Page 50 of Very Special Forces

Sighing,I picked up my phone and called Harris. "Do you have a goat in yourpossession?" I asked.

"I thinkI misheard you."

"A goat.Like a sheep but not." I thought about trying to describe itfurther before I realized I wasn't too sure. Goats were never on myradar.

"Yeah, Iknow what a goat is. No, I don't have one. What's this got to dowith the other thing?"

"I justgot intel that Camp Callihan's mascot was stolen and I wondered ifit had anything to do with you."

Therewas a pause and a cough that sounded like it could have been alaugh. "I might have heard something but I swear it wasn'tme."

"Was itKafsky?"

"No!"

"Can yourepatriate the goat?" I asked.

"Maybe.I'll make a call."

"Isthere any chance someone stole your—"

"Don'tsay it out loud!" warned Harris.

"Did someone steal theyou-know-whatbecause someone at FortCharles stole a goat?" I asked.

"No,that's absurd! Plus, I have it on good authority that the goat wasliberated because someone got their face Sharpie'd on a verydrunken night out in Chester. Anyway, enough about those idiots. Igot those security files. I can't take them off base but can youcome down and have a look? I think there's something you might wantto see."

Ichecked my watch. There was plenty of time between now and thefamily dinner so long as I didn't dawdle. "I can make it. I'll bethere in under an hour."

"Great.I'll meet you at the gate."

I was onthe road within minutes, Jennifer Lopez on the radio, the volumeturned up, and my best sing-along voice, which was a gooddistraction from thinking about goats. Part of me hoped that it wasa simple, childish spat between people who really should have hadbetter things to do. However, I was sure Harris would have admittedit if that were the case. Instead, he intrigued me by wanting toshow me whatever footage he'd found.

Aspromised, he was waiting for me at the gate, this time in uniform,and I was waved through as soon as I produced my ID. I pulled overand he hopped into the passenger side. "Go directly ahead," he toldme, pointing in case I got confused about which way “directlyahead” was. To be fair, back in boot camp, I demonstrated poordirectional skills on several occasions.

"How'syour head today?" I asked.

"Alittle sore. How many shots did I do?"

"Six,that I counted."

"Yeah,that sounds right." He adjusted his sunglasses. "Simmons is smittenwith you. He talked about getting a transfer."

"Did youmention I'm happily engaged?"

"I didpoint out the rock on your finger but he was too far gone with thebooze. I doubt he'll remember much."

Ilaughed. "Tell me about the footage from the security feed. Whatdid you find?"

"It'sbetter if I show you. I'm not sure what it is but I think it'ssomething. Pull over here." He pointed to a small empty parkinglot. I pulled in and hopped out, following him into the nearbyhangar. There wasn't a lot of activity going on. Six guys wereplaying cards on a makeshift table in the corner. Two other guyswere talking quietly and a Jeep rolled past us. Harris guided me toa set of metal stairs. I hurried after him and we stepped into adrafty, enclosed office set up with several monitors.

"Iswapped shifts with a guy whose wife just had a baby," explainedHarris. "It gave me chance to look through the footage from whenthe tank disappeared. I can't copy it onto a disk because I don'tknow the password and I don't want to break any laws."

"That'sfine. Show me what you have."

"Okay,here it is." Harris tapped a key and the monitor in front of mecame to life. For a couple of minutes, nothing happened, then afigure strolled into the building and walked over to the corner andreached for something. "That's the key box," explained Harris. "Idon't know if he had a key to it or it was open already, but Ifigure that's how he got the key to the transporter."

"Yoursure this is the guy?"

---