“Can someone tell me why we can't take care of two civilians and one detachment of Army Rangers?” Hannan stood, walked in front of his desk, and paced across the Presidential Seal on the carpet.

  “Mr. President,” Gerald Carter spoke slowly and distinctly, “… these are Rangers, men who can survive indefinitely in any known environment and who have mastered nearly every type of weapon and explosive we have. They have the capability to train local civilians, creating a militia regiment within a few weeks. If you don't get them, they most certainly will get you. They can move undetected among us, penetrating into secure areas.”

  Carter’s description made the Rangers sound as threatening as the modified Ebola virus. Thoughts of two types of unseen killers stalking him brought an icy chill that gripped Hannan's heart. His plans could be all for nothing.

  Was his fear reflected in his eyes? He looked away from his circle of men, trying to regain his composure. “What resources will it take to guarantee we eliminate Daniels, Banning, and the Rangers?”

  Mitchell Dell’s face lit up and he pointed his index finger at the ceiling, the signal that the geek thought he’d had a brainstorm. “NSA hasn't been able to locate them, but based upon what we already know, maybe there is a way. We know there's cooperation at some level between the missing Rangers, Banning, and Daniels. We've interviewed everyone around here that knows Katheryn Banning. We've done the same for Brock Daniels in Oregon, including a brief chat with Jeff and Allie Jacobs.”

  Hannan interrupted. “Please get to your point, Mr. Dell.”

  “Mr. President, if you'll just listen for a moment, I think you'll like the point I get to.” Mitchell Dell scanned everyone in the room, looking a bit smug.

  This irked Hannan, but he was desperate to rid himself of Banning and Daniels and certainly of the Rangers.

  Dell continued. “We know this … Ms. Banning and Mr. Daniels are both loyal to a fault. We believe Jeff and Allie Jacobs know more than they are telling. Also, Julia Weiss, the young woman who contracted Ebola—by the way she's ready to be released from the hospital in Bend—she was part of the close-knit missionary group that went to Guatemala. It was in Julia Weiss’s recently inherited house that Banning and Daniels hid, and it was also there where the Rangers shot down our Apache helicopter.”

  “The plan, Mr. Dell.”

  “Okay, here's my plan. Suppose, instead of discharging Julia Weiss, we take her into custody and leak to the Jacobs that she'll be interrogated, using enhanced techniques, until she tells us where the two perpetrators are. Ms. Weiss is still weak from the disease. She probably wouldn't survive the interrogation. They will know that and I think they’ll cooperate.”

  You are an idiot Mr. Dell. But, perhaps only half an idiot.

  “Dell, Julia Weiss won't have a clue where the two are. She's been in the hospital with Ebola. Take her and Allie Jacobs. Threaten to interrogate them both and hold them indefinitely as terrorists. Mr. Jacobs will do whatever we tell him in order to save his wife. Since Mr. Jacobs is Daniels’s closest friend, at the very least, he'll contact Brock Daniels. We track Mr. Jacobs, using all the technology available, and the two perps will be ours.”

  He glared at Mitchell Dell. “I shouldn't have to do your thinking for you.” Hannan scanned each face in the room. “I shouldn't have to do it for any of you.”

  Gerald Carter sat up and slapped his hands on his knees. “But what about the detachment of Rangers?”

  Carter was questioning him again, trying Hannan’s patience. “If we're lucky, they will try to save Banning and Daniels, and we'll get the whole lot of them. We can abort the insurgency before it’s even born.”

  Secretary Carter shook his head. “If you're lucky? Don't you remember what happened the last time this team of Rangers got involved? We lost an Apache helicopter and your black ops team played retreat. I agree, it's a plan, but you’d better enhance it to account for the Rangers.”

  Hannan gestured toward Secretary Carter. “So what do you recommend? Overkill?”

  Defense Secretary Carter's eyes turned to cold blue steel. “Yes. Something like the final scene in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

  “Great.” Hannan's voice grew caustic. “So now we're using Hollywood movies for our battle strategy? My Secretary of Defense, no less. You are pathetic, as was your guarantee that we could control your little virus, which now might make the Bubonic Plague of the Middle Ages look like the common cold.”

  Carter pulled his head back like he’d been slapped in the face. “I've had about enough of your arrogance and your mouth, Hannan, and your sloppy management of this whole operation.” Gerald Carter stood to leave the room. “It’s your fault this happened. You delayed our response, just like Secretary Weller implied.”

  If Carter couldn’t keep his cool … Hannan opened the drawer on the right side of his desk and pushed a button.

  Two secret service agents rushed into the Oval Office.

  Hannan pointed at Carter. “Arrest this man for treason. See that he does not get Miranda rights. Lock him up with the other terrorists we've captured.”

  “But you can't …” Carter blubbered.

  “I just did.”

  After Carter had been taken away, Hannan looked at the two remaining men. “You're either with me or against me. Is that clear?”

  Both heads nodded.

  “Good. Now, Mr. Dell, you and Randy finish planning the arrests of Julia Weiss and Jeff and Allie Jacobs. Make sure Jeff Jacobs tells Daniels about our hostages. I believe the chivalrous Mr. Daniels will offer himself in exchange for his best friend’s wife. But, in case I’m wrong, make sure we’re tracking Jeff Jacobs. With a little luck, we’ll soon have them all.”

  Chapter 32

  With Craig 300 miles away meeting some Navy SEALs, Brock had concerns. Even having Steve's cell number to use in case of an emergency didn’t remove Brock’s angst. As long as nothing unexpected happened, they should be okay, but …

  Brock and KC sat side-by-side on the couch in Jeff’s trailer, the spot they had become most comfortable with, the spot that placed them so close he could feel the warmth of KC’s bare leg against his. Sometimes the spot was downright distracting.

  She looked his way smiling, then giggling.

  “Alright, what’s so funny?”

  “It’s not funny. More ironic. No, satisfying. Do you remember that first summer we met?”

  “I remember. Almost like it was yesterday.”

  “Do you remember what we talked about?”

  “KC, we talked about everything under the sun. You told me how you tried to bleach off your freckles and got nothing for your pain.”

  “And you said it doesn’t work. That everybody’s got to live in whatever kind of skin they’re born with, so I had to learn to like mine.”

  “Then you got mad at God for giving you freckles. But, Kace …” he lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes, “… a girl’s face without freckles is like the night sky without stars.”

  “Cheesy, Brock. Kind of nice, but still cheesy.” The corners of her mouth turned upward as she took his hand. “That’s not what I was referring to. Even back then, you and I dreamed about doing the same thing when we grew up, protecting our country. You through your writing, me through—well, I hadn’t figured that out yet.”

  “We got our wish.”

  She looked at their clasped hands, intertwined fingers. “More than that. Neither of us could do this alone, not with Hannan’s hounds running amok. We’re a team, a good team.”

  Brock's cell played its tune for an incoming voice call. He glanced at the caller ID and didn't recognize the number. “Kace, it's a local area code. Should I answer it or not?”

  “Go with your gut.”

  Brock pushed the icon to pick up the call.

  “Brock, it's Jeff. I wouldn't call you except this is an emergency. A really bad emergency.”

  “It had better be an emergency. Because you called me here, we’re going to have to find a new place to hide. But what's up?”

  “Julia was discharged today.” Jeff's voice sounded shaky, like he was about to choke up. “Allie and I picked her up from the hospital to take her home. Before we left the hospital, all three of us were arrested by the FBI.”

  “What?” Brock turned on the speakerphone so KC could hear this.

  “Bro, it gets worse. They turned us over to some other people who threatened to interrogate Allie and Julia—interrogate as in torture—to find where you two are. These other people said Hannan can hold Allie and Julia as terrorists, indefinitely. Their spokesman said if I would contact you, and get you to turn yourself in, they’d set the women free. I don't believe them, bro, but I had to call.”

  “Where are you calling from, Jeff?”

  “It's a public phone. They aren’t listening, but I’m afraid they might somehow be able to trace the call, or get the cell towers your cell is using and … well, you know.”

  “Yeah. But we need a plan. Do you know where they took Allie and Julia?”

  “No. But I caught a glimpse of people dressed like the Rangers. So I think special ops types have them. Maybe it’s those guys that landed at Julia’s house in the Blackhawk. They drove westward, toward the mountains, not toward any of the cities.”

  Brock knew what driving away from the cities meant. For what Hannan’s people had in mind for all five of them, they didn’t want any witnesses. He and KC needed some time to plan and then needed another discussion with Jeff. “Can we call you at this number in two hours, Jeff?”

  “Bro, I'll have to tell them something before that. What do you want me to say?”

  Brock was putting Jeff in a horrible position, trading off the safety of his wife with that of his best friend. In reality, Hannan would likely kill them all. Brock knew what he had to tell these people. He glanced at KC.

  She was staring at him. Fear grew in her emerald eyes. She grabbed his arm. “No, Brock. You can't do that.”

  “It's okay, Kace. They’re only words to placate them. It's not what we're actually going to do.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “But they’ll manipulate you, using Allie and Julia, force you to …”

  Brock shook his head. He touched her cheek. “Don't worry,” he whispered.

  “It’s Julia, isn’t it?” KC whispered back.

  Julia? “Kace, it’s both of them. Hannan’s men will kill them.”

  Brock lifted the phone to his ear. “Jeff, tell them I'll surrender to them in exchange for Allie and Julia. But I need to be sure the women are safe, so there will be conditions.”

  “Thanks, bro. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

  “It's okay. Hey, forget going back to that phone in two hours. Come to the RV Park here in Sisters, the one by the turn off to your cabin and, Jeff, tell them I demanded that you report their answer to me, in person, or the deal is off.”

  “Will do. Pray for me, bro.”

  “You can count on it.” Brock ended the call and set his cell on the coffee table.

  Had he pushed Hannan too far with his blog posts? Maybe. But Hannan had finally learned enough about them to set a trap. And because Brock had called Jeff about a place to hide, Brock had brought danger to Jeff, Allie, and Julia.

  Once again, Brock Daniels had come up short. But if he died, it would happen trying to save his innocent friends.

  KC clung to his arm. “Hannan finally found a way to get to us. He's been studying us, scheming.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I'll kill that arrogant little s—”

  “Stop, KC.”

  “I wasn’t swearing.”

  “But you were getting there. We need to contact Steve and form a plan. And I think it's time to pray. We're going to need—”

  “Pray? I've done that, Brock. He lets us down most of the time. Some things you just have to do yourself.”

  “Kace, of course we’ll do everything we can, but think about it. It was no accident that brought you to me when I was at the motel on the ranch. No accident that we escaped from the motel and took out that Apache chopper. He’s been with—”

  “You mean God? No, we did the right things. Craig's man, Steve, brought that chopper down with his skill. Hannan's men are going to kill you, Brock, unless I can come up with—”

  “It's not all on your shoulders. We've got you, me, Steve, and Jeff, too.”

  She shook her head. “Against Hannan’s black ops team that’s executing a plan, an evil, insidious but finely tuned plan.”

  “I'm going to text Steve now. Less chance of compromising our location that way. Then we'll figure out how to throw a monkey wrench into their plan.”

  KC sat beside him, leaning forward, hands on her forehead.

  When Brock reached for his cell, a tear splattered on the coffee table.

  Chapter 33

  Hannan’s black ops team has Julia and Allie. Wants to trade for me. 2 hrs. We need a plan.

  Brock

  Brock stood and pressed send, as if standing would hurry the delivery of his text message to Steve at the RV park. Brock’s mind seemed like a blender full of puréed thoughts, a messy goop from which he couldn’t grab anything solid.

  “Kace, help me here. Jeff’s my best friend. I can’t …”

  KC stood beside Brock and put her arms around him. After he texted Steve, her mood had changed. She seemed calmer. “You’re not going to surrender to them, and Steve will help us, just like when he took down the helicopter. So, it’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

  She drew a sharp breath and pressed her fingers over her lips.

  It was the first term of endearment that had ever passed between them. KC must have used that word in her own mind for a while or it wouldn’t have slipped out as it did.

  KC looked up but avoided his searching eyes. “I mean … that, uh, Steve will know how to handle, what do they call it, a hostage extraction?”

  Brock lifted KC’s chin and peered into her eyes. The warmth in them said she had meant her words. How long had she thought of him as sweetheart rather than closest friend? Years or days?

  Brock shut off the spigot of questions flowing from his mind and focused on KC’s upturned face, on her inviting eyes … on her lips. She was so beautiful.

  So out of your league.

  She waited, inching closer to him.

  Brock kissed her forehead and held her. “I’m so glad you’re here, Kace, and I don’t have to face this alone.”

  KC pressed her cheek into his chest. “Just say the word, Brock, and you’ll never have to face anything alone.”

  As Brock sought an appropriate reply, his cell jingled its message-arriving tune.

  KC released him. “It’s got to be Steve. You’d better get it.”

  “Kace, I—”

  “The message, Brock. We need to know what Steve said.”

  Brock opened the text and read it aloud. “On the way. Grab what U need. Be there in 15.”

  KC picked up her laptop, charger, and shoved them into the case. “Who knows what we’ll need for planning or if we’ll be coming back here? Who knows anything anymore?”

  She had said the words for his benefit, because she was hurting.

  That raised another question. Was Brock hurting KC more by leaving her hanging than by telling her he wanted a life with her, regardless of her dead father’s wishes? That question had haunted him for several days. But Brock couldn’t deal with it until there was a lull in this war. At the present, they were marching into battle.

  An engine roared as a vehicle topped the hill northeast of the lake. Brock turned toward the window behind the couch. “It’s Steve and he’s really moving. Come on, Kace. Let’s meet him outside. We can talk on our way to the RV Park.” Brock grabbed his computer case and the rifle Craig had left them.

  KC followed him out the door, computer case on her shoulder.

  He locked the trailer as Steve’s SUV slid to a stop in a cloud of dust.

  Brock opened the back door of the SUV for KC, and then entered behind her.

  She gave him a surprised look and slid across the seat to make room for Brock.

  “Let’s beat it for the RV Park, Steve. We need to pick Jeff’s brains before we finalize any plans. He should be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Steve hit the gas, spun a half doughnut on the dirt road, and glanced back at Brock when they flew down the short straight stretch by the lake. “Do you really think they’ll give us that advantage? Actually free Jeff to come back instead of just having him call?”

  “I emphasized no deal unless Jeff delivers the message in person.”

  “You can be sure they’ll throw a wrinkle into this, a wrinkle we didn’t expect.” KC took Brock’s hand.

  She had no idea how that symbol of their closeness, her hand on his, calmed him.

  Steve accelerated to a speed slightly below Brock’s panic threshold. “We need to do a weapons and ammo inventory, get the layout of this place from Jeff, and plan our strategy.”

  Steve described an arsenal in the back of the motorhome, enough munitions to blow a crater in the ground the size of a city block, if something set it off. Too bad they didn’t have enough trained warfighters to make use of it all.

  KC didn’t speak during the rest of the ride. Brock didn’t know how to interpret that, but at least she kept his hand in hers. That was a good sign. No way did he want to go into a deadly situation with bad feelings between him and the woman he loved.

  Some of the Rangers were married. They must have strong marriages with strong women; otherwise, warfighters would never survive their first battle. How could a man concentrate on war if he’s afraid of losing his woman?

  Brock looked up at Steve in the driver’s seat. “You single, Steve?”

  “Yeah. Runnin’ solo through life, so far.”

  Just as Brock thought. “So no fiancé or girlfriend?”

  “Not yet. It’s not like I’m not looking, but things are a bit dicey for forming relationships these days.”

 

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