NINE
After coffee in the room the following morning, they headed back to the base, pulling into a McDonald’s drive-through for a Sausage McMuffin with Egg on the way.
Jessie had noticed that Bran’s personal clock ran a few minutes early, which put them ahead of schedule for their ten o’clock appointment with Brigadier General Samuel Holloway, US Army director of Chemical Materials Activity, her father’s direct superior.
After a brief wait, his assistant, a young soldier with a slender build and wheat-blond hair, led them down the hall to his office, which was pretty much standard military, with framed commendations on the wall and family photos on the desk.
General Holloway rose from the chair behind his desk. He was around five-ten, with graying brown hair, very straight posture, and a severe expression. Jessie had read all about him, fifty-six years old, highly decorated, married, with two grown children who each had two kids of their own. He’d been in charge of both US chemical storage depots, Colorado and Kentucky, for the past four years.
“Ms. Kegan. Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.” He turned to Bran. “Captain Garrett, I assume you’re here unofficially, as Ms. Kegan’s companion.”
“Actually, I’m here as Ms. Kegan’s bodyguard. So far there have been two failed attempts on her life.”
The general’s gray-brown eyebrows drew down in a frown. He studied the bruise on Brandon’s cheek and the cut next to his lower lip. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“We believe the attempts have something to do with Colonel Kegan’s death,” Bran said.
“That’s right, General,” Jessie added. “Finding the truth about what happened to my father is the reason we’re here.”
Holloway rounded his desk, giving himself a moment to consider the information. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s the problem, General,” Bran said as they sat down in the visitor chairs across from his desk . “We don’t know what’s going on.”
“We’re hoping you can help us figure it out,” Jessie added.
Seated once more, the general’s gaze swung to her. “Do you mind if I call you Jessie? Through your father, I feel as if we’ve already met.”
“I would prefer it, General.”
“I must tell you, Jessie, the CID began an investigation as soon as the theft of the munitions was reported. Everything they came up with pointed to your father as the man behind the crime.”
“What about after he died?” she asked. “Has the CID continued to investigate?”
“We need to know who else was involved, so yes, the investigation is ongoing. Unfortunately, so far very little new information has turned up.”
“How were the weapons stolen?” Bran asked. “I mean, physically moved off-site.”
The general’s cool blue gaze didn’t waver. “I’m afraid that’s classified information, Captain.”
“So whatcanyou tell us, General?” Jessie asked.
Holloway leaned back in his chair. “I can give you a little basic information you might not know. The fact is, chemical weapons were never actually used by the United States. But they were stockpiled after World War II at a number of bases. In 1985, Congress ordered the destruction of all the aging munitions.”
“I’m aware,” Bran said.
“The Alamo facility was built to eliminate the weapons stored in underground bunkers on the site. When the project is completed, the depot will be closed.”
“In the meantime, however,” Bran said, “someone was able to gain access and steal an unknown quantity of those weapons—an amount, I’m guessing, that is not a number you would like known to the public.”
The general’s features tightened.
Bran leaned toward him. “The army needs to find out where those munitions have been taken and recover them. We need to prove Colonel Kegan was not involved in the crime. I suggest we work together to our mutual benefit. What do you say, General?”
Holloway’s lips thinned. Clearly he didn’t like being pressed. “Knowing you would be here today, Captain, I took a look at your service record. I know you were Delta, that you were in Afghanistan and God knows how many other places around the globe. You have an impressive list of commendations and medals that rival the best of our soldiers. Before you were injured and left the army, you were clearly a valuable asset to your country.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Here’s what I can tell you. The munitions are normally transported by truck from the bunkers they’re stored in to the destruction facility. In this case, the truck carrying the weapons was diverted, plundered, then put back into service. Its payload was missing and not discovered until several weeks later. That’s all I can tell you.”
