The Escape (John Puller, #3)(5)

Puller had barely closed his eyes when his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and groaned. It was his old man. Or, more accurately, it was the hospital calling on behalf of his father.

He dropped the phone on the bed and closed his eyes once more.

Later, tomorrow, maybe the next day, he would deal with the general. But not now. Right now he just wanted some sack time.

The phone started buzzing again. It was the hospital. Again. Puller didn’t answer it and the phone finally stopping ringing.

Then it started buzzing again.

These pricks are just not going to give up.

And then his next thought was jolting. Maybe his father had … But no, the old man was too stubborn to die. He’d probably outlive both his sons.

He sat up and grabbed the phone. The number on the screen was different. It wasn’t the hospital.

It was his CO, Don White.

“Yes sir?” he answered.

“Puller, there’s a situation. Maybe you haven’t heard.”

Puller blinked and then tied his CO’s ominous statement to the calls from the hospital. His father. Was he really dead? It couldn’t be. Fighting legends didn’t die. They just… were there. Always.

His voice dry and scratchy, he said, “Heard what, sir? I just got back in town from Fort Sill. Is it my father?”

“No, it’s your brother,” said White.

“My brother?”

His brother was in the most secure military prison in the country. Now Puller’s mind turned to other possibilities involving his sibling.

“Has he been injured?” Puller didn’t know how that could be. There were no riots at the DB. But then again, one of the guards had slugged Bobby once, for a reason he had never shared with his brother.

“No. It’s a little more serious than that.”

Puller drew a quick breath. More serious than that? “Is he…is he dead?”

“No, apparently he’s escaped,” White answered.

Puller drew another quick breath as his mind tried to come to terms with this statement. But one didn’t escape from the DB. It would be like flying to the moon in a Toyota. “How?”

“No one knows how.”

“You said ‘apparently.’ Is there some confusion on the point?”

“I said ‘apparently’ because that’s what DB is saying right now. It happened last night. I can’t imagine they wouldn’t have found him by now, if he were still on the premises. DB is big, but it’s not that big.”

“Is any other prisoner missing?”

“No. But there’s something else. Equally troubling.”

“What could that be, sir?”

“That could be an unidentified man found dead in your brother’s cell.”

An exhausted Puller could barely process these words. Even with ten hours of sleep behind him he doubted he could have done much with them.

“An unidentified man? Meaning not another prisoner, guard, or other person working at the prison?”

“Correct.”

“How exactly did he escape?” asked Puller.

White said, “Storm knocked out the power and then the backup generator failed. Reinforcements from the fort were called in to make sure order was maintained. They thought everything was fine until they did the head count. One head was missing. Your brother’s. And then another head was added—the dead guy. The Army Secretary, I’m told, just about had a coronary when he was briefed.”

Puller was only half listening to this as another disturbing thought pushed into his tired mind. “Has my father been informed?”

“I didn’t call him, if that’s what you’re asking. But I can’t speak for others. I wanted you to know as soon as possible. I was just informed myself.”

“But you said it happened last night.”

“Well, DB didn’t exactly give a shout-out that they had lost a prisoner. It went through channels. You know the Army, Puller. Things take time. Whether you’re trying to storm a hill or bang out a press release, it all takes time.”

“But my father could know?”

“Yes.”

Puller was still in a daze. “Sir, I’d like to request a few days’ leave.”

“I thought you might. Consider it granted. I’m sure you want to be with your father.”

“Yes sir,” said Puller automatically. But he preferred to be involved with his brother’s dilemma. “I suppose CID is handling the case?”

“I’m not sure about that, Puller. Your brother is Air Force. Was Air Force.”

“But DB is an Army prison. No territorial fights there.”

White snorted. “This is the military. There are territorial fights over the men’s room. And considering your brother’s crime, there may be other interests and forces at play here that might trump all the usual interbranch bullshit.”

Puller knew what the man meant. “National security interests.”

“And with your brother on the loose any number of responses might be triggered.”

“He couldn’t have gotten far. DB is smack in the middle of a military installation.”

“But there’s an airport nearby. And interstate highways.”

“That would mean he’d need fake IDs. Transportation. Money. A disguise.”