Jamison looked at Decker. “I couldn’t stand being around his father for five seconds.”
When Decker didn’t answer she looked at him. He was staring pensively at the ceiling.
“Whatarethe McClellans doing here?” he said.
“Why is that our concern?”
“Because you never know how things will pan out, Alex, that’s why.”
“THAT IS ONEof the most unusual buildings I think I’ve ever seen, especially in a place like this,” said Jamison as she, Decker, and Kelly drew closer to the chopped-off pyramid representing the centerpiece of the Douglas S. George Defense Complex. They could see now that it was surrounded by other far-more-ordinary-looking buildings.
Kelly said, “I remember as a kid seeing it and imagining all sorts of things going on inside there. We pretended that it was a castle with a damsel in distress inside that we were going to rescue. We would charge it on our bicycles and minibikes.”
Jamison glanced at him with an amused look. “And did you ever rescue her?”
Kelly grinned sheepishly. “Only in our dreams. The fact was you couldn’t get near this place. As kids we did come close sometimes. Even once ran into a soldier carrying a big-ass gun. I think we all wet our pants when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. But he was nice. Didn’t give us a hard time. We were just dumb boys messing around. He gave us some gum and a warning and sent us on our way.”
“You said there were some incidents here before?” noted Decker.
“Just stupid stuff. Couple of drunken fights.”
“Anything else?” Decker persisted.
“Not really.”
“Okay,” said Decker, looking thoughtful.
They were cleared through a security post manned by a quartet of very serious looking men wearing Level 2 body armor and holding combat weapons. They were dressed all in black withSECURITYstenciled on the backs of their vests.
“Vector?” said Decker, reading this name off the label on one of the guard’s sleeves.
Kelly said, “Vector is the contractor that runs this place. They’re the subsidiary of some big player in the arena. Least that’s what I heard.”
They drove to a one-story brick building. It was within walking distance of the pyramid.
Decker eyed the line of ambulances parked in a row next to the pyramid.
They were escorted inside by a uniformed guard and led down a short corridor to a large office. The guard left and Kelly introduced them to Colonel Mark Sumter. He was medium height, about fifty, trim with a bald head and intense blue eyes. He was dressed in an ABU, or Airman Battle Uniform, that carried a camouflage design.
He invited them to sit down across from his desk in three straight-back chairs. “Good to see you, Joe.” He looked at Decker and Jamison. “So you’re the FBI? How can I help?”
Decker said, “There’s been a murder. A young woman named Irene Cramer.”
“Yes, I heard about that.”
“She taught school at the Brothers’ Colony,” added Kelly.
“Did she?” Sumter looked interested. “Do you suspect someone from there might have been involved? They’re very religious folks, from what I understand. Pacifists, in fact.”
Decker shrugged. “We’re just gathering facts, conducting interviews, nailing down timelines.”
Jamison interjected, “I guess it’s unusual to be sharing property lines with a religious organization.”
Sumter bristled a bit. “The DoD, with all its money, somehow found it imperative to sell off most of the land surrounding this installation. Now, I have no problem with the Brothers. I’m just not used to being on base and seeing a tractor plowing a field in the distance. Or oil rigs pumping up crude from the earth. I’m one who likes more buffer, particularly with what we do here.”
“And what is that?” asked Decker. “Kelly just gave us a thumbnail sketch.”
Sumter instantly adopted a more guarded look. “Much of what we do is classified.”