“She’ll be back.”
“Maybe, and maybe all this is some sort of little tricky game you cooked up inside that pretty head. We’ll see about it. Right now, you get me hard. You know how I like it.”
Sabra shifted positions without hesitation and took the mercenary orally. Her breast still hurt from the squeezing of Hartline’s hard hand. There were too many lives at stake for her to slip now. She was committed. But had she known what Hartline was thinking while she performed fellatio on him, Sabra would have cheerfully bitten his cock off.
“How are we receiving these from Levant?” Ben asked, after reading the first secret communique from the senior FBI agent.
“Scrambled radio messages on an old military frequency,” Cecil told him. “The man’s taking a hell of a chance doing this. Got to admire his courage.”
“So Lowry got to all these top senators and representatives through fear.”
“And rape,” Ike said. “These others,” he pointed to the second row of names, “are the ones President Addison can trust. The only ones who would vote aye on anything Addison proposed.”
“But not enough of them to make any difference,” Ben noted.
“Yeah. Lowry’s slick, no doubt about it. But this other message, right down there, interests me more.”
The message read:
Lowry might be unstable. Showing signs of slight mental deterioration. Believed the VP about to ask Hartline to set up liaison with NBC chief in Richmond, Sabra Olivier. Has video tape of lady with Hartline; watches it daily. Must warn you if lady is playing games, she is playing in the big leagues, way out of her field. If aforementioned lady is working with you people, ease her out. Hartline is insane, but brilliantly so. If he discovers the game—if any—the lady will die hard.
“You know what this tells me?” Cecil said.
Ben and Ike glanced at the black educator-turned-Rebel.
“The Secret Service is not happy with Lowry either. Levant has some of them on his side, as well.”
“Yeah,” Ike slowly nodded his head in agreement. “No other way he could have gotten this without their help. Or at least it would have been very difficult.” He glanced at Ben; but the man appeared deep in thought. “Ben?”
“Maybe we can do this without a lot of bloodshed,” Ben finally spoke. “Maybe we can pull a Banana Republic coup d’etat.”
“Assassination?” Cecil asked.
“Those guys aren’t exactly your average hit-type person,” Ike reminded him. “They’re a pretty true-blue bunch of men and women. You know what I mean.”
Ben grinned at his friend. “Not like us old Hell Hounds and SEALs, eh, Ike?”
Ike returned his grin, the gesture taking years off the Mississippi-born Medal of Honor-winner. “Yeah. They ain’t been trained with piano wire and K-Bars. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’m not questioning their courage. They’d die for the people they’re protecting—that’s one of the risks of the job. But to cold-bloodedly kill… I don’t know, Ben.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Cecil injected. “If there is a chance we can stop any further mass bloodshed; any way to get this country out from under Cody and Lowry and Hartline… it’s worth it.”
“All right, let’s see if Levant goes along with it,” Ben said. “All he can do is tell us no; he can’t say any more than that without exposing his own position.”
“I wish there was some way to help the Olivier girl, Nancy,” Ike said. “Fifteen is a rough age to be initiated into the kinkiness of a noodle like Hartline.”
“I prefer not to think about it,” Ben said. “But I must admit, I haven’t been successful since Miss Hickman mentioned it. And speaking of Miss Hickman…” Ben cut his eyes.
The reporter was walking along a path with Dawn. Roanna had been in the camp for less than twenty-four hours, had successfully passed her PSE testing, and then, to Ben’s surprise, had voluntarily requested the hypnosis testing. She looked a little shaky, with Dawn holding on to her elbow.
“Doctor Harris said she fought the drug,” Cecil said. “Seems she had some… events in her past she was reluctant to bring under the light of memory, to use his words.”
“Oh?” Ben looked at him.
“Nothing to do with us,” Cecil assured him. “Childhood matters—before the big war of ‘88.”
“Abuse?” Ike asked.
“Yes—of the worst kind. When the world exploded, her mother was off on a trip to New York. Roanna was seventeen. Seems her father picked that moment to… ah… resume his molestation. Roanna killed him with his own .38. Doctor Harris said she broke down under the drugs and wept for a long time. Said he believes she finally got it out of her system—the memories and the guilt associated with the killing. That must be a terrible thing.”
“She looks pretty damn tough to me,” Ike said. “And comes across that way, too. But maybe that’s just some kind of act.”
“Coping,” Ben said. “Defense coloration.” But his eyes were not on the NBC reporter, but on Dawn. He had seen quite a lot of her in the
For a moment, he was reminded of his last moments with Salina…
In the last days of the mopping up in the Tri-States, only a few thousand men and women had made it out of the Tri-States alive. It had taken the government thirty-five days to crush the dream of Ben Raines and his followers.
Now, in a mountainous, heavily wooded area, west and north of the Tri-States capital, Vista, HQ’s company of Tri-States’ Rebels prepared to fight their last fight. Most of them had been together for years. The children with the company should have been gone and safe by now, but they’d been cut off and forced to return to the main body. It was now back to alpha, and omega was just around the corner, waiting for most of them.
There was a way out, but it was a long shot.
Ben sat talking with his adopted twins, Jack and Tina.
“Jack, you’ve got to look after Salina, now. I’m going to split the company and lead a diversion team. I think it’s our only way out. I’ll be all right, son; don’t worry about me. I’m still an ol’ curly wolf with some tricks up my sleeve.”
“Then you’ll join us later?” Tina asked, tears running down her face.
“Sure. Count on it.” Ben shook Jack’s hand and kissed Tina. “Go on, now, join up with Colonel Elliot. I want to talk with your mother.”
Salina came to his side, slipping her hand in his. They were both grimy from gunsmoke and dirt and sweat. Ben thought she had never looked more beautiful than during her pregnancy; she had stood like a dusty Valkyrie by his side, firing an M-16 during the heaviest of fighting.
“We didn’t have much time together, did we, Ben?”
“We have a lot of time left us, babe,” Ben replied gently.
She smiled; a sad smile. “Con the kids, General. Don’t try to bullshit me.”
“I wish we’d had more time,” Ben said ruefully. He kissed her, very gently, very tenderly, without passion or lust. A man kissing a woman good-bye.
Salina grasped at the moment. “Is there any chance at all?”
“Not much of one.” He leveled with her.
She tried a smile, then suddenly began to weep, softly, almost silently. “I love you, Ben Raines,” she said, kissing him. She smiled through the tears. “Even if you are a honky.”
“And I love you, Salina.” He fought back his own tears to return her smile. “Now you step ‘n’ fetch yore ass on outta here, baby.”
And together they laughed.
Ben helped her to her feet, gazed at her for a moment, then left her, walking away to join the group he was
