Armed Resistance. Don Pendleton
to the Able Team warriors were unusually comfortable.
They were barely seated when a tall, distinguished-looking man in his early fifties entered the room. He had thin hair of a color somewhere between white and gray. The eyes were equally gray but there was no mistaking the intelligence and hard discipline behind them. He was attired in standard Class B uniform, and a bucket-load of medals adorned the left breast of his shirt. The twin stars of his rank rode on dark green epaulettes and glistened in the morning light that streamed through the window.
They rose to attention and saluted in unison. He returned the salute casually, shook hands with each of them in turn and then took a seat behind his desk.
“Gentlemen, this is Command Sergeant Major Shubin,” Saroyan said, gesturing to a man who entered right at that point and took a position near the general’s desk.
Shubin was considerably shorter than his CO but no less intense. He wore the identical Class B uniform and nearly as many medals, the only difference being that on his epaulettes were three stripes and three rockers, a star cradled in a leaf centered between the chevrons.
Saroyan continued. “Sergeant Major Shubin is the senior noncommissioned officer on the base, and I’ve asked him to be a part of this inquiry since the armory here at Camp Shelby falls under his purview along with all of the other S1 depots.”
“That’s all well and good, sir,” Lyons replied, adding the honorific quickly as an afterthought. Damn, he’d almost blown it and he’d barely opened his mouth. “But I assumed that we would be joined by your senior supply officer, as well. We are, after all, talking about a dozen missing assault rifles.”
“I’ll be candid with you, primarily because you are representatives of the Army’s chief law-enforcement division,” Saroyan said. “Under most circumstances I would’ve had Colonel Scott join us. Unfortunately, he had to leave the base quite suddenly. A family emergency—I’m sure you understand.”
“I see,” Lyons said. He glanced at Shubin and then returned his attention to Saroyan. “Well, I have every confidence the sergeant major here can assist in our investigation.”
“Sir,” Blancanales interjected, intent on getting the situation into their control as soon as possible. “Being as these weapons have gone missing and Colonel Scott is not present—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Chief…?” Saroyan’s voice trailed off.
“You’ll pardon me, sir,” Blancanales said. He made a show of reaching for his credentials.
Seeing they had not demonstrated proper protocol, Lyons and Schwarz followed suit. They should have presented their identification and orders to investigate to the base commander immediately on arrival, but they knew the oversight would be forgivable under the circumstances. If nothing else, Blancanales was convinced Saroyan didn’t know anything about the missing weapons; his choice to not tell them Scott was actually AWOL was little more than courteous. No matter whom they represented, in Saroyan’s and Shubin’s view the trio were outsiders and would be treated as such where it concerned reputable Army officers until they had proved their trustworthiness.
Once Saroyan made a cursory inspection of their credentials, he sat back and smiled, although Blancanales didn’t see much warmth in it.
“Now that we’ve dispensed with formalities,” Saroyan said, “I’d like to follow up on your earlier comment. I’ve known Colonel Scott for a good many years, gentlemen. As a matter of fact he served as my S1 officer during Operation Iraqi Freedom. He’s a man of good reputation, not to mention a United States Army officer and a gentleman. I’m sure his family emergency has nothing to do with the missing weapons.”
“Sir, you’ll understand if we tell you that it’s our responsibility to investigate anything we think may be related to these missing weapons,” Lyons said.
“I know your responsibilities, Mr. Irons.”
“I think what Chief Irons is actually trying to say,” Blancanales cut in, “is that we must consider Colonel Scott’s sudden departure as a little untimely. We do need to review all possibilities, of course. However, under the present circumstances will be more than happy to work with Sergeant Major Shubin until we can speak with Colonel Scott.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Rose,” Shubin said.
“You must understand, sir, that we will have to speak with Colonel Scott before we leave Camp Shelby and return to Washington,” Schwarz hastily added.
“Of course, absolutely,” Saroyan said. “As I’ve already told you, gentlemen, you will have the full cooperation of me and my staff and the resources of Camp Shelby at your disposal. We’re ready to cooperate with your investigation.”
“Thank you,” Lyons replied.
Saroyan turned his attention to Shubin. “Sergeant Major, escort these men to their quarters. I’m sure they would like to get cleaned up before heading to the armory and speaking with Lieutenant Jaeger.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who’s Lieutenant Jaeger, sir?” Lyons said.
“Jaeger’s Colonel Scott’s XO. He’ll be able to answer any questions you have to your satisfaction.” Saroyan favored Schwarz with a glance and added, “That is, of course, until Colonel Scott can get back here.”
“Exactly how long is Colonel Scott expected to be gone, sir?” Blancanales asked.
Lyons had difficulty repressing a smile. While his tactics were much different in human interactions, there were times the wisdom of his friend shone through. He knew that Blancanales hadn’t asked the question because he actually wanted to know when Scott would return; Blancanales wanted to see how Saroyan would dance around the inquiry.
Saroyan replied straight-faced. “I’m not really certain since it was an emergency. I approved a pass of up to seventy-two hours for him if needed, and so I would expect him back here in that time unless he notifies my office prior to that, of course. Will there be anything else?”
“Not at all,” Blancanales replied. “Thank you again, sir.”
The three men rose, the meeting obviously adjourned, and Shubin escorted them out to the parking lot. They decided to follow him rather than ride in his vehicle so they could discuss the short, if not very strange, meeting with Shubin and Saroyan. Rather than go to their quarters, however, Lyons had insisted Shubin take them straight to the armory depot where the missing weapons had been stored.
“I don’t like him,” Lyons said when they were alone.
“Who…Saroyan?” Schwarz asked.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think he’s a bad egg,” Blancanales said. “And he doesn’t strike me as the type who would get into arms smuggling, especially not with all the checks and balances that are required.”
“This was obviously an inside job, Pol,” Lyons insisted.
“I don’t disagree.” Blancanales shook his head. “But at the end of the day I don’t think Saroyan had anything to do with it.”
“Yeah, but he lied for Scott with that cockamamie story about him having emergency leave,” Schwarz said.
“Covering the ass of a trusted officer doesn’t automatically qualify the guy for collusion with Sudanese terrorists,” Blancanales reminded his friend. “Not to mention the fact that we have no hard evidence to suggest even Colonel Scott’s culpable. We’re talking about high treason here, committed by more than one Army officer, and I’m not entirely convinced that’s the case.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time somebody inside the U.S. military flipped sides,” Lyons said.
“Of course not. But let’s consider motives, Ironman, or at least the lack thereof in this case.”