Chapter 3 / Page 5

Brian’s icy tingle frosted over into a full-fledged glacier. His eyes were riveted to the words weapons expert. Oh, he had passed a test today, but not for being the annoying analyst in the back of the room. The test Brian passed was a database search, and he was still fogging the mirror. His name must have come out on top. This was not going to be handed off to an ineffective UN Weapons Inspection Team. This was going to be Uncle’s little party—a party where people usually end up dead, or missing, or both.

“I believe you’ve found your role in all of this,” smiled the NSA. He withdrew an envelope from his suit coat pocket. “You’ll find everything very much in order. The only abnormality is that this letter is actually signed by the Secretary of the Army.” The smile turned to a prankster’s smirk. “We had to get him out of bed this morning to sign it. Arthur took care of all the paperwork.”

Brian stared at the proffered letter like it was a wiggling, venomous viper. Letters from politicians in meetings like these never came to good ends. Gingerly, Brian accepted the letter.

Brian opened the envelope and stared at the letter.

“It says you’ve been reactivated as a First Lieutenant, United States Army. I hope you didn’t have any plans this evening, because as of now, you’re in the army, son.”

Brian stared open-mouthed at the NSA. Lisa Borden found it all rather amusing. It was comeuppance due for such a rude man.

“You do remember how to fire a gun?” asked the NSA.

Stillwell snapped back to reality. “Oh yes, sir. Wish I had one right now.” Arthur leaned forward and plucked the letter from Brian’s fingers.

“I’ll keep it safe for you,” explained Arthur.

“Just make sure you shred it both ways,” suggested Brian.

Arthur nodded as he stole the letter away into his suit coat pocket.

Stillwell realized what was strange about the Two Star General. He had no nametag. All officers were required to wear a nametag. The medals and chevrons looked real enough. He had the bearing of man who had been there. Blood and death were no strangers to this warrior. Yet Brian could not place a name with the face, and this nameless, faceless general sat at a table deciding his future. A future with limited possibilities.