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“It might turn out to be. We were talking about Whitfield?”
“Well, two years ago some money was slipped through Congress to construct a new building down there, purportedly a dormitory.”
“Purportedly?”
“Look, you didn’t hear this from me.”
“Judy, I never talked to you, okay? Now spill it.”
“In the Nineties they built a 105-room dorm to go along with a new training school. So, word around here is the new money was really for an interrogation center.”
“Interrogation? Why would that be so hush-hush?”
“Depends on who they’re interrogating and—”
Michelle finished for her. “And how they’re interrogating them.”
“Exactly.”
“Terrorists?”
“You know the NSA is probably listening to this conversation.”
“Let them. They don’t have enough personnel to sift through the real bad guys’ conversations much less people like you and me. So they’re bringing people down there that nobody knows about and maybe torturing them?”
“Officially? Absolutely not. Unofficially, who knows? It’s not like we’re going to be telling everyone that a brand-new torture chamber has opened in Tidewater, Virginia, three hours from the capital of the free world. I’m not for mistreating prisoners, but it’s a war on terror. It’s not like we can fight it the old-fashioned way.”
“Okay, how are they getting them there?”
“Along with the funds for the ‘dorm,’ money was also appropriated for a new runway that would accept larger jets.”
“Like jets capable of intercontinental travel?”
“Exactly.”
Michelle was quiet for a few moments. “The paramilitary squads still assigned to Camp Peary?”
“I can’t say.”
“Judy, come on!”
“Let me put it this way, don’t go there for a picnic, you might never be seen again.”
“I appreciate it. You’ve been a big help.”
“You’re the only reason I survived my first year with the Service.”
“Girls do have to stick together.”
“Are you working on this with Sean King?”
“Yep.”
“So are you two more than just business partners yet?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because if you’re not going after him I want a shot. He’s gorgeous.”
