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When Jessica the black tabby got bored with climbing around in his hap and curled up on top of the stack of M-42 crates Sam went into the house to get a drink. 1644 and Maryanne wouldn't be here for another hour. He poured four fingers of Old Charter and two of Beam rye into a large glass and added six fingers of Coke. That left enough room for four ice cubes but since he preferred five he sipped a bit to make room for the additional cube. He lit a Swisher mini and went back out. He got out and seated without awakening Jessica and smoked and drank and watched the sun setting. Maryanne would arrive just about the time it disappeared. He would prefer to not be going anywhere but a call from Harry Harrison meant he was going wherever and whenever Harry asked. Not just because Harry never asked for anything trivial - in fact in Sam's experience would err on the side of caution in most matters. And there was the other thing. They were within two months of being the same age and at sixty-four Sam was at least as good as fifty and maybe forty. Harry would have been but he was the one kicking down the door to get Sam out of the jail at Flatrock. Cuffed in a cell while Harry and a dozen of his men swarmed the place and put paid to the minions of the state to free him. Harry took six slugs and while two of his boys died from fewer Harry would never kick down another door. He would walk with a cane and have chronic pain for the rest of his days. Harry had called about 0430 and Sam rolled out of bed three hours after his last drink of the day. Harry needed him and that was enough. He flicked ash from the Swisher and took another sip. What Harry wanted wouldn't be something frivolous or something from a panic. It was going to be serious. Sam didn't like the prospects but... Jessica woke up and he stood up before she could leap into his lap. The sun was gone and the headlights of an approaching vehicle appeared. Not ready for this but this is here. Sam got up and walked to the edge of the driveway, carrying the B4 bag. Maryanne hit the switch to open the rear gate of the Chevy Trax and he tossed the bag in and got into the passenger side. Stuffed himself in, at six-three few vehicles were comfortable. Maryanne didn't speak as they traversed the hundred or so yards to the road. Sam didn't feel like starting the conversation and in any case knew that Maryanne would eventualy do so. She did after turning onto Highway 163. "Any idea what this is about?" she asked. "Your guess is as good as mine." Sam replied. "You know him better than I do." "Do I?" He generally wondered how much she knew. Half his age but part of the system. Or was she, like him, not what she seemed? Young woman, intelligent and attractive, an ideal candidate for Sentinel-Six. But what if she was actually a Pyrus operative, a triple agent. For whom? "I figure in your position you know some things I don't know." She was being serious, none of the usual fooling around. But then they don't know what I am. They think they do, as someone, or more than one someones, think they know what Maryanne is. "Sometimes I wonder," Sam said. He looked for a reaction. Nothing. Nothing can be a red flag. Still don't know which way. "I doubt I know amy more than you do," Maryanne said. "They give me orders and I carry them out." "And that's it?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "You just do whatever you're told to do?" Sam asked. "That's it. What's with the third-degree? "Most people are curious," Sam said. "So stuff gets around. Most people know stuff they're not supposed to, even if by accident. Maybe important and maybe not." "The most important thing I've seen floating around lately," Maryanne said, "was a couple of sheets that seemed to be lost from a burn bag. What was so sensitive I don't know - it was some supply lists. I turned it in and did the debriefing - probably someone got their ass chewed but I don't know or need to know." "Probably so," Sam said. "I guess they run a tight ship. And you're rarely in the office anyway. Sam was probably being careful, you come take me to catch a plane to somewhere and it's better neither of us knows until we there." "You'll be briefed after takeoff," said Maryanne. "Or didn't Harry explain that?" "Yeah." "I know you're more than you appear," Maryanne said. "Harry knows I know. And I'm the only agent you ever work with." A slight smile now. "Got it," Sam said. "Do you?" "Enough. I trust Harry and figure he knows what he's doing." The intersection with 142 was ahead, the stop sign on 163. Maryanne stopped for a few seconds even though there was no traffic in sight. There was always the chance of a cop waiting for an excuse to stop a vehicle on the road this early, and might find one where there wasn't She turned onto 163 and Sam was quiet as she negogiated the somewhat twisty road to the airfield. Two other vehicles were present - an old four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup and a fairly new Jeep Gladiator. Sam recognized the Chevy as one belonging to Reggie Browning. A 1977 Scottsdale nicknamed Scotty with some modifications. Sam and Reggie had been on a couple of adventures in it. This might get interesting. Maryanne parked behind Reggie's truck and looked over at Sam. "Ready?" "Let's do it." Reggie and another man were walking towards them as they exited their vehicle. "Howya doin', Sam?" Reggie asked. "Same as usual," Sam replied. "How about you?" "Same here," replied Reggie. "We've got a... situation to look at. This here is Gene Stinson, he's with Section Six." Sam nodded an acknowledgment. "Your flight is about eight minutes out," Reggie said. "Usual procedure." "You're not going?" Sam asked. "Not this time," Reggie replied. "Not that I wouldn't like to but..." "Got it," Sam said. "Maybe next time." "I'm always hoping there won't be a next time," said Reggie. "Me too," Sam said. "We'll take your vehicle to the base," Reggie said. "When you get back it'll be here." "You're going?" Sam asked Maryanne . "You didn't think I wouldn't be?" "No, I guess not." "As Harry said," Maryanne said, "you'll be debriefed after we're airborne." "Yeah, got it." He got his B4 from the Trax and Maryanne retrieved a pair of bags. Six minutes or so later the lights of an incoming aircraft appeared. Two rows of lights came on along the flat area between the ridges. A Piper Saratoga of early 2000s vintage descended and rolled to a stop. They ran to the aircraft and handed their bags to the man who heaved them aboard and then climbed on. Once they were seated and belted in the pilot began the takeoff. Another two minutes later they were in the air. "OK," Maryanne said, "Ready?" "Let's do it." "We're going to Salisbury," Maryanne said. "It's a hour and change so we have time. The short story is the Jihadist colony near Sherwood has gone critical." "What's the situation?" asked Sam. "We're ninety percent they have a WMD ready to go and plans to deploy it are underway. Biological. We have maybe two or three days to neutralize it." "Sherwood? That's Faisal Al-Haram. They've been on the radar for a while. What's new?" "As usual," Maryanne said, "The technique anyway. Distribute Spaphalus Calli in heavily trafficked areas. It's reportedly extremely contagious and has a mortality rate of thirty percent. And that's assuming that it hasn't been improved on." "I doubt they've improved on it," Sam said, "unless by accident. Or if they've had some help. But even thirty percent is twenty-nine percent too much. What is the current status?" "We got lucky," said Maryanne . "As I said they're a couple of days away from deploying it." "How are they planning to do that?" "In it current form anyone in a confined area is vulnerable if they come within ten to twenty feet of a source. We know it lingers on most surfaces for up to an hour, possibly more. If it's been enhanced..." "How about we nuke the place," Sam said. "Not literally but from what I know about it we could pulverize it in about fifteen minutes. If we know where the goods are five would be enough to eliminate the threat." "We'll probably have to," Maryanne replied. "Or we will anyway once we're certain the main objective is accomplished. A matter of principle if nothing else. "I'd say default action," said Sam. "What are the chances this all of it in one place?" "Zero or worse," Maryanne replied. "We know it exists elsewhere... China is the probably source as usual... but the propagation operation was contained here. There's some risk just in transporting it so they're pretty careful. Just delivering it is dangerous." "I guess if they get exposed they get the seventy-two virgins," Sam said. "Presumably. The details are EYES ONLY and I haven't seen most of it. We'll be briefed immediately upon landing." He looked out the window at the first light over Crowley's Ridge. Salisbury was a few miles east of the north end of the ridge. He had an uneasy feeling, uneasiser than usual. Wouldn't mind a smoke about now, and a drink. That was another half hour away. Maryanne was looking at a Commpad and occasionally tapping or swiping. Maryanne wasn't half his age, hadn't been born when it started. Actually depending on when it started Sam hadn't been but about twenty years ago it had gotten going good. Her generation was born into it. Maryanne Ellis was a willowy five-six with natural ash blonde hair and dark green eyes. She was dressed like him in jeans and the khaki military-style shirt and was wearing low-cut hiking shoes. He knew that she had a degree in political science from ASU and had worked briefly for a congressman. He knew that she could put five shots inside the eight ring from fifteen yards shooting double action with the little Charter Arms .38 in the crossdraw holster. He carried one as a backup and could do a little better. He also knew she had a razor in a special pocket of her Wranglers because he had one like it and had suggested she carry one. It had come in handy once. As far as he could figure she was the real deal. "Landing in five minutes," the guy in the right seat said. Better belt up, you never know. The landing was smooth as any ever had been even on a grass strip. He unbuckled as the pilot taxied to the loading area. He waited for Maryanne to exit. Their luggage was being removed by a pair of young men in olive uniforms. They placed them in the waiting car, a relatively ancient Cadillac with the stacked headlights but like most vehicles he encountered new-looking. He and Maryanne got in and the big car moved quietly and smoothly away. A few minutes later it stopped at the Salisbury headquarters building. The building was like most of the others but larger. Three floors high it was constructed of the same faded sheet metal with artistic scars and stains here and there. The main entrance was a small set of doors halfway across the front. The Caddy stopped in front of the doors. Two men in olive BDUs inspected them as they passed but there was no challenge. If they weren't legit they wouldn't be there and anyway once inside the security was even tighter. They crossed the lobby to a receptionist station. "Go on up," the receptionist said. She was a thirtysh type in a E4 uniform. Sam took the lead as they headed for the elevator.
Leonard Parrish --
Harry Andrews -- |
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