It was more like a windowless office where the desk had been replaced by a cot. Anytime he needed to use the head, he had to wait until one of the guards checked on him, and then he was escorted down the hall.The guards weren’t NCIS, either. They also weren’t members of the contracted federal police force that handled the day-to-day law enforcement on the base. Rather, they were a group of naval personnel under Jenks’s and Wasserman’s command. Or, more accurately, under Forman’s.When he’d first woken up, he’d made a request to see someone from his office. The guard he had talked to had listened but made no promises. So far, no one had shown up.Well, not no one.At just after 7:30 a.m., as Lars had been eating breakfast, the door had opened and Commander Forman had entered.Lars got slowly to his feet and, after a brief pause, saluted. If the commander read any disrespect in the delay, he didn’t acknowledge it.“Don’t let me stop you eating,” Forman said.Lars sat back down, but didn’t touch the food.Forman leaned against the wall near the door and regarded Lars for a moment.
