“Enough talkin’, crazy man. Shut up.”
“I just wanna know what lies he told you.”
“I said shut up! I ain’t your friend, you fuckin’ scumbag. One more word and this horse is gonna end up draggin’ your ass the rest of the way!”
Richard had endured all manner of physical abuse in his days but being dragged by a horse was not one of them so he took the warning seriously. The most crucial thing he could deduce at that point was that the bounty hunter had kept his identity a secret. The most likely reason was greed – he didn’t want to share the bounty with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.
The two men walked for another thirty minutes and arrived at what used to be a large gas station. The pumps had long since been removed and the building had been fortified with iron bars and sandbags. Virgil dismounted his horse and leveled his shotgun at Richard’s chest.
“Get on inside. Walk slow and don’t do nothin’ stupid. Get within ten feet of me and you die. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Morgan! Get your ass out here, boy! Got us a prisoner!”
Richard slowly walked towards the entrance and was greeted by a stocky man in his late twenties. Richard had the amusing thought that they had arrived at a nightclub and this guy was the bouncer. Morgan eyed Richard. “You are one nasty lookin’ sumbitch. We gonna have any problems outta you, boy?”
“I’d like a room with a king sized bed and make sure the mini-bar is fully stocked. You take credit cards? I don’t have any cash on me. After I get settled in send your sister up to my room.”
Morgan laughed. “I like this guy! Where’d you find him?”
“Like you don’t know,” said Virgil.
“Come on, funny man, the penthouse suite is ready for you. I’m sure you’re gonna love it.” Morgan put a firm hand on Richard’s elbow and led him inside. All of the shelving and merchandise had been cleared out long ago to make room for desks and storage lockers. At the center of the main room where the cash registers had once been now resembled a judge’s bench from a courtroom. Richard counted six people walking around and was bothered that not one of them would look at him. It was as though they were deliberately ignoring him.
The walk-in freezer had been remodeled into an impressive holding cell. Richard was shoved inside. Morgan said, “Get some rest, funny man. Your friend there tried to bargain with the judge, wanted to split the reward money they got out on you fifty-fifty. Judge didn’t quite see it that way. Figured we could handle a war criminal ourselves and collect the bounty. What the hell’d you do?”
Richard said nothing.
“Fine, don’t say anything. I think it’s a load of shit, no way you was some big time general.” The door was slammed shut followed by the clicking of locks.
Richard turned and looked at his cellmate. The broken hand he had given the bounty hunter was now the least of his problems. The pool of blood under his head gave Richard serious doubts as to how he was going to escape. Suddenly his odds didn’t seem so good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maxwell Harris was tired of funerals. Long ago he had given up on developing close relationships with new people. He’d grown to respect a handful of people he had met in the last ten years, but the number of people he truly valued as a close friend was in the single digits. Theodore Forrest had taken the top spot once occupied by Richard Dupree. When the traitor pissed on the memory of Howard Beck and ran off like a coward, Theodore Forrest insisted on being the one to hunt Dupree to the ends of the earth and bring him back to answer for his crimes.
What pained Max the most was that he was now presiding over the second funeral of his dear friend. When Dupree wiped out Theo’s squad over a year ago and his dear friend was presumed dead, Max had held a memorial service for the honored fallen. Now, for the second time, he had to stare out at the faces of the people that looked to him for strength and help them try to make sense of it all.
“I’m sorry. That’s about all that I come up with. It’s really the only thing that can sum up what I’m feeling. I made a mistake by telling all of you that Theo was gone.” Max couldn’t help but look into the eyes of Theo’s widow. “We’ve all spent the past year coping with this grief in our own way and now all of that is for nothing. We have no choice but to start the process again and for that I’m sorry. I should have done better. I shouldn’t have made an assumption about something as important as a man’s life.”
Max continued to look at Vanessa Forrest hoping to see a glimmer of anything. Forgiveness was nowhere on the list. He was holding out for acceptance or even understanding but her stern countenance didn’t falter. She needs someone to blame and you’re the most qualified it seems. Give her time; she’ll get over it. Max hung his head and looked to Theodore’s son to take his place at the podium so he could properly eulogize his father.
Max could feel that the widow Forrest had extended as much of her courtesy to his presence as she could muster so Max bowed out and quietly blended his way to the back of the crowd and stood next to his wife.
Elizabeth leaned in and whispered. “What was Theo doing out there?”
“Jesus, Elizabeth! Can we put the man in the ground first?”
“So when he’s in the ground you’ll stop lying to me and everyone? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this now.”
“Part of me hoped you’d finally come clean when you were at the podium just now, but I’m not surprised you decided to stick with the lying coward routine. It suits both of you.”
“Leave Theo out of this!” Everyone within ten feet of the arguing couple looked at them in disgust.
“Do you really think anyone believed the bullshit cover-up story you and Theo dreamed up? Out of nowhere you decide to send Theo on a diplomatic assignment to Florida and on his way back his entire delegation gets ambushed and murdered by outlaws?”
“Richard Dupree is alive.”
Elizabeth Harris had been lied to for over a year and no matter what, her husband had always stuck to the same lie. No matter how many holes she punched in his bullshit story he never wavered from the diplomatic fantasy he and Theo dreamed up. For one of the first times in her marriage, her husband had left her speechless. No witty comeback, no opinion to share, only stunned silence.
Max felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this level of peace. More surprising, he actually smiled. “Theo was surprised I hadn’t told you.”
Elizabeth was overcome with a torrent of emotions. She felt joy for crossing the chasm separating her from her husband. She understood her husband’s deceit came from a place of love and protection. Her fury and hatred for Richard Dupree would have led to her demise long ago if she knew the truth. Had she known Theo’s true mission, nothing would have stopped her from leaving with him to hunt down the traitor. Her husband’s declining physical state prevented him from sprinting more than ten yards so Dupree was well outside his grasp. Maxwell knew the truth would take her from him so the only way to keep her safely by his side was to lie to her.
Elizabeth reached down and squeezed her husband’s hand. At her touch tears welled up in his eyes. “Please don’t leave, Elizabeth. Trust that I have a plan. We’ve sacrificed too much and we’re very close to catching him.”
“How many?”
“He’s killed forty-seven of our people. No telling how many more that got in his way.”
“Are you counting Hal?”
“Of course I’m counting Hal. He’s at the top of the list. Theo’s the most recent addition.”
“All this time I thought when he destroyed Hal that son of a bitch died along with him.”
Max paused and contemplated if it was time for the whole truth. He figured the bombshell he just dropped would take time to process. He would tell her everything soon enough. However, as always, his wife could read him like a book. “Max? What is it, sweetheart?
”
Max looked into his wife’s beautiful blue eyes and smiled. “Now is not the time, my dear. We need to say goodbye to our friend. This day is about him, not Richard Dupree.”
Elizabeth Harris felt a renewed sense of trust in her husband and kissed his cheek.
***
After the funeral Elizabeth returned home to prepare dinner. Max still had a job to do. The day-to-day operations of a secured compound never ceased, not even for a funeral. The command center was operated out of two shipping containers laid side by side with doors cut into the walls to connect the two structures. Solar panels lined the top of the command center. Secured to the side of the command center stood a hundred foot antenna for a shortwave radio.
These days Max could find very few things he took pride in and the command center was at the top of the list. Having spent decades in chronic pain from a spinal column that would give a chiropractor nightmares, Max could not venture far from the compound. His command center was among three of the most advanced communication centers west of the Mississippi so Max had little need to travel. Five command centers were operating east of the Mississippi. The only thing the eight command centers had in common was that they possessed powerful shortwave radio transmitters that could broadcast across the continent. Anyone with the proper resources could join the club.
Every command center adopted their call sign from the nearest city that showed up on the most rudimentary maps of the former United States. The command center in front of Max was actually on the shores of Jackson Lake but derived its name from the city of Denver, some sixty miles to the southwest.
Max entered the command center and retrieved the paperwork from his tray and pretended to read them while he scanned the faces of his staff for signs of anger or resentment. Since most of his waking hours were spent navigating various stages of inebriation he never knew from day to day which people he had offended or humiliated. No one seemed to be seething in anger so Max felt safe for the time being. Max asked the room. “Anything to report?”
“Things are shaking up in St. Louis,” said one of the two men sitting at the comm desk.
Max was intrigued. St. Louis had been stable for years. “Really?”
“Repeated broadcasts claim that Willie McCallon is dead.”
“Son of a bitch. What the hell happened?”
“Someone killed him and his lieutenants. At least that’s what the broadcast is saying. Might be bullshit.”
“How long have they been broadcasting this?”
“Little over twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours is a long time to broadcast bullshit. Who’s claiming power now?”
“You would think one of McCallon’s rivals would be loud and proud. Whoever’s running St. Louis now hasn’t announced a coming out party.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What else?”
“Knoxville has a report for you.”
Max shuffled through the papers in his hands. “I don’t see it.”
“He wants to speak to you directly. He contacted us during the funeral. Offered his condolences and said he’d be available for the rest of the day.”
“Far be it from me to ignore the likes of Benjamin Black. Let’s get him on the horn.”
“You got it.” The technician flipped some switches and tweaked the dial to Knoxville’s frequency. “Knoxville station, Knoxville station, this is Denver. Come in, Knoxville.”
“Go ahead, Denver, this is Knoxville station.”
“I have Mr. Harris on the line for Mr. Black.”
“Roger, wait one.”
A minute later, the booming voice of Benjamin Black filled the room. “Max? You there?”
“I’m here Ben.”
“Sorry to hear about Theo. He was a good man. Give Vanessa my love.”
“Will do. What’s going on Ben?”
“Have some good news for you.”
“We can use it.”
“Your friend is coming for a visit. Should be here day after tomorrow.”
Max immediately understood why his good friend wanted to deliver the news himself. “You sure he’ll make it to the party this time?” Dupree had been caught before but always managed to escape custody.
“I have a welcoming committee heading straight to him. The kind folks escorting him seem to know what they’re doing and have been acquainted with his talents. My people should meet up with him this time tomorrow.”
“That’s great news, Ben. What do you need from me?”
“Just meet me half way and he’s all yours. I’ll be coming along to keep him company.”
“When you confirm he’s in Knoxville, I’ll have my people on the road. You have enough fuel?”
“You know I do, been saving up just for this.”
“That great, Ben. You guys know about St. Louis?”
“Yeah, not sure what to make of it. McCallon may have been an asshole, but he kept St. Louis locked down tight for years.”
“You guys know who’s calling the shots now?”
“No, but I’m gonna find out. Not much choice.”
“Still no way around St. Louis?”
“Afraid not. After McCallon took out the bridges in Memphis, you got two options to get a vehicle across the Mississippi – St. Louis or New Orleans.”
“Is New Orleans still standing?”
“Shit, Maxwell, you know as well as I do – anyone that makes it to New Orleans is never heard from again.”
“Ben, I can’t let you have all the fun. Make camp a safe distance from St. Louis and wait for me to get to my side. I’ll meet your recon team in the city follow them back to you. We combine our forces and cross the Mississippi together.”
“Are you saying you’re actually making the trip yourself?”
“You know I am. This is too important.”
“What will your lovely wife say?”
“Brother, you let me worry about that.”
“Fair enough. Stay close to the radio this time tomorrow. The minute our guest is comfortable I’ll call you.”
“I look forward to it.”
***
“Honey, I’m sorry for everything.”
Max and Elizabeth had retired to their bed for the evening. Patience was not Elizabeth’s strong suit, but she knew that her husband was waiting for complete privacy from his walkie-talkie, from knocks on the door, from everything.
“It’s okay, I promise. I understand why you kept it a secret. Everyone was better off thinking he was dead. I’ve slept a lot better thinking he was rotting in hell. I can’t imagine the torture you’ve been living all this time.”
“Gives my alcoholism a certain level of validation, doesn’t it?”
“Where is he, Maxwell?”
“In custody on his way to Ben.”
“Are you serious? He’s been caught? Max, that’s great news!”
“He’s been caught before. The man used to be a Navy SEAL and escaped from a supermax prison. Not a lot these days can keep him under lock and key. Ben will know what to do with him.”
“Is Ben bringing him here?”
“If Dupree ends up secured in Knoxville, I’m gonna meet Ben in St. Louis for the handoff.”
“I’m going with you.”
“St. Louis is a powder keg right now. Not safe, you’re staying here.”
“Max, don’t make me say it.”
“Elizabeth, I need you in charge here while I’m gone.”
“I really need to say it?”
“Elizabeth, please.”
“He killed our son, Maxwell! I’m coming with you!”
CHAPTER NINE
“You’re insane.”
“Dr. Biggs, while I will freely admit that I am a narcissistic sociopath, I am quite sane.”
“Are you joking?”
“Far from it. The icepick lodged in Mr. McCallon’s ear speaks to that poi
nt.”
Sebastian had actually forgotten about the corpse still in the room. The fact that Charles knew his true identity was enough to make the good doctor forget every facet of reality. The entire reason Dr. Biggs abandoned his previous life was so that his extensive knowledge of artificial intelligence wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. The last thing the world needed was another up and coming dictator like the late Simon Sterling creating an artificially intelligent war machine. Sebastian never imagined his knowledge of aeronautics would attract anyone.
“Dr. Biggs, I can assume you have two very basic questions – how and why? Am I correct?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, the reasons why I wish to embark on this endeavor need not concern you. How we will proceed from this point is quite the opposite.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you do! Come now, Sebastian! I can’t imagine you’d turn down such an opportunity.”
“You’ll forgive me if I doubt your abilities.”
“I’d be concerned if you didn’t. Trust me; your doubts will soon vanish.”
“You say your reasons don’t concern me. They concern me a great deal.”
“And why is that, Sebastian?”
“You really think I’m naïve enough to believe your motivations for getting into space are for science? For the good of mankind?”
“My goodness, Sebastian, why else would I want to embark upon such a grand endeavor? Is it so hard to believe that an old man at the end of his life would aspire to achieve something so remarkable?”
“I find it very hard to believe that all you want is to scratch an entry off your bucket list.”
“I’m sorry, and what is a ‘bucket list’? I’m not familiar with the term.”
“Really? You know, uh, things to do before you die … kick the bucket?”
“Ah, you Americans are so clever. I assume you’re worrying my plans center around some nefarious purpose?”
“That sums it up, yes.”
“I wonder, what evil plot can you envision?”
Redemption Page 6
