AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I loaded up the CD player with the blues mostly, but also the new Bob Dylan, which I wanted to hear at least once. I brought along a thermos of coffee as well as sandwiches for the road. I told Nana that I would try to be home that night, to which she curtly replied, “Try harder. Try more often.”
The drive gave me time to think. I needed to be sure that I was doing the right thing by going to West Point again. I asked myself a lot of tough but necessary questions. When I was satisfied with the answers, I gave some more thought to taking a job with the FBI. Director Ron Burns had done a good job showing me the kind of resources I’d have at the Bureau. The message was clear, and it was also clever: I would be better at what I did working for the FBI.
Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, though.
I knew that I could make it in private practice as a psychologist now, if that was what I really wanted. Maybe I could do a better job with the kids if I had a regular job instead of the Job. Use those marbles wisely, savor those precious Saturdays. Make a go of it with Jamilla, who was constantly in my thoughts, and should be.
Eventually, I found myself on Route 9W, following road signs for Highland Falls and West Point.
As I got close to the Point, I checked my Glock and put a clip in. I wasn’t sure I’d need a gun. Then again, I hadn’t thought I’d need one the night Owen Handler was murdered near here.
I entered West Point through the Thayer Gate at the north end of Highland Falls.
Cadets were all over the Plain parade drilling, still looking beyond reproach. Smoke curled lazily from a couple of chimneys on top of Washington Hall. I liked West Point a lot. I also admired most of the men and women I’d met in the army. But not all of them, and everybody knows what a few bad apples can do.
I pulled up in front of a redbrick building. I had come here for answers.
One name was left on my shopping list. A big name. A man beyond reproach.
General Mark Hutchinson.
The commandant of West Point.
He had avoided me the night Owen Handler had been murdered, but that wasn’t going to happen again.
Chapter 110
I CLIMBED STEEP stone steps and let myself into the well-kept building that housed the offices of the commandant of West Point. A soldier with a “high and tight” haircut was sitting behind a dark wooden desk that held a highly polished brass lamp and orderly stacks of papers and portfolios.
He looked up, cocking his head like a curious and alert grade-school student. “Yes, sir. Can I help you, sir?”
“My name is Detective Alex Cross. I believe General Hutchinson will see me. Please tell him that I’m here.”
The soldier’s head remained tilted at the curious angle. “Yes, sir, Detective. Could you tell me something about your business with the general, sir?”
“I’m afraid that I can’t. I believe the general will see me, though. He already knows who I am.” I went and sat on a stuffed chair across the room. “I’ll be right here waiting for the general.”
The soldier at the desk was clearly frustrated; he wasn’t used to civil disobedience, especially not in General Hutchinson’s office. He thought about it, then finally picked up the plain black phone on his desk and called someone further up the chain of command. I figured that was a good thing, a necessary next step.
A few minutes passed before a heavy wooden door behind his heavy wooden desk opened. An officer in uniform appeared and walked straight over to me.
“I’m Colonel Walker, the general’s adjutant. You can leave now, Detective Cross,” he said. “General Hutchinson won’t be seeing you today. You have no jurisdiction here.”
I nodded. “But I do have some important information General Hutchinson should listen to. It’s about events that took place during his command in the An Lao Valley. This was in ’sixty-seven through ’seventy-one, but in particular, ’sixty-nine.”
“I assure you, the general has no interest in meeting with you or hearing any old war stories you have to tell.”
“I have a meeting set up with the Washington Post about this particular information,” I said. “I thought the general should hear the allegations first.”
Colonel Walker nodded his head once but didn’t seem impressed or worried. “If you have someone in Washington who wants to listen to your story, you should go there with it. Now please leave the building, or I’ll have you escorted out.”
“No need to waste the manpower,” I said, and got up from the cushy armchair. “I’m good at escorting myself.”
I went outside on my own steam and walked to my car. I got in and slowly drove up the pretty main drag that cuts through West Point. I was thinking hard about what to do next. I eventually parked on a side street lined with tall maples and oaks that had a majestic view of the Hudson.
I waited there.
The general will see me.
