“That came in two weeks ago, after our meeting with the president,” Granata said.
“Does the president know?” Pug asked.
“We’ve told Ambassador Prescott, but as yet, I’ve not personally advised the president. Perhaps Prescott did, but don’t count on it.”
Pug drew in a deep breath. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, it appears, and it means I’ll have to remain even further in the background for awhile. And don’t either of you underestimate Grant Sully. His network goes deep, and despite our jesting earlier about respective domestic and international limitations between the CIA and the FBI, his network is
“Colonel Connor,” Agent Bentley said, smiling, “so do we. Or, as task-force head, perhaps I should say, so do
“Well,” Pug said, stretching his arms over his head, interlocking his fingers and cracking his knuckles, “it’s always nice to be traded to a winning team.”
Chapter 14
Cache Valley, California
Puffing hard himself as they reached the crest, Dan knew that his grandfather, Jack Rumsey, was tiring. They’d hiked four miles from where they’d left the car, most of it uphill, but Jack was still hanging in there. Dan was impressed by his grandfather’s stamina-into his eighties and still going strong.
With several fishing places to choose from, Dan felt compelled to ease Jack’s burden.
“How about Pleasant Lake, Jack?” Dan queried, knowing the clearing where they usually camped was only another few hundred yards distant.
Leaning forward, his hands on his knees, breathing hard and sweating, Jack smiled. “What’s the matter? That desk job made you soft?”
“Not like in the old days, eh, Jack, when the ships were wood and the men were iron?”
“Watch your mouth, kid.” Jack replied. “Why’d you choose this place anyway? We just about fished it out years ago.”
“The truth?” Dan said.
“No, I want you to lie to me, you smart-mouthed pup,” the older man retorted.
“Two reasons. We haven’t been fishing in a long time, and I felt I needed to get away for a bit.” He grinned at his grandfather. “And two, one of the guard officers told me his Shasta Brigade squad would be on maneuvers up here this weekend. I’d kind of like to have a look.”
Jack cocked an eyebrow at Dan and shook his head. “You thinking of joining with the brigade boys?”
“They’ve asked me,” Dan replied. “Several times, in fact. But I have no intention of joining. I just want to see what’s up.”
“And you brought me along for protection?” Jack suggested.
“Something like that.” Dan laughed, dropping his pack.
Jack shucked his pack and stretched his back muscles.
Both men stood for a few moments, enjoying the vista provided by the lake, framed against the coastal range mountains. After setting up a lean-to shelter and clearing a place for the fire, Dan assembled his fly rod and took a small packet of flies from the backpack.
“Second fish cooks, Jack.”
Jack stood stone-faced. “Hope you cook better than last time, young Rawlings. I’m looking forward to a couple days of servitude from the next generation.”
“Better plan on serving your grandson-then you won’t be disappointed,” Dan challenged. “After all, you taught me everything you know.”
“No, son,” Jack replied, slowly dragging out his words as he tied a homemade “Jack Special” fly onto his leader. “I taught you all
Later, Jack lay back and watched the stars begin to appear while Dan finished frying the trout and potatoes.
“Grub’s on,” Dan finally called.
Jack rattled his mess kit and stepped over to the campfire, waiting while Dan flipped a slightly blackened, filleted trout one more time in his frying pan.
“Years ago, I discovered how much better Rainbow trout can taste when prepared and served by someone else. Catching ’em is my contribution.”
“Better shake a leg, Jack. This one’s in danger of burning up if you give me any more lip.”
After full dark, utensils cleaned, and a peaceful quiet settled in around the lake, Jack sat watching as Dan lit the Coleman lantern then arranged the sleeping bags.
“How long have I been bringing you here, Dan?” Jack asked as the younger man moved about with evening chores before settling down.
“Over twenty years, I suppose. I think I was five or six the first time.”
“And before that-before you were born, in fact,” Jack said, reminiscing. “I took your sister fishing in the back streams of Alaska during my years up there. Brave lass she was, too. Kodiak bear upstream as we waded in the water, salmon swirling around our hip-waders lookin’ for a place to spawn. You should’ve seen that slip of a girl- couldn’t have been more than twelve-in her hip-waders. Looked like chest waders, all folded down to her size. Seems like only yesterday.” The older man reached with a stick to stir the fire, then said, “It’s been a good life. No complaints to speak of, except losing your grandmother too soon.”
Dan continued straightening up the campsite, thinking about his grandmother’s death and the struggle Jack had gone through to adjust to life without her. Dan had always been close to his grandfather, but when Susan died, it was as though they added another dimension to their relationship.
Dan put away the last scrap of food, out of smell and sight of any nocturnal animals, then pulled a sweater over his head and came to sit on a log near the fire. They sat for a time, enjoying the warmth and colors of the blaze.
“Jack, you told me some time back you were opposed to the secession, but what do you think is going to happen? What should I expect?”
The old man sat quietly for a few moments, drinking his coffee.
“That what you brought me up here for, son?”
“No. I just wanted to cook your meals, blow up your air mattress, and see to your every comfort,” Dan kidded. “Seriously, Granddad, when I was drilling with my guard unit a few weeks back, some of us were discussing the next election. One of the other officers-a ‘brigade boy,’ as you call ’em-challenged me that one day I might be called upon to decide if I was going to be an American or a Californian. If the previous election results are any indicator, it looks as though we might have to make that choice.”
“You think it could come to that?”
“Can’t tell yet, Granddad. But a lot of folks are pressing the issue. And some powerful organizations-financial and political-are behind the push.”
“And you?” Jack asked.
“You know how I feel about this valley, Jack. And I know what you told me after the primaries-about being an American.”
Jack nodded. “I guess you think you’ve heard all the family stories, don’t you?”
“Yep,” Dan said, looking at his grandfather through the flickering sparks rising up from the campfire into the darkness.
“The twins, Howard and Frank-I told you about them?”
