Force of Nature (20 page)

“Any proof of that?”

“None,” Kennedy said. “Other than they’d negotiated that stretch of highway hundreds of times. Yes, it can get treacherous in the snow and ice, but they were used to that. We had our first winter storm that morning, and they were going into town to get groceries. They never came back.”

Nate felt cold dread spreading through him. Jason Sweeney and Mike McCarthy were serious men. Sweeney was paranoid at times and scary when he got angry, but he was capable of locking his emotions down when the going got tough. McCarthy was an ex–Navy SEAL who was so silent it was easy to forget he was in the room.

“Two weeks,” Nate said. “That’s about the same time things started happening in Wyoming. You heard about Large Merle?”

Kennedy nodded and gestured toward the communications center.

“Any chatter about McCarthy and Sweeney from official channels?” Nate asked.

“None. Which told me everything I needed to know.” Kennedy smiled sadly. “Whenever one of our brothers passes on, there’s chatter. Guys email and post stories about the fallen warrior and let others in his unit know where to send flowers and donations and such. But in this case, there was
nothing
. Not a word. Not even a link to the write-up in the local paper. And when I sent a few emails out to their old unit, there were no replies. That means somebody put a lid on it.”

“How can that be?” Nate asked. “Nobody has the juice to tell ex-operators not to grieve. No one can tell them
anything
.”

“It’s not that,” Kennedy said. “The emails I sent never got there. And if anything was posted on the secure blogs and websites, it got deleted just as fast. Our guys in high places have that ability: to scrub digital communications. They’ve had it for years, but I’ve never encountered it personally. Somebody somewhere put out the word that there would be no mention of Sweeney and McCarthy. And because all communications go through conduits that we—our government, I mean—own, they can squelch anything they want to. They even have the ability to go back and ‘disappear’ items that were posted years ago. That’s a new capability, I think, but I’ve heard them talk about it unofficially.”

Nate shook his head. “You mean they can delete history?”

“Digital history, at least,” Kennedy said. “They have the ability, if they wanted, to scrub every story, article, post, or reference to the moon landing. They could make it appear that the event never took place. Or change the narrative.”

“Christ.”

“It’s a tremendous tool for counterinsurgency,” Kennedy said. “Think about it. The terrorists use email, websites, and social media to connect. If our guys can alter or delete their communications and history, they’re fucked.”

“But someone is doing it to us,” Nate said.

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Official or unofficial?”

“You tell me.”

As Oscar Kennedy talked, Haley reentered the room and studiously avoided eye contact with Nate. She padded over to the sink.

“Mind if I do the dishes now?” she asked Kennedy.

“It can wait,” he said.

She turned on him, and her eyes flared. “How about you do them when you feel the time is right, then? I’m not your maid.”

“Fine, then,” Kennedy said with a sigh. She did a shoulder roll away from him and turned on the taps.

She said, “Let me know when he’s gone, okay?”

Nate looked to Kennedy for an explanation.

“She came with Cohen,” Kennedy said. “They were an item.”

“‘Were’?”

Gabriel Cohen had been tall and rangy, with black curly hair. He was a talker and a charmer, and women fell for him. He was charismatic, passionate, and he drew people in. He’d looked Middle Eastern enough to be dropped inside the region into the hottest spots. Since he spoke Arabic and a smattering of Urdu, he could operate in several countries, including Pakistan.

Kennedy nodded. “He’s gone, too.”

“Jesus. What happened?”

“
You
happened,” Haley spat. She scrubbed the pots so violently, water splashed across the countertop.

“The cops said it was a bar fight,” Kennedy said, ignoring her. He chinned toward Haley. “Those two got in a big argument. It had to do with her staying here. Nunez didn’t like the idea of anyone bringing a stranger inside, and she overheard him telling Cohen. When Cohen didn’t defend her, she ripped into him. This place,” Kennedy said, “isn’t as big as you might think. There are lots of spats and arguments when you’ve got a bunch of people cooped up in here. Plus, there was the stress of Sweeney and McCarthy dying.”

“Anyway …” Nate prompted.

“Cohen left pissed-off ten days ago. It wasn’t the first time. I knew he’d likely just go down to Victor or over to Tetonia to get drunk and hash it out in his own mind. They found him beaten to death outside a bar in Tetonia. Blunt-force trauma. No suspects at all.”

“So they were waiting for him,” Nate said.

“That’s my theory.”

“They probably jumped him from behind,” Nate said. “Cohen was a tough guy, and you wouldn’t want to take him on from the front.”

“He was tough,” Kennedy said, shaking his head sadly. “But we’re all just flesh and blood. We’re all mortal. Even
you
.”

Haley reacted by throwing the dishrag into the sink with obvious disgust. When she turned on them, her eyes were filled with tears and her chin trembled. “You talk about Gabriel like I’m not in the room, Oscar.”

“Your choice.”

“But I’m not here by choice,” she said. Her Southern accent was honey-laced, Nate thought. But her voice built as she said, “I’m a prisoner. My man is gone, and the wolves are right outside the door. I’m doing my best, but I don’t have much left. So at least extend me the courtesy of not talking about him as if I wasn’t in the room, okay?”

Then she faked a slap at Kennedy’s head—he ducked—and again left the room. Nate watched her leave and was surprised to find his insides stir. She was fit and fiery, with that mane of jet-black hair and large blue eyes. She filled her tight jeans nicely and had a graceful way of moving—even when she was throwing a wet rag or stomping around—he found surprisingly attractive. He stanched the feeling. Alisha was still there with him—a braid of her hair on his weapon—and he instantly felt guilty about it.

When she was gone, Nate asked, “How long has she been here?”

“Three months, July,” he said. “We’re like an old married couple the way we fight all the time. She’s got a good heart, though. I’m fond of her, and it’s tough on her Cohen is gone. Really tough.”

Nate did a quick calculation in his head. She couldn’t be the vixen
who lured Large Merle to his death if she’d been in Idaho for three months. But who was to say there was only one vixen?

“Have you checked her out?” Nate asked Kennedy softly.

The man nodded. “Of course, or I wouldn’t have let her in the door with Cohen. In a nutshell, she’s a North Carolina girl, born and raised in Charlotte. Old Southern family. Went to the University of Montana, then moved to New York. She was some kind of prodigy at a big public-relations firm for a while, got married to a sharpie, then divorced. No kids. She wanted to move back home, and she bounced around for a while until she ran into Cohen at Sun Valley and he brought her back here. No gaps in her history, no likely interactions with bad guys. Most of all, no incentive to infiltrate our compound. She was crazy about Cohen, even though they fought all the time.”

Nate nodded. “Are you two … ?”

“No,” Kennedy said flatly. “Not that I haven’t suggested it. But no.”

“And Nunez?” Nate asked.

Aldo Nunez was a wiry man of Hispanic origins with a cherubic face and the ability to insinuate himself into any group. Nate had met him only once but liked him immediately.

Kennedy said, “He went down to talk to the local cops to find out what they knew about Cohen’s beating a week ago. That’s the last we’ve seen of him. He just never came back. You didn’t know Nunez very well, but believe me, he’s not the type to bug out.”

Nate rubbed his face with his hands.

“Diane Shober went with him,” Kennedy said flatly.

“So she’s gone, too.”

“I’m afraid so. Collateral damage.”

“It’s worse than I could have guessed,” Nate said.

Kennedy simply nodded as he kept his eyes on Nate.

“She’s right,” Kennedy said, referring to what Haley had exclaimed. “We’ve been virtual prisoners here. Honestly, I’m not afraid to go out, but I understand the odds. So we haven’t left this place since Nunez vanished. I haven’t been able to go to the church to preach.”

He chinned toward the window above the sink. “We haven’t opened the curtains until just this morning. We’re locked down and I’d like to say we’re ready for anything, but it depends what they throw at us. As you know, this is a tough place to get into if you don’t know the keypad code. I can’t see them trying an all-out assault. Instead, they’ve been patient and they picked us off one by one.”

Nate said, “Why do you think they’re gone now?”

Kennedy shrugged. “Because we’re still alive, and God has a plan for me. He wants me to continue to do what I’m doing here.”

AFTER A FEW MOMENTS
, the Reverend Oscar Kennedy said, “You came here for help and information, Nate. I’m not sure I can provide information, and the men who could help you have been taken from us.”

“I understand,” Nate said. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.”

“Do you know how many men Nemecek has on his team?” Nate asked. “Has there been any chatter about changes in tactics?”

“A little,” Kennedy said. “Obscure references. Some serious complaints. But I can’t recall seeing a number, and certainly not a list of operatives.”

“Damn.”

“Everything is locked down tight. Tighter than you can believe.”

“What do you mean when you say ‘serious complaints’?” Nate asked. “About what?”

“The quality of Nemecek’s team. There is some grumbling from ex–Five operators still in the business that quality control isn’t what it used to be when he’d been selecting men. I get the impression,” Kennedy said, “there is a feeling Nemecek has surrounded himself with a close group of men without strong character. Not that they aren’t well trained like we all were, but that he’d let the intangibles slip. There’s been some chatter that Nemecek prefers yes-men to patriots these days. That at least
some
of the Peregrines are there to serve John Nemecek instead of their country. He’s ambitious—we both know that. He likes power, and he always thinks he’s the smartest man in the room.”

Nate nodded. “So he’s surrounded himself with thugs.”

“That sums it up pretty well. But you know how it is. Ex–Five operators always think they had it tougher than the new recruits. It’s part of the game.”

“But in this case they may have a point,” Nate said. “The three men I saw in Colorado wouldn’t have been in Mark V ten years ago. They would have washed out, believe me.”

“Because you defeated them?” Kennedy asked.

“Because they weren’t that good,” Nate said. He looked around the small kitchen, at the thick window and the steel window frames. At the dishes undone in the sink.

“Maybe we should all get out of here,” Nate said.

Kennedy quickly shot that down. “Never. This is my home, and my church needs me. I owe them. I can’t just leave. My work has just started here, Nate. The word is starting to get out that people like us have a place to come and find fellowship and worship God.”

Nate didn’t argue. Kennedy was adamant.

“Can you print out some of the chatter you found?” Nate asked. “I might be able to decipher some of it. I need anything I can get.”

“I’ll find what I can,” Kennedy said, wheeling back from the table. “I’ll check to see if there’s anything new. Maybe we can find out what happened to our friends out there.”

“Thank you.”

Kennedy spun in his chair and propelled it toward the next room, where his computers hummed. But in the doorway he stopped suddenly, and turned a half turn so he could look at Nate.

“Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about? A lot of blood has been shed, and we’ve lost some really good men. I’d like to know why directly from you, because I’m not sure I can believe what I read on the Net anymore. I’m sure Nemecek has changed history.”

Nate said, “You know why.”

Kennedy’s face flushed with anger. “I know John Nemecek is your mortal enemy. But what I don’t know—and I deserve to know—is exactly what happened back in 1998 in the desert.”

“Nineteen ninety-nine,” Nate corrected.

“So be it,” Kennedy said. But his face was set and he wasn’t
moving.

“Print out what you can,” Nate said, “and I’ll tell you if you really want to know.”

The Reverend Oscar Kennedy glared at Nate for a while until his expression finally softened. “Okay, then,” he said.

WHILE KENNEDY
was in the computer room, Haley reentered and strode purposefully toward Nate and sat down at the table. There was no avoiding eye contact this time. She was all business.

“I want you to find the men who did it,” she said. “You owe it to me and to Gabriel. Not to mention the others.”

He stared back at her and again felt the little tug inside him as he
looked into her wide blue eyes. He had always been a sucker for long black hair and blue eyes, especially if they belonged to intelligent women.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said. “At one point I really wanted to finally meet you and hear if what they said was true. But not under these circumstances. Now I just want you to go and find them.”

He remained quiet.

She said, “I’ve heard about the falcons and a little about what you were involved in years ago. Gabriel talked about that big gun you carry. He said you’d just show up from time to time without any notice. He also said if it came to a fight, he’d want you in his corner more than anyone else he knew. That’s saying something, you know.”

Nate had to look away because it seemed her eyes were reaching inside him.

“Diane Shober told me how you brought her here. She said you were good to her, but she couldn’t figure you out. She said she got the impression you were carrying a very heavy weight around with you, but you wouldn’t talk about it. I liked her, although she was very intense. We got along, and it was nice to have another woman in the place. I never had a sister, and she was like a sister to me. To think that they would hurt her, too … it makes me sick.”