by Steven Smith
Aaron looked down the tree-canopied street. "Glad it's down-hill."
Alex chuckled, seeing that everyone had caught up. "Me too. Let's go."
They coasted down the final four blocks, passing a neighborhood of small, formerly over-priced houses on their left and a church and retirement complex on their right. Approaching 71st Street, they saw the landmark Prairie Village shopping center on their left and turned right onto 71st Street where a paved path entered the golf course on the left.
Following the path into the golf course, they made their way to high ground where they stopped in a grove of large trees.
Swinging off his bike, Alex looked around. "Okay, this is our spot for the night. Let's get set up. Everybody knows what to do."
Aaron and Brandon took their teams to a perimeter about a hundred yards out, surrounding the stand of trees where Alex had his team setting up spotting scopes on each main compass direction. The gentle grade of the rise would put the perimeter in the line of fire from the central team against any attack, but trees and sand bunkers provided good cover from external threats and perimeter scouts would wear caps with reflective tape on the back after dark to mark their positions to the central team.
The bikes were laid down under the trees to minimize the chance of reflection from the sun and Alex made a mental note to deal with reflective surfaces in the future.
"Flat paint," said Aaron, reading his brother's mind.
The afternoon was spent watching, listening and relaxing. Birds flew overhead and a small pack of dogs was spotted to the north, but the silence was almost eerie to the group of scouts who were used to community life. The realization that they were by themselves, almost thirty miles from Stonemont and at least ten miles from their base team caused a certain disquiet among many that they kept to themselves, but that added to their vigilance.
As evening approached, the scouts tasked with the night's patrol settled under the trees in a group to grab a few hours of sleep. Others pulled out pre-packaged scout rations and ate them cold, preparing for a dark camp. At sunset, perimeter sentry pairs began rotating sleep shifts, and several hours later the recon team headed northeast toward the city.
Aaron led the team out of the golf course between a sprawling clubhouse and an Olympic size swimming pool. The entry monument said Indian Hills Country Club, and the cars that had been left in the parking lot indicated that it had been an exclusive club.
They were on foot for this part of the mission, a recon of the neighborhoods leading into the center of the city, then, hopefully, a probe into the city itself. This first night patrol would be a passive operation, designed mainly to watch and listen for any night activity. The daytime patrol the next day tasked the teams to make entries into selected houses and buildings in order to gain an understanding of situational considerations of the area and identify potential observation or forward staging posts for the future.
Jim had told them that they would be going through one of the wealthiest areas of the city, and within a few blocks they could see why. Tomahawk Drive wound through Mission Hills, the metropolitan area's famous home of the city's elite, and large homes nestled along the tree-lined streets finally gave way to the shadowy hulks of stately mansions sitting on hills behind iron gates.
The scene was eerie as they quietly made their way along the winding streets, dark windows seeming to watch them as they passed, and they soon arrived at State Line Road where they left Kansas and entered Kansas City, Missouri.
The houses remained large as they made their way north on Ward Parkway, the historic divided boulevard that reached through the Country Club district into the Country Club Plaza, the first shopping area in the world designed to draw shoppers in automobiles.
They walked in the wide, treed median, the dark mansions on each side silent witnesses to their passing, until they reached the point where the parkway started to swing downhill to the east toward the Plaza and Aaron gave the signal to stop.
He motioned the second scout up to him. "Smell that?"
The second scout sniffed the air and nodded. "Smoke."
11
Tom took the binoculars from his eyes and set them on the shelf that ran around the interior of the watchtower. The view was amazing, the tower being situated on the hill above the main house, and he never tired of looking at the fields and forests that spread for miles in every direction.
Below him, the compound was beginning to glow as the lights in the main house and several of the cabins came on. To the west, the last vestiges of a fiery prairie sunset glowed on the horizon, silhouetting the hills and trees in front of it. To the south, darkness grew as it melded into the east, and to the north he saw the flashes from the tower at Hillmont verifying that all was well at nine o'clock. He watched as the Stonemont signalman responded with the designated series of flashes, then thought about the recon teams in the city.
The areas with whom they were in contact seemed to be secure. Sheriffs Freelove and McGregor and their group seemed to have established a stable and functioning network of communities in their counties, as had Hersey and his group farther west. The counties to the south also seemed to be peaceful, with sheriffs still at the helm and with community support. The big unknowns were to the north and east.
They knew very little about what lay to the east over the Missouri state line, and with the exception of a brief contact with a Bates County Sheriff's posse had made no contacts in that direction. The sprawling Kansas City metropolitan area was the monster resting closely to their northeast, and that was their biggest unknown and concern. Hopefully, the recon team would come back with some answers.
Twinkling lights drew his attention to the near northwest, and he put the binoculars back to his eyes to look toward Jamestown. Streetlights had been installed at the corners of the square, and the lights from individual houses and the Jamestown Inn combined with them to create a sparkling island in the surrounding sea of darkness. Something about it made him smile.
"See something good, sir?" asked the young signalman.
Tom set the binoculars back down and nodded. "Normalcy."
He looked at the young man. "What's your name, son?"
"Zac, sir."
"How are things going for you, Zac?"
Zac smiled. "Very good, sir. My family has a place in Jamestown. My dad runs one of the construction crews, my mom runs things at home, and my little brother and sister are excited to start school."
Tom nodded. "And how about you? Are you enjoying what you are doing?"
Zac gave a half-nod combined with a shrug. "I like it okay, but it gets kind of boring. I don't feel like I'm doing much." His eyes grew excited as he looked at Tom. "I really want to be on a scout team. That would be more exciting."
Tom nodded in understanding, looking out into the dark. Every young man wanted adventure, which was good. It was how most of the great things in history had been accomplished. But in focusing on that, they often missed the importance of the less dramatic but just as critical basics. "Right now, we have three teams in the city running recon. Their job is to take a look around, not get caught and come back to tell us what they saw. Each of those men is a one thirty-sixth piece of that operational pie."
He turned to look at Zac. "On the other hand, we have one man, you, communicating with and keeping an eye on the other towers in order to let us know if there is trouble coming. You have the whole pie. One hundred percent."
He looked back into the dark. "If one of those scouts makes a mistake, chances are his team-mates will pick up the slack or plug the hole. If you make a mistake, hundreds of people could die. Maybe all of us."
He turned back to look at the young man. "With that in mind, who would you say has the more important job tonight?"
Zac stared at Tom, his eyes wide. "I never thought of it that way, sir."
"But others above you have, and they chose you to be here doing this job. What do you think about that?"
Zac continued to stare at Tom, h
is mouth suddenly feeling dry. "I ... I guess this job is more important than I thought, sir. I never thought about that."
Tom nodded. "I am trusting you with the lives of those I love most in the world, Zac. So are Jim, Christian, Mike, Bill and everyone else down there - even those who don't realize they are."
He stepped closer to Zac, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder and looking him in the eye. "I'm going to go finish my rounds, and then I'm going to meet my wife and kids at the Jamestown Inn for supper. And I'm going to do that feeling secure, not because thirty-six scouts are in the city, but because you are here. Do you understand?"
Zac nodded, suddenly feeling warm. "Yes, sir."
Tom patted Zac's shoulder. "Have a good night, son, and thank you for your good work."
Zac straightened up as Tom turned to climb down the ladder. "Goodnight, sir. Thank you."
Tom stopped and looked at Zac. "Don't ever forget how important your job is."
Zac shook his head. "I won't, sir."
Tom climbed down the ladder to the supply platform where a second signalman sometimes slept, then down a second ladder to the ground where he exited the tower enclosure. The night was starting to cool down from the heat of the day and he stood for a moment, taking a deep breath and enjoying the feel of it.
More lights were coming on in the compound and the sound of laughter drifted up to him. A dog barked and a door slammed. The sounds of people living a peaceful life made him smile for a second time and he stood there for several minutes enjoying the calm before throwing his leg over the dirt bike and kicking it to life.
The sound of the engine was insulting to his ears and he felt self-conscious about disrupting the peace and quiet of the evening. Slowly making his way down the hill, he rode through the main gate, down the approach road and through the contact gate before heading toward town.
The sky was clear, and, with the sun finally setting, the canopy of stars was amazing.
The harshness of the bike's headlight seemed to add to the offense of the engine noise, and once again he wished he could get the hang of riding a horse. He had heard about an Army Special Forces team that had used horses in Afghanistan and had seen a statue in New York dedicated to them, but he didn't seem to be able to do much above a walk himself. Once the horse started trotting, he felt like a can of paint in a shaker. He just couldn't get the rhythm down.
The lights of town soon appeared, and he slowed as he rode into the square. The streetlights created warm pools of light at the corners and he drove past the dark town hall to West Street where the lights of the Jamestown Inn seemed to explode from the dimness surrounding it. Pulling up to the entrance of the Inn's courtyard, he shut off the bike, thankful for the silence, dismounted and went through the gate.
The courtyard tables were almost full, but he immediately saw Patty and the kids sitting at a long table near the back with the Wyatts. Nodding to acquaintances as he made his way through the tables, he reached the chair Patty had saved for him next to hers.
"I know, I'm late," he chuckled, looking at Jim as he sat down.
Jim laughed. "You lucked out. I tried to eat them all before you got here but they just keep bringing them out."
A waitress set a new tray of tacos in the middle of the table.
"Taco Tuesday," Patty smiled.
Tom took several tacos from the tray and put them on his plate, reaching next for a bowl of salsa he spooned onto each one. "Just like the old days."
"How is everything?" Jim asked.
"Everything's good," Tom answered around a mouthful. "Are Christian and Mike coming?"
Jim took another taco from the tray. "Christian and Naomi should be along any time. Mike is having dinner with Tracy, Bill and Ann."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Really? I was wondering how much longer that was going to take."
"How much longer what was going to take?" asked Christian as he and Naomi walked up behind Jim.
"For you to get here and keep your lovely wife from starving," said Jim. "Here," he picked up the tray with one remaining taco on it and handed it to Christian. "Here's one for you. I'll ask them to bring some fresh ones out for Naomi."
"Thanks," Christian laughed, taking the taco off of the tray and taking a bite as he and Naomi sat down. "You're pretty grumpy for a great uncle."
"See?" said Jim, looking at Kelly. "He finally admits I'm a great uncle."
Kelly looked back and forth between Christian and Naomi who were both smiling. "Really?" she asked, hopefully.
"Of course, really," said Jim. "And it's about time, too."
"We just told my mom," Naomi nodded excitedly.
"See?" said Jim. “They even told her mom I'm a great uncle."
Kelly looked at him with a smirk. "I don’t think that's what they're saying, dear. I think they're telling us that Naomi is expecting."
"Expecting what?" asked Morgan.
"Yeah?" asked Jim, winking at Naomi then looking at Christian. "I suppose you're going to want family leave now?"
"Do we have that?"
"No."
"Congratulations!" Kelly said excitedly, getting up from her chair and going around the table to give Naomi a hug. "Where's Cilla? You should have brought her with you to celebrate with us."
Naomi returned the hug, beaming. "We asked her to, but she said she wanted to stay home and write a letter to my dad. She said it was the closest she could come to them experiencing it together."
"Oh, of course. Well, give her our love. I'll go over tomorrow to see her. As a matter of fact, why don't we get together for lunch so we can both pester you with questions?"
Naomi laughed. "That would be great. I'll tell her."
Jim watched as the two women talked, then looked at his nephew who was also watching them with a contented smile. When Christian finally looked at him, he nodded and smiled. "I'll have them bring you some fresh tacos. Come by the house for a minute before you turn in."
“Okay,” said Christian, still smiling at his wife.
"Come in," Jim said to the knock.
"You don't usually keep this closed," said Christian, stepping through the door into the den. "You want me to close it?"
Jim nodded. "You want a drink?"
"Sure."
Jim took two glasses from a shelf over the bar and poured two fingers of Wild Turkey into each. Setting the bottle back down, he picked up both glasses and handed one to Christian.
"One-o-one," Christian observed. "This must not be business."
Jim smiled. "A little business in a minute, but first, congratulations."
They raised their glasses and took a first sip.
"I always forget how good this is," smiled Christian. "I'll try to get another one on the way as soon as I can."
Jim chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
He set his glass on the bar and walked over to one of the large bookcases. Reaching up, he took a statue off of an upper shelf and carried it back, placing it on the bar. "Your father gave this to Kelly and me when we got married."
Christian looked at the beautiful bronze casting of two wolves, a male and a female, sitting side-by-side and pressing their faces together.
Jim looked at it for a moment in silence before continuing. "He gave it to us because wolves are one of the few species that mate for life and he said that he knew that we would.”
He looked at his nephew. "Kelly and I want to give it to you and Naomi because we know you will too."
Christian looked at the statue in stunned silence. He shook his head. "I don't know what to say.
Jim chuckled. "Finally."
He raised his glass again. "Your dad was a good man and a good father. You are and will be too."
He turned and nodded his head toward the couches. "Let's sit down."
Jim sat in the middle of one of the deep leather couches and waited for Christian to sit opposite him. The large room was mostly dark, illuminated only with two table lamps that allowed the corners to fade into dar
kness. It was the kind of light he liked for thinking and talking about the important things of life. "I'm going to pull you out of your current job."
Christian took a sip and waited.
"Do you remember why you left law enforcement?
Christian nodded. "Same reason you did."
"And why was that?"
"Because I felt, we felt, that we were serving a system that was serving itself instead of the people, who didn't appreciate what we were trying to do anyway."
Jim nodded. "Do you remember how it felt for the people you were trying to serve to view you as the enemy, and for many of those you served with to view the citizens the same way?"
Christian nodded. "Yep."
"Did you ever see High Noon?"
Christian shook his head. "I've heard about it. My dad didn't really like it."
"Neither did I, but it had an important message." He took a sip of his drink. "Gregory Peck plays a town marshal who put a guy away. Peck quits, gets married to Grace Kelly and they're about to leave town to go open a store somewhere when they get word that the bad guy just got out of prison and is headed back with his gang to kill Peck or shoot up the town - I forget which."
He took another sip. "Anyway, even though he's no longer marshal, Peck thinks that he ought to stay and deal with the gang, so he goes around town to see who will help him. Of course, no one will. That's the part I didn't like, and your dad probably didn't either. I think some people would step up, but the lesson is that there is a divide that exists, and will probably always exist, between a general population and those who do the dirty work of protecting them. The protected will grow to fear yet feel socially superior to the protectors while the protectors will grow to feel superior to the protected, viewing them with distrust and disdain."
Christian took a sip of the bourbon, nodding in agreement and understanding.
"I don't want you to live that kind of life again. I don't want your family to have to deal with it. I want you all to have a nice, normal life where you're part of the community, not separate from it."
