Puller’s features remained inscrutable even as he inwardly seethed at this inane insult. “I need to hear from my chain of command. It goes up to the commanding general at the U.S. Army’s Criminal Investigation Command and then tops out at the Army’s Provost Marshal General. Just like you have a chain of command.” Puller cocked his head and eyed the man more closely. “So can you tell me who ordered you to do this?”
“To do what?”
“Feed me a bunch of bullshit.”
“Sorry, but you’re not cleared for anything else.”
“On the contrary, I’m cleared for everything up to TS/SCI with polygraph. How about you? What are you cleared for?”
Puller eyed the wall behind the man where photos and mementos were hung. They looked to be of local politicians, business leaders, a few national pols whom Puller recognized, shaking hands and grinning and doing what elected officials are often compelled to do. He didn’t even know if this was Moss’s office. There had been no name on the door.
“That’s none of your business,” said Moss, an ugly expression on his face.
“For somebody with all the answers, you don’t seem to have any.”
“Don’t push me!” barked Moss. “You think you’re something special because you wear a uniform?”
Puller rose and looked down at the man.
“I’ve got better things to do with my time than sit here.”
Moss pointed a finger at him. “You work for the federal government. Your loyalty lies there. You follow orders. Well, here’s your order: Stay away from the Vincenzos.”
Puller flinched slightly. “So father and son, then?”
To Puller, who was observing Moss closely, the man seemed to have regretted his words, not because of their harshness, but because of their carelessness. He composed himself and said, “You’ll learn I don’t make threats lightly.”
Puller closed the door quietly after him, even though his initial impulse had been to slam it.
Don’t give the idiot the satisfaction.
As Puller walked outside the government building he saw a column of dark clouds shaped like anvils creeping across the Delaware River as a storm rolled in over the water.
It definitely fit his mood.
Before he got to his car he phoned Pine and filled her in on his meeting with Moss.
“What the hell is going on? Why is all this happening?” “Teddy did mention that his son was involved in something way over his head. Maybe the people behind that got me called on the carpet with Moss.”
“But that would mean the folks involved in a criminal enterprise have connections to the government.”
“Corruption is the number one business for some politicians. Serving the country faithfully doesn’t even run a close second.”
“Well, it’s certainly plausible that Tony Vincenzo or the people he was working with could have connections to some powerful people.”
“We just have to find out who they are. Hey, how about some dinner tonight and we can plan our next moves?”
“Sounds good.”
Puller gave her the time and place.
“But we need to tread lightly, Puller. It’s all well and good not to be called off by a jerk like this Moss guy. But there have to be people behind him who carry a lot more clout.”
“It’s one of the reasons I didn’t shoot him. See you tonight.”
Chapter 10
Pine took a shower, changed into jeans and a sweater, gunned up, and slipped her badge and creds into a bag, which she slung over her shoulder. She caught her reflection in the mirror.
I do look like my mother.
The mother who had abandoned her. That was not a motherly thing to do. It had tainted everything that Pine felt about her. Yet she still wanted to know where her mother was. Whether she was alive or dead.
She drove to the restaurant, which was in a suburb of Trenton. She had looked it up online. It served Italian cuisine without breaking the budget of two federal stiffs like herself and Puller.
He was already waiting in the small foyer when she got there. He was dressed in jeans, a gray V-neck sweater with a T-shirt underneath, and a windbreaker.
The waiter took them to a back table, something Puller had requested. He sat with his back to the wall, which was something Pine liked to do as well.
The restaurant had the usual decorations for that kind of place. Fake vines growing out of old Chianti bottles, framed prints of yachts and beachgoers on the Mediterranean hanging on the wall, red-and-white-checkered tablecloths, and menus thick enough to be novellas.
They ordered Peroni beer and opted to share a pizza with Greek salad starters. Each of their gazes had already taken in all the patrons in the place, and all possible exits. It was in the DNA. It should be in everyone’s DNA, Pine thought, particularly these days when any building could, at any moment, become a shooting gallery.
“I didn’t ask you before, but how’s your brother and your father?”
“Bobby’s doing great. Running a chunk of the country’s cyber-security now.”
“And your father?”
Puller’s father was “Fighting John” Puller, a legendary Army three-star with more medals than almost anyone. He was now in a VA hospital suffering from dementia.
“Hanging in there” was all Puller would say. “Just hanging in there. How’s Arizona?”
“Hot. And dry. How about you? Are you still in Virginia?”
Puller said, “Yeah, but I spend most days on the road.”
“Our jobs don’t leave much time for pleasure.”
“No they don’t. You still doing the Olympic weightlifting and MMA tournaments?”
In college Pine had competed to be on the women’s weightlifting team for the Olympics but had missed out on a slot by a kilo. She was a black belt in multiple martial arts and had competed in MMA matches.
“I still lift just to stay in shape. I’m getting too old for the MMA stuff, but I can still kick over my head,” she added with a grin.
“I hear you.” He paused. “So, I dug a little into this Moss guy, but I didn’t find much. I don’t think he’s been in the job long.”
“He hasn’t” was Pine’s reply.
He looked up at her. “You scored something?”
She nodded. “Called in some contacts. Up until a year ago he was a bigwig attorney in Manhattan. Then he joined a lobbying firm. He went right from there to working for the Bureau of Prisons. He’s currently the northeast regional director, which puts Fort Dix under his jurisdiction.” She paused. “If you met the guy, didn’t he tell you that? Or wasn’t the title on his office door?”
“No and no. I don’t think it was even his office. There were a bunch of photos on the wall, but he was in none of them. He’s probably not based in Trenton. He was just the closest attack dog they could sic on me.”
“That’s interesting.”
“It’s also informative. And infuriating. He obviously doesn’t hold the military in high regard.”
“Why’d you even bother to meet with him?”
“I got the call and was told to meet with the guy.”
“Who told you to do that?” she asked.
“A guy two levels up from me at CID. He didn’t seem happy about it. I think he was just grudgingly passing the request along. But his tone made it clear I had to go.”
“So Moss ordered you to stand down?”
“Which I told him he had no authority to do.”
“Bureau of Prisons is under DOJ.”
“Still not in my chain of command,” Puller replied.
“But DOJ can make it really hot for you.”
“I haven’t heard any blowback yet from my side, which I take as a good sign. My folks want whoever’s behind this drug ring Tony Vincenzo’s involved in. Like I said, if they’re selling to soldiers, it diminishes their military readiness. If soldiers are selling the drugs, it opens them up to blackmail by enemies of this country. So it ultimately strikes right at America’s national security. If DOJ wants to make the argument to the DoD that something takes precedence over protecting this country, I’d love to be in the room to hear what it is.”