Parker responds over his shoulder, “I don’t know, I’ll think of that when I get there.”
A moment later, they arrive there: a sealed door that can only be opened from the inside of the lab. There is a small, rectangular, transparent window located in the middle of the door. Parker peers in and for a moment, he looks confused. His confusion quickly turns to anger and he starts pounding on the door with his fist.
A few seconds later, there is a sharp buzzing sound and the door unlocks. Parker yanks the door open and moves inside, with Augie and Anderson following behind. When all three of them are inside the lab, they look around in disbelief.
The lab is completely empty and utterly spotless. It is as if no one had been working here for the previous 18 hours. A strong smell of disinfectant hangs in the air and, amidst this sterile environment, stands Bason and Stringer.
Stringer is the first to speak, “Is there something you’re looking for, General Parker?”
She attempts to sound casual, as if the surroundings are completely normal, but Parker and company can see the cat just ate the tweety bird. Parker does not play the diplomacy game and he has no time to beat around the bush.
“For one thing,” he begins, “you can wipe that fucking smirk off your face. Where the hell is Dr. Waterston? What happened to the lab?”
“Sir, the forensic team packed up and headed back to D.C.,” Bason responds placatingly. “They said they had gathered everything they could at the scene and were returning home for additional research and analysis. They indicated that they have more tests to conduct at their base of operations.”
“I’ll bet they do. Who authorized the shutdown?” Parker demands.
“General Cozey, sir,” Bason responds. “He was initially going to wait for you to return before allowing them to leave, but he was not sure when or if you were coming back,” Bason says, his tone somewhat accusatory.
“Dr. Waterston,” Stringer adds, “said he urgently needed to return, sir. It really could not wait.”
“Where are the bodybags?” Parker asks. “Where’s all the evidence that was gathered here?”
“It has all been packaged and shipped ahead of the team, sir,” Stringer answers. “The bodybags have been transferred to the state coroner’s office, where they will conduct the DNA matching with relatives in order to identify the remains.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Parker hisses.
“Something the matter, sir?” Bason asks, attempting to mollify the general, but still managing to sound smug at the same time.
Ignoring Bason’s question, Parker casually asks, “Where is Dr. Nitchie?”
Anderson winces at the mention of the doctor’s name.
“Who?” Stringer asks, appearing confused.
“Dr. Warren Nitchie,” Parker replies. “He is part of the forensic team . . a recent addition I believe.”
Bason and Stringer glance at each other.
“Uh, sir,” Bason says, “I don’t believe there is a Dr. Nitchie on the forensic team.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Stringer adds, shaking her head.
Anderson speaks for the first time, more to vindicate himself than anything. He does not want General Parker and Lieutenant Colonel Hermann thinking he fabricated the whole story.
“He replaced a sick member of the team,” he offers. “He just found out about the assignment this morning.”
Parker and Augie momentarily stare at Anderson, and he immediately recognizes by their look that he does not have a speaking part in this play. He clamps up and focuses on the floor, while a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach suddenly forms.
They know who Nitchie is, he thinks, but they’re playing dumb and acting like they’ve never heard of him. They must have found out what he revealed to me and silenced him.
“There was no one,” Stringer asserts, “who reported ill from the forensic team. As far as we know, everyone was present and accounted for, sir.”
Parker looks for some kind of “tell” that would suggest she is lying, but he does not see one. Of course, searching for a tell typically only works if a person is unaccustomed to lying on a consistent basis. With Bason and Stringer, stretching the truth could be a full-time occupation.
“Is there anything else we can help you with, General?” Bason condescendingly asks, as if they have been extremely helpful up to this point.
Parker eyes each of them for a couple of moments, letting them wonder what he is thinking.
Finally, primarily to elicit a reaction, Parker calmly states, “Let’s start with something simple. You’re both under arrest for crimes against the United States of America.”
Parker turns to Augie and orders, “Lieutenant Colonel Hermann, place them both under arrest and read them their rights under military law.”
“Yes, sir,” Augie responds, as he starts moving towards them.
Both Bason and Stringer feign utter surprise, but when they realize Parker and Augie are serious about placing them under arrest, their masks drop. Without even trying to protest or argue, they instead draw their sidearms and point them at Parker and Augie.
Bingo, thinks Parker. Guilty as can be. Now will it be worth it?
“That’s as far as you go, Lieutenant Colonel Hermann,” Stringer warns.
Augie stops in his tracks and looks at the general, who does not even bat an eyelash.
“You both just made the biggest mistake of your lives,” Parker says menacingly. Knowing where it will hurt, Parker continues, “You have committed career suicide, and your general is going down with you.”
Despite Parker’s threat, they do not seem the least bit concerned, the arrogance clearly evident on their faces.
“I doubt that, General,” Bason remarks.
“If anything,” Stringer adds, “we will gain something here tonight.”
“With a five-star general out of the way, it looks like there will be room to move up the ladder for our general,” Bason predicts.
“You know how powerful the group is, General,” Stringer states. “They can do anything they want, and they’ve assured us that, along with General Cozey, we’ll be moving up in the world as a reward for our . . substantial risk.”
Augie casts a questioning glance in Parker’s direction, but the latter remains focused on Bason and Stringer, the anger burning fervently in his eyes.
“You don’t think anyone will miss a five-star general or his assistant?” Parker asks incredulously.
Parker motions behind him towards Private Anderson, who stands there dumbfounded, thinking of ways he can save them all. Hero scenarios dance around inside his head as he briefly and prematurely envisions himself at the medal ceremony.
“They might not miss a lowly private,” Parker says, “but I’m fairly certain the Pentagon will make some inquiries related to our . .” - Parker motions towards himself and Augie - “disappearance.”
Stringer and Bason look at one another and they exchange a sly, creepy grin. Parker does not like that look.
“There will be no disappearance, General,” Stringer states, “for any of you.”
“There will be nothing left of your bodies,” Bason indicates matter-of-factly, “amid the wreckage of your private jet due to take off from Windmill Airfield in a little less than an hour. The National Transportation Safety Board will blame the cause of the