, and to get
answers for his boss. It was work. Besides, showing that they had a more than
casual acquaintance might not be the smartest move, especially if Brett was
involved in this somehow.

Adelaide just hoped he could answer some of her questions
about what had really gone on out there in the desert. She pulled her handbag
up over her shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Ready?” Jared asked.

She nodded.

Together they walked through the small gate and up the path.
Jared opened the fly screen and knocked on the wooden door. After a moment’s
pause she heard footsteps inside.

“Just a second,” a deep male voice shouted. Less than a
minute later the door opened.

A man who matched the general characteristics of the photo
Jared had shown her earlier was revealed. Brett looked older, Adelaide
discovered, though that could be the lighting, or perhaps he was just tired.
Tall—a little over six feet and solidly built—this was clearly a man who had
spent most of his life in shape. Adelaide could tell that Brett was no longer at
the peak of his physical fitness, but she’d bet he was still stronger, faster
and more agile than she was.

Worn jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt helped him to appear
modern, but still not young. Gray salted his temples and there were crinkles
around his eyes and mouth. Leathery, tanned skin from too much time in the sun
would also have added a few years, she guessed. Still, the man in front of her
was handsome and clearly in good shape.

“Corporal Brett McLean?” Jared asked.

Adelaide noticed that Brett stood up straight at the
strength and command in Jared’s tone.

“I’m Lieutenant Jared Teague and this is Adelaide Baker. We
were hoping to ask you a few questions, if we may?”

“Baker,” Brett repeated.

His gaze snapped to Adelaide. She found herself being carefully
studied by a pair of laser-intense blue eyes. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it
was rather like being under a microscope.

“Mark didn’t have any kids,” he said. Even though there was
insistence in his words, there was a faint question in his tone. Adelaide
smiled.

“I’m his niece, his brother’s child,” she explained.

Brett’s face lit up. “Not little Addy? Really? Mark’d read
part of your letters aloud to us all sometimes. Come in, come in. Did you
finish school? What was it you did? Not literature. Um…writing? No, journalism!
That’s right. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” She was going to let Jared enter
first, but he stepped aside, allowing her. Adelaide entered the house with
Jared right behind her. Brett closed the door and waved them down the hall.

“The kitchen ain’t much, but we’ll be most comfortable out
there. Keep going to the end of the hall,” Brett said. “Now, Miss Adelaide,
tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself.”

“Well, I did a course in journalism at the local college,”
she explained. “I was partway through my course when Uncle Mark came home for
good. He actually came to my graduation—my parents had passed by then. I
freelanced for a short time, building up my work folder, and now I work with a
good friend at one of the smaller weeklies.”

“Bless you, that sounds marvelous. I bet Mark was damn
proud,” Brett said as they entered the bright, sun-filled room. There was a
small table and four chairs near an island bench and a cramped sink area with a
stove and a fridge. The room took up most of the back width of the house, with
a door leading out into a tiny yard.

“Tea? Coffee?” Brett offered.

Adelaide and Jared shook their heads.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Jared replied.

“Then please, let’s sit.” Brett waved a hand to the table.
“Much as I’d enjoy catching up with Miss Adelaide, I’m assuming that’s not why
you’re both here?”

“I’m afraid I might have some delicate questions for you,”
Jared began. “Tell me, though, have you kept in contact with your Delta team
members over the years since you retired?”

“Well, Mark and Jerome both passed away,” Brett said. He
looked from Adelaide to Jared, seeming perplexed but not upset. “Mark from a
heart attack and Jerome in a senseless car accident. I attended their
memorials. Steve and I keep in sporadic touch, but I must admit it’s been a
while since I heard from him. It must be…oh, two, maybe even three months since
we last spoke. But that’s not too unusual. I probably would have tried to call
sometime in the coming month if he hadn’t contacted me first. Why? He can’t be
in trouble. Steve was always the straight-shooter. I can’t imagine him getting
into mischief.”

“Oh, he’s done nothing wrong,” Jared assured him. “It’s just
he, too, has passed away. Last month. Heart attack.”

Adelaide watched Brett carefully as Jared told him the
truth. Brett glanced quickly between them, as if seeking to see if a sick joke
was being pulled.

“What? Really? Are you sure?”

Adelaide could see confusion and disbelief on Brett’s face.
His head swiveled as he searched theirs. Jared nodded.

“I’m afraid so. You hadn’t heard?”

“No, not at all, I’m surprised no one contacted me about his
arrangements,” Brett said. He stared into the distance behind them, seeming to
relive memories. “I can’t believe I’m the last one left. That seems so wrong. I
was always the one prepared to take risks, the devil-may-care guy in our group.
Mark was the planner, Steve the conscience and Jerome was the best scout and
defensive guy you’d ever seen in action. I was always point man. Ready to head
forth into the fray and to hell with the consequences—excuse my language, Miss
Adelaide. I can’t believe they’re gone. We’re not really that old, or not
chronologically, at least.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear like this, from us,” Adelaide
added.

Brett just shook his head. “I’d never really thought about
it. It’s isolating. I felt loss when I heard about Mark and Jerome, don’t get
me wrong, but I never thought I’d be the last. I assumed Steve and I would grow
gray and withered, or more so than we already are. Those men and I went through
something special together. War changes you, and I know we all felt it. You can
be lifelong best friends with a man you otherwise never would have met. You
share something. It’s an intimate bond, far greater than any other I’ve known
throughout my life.”

“That bond doesn’t have to change,” Jared said softly. “It
still lives strong in you, Brett. And while you continue to honor it, your
teammates will be here through you.”

“We’ve all been ignoring it, but I guess we’re getting older
now, aren’t we? Funny how those times live more vividly in my mind than what I
did last week or last month.” Brett took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m
sorry, you must have questions.”

Adelaide and Jared exchanged a look. Jared tilted his head
slightly at her, so she took the lead.

“Brett, Steve’s widow found a gold bar in a safe deposit box
when she was tidying up his effects,” she started hesitantly. “It’s raised some
questions, as you can imagine.”

“Ah.” Brett sat back in his chair. He put his hands in his
lap and looked down at them as if he’d never seen them before.

Adelaide felt her heart sink. This time there was no shock,
no outrage, no immediate denial or heat. Had they really done something? For
once she had no idea what to question him about now. One thing she had learned
over the years during difficult interviews was the art of being patient.
Sometimes when the interviewee had organized themselves they’d start telling
their story where they felt comfortable and new openings showed themselves.

She sat quietly and Jared appeared to follow her lead.

“You need to understand the time we were in,” Brett said in
a low tone a minute or so later. “We’d been fighting a long time and there didn’t
appear any end in sight. Each of us had witnessed things beyond comprehension,
both good and bad. Some of the people we met were amazing, kind and strong. But
that didn’t detract from what an emotional, unstable time it was for everyone,
no matter which side you fought on. And from where we stood, looking on
helplessly, it seemed the world was going to hell in a handbasket. The few
snippets of information we received from home seemed almost dreamlike. A few
times we’d circled around our worries, that we’d be too changed to cope once we
returned home. Assuming we made it, of course.”

“And the gold changed that?” Jared asked. He kept his tone
light and nonjudgmental. Brett looked up at him for a moment, then glanced
away.

“Not really, not in the way I think you mean,” he admitted.
“Another thing that probably isn’t in those reports of your is that there were
many such convoys. Oh, most weren’t gold bars, but still treasures. Artwork,
sculptures, gem-encrusted household items. The week before we found our truck
there were rumors that one of the other teams had stopped a truck that held
gold statues of all Saddam’s kids and grandkids. Twenty of them, or something
like that, about half the size of the people in real life. Like I said, the
world had gone crazy.”

“Why weren’t they reported?” Jared asked.

Brett shrugged. “I’m not really sure, but I can guarantee
you most of it wasn’t stolen by our men. I mean, what would a soldier do with a
Van Gogh? Or a fifty-thousand-dollar lump of concrete made to replicate Venus?
Seriously? It was useless to us. From what I heard a lot of it was smuggled
onto the black market by the locals. They got a tiny percentage of its real
worth, but that was still a fortune to those lucky enough to have the
contacts.”

“So when you were confronted by a truck similar to the ones
in the rumors you’d heard, how did it play out?” Adelaide asked. She was
worried, nervous that her impressions of her uncle wouldn’t stand up to this.
But she had to know. She was too far gone now to close her eyes and pretend
none of this had happened. She hated the thought that her memories of a loving,
wonderful uncle might be tarnished, but she needed the truth.

Brett sat back and sighed. He looked out the window into the
backyard, but from his unfocused gaze Adelaide would have bet a lot of money he
didn’t see the view. That he’d been transported back in time, to a dusty desert
filled with the best and worst of memories.

“It was getting late in the afternoon,” Brett said almost
dreamily. “We were all tired and sweaty. The dust gets everywhere and when your
spirits fall you’re convinced you’ll never be clean again. We were at one of
the main checkpoints, a direct route out of Baghdad that led to the border of
Syria. Maybe the truck was headed to Damascus, who knows? We must have done a
cursory inspection of maybe fifty such trucks that day—it was one of thousands
in the fortnight we’d been on duty. It was Jerome who got into the back first.
Mark was talking to the driver and Steve and I were checking under the chassis
to make sure there weren’t explosives or other triggers. Jerome called out and
we each immediately went to him. The driver was babbling, clearly terrified. We
pulled back the tarp and I honestly thought I’d fallen asleep or had finally
lost it.”