Not enough to provoke physically.
Enough to see how he responded to respectful questioning.
Brock smiled again.
This smile had no humor.
“You ask a lot of questions for someone with no rank on her chest.”
Elena resisted the obvious answer.
Instead:
“I like understanding instructions.”
“That right?”
“Yes.”
“Then understand this. Camp Ironwood is not Washington.”
“I noticed.”
A soldier near Elena coughed to hide a reaction.
Hammer heard it.
His face tightened.
He leaned closer to Elena.
“You think you're funny?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Brock stepped back.
For a second Elena believed the confrontation might end.
Then he looked toward Rodriguez.
“Sarge.”
Rodriguez straightened.
“Sir?”
“Toss me a Coke.”
Rodriguez did not move.
Brock pointed toward the cooler beside the vehicle.
“Cold one.”
Rodriguez looked at Elena.
A fraction of a second.
Then back to Brock.
“Sir, perhaps we should get everyone hydrated and—”
“Coke.”
Rodriguez's jaw tightened.
This was important too.
A senior enlisted leader had offered a reasonable alternative.
Brock dismissed it.
Rodriguez opened the cooler.
Several water bottles.
Sports drinks.
Red soda cans.
He selected one.
Then hesitated.
Brock extended his hand.
“Come on.”
Rodriguez tossed it.
Brock caught it.
Condensation covered the aluminum.
He held it against his forehead.
“God, that feels good.”
Nobody spoke.
Elena could feel sweat running beneath her collar.
Brock opened the can.
Psst.
The sound seemed unusually loud.
He took a long drink.
Then smiled toward Elena.
“Thirsty?”
“No, thank you.”
“Really?”
“I have water.”
Brock took another drink.
“Washington people.”
He shook his head.
“Always too good for what everybody else gets.”
Elena watched him carefully.
The sentence had nothing to do with soda.
He was building justification.
People who enjoyed humiliation often needed a story in which the target had somehow earned it.
Brock lifted the can.
“You look hot.”
“So does everyone.”
“Maybe you need cooling down.”
Elena saw Rodriguez stiffen.
She saw two soldiers lower their eyes.
They knew something was coming.
Brock stepped directly in front of her.
Then, without warning, tilted the red can.
Cold soda poured over Elena's hair.
The first splash hit the top of her head.
Then her forehead.
Eyes.
Cheeks.
Dark brown liquid ran down her nose and across her lips.
It soaked into her collar.
Sugar immediately made her skin sticky.
A gasp traveled through the formation.
Elena did not move.
Brock kept pouring.
The can emptied.
One last stream fell from the rim.
Then stopped.
Silence.
Even Brock seemed briefly surprised by what he had done.
But embarrassment in men like him often converted instantly into performance.
He laughed.
Loud.
“There.”
Nobody joined him at first.
He looked toward the soldiers.
A few produced nervous chuckles.
Brock crushed the empty can in one hand.
“Much better.”
Elena continued staring straight ahead.
Soda dripped from her chin.
Brock stepped around her.
“One sweet mess.”
He tapped the crushed aluminum lightly against her forehead.
Once.
Then again.
Tap.
Tap.
Rodriguez moved forward.
“Captain.”
Brock glanced at him.
“What?”
Rodriguez's expression was controlled.
“Enough.”
Something shifted.
For the first time, someone had openly challenged Brock in front of the formation.
Brock turned completely.
“Excuse me?”
Rodriguez held his ground.
“I said that's enough, sir.”
Brock laughed.
“You giving me orders now?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Brock tossed the crushed can near Elena's boots.
Then looked at her.
“Clean yourself up.”
Elena did not move.
“You look pathetic.”
He turned away.
Three steps.
Four.
Elena finally lifted her right hand.
She wiped soda from her eyes.
Blinking twice.
Then she spoke.
“Captain Hammer.”
Brock stopped.
Elena's voice was quiet.
Yet everyone heard it.
Perhaps because nobody else made a sound.
Brock turned.
“What?”
Elena looked directly at him.
“Are you finished?”
His smile disappeared.
“What did you say?”
“You appear to have wanted everyone's attention.”
She glanced toward the formation.
“You have it.”
Then back to him.
“So I'm asking whether you're finished.”
Brock began walking toward her again.
“You really do have a death wish.”
Elena remained still.
“I asked a simple question.”
Brock stopped inches away.
“I can bury your career before dinner.”
That sentence landed differently.
Elena saw Rodriguez's face tighten.
Career retaliation.
Explicit.
Useful.
Brock continued.
“I can put you on duties so miserable you’ll beg Washington to take you back.”
Elena said:
“On what authority?”
Brock stared.
“My authority.”
“What regulation?”
His eyes widened.
“What?”
“What regulation allows a captain to assign punitive duties because someone questioned him?”
Several soldiers looked toward each other.
Brock's face reddened.
“You want regulations?”
“I do.”
“I’ll give you regulations.”
He jabbed one finger toward her chest.
“You have no idea who you're dealing with.”
Elena almost smiled.
The irony was extraordinary.
“No,” she said.
Brock frowned.
“No?”
“I think that's the problem.”
Her hand moved toward her trouser pocket.
Rodriguez knew what was coming.
His posture changed.
Brock noticed the movement and instinctively tensed.
“What are you reaching for?”
Elena slowly removed a small waterproof pouch.
Clear plastic.
Inside were identification credentials.
And four silver stars.
She opened it.
The stars caught the Texas sunlight.
Brock stared.
His mouth opened slightly.
Nobody moved.
Elena took out the identification card first.
Held it where he could read.
VANCE, ELENA M.
Beneath it were the federal command credentials and official appointment.
Brock's face lost color.
His gaze dropped to the silver insignia.
Then returned to Elena.
“That…”
His voice failed.
Elena calmly attached the rank insignia to the front of her fatigues.
One side.
Then the other.
Every movement deliberate.
Rodriguez snapped to attention.
“Admiral!”
The formation reacted almost simultaneously.
Boots shifted.
Spines straightened.
Brock did not move.
He looked as though the earth beneath him had disappeared.
Elena wiped another line of soda from her cheek.
“My name is Rear Admiral Elena Vance.”
Brock swallowed.
“Ma’am, I…”
She raised one hand.
He stopped.