Decency (43 page)
“The deployment of agents for apprehension, or attack, the timing, and related decisions, have to await availability of the maps, personnel, and equipment to know what our capabilities are. Any other suggestions?”
Horton liked what he heard.
“Good briefing, Santos. Full operational command and control will chop to you at the moment you arrive on the scene. After that, we’ll only be here to provide information or other help.”
“I appreciate that.”
Horton asked, “Suggestions?”
“This is Jim Clinton from Treasury. If we have the resources, maybe we should put people at the arrival gates in Omaha and Lincoln to watch for Fitzgerald.”
Horton didn’t think that had been overlooked but didn’t want to waste time discussing it here.
“FBI, you take that, if you haven’t already. Borrow TSA or undercover local police if you have to.”
An idea flashed upon the mind of the Defense representative and he spoke the instant it formed, almost blurting it.
“This is Conor Flaherty from Defense. If Fitzgerald is the one who put the devices there, as the Chinese said, wouldn’t he want to put one in their lawyer’s office, back in Washington? It would be a lot closer to him and we could probably get consent to…”
Horton cut off the ramble. A doubt gnarled in his stomach whether it was done.
“Good suggestion. FBI, you take that.”
“Anything else?”
“Joint Stars for Horton and Sandoval.”
“We’re on, Colonel, go.”
“Very warm vehicle, not moving, three quarters of a mile west of the farm house. I can’t tell if there are people in it. If there are, they are the closest ones to the house that we can pick up with radar.”
“NRO. Get infrared on it.”
“Coming up in ten seconds.”
Horton keyed the display screen to split. The Joint Stars radar-generated graphic appeared on the left half. The NRO half on the right was unlit.
“Kimberly do you have a line open to the State Patrol?”
“Sure.”
“Patch ‘em on to the speaker.”
Suddenly the NRO’s Global Hawk infrared video display blossomed on the right hand screen. The right half of the display speckled with thousands of lights showing every hot target within a hundred mile radius of the farm. The drone’s visual and infrared sensors could be focused on the farm for a long loiter time if it came to that.
Even before Horton spoke, “Zooming.”
The UAV’s display stepped down, centered on the farm, eliminating objects by the hundreds every tenth of a second, until nothing but the farm in ghostly grays rested before their eyes.
Horton gave Sandoval the news.
“Santos, NRO infrared does not indicate warm bodied people in the house. But that doesn’t mean it’s empty.”
“Understand. Let’s get someone in there soonest.” Sandoval knew the infrared spectrum did not penetrate walls.
The connection clicked audibly.
“State Patrol, calling Horton.”
“Horton here, welcome aboard.”
“This is Captain Dan Schneider, on-scene and team commander for the Nebraska State Patrol SWAT team.”
“Captain, this is Craig Horton, do you understand you are operating under our control?”
“Roger, sir.”
“Fine. We badly need your help right now. Do you have anyone there in normal State Patrol uniform?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, call someone who is, the closest one to you, or the sheriff. We need a normal looking officer to drive past a vehicle, probably idling, three quarters of a mile west of the house. Don’t stop. Just check it out. See who’s in it. Get a tag number and report through you to us. Then, locate the Pierces if you can.”
“Roger, all.”
Joe Manckovic swung his Dodge Ram out of Swain’s Grocery parking lot, a brown sack with Enfamil on the passenger side of the seat, and the glove box stash of Red Man restored.
…wouldn’t hurt none to pick up a Bud for the trip home…
Tom Koonce’s cherry top was at the cafe.
…say hello to him too…remember to catch the door from slammin’ or Kathy’ll yell, again…
“Hey, Tom, good seein’ you.”
“Well, there’s the son of the devil himself. How you doin’, boy?”
They shook hands with a big right hook wind up the way they have since junior high football.
“Tom, you ought to be out on the road makin’ the world safe.”
Kathy said, “Hey, Joe, how’s Marie and that new baby?”
“Hey, beautiful. Marie’s a little under the weather but she’ll come around. I’m doin’ extra duty while she’s sick. That boy, though, he eats more than a new calf.”
“Tell Marie we said ‘hi’ and if there’s somethin’ she needs…”
“I’ll do it. Kathy, let me have one longneck Bud…for when the baby goes to sleep.”
“Comin’ up.”
Tom Koonce knew the baby better be down for the count right now if that’s when the beer was for.
“Joe, you keep the cap on that goin’ home. Hear?” Tom knew he had to give him a reason. “A sick woman hates the smell of alcohol breath.”
“Okay, Tom. Say, you want somebody to harass instead of wastin’ the tax money in here, you ought’ go swing by Kathy and Harlan’s…three quarter’ mile west. There’s two Ori-
en
-ls from Omaha road huntin’ pheasants.”
“Orientals?”
“I know. But, hey, Omaha gets squirrelier every year.”
“That’ll be a buck eighty six, Joe.”
He slid two ones across the counter and took the brown sack wrapped longneck.
“Keep the fourteen cent’ on my credit. See you all soon, or in the great hereafter.”
“Take care of yourself, hoss.”
The door slammed behind him. Kathy did not yell.
The Sheriff lifted his short style Stetson from the counter and paid for his coffee.
“Best get rollin’. Tell Harlan, sorry I missed him.”
“You probably just did. He’s on his way. Say hi to Tammy.”
On the way out the door, the walkie talkie strapped to his side scratched. “Base, 45/20…”
The Sheriff snapped the button on the hand set pinned to his collar and spoke into the mic.
“45/20.”
“State Patrol requests you contact them. Channel 14.”
“Roger.”
In the car Tom dialed channel 14 as he was pulling away from the curb.
“State Patrol, County unit 45/20.”
“County Unit 45/20, request you drive past but do not stop, repeat, drive past but do not stop at, vehicle on county road 16A approximately three miles west from highway 26 and observe. Report observation.”
“State Patrol, County Unit 45/20 on the way. But a friend just told me they’re Orientals from Omaha. Bird huntin’.”
“County Unit 45/20 repeat transmission, please.”
“State Patrol, I’m on the way but they’re Orientals from Omaha. Bird huntin’. A friend just told me”
“Understand. What’s your ETA?”
“Eight minutes.”
“Request you report observation.”
“Ma’am…
“Ma’am…
“
Ma’am
…”
It took deliberate effort for Kelly to realize she was “Ma’am.”
She twitched and slowly started to uncurl.
“Ma’am, we are in Omaha. You can depart the plane now.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Being in Omaha did not feel very good just then. There was a sore spot on Kelly’s hip because the pillow slid down and for some time she pressed up against the armrest. There was a buzzing pain in the back of her head from the tension headache that hadn’t gone away. And just to make it interesting, there was a hungry badger running around in her stomach snarling for food. She realized she had not eaten for two days, except for the coffee in the Pavilion when she sat with Fitzgerald.
…in fact, all things considered, dying right here would be okay…just wait a minute…
She started to sink back into her nest.
“
MA’AM!
You
have
to clear the plane now.”
“Oh, sorry…”
Kelly struggled to unfurl and get to her feet. She was slightly dizzy from the hunger and the seat caught her behind the knees, buckling her, and she sat back down.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?”
…my God, they think I’m drunk…
“Yeah, sorry.”
Kelly fetched her briefcase from the overhead and noticed she was alone on the plane except for flight attendants and the cleaning crew. She straightened her trench coat, and gradually assembled more of her bearings with each step down the aisle. At the door she heard one attendant whisper.
“I don’t know. She didn’t drink anything.”
The other wished her to “Have a good evening.”
All the way to the rental car area she wrestled with the aches and pains. As the clerk completed the contract, she went to the restroom and swallowed some Tylenol from the bottle in her briefcase, knowing that it would not help for at least ten minutes. She splashed water on her face and dried with paper towels. This time, she looked much better than she felt and the look would still spook wildlife. Outside, she settled into the rental for the drive. The Tylenol kicked in much quicker because it was the only thing in her stomach.
…digestion certainly leaped on those two little pills… …maybe I could live after all…
With thought patterns returning to normal, she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the cell phone and turned it back on. She resisted the temptation to call somebody, anybody, to find out if something, anything, was done with the motion since it was delivered this morning.
…if NSA or the Attorney General manage to lift it out of their in-box, Bonnie will hear and call…
“Horton, State Patrol.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“The closest unit is a sheriff eight minutes away. He’ll report but he said a friend just told him they are Orientals, repeat Orientals, from Omaha, hunting pheasants.”
There was stunned silence in the Situation Room. Sandoval heard it too.
