But that was for another day. Putting that seemingly insurmountable task aside for now, the colonel arrived at the door of the general and knocked.

“Colonel, come in,” the general gestured at a seat and waved off the salute of the more junior officer, setting aside some memos on his desk.

“Well, Colonel, what is all this about? Looking for a raise?” the general laughed at his own joke, as he so often did, and Barrett waited for it to subside.

When it finally had, Barrett began, “Sir, thank you for agreeing to see me. As you know, I have been in DC for a short while, since Dr. West’s funeral, in fact.” The general flinched at the reference, but nodded at the colonel to proceed, “Well, sir, I have asked for this meeting to ask for a … favor.”

The general was instantly suspicious. He did not like favors, he did not like owing or being owed. The colonel had never bothered him with personal requests and whining before, and that was why he had kept the man around.

He did not like where this was going.

“General, sir, I hope we have worked together long enough that you know I do not take lightly the mixing of personal wants and the needs of the service. But, this once, I have found that I must ask if it is possible to consider … a move.”

“A move? What move, Colonel? What, from the Array? Impossible. What? Why? Why is this happening?” sputtered the general.

Damn it. I should have been more circumspect, thought Barrett. But no, small talk with General Pickler would only have served to annoy him further. No, you know that it was best this way, thought Barrett. Now, let’s give him the bait as planned and hope he takes it.

“General Pickler, sir, I can’t stress enough that I have never before allowed my personal life to interfere with the air force. The service has always come first. But … well sir, my ex-wife and I are trying to make a fresh start of it.” At the mention of the colonel’s ex-wife, the general balked. He had not even known the colonel was divorced. He would need to kick some intelligence officer firmly in the ass for leaving that out of the colonel’s file.

The colonel went on, “She is living in DC now, we met again while I was visiting, and, well, needless to say, I am not a young man, and we have decided to try to make it work between us.”

The lie pained the colonel more than he had thought it would have. He had protected enough classified information to be well practiced in the art of dissemination, but this was different. Most of all, because seeing Ayala again had indeed reawakened feelings he did not know how to control. Maybe it pained the colonel most because, in many ways, it was not a lie at all.