The Escape Read Online Free PDF

cadence of his voice.
    Pick up your damn game, Bobby.
    “Um, you got Wi-Fi here, shug?” he asked in a twangy voice.
    She shook her head. “Honey, all we got is stuff to eat and drink. You want that Wi-Fi thing, you got to get yourself down to the Starbucks on the corner.”
    “Thanks, shug.”
    He zipped up his jacket all the way and made sure his gun was covered.
    As he passed by the MPs, one of them flicked a gaze his way and nodded.
    Puller drawled, “You boys have a good one.” Then he tacked on, “Go Army.” And then he smiled crookedly.
    The man thanked him with a weary smile and returned to looking over his menu.
    Puller was careful to close the swing door after him so it wouldn’t bang shut and maybe get those MPs to take a second look at him.
    In under a minute he was disappearing into a darkness just about to be broken by the coming Kansas dawn. It was his first daybreak as a free man in a long time.
    It tasted first sweet and then turned to vinegar in his mouth.
    In another thirty seconds he had turned the corner and was out of sight.

Chapter
    5
    J OHN PULLER KNEW something was wrong the minute he stepped off the elevator and onto his father’s ward.
    It was far too quiet.
    Where were his father’s baritone shouts that tended to explode down the hall like mortar rounds, reducing men of iron in uniform to lumps of mush? All he could hear were the normal sounds one associated with a hospital: rubber soles on linoleum, the squeaks of carts and gurneys, the whispers of medicos huddled in corners, visitors coming and going, the occasional shriek of an alarm on a vitals monitor.
    He strode down the corridor, quickening his pace when he saw three men coming out of his father’s room. They weren’t doctors. Two were in their branch’s standard service uniforms, while one wore a suit. One of the uniformed men was Army, the other Air Force. Both were generals. The Air Force guy was a one-star. As Puller quickened his pace and closed the gap, he could read the Air Force guy’s nameplate: Daughtrey. The Army man carried three stars pinned to the epaulets on his shoulders and his plate read Rinehart. Puller recognized the name but couldn’t place him. The collection of decorations on his chest ran nine horizontal rows. He was a big man with his hair shaved close to his scalp. And his nose had been broken, at least once.
    “Excuse me, sirs?” Puller said, coming to attention. He didn’t issue a salute since they were inside and none were under cover, meaning they did not have their caps on.
    They all turned to him.
    Puller eyed the generals and said, “I’m Chief Warrant Officer John Puller Jr. with the 701st CID out of Quantico. I apologize for being out of uniform, but I just got back from a mission in Oklahoma and was given some news I needed to see my father about.”
    “At ease, Puller,” said Rinehart, and Puller relaxed. “You’re not the only visitor your father’s receiving today.”
    “I saw that you were coming out of his room,” Puller noted.
    The suit nodded and then flipped out his ID. Puller read it thoroughly. He liked to know who was in the sandbox with him.
    James Schindler, with the National Security Council.
    Puller had never dealt with anyone from there before. The NSC was a policy group and their people normally didn’t go around investigating things. But these folks were also wired right to the White House. It was heady stuff for a humble chief warrant officer. Then again, if someone wanted to truly intimidate him he would need to have placed a gun muzzle against Puller’s skull. And even that might not be enough.
    Rinehart said, “You received ‘news’? I’m sure it’s the same news that prompted our visit here today.”
    “My brother.”
    Daughtrey nodded. “Your father was not particularly helpful.”
    “That’s because he doesn’t know anything about this. And he has a condition.”
    “Dementia, we were told,” said Schindler.
    Puller said, “It’s beyond