Joe took the phone. “Mr. Scotsdale. Colonel Spagnola. Yes, sir, I understand completely. Yes, sir, I understand, but the only one that can rescind my orders is Major General Tennessee Milton. He sent me here with specific orders and until he rescinds those orders, I am obligated to carry them out. You can call him and have him call me. In the meantime, I will continue to follow them.” More listening. “Yes, sir. I know who you are. I will expect to hear from Major General immediately.”
Instead of placing the phone in Chandler’s outstretched hand, Joe hit the end call button and pocketed the phone. “Gino and Mordichai, please place Mr. Chandler under arrest for his numerous treasonous crimes against the United States of America.” Joe’s voice turned crisp, all military commander.
“What?” Chandler backpedaled. Tried to put himself behind the major. “Kingsley, do something. It’s your job to protect me from these people.”
“Major Kingsley is a soldier serving his country, Chandler,” Joe said calmly. “He does not serve a man who would willingly sell out his country.”
Gino and Mordichai closed in on Chandler and grasped him by either arm. They had him in shackles, his arms behind his back.
“This is not necessary. I demand to talk to my lawyer. You have no proof whatsoever.”
Joe ignored him. “I believe it is safe enough to bring your wife in to access Mr. Chandler’s computers, Major Mazza. If you would escort her?”
“It’s impossible to access my computers without a password, and that’s not going to happen,” Chandler snapped.
“There is a pilot being held prisoner here. He was a member of the other security team sent here that Chandler had enhanced,” Joe continued as if Chandler wasn’t speaking.
Most of the men looked at one another, clearly puzzled. They weren’t aware of the pilot’s presence on the property. Rubin and Ezekiel continued to look at Major Kingsley and Jarod Barnard. They had exchanged an uneasy look.
“Major Kingsley, why was this pilot brought here?” Joe asked.
“Sir, he has knowledge needed to help my men recover from their present illness, which he steadfastly has refused to give up.” Kingsley barked the information to the open field, refusing to meet the colonel’s eyes.
“You are certain he has this information?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was Chandler the one who told you this?”
“No, sir. We discovered the other soldiers had been investigating a woman who worked in a research laboratory.”
“How did you discover that?”
The major hesitated, looked down at the ground and shook his head. “One of the soldiers in the other unit told Mr. Chandler, sir.”
“He betrayed his unit?” Joe pushed.
Kingsley looked even more uncomfortable. “Things were done to him. To us …”
“Shut up,” Chandler snapped. “That’s classified information.”
“I’m a GhostWalker, Major Kingsley,” Joe said. “You have no need to worry that anything you say to me will be used against you. I need the information as fast as possible to help your unit. The other unit sent us here to aid yours and recover their pilot.”
There was a hushed silence, as if the wind itself stood still at the announcement. Rubin was always surprised that one GhostWalker didn’t recognize another. They all watched as Zara Hightower Mazza was escorted into the main building by her husband, Gino. It was easy enough to recognize Zara. Her face was plastered everywhere. She was a leading expert in the field of artificial intelligence. She was also an enhanced GhostWalker. One of her greatest gifts was her ability to talk to machines. They liked to talk back to her and give her all their information when she asked for it.
It just so happened that the satellite that Oliver Chandler relied on was one purchased from Samurai Telecommunications. No one had the software in audio or video like they did. The developers had installed it themselves and taught Chandler how to use the program. He worked with them directly, never knowing that Azami Yoshiie was married to Sam Johnson, a GhostWalker and member of Team One. There was always a back door installed into a computer once the GhostWalkers had uncovered a tie to Whitney. Zara could easily use that back door to get into all of Chandler’s computers, talk to them and take every one of their secrets.
“Barry became aggressive, sir. It happens to me. I can’t help it sometimes, no matter how hard I try not to. He told Chandler. I think Barry genuinely wanted help for everyone. I did too. I wanted that woman here. I thought if she could help all of us, maybe we’d be all right.” Kingsley looked down at his boots and shook his head.
“I want you to take me to the pilot immediately,” Joe said.
“He didn’t tell us anything,” Kingsley said. “No matter what Chandler ordered done to him. He wouldn’t tell us where he was supposed to take her or what she could do for everyone. He wouldn’t say anything but his name and rank. He acted like a prisoner of war.” There was grudging respect in his voice.
Kingsley stepped out of line and began walking toward a smaller building to the left of the main building. “This way, sir.”
Joe followed Kingsley, with Ezekiel, Mordichai and Draden in step behind Joe. Rubin watched them go.
I’ll be checking on those sitting on the lawn, Diego, so don’t freak out on me.
Diego shot him a glare. That isn’t in the plan.
It is now. They aren’t looking too good. Wyatt, tell the others “at ease” and let’s take a look at them.
“At ease. We’re doctors. We’re going to be assessing all of you, asking a few questions. Answer honestly. Don’t try to be heroes. That doesn’t get you anywhere in this situation,” Wyatt said.
Rubin stepped out from between the men guarding him and strode straight to the man he thought looked in the worst shape. He was sitting on the grass, alert but curled into himself. He had a yellowish tinge to his skin and orange in his eyes, indicating his liver wasn’t functioning properly.
“You feeling extremely fatigued?”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier acknowledged.
His uniform indicated he was Army, a member of Green Berets. “Your name?” Rubin knelt in the grass beside the soldier, ignoring the horror on the man’s face.
“Sergeant Major Brick Zion, sir. I can stand.”
“You can lie down right where you are. I’m going to examine you the way GhostWalkers are often examined. You’re going to feel heat. I want you to remain very still while I do this. I need to see what’s going on with you.” Rubin’s voice was low but stern, expecting no arguments. He was wearing his uniform, declaring he was a colonel in the Air Force. He had stated he was a GhostWalker. No one was going to quarrel with a thing he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Wyatt came up on the other side of the downed man. All the men watched with great interest as Rubin and Wyatt extended their hands, palms down over the sergeant major’s body and began moving them over him, a scant inch from him. Anyone could see the light bursting from Wyatt’s palms. It was much more difficult to see the light coming from under Rubin’s.
The two men exchanged a long look. Liver’s in bad shape. He’s leaking too much blood, Wyatt said. Can you save him?