John offered quick introductions, Paul and Becka looking up at Bob warily and not offering any reply other than curt hellos.
“I wish I had more time to meet all of you properly and someplace warm where we could sit and get acquainted. I can guess you want to get those two little ones safely home. You can pull around the chopper and go on your way.”
“With my husband?” Makala asked sharply.
“We need to chat for a while, ma’am.”
“But he’ll be home directly afterward?”
“All will work out just fine,” Bob said smoothly.
“I see,” was all she said back, her gaze now fixed on John.
John offered a smile of reassurance. “I’ll be along shortly, sweetheart. Why don’t you get the Hawkinses and their babies settled in and stay with them until I get home? Okay?”
Makala had the uncanny ability to know when he was holding something back or lying, and he knew she sensed it now.
“John?” She started to crack the door open.
He stepped forward, leaned into the car, and kissed her. “Baby comes first,” John whispered even as he kissed her again. “Get home safe, sweetheart. I love you both. Please do that now.”
She began to sob, arms reaching out to hug him, to somehow pull him into the car, but he broke free of her embrace, pushing the door closed as she tried to open it again.
“Now, Makala, please. Do it for me. Get the Hawkinses safely home.”
Unable to hide her sobs, she shifted the car into gear, rear wheels spinning as she hit the gas, swung the old vehicle out onto the road, and floored it, tires spinning in the slush and then gaining traction. She swung around the tail rotor of the Black Hawk and disappeared from view, John’s gaze on them until out of sight.
“A beautiful woman, John. Lots of guts. Can see why you fell in love with her.”
“Thank you for playing your part, Bob. But she knows.”
“Yeah, I could see that. What loving wife wouldn’t see through it?”
There was a moment of silence between the two.
Bob put a reassuring hand on John’s shoulders. Now that they were gone and he no longer had to playact, emotion was hitting him. “I hope you two have a daughter on the way. I always feared that Jennifer wouldn’t make it through the times after the attack. I remember how aggressive her diabetes was. Is it any help to you now that I prayed for her every day, even tried to figure out how to get through to you with some insulin? But it was impossible. You know that.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. A few extra shots, six months’ worth, her fate was sealed along with so many other kids like her on that day. We both know that.”
“Nevertheless, it haunted me. Same as my Linda and so many others.”
John could hear the emotion in his voice, and then there was silence between them as they walked back up the slope to the helicopter and climbed aboard, the gunner offering each of them a hand as they stepped up and strapped in.
“So this is it?” John asked as the rotors began to turn.
“Not quite yet. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to take down your eavesdropping as well. One of your ham operators screwed up, put it out on the air that you and your people were listening in and suspected that Bluemont was plotting some sort of attack. Sorry, John; I got direct orders to take it off-line.”
John wearily shook his head. It was the age-old bane of any secured operation. All it took was one loudmouth and all cover was blown.
“Only one of two ways I could see of doing that. We hover over the building, half a dozen of my troopers rappel down on to the roof, and chances are a lot of people—yours and mine—get shot, or you just walk in with me and we peacefully take it off-line. It’s your call.”
“We walk in,” John replied. “One question, though. How did you know where to find us?”
“There are spies, and then there are other spies, John. I think you were bloody insane for driving down to Old Fort after what happened last week. But in my case, it made it easy to pick you up without any fuss and take care of your listening post at the same time.”
“Just great.” John sighed.
“Maybe you should count yourself lucky.”
*
The walk from the Ridgecrest conference center up to the Franklins’ steep driveway was just a short distance but damned tiring as they slogged up through the slushy snow. A couple of times John came to a stop so Bob could catch his breath, and there was even a bit of tension-breaking joking about how both of them were getting too old for this type of hike. As they rounded the last turn in the driveway, John came to a sudden stop as four figures rose up from concealment—Ernie’s sons, daughter, and her husband, all of them pointing weapons at them.
John held his hands up, whispering for Bob to do the same as John identified himself. Weapons were lowered but still casually held in their general direction as they ascended the last fifty yards to the garage entrance, where Ernie awaited them, arms folded in his usual defiant gesture.
“I suspect this is not a friendly visit,” Ernie announced without offering any kind of welcome. “We saw the chopper circling earlier and heard it land at Ridgecrest. One hovered above us for a few minutes last evening as well.”
John tried to make formal introductions, but Ernie cut him off. “So, we’ve been found out, and your friend decided to come here personally to have a look-see before shutting us down. Is that it?”
“Let’s not go off half-cocked, Ernie,” John replied.
“Half-cocked? Let’s look at this from a different light, John. So this your legendary friend Bob Scales?”
John nodded.
“And our new military dictator. At least he looks a damn sight more official than that damn Fredericks that I put a bullet into.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Ernie, can we just mellow out for a moment?”
“So you’re the one that shot Fredericks?” Bob interjected.
“Yeah. You got an issue with that? The bastard was about to shoot my foolish friend here in the back, so I gave it to him first.”
“From what I heard of everything that happened here”—he paused—“can’t say I blame you. And if you saved John’s life in the process, I thank you.”
“Just great, I feel exonerated,” Ernie replied. “So now that I’ve confessed, am I on the arrest list too?”
“No.”
“But my friend here is?”
Bob was silent.
“Tell you what. A quid pro quo. You let him go, we let you go. You hold him, we hold you. You execute him, we execute you. How’s that sound?”
“Damn it, Ernie, stop being an ass,” John snapped. “One volley from an Apache will take this place apart—you, your entire family, all the kids you got upstairs. I won’t be part of that.”
“Thank you, John,” Bob said softly, still forcing a disarming smile. “Mr. Franklin, I respect your loyalty to our friend John. I feel the same way about him. But to try to hold me—actually, I’m okay with it, but some of my people would not be—they’d try a rescue and evac the moment they heard I was being held, and a lot of innocent people on both sides would get hurt. We don’t want that. I know John doesn’t want it either.”
John nodded.