Page 104 of Deadly Strain

Stone’s expression didn’t change. “All of you,” he said looking at the members of the A-Team, Marshall, and Grace, “come with me.”

He walked with them to the closest building, the one the team had used as their personal base, and turned to face everyone.

“I’ve had this conversation with Marshall already, but you need to hear it too.” Still, he looked at Marshall, who nodded in return.

“Two years ago, Major, you won the Bronze Star for your actions during an IED attack. During that attack, Joseph Cranston, part of your CASH unit’s escort, broke cover and rushed a child insurgent he believed was going to shoot you.”

“Yes, sir. I saw it happen.”

“What you don’t know,” Stone said as if she hadn’t spoken, “is that sending out a kid like that is a common tactic. Usually, a larger group of men wait for the kid to get close to their target, maybe even get a shot or two off, then rush the target while you’re distracted by the whole kill-a-kid-or-die moral dilemma going on in your head.”

She frowned. How did that change anything?

“Cranston had been ordered to stay where he was. Told in no uncertain words to not break cover, that it was a trap. He disobeyed orders anyway.”

“Because of me.”

“No, because he wasn’t using his head. His CO knew your record, knew you were a crack shot too. You were semi-sheltered by the vehicle, treating the wounded, not out in the open where anyone could pick you off.” Stone sounded even colder than he looked. “Cranston made a decision that killed him.”

Grace couldn’t stop herself from protesting the general’s uncompromising assessment of the event. “I don’t agree, sir. I believe he chose to help in the only way he could. He acted as a distraction for the enemy, one I needed because I hesitated to shoot that boy. I hesitated, and I would have been killed if Joseph Cranston hadn’t drawn the kid’s fire away from me.” She had to blink fast or let the tears in her eyes fall. “He was brave and he should have gotten the medal, not me.”

“You believe that?” Marshall asked into the dead silence following her statement.

She turned to look at him. For the first time since she’d met him, he didn’t look as if he was seconds from erupting. “Yes.”

He stared at her for several moments, then nodded, though his lips quivered. “I didnotorder anyone to fire on your helicopter when you left here. I wanted to. I’d just found the two Marines who were guarding you dead and believed Cutter and his men were responsible.”

“We left them alive and well, if tied up,” Sharp told him. “I’ve got a question. If you didn’t order your men to fire on us, who did? Cutter was killed in that exchange of fire.”

“I don’t know. I ordered everyone to stand down, but someone started shooting, and you know what happens after that. Once the first shot is fired, the battle is started whether you want it or not.”

“You don’t know who took the first shot?” Sharp asked, accusation and disbelief making his tone a blunt instrument.

“No.” Marshall was back to looking angry again.

Someone shot Marshall’s guards, then started the shooting that resulted in Cutter’s death all to create dissention and conflict.

“Someone is working hard to make trouble,” Grace said.

The general didn’t reply verbally, but one eyebrow rose enough that she continued.

“The biological agent that killed the villagers has been confirmed as weaponized anthrax spores. The BRRT believes the village was a test, to see the weapon at work, to gauge our response, and as soon as I left with samples to be confirmed, my helicopter was shot down. We weren’t on the ground for long before extremists arrived and began killing any and all survivors. I don’t believe anyone was supposed to survive that crash.”

“All part of the same attack?” General Stone asked.

“I suspect so.” She turned to Marshall. “Did anyone talk to you about me? Maybe say things to make you believe I was at fault during the incident two years ago?”

Marshall frowned, but didn’t answer. He glanced away, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“When were you notified of the helicopter crash?” she asked him.

“I was told there was a glitch with the radio on the bird, but that it was in the air and on its way to Colonel Maximillian’s lab. I didn’t find out it had crashed until several hours later.”

“Who told you about the glitch?” Sharp asked, his voice rough with anger.

“One of the men who was killed when you escaped.”

“An infiltrator?” Sharp asked.

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