CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Reidigger parked the old truck a short distance from the gated entrance to US Army Garrison Benelux. The location of the small base was technically Brussels, though the capital city proper rose about a half mile in the distance.
Zero inspected the layout from behind his closed window. It was a far cry from the types of military installations he was more accustomed to seeing, places in the desert with twelve-foot-high fences topped with barbed wire, guards armed to the teeth, anti-aircraft weapons always at the ready to stall some threat. The Brussels base was comparatively pleasant, surrounded by a simple chain-link fence, beyond which were grassy fields and paved pathways, stout red barracks, and a beige administrative building which, if he recalled correctly, was whe
