State of War

“How are we doing, Lieutenant?”

“Just fine, sir. We got the easy stuff on board. The rest is being hauled from the warehouse by truck. We’ll be packed and ready to rock by 0200.”

“Good. Go home, get some sleep, and be back here by 0600.”

“Yes, sir.”

Howard looked at his watch. He should go home and get some sleep, too.

Washington, D.C.

When Howard got home, Tyrone was in the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich. Dagwood would have been proud of the concoction Tyrone was cobbling together — three different kinds of meat, two cheeses, lettuce, tomato, pickles, sliced onion, three slices of bread, mayo, mustard, catsup. It was a monster.

Howard decided to keep it light. He said, “Lost your appetite, huh?”

Tyrone said, “Yeah, I can’t seem to make myself eat much.”

Howard waited a second, then said, “So how are you, son? You okay?”

Tyrone blew out a soft sigh. “I don’t know.” He paused in his sandwich construction.

Howard nodded. He’d been through this with seasoned veterans, longtime soldiers who’d trained for years but never had to actually shoot another person. When they did, it hit them, sometimes hard.

And Tyrone was no seasoned soldier. He was just a fifteen-year-old boy.

“Tell me about it, son.”

Tyrone gave a little shrug. “I shot a man, Dad. This guy was alive yesterday. Now he’s dead.”

Howard nodded. “You’re right, Tyrone,” he said. “That’s a serious thing, and never, ever something done lightly. But you didn’t cause that situation, son.”

“I know,” Ty said. “That man was coming to kill Little Alex. Probably, anyway. But it’s for sure that he was going to kill me. I saw him point that gun at me. I saw his finger tighten.” He looked at his father. “He tried to kill me, Dad. No one’s ever done that before. The thing is, I still keep feeling that I should have tried something else. Shooting him in the shoulder, maybe.”

Howard shook his head. “You did the right thing, son,” he said. “We’ve talked about weapons before, about things like stopping power and the different calibers. That.22 of yours makes a great target piece, but it’s not very good at stopping a man.” He looked directly into Tyrone’s eyes, ignoring the sandwich, ignoring the way his son’s hand had started to shake slightly, ignoring everything but the communication, the contact, that was happening between them at this moment. “You did the right thing, Ty. Had you tried anything else, had you shot him in the shoulder, you would probably not have stopped him. He’d have fired back at you, and he’d have killed you, and then he would have done whatever he’d come to do to Little Alex.” He paused again, letting that sink in for a moment, and then he repeated. “You did the right thing. You did the only thing. He gave you no other choice.”

Tyrone nodded, but Howard wasn’t sure how much his words had helped. Ty was in a spot where words could only do so much. He had to work through this on his own. His dad could be there for him, to answer some of the tough questions, and to point him in the right direction, but it was up to Ty to get through this.

John knew he would, though. He was a good kid, with a good heart, and a good head on his shoulders. And besides, everything Howard had just told him was the truth. He had done the right thing, the only thing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Ty said. He picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite. “I love you.”

At least, that’s what it sounded like he said. It was hard to tell around that mouthful of sandwich.

Howard smiled. “I love you, too,” he said. “And I am very, very proud of you, Ty.”

* * *

Michaels and Toni were in bed, the baby sleeping between them. Alex had his right hand resting on Little Alex’s chest, rising and falling slightly with his son’s breathing. His left hand rested on the pillow, holding Toni’s hand tenderly.

“Guru will be back tomorrow,” she said.

“That’s good.”

“What time are you leaving?”

“John wants to take off around six thirty.”

“You be careful,” she said, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Alex smiled. “Ames is a lawyer, not a Navy SEAL.”

Toni shook her head. “He has guns. He belongs to a gun club.”

“I’ll be careful,” Alex said.

They lay quietly for a moment. “So, what do you think about Colorado?” Alex asked.

“Colorado?”

He nodded. “I got offered a job as head of corporate computer security for Aspen International, remember? Twice the money, half the work, complete with a car, expense account, and country-club membership.”

She hesitated. “Maybe I was a little upset before,” she said.

Alex shook his head. “No, hon, you were a lot upset. And you had a right to be. You weren’t wrong. It’s time to move on.”

Another long pause. “We’ll have to get a house big enough for Guru, and for when Susie comes to visit.”

Alex smiled. “They have big houses out there. I bet we could find one.”

Toni looked at him, her eyes holding his steadily for a long moment. “Are you sure about this, Alex?”

“I have never been more sure about anything, Toni. Well, except that marrying you was a good idea.”

That got a big smile from her.

He loved to make her smile.

39

Odessa, Texas

Ames arose at dawn, showered, dressed, made himself a cup of coffee, and then hiked to the emergency escape hatch past the garbage dump. Once there, he climbed the three flights of stairs up to the surface. The door, a hydraulically operated vaultlike monster, was designed to keep out the riffraff fleeing atomic attack. Disc-shaped, it was slightly larger in diameter than a manhole cover, two feet thick, and hinged like a jeweler’s loupe. It pivoted on a massive, tempered pin as big around as a large man’s arm. It was camouflaged on the surface by a flat stretch of sand on a motorized frame that raised up on command. When the sand frame was in place, the entrance was virtually invisible. And even if you knew it was there, opening it would be a major chore without the proper keys, codes, and commands.

Ames used the periscope hidden in a creosote bush to check and make sure nobody was around. When he was certain that everything was clear, he pushed the door control button. It took thirty seconds for the sand frame to rise high enough for the door to pivot open.

He climbed up and out, standing under the sand frame, which now stood some seven feet above the ground.

This was the best time of day if you wanted to go outside here in the summer. It was as cool as it was going to get this time of year, and only the jackrabbits and birds were stirring. There were no other humans for as far as he could see, though a distant jet contrail arrowed across the pale, cloudless sky, too far away for him to hear the craft that created it.

Quiet, peaceful, and all his…

He spent ten minutes or so breathing the fresh air, glad to be out of the confines of the bomb shelter, laying his plans for the coming days and weeks. Satisfied, he went back inside, shut the door and lowered the frame, and headed back along the echoing tile corridor toward the kitchen. He had in mind salmon hash and eggs for breakfast this morning, and maybe a mimosa to wash in down.

He grinned. Wonder what the poor folks are doing this morning.

Bush Air Force Base Odessa, Texas

The Net Force jet was nearly there by the time dawn broke locally, pacing the sun from the east. They would have all day to get set, plenty of time.