“He’s talking.”
“Better.”
“Not exactly.”
Sarah studied him.
Hutch took a tarnished silver dollar from his pocket and rolled it across his knuckles.
“Vance says he wasn’t running the operation.”
Sarah leaned back.
“Who was?”
“He won’t say.”
“Then he’s protecting someone.”
Hutch nodded.
“He says the weapons transfers were approved above his clearance.”
Sarah frowned.
“Vance was a four-star theater commander.”
“Exactly.”
Rain streaked the hospital window.
Sarah stared at it.
“Pendelton?”
Hutch’s coin stopped.
“What about him?”
Sarah remembered the tribunal.
The secretary had recognized the code.
But recognition was not what bothered her.
It was fear.
“Nothing,” she said.
Hutch watched her for another second.
“The Secretary has authorized a compartmentalized task force. He wants you involved.”
Sarah looked at the bandages covering her hand.
“What’s the mission?”
“Find the rest of the network.”
“When do we start?”
Hutch glanced toward the monitors.
“The doctors say six weeks.”
Sarah swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Hutch sighed.
“That was not an invitation to negotiate.”
She stood.
Her injured leg immediately buckled.
Hutch caught her.
Sarah clenched her teeth.
“Make it six hours.”
Three days later, Sarah walked into Marcus Thorne’s hospital room leaning on a cane she refused to admit she needed.
Buster smelled her before she reached the bed.
The Malinois lifted his head from a padded mat.
His ears went forward.
For one second, he stared.
Then he released a high, broken whine.
“Buster.”
He scrambled upright despite the bandage around his flank and limped toward her.
Sarah dropped to one knee.
The dog pressed his forehead into her chest.
She wrapped her left arm around his neck.
“You stubborn idiot.”
Buster licked her cheek.
Behind them, Marcus spoke.
“Pretty sure he said the same thing about you.”
Sarah looked up.
Marcus was pale.
Thinner.
His left shoulder was immobilized.
But he was smiling.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“So do you, ma’am.”
“Good.”
He laughed and immediately winced.
Sarah moved beside his bed.
His eyes dropped to her hand.
The smile disappeared.
“I heard what you did.”
“You heard wrong.”
“I heard you burned a classified code into your hand.”
“The glove.”
Marcus raised one eyebrow.
“The surgeons say otherwise.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Marcus looked at Buster.
“You carried me ten miles.”
“Buster carried most of you.”
“Captain.”
Sarah met his eyes.
His voice broke.
“You came back.”
