A Time for Patriots

a wide grin. His men immediately laid their weapons on the ground so the FBI agents could clearly see them. “I’ll bet it’s a real important call. Don’t you worry none about any of us, son — we ain’t gonna move a muscle.”

With the other agent covering the odd group, Chastain pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket — and everyone could see his jaw drop in surprise when he read the caller ID. “Chastain,” he said. “Go ahead, sir… Yes, I’m in charge of this incident, the airspace violation and the… Excuse me, sir?… You’re saying there was no violation because the airspace in this area had been cleared because of the Civil Air Patrol search-and-rescue operation?” Patrick could see Andorsen’s grin become even wider. “But, sir, I was advised that the entire national airspace system is still shut down and… What, sir?… I see… All the airspace except for this particular area. So there never was any violation, even though the military controllers at Battle Mountain had… Yes, sir… Yes, yes… Yes, sir, right away.” The call ended abruptly. The agent named Chastain half turned to his partner and spoke in a low tone, and moments later he holstered his weapon.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir,” Chastain said. “Have a nice day.” And just like that, both FBI agents climbed back into their car and drove off.

“Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of,” Andorsen said as his men picked up their weapons and headed back to their truck. “Deputy, mind takin’ those cuffs off my friends?” The deputy hustled to comply, and finally Patrick and Leo returned to the helicopter, rubbing sore wrists. “I apologize for the mix-up, guys, but it’s all good now,” Andorsen said. He turned to the officials behind him. “I’m going to fly these gents for a little meeting back at the ranch, Patrick, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask the deputy to drive you back to the ranch to get your plane. Don’t worry about the airspace — you shouldn’t have no more problems.” He stuck out a hand, and Patrick shook it. “It was a real honor meeting you, General, a real honor. I’ll see you soon.” He shook hands with Leo and offered seats in his helicopter to the county and state officials by his side.

Patrick and Leo retrieved their flight bags — they had been unceremoniously dumped out of the helicopter by one of Andorsen’s men — and walked in silent confusion back to the cruiser that they had been locked up in for the past two hours. Neither they nor the sheriff’s deputy said anything for the ninety-minute-long ride back to Andorsen’s airstrip. The helicopter was already there, as were a number of official-looking vehicles parked outside the ranch house.

“What just happened back there?” Patrick finally asked after they had been dropped off beside the CAP Cessna 182.

“I knew Andorsen was a big name around Nevada,” Leo said, “but I never realized how big. Call the sheriff? His man calls the district attorney. Call the Highway Patrol? He calls the Nevada attorney general. The FBI shows up? He’s got the U.S. attorney general on speed dial. It looked as if that special agent saw his entire career flash before his eyes back there.”

Patrick shook his head in confusion as he withdrew his cell phone and called the Battle Mountain CAP headquarters. Spara answered the phone. “Rob, sorry I couldn’t check in, but—”

“Just get back here, Patrick,” Spara interrupted. “No flight release, no pilot pro stuff, no special clearance — just get back here ASAP. The Class-C airspace is all yours — hell, just about all the airspace over northern Nevada belongs to you.”

“What’s going on?”

“The phone has been ringing off the hook all morning, and I’m expecting to hear from the frickin’ president next,” Spara said wearily. “Your new buddy Andorsen is one connected dude, and that’s putting it mildly . Get back here soonest.” And he hung up.

The oddities continued after Patrick took off from the dirt airstrip. The F-16C Fighting Falcon interceptor was gone, but it had been replaced with a Nevada Air National Guard HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopter, which moved into position on the Cessna’s left side. Its pilot did not respond to any calls on GUARD or approach control frequencies. Patrick was cleared for immediately landing at Battle Mountain when still fifty miles away from the airport, and was instructed not to change frequencies, even after he landed. Base security vehicles — including an AN/UWQ-1 unmanned Avenger air-defense and ground-security vehicle, and a driverless Humvee carrying eight Stinger heat- seeking missiles and a.50-caliber radar-guided machine gun — escorted the Cessna to the Civil Air Patrol hangar.

It seemed as if the entire squadron was there to greet Patrick and Leo after they climbed out of the Cessna. Rob Spara was standing at the left entry door when Patrick got out. “Don’t worry about putting the plane away, Patrick,” he said. “They want to do a debrief. Now.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Patrick asked.

“Hell, General, dip your spoon into the alphabet-soup bowl ten times and you’ll come up with a dozen different answers,” Spara said. “We’ve got every agency in the book out here, and several I’ve never heard of — and I expect those are the ones you created.”

Base Air Force Security Forces airmen were there to control the crowd around Patrick and Leo, but Bradley was able to break free of the squadron members being corralled away from the arrival and meet up with his father. For the second time in a day, Patrick enjoyed an unexpected hug from his son. “Hey, big guy,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say except, “You made it back okay.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Dad,” Brad said, hugging his father tightly. He held his father for several precious seconds, then released him and said breathlessly, “They put us in the break room and wouldn’t let us talk to anyone. Then they let us out, but we had to stay in the hangar. Then we had to go back to the break room, and they took away our cell phones. There are weird guys talking into their sleeves everywhere. Man, everyone is freaking out around here!”

“Things are tense, big guy,” Patrick said. “A major terrorist incident just happened.”

“But what do we got to do with it?” Brad asked. “They’re acting as if we had something to do with it!”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Patrick said. “Reno is nearby; we had a violation of restricted airspace; we didn’t respond the way they wanted—”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Patrick said. “You’re home, I’m home, no one got hurt, you got a find and a save — those are the important things. Let me talk to these guys real quick and then we’ll go home.”

There were six men and a woman in the small break room when Patrick, Leo, and Rob entered. They had laptop computers set up on the countertops. As soon as they entered the room, one of the men began frisking them, and not gently either. To Patrick’s surprise, the lead agent was the same one who had confronted them at the abandoned airport at Valmy! There was also a very attractive female agent whom Patrick had not seen before.

“I’m Special Agent Philip Chastain, FBI,” the lead agent said, still working on his laptop while the inspection continued. He was tall and young-looking with thick dark hair and a square jaw — Patrick thought he looked like a Hollywood actor portraying a federal agent. Chastain gestured over his shoulder with a pen at the others. “That’s Special Agent Brady and Agent Renaldo of the Department of Homeland Security. Empty your pockets on the counter here.” Patrick and Leo did as they were told. Chastain examined Patrick’s documents first and typed more instructions into his laptop; Patrick could see a small flare of surprise when some information came in. “General Patrick McLanahan.” The jaws of the others in the room dropped and their eyes widened in surprise.

Chastain quickly shook away his initial reaction and assumed a very serious expression. “Both of you are being video- and audio-recorded. What were you doing flying in that helicopter toward the base?”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights first, Agent Chastain?” Patrick asked.

“Considering what happened yesterday in Reno and the seriousness of your violation, I assumed you’d waive your right to an attorney, cooperate fully with this investigation, and agree to answer my questions.”

“You assumed incorrectly, Agent Chastain.”

“Everyone else has been answering questions, including your son and the other ground-team members.”

“I’ll warn my son against talking to law enforcement officials without his father present,” Patrick said, his voice low and his eyes boring directly into Chastain’s, “and I’m warning you against speaking with him again unless I’m present. He’s still a minor.”

“You’re in serious trouble, General,” Chastain said, matching Patrick’s warning gaze. “If I were you, I’d do less warning and more cooperating.”

“Bring my attorney here and let me talk with her, and then I will cooperate,” Patrick said. “I want my attorney.”