To his surprise, the 4-Runner was parked by Wilderness Adventures. They went inside. Ken was there, although he was as battered as they were. He looked them over when they walked in. “You both look like hell,” he said.
“You look in the mirror, old man?” Rand said, shaking his hand.
“Try not to,” he agreed. “On the other hand, we’re alive.”
He looked at Mac. “Brought your rig out,” he said.
“Saw that,” Mac said. “Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to that chore.”
“Had to get my own out,” he said. “One more was no big deal. Tow truck driver commented that yours was heavier than it should be, though.”
The three of them looked at each other and cracked up. “Ouch,” Mac said. “Laughing hurts with broken ribs.”
Ken nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Been there, done that.”
He paused. “You did good, Marine,” he said.
“You weren’t so shabby either for an Army grunt,” Mac replied.
Rand rolled his eyes.
“Stuff it, Mr. FBI agent,” Ken said. “You’ve been moonlighting for me for years, and never mentioned your real job?”
Rand shrugged. “Never came up,” he said. “And when they needed someone inside on this? What am I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, you probably didn’t know this, but I’m FBI?”
“Would have fired your ass,” he agreed.
“Am I fired?” Rand asked seriously. “Because I like the work. Minus the white supremacists, anyway.”
“Might be a while before we’re doing trips again,” Ken said. “That SOB Peabody pulled my permits and licenses. But I’ll give you a call.”
He looked at Mac. “And yes, I gave Kevin a job too. He’s a better fit with me than driving truck. When I’m back up and running.”
Mac nodded. Kevin was a better fit, especially now, he thought. Because after that disaster of a weekend, he’d have PTSD like the rest of the men Ken Bryson hired. But he’d done the job and gotten Mac out. Couldn’t ask for more than that in a partner.
Rand dropped Mac off at the end of the drive and let him walk in. Mac found even that left him tired and hurting. He sighed. It wasn’t his first recovery stint. Recovering took longer and was more tedious than getting the injuries in the first place. Always was.
Mac broke into Sensei’s house easily. It was a nice house, rustic-looking on the outside, comfortable and modern inside. He explored it from top to bottom, looking in drawers, cupboards and closets. He found his office computer, and following Shorty’s instructions, he pulled the hard-drive, router and cords and shoved them into his backpack. The books on the shelves were interesting, and he photographed them carefully. God, he even had Turner Diaries, Mac thought with disgust. Did he never have visitors? He might as well have a Confederate flag or Nazi paraphernalia sitting out. But near as Mac could tell from his research, Sensei was a loner.
But this wasn’t the house of a man who was barricaded in because SHTF paranoia. Mac frowned. He then proceeded to go through the house a second time. Somewhere the man had a bunker, an arsenal. Be a good thing to know before he confronted him.
It was hiding in plain sight — almost. What looked like stairs to a root cellar off the kitchen actually went down to a nice bomb shelter left over from the ’50s — probably when the house was built. And it was outfitted for when SHTF, part prepper, part militia. Well, well, Sensei actually believes what he preaches, Mac thought as he looked over the weaponry — a more thoughtful selection than what they were pulling out of the wannabes’ homes. He closed the door and went upstairs to the man’s office. He sat in the chair behind the desk and made a list of questions.
Edward Peabody came home for lunch and as soon as he opened the back door he knew someone had been inside. He pulled the pistol from his jacket pocket and moved quietly through the kitchen and into the living room. He checked out the guestroom, cleared the dining room, and then taking a deep breath, he went upstairs.
No one in his bedroom, but he knew someone had been there. He was a tidy man and things weren’t quite as he left them. He checked his bathroom, but he was pretty sure if someone was still here waiting for him, he was in his study.
Or the bunker. He hadn’t cleared it. He hesitated. Then decided to check the study while he was up here.
He opened the study door and saw Mac sitting at his desk.
Mac looked up. “Hello, Sensei,” he said.
Peabody came into the room, put his pistol back in his pocket. “Mac? What are you doing in my home?”
Mac rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re going to try and bluff your way out?” He shook his head. “I’ve spent the last three days of my hospital stay researching you. I know you. Although your house is interesting. Your books are even more interesting.”
Peabody took a seat in the armchair next to the bookshelves. It swiveled so he could face the man who had staked his claim to his desk. His eyes narrowed when he saw the vandalized computer.
“And what do you think you know about me that you didn’t from our tour a few weeks back?” Peabody asked.
“Let’s start with that tour,” Mac agreed. “You were so blunt about Norton. It seemed strange, but your frustration was understandable. Norton wasn’t responding to your rangers’ calls for help. But what was really worrying you was that Norton wasn’t responding to Sensei’s instructions either. And you knew enough about the rise and fall of militia to know he was
