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Mark's domicile was a large metal barn of the type used a lot on farms and quite a bit in town. They were cheap and quick to build, and durable. The smaller ones were framed with wooden posts sunk in the ground, larger ones with steel trusses sometimes fastened to concrete piers. Mark's was one of the latter type. It was big, a hundred by sixty feet with high walls that allowed for two floors. The walls were grey and the roof white or a very light tan. A row of windows ran down the sides of the upper floor, but the lower half was featureless except for a row of rollup doors across each end. It was in the middle of a fenced lot about an acre in size, with a variety of vehicles parked here and there. Four shipping containers were lined up against the fence and a couple of large travel trailers were parked at one end. The gate was open and I drove through, parking near the doors at the nearest end. "He lives here?" asked Marianne. "Here and there," I replied. "He gets around a good bit, owns several places. But this is his home base." "I haven't seen his dossier," she said, "but apparently he's someone like you. And Redhawk." "Need to know." With a grin. She's about to know more about more stuff than she probably wants to. A man exited a personnel door in the middle of the row of rollups. I knew it was Mark as soon as he came out. I had't see him in months, but recognized the walk immediately. "Let's go," I said. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, the usual khaki shirt and a gunfighter hat. A silver and turquoise bracelet showed occasionally under the cuff of the right sleeve. I knew the watch on the left wrist was a Rolex Air King. "Long time no see." "Yeah. Keeping me busy." "They'll do that if you let them. What they got you doin' now? Besides tracking me down?" "About it. Figured you knew I was coming." "Heard about White Centaur on the way back," Mark replied. "Who else would they put on it?" "Indeed. This here is my assistant Marianne. Marianne, meet Marcus Ferguson." He nodded politely, waited for me to continue. "Wasn't the first you heard, was it?" "Rumors," he replied. "But I got a message yesterday, said it was a go. I expect you're going to see Redhawk." "Looks that way. Want to go?" "Might as well. Little late to start now though." "Yeah," I replied. "It's a ways, and I don't want to be on the road after dark." "Finding him may be a trick," Mark said. "He could be anywhere on that spread." Redhawk's spread was eight sections of land mostly uninhabited before the war. There were no paved roads and few structures outside of Redhawk's compound and several smaller installations that looked fairly new on the latest satellite shots. A house here and there, sometimes with a barn or other outbuildings might or might be inhabited. Eight square miles is big. "Come on up and have a bite and a drink," Mark said. "We have pretty good accommodations here, and not many visitors." Among the things I didn't need to know and didn't know was the entirety of Mark's work. We'd worked together a couple of times behind the lines and I knew he knew what he was about. He seemed to be keeping a low profile, or as low as Amarillo would let him. Unlike Redhawk, whose commitment was questioned by some. I wasn't one of those some, but wasn't looking forward to trying to get him on board. "He's committed all right," Mark had said once when the subject came up. "After what he went through, saw others going though worse. I guess he has some different ideas about how to get things done." Like us The top floor of the building seemed to be one six thousand square foot room. Or not quite, I saw a row of doors across the far end and several along one side. Some of the space was apparently partitioned off, and here and there were free-standing walls. A young woman, younger than Marianne came from behind one of them and approached. "Helena," Mark said, "meet Harry Flynt and Marianne... I didn't get the last name." "Probably because I didn't give it," I replied. "Campbell," Marianne said. "O'Reilly," Helena offered. "Nice to meet you." Helena was startlingly beautiful. Mark liked beautiful women, but I knew he also liked them smart and tough. A necessity in our business. Still, she put some magazine cover models and actress I've seen to shame, but with enough of the girl-next-door look to be plausible. Not many of those around. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but you never can tell. Marianne doesn't look almost thirty. She was wearing camo cargo pants and a tan T-shirt. And white sneakers. The belt was a roller-buckle military style though. Not the usual khakis. How operational is she? "Helena is assisisting me with a couple of projects," Mark said. "You may be interested. How about that drink?" "Don't break my arm." We followed them to the partition from which Helena had emerged. Behind it was a large conference table, something you would be likely to see in a boardroom. Large padded chairs surrounded it. "Lot of empty offices these days," said Mark. "Surplus of furniture." There were a lot of inoperative businesses in the Republic, the name generally given to the free states in the south. The northwestern group called themselves the People's Alliance, which some of us in the Republic sounded like something like what we were fighting. I supposed communists had given the term 'peoples' a bad reputation. "We were about to break for a snack," Mark said. "Might as well get to it. Come on back and grab a drink." We followed him and Helena around the partition to an enclosed room. It was mostly a kitchen and pantry with the foodstuffs on open shelves. There was a variety of food and drink, most of which would have come Ashdown or another of the nearby towns. A large cabinet contained a variety of supplies for libations. "No beer," Mark said, noticing my glance. "Too much trouble to haul out here." I wasn't much of a beer drinker anyway, usually drinking it only when it was offered by the host. "We just happened to have cooked up some fish last night, lot left over. We'll nuke'em." Helena had placed a large dish in the microwave and was removing some other items from one of the large refrigerators. Mark put a couple of bottles on the counter. E&J brandy and Old Charter. "Still making that stuff?" I asked. "Dunno about California," Mark replied. "That E&J could be several years old, or they may still be making it. Charter is still producing, but of course we're doing better here in the free states keeping things going." California was in pretty bad shape, but liquor production wasn't that important to intel operations. "Brandy's good for me," I said. "Marianne?" "Same here." Mark poured a couple of glasses. "Have a seat in there and we'll get lunch ready. Or whatever it is, getting close to dinner time." It was getting late. Marianne went into the dining area and sat down. Before long Mark came in and distributed plates and silverware along the end of the table and returned to the kitchen. Helena brought in a large plate of fish and went back for another dish. Mark brought in a plate of hush puppies. Marianne was a southern girl, and was familiar with the cuisine. I wondered where Helena was from. She soon returned with a couple of other dishes, and Mark brought in ketchup and tartar sauce, both with Lindseys labels. Lindseys was a small startup in Texas that had become popular. Helena placed a pitcher of tea on the table and went back for glasses. We didn't talk much as we ate. The food was delicious, like you'd get in any decent southern restaurant. They even had sliced red onions. "Fresh fish?" I asked. "Good stuff." "Old fish farm out on 89, you probably passed it. Business is better than ever. Lot of the folks around here have big gardens, sell to the farmers markets over in Ashdown or Conway. Any food production was a good business to be in. The south had it made in that department. The tea was stronger and sweeter than you'd ever get in a restaurant. I didn't know how Marianne liked her tea, but I liked it that way. "Ready to make medicine?" Mark asked as we finished. "Sounds good to me," I replied. We repaired to another area, where another conference table awaited. Guess they got a good supply of office furniture somewhere. This one had a couple of computers and a large whiteboard and video at one end. Some papers here and there. We sat down with our brandies refilled and Mark offered cigars. I took one, but Helena declined, depriving me of the opportunity to see Marianne's reaction had she taken one. Quite a few of the younger women in the Republic smoked, cigarettes and sometimes cigarillos. But always sparingly - most were like me, a couple or three cigarettes a day and a cigar now and then. While Mark and I were getting our sticks lit Helena picked up a remote and activated the video, and turned to one of the computers. A map of the current configuration the part of North America once known as the United States appeared. Kansas. Guess Mark's in on this, as I suspected. "As you can see," Mark said, "we were expecting you." "Going to cut them in two for good," I replied. "I figured they'd want you in." "Yep. And they want Redhawk." "I'd want him too," I said. "We might as well get on with it. You're pretty close here, what's the situation down there?" "We don't hear much. Doesn't mean he's not up to anything - Amarillo has some secrets even from us." "But they sent me to find him," I replied. "Wonder what else he might be up to?" "Beats me. He could be up to anything. Forty minutes by air from the Gulf Coast, lot of traffic through there, they can't keep tabs on all of it." "Offshore connections?" "Yeah." I'd figured on it. Redhawk has an independent streak, and his value lets him exercise it. "What they want from us is demolition work," Mark said. "About the only thing that makes Kansas important is the railroads and highways running across it. The east side will be in trouble when those are cut. Food mostly, and supplies coming in from west coast ports. There are still some power lines running out of there, normally they wouldn't miss them but they're pretty desperate. Regular blackouts outside of DC and some important cities. Lights off for eight to twelve hours every night in some places. And food-wise they're already in bad shape, but for now it's just a matter of people not having much choice in what they eat, we intend to make it so they have even less of their limited menu. "So we'll take down some transmission towers, but that's handled. The teams are in place and waiting for the go signal. What we'll be doing is organizing the destruction of a lot of bridges. Break the railroads and highways in so many places they'll never get them all fixed." "How much interference do we expect?" I asked. "Hard to say. Figuring that in is part of the prepping. We know their resources are limited, and we've held off on any operations there to get them off guard as much as possible. It'll be a matter of not being detected while the charges are being set. We'll be using very few locals to prevent leaks." "That's what you didn't need to know," I said to Marianne. "We're going to be blowing stuff up?" she asked. "If you want to," I replied. "We'll be organizing and planning. Our intel resources have all the data, we'll be responsible for assembling and supplying the teams." "Where does Redhawk fit in?" "He knows Kansas pretty well, and people in the resistance there. He also has custody of something we need for the job." I didn't elaborate and she didn't ask. "Ready to go?" Mark asked. "When you are." "It'll take Redhawk a while to get ready," he said. "We'll head out in the morning." "Follow me," Mark said. "I know where he's likely to be." "Lead on." Mark had an old truck too. A Dodge but newer than the old Power Wagon we'd seen at the store. Late '90s with an extended cab, set up like my Scottsdale, with slightly larger tires. Helena was wearing an old MA-1 jacket and combat boots. She's on the small side but had no trouble swinging up into the cab of the truck. I followed him out the gate and onto the highway 36. After about a mile he turned south onto a gravel road. It was in decent shape, still mushy in places from the rain. I noticed that the utility poles along the road had no wires. Marianne noticed too. "Probably looted in the first months of the war," I told her. "Happened a lot, anywhere the people moved away." Mostly it was the usual opportunistic looting, but there had been a lot of scavenging and hoarding of recycables along with everything else, in expectation of the coming hard times. But the hard times had come to the areas under control of the old regime, as we called it. The Republic and the Alliance had it pretty good, especially with the added benefit of supplying the black markets of the enemy. "What do they do for electricity here," she asked. "There aren't many 'they' here," I replied. "As long as they have fuel they're all right." Not that I had any idea how many 'they' were present in Redhawk's domain, but I didn't expect there were many. I would soon find out how wrong I was. About five or six miles in the road actually improved as we approached a bridge spanning a small creek. From there it was wider and smoother as if from regular maintenance. Even it better times rural roads weren't good at the best of times. "Wonder if Redhawk has his private road maintenace operation," I said. "Beats me," Marianne replied. "Whatever you know about him is more than I do." That wasn't much. I'd met him in Amarillo about a year earlier, heard the talk about him. What he did down here on his spread was a mystery to most, as far as I knew he had few visitors and there was little reason for him to. If Amarillo wanted him they'd find him. In this case by sending someone like me. I guessed the creek was the border of his domain or somewhere close to it. About a mile further on the road ran through a small forest, of what had been one. Now the trees were spaced at fairly regular distances, about twenty feet apart, and the ground under them mostly clear. A couple hundred yards in the trees ended and we were in a large clearing. I guessed it at about forty acres, and it was completely surrounded by trees. In the center was a stack of freight containers, two to three high in places. There must have been fifty to sixty of them. A fence enclosed most of the clearing, about twenty yards or so from the trees. Unlike the chain-link fencing usually encountered in such places this fence was wood, with heavy posts and boards. We followed Mark through the open gate. There were a couple of large metal buildings like the one Mark used as a house, and several smaller ones. A few small cottages were scattered around in one corner, all looking to be of fairly recent construction. Maybe someone should be keeping an eye on him? Mark stopped and dismounted and I did the same, meeting him as he walked back towards me. "I'm guessing this is where he hangs out," Mark said. "But there's a lot of places he could be." "Well," I replied, "he's watching us. He knows who we are. Amarillo seemed certain he'd talk to us." We both turned at the sound of a vehicle. It was the old Power Wagon from the store. As it passed the driver stuck his arm out the window and motioned for us to follow. We got back in our trucks and did so. He stopped at one of the large buildings and dismounted while we parked. It was Redhawk all right. He waited for us to approach, holding a small rifle in his right hand, muzzle downward. The big Ruger was in its usual belt holster. I didn't know if he carried the gun because of his nickname or the other way around, and neither did anyone else I knew. "Nice piece," I said, nodding toward the rifle. He tossed it to me and I caught it. "What I thought," I said, tossing it back. "Don't see many these days." I had one of the old Marlin Camp Carbines in each chambering. Redhawk's was a .45, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had a nine as well. "Handy for walking around," he said. "See an occasional varmint don't need to be here. I'm guessing this group does." Guess if he thinks we're varmints... "Seems you were expecting us," Mark said. "Didn't see you at the store." "In the back room," Redhawk replied. "Amarillo told me before I left to expect you. Didn't say for what, but I can guess. Gettin' muggy out here, might as well get inside." We followed him through the wide double doors into the cavernous building. It was considerably larger than Mark's and the entire lower floor was open. Stairs at each corner led upstairs. Several automobiles were parked inside, from the eighties and nineties. All were clean and looked like new. Redhawk led us up the nearest flight of stairs and into what looked like the lobby of a business. Four swivel chairs behind a counter were empty. Four doorways were equally spaced about twenty feet behind the counter. We followed Redhawk around the counter to one of the doorways. It appeared to extend the length of the building. I wondered surprises he had. Probably quite a few. It was the third door on the left that he opened. They were all unmarked. The room we entered was about twenty by thirty feet and like Mark's meeting room was dominated by a large table surrounded by comfortable-looking swivel chairs. "Grab some seats," he said, taking one at one end for himself. While we arranged ourselves around him he took out a phone and called a number. After a brief conversation he put the phone down. "Big powwow in Amarillo," he said. "Alliance and Republic leaders, figured it was something big. Jawed with Oliver for a few minutes before I left, and he said we're getting close and stay tuned. I figured it was prepping for the finish." "That seems to be the plan," Mark said. "What are you thinking?" The door opened and a young woman entered. Somewhere between Marianne and Helena in age, but that's a guess. You never know. "Ladies and gentlmen, Miss Amelia Baxter," Redhawk announced. "Amelia, this is Mark Fleming and Harry Flynt. I'll let them introduce their associates." We did so, and Marianne and I moved to leave a seat next to Redhawk for Amelia. Mark and Helena had the same idea but she chose the seat I had vacated. "Might as well get started and see how much we can get done before lunch," Redhawk said. "Amelia is cleared for anything I am." Obviously. But have to do the formalities. "Apparently White Centaur is a go," he said, "at least as in it's gonna happen. They want me in, and I'm good with it. This whole thing's gotten a little tiring, and the sooner we get it done the better I'll like it." "You may have a personal interest," said Mark. "What's that?" "Phase 3, or phase 2-A or 2-B, depending on who you ask." "Mopping up?" Redhawk asked. "What I've heard is after the Kansas phase is done, we're going for the capitol within three months. About that I know nothing except the essentials." "Mopping up," Mark said, "would be part of Phase 3, the insurance part." "Go on." "When we hit DC we take out their backups. The ones they've got in hardened sites, in case the a lot of the leaders get killed off. Like in case of nuclear war or whatever disaster they used to plan for. Some of them are in the northeast but a few are on the west coast and some places well away from DC. Apparently a fair number of them have been located and they get hit at the same time." "No reason I should be in on that." "Daniel Mcintyre?" asked Mark. I knew something about McIntyre. All bad. "I figured he was dead," Redhawk replied. "Hadn't heard about him in a while." "He isn't. He's the chief of staff for the vice president. Anything happens to the big cheese, he's not just in the inner circle, he's pretty much in charge. Bishop is not just a fool, he's a weak fool that does stupid things to prove how tough he is. Or orders someone else to do them." "And McIntyre's the one that gets them done." Redhawk had a grim look. I knew about some of McIntyre's exploits, some serious nastiness. Which bit of nasty hit someone close to Red? "Apparently our Central Command has Bishop nailed down, and where he is McIntyre is." "All right, I'm in." Redhawk said. "Figured you would be," Mark said. "But you know you won't be on the ground. We need your expertise in some things, and some assets." "You got'em." "Phase 1 you've already guessed," said Mark. "Kansas is being taken off the board." We were looking at a map much like the one in Mark's office. Kansas was highlighted with a light yellow background, the highways and rail lines and a few cities were the only features. And Mark apparently needed to know a lot more than I did. I wondered what kind of game was being played back in Amarillo. "Easy enough if you have the men and materiel," Redhawk replied. "What's my contribution?" "Both." There were rumors Redhawk had plenty of both, but whether here or somewhere else wasn't known. I guessed he could have quite a bit hidden here, since it was off limits by orders from Amarillo. "How much of both?" "If you have a couple dozen good ops it will help. We'll be using a lot of locals for the kind of stuff they can handle, but team leaders are needed. We could swing it with what's available, but the insurance would be nice. And some coin. Bribes are always necessary, and the promise of more after the job is done helps. And some stuff that goes bang in a big way." "It's about over anyway," Redhawk said, "and if I can get close to McIntyre it's worth quite a lot. What kind of bang stuff?" "C4 is good. And dynamite. We figure on taking down as many small railroad bridges as possible. The ones on wooden posts." "Got quite a bit of both. As for personnel, I'll have to check." "To see if you've got them?" "To see if they want to play," Redhawk replied. "Some of my associates aren't... I'll check." "Atlantis?" asked Mark. Atlantis? They don't even talk about it in Amarillo. I wouldn't know if I didn't stick my nose a lot of places I shouldn't. Wonder of Mark needs to know about that too. "Yeah. Like I said, this war is about over. Phase 2 or 3, whatever, how long after we do this?" "They're figuring on three months or so," Mark replied. "It'll depend on the effect, but they can't hold out for long." "Alright, let me know. How does Atlantis figure in from where you sit? They haven't taken a hand so far." "More than you know," said Redhawk. "Several of the Freeholds were Atlantean units. Small ones, personnel-wise, but they had a pretty big impact." "The Freeholds?" "They prefer not to be noticed, so they set up a handful of small operations and joined the League a couple of years back. Some stuff I can't talk about." "What does Atlantis have planned," I asked. "Who they want to win is obvious, but what place does this country have once we have our house in order?" "The majority of Atlanteans, and almost all of the leadership, is Americans," Redhawk replied. "That and the fact that they've chosen sides should tell you something. And I'm not authorized to tell you more just now. But their intentions are not bad." Nice to know. "Atlantis prefers to have minimal involvement," Redhawk said, "now and after it's over. If this ends favorably for them - which is to say we win and restore the Republic to its original form, with a few enhancements to prevent this from happening again - they have minimal involvement." "You know much about Atlantis?" I asked Redhawk. "Probably no more than you," he replied. Sure you don't. We know there's traffic to the Gulf Coast from here, no other explanation for it. Neither Mark nor I commented, waiting. "All right, I do know more," Redhawk said after a minute. "Not much, but - and Hawk knows this - they have a couple of agents in here at any given time. They've provided certain assets, and want to keep an eye on things." Makes sense. Let Hawk handle it. Got enough to do now. |
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