Curtain of Death (Clandestine Operations 3)

Harmon had a harsh, grating voice, which had caused his subordinates to call him, behind his back, “Old Gravel Voice.”

“General,” White said, “we’re discussing VD. Your knowledge of that subject would be welcome.”

Harmon glared at him.

“Well, in that case,” White said, and raised his voice, “meeting adjourned. To reconvene at eleven hundred in my conference room. Think about what Lieutenant Winters said.”

He then pointed at the lieutenant colonel with wings and at Lieutenant Winters.

“You two stay.”

When everyone else had filed out of the room, Harmon offered his hand to the lieutenant colonel.

“Billy, what is General White going to tell me you did wrong now?”

“Sir, I am as pure as the driven snow,” Lieutenant Colonel William W. Wilson said.

“Ernie, this is Lieutenant Tom Winters,” General White said.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, son. How’s your dad?”

“Mom sent me a picture of her and Dad in kimonos. He’s got the First Cav.”

“I heard. Please give them my best when you write.”

“Yes, sir, I will. Thank you.”

“What’s I.D. got you doing in the Constab, Tom?” Harmon asked.

“Just before you came, I was testing him to see how well he thinks on his feet,” White said.

“And?”

“He’s a chip off the old blockhead,” White said. “Even under pressure he said only one dirty word.” He paused and then asked, “Tom, you sure you want this transfer?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve thought about it carefully.”

“Okay. Billy, Cronley can have him. And the A&M lieutenant, too.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lieutenant Colonel Wilson said. “Permission to withdraw, sir?”

White nodded.

The lieutenant colonel and then Lieutenant Winters shook hands with the generals, and then the lieutenant colonel came to attention and saluted. General Harmon returned it, and then the two younger officers marched out of the dining room.

When the door had closed, Harmon asked, “I.D., what the hell is going on?”

Before White could finish framing his reply, Harmon went on: “Harry Bull called me in last night, told me I was not going home, and would have to put my retirement on hold. When I asked him what the hell was that all about, he said it had come from McNarney and was not open for debate. He said you knew what it was all about, but might not be able to tell me unless the CID gave you permission.”

“Did Harry say ‘CID’? Or ‘DCI’?”

“I don’t remember. What the hell is the DCI?”

“The Central Intelligence Directorate. They can’t use the same acronym—CID—as the MP’s Criminal Investigation Division, so they say ‘DCI.’”

“Okay, then what the hell is the DCI? More important, what’s it got to do with you and me?”

“That brings us back to what Harry said about me needing the permission of the DCI to tell you,” White said.