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“He never said,” replied Puller.

“That was not his way. Your father was a doer, not a talker. It made being under his command a bit difficult. He demanded Herculean effort from all of us. But I will say, without reservation, that he never asked any of us to do something he had not already done himself.”

“Yes sir,” said Puller. “That was how he was wired.”

“Which brings us back to this situation and to you. For now, the Army has tabled your resignation, but you are on indefinite leave. What you do with that time is up to you.” Hall held up a warning hand. “But mark this, you will not have the authority of the Army or the CID behind you, Puller. That was the best that I could manage.”

Puller looked at him curiously. “Manage? With whom, sir?”

Hall rose from his seat.

Puller quickly stood.

“That’s all for now, Puller. And just so you know, this meeting never happened. If you mention it to anyone, well, I would suggest that you don’t.”

Hall put out his hand. They shook. “Tell your father I said hello. I know he probably won’t understand, b

ut please do so anyway.”

“I will, sir.”

“I’ve wanted to go by and see him.”

“He’d like that, sir.”

“One more thing, Puller.”

“Yes sir?”

Hall drew closer to him. “Watch all points on the compass, son. And I mean all points. You trust yourself. That’s it. No one else. No one is your friend on this one. And after tonight that probably includes me. I did this out of respect for your father. But this is where my assistance ends. Just the way it has to be. It’s going to be an uphill battle for you after this.”

“But what about my brother? Are you telling me I can’t trust him on this?”

“Good night, Puller. And good luck. I’m damn sure you’re going to need it.”

Chapter

33

THE TAHOE DROPPED Puller back at his apartment. His gun and phone were returned. He went inside and slowly sat down in a chair, his thoughts like confetti.

Puller had seen combat. He had killed and nearly been killed. He carried scars on his body earned in the defense of his country. He had worked hard to become a good investigator.

None of that had prepared him for what he was now facing.

All his life it seemed that he had been searching for something akin to the truth. And for the first time in his life it seemed that perhaps the truth didn’t matter. It was an astonishing admission, and one he never thought he would make. He had gone from sitting next to his failing father’s bedside to a quagmire that seemed to have no bottom at all.

He took out his CID cred pack and stared down at the silver eagle shield and his ID card.

For him this represented the culmination of years of sweat and blood. It represented the full force and effect of the United States Army, the greatest fighting machine the world would ever likely see.

But now?

He fingered the wings of the fierce eagle, as though hoping its touch would render all things clear.

It didn’t work.

He put his creds away and checked his M11.

He had a spare in a gun case in his bedroom. He rose and fetched it and slid it into his rear holster. He felt a bit better being fully gunned up. But only a bit.

There were not many things that unnerved John Puller.

When you’d been through hell and back, when you’d seen pretty much every way one human being could kill another, it changed you in a way that was irreversible. In some ways it made you far stronger, able to act with confidence when the need arose, no matter the level of danger. People who were not so hardened became paralyzed in such dire conditions.

And they died.

Yet it also made you weaker in some ways, because it made you less compassionate, less able to forgive. Puller knew he suffered from that, but there appeared to be little he could do about it now.

He sat back down in his chair.

What the VP had told him tonight had unnerved him.

Don’t trust anyone.

Not even the VP.

Not even his brother.

On any level it was a stunning revelation.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

His brother was calling.

He hesitated, but then decided his brother would just keep calling if he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, Bobby?” He kept his voice casual, carefree, although he was right now wound tighter than the nerves of a drill sergeant on ten Red Bulls.

“I heard,” said Robert.

“Heard what?”

“That you resigned.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“Messenger doesn’t matter. Just got one question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you insane?”

“Not the last time I checked.”

“Resigning? Striking out on your own. For what?”

“For the truth, Bobby. Don’t you think it’s important enough?”

“What I think is important is for you to rescind the letter, get back on your horse, and start following orders again.”

“Not sure I can do that.”

“The Army will forgive and forget, Junior.”

“It’s not the Army I’m worried about. And I can’t forget.”

“Well, with this you have to. I know you want to find out what happened to Mom, but it was thirty years ago. It’s an impossible mission. And you should just forget about it. Why set yourself up for failure?”

“Is that really your best advice?”

“Hey, I get it, you were Mom’s favorite. So you want to avenge her. But this is not the way to do it.”

Puller had stiffened when his brother said this. His attention became riveted instead of lackluster. “You really think so?”

“I know so. Look, I’ve given you advice in the past that turned out to be good, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is good advice too. Take it. Pull back the reins, take some time to clear your head. Hell, go on a vacation for a few days, or even a week.”

“I’m not sure the Army will let me do that,” said Puller. Did his brother know he was officially on leave with no end date?

“I think you’ll find they will. So just lose yourself for a while, Junior. Then come back recharged. You’ll see things a lot more clearly.”

“Okay, Bobby. I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. Now, don’t make me come back there and have to kick your ass, okay?”

“Okay. And, Bobby, thanks.”

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