Shattered Sky Read Online Free PDF Page B

her way through the double doors. What had he meant? She had never thought of herself as having a “reputation” among her social circle at West Point. She was attractive, she liked men, and that left her in quite a power position. She could pick and choose her liaisons, always the one to decide the length of any lover’s tenure. But a rep that followed her halfway across the country cast everything in a new light. It made her wonder if her sense of control had been nothing more than a convenient delusion.
    She dined alone in her quarters, then sought Gerritson out. He, too, was alone—in the expansive complex it was hard not to be. He played pool against himself in the rec room.
    â€œWant me to rack ’em up?” Gerritson asked. “Or did you bring your own?”
    Maddy refused to take the bait. “From now on, Lieutenant Gerritson, I suggest we limit our conversations to topics that do not compromise the security of this installation. Any deviation from that mandate, and I’m afraid I’ll have to report it immediately to General Bussard.”
    Gerritson racked up the balls. “Are you going to break, or shall I?”
    Maddy pulled a cue from the wall, refusing to back down from the challenge. She broke, and sank the number one ball. “I graduated fourth in my class at West Point. Did you know that?”
    â€œI do now.”
    â€œWith honors, and high commendations. If that’s the reputation you were referring to, I’m glad it preceded me.”
    â€œIt’s not.”
    She shot the cue ball, and sunk the number two ball, although she was aiming for the seven. “In that case, I have no idea what you were talking about.” But her lie had neither conviction nor substance, and he knew it. She shot again, nicking the cue ball. It zigged wildly, but managed to find the number three ball, which dropped cleanly into a corner pocket.
    â€œNice shot.”
    It was, of course, luck—but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. She made a play at scanning the table for the optimum shot.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter where you aim,” Gerritson sighed, hands in his pockets. “The pattern won’t change. You’ll sink the four ball next.”
    To spite him, she deliberately aimed at the pesky seven ball, only to have it ricochet away from the corner, sideswiping the fourteen, which careened into the nine, which tapped the four ball just hard enough for it to drop into a side pocket.
    â€œSee? No sense playing pool when our guest is still out of his cage,” he said. “The game just doesn’t work.” And although Maddy didn’t quite catch the meaning, it made her feel that the more balls she sank, the greater Gerritson’s victory. So thenext time, she tapped the cue ball just lightly enough to move it a few inches, clattering into a cluster of balls, but without enough momentum to send them anywhere. She stood back, and let him have the table.
    â€œThere are twenty-two men sequestered in this tomb,” Gerritson said, taking his time about shooting. “No contact with the outside world, no phone calls or visitors allowed. Morale gets low under those conditions.” He shot, and sank one of her balls. Number five. He sighed, and back away from the table.
    â€œAre you suggesting that I was brought here just to provide you boys with a little recreation?”
    â€œNo. You were brought here because of your qualifications. But all it takes is one man who knew you at West Point to spread rumors about your social skills. For all I know Bussard planned it that way.”
    She gripped her cue, half believing she would bring it down across the top of his crew-cut head, but she restrained herself.
    â€œAnd why would he do that?”
    Gerritson shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe just to make things interesting around here, maybe to raise morale. Or maybe he’s interested in you himself.”
    She dropped her cue to