Chapter 8

Jhon left Abraham’s lab feeling more irritated than usual. Not only did Abraham not know where Annabeth had gone, he was still tinkering with Annabeth’s electric shaver idea.

It’s a good idea--a great idea if I’m honest--but it’s not something they should be doing on my dime.

He walked toward the back of the building to check the parking lot again and ran into her as they rounded the corner at the same moment.

“Excuse me,” Jhon said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I had an errand to run,” Annabeth said.

“For an hour?”

“For an hour and a half. You just didn’t notice until an hour ago.”

“Why isn’t your appointment on the status board?” Jhon asked.

“It came up suddenly, and I forgot to write it down. I’m sorry.” She paused for a moment. “You seem agitated, what happened?”

“We had another heat pipe disappear off the market. A big one this time, it sold for ten million.” He turned and headed toward the parking lot behind the building. “Walk with me.”

“Do I have time to change?”

“No. We’re going to be late as it is.”

“I’d really like to change,” Annabeth said.

Jhon shot her an annoyed look. “We don’t have time. Walk faster.”

“Fine. I’ll go like this, but I don’t want to hear a word about my professionalism.”

“Not a word,” Jhon said.

“Ten million,” Annabeth said, “that is a big one. Do we know where it came from?”

“No, but Jacob’s team traced the purchase to a trading company called Gravitas.”

“Gravitas? That’s silly. Sounds like a military code name,” Annabeth said.

“Funny you should say that; Samuel Archibald owns the company.” They exited the building and walked toward the car.

“That name sounds familiar,” Annabeth said.

“He is the commander of Fort Battering Army Air Base, where most of our strategic bombers are housed, and where I went with Archbishop Sabin.”

Annabeth frowned at him. “Why does an Army Air Force general need a trading company, and why are they buying a very expensive tahlis? And how did a man on a general’s salary get ten million?”

“Those are excellent questions. I have a meeting with General Farland to see if he has any of the answers.”

They arrived at the car and Annabeth opened the door for him, then went around and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Who is General Farland?”

“He is the chairman of Central Command,” Jhon said. “One of the most powerful men in the country--”

“You say that like I should already know,” Annabeth shot him a glare in the rearview mirror.

“You should know.” Jhon said. “You should know who the prime minister is, which MP represents your district, the mayor, probably chief of police…you know important people.”

“Why waste time learning about people who will only be in office for a couple of years, and who I will never meet?” Annabeth asked.

“And yet we are going to meet one of them right now,” Jhon said. “Can you drive faster?”

Annabeth stepped on the gas.

* * *

Two more of Jhon’s hairs turned gray during the drive as Annabeth ran lights and swerved through traffic. A police siren even started up behind them at one point, but Annabeth outran the patrol car by using the sidewalk as a passing lane.

How the hell can she drive like this and never get into an accident?

They arrived at Central Command a few minutes before their meeting was scheduled. Jhon forgot he was the director and opened the door for Annabeth. She walked inside, and right over a heating grate. Her skirt promptly blew up around her, exposing a pair of bare cheeks.

A marine guard whistled, and Annabeth pirouetted into the room, walked over to him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, soldier.”

“No, ma’am, thank you.”

Another marine whistled, and Annabeth turned and frowned at him. “Really? If you meant it, you’d have whistled spontaneously, like he did.” Then she turned her back on him and walked to the counter.

She’s not even blushing. I guess that means I have to do it.

Jhon walked to the counter and joined her. He didn’t blush very often, but at this moment he was exceptionally grateful for his dark skin.

He showed his ID and told the sergeant at the desk about his meeting. The sergeant made a very professional sounding call to Farland’s office to verify the meeting, but he never took his eyes off Annabeth.

You keep looking at her like that and I’ll start a civil war in here.

“So, is there a Mrs. Sergeant?” Annabeth asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, without a hint of shame.

“Kids?”

“Three girls.”

“That’s great,” Annabeth said. “I bet you’re a tough dad. Are any of them old enough to date yet?”

“Almost,” he winced. “I’m really not looking forward to it. At all.”

“Yeah. Dad’s always have to be the bad guy,” Annabeth said. “Mine never let me get into half the trouble I wanted to get into.”

Holy hell. She drank, she smoked, she ran away from home, she had boys over. She crippled a cheerleader, and when I got her into a new school, she crippled the coach. She ran through a school assembly buck naked. And she tells this clown I didn’t let her get into as much trouble as she wanted.

The sergeant finally had the grace to blush. “Good for him.”

Jhon breathed a sigh of relief when the general’s aide stepped out of the elevators and approached them.

“Officer on deck,” said the desk sergeant. The marines at the doors went to attention.

“As you were,” said the aide. His name tag said Roman, and he had a single star on the shoulder of his uniform.

“Director Bonga?”

“Yes, general,” Jhon said, “pleasure to meet you.”

“Come with me, sir,” Roman said. “The lady will need to wait here.”

Jhon felt the mood in the room brighten.

Oh hell no. I’m not leaving a wolf here with these coyotes. They think they’re predators, and this isn’t the time to teach them otherwise.

“This is Agent Toy. She goes where I go.”

Roman looked Annabeth up and down. “ID, please, ma’am.”

Annabeth presented her ID.

“Very good,” Roman said. “Please accompany me.”

They boarded a large elevator and Roman pressed the button for the top floor.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Are you General Farland’s aide?” Annabeth asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I didn’t know generals were aides to other generals,” she said.

Roman nodded. “It surprises a lot of people, but it’s very common for a new general officer to serve as an aide to a senior general. It gives us an opportunity to see how the job is done from inside the office, so to speak.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds like a very good idea,” Annabeth said.

This is very interesting. Usually, I get comments about my bullshit agency, and at least some overt racism. We haven’t had a hint of that so far today. Is that something about the culture at this office, or are they too distracted by Annabeth to be their normal selves?

The elevator opened to a surprisingly plain suite of offices. General Farland’s office was directly across the hall. Roman took them inside and asked them to wait while he went to the inner door and knocked. Then he opened the door and put his head inside, spoke for a moment, and turned back to Jhon and Annabeth.

“The general will see you now.” He stood to the side and motioned them past.

“Thank you, General Roman,” Jhon said.

They went inside and General Farland motioned them to chairs in front of his desk. Roman entered behind them and closed the door.

The Chairman of Central Command was average height, barrel chested, with steel gray hair and eyes.

“Director, Agent,” Farland nodded to each of them. “What is this meeting about?”

“There was a heat pipe--a kind of tahlis that moves heat from one thing to another--for sale on the gray market,” Jhon said. “We bid for it, but the sale went to a company called Gravitas. General Samuel Archibald owns all of the shares of Gravitas. They paid ten million for the artifact.”

Farland straightened and frowned. “Sam Archibald bought an ancient artifact for ten million?”

“That is correct, sir. I was hoping you could tell me more about it. If this is an officially sanctioned program, then I am very happy to work with Central. For example, my agency does not have adequate storage for dangerous items yet. If you have such a program already, a partnership seems far more efficient than me trying to duplicate your efforts.”

Farland glanced at Roman, who spoke. “The navy has a limited program, but when legislation changed and parliament created your agency that program was suspended, pending decisions on whether or how it would continue. The Army Air Force does not have such a program.”

Archibald asked to start one, and they told him no.

“Director, I assume that since you are here, your intelligence is solid?” Farland asked.

“Yes, sir, it is,” Jhon said. “We have a great many unknowns still to investigate, but the information I have given you is accurate.”

“Sir,” Roman said, “does General Archibald come from money? If this is a private enterprise, that would be far less damning than an off-the-books program at Fort Battering.”

“He comes from dirt farmers, like me,” Farland said. “If he has money, it didn’t come from an inheritance.”

“There is also a reported nephilim on base, a Major Heyerdahl,” Jhon said.

Farland raised an eyebrow. “Like a half-demon half-human creature?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What does ‘reported’ mean?”

“It means that I traveled to Fort Battering with Archbishop Sabin and his team to investigate, but General Archibald showed us a big human in Heyerdahl’s uniform.”

Farland steepled his fingers. “I’m going to need more than that. It’s not the military’s job to lend credence to every fairy tale we hear.”

Jhon nodded. “That is the consensus these days. If you’re looking for something more concrete, I suggest looking into the records of Chun, or Kang. I believe Kang is a cover name for Chun. The part I can prove is the melted tank in front of the Fort Battering headquarters building.”

Farland leaned forward. “Melted tank?”

“Yes, sir. Melted. You may have to look for it. When I was there, they had it hidden under a canvas cover. It’s probably been moved somewhere people can’t just walk up and examine it by now.”

“I will look into that, Director. What else do you have?”

“Our investigation is just beginning, sir,” Jhon said. “There is still a great deal we do not know. I will send you reports as we learn more.”

Farland nodded. “Thank you for that offer, Director Bonga. I know you didn’t have to make it. I spend too much of my time trying to resolve disputes between the services. If we can work together in relative peace, I would welcome it.”

“You have my word, sir,” Jhon said. “We got this information yesterday and this morning. I will try to be just as timely with any other discoveries we make, at least the ones that are relevant to the military. Is there a chance that you might provide me with a detailed map of Fort Battering, sir?”

Farland walked around his desk and shook Jhon’s hand. “Thank you, Director. I will send a memo to the commanders of each branch instructing them to cooperate with the Bureau, and Roman will help you get your map.”

Jhon smiled back. “Yes, sir. Thank you for your time.”

“You are welcome, Director Bonga.” He turned to Annabeth. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Agent Toy. You must have given the entry guards a heart attack.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jhon muttered.

* * *

Once they were back in the car Jhon broached his major concern for the day.

“What happened to your uniform, Agent Toy?”

“I had personal business, and then did not have time to change when I returned to the office,” Annabeth said.

“What kind of personal business requires you to go out with no unders?” Jhon asked. “No, don’t answer that, it’s none of my business.”

“I wanted to feel sexy,” Annabeth said.

“Since when do you need to run around with no unders to feel sexy?” Jhon asked.

“I don’t know,” Annabeth said. “Why do you wear boxing gloves when you watch the fights?”

“You know what?” Jhon asked. “I want to pretend I never asked.”

“Okay. But I’ll tell you if you want to know.”

“I do not want to know.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.”