Chapter 3 - "You're Just a Soldier"
They were down by the elevators. Harlan and all eight sons, straightening their suit jackets, glancing at their watches, looking like men whose afternoon had been badly inconvenienced.
I walked toward them. The hallway felt colder with every step.
"Dominic." Harlan came forward, arranging his face into something grave. His eyes stayed flat. "A terrible thing. She fell — down the main staircase at the house. You know how she gets. Emotional. Careless, in that condition."
I looked at his soft, manicured hands. Then I looked at Preston, the oldest, standing at his father's shoulder with a coffee cup. The knuckles of his right hand were split and going purple.
Defensive fractures, the doctor had said.
"She fell," I said.
"She fell." Preston stepped up, mouth curling. He looked at me like I'd tracked something onto the carpet. "Shame about the kid. Really. But accidents happen, and let's be honest with each other, Hale. What exactly are you going to do about it? You're a grunt. Government hired help. You don't have the lawyers, you don't have the money, and you don't have the stomach to come after a family like ours. Take the pension and walk away quiet."
Not a grieving husband to them. A billing problem.
"You're just a soldier," Preston said.
I looked at his knuckles one more time. Whatever part of me was still just a husband went dark and quiet.
"No," I said. "I'm what's left when everything else fails."
I closed the gap between us before he could set his feet, close enough to watch the smirk twitch. "I don't need lawyers, Preston. I need targets."
Harlan laughed — short, dismissive — and turned his back on me. "Let's go. Leave the soldier here to play nurse. We've got a four o'clock."
I raised my left hand, pushed my sleeve back, and pressed the button on the side of my watch.
May you like
"Perimeter's hot," I said into my wrist.
Harlan stopped with his finger over the elevator call button. He turned around, slow. "What did you just say?"
