Origins 10 Bloodstorm by David Wood

Author:David Wood
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Dam Neck Annex—Virginia Beach, Virginia

Commander Hartford Maxwell regarded the phone on his desk like it was a venomous snake, poised to strike. It was an apt simile since the phone call he was about to make posed a potentially fatal risk, though not for him.

“Maddock, what have I gotten you mixed up in,” he murmured.

He shook his head ruefully. Like it or not, he had his orders, and inasmuch as they were not to the best of his knowledge illegal or immoral, he was obliged to follow them.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said aloud, and reached for the handset, but before he could close his fingers around it, the phone began ringing. He started a little, pulling back his hand reflexively, but after a couple calming breaths, reached out again and lifted the receiver. “This is Maxwell.”

He half expected it to be Maddock, or perhaps Huntley again, goading him to push through his hesitation, but the voice that sounded in his ear was female.

“Commander Maxwell? This is Alex Vaccaro. We met a few years back when I was NI?”

“The Hell Ship incident. You were Lieutenant Commander Vaccaro back then, as I recall.”

“That’s correct, sir. I’m at Justice now. The Bureau.”

“I see.” Maxie vaguely recalled Maddock mentioning the young woman’s career change, but decided to dispense with small talk. “Is this official business? Because if it is, you’ll have to speak with someone in JAG.”

“Oh, no, sir. Nothing like that. This is actually a personal matter. I heard that...”

She paused a beat, as if trying to regroup and when she spoke again, there was a faint tremor of emotion in her voice. “I heard from a... A mutual friend that Dane... Ah... Lost his... Umm. I just wanted to give him a call. Condolences, I mean.” Maxie’s pulse quickened. The “mutual friend” had to be Bonebrake, and Alex’s use of the vague term suggested the conversation was something she couldn’t talk about in detail.

He spoke quickly, cutting her off. “Miss Vaccaro, where are you right now?”

“Uh, I’m at work. DC, if that’s what you mean.”

“The Hoover Building?”

“That’s right.”

“Perhaps we could meet somewhere? Get a cup of coffee and catch up.”

There was a long silence on the line, followed by. “O-kay.”

He shot his cuff and checked his watch. Almost seventeen hundred. “There’s a shuttle flight leaving Norfolk in about an hour. If I can get a seat, I should be wheels down at Reagan International by nineteen hundred hours.”

“I guess I could meet you there.”

“No,” he said hurriedly. “Actually, it would probably be better if I came to you. I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

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