Free Point of No Return by Rita Henuber

dumped more than a shot in his cup. He titled the bottle in her direction.
    She glanced at her watch. “Thank you, but no. Alcohol consumption at ten seventeen is early even for a Marine.”
    He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said and put the bottle on his desk and took a drink of the whiskey-laden coffee. He considered her a moment, the façade returning. “Tell me what you want to see, do, today, Major. The complex covers six thousand acres. We have classrooms, a gym, physical training areas, a pool and athletic fields, a technical command-and-control center, and a small medical center. Where do you want to start?”
    Over the weekend, Honey had carefully reviewed the maps of Global’s five distinct units. She wanted the visual. “Grand tour. You choose where we start.”
    “Sure, but”—his gaze bushed up and down her—“you bring a change of clothes?”
    She shook her head. “Today is a look-see. Get me oriented.”
    “You sure? I can get Verna to find you something. Be a shame to get that uniform messed up,” a smooth Bristol oozed out. “Tomorrow wear camos.”
    “MARPATS,” she corrected. The Marine Corps was very proud of their Marine Pattern uniform and liked it called what it was by those not in the Corps.
    Bristol snorted. “Sure.” He stood. “I have a call to make. If you wait for me in reception I’ll only be a minute.”
    “Certainly. Can I leave my case here?”
    He nodded. Honey lifted her briefcase, carefully positioned it on the chair and retreated to the reception area. After ten minutes of silence and hammer stares from Verna, Bristol appeared in the hall and there was the buzz and click allowing her to reenter.
    “We’re going this way.” He tipped his head in the direction of another set of glass doors, where he swiped his key card and held the door open for her to pass.
    “It is okay for me to hold the door for a Marine in uniform? Wouldn’t want to offend.”
    Honey ignored him, pausing to examine the doors. “These bulletproof?”
    “And then some.” He moved and gave the door a roundhouse kick. “Any glass you see is like this. It would take an RPG or fully armored Hummer to break them.”
    “A Hummer?” She turned to look at the doors from the reception area.
    “Yeah,” he said proudly “Can drive one down every hallway.”
    “Impressive,” she said, wondering why you’d want to, and stepped into an intersection she hadn’t been able to predict. The left opened to a seemingly endless corridor. Bristol led them to the right. They went to steel door twenty-five feet away, their footsteps echoing on the linoleum in the cavernous hall. Another card swipe.
    “Am I going to get one of those?” she said, eyeing the card Bristol slid in a pocket.
    “Yeah. First we need your thumbprint,” he said, using his hip to push open the door to an area surrounded by ten-foot chain link. “Senior employees’ parking. The Hummer is us.” The Hummer was a tricked-out military-style vehicle with more lights and antennas attached than a TV station news truck.
    “Why so serious?”
    “Sensitive data and records to protect. Don’t want DoD thinking we’re fuckups.”
    “Touché.”
    “Check this out.” He stopped at the back of the Hummer and swung open the double rear doors, lifted the top of one of four compartments and a thirty-two-inch monitor rose. A press of a button on a small remote control and the four-view screen came alive. “With a click on the remote I can see what’s going on at the training sites.” He pointed to the screen. “Entries, indoor training center, obstacle course, kill house, and the defensive driving course.”
    Still stuck on parking security, Honey remembered the front parking area. “Why don’t you have a guard at your entrance or at the very least have a sign? You know, the standard dire Warning: Unauthorized persons not permitted. Turn around if you don’t have official business .”
    Bristol laughed. “Don’t need it. We