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A shadow passed over Dray’s handsome face. He, too, had recently lost his job at the CIA. They’d killed possibly the most dangerous terrorist on earth a few months back, but it hadn’t been a sanctioned mission, and Uncle Sam had sacked them both. It was a shitty deal, but those were the rules. At least neither of them had ended up in jail over the incident.
Spencer drove to a nondescript building that housed the largest intelligence unit on base and parked in a visitor’s space. It had been his decision to sacrifice his career. No use being bitter over it. And hey, he’d gained Dray out of the deal.
They went inside, and the clerk at the front desk started in recognition. “Lieutenant Newman. It’s been a while.”
“It’s Mr. Newman now. Is Penelope Walker in the office today?”
“Yes, sir. Uh, yes.”
“Can you ring her up? Let her know I’m here to see her?”
It took only a few minutes for the civilian intelligence analyst, a smoking-hot redhead in her early thirties, to come down to the lobby. She handed Spencer and Dray visitor’s passes, which they clipped to their collars, and then led them to an office barely large enough to fit her desk and two chairs.
When Spencer and Dray sat down, she asked, “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
“Did you happen to hear about a shooting in New Hampshire last night? And an Asian toddler who may be involved?”
“Oh. I thought you were here to check on Gunner Vance. He worked for you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. Number two in one of my platoons. What areyoutalking about?”
“He was put in the hospital the day before yesterday. Low altitude parachute jump went bad. He went into some trees and got banged up pretty bad. The Navy’s investigating it, but it looks like a communication breakdown. Winds went out of limits and nobody relayed that information to the jumpmaster.”
“How bad is he hurt?” Spencer asked, concerned.
Penelope winced. “The way I hear it, he messed up his back pretty seriously. The paperwork is already filed to retire him out of the SEALs.”
“That’s freaking fast. Who signed the papers?” Spencer exclaimed.
“Admiral McCarthy. He has temporarily replaced Admiral Klausen.”
“McCarthy’s not an operator. What’s he doing deciding for a SEAL when his career is over?” Spencer ground out.
Penelope shrugged. “Above my pay grade to answer that one.”
Spencer leaned forward and pinned her with a hard stare. “Gunner’s a fine operator. Even with a busted-up back, he’s the kind of guy I’d want to work with. Any chance you can pull some strings and land him a training job, or maybe a supervisory job in an ops center?”
She nodded, her expression grim. “I can put in a good word for him with a few people.”
Spencer leaned back hard. “Thanks. I owe you one.””
A short silence fell in the small office. When Spencer had regained enough cool not to put his fist through a wall, he asked her, “New Hampshire? Shooting spree? Young Asian child in the middle of it?”
“How did you hear about that?” she countered. “The shooting hasn’t hit the news yet. The blackout on journalists doesn’t lift for a few more hours.”
“Why’s there a news blackout?” Spencer asked, surprised.
“Whatever happened up there is quite a mess. FBI’s involved on it. Homeland Security shut down the news coverage and made everyone in town sign NDAs.”
“What the hell?” he blurted.
“I got a rather terse call from an assistant secretary of the Navy this morning telling me to keep my perky little nose out of it,” she added bitterly.
Spencer stared, shocked. What the hell had Gunner wandered into the middle of? “So you can’t tell me anything?”
“I didn’t say that.” She smiled archly.
“What have you got?”