Chapter 3: The Colonel Walks In
Boots crunched across the concrete behind the formation.
They were not hurried and not loud, and every spine on the field straightened another inch.
"Gunnery Sergeant Doyle." Colonel Hargrove, fifty-six, silver at the temples, stopped an arm's length from the little circle.
"Why is my training ground standing still?"
"Sir, there's a question about a mission report."
"There's always a question." The Colonel glanced at the photograph in Doyle's hand, then at Wes, whose face had gone gray.
"Corporal, you look unwell."
"Sir, she said I…"
"Dismiss the formation, Gunnery Sergeant."
Doyle didn't move.
"Sir, with respect…"
"That was not a request."
Doyle's jaw worked.
"Formation…
dismissed."
Twenty soldiers broke apart slowly, looking back over their shoulders.
Nobody went far.
Hargrove turned to Ellie.
His smile was warm and practiced, the smile of a man at a funeral.
"Ellie.
It's been a long time.
I heard you took the instructor contract.
I should have called."
"You should have," she said.
"Whatever you think you're holding, you signed a nondisclosure agreement six years ago.
Do you remember it?"
"Page four, paragraph nine."
"Then you know what it says about classified material."
"I know what it says about the truth, Colonel.
Nothing."
Doyle stepped between them.
"Sir, did you order her name taken off that report?"
"I approved a report that protected a mission and the people on it.
There was no inquiry.
You went home to your wife." Hargrove let that sit.
"I would hate for any of that to change."
"Is that a threat, sir?"
"A reminder."
"Colonel, I only signed what I was told…" Wes began.
"Corporal." One word.
Wes shut his mouth.
"Finish it, Wes," Ellie said quietly.
"Told by who?"
Wes stared at his boots.
His throat moved.
He said nothing.
Hargrove touched Ellie's elbow, gently, as if guiding an elderly aunt.
"Walk with me.
Just the two of us."
Doyle took a step.
Ellie shook her head once, and he stopped.
They walked twenty paces across the concrete.
When Hargrove spoke again, his voice had lost all its warmth.
"Danny is doing well in the motor pool, I hear.
Clean record.
Quiet posting."
Her stride broke.
"Don't."
"Six quiet years, Ellie.
Because we had an understanding.
You kept your voice down, and your little brother kept his boots on safe ground."
"You gave me your word."
"And I've kept it.
Until today." He studied his own fingernails.
"Thursday's rotation list reaches my desk tomorrow.
Forward post, nine months.
Paperwork is a funny thing.
It goes wherever I tell it."
Her fingers closed hard around the small metal object.
The edges bit into her palm.
Hargrove held out his hand, palm up, patient as a banker.
May you like
"Give me the drive, Ellie.
Or go and say goodbye to your brother."
