That caught the man off guard.
“Now you can talk. Who are you, and what is your position?” As he spoke, he took a step forward, hands balled up and resting on his hips. John had seen this more than once when his friend wished to convey a very strong “don’t mess with me” attitude.
The civilian nervously cleared his throat. “I’m Richard Pelligrino, head administrator of this facility.”
“And this facility is…?”
“Site R.”
“I already know that,” Bob snapped. “What is it now?”
Pelligrino hesitated, looking around at all those who were gazing at him. “Who the hell are you to come barging in here like this, slaughtering my security team?”
“You are answering the questions, not I, and you’d better answer me now, Mr. Pelligrino. I’ve got over two hundred troopers outside who are very pissed off. I’ve got a full battalion airlifting here within the hour. I have the assets. Maybe you know who I am, my command, and what I can bring to bear. Do you realize that, Mr. Pelligrino?”
Pelligrino’s gaze drifted to Scales’s name tag. He hesitated and then looked back up at him. “Why are you here? This position is not part of your command.”
“It is part of my command now and you are answering the questions. Therefore, my question. Who are you, and why are you here?” His voice rose as he snapped out the last few words.
“Like I said—” he began.
“‘Like I said, sir,’” Sergeant Bentley interjected sharply, still standing by Pelligrino’s side while a medic was cutting open his sleeve to examine his wound.
Pelligrino cast a sidelong glance at the sergeant, who was still holding on to his .45 with his good hand and then back to Scales. “Like I said”—he paused for a few seconds—“sir. I am the head administrator for Site R.”
“And Site R is…?”
Pelligrino hesitated, which provoked Sergeant Bentley to pivot slightly. The .45 was still down at his side, but the threat was apparent.
“Answer General Scales completely,” Bentley directed, articulating each word slowly and clearly. “We already know this is Site R. What is this place for now, today, Mr. Pelligrino? And no more game playing.”
“It is a designated civilian emergency relocation center,” Pelligrino finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper as if conveying a great secret.
“Sir,” Bentley again interjected.
“Sir,” Pelligrino whispered, head slightly lowered.
“Then let’s take a look at this emergency relocation center, shall we?”
“You can’t!” Pelligrino cried. “This facility has the highest level of security requirements, which I doubt you are qualified for. I am ordering you to turn around, leave now, and we can just call what happened a tragic mistake that I won’t report.”
Bob looked at him with absolute contempt. “My security clearances existed long before you most likely crawled out of your frat house at some Ivy League hole. I’ve put up with shits like you for over forty years, but not this day. If you want to debate it further, look around you. These men with me have as much security clearance as I do after the hell they’ve been through for the last two and a half years and every right to see what is down at the end of that road.”
Pelligrino started to bluster, and Bob, contempt obvious, stepped past him. “Someone drag this bastard along,” he snapped.
John, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, could not help but smile as Pelligrino was shoved to one side, a trooper grabbing hold of him by his collar and pushing him along. He had endured far too many like him during his brief stint at the Pentagon, some of them in uniform, who were just ticket-punching their way up the career ladder and to hell with what was actually right or how many got hurt or even died as a result of their actions.
The tunnel began to widen out. The troopers keeping pace with Bob along either side advanced with weapons raised but not positioned to fire, but could do so swiftly if need be. If there was danger around the corner, Bob did not seem to show the slightest concern, walking down the middle of the paved road that leveled out and then went into a curving turn to the left at the bottom. Half a dozen troopers ahead of him reached the corner where the road turned left and came to a stop, raising weapons and shouting at someone unseen to drop their weapon and keep their hands visible.
Bob motioned for the trooper pushing Pelligrino along to bring him forward.
“Now listen carefully, Mr. Pelligrino. Do you have more armed personnel around that bend?”
He hesitated, and again Sergeant Bentley was menacingly by his side.
He could only nod.
“Then you go forward and tell them to lay their weapons down and come out with their hands up, that the fight is over and no one gets hurt. But if one of my troopers gets shot, Sergeant Bentley or my friend John Matherson here will gladly put one into you. The fight is over, Pelligrino; let’s make sure no one else gets hurt.”
The thoroughly frightened administrator was shoved forward. He cautiously advanced the last few dozen yards, turned in the middle of the road illuminated by several floodlights, and squeaked out a command for those waiting on the far side to give up.
What sounded like an argument started until Pelligrino shrieked out that they were outnumbered and everyone would die if they didn’t surrender immediately.
Seconds later, the first men and women of what John hoped was a final line of defense emerged, hands over their heads. Bob’s troopers, weapons pointed high but still aimed in their direction, shouted out for them to move up the road on the double.
Several dozen emerged, and as they were moved up the road, John could see the looks of fear.
It was the medic who was trying to follow Bentley and work on him who helped defuse the tension, walking in among them, offering reassurances, announcing that if any were hurt they should fall out and she would take care of them; otherwise, they should just keep moving up the road toward the exit. To John’s amazement, one of them was actually smoking a cigarette, the scent of it wafting around him as they passed him.
A cigarette? Here? Just what kind of place is this really?
“Any more?” Bob shouted. A trooper at the very front of the ground turned, looked back, and replied with a hand gesture that all were cleared, but John could see there was a look of confusion from the other troopers who were standing at the bend in the road.
“Let’s see if all of this was worth it,” Bob said softly, starting out again.
Whatever they were about to see, John could not get out of his mind that his friend Lee was dead. Whatever they were to find, was it worth Lee’s death?
And then he turned the corner of the road dug half a mile down into a mountain and came to a stop in silent amazement.