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“Ma’am, I’m sorry to ask again, but you never really answered the question. Were you aware of any abuse taking place against ROTC members during your time at Mary Washington University?” Laura Lee asked.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you. No, I was not aware of any abuse taking place. If I was, I would have reported it.”
“Thank you for your time, Captain,” Garcia said and then stepped towards the door.
“You’re welcome,” she said dismissively.
“If you think of anything, our contact information was left with your secretary when the appointment was made. Please reach out if anything comes to mind,” Laura Lee said.
“Saxton, we’re done here,” Garcia said as he opened and then stepped through the door.
Laura Lee followed. The driver already stood. He led them from the office.
They were silent as the driver made his way back to the Air Force Base. Not even five minutes after they drove out the main gate, both of their phones buzzed with an incoming text message. They both lifted their phones to view it at the same time.
A wide smile spread over Laura Lee’s face as she read the message from Brad. “Mission accomplished. Target placed the call we wanted. We have it recorded.” Her eyes darted to Garcia. He nodded, also pleased. She couldn’t wait until they boarded the plane so they could actually talk to Brad. She hoped the conversation they’d captured was as damning as it could possibly be. She wanted this over and she wanted it to resolve itself without her having to have any more interaction with Harrison West.
They thanked their driver as he pulled up beside the Lear. Once they were on board with the door secured, Garcia initiated the call to Ops. His phone was on speaker.
“Ops,” Brad’s voice came. “You got the desired reaction from the captain. I’ll play you the recording. Shepherd is in with the Major now, so he hasn’t heard it yet. I sent him a text. He knows we got what we needed. That will impact how he plays it with Canfield. So, sit tight there in case he wants you to go back at Burnside. I’ve already notified your pilots to hold position.”
“Roger that,” Garcia said.
“Here’s the recording.” Dupont said.
There were two rings. “Yes,” Harrison’s distinct voice answered.
“I just had a visit from two ASPD investigators,” Burnside’s voice, nearly devoid of her southern accent, stated.
“I have no idea what ASPD stands for,” West said. His voice sounded aggravated.
“It’s the Army Special Projects Directorate. And more specifically they were from the Sensitive Activities Oversight Office, which is really bad. They were asking questions about abuse of ROTC personnel at Mary Washington University.”
“Did they mention me by name?” West asked.
“No. They didn’t seem to know much. They were reaching out to me as a potential witness.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I wasn’t a witness. I was your victim and now I work for you. Do you think I’m crazy? Of course, I told them nothing!”
“Don’t ever say that aloud again. You have quite the imagination. You should write espionage novels,” West said dryly.
“Yeah, that would be a hell of a plot,” Burnside agreed. “Now what?”
“Give me their names. I’ll check them out,” West said.
“Lieutenants Garcia and Saxton.”
“Saxton?” West repeated. “Black female, about thirty years old?”
“Yeah, that was her,” Burnside confirmed.
“Fuck!”
“He sounds pissed,” Garcia said.
Laura Lee’s stomach was already doing flip-flops from the sound of his voice. Hearing Garcia’s commentary put her farther on edge.
