“You found him?”
“No, not quite, but we know where he was about two weeks ago.”
“Close to here?”
“Yes, somewhere southwest of Fort Wayne.”
“So, what are you not sure of?”
“We’re trying to figure out how to refine the search grid,” said Major O’Malley.
“Can’t you use your fancy equipment to find him?”
“No, not right now. It’s too broad of an area to cover.”
Colonel Starkes was thinking of the time and manpower necessary to continue the search for Connor MacMillen. Inwardly, she groaned, dreading the fact that this small hanger outbuilding on the edge of an abandoned private airstrip was going to be her new home for the next several days. She needed a status report on the other Superhawk undergoing a retrofit and inspection near Camp David. Jimmy had told her before they left that he was sure he could deliver the second bird in the next few weeks. She had confidence in Jimmy. He was certain to come through on his promise, but it would be nice to have a that second bird here and now—she could use the extra twenty-two men.
There was no use thinking about the other Superhawk—either Jimmy would fix it or not, but, either way, it wasn’t here now, so it did her no good. She turned her attention back to the conversation between Nicole and Major O’Malley.
“Major,” said Nicole, “you won’t find Connor Mac unless he wants to be found.”
“Please call me Mike, Nicole.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing slightly, “I like the name Mike. It was one of the names I picked out for CJ before he was born. Maybe I’ll name my next baby Mike.” She boldly held his gaze. He began to blush, but was unable to take his eyes from her.
Once again, Colonel Starkes came to his rescue. “Major, have you figured out a solution yet?” She allowed an element of irritation to creep into her voice, effectively obtaining his undivided attention.
Major O’Malley cleared his throat. “I’m thinking that we can target the search corridor, colonel and… umm—”
“I’m thinking you won’t find him, Hannah. Not in a million years.”
“Why’s that, Nicole?”
“I know him. Connor Mac will walk around your men and pick their pockets whenever he wants.”
“I know he’s well-trained, Nicole. That’s not the question here.” The colonel’s frustration was evident in her voice. She walked a few steps to Nicole and gently touched the sleeping CJ’s pink cheek. “Do you know anything else that might help us now?”
“No, not really, Hannah.”
“Okay, Nicole. Why don’t you try to rest while me and the major figure out our next move,” said Colonel Starkes dismissively.
“Okay, Hannah. Good night, Mike.”
“Good night, Nicole.”
At the door, Nicole turned and faced them. “I guess I do have one suggestion.”
“What’s that?” asked the colonel, making an effort to keep her tone pleasant.
“I don’t think you’ll find him, like I said. So, why don’t you let him find you?”
CHAPTER 2.15-Grandaddy Frank
“Go on, tell him, Snuff. Tell him how you learned to shoot from your granddaddy.”
“Okay,” said Amanda. “Are you sure you want to hear this, Marty?”
“Sure, why not?” Marty leaned on his elbows and waited patiently for Amanda to begin her tale. He hadn’t spent enough time with the last group to care about any of them and, before that, he was on his own. The isolation had helped foster his killing mood for a quite some time. A story was a welcome distraction. Besides, it gave him the excuse to stare at Amanda.
“It’s like this,” began Amanda. “My granddaddy was a military sniper, back when iron sights were the norm.”
“Okay.”
”When I was ten, I was a bit of a tomboy. Okay?”
“Sure.”
“And one day, when I was at Grandpa Frank’s house, he let me shoot his .22 rifle. I took to it right away and he told me that I ‘had the eye’, you know?”
“Sure. He recognized that you were a natural.”
“Right, a natural. It was easy. After about 250 rounds, I could shoot the heads off those small, green plastic soldiers at fifty yards.”
“I loved to melt those little soldiers with matches when I was a kid,” said Marty.
“Yeah. Well, my Grandpa would give me a dollar for every one I shot at fifty yards while he was watching. But after a while, he told me he couldn’t pay me anymore because I was costing him too much money. So, he moved me out to seventy yards. Hitting those little guys from seventy-five yards took some time to master, but I worked at it over the summer and trained to the point that I could take their heads off pretty regularly.”
“Hmm…”
“You don’t believe me?” she asked.
“Just wondering.”
“It’s doable.”
“Oh, I know it can be done, because I could do it. I’m simply trying to wrap my head around you doing it.”
“Is that so?”
“Hey, I’m just being honest,” argued Marty.
“Fair enough.” She quieted for a moment, but continued after Connor’s nod of encouragement. “Eventually, Grandpa brought out his favorite hunting rifle—a Remington 30.06. He made me work with that gun over the next few years until I could plug straight ten’s at 200 yards. Each time, every time.”
“No kidding? That’s the gun?” asked Marty, indicating the rifle leaning against the house.
“No, not this one. This is a newer version. With a better scope, but yeah, it’s about the same.”
Connor interrupted. “She’s not bullshitting you, Marty.”
“I’ve seen her shoot, sir, remember? She’s not bad for someone with no military training.”
“Yeah, she can shoot,” agreed Connor. “And, she was trained by military personnel. In fact, at this point, I’d take her expertise in any of today’s combat situations. I trust her to cover my ass, Marty—that’s not something I take lightly.”
“Really, sir? She’s that good?”
“Yes, she’s that good. She’s a natural. But, let’s be perfectly clear, Marty. Rule number one is that she’s mine. Understand?”
“Understood.”
“Even a minor infraction of this rule will bring down a shitstorm on your head.”
“Copy that, sir.”
Amanda watched the exchange between the two men, especially pleased at the compliment from Connor concerning her rifle expertise. But then the full content of Connor’s words hit home and a pleasurable warmth suffusing her body demanded her attention. Amanda shifted her hips and bottom on the picnic bench solely for the feel of mild friction and self-stimulation. Smiling at both men, she hungered with a need to please Connor and knew that nighttime might not come soon enough.
CHAPTER 2.16-A Sweet and Gentle Kiss
“What do you mean, Nicole? How do you propose we let Connor MacMillen find us?”
“I told you I was an artist, right?”
“Yes.”
“I did some bulk graphic art projects in school many years ago. I’m thinking we might send him a personal message. You know, drop a bunch of eye-catchy leaflets like they did during World War II.”
“Leaflets?”
“Yeah! I had the idea when we were flying here. Do you remember when we flew over that strip mall? The one where half the mall had caught fire? Anyway, there was a FedEx store there. I remember saying to myself that there wasn’t any use for a FedEx store anymore… guess I was wrong.”