Operation (24 page)

“What are you talking about?” Reese asked. Deep in his stomach, he was getting a queasy feeling. “Questions about what? Who the hell are you anyway?”

 “What you know best, Commander.”

The use of his title again and the sound of the man’s voice flashed Reese back to the final debriefing of the Team of Darkness operation. Why this memory came to him became clear as he remembered the non-descript man who attended the final debriefing—the man who delivered the subtle warning of the consequences of failing to maintain the classified nature of the op.

“You?”

“You remember me?” Smith said, still smiling, and making a slight bowing motion. “I’m honored.”

“Yes. Your taunting little speech about how we were to keep quiet, dripping in threats of retaliation if anyone leaked any information was pretty memorable. Oh yeah, I remember you.”

“I’m flattered that such a scholar like you would remember a humble government servant such as me.”

“Look, I don’t know what this is all about, but I told everyone everything I know. Read the transcripts. It’s all there.”

“Yes, well, that might be. However, we have some more questions. Besides, we are interested in what Lieutenant Colonel Barkley had to say to you the other day when he visited.”

So Barkley was right—it wasn’t just his imagination that he was being followed.

“You’re watching me?” Reese asked, fearing that his last meeting with Dimitri, at the bar in Norfolk, had been observed.

“We watch everything and everyone. That’s our job.”

No…he doesn’t know about that. If he had, he would have come out of the woodwork sooner and I would be locked away somewhere.

“And you work for?” Reese probed.

“A group responsible to make sure that everything remains tidy and neat—just the way it should be.”

“That’s not an answer,” Reese said sarcastically.

“Too bad. That’s the only one you will get,” Smith shot back.

“Anyone ever told you your attitude sucks?”

“I think it’s been mentioned before—but I don’t really care.”

“Well, in that case, I will have to say no to whatever invitation you have for me.”

“Let’s not make this ugly, Commander Reese.”

“That’s retired,” Reese shot back. “I am retired.”

“I’ll get to that in a minute…Commander. You know as well as I do the commitment you are under to come when called by your country. Just because you take off the uniform doesn’t mean you’re through—but you know that, don’t you? So, why do you resist?”

“I’m not resisting anything. I just asked you what you want and who do you work for and you won’t give me any kind of answer.”

Smith stepped closer to Reese. “Let’s just say it’s privileged information, shall we…or put more bluntly, I don’t have to tell you a fucking thing. My authority is absolute in this matter. Do you understand?”

“What are you going to do? Take me out of here by gunpoint or something?”

“No. That would attract too much attention. Too messy. But we also figured you might not be too willing to be…cooperative.”

Reese watched as the man removed an envelope from his jacket pocket and held it out to him. “Here, it’s for you, go ahead and read it. Oh, and no charge for delivery.”

Reese took the envelope from the man. It was unsealed and clean. He lifted the flap and removed the contents. He immediately recognized the form. He had seen quite a few of them during his time in the Navy: it was military orders, the kind you get to move onto your next assignment. He read:

From: Chief of Military Personnel, Washington, DC

To:  Commander John Reese, SC, USN, 164-54-8935

Subject: RECALL TO ACTIVE DUTY

Ref: (a) SECNAVINST 1243.4S

Ref: (b) NAVPERSMAN 1111.34D

In accordance with references a and b, Commander John Reese is recalled from the Fleet Reserve and returned to active duty. Length of recall at discretion of the Chief of Naval Personnel. You are to immediately report to the Naval Investigative Service, Pentagon, Washington, DC for reassignment.

Signed

Admiral Sorenson

*****

“You’re fucking kidding me…” murmured Reese, as the realization of what was happening settled upon him. He had heard of this, but it was rare; normally only in the event of war, or if you possessed some type of specialty that the service was short on. Until you officially transferred to the retired reserve at thirty years of service, you were still fair game and subject to recall to active duty.

“In case you were wondering, Commander, the date to report for duty is tomorrow.”

Not wasting any time, are they? Something must be wrong—have they learned that I didn’t kill the vampires? Or is it something else—maybe they captured Dimitri and the others.

“And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if you refuse to show up,” added Smith.

“I’d be UA, unauthorized absence, or better yet—refusing to obey a direct order.”

“That’s right. And of course, me being the civic-minded civil servant that I am, I would have to inform the local authorities and yada-yada-yada, you know the drill—don’t you, Commander?”

“Yes, I know it,” Reese said, resigned. There was not much he could do but play along. “What about my teaching here?”

“Already taken care of. I’ve taken the liberty of speaking with the Dean. It’s amazing how, when you mention “national interest,” that people’s ears perk up.”

Reese folded up the paper, replaced it inside of the envelope, and then stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He didn’t like not having any aces he could play.

“Why do I feel like I’m being railroaded?” he asked, even though he knew it was a rhetorical question.

“Because you are,” Smith said. “Life’s a bitch, ain’t it? 

“I guess it wouldn’t do me any good to ask how this was done or what justification was used to get this through the chain of command. Would it?”

“Don’t waste your breath. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I suppose not. How long?” Reese asked.

“How long what?” Smith said.

“How long am I going back on duty?”

“Not for me to decide. I’m just the messenger service. Oh, and about that Naval Investigative Service crap in there—it’s all bogus. Those are just to get you in the door.”

“Bogus, hmm, gee—now, there’s a surprise,” Reese said in an overly sarcastic tone.

Smith didn’t laugh. “You’re a funny guy, Commander Reese. Very funny. Maybe you can help me out with something here. I’m puzzled why General Stone chose you in the first place. I’ve read all about him and you don’t seem to be of the type of material he would want working for him.”

“What? You mean not like a mindless idiot, like you?”

“I like you—you’re funny!” Smith said and then laughed. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

“Yeah, fun,” Reese said.

Smith walked toward the door. With his hand on the handle, he turned back toward Reese.

“Commander Reese, I would advise you not to be late tomorrow.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“You don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, do you? She doesn’t like that—in fact, I don’t think she likes anything. She makes my disposition look like Mary Poppins.”

“Don’t ruin my image of Mary Poppins, but thanks for the warning.”

“Don’t mention it. Well, I have to get going and I know you have things to do as well, such as find some uniforms and stuff to wear tomorrow. But that shouldn’t be a problem. You Navy guys all like to save some of those pretty white uniforms. What is it you call them—lady killers?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Sure, you don’t. Yeah, well remember, don’t be late. Call me when you arrive and I’ll get you through security. My number is written on the backside of the orders.”

 “Thought of everything, haven’t you?” Reese asked.

“Like I said, I’m just the messenger service. However, in answer to your question—obviously, someone hasn’t thought of everything. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

“I suppose not,” Reese agreed, thinking this statement was the first one Smith had said that actually made sense.

“Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

Chapter Three

Pentagon-Washington, DC

Reese glanced up at the early morning sky as he locked his car door in one of the many Pentagon parking lots. He stretched his arms over his head, loosening kinks from the three-hour-plus drive from Norfolk. He had thirty minutes before his scheduled meeting with Smith and his mysterious boss. He began the long walk to the main building with the rest of the herd of personnel, both military and civilian.

After a few steps, he remembered he had yet to place his hat, or rather his cover as they called it, on his head. He removed it from where it was wedged between the inside of his arm and the side of his hip. His fingers felt the gold oak leaf stitching on the brim and he allowed them to linger there for a few seconds. Despite the strange recall to duty, Reese had mixed but generally pleasant feelings about wearing the uniform again. Even after retiring, for a brief moment, he felt as if he was back home again. He had heard about this from other retirees. No matter how much people bitched about getting out of the Navy, whether by retirement or otherwise, things always seemed to straighten themselves out with time and one could look back on it with positive thoughts.

Those thoughts quickly dissipated as he decided this sudden recall to active duty must have had something to do with the Team of Darkness. On the drive up, he had replayed in his mind what could have happened to warrant the recall. Had they found out what he did? Had Dimitri and the others resurfaced somewhere else?

“Good morning, Commander,” a voice said to him.

Reese looked to his right. A petty officer second class was holding a salute as he crossed Reese’s path. Reese raised his arm and saluted back.

Welcome back to the Navy, John…

“Good morning,” Reese said and then lowered his arm. His questions would be answered soon enough, he thought, as he merged in with the herd of people heading to the building.
Soon enough…

Reese arrived at the interior checkpoint in the Pentagon and asked one of the security guards to dial the number Smith had given him to get an assigned escort. In less then ten minutes, a voice called out to him.

“Good morning, Commander Reese,”

Reese looked up. Smith was standing there with a rather large smile on his face. More like a smirk, Reese thought.

“Looking good, really fine in that uniform,” Smith added, as he rolled his eyes and added an overly animated whistle for insult.

Reese said, “I need to warn you now that I’m not your type of fella, if you know what I mean. You’ll have to go back to the dark bars you hang out in to find what your usual idea of a good time is. Now, can we please get on with this?”

“Glad to see you still have a sense of humor. We’ll see about changing that for you, Commander Smart Ass.” Smith handed Reese a visitor badge. “Let’s go.”

They walked in silence through the labyrinth of hallways until they reached an elevator. Unlike the other elevators, this one had no one in line waiting to get in. The words “Authorized Personnel—Access Level One” were prominently displayed on the doors and on the wall. Smith swiped his identification card in the reader next to the elevator doors and they immediately opened. They stepped in and proceeded down.

Reese knew that the Access Level referred to the level of security clearance required. Level One was for personnel with a top-secret clearance. He had possessed a top-secret clearance when he had been on active duty and working with the Special Warfare Groups. He also knew that within that classification, there were still more levels, levels unknown to most people for reasons of National Security. Reese guessed that wherever he was heading to see whomever it was that had summoned him belonged to one of those “other” groups.

The elevator doors opened and they went through the security procedures with the Marines standing guard. When they had finished, they continued down the unadorned passageway.

“In here,” Smith said, as he stopped at a door. He swiped his identification badge in the reader and there was an audible click as the lock disengaged. Smith pushed the door open but didn’t enter; rather, he stepped to the side, leaving Reese room to go by him.

“Go in,” Smith said.

“What? You aren’t coming with me. And here I thought you had feelings for me.”

“You’re on your own, Navy boy. We’ll see if you’re smiling later.” Smith laughed as he pointed in the direction Reese was to go. “Move.”

Reese stepped into the room. He heard the door close behind him, probably harder then it needed to be. Smith was just adding to the “scary” effect, he thought.

It was working.

The room contained a desk and two chairs. The sole contents on top of the desk were a lamp and a telephone.

The telephone began to ring. Reese looked around with the instinctive and traditional, “are you going to answer that” look, but he was the only one there. He moved toward the desk and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Commander Reese,” a female voice said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“Wha—” Reese began.

CLICK
.

“Hello?” Reese said. He looked at the receiver in his hand as if it should provide an explanation. Deciding none was forthcoming; he hung up the phone and sat down. He had nothing else to do but wait.

After two hours, Reese began to pace the small room. He concluded he was in an interrogation room of some sort and he knew that he was probably being watched. He tried to unobtrusively search for the camera that he knew was probably watching him, looking into the corners of the room, and up at the ceiling, but he didn’t see anything. That left the desk with the telephone and the lamp.

Process of elimination, my dear Watson
.

He picked up the telephone and examined it by running his hand along its side. He discovered a slight bubble on the side that seemed odd. Was it an optical port of some sort? He thought it might be but there was only one way to find out. He placed his cover over the telephone at an angle and sat back down to wait.