What the hell?
O’Connor pulled over and Brodie and Taylor hopped out of the Humvee, then drew their weapons and walked briskly toward Klasky.
Brodie yelled, “Hands, Major!”
General Morgan looked at them, mid-sip of coffee. He slowly lowered his mug. “It’s good to see you safe, agents.”
Brodie kept his focus on Klasky, who looked at him quizzically and said, “I don’t understand.”
“Understand this.” Brodie took the cuffs off his belt and cuffed the major’s hands in front of him. “You are under arrest for homicide andattempted homicide. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney—”
“Mr. Brodie,” said General Morgan. “I demand to know what is going on.”
Brodie said, “Let me finish my Article Thirty-One script, General, or we’re going to have a problem with the lawyers later.”
“You’re going to have a problem a lot earlier than that, Brodie. You aided an attempted mutiny, made an unlawful arrest, and absconded in the night with one of my Rangers, who was returned to us with his brain melting out of his ears.” He gestured to Major Klasky. “The major here tells me he assisted you in the lab with reviewing evidence, then left you alone at your request, and now I just heard there is a D-17 on the loose.”
Taylor stared with near-murderous rage at Klasky. “Youactivated that thing, because you knew what we had, and you knew it would incriminate you. You tried to kill us, you son of a bitch.”
Klasky shook his head. “This is crazy.”
Taylor added, “And you locked us in the goddamn lab.”
“You’re delusional.” He looked at Brodie. “Both of you.” Then something seemed to dawn on him. “Did you do drugs with Greer? Are you high right now?”
Taylor glared at him. “You locked us in. We didn’t crawl out a window for fun, Major.”
Klasky shook his head. “You’re both paranoid. That’s a sixty-year-old building with a retrofitted electronic lock, sometimes it sticks.”
Brodie said, “You’re quick on your feet, but not quick enough.” He grabbed Klasky’s arm and dragged him into the road.
Morgan called out, “Mr. Brodie!”
“I’m talking to my perp in private, General. If you want to arrest me and let this piece of shit go, you’ll answer for that later.”
Morgan did not respond. Taylor got ahead of Brodie and Klasky and unlocked the door to their house across the street.
Brodie led the guy into the living room, then threw him onto the couch.
Klasky landed face-first, then spun around and spat, “You can’t do this!”
“How about this?” Brodie swung the butt of his pistol into the side of the major’s head, sending him sprawling onto his side.
Klasky slowly sat back up, wincing as blood ran out of a gash above his temple. He locked his eyes on Brodie and said nothing.
“You’re going to tell us everything. What Praetorian is, who is responsible for writing and surreptitiously installing it, and who manipulated Bucky to kill Major Ames and Specialist Kemp. Was it you? You certainly have the capacity.”
Klasky sneered at him. “Fuck you, Brodie. You have no clue what you’re into.”
“Give me a clue.”
Klasky stared at him but said nothing.
Brodie loomed over him. “You’re facing two homicides, two attempted homicides, and one-leg Lenny might be just getting started.”
Klasky looked down and laughed bitterly. He said in a low voice, “I’m dead either way.”
“Speak up, Major.”
