Beck's Six

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, snap some pictures and come on back down here.”

He paced, ignoring the woman doing her best to make herself as small as possible to one side while he tried to figure out how the hell this had happened. For five years, every single thing had been planned down to the last detail and gone off without a hitch. That included setting up their headquarters which, until now, no one even had a sniff of.

Rusty exited the tunnel and hurried over to him, handing him his cell phone.

“I took a bunch of shots,” he said. “There’s three people out there and the dog. And he’s a big one.”

Vern recognized the breed. Belgian Malinois. They had a reputation as being excellent bomb sniffers. Who the fuck was the guy who had brought him, and why did he have him? Too many strange things were happening with this gig. He hoped none of them were omens. He—they—had too much riding on this.

He didn’t recognize any of the three people in the pictures, either. Although, with the men, he knew the type—hardened former military who dedicated themselves to doing good works. Well, he and the Loyalists had the same goal, just different ideas about what was right for the country. But he needed to keep in mind that these were hardened warriors who didn’t take shit from anyone. He knew the type. He’d have to be really on his toes because they were definitely going to do everything to see what the Loyalists were up to and throw a monkey wrench into it.

He sent the photos to his computer and gave Rusty back his phone. After he took care of a few things, he’d do a search. See if he could match them up. Find out more about these people. Meanwhile, he had other things to take care of.

“Thanks, Rusty. Can you make one more trip up the tunnel to let me know when they leave?”

“Sure thing. No problem.”

Vern looked around the huge space. The loaded trucks had been inventoried one more time, and he had assigned the men who were to ride in each one. The trip cross country from Wind River Mountains to Lakeport, Virginia, was more than fifteen hundred miles. Obviously, with what they were hauling, they couldn’t overnight anywhere, but each truck was outfitted for long distance. There was a bed behind the drivers’ area where they could take turns catching some sleep. They’d make pit stops as needed to take care of bodily needs and grab food. And, of course, an endless supply of coffee.

At the moment, most of the men were sacked out on the cots, catching some sleep before the long haul. Only Vern and Leslie were awake. He had pulled her over to a work table against one wall, filled a cup with coffee for her, and sat her down.

“Now, missy,” he said, sipping his own hot drink, “we need to discuss what happens with you.”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t flinch or panic. And the long hours she’d been sitting on the hard floor, she’d barely said a word. If circumstances were different, he might even be interested in her, but right now, he didn’t have time for anything but the Loyalists.

“Your friends are out there looking for you,” he told her. “Two guys who look like they could fight a war by themselves and a very big dog.”

She just stared at him, not saying a word. She hadn’t turned into a mass of tears or begged him to let her go. He liked a woman with guts, but again, wrong time, wrong place. And wrong person.

“Okay.” He sighed. “We don’t need to have a conversation. I just need to tell you what’s going to happen. Around midnight we’re going to start rolling out of here. The cab of the first truck will be a little crowded because, in addition to the drivers, you and I will be in it.”

He waited for her to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. He had expected to see fear in her eyes, but instead he saw anger. Well, a spitfire on top of everything else.

“As soon as we’re out on the road, where I am sure your friends will be waiting for us, I am going to give them a good look at you sitting with my gun at your temple. It’s going to stay there until all the trucks have rolled out, which will be quite a while. When I get the word everyone is clear, I’ll leave you someplace and give you back your cell phone so you can let them know where you are.”

“They’ll find you and kill you.”

He was startled at the venom in her voice. He had expected fear after her long hours huddled by the trucks. Or panic. Or any of many other emotions, but again she surprised him.

“I think they’ll have a hard time doing that, but they are certainly welcome to try. We’ll be leaving around midnight. Would you like to lie down on one of the beds until then?”

“Oh, now you decide to make me comfortable? It would have been nicer if you offered it instead of the hard stone floor all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry for that, but we have a couple of hours now if you want to make use of them.”

He waited for her answer, which took longer than he expected.

“I’ll take the opportunity to rest. I want to be in fighting shape.”

He swallowed an unexpected smile. “As you wish. Pick any one of the cots not in use.”

He watched her walk as far away from him as she could, smooth the covers on an empty cot, and lie down. But she didn’t close her eyes. Instead, he saw her staring at him, as if she wanted to stick a knife in him.

He swallowed a sigh. Oh well, it would all be over soon anyway. The Loyalists would be in control, and people like this woman and her friends would realize who was really in charge.

Pulling his sat phone from his pocket, he dialed a familiar number and waited for the person on the other end to answer.

“Okay. The slight change in plans will have to happen.”

“Slight?” the voice on the other end snapped at him. “This is much more than slight.”

“Nevertheless, it has to be done. Here’s the new plan.” Vern quickly outlined the steps for him. “We have to be ready to roll around ten p.m. It’s plenty dark then and enough freeway traffic—truckers—for us to blend in. We‘ll move in stages. You just have everyone on your end ready to act when we get there.”

“Don’t you worry about us,” Monte assured him. “We’ve got our shit together.”

“You’d better,” Vern warned, “or this whole thing could blow up in our faces. Literally.”

He thumbed the Off button and shoved the phone back in his pocket just as Rusty descended the tunnel again.

“What’s up?” Vern asked.