As he reaches for the phone, the door to his private office opens. He looks and sees Major Miles Newley from the Army CID. The major is accompanied by two MP's in dress uniform.
"Shouldn't you salute, Major?" asks the general.
"It wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances, sir," says Miles.
"This had better be good. Failure to show the Army Chief of Staff the proper respect could result in unpleasant assignments."
"I've continued my investigation into the Rick Dawson matter."
"He was already confirmed dead by Fort Irwin's medical staff."
"Yes, sir, he is dead. And they used three different identification methods. I was looking into the circumstances of the case. I found out that the report on the plane crash was buried for some reason. It took me a while to get to the truth. There was sabotage. Somebody arrnaged for the plane to crash and arranged for Rick Dawson to escape."
"What are you getting at, Major?"
"I'll get to the point. I was invesitgating Rick Dawson's background. Apparently, someone sent an assassin after me. This assassin killed a clerk at a psychiatric hospital and set the records room on fire. He then came after me and met a fiery end. We thought he was Dawson, but subsequent events proved him wrong. Dawson also admitted to Carolyn Jansen that someone did help him escape. We managed to identify the assassin. From his actions we already knew he was familiar with the Rick Dawson case. This meant whoever he was working for had access to all the investigation files."
"So find him. I have a busy shcedule."
"He was working for you, sir."
General Millard frowns. "I will not be accused by someone lower than me in my own office!" he yells. "You are dismissed, Major. Leave while you still have a career!"
"We traced no fewer than five calls to his cell phone from your office. He worked for you when you were serving as DCS G-2. General Waldo Thomas Millard, you are under arrest for aiding the abetting the escape of a military prisoner, destruction of military property, obstruction of justice, conspiracy to commit murder, and over one hundred counts of murder."
"Get out of here!" yells the general.
"You have the right to remains silent," says Miles. "You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court-martial. You won't be allowed to retire quietly, not after what you did. You have the right to appoint civilian counsel to represent you."
"You may not know this, Major, but there are higher priorities than your job. We needed men like Dawson. Skilled soldiers who had no reservations on doing whatever it takes to get the job done. Look at the battles we're going to have to fight in the next few years. With his abilities and his cunning and no reservations about playing dirty, he is what we need."
"Cut the bullshit, General!" yells Miles. "Stop hiding behind that uniform of yours to justify your own personal agenda! I've heard it all from everyone I busted. You are no different from them. You are no different from Rick Dawson. You're going to spend the rest of your life in Leavenworth."
"Okay," says General Millard. "I guess there's one thing I have to do."
He then pulls something out from the drawer. Before the MP's could react, a lopud bag is heard. The MP's instinctively draw their Beretta M93R semiautomatic pistols and returns fire.
Miles gets up and looks behind the desk. He sees General Millard slumped on the floor.
Millard takes the Colt revolver and puts the barrel against his temple. He cocks the hammer and pulls the trigger. The firing pin strikes the primer of the cartridge, setting off an explosion. The force of the gunpowder explosion proles a bullet out of the barrel. The bullet strikes and rips through skin, bone, blood vessels, and brain. The bullet comes out of the other end, spraying bits of brain, bone, and blood on the wall.
Miles looks at the man as he lies down dead. He puts his hand to his chest.
He sees blood on his hands.
Then everything becomes blurry- sound, sight, pressure, smell, taste.