No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(29)

I shook my head in frustration and said, “Okay, damn it. Where is the Fusion Cell?”

“You see that golden dragon? Just walk around to the right . . .”

He continued blathering on and I continued to get aggravated. Eventually, I just waved the cab forward, told Jennifer I’d be right back, and started walking at a pace that I hoped would let off the anger.

The post ended up being very, very small. Originally full of ICBM silos, it had been dedicated entirely to nuclear counterforce strikes during the Cold War, but now it was a collection of intelligence fusion cells for NATO and the newly minted Africa Command, or AFRICOM. There were no barracks or commissaries. Just a select few buildings that did top secret intelligence activities. It didn’t take long to find the NATO cell. All I had to look for were the flags of all the member countries flying in the breeze.

A squat, four-story building with few windows, painted a dull yellow—or maybe white that had faded—it had a fence surrounding its compound with a turnstile not unlike ones you see at amusement parks or New York City subways. A seven-foot thing with multiple rotating bars to prevent entry. Next to it was a phone. Being unannounced, and knowing I was on camera, I picked it up.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m looking for Tech Sergeant Nicholas Seacrest.”

“And you are?”

“Nephilim Logan. Retired sergeant major, US Army.”

“Purpose of your visit?”

“I have some questions for him regarding a missing female.”

With the enormous scandals going on with sexual assaults in the Department of Defense, I hoped mentioning the word female would cause the gates to open. Everyone was so afraid of being accused of not cracking down on anything smacking of sexual harassment, I figured I’d get in just so they could see my face. Instead, I heard, “Do you know the office?”

“No. He’s a weatherman in the US Air Force. I need to talk to him.”

“Stand by.”

I waited for a good ten minutes, then saw an entourage headed my way, which made me wonder if they’d had a few sexual assault problems with this Nicholas Seacrest in the past. There were four people, two Air Force and two Army. As they got closer, I saw the lowest rank was a major.

What the hell?

They reached the gate and a bird colonel named Fairchild did the talking.

“Who are you?”

“I told the desk, I’m Sergeant Major Nephilim Logan. I’m here to see a Nicholas Seacrest.”

“Why do you want to see him?”

“He was the last known person with a female who’s come up missing. I’m trying to locate her.”

“Well, he can’t talk. Sorry. He had nothing to do with any female.”

“How would you know? You haven’t even asked her name. Do you know all of the comings and goings of the men here?”

“Sergeant Major, he had nothing to do with any female. Period. He’s on a classified assignment.”

“Come on, sir. I’m not a New York Times reporter. I’ve got top secret clearance. Stop the bullshit. I just want to talk to him. I’ll find him here or at his barracks.”

“You won’t find him at all. He’s on leave. He went back to the United States for thirty days.”

“I thought he was on a classified assignment?”

I got a blank stare.

I asked, “When did he fly?”

“That’s classified.”

The answer tripped a trigger he didn’t want to see. I slapped the bars, causing them to jump back. I shouted, “Are you shitting me? Open this f*cking gate. Right now.”

Colonel Fairchild’s face went from amazement to anger at the outburst. He said, “Sergeant Major, I don’t know where you’ve worked in the past, but I will not tolerate such behavior. You will leave here right now, or I will call base security. Tech Sergeant Seacrest is on leave. Period.”

I stared at him for a moment, wanting to rip his throat out. I looked at the men to his left and right, then turned away without another word.

By the time I reached the cab I was in a fine mood. I told the driver to hang on a minute, then pulled out my phone, moving out of earshot of the cabbie. Jennifer exited the car and asked what had happened. I said, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

She said, “What’s that mean?”

I dialed and said, “It means we need some help.”

I waited for the connection, fuming, and Jennifer said nothing more, knowing she’d get the answer from my call. After a few seconds, I got Kurt on the phone, his voice sounding tinny from the encryption.

“Tell me you found her.”

“No, sir, I haven’t. But I will with a couple of requests.”

“What? What do you have?”

“First, I need all surveillance video from a place called the Eagle here in Cambridge. It’s held on a server for a company called Sentinel in London.”

I heard nothing, then, “You want me to hack it?”

I knew what was going through his head. I was telling him to use US assets to penetrate a foreign company for personal business. He wasn’t asking because he was unsure of my request. He was running the ramifications through his head. Deciding how far he would go to save his niece. Deciding where his boundaries lay. As the commander of the Taskforce, he had the capability. Now it was only a question of whether he would use it.