Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds

by Joe Nobody

  Then what?

  He’d be exhausted, that’s what.

  No, he decided. There was a better way. He was getting too long in the tooth to go rushing off into the desert with a pack and a rifle.

  Pulling out onto the road again, Bishop made for the front gate.

  The sentry approached cautiously, traffic at the wee hour unusual, even for a facility as large as Bliss. “I have a priority one message from Chairperson Diana Brown,” Bishop informed the sleepy soldier.

  “Identification, please,” the specialist stated, following procedure.

  Bishop handed the man his new driver’s license. “Check the list,” he told the soldier. “You’ll find I’m cleared for entry.”

  The trooper did just that, waving Bishop through a few minutes later. “Finally some respect,” Bishop whispered as he pulled through the gate.

  He drove directly to the communications building, pulling the exact same stunt on the LT sitting behind the desk. “Give me the message, and I’ll see to it,” the officer offered.

  “No,” Bishop answered curtly. “This is POTUS eyes only.”

  “Fine.”

  Bishop was shown into the room where Diana and he had recently spoken with the Colonel. A few minutes later, the young sergeant on duty said, “The White House is on the line, sir. Press here to talk; release to listen. It takes the computers a bit to decode each transmission, so you can expect a slight delay.”

  “White House operations,” came a metallic sounding voice. “State your message.”

  “Message is for POTUS and reads as follows; Code Red. Call Bishop at 1714419292 ASAP. End Message.”

  The voice in Washington repeated the words back to Bishop, and then the transmission was over. The Texan exited the building and the base as quickly as possible.

  The “Code Red” was an old phrase from the days when Bishop had worked for the Colonel. The Texan hoped his old boss would remember. The number was the satellite phone he’d been issued while searching Palo Dura for the pot growers.

  Two hours later, he pulled the truck into a secluded spot and waited for the President of the United States to call.

  Three times Bishop checked the phone’s battery level, nervous that he’d foul up his best opportunity by making a mistake with technology he wasn’t used to operating.

  After another 40 minutes, the phone rang, causing Bishop to jump.

  “Hello, sir. Thank you for calling.”

  “What’s wrong, Bishop? This is highly unusual.”

  “Sir, I need to speak with you about the ambassador you assigned to the Alliance. How well do you know this man?”

  There was a pause on the other end before the familiar voice said, “I don’t know him, son. I’ve never met the man. He was recommended to me by a private individual who’s been doing good work with our recovery. I checked his resume and offered the post.”

  Bishop briefly explained a few of the events that had occurred since the ambassador’s visit and then asked for a huge favor. “Does he have a satellite phone like the one I’m using, sir?”

  “Yes. He is supposed to use it for emergencies or other critical communications that can’t wait for the normal courier.”

  Bishop hesitated for a brief time and then popped the big question. “Sir, could you check his call records for me?”

  “What? Did I just hear you ask that I check up on my own ambassador’s activity like he was a teenager who was going over on his cell phone minutes?” sounded the indignant voice.

  “Yes, sir, you most certainly did hear me correctly.”

  “And exactly what do you expect me to find, son?”

  “I think you’ll find your representative have been making numerous calls that have nothing to do with his assignment here in Texas. If that winds up being the case, I would very much like to know where those calls are going.”

  “That man is a diplomat of the United States of America, Bishop. His communications are considered confidential and property of this country. He also has immunity. What exactly are you accusing him of?”

  “It’s very complex, sir, and I can’t prove anything just yet. I do believe, however, that the future of the Alliance, as well as the U.S. recovery, may depend on this information. We both know that if Texas goes over the edge again, there’s a good chance you’ll be dragged into the abyss with us. No one wants that to happen.”

  The president knew Bishop well. The Texan had saved his life and was one of the most competent operators the Colonel had ever employed. He wasn’t a man to go flying off the handle, nor had the chief executive ever known his former subordinate to subscribe to wild theories.

  Bishop had risked his life to save the Colonel’s predecessor and to stop a second civil war. But most importantly, he’d never made any sort of request like this before.

  “Give me an hour,” POTUS finally responded. “I’ll call you back at this number.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Relieved that his request hadn’t been rejected outright, Bishop again found himself idling while he waited. It was maddening.

  “I can’t just sit and wait any longer. I’m gonna head back for the ranch,” he finally announced to the empty cab. “I have a feeling I’m going to need some extra gear.”

  Sleep again eluded Terri, her mind replaying the previous day’s events over and over again. The worst was the fight with Bishop.

  A whirlwind of emotions circled in her mind – anger, regret, curiosity, and most importantly, love. As she bathed Hunter in the bathroom sink, she wished for the hundredth time she could take back her words of last night.

  A knock on the door gave her a rush. Thinking it was Bishop coming back to make amends, she wrapped Hunter in a towel and rushed to the threshold. She was greatly disappointed to see Pete’s face when she cracked open the door.

  “Good morning,” the councilman greeted.

  Pete then got a good look at her and knew instantly something was very wrong.

  “Bishop and I got into an argument last night,” she explained, her eyes watering with the telling. “It was terrible, Pete. He left in a huff, and I’ve not heard from him since.”

  Pete’s expression changed at the news, his face turning pale. “Oh, no,” he mumbled, moving to sit on the bed as if his legs had suddenly weakened. “That’s not good… not good at all.”

  “Why, Pete? What’s wrong?”

  “Ambassador McQuire is missing,” Pete answered. “Nick is turning Alpha upside down trying to find the man. Everyone already thinks Bishop may have done him in.”

  Terri soon joined her friend, needing to sit just as badly. “Bishop wouldn’t do that,” she began. “At least not the Bishop I used to know.”

  “You’re right,” Pete tried to reassure her. “He’s not a murderer.”

  Unable to hold it any longer, Terri began crying, feeling like her entire world was disintegrating. Pete moved to embrace the distraught woman, holding her gently against his shoulder.

  After a bit, Terri got it under control, and with a sniffle, she said, “I have to keep the faith in my husband, no matter how crazy everything has been. I have to do that, don’t I?”

  “We both do,” Pete replied. “Bishop has never let us down. I’m sure he’s not involved… it’s just a coincidence.”

  “Tell that to Nick,” Terri said in a hush.

  Bishop pulled into the ranch, wanting desperately to catch a few hours of shuteye, pack his gear, and get on the road again.

  Despite the stress, lack of sleep, and troubles with his mate, he was in a good mood. The president had delivered some very interesting information.

  Chase’s phone records revealed some telling facts that could only lead to one conclusion. The man had been spying, providing critical information to someone in Oklahoma. The satellite phone on the receiving end of his calls registered the longitude and latitude, a location Bishop wanted desperately to visit.

  Before the mystery team arrived and shot up the valley ou
tside Fort Davidson, a call had been made. The same number had been used when Diana’s schedule in Amarillo had been finalized. The list of satellite calls corresponded exactly to times when bad things were happening all across the Alliance.

  As he turned into the box canyon, it was only a mild surprise to see Sheriff Watts, a handful of deputies, and of course, Nick scattered around the camper.

  The Texan parked his truck and exited, noting that the lawmen immediately moved for a tactical advantage. Had it not been for the frightened look in their eyes and the fact that all of them were carrying rifles, it would have been amusing.

  “What’s up, Sheriff?” Bishop greeted, trying to keep his voice friendly.

  “There’s been a new development,” Watts began. “I’d like to know where you were last night.”

  “I was out driving around, clearing my head,” Bishop answered honestly.

  “All night?”

  Bishop shrugged. “Yes, sir. Times have been difficult lately to say the least. Driving clears my head.”

  Watts tilted his head, the lawman’s mirrored glasses reflecting the morning sun.

  Looking at Nick, Bishop added, “Besides, it’s been a little stuffy around town lately.”

  The senior lawman didn’t acknowledge Bishop’s remark. Instead, the questions just kept coming. “Where is your wife?”

  Now the Texan grew serious. “Okay, Sheriff, I’ve played nice up to now. What’s going on? I know you didn’t bring all these men out here just to talk about my relaxation habits or Terri’s recent travels.”

  Watts looked at Nick, the big man giving his approval via a quick nod. “Ambassador McGuire is missing,” the officer stated. “His staff has no idea where he is, and we’ve searched much of Alpha. Given the history between you two, I wanted to come out and see if you could shed any light about his whereabouts.”

  Bishop stiffened, his attention now on Nick. “So you not only think I’m a traitor but a murderer as well. Nice.”

  When Nick didn’t reply, Bishop turned back to Watts. “I was driving around all night, Sheriff. I didn’t see or speak with the ambassador.”

  “And Terri?”

  “We had what I believe you would call a non-violent domestic disturbance. I don’t know exactly where she is at this moment. Perhaps she and the ambassador ran off together.”

  Watts stiffened at Bishop’s jest, the cop not having considered the possibility. In a way, Bishop was glad.

  It was obvious that the sheriff wasn’t happy with Bishop’s responses, yet there was little else he could do. Now fishing, Watts fired the next question completely off the cuff. “Any chance your wanderings last night took you up to Oklahoma?”

  The inquiry caught Bishop completely off guard. Now it was the Texan who got aggressive, “Oklahoma? Now just why would you bring up our neighbor to the north, Sheriff?”

  Something in Bishop’s body language alerted Watts that he’d hit a nerve. “You didn’t answer my question, sir. Did you drive up that way last night?”

  Now recovering from the shock, Bishop’s answered honestly. “No, sir, I didn’t travel north at all. I left Terri at about 10 PM. There’s no way I could drive up there and back in 9 hours. Now, I’ve answered your question, how about you return the common courtesy and tell me what Oklahoma has to do with any of this?”

  Again, Watts received permission to share the information from Nick. “One of the vans used by the men who attacked you up by Fort Davidson had at one time been registered in Oklahoma. There is a witness who saw persons of interest getting into a similar van after the incident in Amarillo.”

  Bishop found himself smiling for the first time in days. It all fit, the final pieces of the puzzle coming together in a flash of realization.

  Watts and Nick noted the instant change in the suspect’s demeanor and found Bishop’s reaction interesting. The big man finally spoke, “Well now, don’t you just look like the cat who swallowed the canary? Care to share what has lightened your mood all of a sudden?”

  “Nothing important,” Bishop responded with a cocky grin. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m going hunting and need to get some of my gear together. If there are no other questions, Sheriff, then I will ask you kindly, get the fuck off my land.”

  Watts exchanged the third glance with Nick and then nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be back,” he said to Bishop, the intentional threat left hanging in the desert air.

  Motioning his men, the sheriff watched as the small platoon of deputies made for their cars. He then turned to Nick and said, “Are you coming?”

  “No,” Nick stated coldly, his eyes never leaving Bishop. “I think I’ll hang around for a bit longer. I’ll see you back in Alpha a little later.”

  Watts started to protest, knowing damn good and well the two former friends had been at odds. A curt look from Nick halted the sheriff’s objections.

  While the lawmen exited the ranch, Bishop retrieved his rifle from the truck, checking the chamber.

  A few minutes later, he found himself standing and staring at the big ex-operator.

  Nick’s face was stoic as he stepped close, the two men well within striking distance of each other. Then, without warning, he smiled broadly and wrapped his arms around Bishop in a bear-like hug.

  Both men were emotional as they exchanged the embrace, each patting the other on the back as if they were long-lost relatives reunited.

  “I think we pulled it off,” Bishop gushed, glad the charade was finally over. “Although I have to admit until you used the code word ‘Judas,’ you had me going. Scared the crap out of me to be blunt.”

  “We both deserve Academy Awards,” Nick responded, finally letting loose of his smaller friend.

  “I don’t think they give those out anymore,” Bishop chuckled. “Besides, the girls are going to kill us when they find out,” Bishop noted. “That shit with Diana scared the hell out of me, yesterday. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah… she’s fine. Damn it, I told her to stay put and rest, but she didn’t listen. I thought the whole thing had blown up in our faces when she fainted. That’s what you get for falling for a hard-headed woman.”

  Bishop nodded toward the ranch’s lane and the dust trail still lingering after law enforcement’s exit. “Watts and about a dozen other important people are going to be super-duper pissed at us when they find out we’ve been playacting all along.”

  “They’ll forgive us after we explain. Given we couldn’t be for sure how deep the problem went, the extra caution and cover story were necessary. After all, we can’t be sure Chase is our only spy. And everyone knows that loose lips sink ships.”

  Grinning with a nod, Bishop added, “Hell, you even had me going a couple of times. I was a little scared that you were really going to kick my ass.”

  Nick shared in the memory with a hearty chuckle before becoming stoic. “Will Terri ever forgive me? I didn’t sleep at all that night after I said that shit about her. I bet she’ll hate me forever.”

  “Naw,” Bishop responded. “I helped you out and diverted her rage last night. Now I’m the one in the doghouse. She’s forgotten all about your transgressions.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I always knew you’d take a bullet for me.”

  “You don’t know how close that little joke came to being a reality last night.” Bishop punctuated the intensity of his encounter with Terri by a loud whistle. “My gosh. I have never seen that woman so pissed,” Bishop chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do,” he continued, walking toward the bat cave and the equipment stored there.

  Nick followed, “So the president confirmed our man Chase has been making some unauthorized communications?”

  “Yes, and guess where most of his Sat-phone calls have been going?”

  “I don’t have to guess. The look on your face when Watts mentioned Oklahoma let the cat out of the bag. You should really work on your poker face a bit. It was written all over you.”

  “No wonder Terri could always guess what
I got her for Christmas. Anyway, I looked up the coordinates and you were right – it’s your old buddy, Cameron James Lewis. You should be a little more particular about who you pal around with.”

  “I knew the day that jerk got away from us that he’d be back. He’s just not the sort that gives up. We need to put him down.”

  Nick’s statement brought Bishop back to the job ahead. “Is Butter out of jail, or am I going to have to break him out with horses and ropes around the window bars? It’s not a problem either way, I just need to know what extra equipment I might need to stow in the pickup,” he mocked, arranging rifles and gear.

  “I had Watts let him go with a promise not to leave town,” Nick replied. “While you’re packing up, I’ll get my kit ready. Are we taking your truck or mine?”

  Bishop stopped his arranging and stood straight. “What’s this ‘we’ shit? You just got out of the hospital, brother. The last thing I need is your big ass bleeding out on me up in Indian country.”

  “You’re not going by yourself,” Nick pushed back. “Besides, I’m in a lot better shape than I’ve been letting on. It’s all been part of the act.”

  The Texan didn’t buy it, not the last part anyway. “Come on, man. I’m already in so much fucking hot water, I’m not sure if I’m the lobster or the potato. Let me get Butter or one of the other guys. We can handle it.”

  “No,” came the firm reply. “I’m going, and that’s that. These assholes have killed a bunch of our people and set the recovery back months, if not years. I’m going.”

  Bishop stepped closer and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, “I understand the need for payback, but you’re a government official and have no permission to operate outside Alliance territory. If things go badly up there, I’m just a private citizen committing a crime. Your large-ass presence, on the other hand, could be twisted into an international incident… something just short of an invasion.”

  “Then we have to make sure nothing goes wrong, my friend,” the retired operator countered.

  Bishop studied his comrade for a moment, weighing the positives and negatives. Finally, he shrugged, capitulating, “Okay. You’re the boss.”