“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

“In the town of Three Rivers, Texas, that you kidnapped Javier Abboud, a citizen of Mexico.”

“That’s correct, sir,” she says again, in the same flat tone of voice.

“That you did transport Javier Abboud across state lines.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“That at the public library in Victoria, Texas, you did assault Special Agent Rosaria Vasquez of the CID.”

Only then is there a change, as Cornwall’s voice seems to catch, and then she says, “That’s correct, sir.”

The long list of particulars then finally ends five minutes later, in Beachside, Florida, where it is charged that Captain Amy Cornwall illegally fired a nonregistered weapon within the city limits.

“Yes, that’s correct,” she says.

“And finally,” Colonel Patrick says, “while these alleged offenses were taking place, you, Captain Amy Cornwall, were absent without leave.”

Cornwall changes her response and says, “Well, that’s pretty damn self-evident, isn’t it?”

The civilian men smile, but the Army side of the table is not amused. General Sawyer says, “Captain Cornwall, these are incredibly serious charges. I appreciate your willingness to come forward and accept your responsibility…but this is highly unusual.”

Cornwall says, “Ma’am, it certainly is highly unusual. And I thank you and Colonel Denton for arranging this session. Now, may I ask your indulgence to speak for five minutes?”

General Sawyer says, “Colonel Denton, do you mind?”

His fists are clenched on the table. “No,” he finally says. “Not at all.”

“Good,” Sawyer says. “Captain Cornwall, proceed…and I hope you choose your words carefully, because at this moment, you’re looking at a life sentence in Leavenworth. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you intend to make this statement by yourself and with no counsel?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

General Sawyer says, “Then you may proceed.”

Cornwall says, “Ma’am, all of these events occurred while I was in the process of rescuing my family. And—”

The general gently raps a knuckle on the table. “I’m sorry, Captain, that’s not the Army’s concern. Do you have anything else to say?”

The room is silent. Cornwall’s face looks like it’s been carved out of cold, gray granite.

“You bet your ass I do,” she says. “General.”

CHAPTER 90

CHAPTER 90

MAYBE THE people in this closed and stuffy office think they’re going to intimidate me, but I doubt any of them—with the exception of one—has ever been in a shelter at an FOB in Afghanistan, knowing you’re completely surrounded by enemies who would delight in slitting your throat.

So I have nothing to lose. My career in the Army is about to crash in one big, impressive ball of flame and debris, and the next five minutes will determine whether there’s going to be a surviving parachute or not.