The Escape (John Puller, #3)(57)

“That one I’d worked out for myself.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“People shouldn’t do a lot of things.”

“I came here not just because of your case notes but because of something else.”

“What?” he asked.

“We traced a series of deposits totaling one million dollars into an account in the Caymans that Captain Macri had set up about a month ago.”

“Her payoff for doing what she did?”

Knox nodded.

“Where did the money come from?”

“Untraceable, even by us. We were fortunate to pick it up on her end, but the origin remains a mystery.”

“How did you get on to her?”

“INSCOM had been getting chatter, nothing definite, but certainly strange, that made them start to focus on DB. We did a personnel rundown. A few people raised enough concerns to warrant markers being placed on them. Macri was one of them.”

“What concerns? I found nothing unusual in her record.”

“She was single, no family in the area, and she was ambitious.”

“So are lots of military folks.”

“And she had considerable personal debt.”

“She was an officer. The Army paid for her ride at West Point.”

“She also dabbled in the stock market. Options on margin accounts. She was in the hole for about eighty thousand dollars. Her payoff would have taken care of that debt and left her a lot of extra to get back on her feet.”

“None of that was in her record.”

“No, it wasn’t. What she does with her personal finances is not really the Army’s business. And the amounts she owed hadn’t been called yet.”

“But you guys found out about it.”

“Yes,” replied Knox.

Puller frowned. “So why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I’m telling you now even though it’ll probably cost me my job if my superiors find out.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair and exhaled a long breath. “We came up through different tracks, Puller. I was bred from day one for clandestine service. That means we trust no one outside our circle and keeping a secret and outright lying are part of the job description. Just as you’re trained to investigate a crime scene, I’m trained to deflect and deceive. I’ve spent years honing those skills, and if they knew I was telling you this, well, I’m not sure what they’d do to me.”

Puller relaxed a bit. “So why are you telling me?”

She laughed, but it died halfway out of her throat and she quickly turned somber. “Because your honesty and, well, this damn nobleness about you, shamed me. I just felt ashamed having to string you along. It was humbling, frankly. When I thought I was well past that emotion. Along with a lot of others,” she added, her voice growing very soft.

“So where does that leave us?” asked Puller quietly after a lengthy pause.

“With me asking for a second chance, or what is it now, a third chance with you? And even if you give me one I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me this time.”

He glanced down at her hip. “That scar is real enough and the wound underneath. You were limping when you walked in here and I saw you wince when you sat down.” He glanced at the other room. “When you fell to the floor to avoid getting shot, I guess you landed right on that hip. Probably hurts like a bitch.”

“Yes, it does,” admitted Knox. “More than a bitch, actually. I’d kill for a Percocet right now.”

“So is the 902d Intelligence Group at Leavenworth under the NSA’s thumb?”

“The NSA is pretty much everywhere, Puller. And the 902d is no exception.”

He nodded. “I appreciate how hard that must have been for you to say.”

“Training is training,” she replied. “But I still have a bit of free will left and I mean to exercise it.”

“Okay. It’s a start.”

Puller’s phone rang. It was Shireen Kirk.

“Hello, Shireen. Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’m a little tied up.”

She said, “No, you can’t call me back. Where are you?”

“Leavenworth.”

“So am I.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just landed and I’m in a cab heading out to find you.”

“What the hell are you doing in Kansas?”

“I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. Can we meet somewhere?”

Puller glanced at Knox, who was watching him closely.

“Yeah, there’s a diner.” He gave her the address. “I’ve got an agent from INSCOM with me. I’d like her to get read in too.”

“I’d rather just talk to you, Puller.”

“It’s going to have to be the both of us, Shireen. I trust her and you can too.”

“I’ll be there in thirty,” Kirk said gruffly and clicked off.

“Who was that?”

“Shireen Kirk. My JAG contact.”

“Where did she come in from?”

“D.C.”

“Why come all the way out here?”

“She wanted to do a face-to-face. It must be important.”