The Enemy

helmets with built-in headphones. The passenger had sleeve pockets full of pens. He had clipboards strapped to both thighs. They were all covered with notes. Some kind of score sheets.
    “Marshall’s not here,” the driver said.
    “So where is he?”
    “Who’s asking?”
    “You can read,” I said. I was wearing last night’s BDUs. They had oak leaves on the collar and
Reacher
on the stencil.
    “Unit?” the guy said.
    “You don’t want to know.”
    “Marshall went to California,” he said. “Emergency deployment to Fort Irwin.”
    “When?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Try to be.”
    “Last night sometime.”
    “That’s not very specific.”
    “I’m honestly not sure.”
    “What kind of an emergency have they got at Irwin?”
    “I’m not sure about that either.”
    I nodded. Stepped back.
    “Drive on,” I said.
    Their Humvee moved out from the space between us, and Summer joined me in the middle of the road. The air smelled of diesel and gas turbine exhaust and the concrete was scored fresh white by the passage of the tank tracks.
    “Wasted trip,” Summer said.
    “Maybe not,” I said. “Depends exactly when Marshall left. If it was after Swan’s phone call, that tells us something.”

    We were shunted between three different offices, trying to find out exactly what time Marshall left XII Corps. We ended up in a second-story suite that housed General Vassell’s operation. Vassell himself wasn’t there. We spoke to yet another captain. He seemed to be in charge of an administrative company.
    “Major Marshall took a civilian flight at 2300,” he said. “Frankfurt to Dulles. Seven-hour layover and on to LAX from National. I issued the vouchers myself.”
    “When?”
    “As he was leaving.”
    “Which was when?”
    “He left here three hours before his flight.”
    “Eight o’clock?”
    The captain nodded. “On the dot.”
    “I was told he was scheduled for night maneuvers.”
    “He was. That plan changed.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    I’m not sure
seemed to be XII Corps’ standard-issue answer for everything.
    “What’s the panic at Irwin?” I said.
    “I’m not sure.”
    I smiled, briefly. “When were Marshall’s orders issued?”
    “At seven o’clock.”
    “Written?”
    “Verbal.”
    “By?”
    “General Vassell.”
    “Did Vassell countersign the travel vouchers himself?”
    The captain nodded.
    “Yes,” he said. “He did.”
    “I need to speak to him,” I said.
    “He went to London.”
    “London?” I said.
    “For a short-notice meeting with the British Ministry of Defense.”
    “When did he leave?”
    “He traveled to the airport with Major Marshall.”
    “Where’s Colonel Coomer?”
    “Berlin,” the guy said. “Souvenir hunting.”
    “Don’t tell me,” I said. “He went to the airport with Vassell and Marshall.”
    “No,” the captain said. “He took the train.”
    “Terrific,” I said.

    Summer and I went to the O Club for breakfast. We got the same corner table we had used the night before. We sat side by side, backs to the wall, watching the room.
    “OK,” I said. “Swan’s office called for Marshall’s whereabouts at 1810 and fifty minutes later he had orders for Irwin. An hour after that he was off the post.”
    “And Vassell lit out for London,” Summer said. “And Coomer jumped on a train for Berlin.”
    “A night train,” I said. “Who goes on a night train just for the fun of it?”
    “Everybody’s got something to hide,” she said.
    “Except me and my monkey.”
    “What?”
    “The Beatles,” I said. “One of the sounds of the century.”
    She just looked at me.
    “What are they hiding?” she said.
    “You tell me.”
    She put her hands on the table, palms down. Took a breath.
    “I can see part of it,” she said.
    “Me too.”
    “The agenda,” she said. “It was the other side of the coin from what Colonel Simon was talking about last night. Simon was salivating about the infantry taking Armored down a peg or two. Kramer must have seen all of that coming. Two-star generals aren’t stupid. So the Irwin conference on New Year’s Day was about fighting the opposite corner. It was about resistance, I guess. They don’t want to give up what they’ve got.”
    “Hell of a thing to give up,” I said.
    “Believe it,” she said. “Like battleship captains, way back.”
    “So what was in the agenda?”
    “Part defense, part offense,” she said. “That’s the obvious way to do it.