Martin Sobleski would be there, as would Colonel Milton, who the admiral would suggest as an excellent candidate to be put in charge of the counterplot they were proposing. They were hoping that this would have the double benefit of getting their man in place to pursue their goals while also appeasing General Pickler by giving the colonel, and thus the air force, proxy control of the project. That was the plan.

Neal would also be in attendance at the meeting and would support the various aspects of the plan as a seemingly disinterested third party, with the additional role of offering up some seemingly innocuous suggestions that would help them achieve some of their other goals.

Standing in the foyer of his Georgetown home, Neal grabbed his portfolio of documents, which was carefully filtered to include only that information that might support their case, and stepped out of his front door to catch the bus across town.

He locked the door behind, activated the alarm system, and went through his checklist in his mind: keys, standard cell phone, the correct ID and cards. No additional IDs or cards, and no gun, he was, after all, going to the Pentagon. After a moment’s reflection, he decided he was ready and set off down the street.

Shahim was crouched amongst the branches of a small bush in the front garden of the building across the street. He had been there, perfectly still, for the past eight hours. In Shahim’s mind, he used the satellites bird’s eye to watch Neal walk down the street, waiting in perfect silence until the human had boarded his bus and it had moved off from the stop. Shahim’s legs then smoothly extended, his joints not showing the slightest fatigue at being bent for so long, and he emerged from the bush and walked slowly and deliberately up to Neal’s front door.