Sam
Sunrise always woke him, whatever the time of year. Perhaps it was because he was rarely asleep at sunrise but this was one of those
rare times and he meant to enjoy it. Ginger hadn't awakened when his reaction to the sunlight caused him to move.
He carefully rolled over the side of the bed and hit the floor in the pushup position. It was a daily habit and a hundred reps later he stood up.
At fifty-six he had none of the morning pains many other men did but he had been doing his exercise routines for as long as a good many men
he knew had been alive. And the grey beard and hair was cool.
Hell, Ginger was barely over half his age and wasn't in much better shape for her regular workouts and careful diet. She could nearly take
him in a tussle though. Men often don't realize how tough the female physique can be.
Another change in the light, three of the computer screens waking up simultaneously.
Fuck!
Only one man knew how to do that. Hit those three boxes with a wakeup. He went over to the corner of the large bedroom where the twenty foot
corner desk was located. There were a half-dozen computers but Harry could only hit three of them - the other three were air-gapped and accessible
only by cable from inside. A chat window was on top.
CONTACT ME ASAP
Must be important.
Or something Harry thinks is important.
Coffee first.
He put a cup in the Keurig and pushed the button. A pair of frosted cherry Pop-Tarts into the toaster and push down.
He made a quick check of the four entrances and went back for breakfast. Wondered what Harry wanted as he munched the Pop-Tarts and
drank black coffee. Too soon it was over and he went back to the bedroom.
Ginger was awake and sitting up, a strawberry blonde angel with tousled hair in pajamas cross-legged on the bed. Another message.
YOU THERE? THIS IS IMPORTANT.
Alright, alright.
He gave Ginger a quick kiss and sat down at the desk.
"WHATS UP", he typed.
NEED YOU ASAP.
He knows where I am and how long it'll take to get there. It's nearly two hundred miles so I can buy some time with
traffic problems and such. Saying he needs me is good for another hour or so.
'Leaving within the hour." he replied. That would have to do - what was Harry going to do - continue interrupting?
Ginger returned with two cups of coffee.
"Gotta go," he said.
"Yeah, I figured."
"He seems kinda frantic," Sam said.
"That's what worries me," said Ginger.
"What choice do we have?" Sam replied.
"You know," Ginger replied. "Little old me can sit here and hope things somehow work out. But I know too much to do that."
"I'll call you when I know something," Sam said.
A quick shower and getting dressed took a half hour as he was always on alert whether or not he admitted it. Olive cargo pants and matching shirt with
velcro closures on the pocket flaps. The vertical shoulder rig with the long-slide 1911 on one side and a pair of spare magazines on the other. The
Cold Steel kubon in a belt sheath under the holster and Swiss army huntsman in the right pocket with the lighter. Anything else needed would be in the bag.
He picked up the bag and briefcase and went downstairs.
The four-stall garage held an assortment of vehicles. Scotty, the 1982 Chevy Scottsdale, was his favorite daily driver and was a good general-purpose ride. On its fourth engine and third tranny it was
a reliable goto. Yeah, but...
Scotty it is.
The likelihood of interference along the way is low. Scotty it is.
Sam tossed the bags into the back, got in and fired up. Scotty's latest engine was a diesel and a considerable improvement over the old gas-burners. It was a cool day and he let it warm up
a bit.
The garage had doors on both sides so there was never a need to back out - just open the door in front of you and go. There was a good-sized parking area on both sides and one could just
drive around to the driveway.
The driveway was almost a quarter mile of pea gravel chip and seal with a half acre or so of trees around the far end. The trees concealed two small camouflaged guard shacks and the four men on duty there.
Sam stopped between them and lowered the window. Reggie Crawford emerged from the trees, accompanied by a younger man Sam didn't recognize.
"Up early," Reggie said. "Anything big happening?"
"I hope not," Sam replied, "but expect I'm wrong."
Kid's name is Tim Shaver. Came in about two months ago.
"You haven't scared Tim off yet?"
"Nah," Reggie said with a grin. "He's pretty thick-skinned already."
"You haven't said anything good about me around him, have you?"
"You kidding? Something tells me you're gonna be gone a while. We'll look out for Ginger extra
sharp."
"I know you will. If I am gone for a few days she may one or two of her pals over. You know them."
"We'll take care of them. See you later."
He tapped the gas and eased Scotty onto the highway. 195 was a nice new asphalt run a few years old but and the truck traffic that would have normally
wrecked in in a couple of years had been curtailed by the war. A good forty miles and change until he hit US 64 - that was the final segment of a route
he had driven more times than he ever wanted to.
Driving's fine when I want to. Not so much other times.
He plugged a USB stick into the sound system - the only modern part of Scotty. It had the first ten Alan Parsons Project albums on it and would easily cover the
drive to Jericho. He laid the open Commpad on the passenger seat.
Emerald Point was four hours away at fifty-five but three bottlenecks increased that. First was Cherry Valley, population 312 if you believed the sign. Speed limit
dropped to forty-five for just over a mile. Another forty-six miles - again if you believed the signs - was Centerton. Population 12,455 and over four miles of speed zones
going down to thirty-five midway. A town that size took itself seriously and would have speed enforcement. Not that he couldn't defuse any contact that wasn't going well
but he would prefer not to. Usually the Mike Charlie shield did the job but you never knew - he had last drive through there almost a year ago. Another sixty-something
miles to Millerville, population eleven-something thousand - about the same as Centerton. Then another hundred-twenty or so to the perimeter of Emerald Point.
A couple of small rocks from the treads of the tires pinged against the underside as he accelerated to the speed limit and set the cruise. Tap the button on the stereo and
the opening track of Ammonia Avenue began. He had put the tracks on in alphabetical order and on another stick had them in chronological order and either one was good for
a drive or for working at the office.
Cherry Valley was almost thirty miles away. The Commpad beeped and he looked over at it. SARA95 - one of his guardian angels. He punched a button on the dash unit.
"How do SARA?"
"Good as can be," SARA replied.
"Angie?"
"Glad you remember me. It's been a while."
"Yeah. What's up?"
Sam and Angie had a complicated history - never unpleasant and there were some good memories...
"I'm to see you arrive safely," Angie replied "You have a pair of Blacktails watching over you."
The Blacktail was a light attack aircraft similar to the Cessna Dragonfly. A litle bigger and with
a .50 caliber Gatling gun. Like most of the equipment supplied by Atlantis gun and missiles were
copies of American hardware - unsurprising considering the amount of American talent that had fled
to Atlantis and the wealth of the new island nation, an island more than twice the size of Greenland.
And with seemingly unlimited wealth.
He had flown a Blacktail a few times, in the right-hand seat with Angie and a couple of times with an
instructor and a few times in the left-side seat. He shot up some targets with the gun and fired
several missiles at ground targets. It could carry the Atlantean version of the Sidewinder but
air-to-air combat with the Blacktail was theoretical.
"What's my ground support look like?" Sam asked.
"One of them is about five minutes behind you," Angie replied. "White Ford F-150, a grey minivan about ten minutes ahead. They'll
advise us of any potential problems."
"Sounds good," Sam said. "Any bad vibes?"
"None so far. I'm about to circle back - Roger will be coming up behind me."
Roger would be the wingman. He didn't know any pilots named Roger. He settled back and watched the prairie pass.
Tap the cruise and coast down to forty. Cherry Valley probably didn't have a police force or even a city government any more
and the county and state boys weren't in the business of traffic enforcement much these days. If there was a wreck they would
investigate but mostly stayed out of what they weren't invited to.
Cherry Valley didn't look much different from the last time through. He knew there was an INT agent permanently stationed there
and there was a safe house somewhere he didn't need to know. He probably didn't need to know it existed. Whether the local agent
needed to know he was passing through was something else he didn't know but it was likely that he was in case he was needed. The
same went for Centerton and Millerville. There was an airport at Centerton - closed after the regional airport at Brockton and
acquired by the Alliance and was managed by the Charlie Niner freehold. Sam occasionally flew out of there or picked up an arriving
visitor.
The Commpad beeped and he looked over. PMN message. He was almost to the city limits of Centerton and slowed to a stop on the side
of the road. Picked up the Commpad and checked the message.
CAUTION SECTOR SIX. THREAT LEVEL 4.
The rear escort would be closing up and the one in front slowing. He checked his mirrors and saw the white truck behind - the grey van had probably stopped to wait for him.
He tapped the keypad: COPY THAT MAN7. He saw the grey minivan on the roadside a couple of hundred feet back, tapped the gas and turned the wheel and continued.
Nothing seemed out of place as he proceeded through town and resumed cruising speed on the other side. Millerville was another sixty miles with three or four wide spost in the
road depending how one defined wide. The minivan accerated away and the Ford dropped back to the usual intervals. He wondered what Harry wanted.
Angie called to let him know the lead was changing and her replacement came on. Derek - someone he remembered from... where?
A few minutes later the 'pad beeped.
DEREK HERE. LOOKS GOOD TO SECTOR 9.
Sector 9 was past Millerville so apparently no mischief had been detected. Harry's message had been so abrupt there likely wasn't
any chatter about it. Millerville had another safe house and he knew where it was even if he wasn't supposed to - Mary Ann Ellis was
a friend from a ways back and in charge of the operation. He wouldn't mind visiting again someday.
Millerville had eleven traffic lights and he hit the first four on green or about to change. At the fifth he had time to look around and
saw nothing alarming. He had to stop at the next four and the remaining ones were green. Ahead was another eleven miles or so before a
right turn onto County Road 597. There was nothing much beyond the turn before he hit the Emerald Point perimeter.
County Road 597 was another tar and pea-gravel affair on the narrow side with gravel shoulders. Sam slowed Scotty a bit for the slightly
snaky six or so miles and stopped in a grove of trees similar to the one that marked his gate at home. Two men in dark olive BDUs emerged.
He looked right as they approached from the left and saw shadows in the trees - probably a dozen or so in there.
"Nice day for fishing," the one apparently in charge said.
"The red crow says otherwise," Sam replied.
It sounded silly but a small change in either phrase was an alarm and the response would be...
"Welcome back," guy in charge said. "You know the way."
Sam eased Scotty up the slight incline to a pair of posts that marked the entry. There was no need for
a physical barrier - any attackers would be dealt with by the artillery inside and air assault from outside and
the latter was never more than a few minutes away.
Emerald Point headquarters was a moderately unpretentious building for being three stories high. The lowest floor had no windows and the second had
only small ones every twenty feet or so. There were larger ones on the top floor but Sam knew that the biggest ones were on the back. The large parking
lot had four rows of about twenty spaces each but only a dozen or so were occupied. In the back row were four old Army jeeps and two 1970's era Dodge
Power wagons. The Jeeps had come from the Pine Ridge freehold and the trucks from Brushy Lake. Both freeholds had facilities that recycled batches of
old vehicles and supplied other freeholds and the Alliance and probably other resistance organizations.
He parked in the front row and got out. He left his gear in the truck and locked it even though there was no need - not only was it under surveillance
at all times there was no crime in a place like this. An infiltrator maybe but not authorized personnel.
There were a couple of people near the entrance and as he approached he recognized Donald Lawrence. He had met him at the MarArthur freehold a year ago.
The other was Jessica - Donald's daughter.
"Good to see you again," Donald said.
"Likewise," Sam replied. "Y'all in on this?"
"Yeah," Donald replied. "Come on up."
Jessica was thirty-something, had an older brother.
Had. He was killed four or five years ago... a black op took down the Anderson group. Tried to anyway. Jerry, Jessica's brother, had been undercover in there.
Jessica still had that look in her eyes sometimes...
"Good to see you again," she said with a smile. "How's Ginger and things at home?"
"Good as can be," Sam replied. "Depends on what Harry has for us."
Jessica had met Ginger when she and Sam visited the MacArtur freehold. They were about the same age - Ginger was twenty-nine and he figured Jessica to be in her
early thirties - and women just seem to...
"Harry is cautious," Jessica said. "In his position you have to be."
"Yeah."
Maybe it wasn't serious. Maybe it was.
They crossed the lobby, the young woman at the reception desk waited as Sam pressed his finger on the ID pad.
"You know the way," she said. "Go on up."
The elevators had been new the last time Sam was there and had some problems. Everything seemed smooth this time and
a few seconds after entering Sam followed Donald and Jessica out into the corridor. Right and all the way to the end.
Harrold 'Harry' Blackburn was sitting at his desk, if having one's feet up on the desk is sitting. He was facing the door
and didn't bother to move as they entered. He might have been asleep but he knocked the ash from his cigar. Sam let Donald take the lead.
"Nice day," Donald said. "Been outside?"
Harry sat up and set the cigar down. He picked up a coffee cup, looked at and set it down.
"Not since about 0600," he replied. "I took a nap waiting for you to arrive."
"What got you up so early?" Donald asked.
"Douglas Collins."
The cop in prison out in California? What the hell... let Don ask.
"Yesterday," Harry said, "Collins was liberated from the state of California in an intentionally spectacular manner. He is on his way to
Arkansas as we speak."
"Any particular reason?" Donald asked.
"Reason why he was broken out or the reason he's coming here?" Harry asked. "The reason he was busted out is easy - a lot of people all over
are pissed about what they did to him. This was the first good opportunity. As for why he's coming here - who'd think to look here. And
some people here - in Texas anyway - are interested in having him here."
Douglas Collins was a cop in Los Angeles who hadn't joined the exodus that had seen almost all white police leave the big cities and even a lot
of smaller ones. As many years as he had in he may have been hoping to get to retirement without anything bad happening or just hadn't found a
place to go but something bad did happen. Like the guy in Minnesota he had to subdue a violent felon that should have been dead from the stuff
he had in him before he could make any more trouble but he expired a few minutes after they had him cuffed. It was George Floyd all over again
and Collins was promptly run through a kangaroo court and sentenced to twenty to life. At his age the low end was life.
"It's just hitting the mainstream news," Harry continued, "so how much of this will be out there I can't say. Collins was in the infirmary and
was believed to be possibly having a heart attack and was put in an ambulance for transport to a hospital. It was a setup - we have some people inside -
and the ambulance was caught in a convenient traffic jam and he was removed from the ambulance and driven to a safe house a short distance away.
That was about 1400 Pacific yesterday and by 2100 he was out of the city and on his way to a remote airstrip. From there he was flown to another
site east of Phoenix."
"Rawhide," Sam said.
"Correct," Harry replied. "Once we were certain the search was limited to California - that they had no idea he was gone - we sent a plane for him."
"We being..." said Donald.
"We being us - the Alliance. Among other reasons he requested it - he has people here - but he's part of larger plan. He should be arriving this
afternoon..."
Harry moved a mouse around and clicked and typed.
"...just after 1700. You'll pick him up at Centerton - you're familiar with it, Sam."
"That gives us time for lunch," Sam said. "Unless you have something else."
"Lunch is in the usual location," Harry replied looking annoyed, "and the usual time."
Sam glanced at Donald and Jessica - Donald had a faint grin and Jessica had no expression at all.
"That would about now," he said.
As if on cue a door at the end of the big room opened. A young woman about twenty or so emerged.
"Lunch is served," she announced.
Sam remembered her. She had a brother that resembled her without either looking any less of whichever
sex they were - they were twins.
"Let's do it," Harry said.
The table was set and the brother was over at the bar.
Mark and Marie Turner. Bradley Turner's kids - two of them anyway. There were two older boys and a younger girl. The twins disappeared into
the kitchen area.
Several pizzas and a couple of pasta dishes with chips and dip were the lunch - a couple of ice buckets of Heinekin and some sodas were the beverage
choices. Harry briefed them while they ate.
"Don, you and Jessica will go with Team Alpha and Sam will be with Bravo. Each team will have two vehicles and you will be in the second one.
Doug will ride back with Sam. Two men in each lead car and two in each second car - you'll be backseat passenters. You'll be covered by a pair
of Blacktails and a pair of choppers that will be in visual contact at all times. We've got a team in Millerville and Centerton - the airport is
this side of Centerton so you won't go into town but we're keeping it covered.
"If there are any changes in Doug's status you'll be advised - he's about to take off and so will be in the air pretty much the whole time and if
all goes as planned you'll be there in time to see him land. Just pick him up and bring him here."
"What if something doesn't go as planned?" Sam asked.
"Where we're concerned the only thing that wouldn't will be if the plane crashes," Harry replied. "Or for some other reason doesn't arrive. Once our
man is on the ground we're responsible for getting him here. There's no indication thus far that California authorities have any clue that he has
left the state - if that changes you'll be advised."
"Any chatter on this end about anything?" Donald asked.
"Nothing," replied Harry. "On Sam's drive this morning there wasn't a peep. It may be that he isn't known to the locals - he's kept a low profile and
he never turns up in the traffic. Not that much resources seem to be being expended on Emerald Point outside of the installation itself. There are two
agents that we know of - they're in Millerville and monitor our communications and watch the road for visitors. When Sam arrived they sent a brief
message to Little Rock - we haven't decoded it yet but it looks routine.
"You've got about two hours to get ready. Mark and Marie will show you to the staging area. I have to make some calls - I'll be there when you leave."
The staging area proved was a building behind the headquarters - a big metal affair like most. Sam had never been it or most of the buildings.
Four vehicles were parked nose to tail in front - a grey early 2000s Chrysler minivan, a Ford Taurus abut the same age, a white minivan similar
to the first and a white Crown Vic that was probably the newest of the bunch and was at least twenty years old as the last ones were produced in
2011. All were clean but not too clean and most had a minor ding or scuff or two.
Mechanically they would be like new or close to it having been reconditioned in one or more of the resto shops operated by the various groups.
Sam owned one of the minivans and a Ford Taurus and both had considerable performance enhancements. Engaging in chases something to be avoided
but if forced into one the Taurus at least could get one of of a jam or evade capture long enough for backup to arrive. Sam suspected this one
was similarly prepared.
A dozen or so men were standing around as they approached. Four of them came to meet them.
"OK guys," Marie said. "Gerald and Jessica, and Sam. Sam will be riding with Jackson and Reggie in Unit Four, Gerald and Jessica with Bill and Reggie in the
Unit Two. Any questions?"
"I'll be riding with Sam on the way out," Jessica said.
No one said anything, including Gerald.
OK with me but... whatever.
"Channel four is primary," Marie said. "Go to three if situation goes to level three. Six for emergencies. All good?"
Apparently all was good and they got in the cars. Sam and Reggie - one or both - were vaguely familiar. Sam hadn't spent
much time there and didn't know many of the personnel but was confident in Harry's management. Both men were in their
late thirties to early forties and typical - looking something like special forces types and may well have been. Both were
dressed casually in khakis with windbreakers. Jackson was driving and Reggie carried a 10mm Ruger LC in addition to his
Glock. He had a bag that likely had spare magazines and other gear.
Harry arrived
Jessica was wearing jeans, a corduroy shirt with a puffer vest and cowboy boots. What looked like a Springfield Armory
compact XS-M in belt holster. She had put on a red beret with a Mike Charlie shield and a pair of high-dollar Ray-Ban
aviators. They got in the back seat of the Taurus and buckled in. Jackson started the endine and waited as the cars
ahead got underway.
On the highway they spread out to approximately quarter-mile intervals at the speed limit. No doubt their departure had
been logged and reported and a four-car convoy would probably attract some attention. How much? No doubt Harry had
figured it. Sam didn't initiate a conversation guessing that Jessica had some reason to want to be with him.
"How are things at the ranch?" Jessica asked.
"Good as can be," Sam replied. "Why do you call it the ranch?"
I forget something somewhere sometime?
"About a year ago in Amarillo?"
Amarillo a year ago. I didn't remember her from there...
"You and Dad and some guys talking about... some times... anyway you all put away a fair amount
of whiskey and Marti and I walked you to your rooms. Remember Marti?"
"Yeah, maybe... skinny blonde... sorry..."
"A skinny blonde wench you called her, she thought it was hilarious."
"We did drink some that night," Sam said. "War stories will do that. Who's Marti?"
"A friend. She liked you."
"A friend from Missouri?" Sam asked. "You're based up there in the middle of nowhere."
"It's pretty sparsely populated," Jessica replied. "Chillicothe continues to shrink as do most
small towns that aren't close to a city of some size. I get over to Saint Joe about once a week
and down to KC or Springfield - we do business with several people there."
"Guns or gold? Or both?"
"Both, and some other stuff."
"Presumably you have some reason for wanting to make the trip with me," Sam said.
"I wanted to be alone with you for a while," she replied. "I only saw you that one time and
you intrigue me."
"I'm not that interesting, believe me."
"You remind me of my brother."
Jessica MacArthur. What was in the dossier..... in the Army, KIA in '32. Suicide bomber.
"I'm quite a bit older than Jerry would be," Sam said.
"Age only changes people so much," Jessica said. "You seem to be what Jerry would be if he had lived.
I probably shouldn't have...."
"It's all right," said Sam. "A lot of us have lost people close to us. In my case it wasn't a sibling so
I can't know how you feel. I would guess it's more..."
"It is," Jessica said. "Believe me. Jerry was three years older than me and it was just the two of us.
Mom died when we were teenagers and Dad was away a lot - we stayed with his parents a lot and they were good
people and we were happy but it wasn't the same."
"I can get that part," Sam said.
"You were raised by an uncle and aunt," Jessica said. "Yeah, I can see that."
"How'd you come to be looking at my file?"
"Need you ask? People in our position have ways of getting around the rules."
"All right," Sam said. "I saw yours too but that was official business."
"Is... whatever you're doing..."
"Being attracted to a man who reminds me of my brother?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe. Probably."
"It looks like we may be working together for a while," Sam said. "If I could choose the people I work
with it would be hard to find someone I'd like more than you. That work for you?"
"I like it," replied Jessica.
After a few minutes the car slowed and Sam looked out to see the Millerville sign.
"Did Harry referring to Douglas as Doug seem strange?" Jessica asked.
"Yeah. Like there's something more to this but I don't know what it is."
"And whatever it is has something to do with him being brought here?"
"I would suspect so. I guess we'll know soon enough."
From Millerville to the airport outside Centerton was pretty much a straight shot. Twenty minutes later they
were at the gates. They stopped outside and a a couple of minutes later the gates opened and they drove through.
"Is this place manned all the time," Jessica asked.
"There's always a security staff," Sam replied. "About a half dozen men to keep an eye on it and watch for unauthorized visitors.
If they need backup it's just a short distance away at the safe houses. I've flown in and out a few times and picked up visitors
here."
There were just a handful of vehicles in the parking lot and they parked near the terminal building. There were two men in each of
the escort vehicles and two more with Donald and two with Jessica and Sam. One of them went into the terminal with them.
A woman about Jessica's age, wearing the usual khaki outfit, was at a desk.
"Your guest will be arriving shortly," she told them. "They're under ten minutes out. Status is Charley-zero-two all day."
"We'll go out them wait for them," Donald said. C02 was theoretically zero-risk.
"They should taxi up to the gate there," Sam said pointing to an area about forty yards away.
He turned to his driver.
"Can you bring the car over here?" he asked.
"Gotcha," the man replied and returned to the car. Sam looked down the runway through the light mist. A couple of minutes later
he saw the landing lights of a small aircraft. He watched as it touched down and rolled past. The gate was at about the midpoint
of the almost mile-long runway. Jessica came over to join him as the pilot turned and taxied back.
It was a Cessna 340 that looked like one Sam had flown on a couple of times - he wondered if Harry had sent it. If so it would have
been dispatched long before Harry had called him this morning. The airstair opened and a man climbed down and waited to assist a second
passenger.
That should be Collins.
"C'mon," he said to Jessica and walked towards the aircraft.
"How ya doin', Sam?"
It was Randy Carpenter - he'd flown with him a couple of times.
"Thought the plane looked familiar," Sam replied. "How was the trip?"
"We made a fuel stop in Amarillo," Randy replied. "Just a little out of the way but the safest place."
"Doug, this is Sam Boling. I don't know who the lady is."
"Jessica MacArthur," Jessica said. "Nice to meet you. I hope this is Douglas."
"If it isn't somebody's got some explaining to do," Randy said. "Doug, these folks will take good care of you."
"Thanks," Doug replied. "Be safe."
"Will do," Randy replied. "You too."
He climbed back aboard and fired the engines. They watched as he taxied towards the fueling area, Sam appraising his new charge.
He'd seen photos from several years back - some in uniform and others in civvies during the trial.
Forty-seven when it happened, four years in prison. Doesn't look half bad, seems to have stayed in shaped in there. Some guys
to that - the ones that give up don't.
Donald was waiting with some of team just past the gate and Jessica introduced her father and went with him to his car. Sam pointed
to his ride and Doug walked with him to the car and they got in.
"It's a couple of hours," Sam told him. "Have you been briefed?"
"Just the basics," Doug replied. "Up to this point. It seems I'm somewhere in Arkansas."
"Northeast Arkansas," Sam said. "It's a big piece of Alliance territory. Know much about the war?"
"Just what we get in the exercise yard," Doug replied. "There were about three or four guys like me in
for the imaginary crimes they use. Apparently the country is split up in several pieces and I heard about
the Alliance. I'm glad to be here."
"What's the deal with Harry?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that when I'm risking my ass I like to know why."
"If he didn't tell you," Doug said, "I probably shouldn't either."
"OK, got it. Whatever the reason I'm glad you're out - if only to piss off the ones who put you there - and I'll take it up with Harry later. You're
safe here and whatever the deal is the bad times are over for you."
"Thanks," Doug replied. "I need some time."
"You'll have all you need," said Sam. "This place is as close to impenetrable as any can be."
A few silent minutes passed before Doug spoke.
"I was only out of LA a few times for vacations or business in Sacramento or somewhere. It's different out here."
"Flyover country they call it," sam said. "The political and other rich people on the coasts. They must not think about how
about everything they eat and whatever comes from or is transported across here."
"That what this is about?"
"Partly," Sam replied. "I'm guessing you know a bit already. If at some point in the near future there is some kind of... insurrection
or civil war or whatever the government power is concentrated in the northeast with another sizable chunk on the west coast. The middle
has a bit with Illinois and Michigan but that would quickly become irrelevant. The fact that everything they eat is produced in or is
transported across that flyover country doesn't seem to matter."
"They're not deep thinkers," Doug replied. "Or very smart for that matter."
"As we knew from the start," Sam said. "Or before. Our plans go back thirty years or more. Don't know if Harry has
let you in on that bit. Anyway if things get hot the country gets shut down - the coasts are cut off and starvation
plays a big part in the outcome."
"You expect a civil war?"
"Who doesn't? The ones in power have been wanting one - believing they want one - for years. Our side has been expecting one and preparing for it."
"What do you think?" Doug asked.
"My guess is we get there," Sam replied. "How soon is another matter. I give it a year or two of what we got how but some say less. It depends on
the other side."
"Whatever it is," Doug said, "I'm glad to be on your side. If nothing else the other side is just plain evil. Stupid, yeah but pure evil."
"I agree," said Sam. "Like about everyone else I watched it, trial and all. The whole time I just wanted to take some people out and kill them and take a long
time about it. The difference between us is that they will do it if they get the chance."
"Imagine how I feel," Doug said.
"Don't want to. Glad you made it through long enough for us to get you out."
"I'm one of the lucky ones," said Doug. "There are a lot of others."
"Yeah. We do what we can when and where we can but it won't ever be enough."
The Commpad buzzed and Sam looked at it.
MILLERVILLE ALL GOOD
He typed back GOTCHA THANKS
"What's that?" Doug asked.
"Proprietary stuff," Sam replied. "Uses the cell network for private talk. There's a couple of aircraft overhead watching us and
the places we go through. There's a handful of agents in these small towns. So far nobody has any idea you're here so no need to worry."
"Agents?"
"Feds. They got most of what they call law enforcement - FBI, U.S. Marshals, ATF, you name it - trying to keep up with us.
That's why they're not much of a threat but we keep track of them."
"You have air cover?"
"We got a lot of stuff you'll like," Sam said. "Depending on how much you need to know of course."
"I'm good with whatever it is," said Doug. "Whatever it is it's got to be better than what I was looking at."
"We're there," Sam said.
They had passed through the gate through which he had driven Scotty a day or so ago. Before Doug could open his door someone else did. He emerged
to see a ring of khaki-uniformed people, most armed.
"We're there," Sam said. "These folks will take care of you. See you later."
Sam joined Donald and Jessica and went into the HQ building and they went up to Harry's office. Harry was as usual sitting with his feet on the desk and seemingly dozing,
a half-smoked cigar in the ashtray.
He did sit up when they entered.
"Good job," he said and sat up. "It seems they don't have a clue Doug is out of California."
"That's it," Sam said.
"What's it?" asked Harry.
"Something I'd forgotten. Duncan Hunter."
"You understand," Harry said, "the reason we prefer if remain as unknown as possible."
"I get it," Sam said. "It's unlikely anyone - on the other side anyway - will make the connection. In any
case getting hold him again even if they know where is isn't gonna happen."
"In case you forgot as well," Harry said to Donald and Jessica, "Duncan Hunters's son defended Doug. It was a lost
cause but we did the best we could. When we finally got the chance to extract him we did."
"We?" Donald asked.
"The Council approved it," Harry replied. "It had to be Top Secret."
"Alright," Sam said. "It's good enough for me to poke them in the eye and it wasn't a big deal. And I get the secrecy."
"After debriefing and a couple of days orientation," Harry said, "I'd appreciate it if you take him to Brushy Lake. Will and Miranda are
expecting him. Can you handle that?"
What kind of question is that? How about do enjoy being gone another three of four days?
"Yeah, lemme call Ginger. What do you figure - a week?"
"A work week," Harry replied. "Five days should do it."
"Don and Jessica going?"
"I'd like them to."
"We've never been there," Donald said. "It's a safe house apparently."
"Among other things," said Harry. "Nathan Johnson is there."
"So that's what happened to him," said Donald. "You kept that close. I know,
need to know."
"Nathan Johnson still there?" Sam asked. "Or do Donald and Jessica not need to know that?"
"They're authorized," Harry replied with an annoyed look, "but there was no need. Nathan is
indeed still there. He works on what the regime calls subversive propaganda. Maybe Doug can
help some - either of them going outside protected space is unlikey."
"He was in the Twelve October deal, wasn't he?" Jessica asked.
"Right," Harry said. "Operation Mystic Cargo. The detention center was in Kentucky and it's not like we don't have that place covered
six ways to Sunday - unfortunately they moved them all to more secure areas afterwards. Sam collected him from a safe house over in
Tennessee - kind of the way he picked Doug up in Arizona - and drove him back here."
"That's cool," Donald said. "We don't need to know know everything we're authorized and I would have never found a need to ask."
"Probably neither of them will leave," Harry said, "until this is all over. There's still a big reward for Nathan and most likely will be
one for Doug. There's no need for you to be at the debriefing so if you want to go home for a couple days I'll let you know when he's
ready to move. Don, if you and Jessica don't want to make that drive there's plenty of room here."
"Sounds good," Donald said. "Jessica?"
"I'm good."
Ginger came out as Sam zipped up the duffel bags. After a hug and a long kiss he picked up bags and walked out to where Scotty was parked. She watched as he
fired up and gave a last wave.
Getting to where I resent being called as rarely as he does. Worrying about Ginger sure but just being away...
He stuck the Commpad in it's place on the dash and drove out. Reggie was at the gate with Jim Barnes. They knew were he was going and how long
he would be gone and waved him through. He pointed Scotty the way he had gone a couple of days earlier