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.”
“In other words he’d need outside help,” added White.
“You think he had that? How?”
“I have no way of knowing. But what I do know is, it’s quite a coincidence that both the main power and the backup generator failed on the same night. And how a prisoner was able to simply walk out of a max military facility, well, it makes one wonder, doesn’t it? And tack on the fact that a dead guy was in his cell? Where the hell did he come from?”
“Do they have a cause of death?”
“If they do, they haven’t shared it with me.”
“Do they think Bob—my brother killed the man?”
“I have no idea what theories they’re entertaining on that score, Puller.”
“But you think he had inside as well as outside help?”
“You’re the investigator, Puller. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. It’s not my case.”
Don White’s voice rose. “And rest assured, it will never be your case. So during your leave, you stay the hell away from this sucker. You do not need that over your head. One Puller in trouble is enough. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” said Puller. But he thought, I don’t necessarily agree with you.
Puller put the phone down and watched as his fat tabby, AWOL, glided into the room, jumped up on the bed, and rubbed her head against Puller’s arm. He stroked AWOL and then picked up the cat, holding her against his chest.
Two walls were covered with shelves. There was an old metal desk and matching chair set against the other wall. On the shelves were neatly stacked boxes. He drew closer to them, examining their labels. His memory was good, but it had been a while since he had been here—well over two years, in fact.
Robert Puller was dressed in Army fatigues and combat boots with a cap covering his head. This had allowed him to blend in well in what was clearly an Army town. But now he needed to completely change his appearance. He opened a box and pulled out a laptop. He set it down and plugged it in. After more than two years he knew the battery would be dead, but he was hoping it would still charge. If not, he w
ould have to buy a new one. He actually needed a computer more than he needed a gun.
He opened another box and took out a pair of hair clippers, a mirror, shaving cream, a towel, a gallon of water in a sealed plastic jug, a bowl, and a razor. He sat down in the metal chair and set the mirror on the desk. He plugged the clippers into an outlet on the wall and turned them on. Over the next few minutes he shaved off his hair, right down to the stubble. Then he coated his scalp with shaving cream, poured the water into the bowl, and removed the stubble with the razor, dunking the blade periodically in the bowl to clean it and then wiping it off on the towel.
He studied the results in the mirror and came away satisfied. The