Free The Book of Truths by Bob Mayer Page B

veins.
    Had she ever had a choice? Maybe, but it was so many years ago, well before the Cellar. Everyone has a key point, a golden moment in their life, where there is a fork in the road and sometimes we make that choice and sometimes we’re shoved onto a path.
    Ten years before Gant’s death, she’d been a teenager, living in Berlin. She liked to think she’d been innocent and naive, but as the years passed, her retrospect shifted also. She’d been walking through Tempelhof Airport, a large, brightly wrapped package in her hands. She could understand the lilting Berliner accent of the natives, and even then, so many years after the blockade and theairlift, there were still those who remembered and gave Americans, like Neeley, an extra smile.
    The men had also noticed her because of her cut-off Levi’s and tight T-shirt. Inappropriate attire for the first week of October in Berlin, but she knew now it was a diversion, set up by her boyfriend who’d given her the package to take to England. It was before 9/11 and security at airports was almost nonexistent.
    Except for Gant, for whom there was no such thing as a lack of security. He’d later told her he spotted her right away. Not because of the long, lean legs or taut breasts straining against the thin shirt, but because she clutched the package to her, just below those breasts. It was a tell those who worked in counterterrorism easily recognized.
    His row had been called, but he had not boarded. He always joked the plane would leave when the last person boarded, so there was no point rushing, but the reality was, he watched every single person as they entered the gangway.
    He had reason to be extra vigilant that day. It was 1993 and the news was full of stories of the Battle of Mogadishu. Helicopters shot down, soldiers dead, bodies being dragged through the streets by angry mobs.
    His role in that affair, he’d never been very clear on.
    Neeley had paused, short of the entrance to the tunnel that would take her onto the plane. Gant had walked up to her, eyes hidden by dark aviator glasses. For such a hard man, his face lit up when he smiled.
    She’d always remember that smile in Berlin, as much as she remembered the look on his face peering out at his waiting grave in Vermont.
    And that was why she’d handed him the package and said: “It’s a bomb.”
    Neeley realized she was staring at her hands. She shook her head, as if she could dislodge all those memories. The memories that she called “no do-over.” Where a decision was made, an event happened, a path was taken, and you could not go back.
    Death was the ultimate no do-over. She’d knelt next to Gant’s grave after filling it, howling at the moon all night, shrieking and pounding the ground until her hands bled and the tears froze on her face.
    “You all right?”
    The crew chief was leaning over her, hanging on the straps as the plane banked hard, flying up a valley between high peaks.
    Neeley blinked. She reached up and wiped her eyes and looked in confusion at the moisture on her fingers.
    It was only then she accepted that she’d been crying. Just two tears but it was the most since that night.
    This was not good.

    The vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Riggs, knew there was stuff going on that people were hiding from him. Not just here in the Pentagon, but throughout the government. The Clowns In Action over at Langley liked to act like they knew what they were doing, but really, ever since 9/11, the military had taken the lead not only in terms of covert action but also intelligence gathering.
    But closer to home and heart, he’d known there was some secret around him, spreading from one person to another like a game of telephone and he wasn’t in the loop. No one was going to whisper it in his ear.
    But this time, it was real bad.
    He’d gotten the report on the Bent Spear in Nebraska. Cleaned up by the Nightstalkers. He could care less about that and more about the