comprehend it, Puller, much less deal with it.” “Let’s start small. Give me some

details.” “I spoke with a man named Mack Taubman. He was my mentor.

 

He was the reason I survived my early years in the field. He served his country

in the intelligence field for over forty years and did it better than anyone I

know. He’s retired now, but he was square in the middle of things in the 1980s.”

“Meaning what?” She met his eye. “Mack told me that on the Fort Monroe

installation back then there were some highly classified—some might say

disturbing—research projects going on.” “By the Army?” “You heard of DARPA?” “Of

course,” he said. “They finance some interesting projects.” “Like the one at

Fort Monroe?” “Yes. There was a facility there. A Building Q.” “Sounds like a

James Bond thing, “commented Puller.” “It might have been, actually.” “What does

this have to do my mother?” “I don’t know. All I know is a man I greatly respect

didn’t want to even talk about this in hypotheticals. When I brought up the

murdered women in Williamsburg, I thought Mack was going to have a heart

attack.” “He thinks they were connected to whatever was going on at this

Building Q?” “Yes.” “And what exactly was going on there?” She shook her head.

“Mack either didn’t know or, more likely, did know but wouldn’t tell me. Mack

always took the oath of confidentiality very seriously.” “So you’re telling me

that some government project resulted in the deaths of four innocent women?” “It

could be the case, Puller.” “But it wasn’t like they were injected with some

super-secret new poison as guinea pigs and died from that. They were attacked

and murdered, Knox. By someone!” “I read the reports, Puller. And I’m sitting

right next to you, so you don’t have to shout.” He thumped the dashboard and

looked out the window. “And my mother? How is she connected to this?” “She may