Page 91 of Cross Down
I’m about to call Ned when I see there’s a message from yesterday from Bree Stone. Its subject line isYOUR TAJIKISTAN GENERAL.
The note says:
Took some digging but the officer you saw on that Tajikistan airfield two years ago is General Gerrold Mason. He retired shortly after you spottedhim. His CV is attached in another document, but it looks like a typical officer who went up the career ladder, entering the army via West Point. Rose in the ranks with service in the Eighty-Second Airborne Division in Kuwait, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
You’ll see he went to various schools along the way, including the NATO Defense College, the School of Advanced Military Studies at Fort Leavenworth, and the Center for Strategic and International Studies.
Also wrote a number of papers for proceedings concerning the future of military warfare with an emphasis on drone weapons and other over-the-horizon combat systems.
He’s currently a VP of operational development at Global Security Services, based in Arlington.
But here’s the kicker: Check out this link to the Stars and Stripes newspaper.
I do just that and see a news brief announcing General Mason’s retirement, and sure enough, the guy in the photo is the officer I saw arguing vigorously with Elizabeth Deacon at that CIA airfield.
I go back to Bree’s note.
Did you see the date in the story, John? It looks like Mason had a retirement ceremony on the same day you saw him overseas.
Guess he was already playing in the spook world at the time.
I look up from the screen. More questions, more puzzles.
I go back to Bree’s message.
Hope this helps. Call us as soon as you can. Willow misses her dad. Alex is recovering. He’s in and out of consciousness, but he keeps saying, “It’s not random, it’s not random,” whatever that means.
Love, Bree
And there’s a second kicker, much harder than the first one, in the postscript.
P.S. As to Mason’s marital status, he’s divorced but used to be married to Elizabeth Deacon, a CIA officer now working as a consultant.
Chapter
102
It’s past midnightand Bree Stone is sitting at a large round oak table in the luxurious dining room that belongs to her Bluestone Group associates Frank and Lori Balantic. They’re navy veterans who now work in her company’s counterintelligence section, and both are away tonight, visiting a sick nephew.
In the house with her are her stepdaughter, Jannie, and John’s daughter, Willow. Her stepsons, Ali and Damon, are spending the night with their father at George Washington University Hospital, where he’s improving by the hour, thank God. Nana Mama, who can’t sleep,is in the large kitchen, working on a dinner to freeze for later.
Bree smiles as she hears Nana Mama muttering in the supposedly well-equipped Balantic kitchen: “Why the hell do you have to hang up these pots and pans so damn high?” and “What kind of kitchen doesn’t have cayenne?” and “Bread crumbs. Is that so hard to keep on hand?”
Bree continues working on her company-issue laptop, trying to catch up by reading the minutes taken at the meetings she’s missed over the past week.
She senses Jannie standing next to her, and Jannie says, “Bree.”
Bree holds up a finger. “Give me a sec.”Where in hell is that last set of minutes? Is it in the trash folder?
“Bree.”
Her colleagues have been very sympathetic and understanding ever since Alex was shot, but still, she needs to show everyone that she’s keeping on top of matters and—
Jannie raises her voice. “Bree, please!”
Bree looks over, says, “What’s going on?”
When Jannie speaks again, Bree hears the fear in her voice.
