War Hawk: A Tucker Wayne Novel by James Rollins, Grant Blackwood

remember me .
    He dialed Frank’s number, expecting to go to voice mail, but instead a voice with a familiar Alabama twang answered. Tucker smiled, suddenly remembering now that Frank had grown up around these parts. No wonder he ended up at Redstone.
    “Frank,” Tucker said as an introduction, “I think I owe you a drink.”
    After a few minutes of small talk, Tucker soon realized that not only did Frank remember him, but Tucker must’ve made a significant impression on the older sergeant back in Afghanistan. The man also remembered Kane . . . and Abel.
    “And Kane retired with you.” Frank chuckled. “That’s good to hear. You two were always tied at the hip.”
    Without offering any further explanation for the sudden call, Tucker coaxed Frank to meet at a local bar that evening. As he hung up the phone, he let out a long sigh. He glanced over to Kane, who lay on the bed. The shepherd had lifted his head when he heard his name mentioned during the call.
    “Looks like we’re going to meet another old friend.”
    Despite his satisfaction at reconnecting with Frank, Tucker could not dismiss the knot of anxiety at the back of his neck. After abruptly leaving the service, he had strived to leave the past in the past, to let sand cover all the blood and horror, but now he felt himself being drawn back.
    Before a familiar cold sweat could build—which he knew would come if he didn’t do something—he turned his attention to another mystery. He pulled up the photographs of Sandy’s secret workstation and began plugging some of the words scrawled on her whiteboards into Google.
    He didn’t expect to find anything, but he needed to keep his head in the game. He searched one word after the other.
    Odisha was a state in India.
    Scan Rate could refer to any of a number of things.
    Clojure was a computer programming language.
    Turing might be a reference to a WWII-era cryptologist. Alan Turing was the man who broke the German Enigma code, an accomplishment that played an essential part in ending the war.
    But what does he have to do with any of this?
    Tucker continued down the list. All the remaining words seemed related to computer programming or high-level mathematics, except for one. He studied the photograph. Sandy had circled this phrase multiple times on the board: Link 16. A Google search revealed this could be a reference to a secure tactical data network, most often used to communicate with aircraft.
    He stared at the emphatic circles drawn around that citation.
    What was so important about that, Sandy?
    3:45 P . M .
    After hours of futile searching, Tucker finally admitted defeat. He leaned back and stretched the strain out of his spine.
    I need to clear my head .
    Kane shifted up from the bed, likely recognizing his partner’s exhaustion and aggravation.
    “How about some fresh air, buddy?” Tucker called over, earning a happy thump of a tail.
    They left the motel and started driving. After stopping at a burger joint and splitting a cheeseburger and fries with Kane, Tucker drove aimlessly. He mostly wanted to get the lay of the land, to familiarize himself with Huntsville in case he ran into trouble.
    The city was situated in the Tennessee River valley, surrounded on all sides by the Appalachian Mountains. The town itself was a jumble of antebellum mansions mixed with gabled Victorians and smaller saltbox homes lining shaded boulevards. Pedestrians and cars moved at a leisurely pace; no one seemed to be in a hurry.
    Tucker relaxed, driving slower, even stopping to enjoy a few sights. At a big open park, he spent an hour tossing Kane’s red rubber Kong toy; then another hour hiking along a shallow creek, where frogs hopped clear of their path and into the water. Kane bounded after them, splashing through the creek in a futile chase.
    Finally, as the sun sank toward the horizon, stretching long shadows all around, Tucker called in a wet and happy Kane, and they returned to the SUV. Tucker drove a half mile