Crossing Rubicon Read online

The briefing from Colonel Takbrite claimed Milo’s Criminal Investigation Division counterpart would meet him there, but the place was eerily quiet. There were only three other vehicles in the lot, and not another person could be seen in his quick scan of the area. Milo began walking toward the visitor’s entrance when a familiar face, wearing pristine a class-A uniform, came striding his way. The man stopped about five meters from him and presented a picture-perfect salute.

  “Good morning Master Sergeant Durron. Welcome back to Leavenworth sir.”

  “At ease Carter, there’s no master here,” Milo conceded. “I see they made you a three-stripe. Who did you con to make that happen?”

  Sargent Jacen Carter grinned, but that was the only part of him that moved. “Didn’t have to con anyone sir. I just told my captain you taught me everything you know over a week or two, and he shrugged and went back to ogling Sonya Kane.”

  Milo nodded and ignored the jab at his six-month course. “Seems about right. What’s this I hear about a jail break from your house? This isn’t the Tibetan front where you can let people come and go you know.”

  Carter could let a lot of things slide, but not when his integrity came into question. The dire look he gave Milo sent a chill from head to toe.

  “The escape occurred when the three prisoners were being transferred from here to Big Top. It was on BOPs watch, not mine, sir. The transfer itself looked fishy to me, but those decisions are above my paygrade.”

  Although just down the road, the civilian-run United States Penitentiary wasn’t under military jurisdiction. The Bureau of Prisons controlled that installation, as well as a few others in the area, though not nearly to the same standards.

  “Fishy how Carter? And please, you can drop the ‘sir’ rigamarole.”

  “I give respect where it is due, sir,” Carter admitted with a sheepish grin. “For starters, the transfer was fishy because, as far as I could tell, Watson, Powell, and Hyde should never have been sent here in the first place. None of their charges appeared to be military related, nor did maximum security seem warranted in any of their cases, sir.”

  Milo cradled his chin in his hand, similar in a way to The Thinker statue in Paris; a habit that had been the source of relentless criticism throughout his adult life. He noticed Carter staring and smirking so he adjusted his posture.

  “So… you know their charges? Are you able to provide them to me? Takbrite said they were classified, which didn’t sit well with me.”

  “Classified? To a Marshal? That sir is surprising. Watson became a government contractor after his time with the SEALS. He went off the radar on mission in Eastern Europe somewhere for a few days; when he resurfaced he was charged with breach of contract and selling military secrets.

  “Powell was on terminal leave and got picked up for DUI. Hyde had just been given an other-than-honorable discharge for statutory rape of an officer’s daughter. Those would fall under Articles 106, 111, and 120 respectively sir, but none were filed through the Uniform Code of Military Justice. I checked their paperwork myself, sir.”

  “Thorough as usual Carter,” Milo mused as his hand briefly drifted back to his chin. Jacen was right; none of those cases should’ve automatically been sent to prison, particularly Leavenworth’s unique take on maximum-security detention.

  “Carter, I’ve reviewed their service records, but they’d been severely redacted. Is there some connection between these three men that isn’t immediately apparent on file? Their collaboration seems awfully convenient to me.”

  “Couldn’t say sir, other than maybe their advanced training. They all served on one special team or another. At least that’s what the other investigator pointed out, but I don’t think he intended for me to hear that.”

  “Yes, perhaps that’s the common denominator… Wait. What other investigator?” Milo asked, looking up at Carter for the first time in a few moments.

  “The CID investigator. I believe he said his name was Karrde, spelled with a K and double R he deliberately pointed out. He was supposed to meet you here but arrived just before you did. Apologies for not mentioning it sooner sir.”

  “Damn! How’d he get here so fast? Guess I’m not the only one not keen on this arrangement. Where’s he gotten off to?”

  “I don’t have an answer to your first question sir, but he apparently already knew a lot of the intel you didn’t. He’s likely talking to BOP about their version of events as we speak, just up the way there as you’re well aware.”

  Milo slumped in his stance somewhat. The revelation of being two steps behind in less than two hours of getting assigned to a case was not what he would call starting out on the right foot. The case file claimed Karrde was tasked out of a base in Nevada. The only way he could’ve arrived before him is if Karrde knew about the escape long before he did. Equal partnership indeed, he scoffed.

  “Copy that. I guess there’s some catching up to be done here, so I’d better get to it. Good to see you again Jacen. Keep up the good fight Sarge.”

  “Will do sir. Let me know if I can be of any more assistance.” Carter snapped to attention and gave one more salute before spinning on his heel and heading back inside.”

  Chapter Three: New Enemies

  Milo jumped into his Stude and raced the six kilometers to the BOP office down the road. He made it to their landing pad in a few minutes, but it was plenty of time for his suspicions to grow. The case couldn’t be further from proper procedure, by his reckoning at least. He also began to wonder how the other teams between the Marshals and CID were faring. Although he didn’t know the other deputies, he had worked with people from their respective field offices, and intended to check in with them about their thoughts on his current situation, if time permitted.

  Then there was the CID half of the task force. Though officially titled Criminal Investigation Command, most still referred to the investigative wing of the Army’s active duty and civilian-run organization as the CID. Army special agents were upstanding investigators, for all things Army related, but they didn’t typically follow cases in the traditional sense. Those duties were often left to other agencies, or at least they used to be.

  As he exited the car, his mind wondered where this Agent Karrde thought he was going alone and out of his element. He approached the BOP penitentiary, known as Big Top, but the imposing, domed structure of its namesake had long been replaced by a less majestic building of the standard featureless modern design. A man with obvious military bearing, but trying very hard to hide it, was rushing out the darkened glass doors of the visitor’s entrance. He was wearing a utilitarian light blue mock turtleneck sweater with grey business slacks, which had nearly hidden pockets along the sides. His tan, half-trench mackintosh swayed behind him like a cape, and he was long past caring what his hazel hair looked like.

  “Where’s the fire pal?” Milo asked, deliberately standing in the other’s way. The man was so focused on his flex tablet that they nearly collided.

  “Ah! What? Do you mind? I have some fugitives to track down before one of you ne’er-do-wells lose them or get them killed.”

  There’s a term you don’t hear every day, Milo mused. “Huh, small world, I’m here for the exact same reason. Deputy Marshal Durron. I just came from USDB to find an Agent Karrde from Army CID. Can you point me in his, or her, direction?”

  The slightly shorter man, with light blue eyes to almost perfectly match his sweater, gave Milo a confused look, then one of abashed suspicion. “That would be me; though I’m not going to point at myself. Will Karrde. I gather that means you’re with me Milton. So let’s get move… What’s that look for?”

  “First, the name’s Milo, not Milton. Second, the look was just me thinking about all the names you were probably called growing up.”

  Karrde gave Milo a stern glare. “What makes you think I grew up?”

  Yeah, I can work with this guy, Milo thought. “So where we off to chief?”

  Another strange glance from Will. “I’ll fill y
ou in once we’re in the air. Hop in, we’ll take my… Wait. Is that your Sky Hawk over there?”

  Milo peered over at the dark blue government issued vehicle and grinned. “Why yes it is. I won it in a contest put on by the Legion.”

  “Of course you did,” Karrde responded in the same suspicious manner many people did about the Studebaker. “No matter; you drive.”

  ~

  The gleaming, silver mist-colored Studebaker lifted off and jetted due west, away from the sun in the cloudless morning sky. A motionless figure, seated in a black Citroën Aircross, watched the sleek vehicle until it had disappeared into the hazy blue from the southern edge of the prison’s visitor parking lot. The shadow of a person knew where they were going, and why, but didn’t want to spook them by suspecting a tail too soon. When a plan such as this is set in motion, most people in a similar position would simply sit back and watch, manipulating probabilities every so often to further their amusement. But this wasn’t one of those plans. Eventually, direct interference would have to be undertaken, forcing events to become treacherously unpredictable. That moment was a long way off however; at least that was the current forecast. The timetable depended entirely on those two federal agents, who were likely halfway to their next clue. It was time to go. Not after the two men, but several steps ahead of them. If they were any good at their jobs, they wouldn’t need another clue until the next logical step -- a face-to-face encounter.

  ~

  The forty-minute trek west had been a mostly unproductive one. Once Milo was able to get anything out of Karrde, unrelated to his car that is, he learned the BOP transport vehicle their escapees were in was located just outside of Colorado Springs. There was still time in the journey to put a few pieces together, before his passenger clammed up again. Milo just had to prod a little more forcefully until he struck a nerve.

  “Do any of our fugitives have a connection to Peterson Air Force Base, or Cheyenne Mountain?” Milo asked in an attempt to keep Karrde focused.

  Special Agent Will Karrde was back to burying his face into his flex tablet. “If memory serves, Hyde was with Space Command before his other-than-honorable discharge. I believe he was on the Colonial Response Force during the Mars colony riot. I’m not sure about that though. What does his service record say?”

  “Couldn’t tell you,” Milo answered with some frustration seeping through. “I only skimmed the records I received, but they were so redacted and edited by Takbrite’s people he might as well have not sent them at all. Why do I get the feeling I’m being sand-bagged here?”

  Will jerked his head to regard Milo. He stared at him intently for several seconds before answering. “Probably because you are, Deputy Durron. I’ve been blocked requesting records through DOD at every turn that might prove helpful, and there’s little doubt Takbrite is personally responsible for that obstruction. Also, and I’m sure it comes as no surprise, BOP is being completely uncooperative. All my info comes from a series of strings I had to pull to even get started.”

  Milo sighed, realizing he’s more in the dark than he thought. “That’s all well and good, but where does that leave us? Are you out of strings, and do I get a buy-in on any of them, now that we’re working together on this?”

  “I suppose that leaves us exactly where we are right now; following our only lead that will hopefully point us toward the next one,” Will countered defensively as he turned toward the window. “That said, I’m afraid my sources are confidential… for now. I’m just as uncomfortable about this arrangement as you are Deputy Durron. We’ll just have to trust each other.”

  Milo canted his head contemptuously to respond, but kept his pessimistic comments to himself, on the one rare occasion he was able to do so. Karrde couldn’t possibly expect him to trust the man in the thirty minutes they’d known each other. Professional courtesy was one thing, trust was something else entirely.

  They approached the coordinates of the misappropriated prison vehicle. It was remarkably well hidden, considering it had practically crashed on its right side only a few meters from a public highway in light brush. Milo passed over the boxy, unmarked transport van before deciding on a spot to land. As the engine shut down, he turned to give Will an askance look.

  “Right,” Karrde said scanning the area. “Where the hell is everybody?” The wooded hollow, where the transport made what appeared to be an uncontrolled landing, was completely deserted. Just two intrepid investigators regarding a partially camouflaged government van next to a quiet asphalt thoroughfare was all that occupied the serene space. In another context, Milo considered, the place could easily become a romantic tryst site.

  “Where did the intel about this vehicle’s location come from again?” Milo asked with suspicion, and a touch of sarcasm.

  Will scoffed but didn’t look toward Milo when he answered. “NORAD cued me in actually. They reported a low flying, fast-moving vehicle headed west trying to stay below radar. Those guys… they had to know that modern radar and listening networks can spot a literal fly on the wall.”

  “Not quite what I’m asking Karrde,” Milo accused. The North American Aerospace Defense Command has been guarding the skies over the US and Canada since the mid-1960s. They see practically everything airborne on the continent, but they also don’t keep many people on speed-dial either.

  “Your cryptic sarcasm is no match for my jaded witticisms,” Will replied with a smirk. “Besides, we’re practically in NORAD’s backyard. You can even see Cheyenne from here. Not a stretch of the imagination to assume this was our wayward transport.”

  He had a point, Milo conceded. But that still didn’t explain how Karrde got that report so quickly. “I’ll call a tech team out here. No offense, but I have more faith in our people’s equipment and experience than CID’s. Besides, I don’t think this sort of evidence collection and processing is your ilk’s forte anyway.”

  “None taken. I was going to suggest that very thing actually. In the meantime we’ll have to figure out who gave them a ride from here. The transport appears to still be functional, for the most part. This hollow might’ve been just a rendezvous point; a somewhat popular one by the looks of it. They could be to Denver by now.”

  “Well, you said Hyde’s last duty station was here right?” Milo deduced, as his hand came back up to his chin. “And his arrest and subsequent discharge was brought on by statutory rape allegations from a General… If I were a betting man, I’d wager that young lady will know at least something about this situation.”

  Will nodded his head in amusement. “I’ll take that bet, unless there’s some nonsensical hook attached to it.”

  “What’s the problem Karrde, afraid you might teach me something in the process?” Milo asked challengingly, crossing his arms.

  “Very well. How about… the terms are for currency to suit the culture we live in; data. Loser reveals a source of the victor’s choice.”

  “What could I possibly know that you don’t at this point?”

  “For starters, the details of Hyde’s arrest. It’s not on any of the reports I’ve read. In fact, I didn’t know it was statutory rape. Just assumed it was the regular variety.

  “In that case, deal,” Milo confidently responded as he extended his hand. Will promptly grasped it and shook firmly. “It’d probably be safer for me to bet with actual money, but prepare to have some names ready Karrde. She can’t be far. Generals tend to live close to their posts.”

  Chapter Four: Betrothed

  Jaina Isard, seventeen-year-old daughter of General Joben Isard, resided at the family estate in Manitou Springs, according to Air Force records. The Isard family created quite the dynasty within the AF, particularly in the multiple bases of the region.

  After graduating from the Air Force Academy just north of Colorado Springs, Joben was able to pick wherever he wanted to serve. To the surprise of everyone who knew him, Joben decided to take a captain position at NORAD; a post with little advancement opportunity. Not a year later, he su
rprised everyone again when he announced the creation of Space Command’s elite Colonial Response Force. The CRF was promptly put in charge of securing the many fledgling colonies in the solar system and beyond, to protect and defend against situations like the riots that had befallen one of the lunar stations.

  Making rank came very easy for him after that. Once he became a senior colonel, well on his way to a one-star general, he had bid for and was granted the prestigious position of Commandant of the Academy. The man chose to make the military his life, so he shocked the military world a third time when articles began to arise about him not only taking the time to meet a woman from an affluent family and marry her, but also having three, high-achieving children in what seemed like too short a time to accomplish those admirable feats. The least surprising part of his story however, was that General Isard was very protective of his youngest child and only daughter, Jaina. Reading between the lines of the file attached to Milo’s task force documents, the General’s response when he discovered who his daughter was dating seemed akin to calling in Special Forces to retrieve a lost dog.

  The two investigators were setting down in the front courtyard of the spacious Isard estate when Will realized he had no plan, which could quickly reach uncomfortable levels given the high profile of the family whose door they were primed to knock on. Milo noticed the look of near panic on his partner’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking. I actually have a teenage daughter, so hopefully they’ll have something in com… mon.”

  His train of thought was interrupted by a very tall, auburn-haired girl running out the front door in tears. Will rolled up his flex tablet at the sound and the two men exchanged puzzled glances. They exited the car in haste, not knowing the reason she was fleeing from her stately home in such a distressed manner.

  “They took it!” The girl cried in a sob. “They stole my car and threatened to kill me if I told anyone they were here!”