“How do you think Kane will respond to seeing us?” Jack asked.
Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Joshua reflected on the recent camp meeting in which Kane had lost his cool when John Moore publicly questioned whether the camp should pledge allegiance to the American flag given that the United States was now essentially nonexistent. While he was not yet ready to throw in the towel on America, part of Joshua agreed with John’s sentiment. At the same time, he understood Kane’s perspective. Kane was an important member of the camp, and his connection to Joshua had come through the late Bob Kendall. Without Bob, Joshua and the others would likely never have made it to the mountains, and almost certainly would not have survived the first year. Joshua wanted to bring Kane back into the fold, in part out of respect for Bob, and in part because the camp needed him.
Five minutes later they reached the clearing where Kane had maintained his campsite and where Bob Kendall’s tent had sat undisturbed since his death. The two logs still sat adjacent to the fire pit, and the wooden cross remained in front of Bob’s tent, but Kane’s tent was nowhere to be found.
Joshua cocked and eyebrow and looked at Jack.
Jack pursed his lips. “Looks like Kane is MIA.”
Joshua shook his head. “I’m surprised he’d just skip out like that. When Bob was around Kane was Mr. Reliable.”
“That was when Bob was around,” Jack said. “He’s been different ever since that day. And I think ‘AWOL’ is more appropriate than ‘MIA.’”
“This does lend credence to the idea of him being our mole,” Joshua said.
“If he was spying on us, why would he just leave? That takes away his access to get information.”
Joshua clenched his teeth. “Unless he already has everything he needs.”
***
1:17 p.m. – Fontana Dam
Shortly after lunch Joshua ventured onto the porch to enjoy a few moments of peace. Reagan left the porch and nosed around the edge of the clearing, where he took the liberty of watering a small tree.
The ground was carpeted with a yellow, red and brown patchwork of slightly damp leaves, and there was a chill in the autumn air. A wall of thick, grey clouds prevented the sun from peeking through. Joshua closed his eyes and leaned back in the rocking chair. After a few minutes a single deep, echoing bark pierced the otherwise quiet air. Thomas’ white Suburban rumbled down the mountain path as Joshua opened his eyes. Is it that time already? Joshua thought.
“Hey man.” Thomas rolled down the window and twisted a toothpick in his mouth. “Y’all ready to head out?”
“As soon as Jack gets here,” Joshua said.
Joshua locked Reagan in the small pen behind the cabin as Rebecca made her way onto the porch. When he returned to the clearing Rebecca was talking with Chuck and Sheri Jones and John and Ruth Moore, who had congregated near the Suburban.
“Hey guys.” Joshua shook everyone’s hand. “We’re headed out to the market. Need anything?”
“If you can find it, I need some ammo for my .44 Magnum,” said Chuck, a hulking African-American who had played linebacker in college.
Joshua chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The two couples headed up the trail just as Jack made his way to the Suburban and claimed the front passenger seat. Joshua staked himself out in the back seat behind Thomas, and Rebecca took the seat to his right. Jack made sure a round was chambered in his Glock .40 as Thomas put the Suburban in gear.
***
1:36 p.m. – Virginia Beach
Benjamin pulled his jet black, armored Yukon into the alley, his senses on high alert as he backed into the parallel parking space. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny, looking for any potential threat. Dark spaces like this were the type of place where danger could lurk, but were also a good place to make private calls without being disturbed.
We just met an hour ago, he wondered. What could be so important to require an emergency conference call?
Benjamin activated the encrypted tablet and opened the videoconference application. Abdar and Adilah appeared on screen, as did Anthony, two low-level aides, and President Armando. Benjamin placed his SIG-Sauer P229 on the console as the videoconference began.
I hope this is important, President Armando said.
It is, Mr. President. Russo flashed an ear-to-ear grin. We have received a tip that we believe will help us locate Drew Thompson. We expect Austin Phillips to apprehend one or more of the people who are harboring him within the hour.
Armando cocked an eyebrow. That is good news, Russo, but a simple message would have sufficed.
Unsurprisingly to Benjamin, Abdar agreed. I concur, Mr. President. This call is a waste of time. Benjamin noticed Russo’s face flush red.
Mr. President, one other thing. Russo’s angry scowl was defied by the air of calm in his voice.
Another participant’s image appeared on the video screen. The man, who was in a different location, was attired in a blue U.S. Army service uniform and service cap. His uniform jacket displayed an array of medals and insignia, and his expression projected dignity and confidence. A general, Benjamin thought. Interesting.
This is General Mason Palmer, Russo continued. He is currently headquartered at the Joint Base Langley-Eustis in Newport News.
I’ve met General Palmer, Armando said. What is the purpose of him joining this call?
The general has offered to assist Homeland Security with our efforts to put a stop to the vigilante justice that is occurring throughout the nation, as well as rein in--
Abdar’s voice pierced the airwaves. This is outrageous! For weeks I have suggested using the military to combat AIS, and you argued against it. Now you go behind our backs and make this arrangement?
Mr. President, may I speak? General Palmer’s deep voice boomed over the speakers. He spoke with a neutral accent.
Go ahead.
I would like to clarify one point, Palmer said. Mr. Russo did not contact me, I reached out to him. He seemed like a logical first point of contact. It was never my intention to cut anyone else out of the loop or go behind anyone’s back. We simply want to help.
While we can use all the help we can get, I would have appreciated being apprised of your participation on this call in advance, the President said dryly.
I agree, Mr. President, Abdar interjected. Russo, you have overstepped your authority!
Armando held up his hand. I’ll handle this, Abdar.
Mr. President, may I say one more thing? General Palmer asked.
Armando let out a frustrated sigh. Go ahead.
I understand you’re dealing with a rogue Marine General who is off the reservation. Perhaps I can be of assistance.
***
1:49 p.m. – Fontana Dam
Joshua reached over and grabbed Rebecca’s hand as Thomas navigated the Suburban down the winding mountain road toward the community market. Out of concern for her safety he had publicly objected when Rebecca insisted on accompanying them, but was secretly happy that she was with them. He enjoyed every moment in her presence. Joshua squeezed Rebecca’s hand, and she returned the gesture and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
Joshua noticed Jack perk up as the Suburban passed a small road on the right. Jack looked in the passenger side mirror, then turned and looked through the back window.
Joshua’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“We’ve got company. White SUV just started tailing us.”
“Man, I’m sure it’s a coincidence.” Thomas gnawed on his toothpick as he spoke. “They’re probably just headed down to the exchange.”
Jack sat silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the vehicle behind them. He shook his head and turned around. “I hope you’re right, but I don’t think so.”
“Why would they be following us?" Joshua asked.
“If they are, we’ll find out soon enough.” Jack concealed his Glock .40 inside his jacket. “Be on your toes, everyone.”
/> Joshua felt Rebecca’s grip tighten on his hand. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Becca, I’m sure it’s nothing. It’ll be okay.”
“I hope so, Josh. We don’t need any more trouble.”
Silence overcame the vehicle as they traveled the last two miles to the exchange. Jack broke the silence. “We’re almost there. Be alert.”
Thomas turned into the exchange, which looked like a massive flea market. Jack exhaled loudly when the SUV that had been behind them did not follow suit, instead continuing down the road. “Didn’t mean to spook you guys.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Joshua said.
The entire plateau where the exchange was set up was covered with tables and vehicles from which locals bartered their wares, separated only by narrow aisles. People traded nearly everything: a wide variety of meat, eggs, fish, livestock, chickens, hand-made furniture, rope, vegetables, and so forth. People who possessed skills such as carpentry, metalworking and sewing traded their services for goods. Others had sought-after goods such as coffee and gunpowder. Joshua marveled at how self-reliant the people in this area were. They were surviving and thriving, in spite of all that had happened. Thomas backed the Suburban into an open space near the road.
Jack tapped Joshua on the shoulder as they began walking toward the trading area. He spoke in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “It’s him. He’s here again.”
“Who’s here?” Joshua asked.
“The same guy we saw last time.” Jack nodded in the direction of a man talking to a trader behind one of the tables.
Joshua recognized him as the same Asian man who had traded ammunition for gasoline during their last trip to the exchange. He was accompanied by the same young woman with reddish-blonde hair. “Jack, he didn’t do anything suspicious last time. He’s probably just here doing his business.”
“There’s something about him that makes the hair stand up on my neck,” Jack said. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
Joshua heaved a sigh. “Calm down.”
“Man, I’m sure there ain’t nothing up with him,” Thomas said. “We don’t need to be so dern paranoid.”
“Paranoia saves lives,” Jack retorted.
The man turned around and made eye contact with Jack. He nodded, and Jack returned the nod, but neither spoke as they passed. Joshua watched as Jack nonchalantly made his way to another table, then positioned himself at an angle where he could monitor the man. The man made his way to a tan Ford Explorer, followed by the young woman, and they departed the area.
“Man, see, there wasn’t anything to fret about.” Thomas removed his worn, stained tan baseball cap and used it to scratch his matted, light-brown hair. “He’s just doing his business.”
Jack cocked an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
Rebecca gently elbowed Joshua in the side. “Now she looks like a duck out of water.” She nodded toward a tall, curvy blonde who stood nearly six feet tall. The woman wore a black, professional pantsuit that had the appearance of being brand-new.
“No doubt,” Joshua whispered. “Haven’t seen her here before. And where would she be able to get new clothes like that?”
“That’s a very good question,” Jack chimed in. “Something’s not right here.”
“Man, you’d freak out if a black helicopter flew by,” Thomas said. “You’re too dern jumpy!”
Joshua chuckled. His laugh was interrupted by a different voice: “Joshua Winston!” The voice was a familiar one, and it froze him in his tracks.
As Joshua turned in the direction of the voice a slender man dressed in all black approached and extended his hand. “Joshua, I’m Austin Phillips. I served in the State Senate during your last term in the House.”
Joshua reluctantly extended his hand. He recalled having met Austin Phillips in Raleigh, but didn’t remember much about him. They had not served on any committees together, and had not developed a relationship. He was surprised the man was so friendly toward him. “Good to see you, Senator. It’s been a while.”
“That it has,” Austin said. “I’m glad to see you’ve survived the mayhem of the past two years. What are you doing way out here?”
“This seemed like a good place to get away from the mayhem you just mentioned,” Joshua said.
“I see,” Austin said. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re still around. We’ll need good men like you to help rebuild our country.”
“I’m not sure it can be rebuilt.”
“Sure it can.” Austin cocked an eyebrow. “I’m working with the Armando administration trying to get things back in order.”
A chill shot down Joshua’s spine. He briefly made eye contact with Rebecca. She pursed her lips and looked at him, clearly concerned. Jack’s eyes were focused on Austin like a guard dog staring down an unwelcome intruder. Joshua quickly returned his gaze to Austin. “I’m glad you’re so optimistic.”
“I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Austin motioned for the tall blonde in the pantsuit to join them. “Joshua Winston, meet Virginia Pennington. Virginia is part of the team I’m working with here in Western North Carolina.” He gestured toward Joshua. “And Mr. Winston was in the State House during my first term in the Senate. He was well respected in Raleigh.”
Virginia extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Your name sounds familiar.”
Joshua clenched his teeth. “I don’t recall us ever meeting.” As Joshua was speaking two white SUVs came up the road and stopped at the entrance to the exchange. Both vehicles’ doors were emblazoned with “Federal Protective Service.” Three men and a woman exited the vehicles, all attired in black. Two of the men carried MP5s, and all four agents bore holstered sidearms.
Virginia turned to one of the Homeland Security officers. “Captain, does the name Joshua Winston ring a bell to you?”
“Yes, ma’am. We believe he may have knowledge of the whereabouts of Drew Thompson.”
Joshua’s stomach twisted into knots as Virginia gestured toward him. “Well, here he is.”
Austin stared at Virginia, his brow furrowed.
“Sir, you need to come with us.” The captain took a step toward Joshua.
Rebecca stepped forward and grabbed Joshua’s left bicep with both hands. Jack took a step toward the captain. Onlookers began crowding around as the four Federal Protective Service agents raised their weapons in unison.
Joshua felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. He looked at Jack and waved him off. “Guys, it’s okay.” He turned to face the captain. “What was the name of the person you think we’re connected to?’
“Drew Thompson.”
Joshua pursed his lips. “I don’t know who that is.”
The captain cocked an eyebrow. “We have reason to believe otherwise, and you’re coming with us.”
Jack took another step forward. “No, we’re not.”
The female agent deftly spun and kneed Jack in the midsection, then kicked him in the chest. He collapsed onto his back and the other two male agents trained their weapons on him.
Joshua waved the agents off. “Jack, we’ll go with them. No one needs to get killed here today.”
Jack slowly rose to his feet, his eyes filled with rage. He stood silently for a moment, his glare focused on the female agent. Then he looked at Joshua. “Whatever you say.”
The agents searched the four and confiscated their weapons and Thomas’ keys. They handcuffed the four prisoners and placed Joshua and Thomas in the back seat of the lead SUV.
Joshua spoke up as the agents pushed Jack and Rebecca toward the second SUV. “Please let me ride with my wife.”
The male agent escorting Rebecca spun and pointed his pistol in Joshua’s direction. “Not another word from you. You’ll ride where I damn well tell you!”
Joshua made eye contact with Rebecca. Her eyes were moist, and she shook her head. He watched helplessly as the agents forced Jack and Rebecca into the SUV.
The female agent placed a b
lack bag over Joshua’s head, completely obscuring his view. He assumed the others received the same treatment. America is becoming the kind of dictatorship we always stood against, he thought. It feels like we’re on a Nazi death train.
Joshua’s mind wandered as the vehicle sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. The darkness that had descended upon him when the bag was lowered over his head rekindled memories of the agonizing hours he had spent blindfolded while in AIS captivity eight months earlier. The bag’s bland, dry texture was disconcertingly similar to that of the gag used by the AIS terrorists. Joshua heaved a deep sigh. Lord, you helped us escape from the AIS terrorists eight months ago. All of us but Bob. He swallowed hard before finishing the unspoken prayer. Please help us again today. A few minutes later his body lurched as the vehicle jerked into motion and began transporting them like cattle destined for an unknown slaughterhouse.
CHAPTER 7
Saturday, October 27, 2018 – 2:21 p.m. – Route 28 near Fontana Dam and Bryson City, N.C.
Melanie watched the mountains whizz by as the Explorer made its way down Highway 28. Neither occupant of the vehicle had spoken for at least fifteen minutes.
“You’re unusually quiet.” She turned toward Major Chinn.
“Something was off back there,” he said.
“At the exchange? What do you mean?”
“One of the men there looked like he was sizing us up,” Chinn said. “And he seemed familiar, but I can’t place him. And if the two people who showed up at the end weren’t federal agents then they missed their calling.”
“The tall, overdressed blonde and the pretty boy with her?” Melanie chuckled.
“You got it.” Major Chinn said. “And I have to say that it’s just a bit ironic that you’re implying someone is high maintenance.”
Melanie felt her face flush red. “I can’t believe you said that! I’ve been easy to deal with the whole time!”
Chinn let out a loud belly-laugh. “I’ll give you that, but you seem like the kind of girl who would have expensive tastes and nitpicky preferences in a normal situation.”
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