Threat Level Black

“I’d just like to hear the argument in favor of going up there,” said Yorn. “We’ll simply be diverting resources and attention from people who probably already have their hands full. It’s not a question of safety,” he added. “It’s a question of usefulness.”

“ Tyler?” asked Moore.

“I’ll go,” he said.

“That wasn’t quite the question,” said Moore. “Will we get useful information?”

Tyler ’s thoughts wouldn’t focus. He wasn’t an intelligence expert and wanted to say that; on the other hand he understood the importance of actually being on the ground so you knew what was going on.

“It makes sense to see what we see,” he managed finally.

“I agree with the major that it would be worthwhile,” said Somers, sitting next to him. “Colonel, you’re right that it’s pretty chaotic up there right now. But I’d like face-to-face time with some of the soldiers on the scene. Not just the commanders, mind you: You can’t get an accurate assessment from just the officers. No offense.”

“It is a point,” admitted Yorn.

They discussed it awhile more. Tyler didn’t take part in the discussion. It seemed moot with Washington pushing it, but as a screw-up he really didn’t feel he had anything to add. When the debate ended, the consensus was that the trip would be more useful than not. Moore turned to him.

“Would you coordinate the trip?”

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation.

Chapter 10

Howe bought the newspaper but found the classifieds useless for finding an apartment. The listings were sparse near NADT’s Virginia headquarters, and it occurred to Howe that he wasn’t even sure what he could afford. General Bonham had lived in a gated condo community with its own security people; did he need a place like that?

He decided he would ask around the NADT campus to see if anyone had any ideas, and a little past nine A.M. he was about a mile from NADT when he spotted a small real estate office set back on a hill off the county highway that led to the campus. The building itself was an old Victorian-style farmhouse similar to the one where his mother lived, though in much better shape. Howe pulled up the long, winding driveway and parked in the gravel lot off the macadam. Inside he found a receptionist who bore an uncanny resemblance to his hometown librarian, complete with pink-rimmed bifocals and tightly wound curls.

“Yes, dear?” asked the receptionist.

“I’m looking to rent either an apartment or a condo,” he said.

Before she could answer, the phone rang. Howe stepped back from the desk, his gaze wandering to the left side of the foyer. An old-fashioned steam radiator stood in front of the wainscoting, its thick gold paint glowing. The woodwork behind it had several sets of reveals as the panels stepped back to the wall. Whoever had restored the house had done a painstaking job; all of the original details shone through. Howe thought of his friend Jimmy’s business and felt a stab of guilt, as if his decision to take the NADT job meant he was letting him down.

“Are you being helped?”

Howe turned and found himself staring at a woman about thirty years old. She wore a black sleeveless top and a matching skirt that came nearly to her knees; her light-brown hair had a gentle wave in it as it fell just behind her shoulders. She had a few freckles on her face, which was one of those that seemed naturally inclined toward smiles rather than frowns. Her eyes were blue, and she raised the brows as she waited for him to answer the question.

Howe found himself suddenly tongue-tied.

“I, uh, I’m looking for an apartment or a condo, I guess. Something not that big.”

“Married?”

When Howe didn’t answer right away, the woman smiled and held her hand out to him. “I’m not trying to pick you up,” she told him. “Just find out how big a place you need.”

“No, I know. I’m not.” Howe stifled a sudden urge to smack himself on the side of the head. “I’m single,” he added, still fumbling to explain. “I’ve just taken a government job, actually; it’s a job with a company that does a lot of work for the government, but it’s not actually a government agency per se.”

“Per se?” Where the hell did that come from, he asked himself.

“I’m Alice Kauss,” said the woman, holding out her hand. It felt warm and slender in his, yet the grip was firm. “Come on into my office and let me take down some information. Then we’ll see what we can come up with.”

She spun on her heels and walked into what would have been the parlor area when the house was first built. Howe followed across the parquet floor to a sleek metal desk that sat before a covered fireplace toward the back. Somehow the ultracontemporary furnishings looked perfectly at home in the old-fashioned setting.

Not that Howe was able to pay much attention to his surroundings. As they worked through the basic questions, he tried desperately hard not to stare at Alice ’s cleavage and found himself folding his arms over his own chest.

“How much?” she asked.