The aircraft carrying Myles took a circuitous route to its next destination, 
with a refueling stop at one small airport, followed by a flight to another 
small airport that just happened to be within a short drive of Freehold Mike 
Charlie.  Another nondescript car was waiting.  Myles had modified his 
disguise during the flight, and now looked like a young businessman in a 
dark suit, albeit with rather long hair.  From a distance the hair would 
look real, and the sunglasses further helped hide his identity.  The guards 
had no problem identifying him, however, as he passed through the main 
entrance of the Freehold.  Of course, he also had the identity token and 
the current password, and a finger print scan completed the entry process.

Mike Charlie had grown considerably in the twenty-one years since it was 
founded.  The small 160-acre farm had been expanded to several times is 
original size, as over 800 acres of adjoining properties had been added.  
The fact that Mike Charlie was quite wealthy made it possible to make the 
nearby landowners offers too lucrative to refuse.  And one of the reasons 
Mike Charlie was wealthy was that Myles and a number of other men with the 
millions to fund it.  

Sir Walter was another one of those men, and he was waiting for Myles and 
his comrades-in-arms to arrive.  He watched from a window on the top floor 
of the converted grain silo, one of many collected from local farms and 
reassembled into a forest of round towers near the center of the community.  
Most of the buildings were inexpensive all-metal construction, with 
extensive use of materials recycled from demolished buildins.  The overall 
effect was that of a rather low-cost operation, and it was.  Money wasn't 
wasted on appearance or luxury.  Of course, only insiders knew about the 
extensive system of underground chambers and tunnels connecting them, and 
many other secrets of the Freehold.

Myles stopped at a desk in the reception area.  A serious-looking young lady, 
wearing an outfit that resembled a military uniform, greeted him.  "Have the 
others arrived?" Myles asked.  

"Not yet, Myles", she replied.  "Both of them should be here within a few 
minutes.  Shall I inform Sir Walter of your arrival?"

"I'm sure he knows", said Myles.  "I'm pretty sure he was watching from 
upstairs"

"You're probably right".  She smiled slightly, looked at her computer screen.  
"It looks like we have an arrival", and after a brief pause.  "Yes, Glen just 
passed through the gate"

"I'll wait here" said Myles.  He wanted a cigar, but didn't smoke indoors, 
even at home.  He fingered the small pouch in the pocket of his suit jacket, 
turned to look out the door.  A car was entering the parking area, and stopped 
near the entrance.  Glenn Miller exited and approached the door.  Like Myles, 
he was slightly disguised, just enough to throw off the casual observer.  He 
entered and greeted Myles and the receptionist.  

"Scott should be just behind me" he said.  "Want to wait and go up together?"

"Yeah" Myles replied.  

"Good idea", said Glenn.  He didn't add that he found being alone with Sir 
Walter unnerving.  Perhaps it was the generational difference, but likely it 
was more.  And of course he wouldn't say it here.  The young woman at the 
desk was absolutely trustworthy in terms of loyalty and reliability, else 
she would not be there.  But sharing personal opinions in the presence of 
others wasn't wise.  After a few minutes another car arrived and delivered 
Scott Summers.  They crossed the lobby to the elevator and selected the fourth 
floor.

---------------------------------------- * ----------------------------------------

Sir Walter greeted them in the foyer of his office.  He had no secretary or 
other assistant.  Unusual, but then he was an unusual man.  Myles thought he 
seemed younger every time he saw him.  Over two decades ago, when they first 
met, he seemed an older man, probably mid-sixties, not in very good shape and 
walking with a cane, and not very well at that.  He was slimmer now, and used 
the cane very little.  His carriage was that of a much younger man, and while 
his face did not look younger it also did not show the twenty additional 
years.  On the short side, about five seven, Myles figured, nearly bald.  
The little remaining hair was grey and cut short.  There had been a beard at 
times, but not lately.  His eyes were a warm, dark green.  He smiled readily, 
but his expression betrayed more weariness than his body ever did.

The hand-clasping greeting prevalent in society at large had been dispensed 
with at the outset of the the establishment of the Freeholds.  A modest bow 
replaced it among members, usually little more than a slight inclination of 
the head, particularly among equals or near equals.  Sir Walter did so as he 
approached, and the three reciprocated.  With a sweeping gesture of his right 
hand he ushered them into the office and bade them be seated, while he assumed 
his own seat.  The desk was not large, and did not impose much of a 
psychological barrier to guests.

"Gentlmen", he said, "as someone once said, the die is cast.  While we hope 
our motives are more pure than those of Caesar, the gravity of our actions is 
certainly no less than his. There is no way they will let this pass."

"To comment on your performance would be unpleasant for all of us.  While you 
performed your missions flawlessly, no sane person wants to kill their fellow 
human beings.  The fact that they thoroughly deserved it and that the world is 
a better place without them in no way lessens the burden we carry.

"While there is no way to connect these acts to us, they will not bother with 
investigation and proof.  They haven't bothered to do that for a long time, 
and justice has no meaning to them.  Which is why we are here.

"All we can do is be prepared.  I thank you, and all our comrades thank you, 
even though most of them have no idea who you are.  We will keep you updated 
as events progress.  That is all I have for now.  Again, thank you.  Be safe."

As the three rose to go, Sir Walter added "Myles, I need just a moment with 
you before you go."

Myles felt the tentacles of the dark weight inside him spread throughout his 
body.  This was not normal.

"Just two things" said Sir Walter.  "There is some news about Atlantis.  Just 
some increased seismic activity, not notable enough for the news, outside of 
scientific specialties.  However, it seems to be in line with our projections.

"And, you should probably get home quickly.  Sarah is waiting for you, and 
sent a message by your security chief that she needs to see you."

"Thanks, Sir Walter" said Myles.  Good news, bad news, he thought as he left 
the office.  Whatever it was, calling Sarah wasn't a good idea.  Very likely 
their converstaions would be monitored at some point, as Sarah didn't have 
a dark phone, or even know what one was.

A car was waiting at the entrance, and before long was back at the airport, 
boarding the plane for the flight home.  As he travelled the convoluted 
course back home, he wondered what could be wrong.  Sarah lived a relatively 
carefree and uneventful life - what could have happened to have her return 
so soon?

The unease was not going to go away until he knew, and the series of 
diversionary flights and automobile rides made it a miserable trip.  At 
last, however, he was back at the beginning point of the journey.  Retrieving
his vehicle from the storage unit, he drove purposefully but within the speed
limit back to his home.

Frank greeted him at the gatehouse.  "Sarah's in the house", he said.  "She
seemed a little upset, but no clue as to why."

"Thanks, Frank," Myles replied.  "We need to crank the readiness level up a
notch.  Nothing definite, just being extra observant."

"Gotcha" said Frank, turning to close the gate as Myles drove away.