by Riley Flynn
“Yes, and I appreciate that. But she’s third on their list. The first two are Nguyen and Purcell.”
That got him. His face slackened and she could see the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks.
“Shit,” he breathed.
“Shit is right. We thought we got to them early enough, but apparently there were already people who missed Nguyen. Purcell not so much.”
“Purcell wouldn’t have known anyone here. He was shipped in at the last minute, like me. And you, too, I suppose.”
“In hindsight, it was a bad idea to have them both disappear at the same time. Then again, that particular month was full of bad decisions.”
She looked out the window to see the children wading in hip-deep snow in what used to be the hotel’s gardens. They were all grinning and playing. Even her sweet Lucas, withdrawn as he was, seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Do we really have to worry about this?” Smith asked. “There’s no physical evidence of the two of them. And how thorough of an investigation can we expect from a pair of soldiers?”
She took a deep breath and counted to five in her head rather than point out his stupidity.
“Stubbs was a Pueblo County deputy before the collapse. She might be better at it than you think.”
“So what are you suggesting?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want them dead, too?”
Keeping her temper was harder this time. The man was the equivalent of a lead pipe in a gorilla’s hand.
“I think there’s been enough death for now,” she said. “Go to Archer, tell him that they’re looking into the Peterson situation. That should be enough to get official sanction to keep tabs on Stubbs and Price without giving away anything about Nguyen and Purcell.” She touched his arm. “You know, the kind of work you used to do. Quinn always told me you were the best clandestine man in the business.”
Mentioning his former partner seemed to have the desired effect: Smith nodded, obviously believing the lie that Quinn had actually complimented him at some point.
“Agreed,” he said. “And it’s not like I don’t have the time on my hands.”
Really? she didn’t say. A popular fellow like you? Instead, she said: “That’s what I was thinking. Might as well put it to good use.”
“I’ll get on it immediately.”
Sidley smiled. “I have every confidence in you.”
He didn’t return the smile, but she thought he seemed lighter than when he’d come in.
“Just one question,” he said as he walked to the classroom door. “What do I do if they get too close to the truth?”
Her smile widened. “You’re a smart fellow, I’m sure you can figure it out. The best part is, Archer will have your back—he has no choice.”
9
Hank Archer looked bone tired, and it wasn’t even mid-afternoon yet. Jax noticed that what was left of the man’s hair had turned almost completely white since he took command of Cheyenne Mountain in September. He moved more slowly and he seemed to be constantly fighting a headache.
“You really didn’t think that one through, did you, son?” the old man said from behind his desk.
Jax had known the question was coming, but he still felt a pang of shame, the same way he did when his father would chew him out when he was a kid.
“We couldn’t have gotten away without official police much longer, sir, given how much discontent there is out there right now. The number of drunken fights alone was enough to justify it. Then there was the murder-suicide, and now the incident with Farries.”
“If we’d just gone with military police, we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking into Chase’s death. As for the sergeant, we could have handled his discipline in-house.”
“He resigned, sir. The army doesn’t have authority over him anymore.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
Jax cocked his head, unsure what to make of what he’d just heard.
“Sir, with all due respect, he’s a civilian now. As for military police, our relationship with the people is tenuous at best. Taking direct control over policing would invite even more resistance, and that’s exactly what the president doesn’t want.”
Archer’s face pinched into a scowl. “Tenuous relationship? This city would be a goddamn graveyard, just like all the others, if it wasn’t for us! They should fucking well drop to their knees and kiss our asses for saving them from themselves!”
Anger that was becoming all too familiar flared in Jax’s chest. “And I should be back in Germany, curled up next to Rachel beside a roaring fire and watching a movie with Hayley!” he snapped. “But I’m not, am I?”
The two men glared at each other for several moments, until Jax finally saw Archer’s eyes soften. The sudden weariness there made him wonder if the old man was even fit for duty anymore. How had it all come to this?
“You’re right, son,” Archer sighed. “I’m getting crabby in my old age. And I’m so fucking tired of keeping secrets.”
“My apologies, sir.” Jax took a breath, let it out. “I feel the same way. But the situation is what it is: we created a lie about Marcus Chase, and we’re at risk of the truth being uncovered. Neither of us can say for sure what the fallout would be, but with the mood people are in right now, I have to believe it would be a match on a powder keg.”
“Give me suggestions,” Archer said wearily. “I’m all ears.”
This was the moment Jax had come here for. He knew it was a risk, but he also knew it was a risk not to do it.
“I think we should bring Maggie Stubbs in on it.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not an option, Captain.”
“Do we have another one?”
“It’s also not just our call to make. There are only three people who have all the pieces to this puzzle: you, me and the president. There are a couple of colonels who know that the official narrative is a lie, but they don’t actually know the truth. They just followed my orders to cover it up.”
“So we get the president’s sign off, then.”
“That’s easy to say,” Archer sighed. “A little more difficult in practice. Believe me, Jax, even in this new republic, there are plenty of state secrets. It’s more like the old America than you might imagine.”
The comment was enough to spark a dozen questions in Jax’s mind, but he knew the answers were all above his pay grade. “I’ll go to him, sir. I created this situation.” He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “In more ways than one. If I hadn’t killed Chase, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Archer got up from his desk and walked over to Jax, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“You didn’t put that tumor in his brain, son,” he said. “God did that. Then he decided to end the world. You’re not to blame for that, and you’re not to blame for Chase’s death, either. It was an impossible situation.”
Jax nodded. “I know that. I just don’t have the stomach for secrets.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” Archer’s gaze was far away. “I’ve got a bellyful of them, and it’s all I can do to keep from throwing up.”
Again, Jax felt the questions coming, but he shoved them away. Archer was the closest thing he had left to a father, and he felt sorry for him, but it wasn’t his place to do anything except take the man’s orders.
“Get back to me once you talk to the president,” the general said. “We’ll go from there.”
“Maybe it should be the two of us?”
Archer shook his head. “I’d just end up ruining your case. Raines listens to you in a way he doesn’t listen to me, anyway. And don’t try to deny it; you know it’s true.”
Jax couldn’t argue. The president had taken to him as some sort of protégé from the outset. Of course, the reason for that had originally been a result of Jax killing the secretary of defense and joining in the cover-up. It was a relationship that had grown out of a lie.
That was rocky ground to rely on when the chips were down, an
d it would be stupid of him to think otherwise.
Smith didn’t know Henry Archer very well, but he knew enough to know the job was getting to him. He looked like a pile of old laundry these days.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Archer motioned him into the office and closed the door. Smith took a seat without being offered one.
“We’ve got a problem,” said Archer. “Our new police.”
Smith nodded. “Yes, sir. They’re looking into things they shouldn’t be.”
The look of surprise on the old man’s face was vaguely satisfying.
“How do you know that?” Archer snapped.
“It’s my job, General.”
Smith had always known things Archer didn’t, and he knew it pissed the general off. He also knew it was more than enough leverage to keep Archer from doing anything to him, other than take away a duty he never wanted in the first place. He still had his suite at the resort HQ, and for the most part, people left him alone.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Booth is going to ask Raines to declassify the truth about Marcus Chase’s death to Maggie Stubbs. You of all people know that’s a thread that cannot be tugged. Even Booth doesn’t know how far down that rabbit hole goes.”
Neither do you, Smith thought with mild contempt.
“I can’t do anything about the president, sir.”
Archer shook his head. “Raines will refuse. I need you to make sure that Stubbs doesn’t get too close.”
Well now, Smith thought. I’m getting the same assignment from two different bosses, independent of each other. How interesting.
“Yessir,” he said. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Hold on,” said Archer. “Let’s get a few things straight before you do. First, stay the hell out of sight.”
Smith arched an eyebrow. “What do you think I used to do before I got here, sir?”
“Yes, yes,” Archer sighed. “But also, don’t be—you know, you.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You come off as a smug prick, and you’ve been relieved of duty. People are going to naturally stay away from you if you try to blend in.” Archer rubbed his eyes. “I’m saying be normal. Are you capable of that?”
He nodded. “Sir.”
“Jesus Christ. I have absolutely zero faith that this is going to work.”
“It has to work, sir; there’s no other alternative. The secret has to be kept, by any means necessary.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said, sir: by any means necessary.”
The general stared at him for several moments before speaking. “You like your job way too much, Smith. You know that?”
“I live to serve.”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
Smith walked to the door, already contemplating his next move. Just as he turned the handle, Archer called out from behind him.
“And for Christ’s sake, be normal. The last thing we need is for you to draw even more attention to this thing.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.” Smith nodded and opened the door. “But I can’t promise anything.”
10
The first thing Maggie noticed when she and Price walked into the bowling alley cum community center downtown was the word “Fast Lanez” spelled out in stylized red and blue neon behind the bar. Someone had obviously thought it would be fun to plug in the sign and brighten up the place.
“We should tell them to unplug that,” said Price. “It’s an unnecessary draw on the grid.”
Maggie smiled and shook her head. “That’s just mean-spirited and petty enough to be worthy of the kind of cops we don’t want to be, Brian.”
She’d had her fair share of run-ins with that kind of cop in her life before the collapse: all of them men, all of them looking to start a fight that they knew they had the advantage in. Kenny Clayton had been different, and he was the kind of cop she wanted to be.
“I suppose you’re right,” Price sighed. “Not the hill to die on. Still, a little barroom brawl would be a great way to establish our presence in the community.”
“Jesus,” she said. “How you ever ended up on Jax’s diplomatic team is beyond me. Besides, we already did that with a gang of coked-up newcomers a few months ago, remember?”
He grinned. “Ah, the good old days.”
She slapped his arm and they took a seat at one of the high tables, the kind with barstools instead of chairs. At least forty people had staked out their spots for a night of drowning their sorrows, though Maggie noted a few actually looked to be enjoying themselves. She thought of the Shakespeare line about “the winter of our discontent.” This wasn’t what the bard had meant, of course, but then again, he’d never lived through the collapse and then the winter of the century in Colorado Springs, either.
Price emerged from a back room with a couple of Coors tallboys. Downtown people had taken to keeping several dozen cases of beer near the door that led to the alley. They could pop a few cases outside for twenty minutes or so, then into a snow-filled Coleman cooler for cold beer all night. The hard stuff they just left sitting in the snowbank.
They popped the tops and raised their cans to each other before taking their first swig. A lot of people had taken to micro-breweries and craft beers in the decade before the collapse, but Maggie had always believed Coors at this temperature was damn near unbeatable.
A scan of the bowling alley showed that the supply shelves on the lanes were looking a bit bare, which was to be expected. Transporting them wasn’t as easy with so much snow on the ground. Foraging wasn’t easy, either, and a lot of usable food was currently frozen solid. Worse, people had gotten into the habit of throwing their leftovers into the snow, which was attracting rabbits into the city by the thousands. That had led to coyotes everywhere, and even some wolf sightings within the city limits, now that they had an unlimited supply of fat rabbits to lure them away from the cattle in the outlying areas around Colorado Springs.
“Heads up,” said Price, tilting his chin to his left. “Never thought I’d ever see that.”
She turned and was surprised to see Col. Smith sitting at a table by himself. He was in civilian clothes, and his hair was considerably longer than it had been the last time she saw him. Under other circumstances, and if she didn’t know him, she might almost have found him attractive.
“What the hell is he doing here?” she wondered aloud.
“Nobody I know has seen him in months,” said Price. “Booth told me Archer was mad as a wet cat when he took away Smith’s duties. Maybe he was drummed out for being such a meathead.”
“I think we’d have heard if that was the case.” She sipped her beer. “Then again, he is in civilian clothes in public.”
“Maybe he’ll get drunk and we can bust him for disorderly conduct.”
She was about to tell Price he had a one-track mind when Smith suddenly looked over and the two locked eyes. Shit, she groaned inwardly. Then he smiled and raise his glass to her, which was almost enough to make her fall off her stool.
“What did you do?” Price whispered with alarm. “Jesus, he’s coming over here.”
Maggie’s heartrate quickened as she saw the colonel get up from his chair and head in their direction. An instant later, she took a breath and scolded herself.
“It’s fine,” she hissed back. “He’s not our CO anymore. He’s just another survivor. And remember, we’re cops now.”
The ridiculousness of the situation was almost enough to make her giggle if Smith hadn’t been so close to their table. As he reached them, it took a few moments for her to reconcile the fact that he was smiling.
Col. John Smith was smiling.
“Major,” he said. “Lieutenant. Or do those titles still apply these days? Should I call you officers instead?”
The way he said it was as odd as the smile: small talk. From Smith.
“I, uh, I’m fine with Magg
ie,” she heard herself say. “How are you, Colonel?”
“If you’re Maggie, I’m John,” he said. “And I’m good, thanks.”
They sat in silence for several seconds, Maggie steadfastly avoiding eye contact. To her right, Price simply scowled.
“Look, I get it,” Smith said finally. “This is awkward. But I’m really trying to get to know people these days. I know, it took me long enough. And I’ll be the first person to admit I wasn’t suited for command. I deserve to be where I am.”
Maggie and Price exchanged a glance. Was this really happening?
“I won’t argue with you,” said Price. “A lot of good men died in those mountains. I don’t know for sure if you could have prevented that, but I don’t know that you couldn’t have, either.”
Smith looked at the table and nodded. “I ask myself that question every day, Major.”
Maggie saw from Price’s expression that the answer had caught him off guard; he’d been expecting a fight.
“Uh, Brian,” he said. “Go ahead and call me Brian.”
Smith nodded. “I appreciate that, Brian. I’ve discovered recently that people seem to be more forgiving these days than they used to be. You know, before. I think spending more time with civilians is going to teach me a lot.”
A phrase her maternal grandmother had been fond of ran through Maggie’s mind: Well, slap my tits and call me Sally! Col. John Smith’s lines tonight were the very definition of shock and awe. Before she realized what she was doing, she raised her beer can in a toast.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” she said.
Smith smiled and lifted his glass. The liquid inside was clear. “To new beginnings.”
“Up yer dividends,” said Price, draining the rest of his Coors. He pointed at Maggie’s can. “Another?”
“Why not?” she said, surprised to discover there was a smile on her face.
“Colonel? I mean John?”
“I’m good.”
“Scotch, if yer buying,” said a voice from behind her. She turned to see Brad Farries swaying on his feet. His hair was completely wild now, and he reeked of sweat and dirty clothes. He obviously hadn’t bathed in the time since she and Price had sent him on his way days earlier, and he’d been pretty ripe even then.