No Man's Land

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.”

“You’re welcome.”

Puller clicked off and had to smile.

His brother was on his side.

The phone call was being monitored. Robert had told Puller that by virtue of a lie only the two brothers would have known.

Robert Puller was his mother’s favorite, not John. Though she had never showed it overtly, both sons knew it was true. It had been shown in a thousand small, sometimes barely perceptible ways. Their mother had favored the studious and shy Robert over John, who more closely resembled his father in toughness and with no lack of confidence in his abilities.

And though Puller shared his mother’s sensibilities, it was also true that Jackie Puller had probably sensed that as the older son Robert Puller would be automatically judged by his father’s accomplishments. And what little boy could measure up to that? Thus, her attention had been directed to him.

Robert had told Puller that the Army would be okay with him taking some time off. So he must have known about the official leave.

But Robert had gone a step further. He had told his brother to lose himself. A seemingly innocuous statement, but John knew that Robert had been speaking quite literally. He could translate his brother’s real message effortlessly.

The shit has really hit the fan. Go underground if you’re going to tackle this sucker.

Puller could imagine that his brother had been ordered to make this call, had known that it was being listened in on, and had come up with a way to communicate his real intent to his brother, right under the noses of the listeners.

That was clear enough.

What wasn’t clear at all was everything else.