Puller said, “Sir, I like where I am. I like the way I got there. And it’s a moot point now. It is what it is.”
“I guess it is, Puller. I guess it is. Some might call you an underachiever.”
“Maybe it’s a character flaw, but I’ve never cared about what people call me.”
“Heard that too about you.”
Puller eyed the man steadily. “Yes, sir. I guess the case is getting cold out there.”
The man glanced over at his computer screen. “Then get your gear and head out.”
When White looked back moments later, Puller was already gone.
He’d never even heard the big man leave. White leaned farther back in his squeaky chair. Maybe that was why he had all those medals. You couldn’t kill what you couldn’t see coming.
CHAPTER
5
Sitting on the trunk of his black Army-issued Chevy Malibu, Puller drank one extra-large cup of coffee while he scanned the file under the arc of a streetlight outside CID headquarters. Clustered around here were all the criminal investigative divisions of the military, including NCIS, which had become a hugely popular television show. Puller wished he could solve crimes in sixty minutes each week as his TV counterparts did. In the real world it often took a lot longer, and sometimes you never did get to the truth.
In the background the sounds of gunshots were relentless. The FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team and the Marines trained around the clock with live ammo. Puller was so used to the gunfire that he barely noticed it. He would only react if he hadn’t heard it. Ironically, no shots fired at Quantico meant something was seriously wrong.