“Do we have anything concrete,” Turner asked, “that suggests such an alliance is taking place?”
The DCI answered. “We have monitored a huge increase in telephone calls and personal contacts between some very strange parties.”
“Such as?” Turner asked.
The DCI consulted his notes. “Viktor Kraiko engaged in long conversations with Mikhail Vashin. After the removal of Boris Bakatina, Vashin appears to be the new leader of Russian organized crime. He’s even got the Circle of Brothers, that’s the senior godfathers of the vor, under his thumb.”
Turner’s fingers beat a tattoo on her desk in a well-known signal. They were about finished with the subject. “If I understand what you’re telling me, we’re seeing some new mix of the political and criminal leaders of Russia. What exactly is the threat stemming from all this? Are there any domestic implications for us?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Mazie replied.
“At best,” Serick said, “it means a legitimization of criminal activity.” He snorted. “Nothing changes in Russia.”
Turner recalled that morning’s discussion about Russian organized crime and Yaponets. “Mazie, keep on top of this and talk to the attorney general.” She paused. Mazie was one of her most trusted advisors and was obviously concerned about the situation. As president, did she need to do more? She turned to the vice president. “Sam, next week—” Her voice trailed off.
Sam Kennett laughed. “I’ll add Poland to my European vacation.”
“No one,” Serick grumbled, “goes to Poland for a vacation.”
Zeth Trogger led Maura, Pontowski, and Sarah from Quarters One to Lusk Hall, the administration building. She set a slow pace for Maura O’Keith and patiently answered Sarah Turner’s endless questions about NMMI. Zeth’s answers were right out of the Parents’ Handbook and Pontowski smiled. “What class are you in?” he asked.
“Third Class, sir,” Zeth answered. She was a senior in high school.
“Why did you pick NMMI?” Sarah asked.
“My dad’s an alumnus and I always wanted to come here.” She gave the little girl a serious look. “It’s a tough school. My Rat year was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Pontowski studied the cadet. Zeth Trogger had beautiful green eyes that flashed with intelligence and spirit. An eighteen-year-old on the cusp of womanhood, she was definitely feminine and curvy. But she wore no makeup and her only concession to femininity was her long hair. She walked with the confidence of an athlete. “Sports?” he asked.
“I’m on the soccer team,” Zeth answered.
“I didn’t know you had a women’s soccer team at NMMI.”
“We don’t,” she answered. She led them to the superintendent’s office on the second floor. She held the door for them to enter and then waited outside.
General McMasters ushered Maura to a seat at the large conference table while Pontowski held a chair for Sarah. The little girl beamed at him, reveling in the courtesy. Nelson Day, the commandant of cadets and a retired Army colonel, joined them and sat next to Maura. “Well,” McMasters began, “we do have a problem here.” He turned the meeting over to Colonel Day who was responsible for cadet discipline.
Day quickly reviewed the basics. The two Rats in question were in the same squad and had taken an instant dislike to each other, mostly because Mr. Pontowski was not as well coordinated and as strong as the others and slowed the squad down. Animosity had flared and the two boys finally decided to settle their differences in a more direct fashion. The other cadets had cooperated and helped them sneak out of their rooms in Hagerman Barracks late at night. Somehow, they had gotten into the Tunnels of NMMI, which were really little more than a series of interconnected basements between the barracks and adjoining buildings.
“How did they get past the Secret Service?” Maura asked.
McMasters shifted into a bureaucratic mode. It was the way he covered his impulse to smile at what the cadets had done when he had to be the disciplinarian. “Well, the Secret Service is embarrassed.” He described the security arrangements in detail. “They were geared for intruders, not for cadets going into the Tunnels from the inside. We’ve already fixed that.”
Maura kept shifting her gaze to Pontowski. “General McMasters,” she said, reading the discussion right, “I know you’re worried about losing your most famous student, but this sounds to me like a minor ruckus between two boys who don’t know how to settle their differences peacefully. I only have one question. Can you fix it?”
“I think we can,” McMasters answered.
“They’re going to walk off at least ten demerits,” Day said. “That’s ten tours in the Box.” The Box was the quadrangle in the center of Hagerman Barracks and a tour was fifty minutes of marching back and forth.
“Shouldn’t we hear their side of the story?” Sarah asked. She gave Maura a questioning look. “That’s only fair, isn’t it?”
Maura and Pontowski nodded in agreement and the two miscreants were brought in. Brian Turner was a tall, strapping, good-looking boy who, physically, was going on eighteen. Little Matt was a frail, skinny kid who looked all of eleven. Yet both were within six months in age. Brian had a bruised eye and swollen lip. Little Matt only had a Band-Aid over his right knuckles. The commandant asked each for his side of the story and Brian went to some length justifying his actions and why he had lost the fight. He had slipped on the wet concrete floor and Little Matt had unfairly hit him in the face four or five times before he could regain his balance. Little Matt only said that he did it and the facts were correct.
“How did you get into the Tunnels?” Day asked.
“I don’t know, sir,” Little Matt answered. “The door was open.”
They had a problem. Picking a lock was a serious offense but finding the guilty party would be very hard, and did they really want to pursue it and kick some cadet out of NMMI? “General McMasters,” Pontowski said. “May I suggest you give the cadets some wiggle room on this so they can learn from their mistakes? Issue a blanket warning on how serious it is to pick a lock and fix the door.”
“I agree,” Maura said.
“It appears we’re in agreement,” McMasters said. “Colonel Day, it’s in your court.”
Day fixed the two cadets with a hard look and called in Zeth Trogger. “Mr. Turner, Mr. Pontowski, meet your new squad leader. As of now, you are roommates and are welded hip and thigh. You will do everything as a pair and you will learn to get along. Any questions?”
“Please, sir,” Brian begged, “not a girl.”
“Why?” Day asked.
Brian stammered an answer. “Ah…ah…girls can’t hack it.”
Colonel Day grew very serious and put weight in his voice. “How long have you been at NMMI, Mr. Turner?”
“Almost three weeks,” came the answer.
“Then you have a lot to learn,” Day said. “They’re all yours, Miss Trogger.”
“Outside,” Zeth ordered. Pontowski smiled. There was iron in her order. The two Rats double-timed out the door with Zeth right behind them.
McMasters stood and walked to the big windows overlooking the campus. “I think you need to see this,” he said. They all joined him at the windows. Below them, the two cadets were standing at attention while Zeth leaned into them, her face a mask as she spoke. “I imagine,” McMasters said, “that she is explaining a few facts of life to them.”
Zeth’s face was exactly thirty inches away from Brian’s nose. “We seem to have a basic difference of opinion here,” she told them, her voice low-pitched yet hard as nails. “If you’re right and girls can’t hack it, then…”