A/N: I know we're all upset that Booth is stranded in Pakistan. Trust me, he won't be stuck for too much longer, but first the good guys have to figure out exactly where he is...I know it's hard to be patient when we care about our characters, but things will work out. Laura
Brennan spent the next few days trying to keep herself occupied, confident that she could sufficiently compartmentalize her emotions as she put the finishing touches on her manuscript and prepared to return to work at the Jeffersonian after the Christmas holidays. Much to her growing irritation, however, as she found herself more and more focused on her worry over Booth's safety, she'd also found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else for more than a few minutes at a time, and sleep had become elusive. As illogical as it seemed to her normally well ordered mind, time was apparently passing at an agonizingly slow pace as she waited for any further news about who had died in that helicopter crash in Pakistan.
As she thought over the timeline for the recovery operation, she'd estimated that several hours had passed after radio contact was lost with the helicopter, as the Army tried to determine whether or not it had actually been destroyed. Even after the downing of the aircraft had been confirmed, there would still be several more hours of work to be done by various agencies of the US government before anything else could happen. In order to be able to mount a recovery operation for the copter, some sort of believable story would need to be constructed as to the reason it was flying over Pakistan's airspace in the first place. Then, after the Army had informed the Pakistani government about the suspected loss of a military aircraft within their borders, it would take that government's officials at least two days, and probably more, to locate the helicopter crash site in the remote foothills of the tribal lands, a day or two more to investigate the wreckage and to remove the bodies, and then another day to move the bodies to a city where the remains could be processed and arrangements made for their return to the American base in Bagram. It didn't help matters that the timeline was dependent on the tentative cooperation between two governmental entities that didn't always see eye to eye, as well as any local officials in the tribal areas that would need to be notified about the possible incursions into their territory. All of those factors taken together meant it would take at least a week until a positive ID was made on the casualties...at least a week, and most likely more, without knowing if Booth was still alive or if he was dead.
Too restless to stay home and contemplate all the dreadful possibilities, Brennan decided to go for a long drive in order to clear her head, but before she realized what was happening she found herself on the street where Booth's apartment was located. Feeling slightly awkward, she parked in front of the liquor store and took the stairs up to his home.
As soon as she entered the front door she was awash in memories triggered by the faint traces of his distinctive scent which still remained in the rooms. Aimlessly wandering through the apartment, she stopped suddenly, disconcerted when she saw an envelope propped up on his kitchen table.
To:Temperance Brennan
To be opened in the event of my death.
Seeley Booth
She turned the envelope over and ran her fingers across the flap, tempted to open it, but it seemed to her that if she did, it would be like admitting that Booth was actually dead. Scolding herself for succumbing to such silly superstition, she gingerly set it back on the table and shook her head. She wouldn't open it today...she wouldn't open it unless she knew for sure that he hadn't survived the crash.
She went into the living room and sat down on the couch, fondly remembering the last time she'd been there. She'd gone to Rigoletto's with Booth and Parker, and Booth had officially asked her to be his girlfriend. She had been confused by his request at first, that romantic connection between them having already been established, but she soon realized it was a pleasant ruse designed to make his son happy. After taking Parker home, they'd come back to his apartment and watched some old romantic movie before going to bed to make love for hours. It had been such a pleasant evening, but now it seemed like it was years ago. The thought that she might never again be able to have that sort of ordinary domesticity with Booth was overwhelming. She didn't want to grieve a loss she wasn't certain of, but the tears began to roll down her cheek before she could stop them.
She'd experienced this feeling once before, when she'd been told that Booth had died after being shot at that nightclub several years ago. The same numbness was drowning her...the shock, the horror, the disbelief. Clenching her jaw, she tamped down those feelings, refusing to give in to them. She had no proof that he had died, and without proof, she had to allow herself to hope, or she'd sink beneath the weight of her own uncertainty. She had to be strong. Straightening her shoulders, she brushed away her tears. Crying wouldn't help anything right now. No matter what occurred, she would be strong, just like always...because that's what Booth would expect her to do. He'd often said that he wanted her to move on if something happened to him, but she hoped she wouldn't be put in the position of making that decision.
Yawning as she leaned back against the soft upholstery, she quickly became drowsy, so she stretched out on the cushions, hoping to finally get some sleep. Soon she'd drifted off, dreaming about the man she loved.
oooooooooo
Captain Jarvis was busy helping the newly arrived chaplain move into his office. "Where do you want me to put this box, Father Koralek?" Wiping her hand across her perspiring brow, she smiled warmly at him. "I can't tell you how glad...and how relieved...I am that we finally have a Roman Catholic chaplain here on the base, Greg. I've been trying to fill in as best I can, but nothing beats the real deal."
"Glad I can be of service." The young priest smiled back as he pointed to the corner of his tiny office. "You can put that carton over there. It's just books." Taking the lid from a large plastic container on his desk, he removed his embroidered stole and the box holding his traveling altar and communion kit. "This is the most important part of my stuff. I'll be ready to celebrate Mass for the camp tomorrow afternoon. I'll send out an all base email later today inviting everybody..."
He paused as his companion answered her phone. "Captain Jarvis…"
"This is Corporal Rizzo, ma'am, over at the mortuary hut. The casualties from that chopper crash last week were finally released by the Pakistanis and they've arrived here at the morgue." The soldier cleared his throat, sighing softly as he continued. "As you know, ma'am, it was CWO Perkins and Tech Sergeant Mulhall flying the bird, and because they were listed on the flight plan as the guys assigned to that detail, we were able to establish without a doubt that they were both killed in that accident. Problem is, ma'am, we have another body here, and his dog tags say he's a Roman Catholic." Rizzo cleared his throat and paused slightly. "You said we were getting a new Catholic chaplain this week, Captain, so if he's here already, maybe he can come over here to say some prayers for Sergeant Major Booth..."
"Sergeant Major Booth? Oh, my God." Captain Jarvis felt like she might vomit as her stomach lurched violently. Inhaling deeply as she felt her knees go weak, she tried to calm herself, gripping the back of a chair tightly as she continued. "Yes, um...the new chaplain just got here. We'll be over there as soon as we can." Ending the call, she shoved her phone in her pocket, hoping to control her emotions as she spoke to her new coworker. Exhaling slowly, she bit her trembling lip, choking back her sobs. "They need us at the mortuary building, Father...one of the casualties that came in from Pakistan this morning was Catholic...and the attendant thought...you might want...to know...so you could...pray for him..."
"Of course." Gathering up the necessary items, the priest was grim as he watched Captain Jarvis try to blink back her tears. "I take it you knew the man…"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. He came to the office a week or so ago to make his confession before he left on what he said was a dangerous mission, but Father LeMont had already left for Germany." Jarvis wiped her eyes with a tissue. "The guy made a real impression on me, you know? He was so worried about doing the right thing...so worried about the state of his soul. He had some real misgivings about the mission he was going on, and with good reason, it seems." Jarvis sniffled as she ran the back of her hand across her eyes. "I did the best I could, Greg, listening to what Booth had to say and praying with him...you know, all the basic chaplain jazz, but as an Episcopal priest, I couldn't give him the same absolution that the Catholic Church gives. I couldn't give him that comfort…and now he's gone. Oh, Sweet Jesus...", she sobbed. "He was such a fine man, Greg…he was so...brave...so...strong in his faith..."
"Oh, Sally…I'm sorry.", the priest began softly as he rubbed her shoulder gently to console her. "I know you did the right thing for him...praying with him...sharing the love of God and His forgiveness with the man. No worries, okay? I'm sure the Lord is looking after your Sergeant Major…" He held the door open for her. "Let's go pray for him, alright?"
They took a jeep across the compound, driving along silently until they reached the building that housed the mortuary services. Knocking on the door, they were greeted by Corporal Rizzo. After offering the officers a salute, the young man nodded sadly. "Right this way, ma'am...Father." He led them down a narrow hall toward an examination room. Pushing the door open, he glanced at the chaplains. "He's in here. It's bad, you know, since there was an explosion and a real hot fire with the crash. I'm sorry…" Rizzo's voice faded away as he pointed to the sheet covered remains, which were laid out on a stainless steel table. "Here's his dog tags..."
Father Koralek kissed the cross on the back of his stole before he placed it around his neck, and then he took a vial of holy water from his kit. Turning to Rizzo, he pointed at the remains. "Pull back the sheet, Corporal, so I can pray for this man."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Father…" Rizzo grimaced as he stood next to the table, blocking the priest's way. "It's pretty gruesome. The body was fragmented and badly burned in the crash. Trust me...it's nothing you need to see..."
"Since when do you think it's a good idea to question the direct order from a superior officer?" Captain Jarvis stepped up to the table and glared at the young man. "Father Koralek holds the rank of captain, just like I do, Corporal. Do as the chaplain says, Rizzo. Remove that drape."
Captain Koralek nodded solemnly as he moved toward the body. "Listen, Corporal Rizzo, I know you're trying to protect me, but it isn't necessary. I was a chaplain at a busy hospital in the worst part of Chicago before I enlisted in the Army. All sorts of horrible injuries came through that ER...car accidents, fires, drug overdoses, beatings, gunshot wounds...some of the worst stuff you can imagine, so I can handle it, okay? This man's remains need to be treated with respect, no matter how damaged they are…and I'm gonna pray for him whether you like it or not, so do as I say...now!"
Sighing audibly, the attendant turned toward the table. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you, Father." Rizzo pulled the sheet away from the charred remains and after rolling it up, he put in on a nearby counter. "There was a lot of trauma to this body…it looks like all that's left here is mostly just bits of flesh stuck to some of the bones. We laid out the skeleton as best we could from what was left of him...the goddamn Pakistanis had him all jumbled up in the body bag they'd used to transport him. I'm not even sure we got all of him back, you know?"
Moving to anoint the remains without so much as batting an eye, Father Koralek blessed himself with the sign of the cross and began to pray for the repose of the decedent's soul. Captain Jarvis tried to bow in prayer as well, but, distracted by the remains, she clenched her jaw nervously as she studied the battered corpse laid out before her.
"Something's not right here, Corporal." She stepped closer to the table and bent down to inspect the remains. "This table's about seven feet long, right?" Seeing Rizzo nod in cautious agreement, she continued. "This body is way too small to be Booth. Booth is over six feet tall and muscular. I'd say this man was 5'7'' at the most when he was alive, and his skeleton isn't robust enough to support Booth's muscle mass."
"But the dog tags, ma'am...they clearly identify this man as Sergeant Major Seeley Booth…", Rizzo stammered. "It's gotta be him…and, like I said, the body was heavily damaged in the crash and then it was just dumped in a bag for transport. This guy was practically torn in half by the helicopter's impact. Anyway, how can you judge his height from what's left..."
"See this femur here? That's how I know. I was an orthopedist's surgical nurse for six years before I went to seminary, Corporal. I know what I'm talking about." Captain Jarvis stood with her hands on her hips as she glared at the mortuary attendant. "Listen here...I don't give a damn what those fucking dog tags say, Rizzo. I'm not at all convinced this body is actually that of Sergeant Major Booth. You get Booth's dental records or his X rays and medical records, or whatever else you might need to make a positive identification on this corpse, and you check again, and then you get Captain Klein over here to check those records as well. That's an order, Rizzo. Why are you standing around? Get busy...on the double, Corporal! I'm almost positive this isn't Booth, so now we have to figure out who this man is, and where Booth is. We're wasting time we haven't got, so go! NOW!"
"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Giving the officers a sloppy salute, Rizzo tore out of the room in a hurry as he went to find the medical records he needed.
Captain Jarvis turned to the new chaplain, hoping to control the rush of feelings which threatened to overwhelm her. "I guess this was a false alarm, Greg. I'm sorry I dragged you out of the office on your first day for no good reason. I don't think this man is actually who the Army says he is…"
"Maybe not, Sally, but I'm going to pray for him anyway, as long as I'm here." Nodding as he anointed the body on the table and then making the sign of the cross over the deceased, Father Koralek sighed. "I'm glad this isn't your friend Sergeant Booth, Sally. I wonder if we'll ever find out who this man was. I imagine somebody will miss him, and they may never know what happened to him…"
"I know, Greg...I know." Captain Jarvis bowed her head once again as they prayed for the repose of the man laid out on the table before them. "I hope his family will find peace someday."
oooooooooo
"Thanks for coming with me, Angela." Brennan fidgeted slightly in her chair as she looked around the drab waiting room. "I don't know what to think…"
"I'm glad I could be of help." Angela tenderly patted Brennan's arm. "I know you're nervous, Sweetie, but look at it this way, okay? If they knew for sure Booth had died in the crash, the Army would've sent a detail to your apartment to inform you of his death instead of asking you to come here. Booth has listed you as the person who should be notified, right?"
"I think so. I mean, he said he was going to do that the day he added me as a signee to his bank account." Brennan grimaced slightly as she looked at the date on her phone. "That reminds me...I need to check the status of his bills…" She chewed the inside of her lip and shrugged, realizing that Angela wouldn't understand what she meant. "He said if he was delayed for some reason, he wanted me to pay his bills for him. I guess I should go ahead and do that so he won't have to worry about it...when he comes home..." Brennan's voice faded away as she blinked back a tear. "I told him I'd take care of things for him while he was gone..."
"Of course. That's a good idea.", Angela agreed, realizing that Brennan needed something to focus on other than Booth being missing. "Anyway, since Colonel Randall wanted you to come to his office to discuss things, that means they probably have some news, but they must think Booth is alive, right?" Angela smiled weakly, hoping to convince herself that what she was explaining to her friend was the actual truth. "Try not to fret…"
Sergeant Reese cleared his throat as he came into the waiting room. "Dr. Brennan? Colonel Randall will see you now…"
"Thank you." The two women entered the austere office and were greeted by the tall, lean colonel as he rose from behind his desk, reaching out to shake hands with his visitors.
"Dr. Brennan...thank you for coming. I know this has been a terribly frustrating situation for you. You must be quite upset."
"Yes, you are correct. It's quite upsetting and very frustrating." Nodding nervously, Brennan pointed to her companion. "This is Angela Montenegro. She's here…"
"...for moral support." Angela took Brennan's hand in hers. "I'm her best friend. I didn't think she should be alone right now."
Seeing the officer's wary surprise, Brennan quickly explained. "Anything you need to tell me can be said in front of Angela. She has the same security clearance as I do. Besides, I'd end up telling her everything anyway."
"I see. Well, have a seat. Would you ladies like some water?" Leaning on his cane as he moved to a small refrigerator, he removed some bottles and set them on his desk. "I'm still a bit hobbled by my knee surgery, but I didn't want to wait any longer to meet with you." Randall eased into his chair and opened his bottle, taking a slow drink as if to gather his thoughts. "I'm not sure where exactly to begin, so I'm just gonna dive in, okay? If you have any questions, go ahead and ask, and I'll do my best to answer them." Seeing Brennan nod, he continued slowly. "As I'm sure you've heard, we had a chopper go down in Pakistan not too long ago…"
"Yes, I know. The news agencies reported three deaths in the crash." Brennan closed her eyes and sighed softly before continuing. "Was Booth...one of them?"
"Well, based on what we know right now, it doesn't look like it." Colonel Randall paused slightly to let his news sink in. "We knew who the pilot and the copilot were, because, of course, they were assigned to the flight detail. Their identities were never in question. However, the situation soon became complicated, because when the third body was found in the wreckage, he had Booth's dog tags around his neck."
"But if he had Booth's dog tags...I don't understand." Shaking her head, Brennan tried to make sense of what the colonel was telling her. "Booth would never give up his dog tags...unless…"
Colonel Randall raised his hand slightly to interrupt. "I know...I'm not sure what to tell you about that right now, Dr. Brennan, but here's what we do know for sure. It turns out one of the Army chaplains who was called when the bodies came into the morgue had met Booth while he was stationed there at Bagram, and when she saw the body they'd identified as Booth based on the dog tags, she didn't think it was him. I guess she had the mortuary attendant running around that base like crazy trying to find medical and dental records to back up her claim, but turns out she was right, and the base hospital's chief of staff has concurred with her assessment. As a matter of fact, he used some of the techniques you've developed for the Army to use in identifying unknown casualties." Colonel Randall took another sip of his water. "The guy in the morgue was way too small to be Booth. We now know for certain that Sergeant Major Booth was not present on the helicopter when it went down."
"That's good news, isn't it, Sweetie?" Angela clasped Brennan's hand gently. "Booth's not dead…"
"We don't know that for sure, Angela. All we know for sure is that he wasn't killed in the helicopter crash." Brennan was grim as she eyed the officer sitting across from her. "Do you have any idea where Booth might be, Colonel Randall? Do you know for certain that he's still alive?"
"Not really, no..." The man ran his fingers through his short grizzled hair, clearly frustrated by his inability to provide solid evidence to his visitors. "...although we were able to trace some of his movements over the last several weeks." He inhaled deeply, pursing his lips slightly before he continued. "What I'm about to tell you is top secret, but given your past work for the Army, Dr. Brennan, I feel I can trust in your discretion." Seeing that she and Angela both understood, he continued. "You may have heard about the assassination of an Afghan warlord last month. As you probably have already surmised, that was Booth's doing. He returned to Bagram as soon as his task was completed, because his spotter had been severely wounded in the incident."
"Booth sent me an email saying he'd be successful, and that he'd be home soon." Brennan glanced at Angela. "That was the last email I received from his military email account." She hesitated slightly, deciding not to mention the other message she'd received from him. "That email account has been suspended, it appears...even Ms. Montenegro, with all of her computer expertise, can't get that account to work. I visited with Sergeant Reese a few days ago, hoping to find out what the problem is, but to no avail."
"Well, I guess that explains one mystery. I never got Booth's action report from his most recent assignment, either." The colonel made a quick note on his tablet. "I'll instruct Reese to check into the email account problem again." Looking through his notes, the colonel continued. "Booth's spotter was going to be sent to Ramstein a few days later for follow up care, and the hospital's staff at Bagram reported seeing Booth while he was visiting the man the day before he was to supposed to leave for Germany, and then early the next morning, when the spotter was actually shipped out. Unfortunately, I can't find an accurate record of the spotter's name. It says here the guy is named 'Johnson', but for reasons I can't divulge, I have my doubts as to the veracity of that statement. Major Evans has chosen not to cooperate in this investigation. I've got a call in to Major Tomacek, since he was the officer who'd made the original arrangements to get the spotter to assist Booth, but he's with a division on survival maneuvers and so he can't be contacted until later this month. In addition, the medical staff at Ramstein won't provide me any information on the guy that was sent to them since technically I'm not his commanding officer...some sort of stupid goddamn federal privacy regs, similar to HIPPA, you know. They won't even tell me what is says on his dog tags until I get a letter from the Secretary of the Army giving me permission to have that information, and then only with the man's personal okey-dokey. Unfortunately, it seems he's been under some pretty heavy sedation right now, and his wife doesn't want to sign the waiver without asking him what he thinks about the deal. It seems no matter which way I go in this investigation, I hit a brick wall." Colonel Randall grimaced in disgust. "Some of that famous Army red tape, you know? Although, this thing seems to be more fucked up than normal...if you'll pardon my French, ma'am...a helluva lot more fucked up than I'd expect it to be under the circumstances." Blushing slightly, the colonel cleared his throat. "Look, what I'm saying is that it seems like someone went out of their way to keep me in the dark on this matter…"
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Who is Major Evans?" Brennan's brow furrowed as she listened to the colonel's explanation. "Major Tomacek was his commanding officer in Germany…"
"Evans was Booth's commanding officer at Bagram. He remembers seeing Booth when he came back from his assignment in Afghanistan, but he won't give us anything else to go on." Randall nervously tapped his fingers on his desk, averting his eyes from his visitors. "Unfortunately, Major Evans is in the Bagram stockade as we speak, waiting to be brought back to the States for a court martial. An anonymous tip has led the JAG office to find a stash of child pornography on his work computer…"
"Oh, dear God…", Angela muttered, looking as if she might vomit.
"But what does this have to do with Booth?" Brennan's mounting frustration was evident as she leaned forward in her chair. "Please, Colonel…I have to know..."
"Major Evans said that Booth left everything in his quarters when he disappeared...computer, clothes, everything. He believes Booth went AWOL to avoid disciplinary action connected to defying the orders of a superior officer…"
"That's ridiculous! Booth would never do that!" Clearly horrified, Brennan sprang from her seat and began to pace the room. "I can't believe he'd go AWOL…not for something like that. If he felt he had reason to defy orders, he'd stay and defend himself. He'd explain his point of view, not run away."
"I don't believe it either, Dr. Brennan." Colonel Randall offered an apologetic shrug. "I've known Booth for many years, and I'd trust him with my life. He's not defiant without a very good reason, and I know he's not a guy who'd go AWOL." Checking his notes again, he offered up a faint smile. "I know you want evidence, Dr. Brennan, so here's some. I called Captain Jarvis, the chaplain who knows Booth, to thank her for her assistance in determining that the deceased was not our man, and that woman gave me a very loud, very long, and very angry earful, all about how Booth had been coerced into taking an assignment that made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He had serious doubts about taking out the target he'd been assigned. Problem is, he didn't tell her where he was going or who wanted him to do the deed."
Standing with her arms folded across her chest, Brennan glared angrily at the officer, throwing her hands up as she launched into a loud tirade. "How does that help us? We're no closer to finding him than before…I might as well go to Pakistan myself and look for him if this is all the information you have, Colonel...this is a waste of time. We have nothing to go on...he could be injured somewhere and we can't find him. That's it...I'm going to book a flight to Islamabad immediately..."
"Sweetie, you know that's not really practical, right? Look, I know you're upset, but Colonel Randall is trying to help you, okay? Come sit down." Angela patted the seat of the chair next to her. "Please?"
Reluctantly complying, Brennan eased herself into her seat. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being difficult, but…"
"It's perfectly understandable, Dr. Brennan. I know you care deeply about Booth, and I know how much he cares about you." Randall pulled up a picture on his tablet and handed it to her. "Please remember that our conversation isn't to be shared outside this room. Did you hear about the recent car bombing in Peshawar?"
"Yes." She glanced at the picture and handed it back to him, suspicious about where this line of inquiry was going. "Why?"
"Because one of the men who was killed in that incident was, in reality, a CIA operative who'd gone over to the other side. It's possible that Booth was sent into Pakistan to take out the agent..."
"But Booth's a sniper. He doesn't use explosives, does he? At least not to my knowledge." Now thoroughly confused, Brennan sighed heavily as she sank back into her chair. "That doesn't make any sense…"
"True, he normally doesn't use explosives...but right now, it's all we have to go on. Our best guess at this time is that Booth was in Peshawar, Pakistan sometime over the last few weeks, and that's how his dog tags ended up in the area."
"But you don't know if he's there now, and you don't know if he's still alive. Given that someone else had his tags, it doesn't look good, does it, Colonel?", Brennan whispered. "We have to be realistic..."
Setting his tablet aside, Colonel Randall folded his hands on his desk and gazed at the two women sitting across from him. "Maybe not, Dr. Brennan, but I know this...Booth is a damn fine Ranger. He's intelligent, well trained, resourceful, and physically fit. If anyone could get out of a situation like this, it'd be Booth. I also know that the Army will not stop looking for him until we find him, one way or the other. We will bring Booth home, Dr. Brennan. I promise you that."
"I'm not sure you'll be able to keep that promise, Colonel Randall. Pakistan is a large country with a lot of wild frontier to search. With no way to locate him…no way to narrow your search..." Brennan brushed away a tear. "I appreciate your efforts, but…I'm not sure what comfort I can derive from this conversation. Your information is nebulous at best..."
"We're already in contact with the Pakistani government, because we want to know why that bird went down in the first place. We've asked them to check into any rumors they might hear about an American being in the area. Hopefully, we'll get a hit on his location soon, and when we do, we'll go pick him up. Don't give up hope just yet, Dr. Brennan. The Army won't rest until we have him back. I guarantee it."
"Yes, thank you." Rising from her chair, Brennan struggled to maintain her composure. "I'll be in touch." She quickly moved to the door and left the room, with Angela close at her heels.
Turning back to the colonel, Angela smiled sadly. "We appreciate your time, Colonel...I know this is hard on you, too…"
"No problem. After all, in a way it's my fault Booth is in this mess, so I'm gonna do whatever it takes to clear things up." Waving as Angela slipped out the door, Colonel Randall grumbled in frustration as he picked up his phone. "Reese...get your goddamn ass in here…NOW!"
"Yes. sir!" Surprised at the abrupt summons, Reese double timed it to his commanding officer's office. Breathless, he stood in the doorway and saluted. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, I did. Sergeant Reese, Dr. Brennan mentioned that she'd told you personally about the apparent blackout of Sergeant Major Booth's email. Have you looked into the problem?" Looking up from his desk, Colonel Randall scowled at the younger man. "Well? Speak up!"
"No, sir, not yet. I've been busy…with other things...", Reese stammered as he shifted from one foot to the other. "It didn't seem like a high priority at the time…just a minor annoyance or a computer glitch...like maybe he was just out of range or something..."
"That's what I thought, too, at first, but now I'm not so sure. I think you knew that lockdown of his account was deliberate, and you tried to sweep it under the rug, right? It was suspended without the correct command authorization, wasn't it? You did it all on your own, without going through proper channels. My question now is why you did it." Drumming his fingers on his desk, Randall stared angrily at his aide. "You've got 24 hours to get this mess taken care of, Sergeant. I need to know what's going on with that account immediately. It's not just a family matter any more. Military information of a highly secretive nature has been locked down inside that account as well. I need that action report on the warlord's assassination so I can send it on to the guys up top. They want proof that the job was done right, and I'm not going to let you make me look bad, okay?" Nodding his head as he eyed Reese suspiciously, Randall continued. "My guess is that you've known what the problem is with that goddamn email account for a couple of weeks now. I bet it's something I wasn't supposed to find out about since I'm technically still on medical leave...something you were trying to hide from me. You were the one who ordered it to be locked down, and you thought you'd have it back up and running before I found out about it, right? But Dr. Brennan wouldn't let it go."
"No, sir...not really, sir.", the sergeant replied nervously. "I mean, I was assured by Sergeant Cargill in the Cyber Affairs Department that it would be fixed quickly, so I assumed it had been taken care of already. I'm not sure why they haven't done so…" Reese tugged at his shirt collar. "She said it would only take a couple of hours…"
"Well, I'm pretty sure if I call down to Cyber, they'll tell me that you never made inquiries into the matter to begin with, other than to order the account's suspension." Obviously furious, the older man glared at his aide. "I don't appreciate finding out that shit like this is going on behind my back, Reese, especially when it affects the men under my command." Sitting back in his chair, Colonel Randall was practically snarling. "Did you really think I'd be gone six weeks without checking up on things in the office, Sergeant? I've been keeping tabs on on what goes on around here from my lil' ol' laptop while I've been recuperating in my recliner, and guess what I found out? You've got a lot of shit to hide. You know what happened with Booth's account because you've been involved in some sort of cover up...and maybe Cargill is, too. Hell, you might even know where Booth is now, right? So now I'm giving you a deadline to get things cleared up. 24 hours from right now...you got that? And then the shit hits the fan…" Waving his hand to dismiss Reese, the colonel stiffly rose from his chair. "Oh...by the way...you can expect a full review of your actions in this matter, Sergeant. If I'm right about what happened, you'll be hearing from the JAG office about your court martial within the next few weeks."
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Backing out of the office, Sergeant Reese slumped against the wall outside the door. Just like that bastard Green to leave me swinging in the wind like this…
Thinking about how his military career was about to end in disgrace, Reese pulled out his phone and left another desperate message for John Green, hoping things could be fixed before the dam burst and they were all drowned in problems of their own making.