Chapter 23

December Seventh

General Trevor Miller, USAF, downed a tumbler of Jack Daniels with a grimace. He then quickly refilled it and repeated the exercise, this time using it to wash down a Plavix. Alcohol, in copious quantities, was the only thing that kept the guilt spawned nightmares at bay. Once he deemed himself to be sufficiently numbed, he walked wearily up the steps of his on-base house. He could easily afford a much nicer place off base, but there wasn't any point any more. With his wife gone, all that mattered was getting the job done.

In his bedroom, he readied his service dress uniform for the following day. He allowed his aide to shine his shoes, but he had always preferred to do this himself. He made certain that the numerous ribbons in his rack were in place and then shined each of the eight stars before pinning them, four to a side, on the shoulder boards. When he was finished, he walked over to stare out the window for a moment, but there was rarely anything worth seeing in Omaha, Nebraska.

With a despondent sigh, he set his alarm and crawled beneath the cold covers. His hand reached out to run over the slight depression in the mattress that marked where his wife had slept; where she should still be sleeping. If only he hadn't ... He cut off that line of thought with a grimace. All the remorse and tears in the world couldn't bring her back, and he couldn't afford to spend another sleepless night with nothing but his guilt ridden conscience for company.

Clutching a pillow to his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself into slumber. After a time, with the aid of the booze, he succeeded.

An indeterminable time later, he suddenly came awake when an icy breeze blew across his face. A dark shadow blocked the soft light from the window. It moved closer until he was able to make out a gray haired man with a young Asian woman riding his back like a child.

He tried to reach for the Glock 9mm that he kept in his dresser, but found he couldn't move.

The man came to a stop a few feet from the edge of the bed. The woman, who he could now see was nude, unwrapped her legs from around the man's waist and immediately dropped to all fours on the floor. The man then seated himself on her back and crossed one leg over the other.

Appearing completely at ease, the man said, "Good evening, General Miller, Commander of the United States Strategic Command. My name is Arthur. Do not concern yourself overly much with the paralysis; there is nothing wrong with your body and you have not been drugged. Although it hardly matters at this juncture, I feel that I should tell you that your security is appallingly lax. Reliance on patrols of armed men instead of cameras leaves you vulnerable to my kind.

"I am sure you are asking yourself why I am here. Think of me as a Marine recruiter, except instead of a few good men, I am only looking for one. Let us see if that might be you."

Arthur leaned in close to Trevor's face, his eyes growing ever larger until they encompassed the General's vision. His life seemed to pass before his eyes, and then Arthur leaned back with a disappointed sigh.

"It is a shame about your wife. Were she still alive, I might be able to make use of you. As things are, however, your devotion to your country above all else and the little value you place on your own continued existence make it unlikely that you would be willing to make the compromises that I require, even with suggestions implanted. What a pity."

Arthur stood. The woman immediately jumped up from the floor to reattach herself to his back. He climbed agilely out the window and, clinging effortlessly to the sash with the fingertips of one hand, drew the other down the torn screen, erasing the signs of forced entry. Although no one was touching it, the window closed, and there was a click as the lock engaged.

Arthur lowered himself until his eyes were level with the bottom of the glass, and then looked up to meet the General's still frozen gaze.

Every person has nightmares, phobias and shameful memories that they lock away deep inside their subconscious. Things that should not, must not, be allowed to see the light of day. Terrible things that would threaten the bearer's sanity were they allowed their freedom. Horrible things that most only encounter when they wake up panting with their hearts pounding in their chests, the nightmare already receding to a dim recollection. The General met his at that moment.