Hush Little Baby

"Did you enjoy your Chinese?"

I had no intention of being surprised.

"Yes, thank you, when do I leave?"

The voice continued. "I must admit you caught us flat-footed with this; we had to check what the Feds had on you first. They believe you, by the way. I thought we told you to stay a grey man and keep your nose clean. Pulling Marcus Hamilton from the wreckage and watching him die right beside you does not constitute as keeping your nose clean."

"It's not my fault he chose to have some idiot for a driver and die in front of me."

I think the pause was so that the voice on the other end could smile.

"You report to the National Guard barracks in two days, they will kit you out and will have an office set up for you there. The two outside your house can't gain access to the barracks, so you will be left alone. A helicopter will take you onwards the morning after; what rank do you want?"

"Sergeant will be fine."

The voice paused for a moment and I actually believe I caught him by surprise.

"Need I remind you that you actually hold the rank of captain?"

He didn't see me shrug my shoulders, at least I'm almost sure he didn't.

"Maybe so, but I look better as a sergeant."

"Whatever. We've copied all of what the Feds have, and some they don't. Make sure nothing leaves that office."

It was my turn to act surprised. "So you're not coming to visit before I leave."

"Fuck no, do I look that stupid? I'm keeping as far away from you as is humanly possible."

That's when I knew he was kidding and started to laugh, he joined in a second later. I put the phone down, happy that I would see my friend again soon. Keeping busy was easy, still too many minor details and quick trips between my storage lock-up and the shops needed to be done.

*******

With only an overnight bag, I left my house for what felt like the last time. It was one of those nagging feelings, even pausing to look one more time before opening the taxi's door and giving him the address of the barracks. My two friends followed along, right up until I showed some ID and the barrier opened; that's when I lost them.

I was shown into the office of the officer in charge. Instinctively, he looked me up and down before getting out of his seat and meeting me in the middle of his office.

We shook hands and his face broke into a smile before saying. "You've made a few people around here nervous, Mr. Davis."

With a shrug of my shoulders I answered him back.

"That was never my intention, Captain, but thank you for your help."

We spoke for a minute or so, but in generalities. He knew where the request for his help came from, and as a career soldier, he knew enough to not lean towards any question that would have an answer that came with the words 'in the interest of national security' attached to it.

It took another five minutes before there was another knock at the door and another man came in. The Captain passed me over to him and for the next two hours I was down in stores putting a full uniform and kit together. It was mid-afternoon when I was shown to the office that was also to be where I was bunking for the night.

*******

He heard me come in but his attention was still on the board, the pictures and sheets of paper attached to it.

I grabbed hold of sarcasm; he was my friend for the moment. "No. it's okay, I'm good. I don't need your help carrying this shit over to that cot you so graciously provided for me."

This time he looked at me. I bet the bastard had been waiting hours for this moment. The smirk came first.

"I hold the rank of Captain, why the fuck am I going to get my hands dirty helping a lowly sergeant?"

My reply was warm, although it wouldn't have felt like it to an outsider. "And fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Captain Shithead."

By the time I dumped my kit and turned he was standing behind me. We hugged and for the first time since this all started, I felt like I could relax, a little. Over the next hour I once again recounted everything that had happened that night and since then. He winced when I mentioned General Thomson's conversation; those two didn't get on, at any level.

"Well Michael, Homeland is still interested in why he was in this neck of the woods to begin with." Tony stood up and pointed towards the board. "C'mon let me give you a family history lesson."

I stood alongside my friend as I got a rundown on the life of Marcus Hamilton, founder of Trent's Securities. "Married twice, the first wife gave him a daughter before she left. Divorced and now living in France, taking said daughter with her, I might add. The second wife popped out a daughter and two sons, both of whom work for the company; he was still married to this one. We're not sure if she knew about the mistress that appeared in time for the reading of the will."

Yes Mr. Hamilton was very social, and if his wife wasn't on his arm at these events, then his mistress was. His business expanded almost ten years ago and got to be as busy as his legitimate one, import-exports. Anything from a painting to a person, although none of the agencies with three letters could ever prove the latter. It seems that Marcus Hamilton made a guarantee: if Trent's securities picked it up it got delivered, and that guarantee carried the full weight of his company.

"So we have a dead Marcus Hamilton on our hands and you sat holding his hand when the cavalry turned up and started taking pictures."

As exasperated as I was, I still said it again. "For the last time Tony, it was his stupid driver that practically jumped the lights, harsh breaking in that snow and ice meant the truck driver stood no chance of ever stopping, I was just in the neighborhood."

My friend shrugged his shoulders before adding. "The flags started going up yesterday; someone is digging into your life, and the fact that all records on you start to thin out after five years makes whoever is looking at you add two plus two."

I was still looking at all the photos, and although my mind placed these faces into my memory, it was then that my mouth opened and said. "For all the wrong reasons."

Tony left me alone for a moment. He knew what I was doing, even coming back with two coffees when he knew I was done memorizing everything we had on Marcus Hamilton and his company.

"You don't have to do this, you know. Even the boss can't figure out why you're doing this. Let us make you disappear, Mike. We will even wipe you off the Feds system; you did enough just with your last two tours to earn that much from us."

They could, too, and I found myself wondering why I didn't take them up on the offer on the table. If anything, I would always ask myself how long it would be before they found me. I couldn't live like that; an organization as big as Trent's Securities would have the resources to keep looking. Not to mention the ability to reach out to others, a favor owed or bought, another freak moment like the one that placed me in that position once again.

Marcus Hamilton's family ran Trent's Securities and they were all young; they had time on their side. I needed this settled because I refused to spend my life looking over my shoulder. Hell I did that enough because of the people I work for at that moment.

*******

Two months later... Look good when you lie.

"Sarge, you're wanted in the comms room."

I dismissed the troops; they all needed a shower and rest. It had been one hell of a tough few days. I made my weapon safe and followed the signals corporal. I knew where the comms room was but since he was headed back there, I thought he may as well take lead. The lieutenant saw me come in and raised his voice.

"All non-essential personnel go get a coffee." He scanned the room and then said. "On second thought, everybody except Corporal Andrews can go get a coffee."

The room emptied, and most cast a glance sideways at me as they left. A minute later the big screen came to life, Special Agent Conner came into view, and he took a real long look at me before he spoke.

"Sergeant Michael Davis, or Rambo, I'm undecided."

The corporal behind me stifled a laugh; he regretted even that much when the officer in charge turned and glared at him. As for me I just stared at Special Agent Conner, I was just too tired to even rise to his bait.

"Do you mind if I sit down Special Agent? I assume we have to go through your repertoire of army jokes before you get to the point."

He actually looked like I had just slapped him, Lieutenant Jefferson shot me a warning look and Corporal Andrews tried ever so hard to look busy. Given the fact that I was in this shithole and he wasn't, I just couldn't be bothered with manners. Special Agent Conner gave me one more glaring look and then glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand.

"As of six-forty this morning there was an explosion at your house followed by a fire." This time he looked up at me for some sort of response, and found none. "You don't look surprised, Sergeant Davis?"

"Faulty gas valve, Special Agent Conner, I had been meaning to get that changed; sadly, I never got around to it."

It was then I looked around the empty comms room and then back at the screen.

"My memory isn't what it used to be, Special Agent, I would appreciate it if you would give the fire department that information, it may help with their report into the fire."

That caused Special Agent Conner to look more intently at me.

"Are you saying this is nothing but a coincidence and a faulty valve is to blame?"

He watched me nod my head while I watched his jaw tighten; I could see a heart attack on the horizon for this man. The screen went dark and I paused for a moment before looking at Andrews; he shrugged his shoulders in return. It seems I upset the Special Agent, that's when I turned to leave.

"A word, Sergeant."

When I looked, Lieutenant Jefferson was already headed for the far corner of the tent, I joined him. When he turned, he had clearly memorized what he had to say.

"You've just come off a patrol so I'm allowing some leeway here Sergeant." He then pointed to the blank screen for effect, before saying. "But that was unacceptable and the attitude you displayed towards that agent was a disgrace to this uniform."

I didn't like Jefferson and he knew I didn't, but he had a point. I apologized and told him that the next time Special Agent Conner requests a video conference I would apologize to him as well.

Lieutenant Jefferson's eyes widened in surprise and said. "You're expecting him to call back?"

"I should imagine that will be within the next week or so, but yes, sir, I do."

With a salute, I left the comms room and went looking for a shower and my bunk. Three days later I was once again summoned to the comms room, Lieutenant Jefferson was still the officer in charge, and I'm sure he was remembering my conversation with him. Corporal Andrews also seemed to have been picked for this detail, since the room was empty but for us three.

The screen went live and once again Special Agent Conner looked back at me. He didn't look like he had slept yet. When he spotted me, he lifted a sheet of paper from the desk he was standing next to.

"As of two-twenty this morning, your storage lock-up was destroyed by fire." He looked up from his sheet of paper and said. "Want me to tell the fire chief that was a faulty gas valve, as well?"

I pulled air into my lungs and said. "Special Agent Conner, I must apologize for my bad manners the last time we talked. It was inappropriate, and the fact that I had just come back from a very stressful patrol led to my shortness of manners. I do hope you accept my apology?"

Judging by the look on his face, the man was made of Teflon; my rehearsed apology just dripped right off of him. Lieutenant Jefferson didn't look too convinced either, but I did what I had set out to do and now I had to turn my attention to this situation.

With my best poker face firmly in place I said. "In my haste, I had placed three bottles of very good quality gin in amongst my possessions at the storage locker, the heat baring down on those storage lockers must have expanded the liquid, so it was only a matter of time."

"Bottles of booze caused your storage locker to burst into flames?"

"Yes sir."

"Just how stupid do you think the fire chief and I really are?"

Boy, wasn't that an open-ended question. I told him I would notify my insurance company as soon as the transmission was over. Well, at least he let me say that much to him before the screen went blank once again, Lieutenant Jefferson just shook his head and called in the rest of the people off of their impromptu coffee break.

It was obvious even to me that Lieutenant Jefferson wasn't going to let this alone. By sundown I was standing in front of the Colonel. It was unusual for a sergeant to stand in front of his CO alone, but Colonel Knowles and I went way back.

"You're having a bad run of luck back home, Mike, is that bad luck going to come here someday?"

"I would say it would, Sir, I'm just not sure in what shape or form its coming."

Colonel Knowles looked at me long and hard right about then, he eased his body back into his chair. "I knew you came back here for a reason."

He was right, and when he nodded to a chair I sat down. My respect for this man tore at my heart and eventually, and I'm sure it was against several orders, I told him why I was there. He knew I wasn't sugar coating anything, but even as my words came to the end of my story his face had already told me he had come to a decision. I just hoped I could live with it; although I was capable of it, going over his head was the absolute last thing I ever wanted to do.

"It's dangerous enough out here, Mike, without you dragging a vendetta over here with you."

He was right, of course; I had dropped my ass back with this man because I knew I wouldn't have to explain too much of my past. In so doing, I had placed every man and woman here in greater danger than they deserved. We talked for close to an hour over what either of us could do, his adjutant joined us for the back end of the meeting and between us we formulated a plan that even my own boss agreed with.

*******

A month later... She was long overdue.

Word came down from command that we were getting a visitor, some German magazine was running an article on the war there and asked the Pentagon if they could send a reporter to do an 'on the ground' report. Colonel Knowles was ordered to give the reporter every support; sure enough, two days later Dana Hoffmann sat in his office.

He sent for me after meeting her, pulled a tape recorder from his desk and let me listen. In it she outlined what she wanted to do and Colonel Knowles wanted to know why she was on her own.

From the sound of it, she become agitated when the Colonel asked; although her response was swift in coming. "I can look after myself, Colonel."

That statement didn't fool anyone, the Colonel mostly.

"When you people turn up it's always in threes, and with what you people euphemistically call a security advisor."

She remained cool. "I do my best work alone, Colonel."

Colonel Knowles sat and watched me listen to his conversation with the reporter, on occasions I would jot down some notes, after a few minutes he got up and walked to his fridge. He placed one bottle of water in front of me and sat back down again, the warmth of his office already giving the bottle a frosted coat.

The Colonel's voice once again boomed from the machine when he said. "All said and done, you're still a civilian on a military base. When you leave here you will talk to my adjutant. He will give you a list of what you can and can't do; memorize them, they are hard and fast rules."

My breath caught when she did the one thing that none of us were brave enough to do, she challenged Colonel Knowles and in his own office, when she said. "What happened to freedom of the press Colonel; even I know it's enshrined in your constitution somewhere."

His answer almost made me choke when he replied, "I remember reading about that when I was at school." The sound of his bottle being placed on his desk gave off that sound of the punchline coming. "Then I joined the military. This is the most forward base in this country, Miss Hoffmann, that means special forces tend to drop by from time to time and if they see you with a camera in your hand, they will break it off in your ass."

Hearing the creak of his chair gave me the impression that he wasn't pausing for effect, it was more like dropping the other shoe into the conversation.

"And I guarantee you Miss Hoffmann, not one person in this base would have seen them do it."

*******

Three days later ... Introductions.

I looked at my team, each and every one of them as tired as I was.

"Go get fed and then shower, I promised the cook an early night so be nice to her and she may even decide not to spit in your food for pushing her down time back. I don't want to see any of your asses, and that includes Mendez's, until 08:00 tomorrow."

The voice from the back of the group came next.

"So we're going to spend the next ten minutes debating my fat ass again?"

The whole group broke into laughter as they followed the smell of food. When I turned, she was standing there, watching. Knowing the height of the door into the tent she was standing in front of meant Miss Dana Hoffmann would be five-six maybe five-seven, blonde and a stunner. She also had a face on her that made it look like she had licked on a frog.

"That was wholly inappropriate, don't you think, Sergeant?"

"MENDEZ."

The whole group stopped dead in their tracks but only one voice came from the middle of the group.

"Yes Sergeant?"

"C'mere, the reporter lady says I'm a sexist pig."

My whole team turned and took a step towards the confrontation; it was Mendez who told them to stand down. Corporal Charlotte 'Charlie' Mendez strode towards Miss Hoffmann while my team once again headed towards the smell of food. Charlie Mendez was my right hand in my team, joined the army to "move out of the ghetto," her words. She was also the same height as Dana Hoffmann, and although still encased in combat gear, she could give Miss Hoffmann a run for her money in body.

"What's your beef, lady, you're making me late for chow?"

To give her some credit, Dana Hoffmann wasn't backing down. "This man just singled you out amongst your group and used inappropriate language to a female in uniform."

I watched the back of Charlie's head shake; the sigh came next.

"Have you eaten yet?" Dana nodded; Charlie took her by the arm and turned. "Well I haven't and you're making me late, so come join us and get a real education."

Dana Hoffmann didn't have much say in the matter, judging by the way Corporal Mendez had hold of her. She looked over her shoulder at me, I'm still not sure how I kept a straight face while all she did was scowl at me. I sure got the feeling I was not on the top end of any list she might have on nice people she'd met since she'd been there.

Although I bumped into Dana Hoffmann from time to time, she did seem to always have someone with her. Rumor around the base was that she was competent and asked good questions for a reporter, I don't know what was said over food that night, either, but Corporal Mendez seemed to have a new friend.

*******

I decided my team needed to brush up on their hand-to-hand combat skills. When I talked to the fitness Sergeant, he gave me one of those all-knowing smiles and said he would arrange for the instructor to take the class. My mistake was not knowing who the unarmed-combat instructor was. The fitness folks were only too happy to close down the tent they used for PT, for the duration of this exercise, the smirks didn't go unnoticed either.