Immediately trusting the veracity, Major O’Malley reminded himself of the intense commitment the colonel had in ensuring their safety during their stay. What he’d thought of as, perhaps, a rising paranoia, he began to see as a finer assessment of new incoming data. That is, for those who paid attention to such. He chided himself severely for not providing better support. Clearly, he needed to get back into the game.
“Colonel, that view, with a good scope, would give Phoenix and this Cleveland bunch excellent access on intel. Hell, they might even be able to watch Nicole and CJ strolling around inside, right?”
“Agreed.”
“So, you’re thinking Phoenix is not Mr. Nice Guy, after all?”
Colonel Starkes took her time before responding. As a surprise, she smiled before speaking.
“He’s good, Mike. Real good. But, as my dad would say, the young man’s too big for his britches,”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, he has some solid charisma and talent at subversion, persuasion, manipulation, strategy and control—you don’t control a Cleveland crowd such as this without it, but he’s not yet come across someone trained in the finer art of military strategy. Plus, Phoenix just doesn’t have the damn experience.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you, colonel.”
“The art of war, major. Everything he’s doing, thus far, can be interpreted on many levels. War and control is one of them. As it happens, the military mindset will always be my ‘default’ position, probably for the rest of my life. And, I must admit, I’m told I have some skills in the area.”
“Granted. So, what’s he doing?”
“I’m surprised, major, that you’re asking that question, given that you and Captain Daubney were the ones to suggest his likely response.”
“Suggest what?”
“Remember what you said about coming to Cleveland? Remember your and Daubney’s concerns?”
“Sure. That they might see you as… ah, something less than the president?”
“Right. And, Phoenix’s doing just that. I think he’s going after the woman and the power. But, in this case it’s not me. It’s… Nicole. Or, so he thinks.”
“Nicole?”
“I think the man’s sharp. Perhaps extraordinarily so, to have achieved so much control in so little time since the Sickness. That said, I think he’s managed to figure out that Nicole and CJ are the main reason we’re not sitting on our butts in Mt. Storm or DC right now.”
“Ma’am, you mean you think Phoenix knows about them and is planning on taking ’em from us at some point?”
“C’mon, major. The man’s has more on the ball than that.”
“He’s going to try to take us all down?”
“Bingo. Give the man a cigar!”
“Huh!”
Colonel Starkes smiled and touched the major gently on his sleeve.
“Major, Phoenix’s the type to take what he wants. He’s simply waiting for the right moment. And, he’s patient… I’ll give him that.”
Colonel Starkes laughed gently. “Luckily, he’s still slightly intimidated by me and wants to be sure he has the upper hand before making his move.”
Major O’Malley raised the binoculars for another view of the warehouse before weighing in with a comment. “You know, Suzie was asking how the men slept, where they slept, and if they needed any pillows or… maybe something… else to help ’em sleep. All innocent with some nice sexual undertones. She was flirting quite a bit on the subject, especially with Mickey, who’s quite infatuated with her.
“I’ll bet. He’d certainly be one to disarm.”
“You know, Mickey’s hardly talked about anything else since breakfast started comin’ compliments of Phoenix.”
“That’d be part of any disruptive strategy. Phoenix’s plan, major.”
“Colonel, if I may speak freely…”
“Cut the crap! You know better than to take that stance with me!”
Bristling with anger at himself, the major realized he’d been lulled into a false sense of security by Phoenix’s fine ministrations. Grumbling, he was pissed at his lapse in judgment.
“Okay, then! Can I ask why you’ve taken seven days to let me in on your interpretation of these events?”
Colonel Starkes grinned ear to ear before gently snatching the binoculars from his hands. The satisfaction on her face suggested she’d achieved a worthy objective.
“I know men, major.”
“What?”
“I said I know men. And, I know you especially. That’s why I depend on you so much.”
“So? You’re not tellin’ me anything—”
“And, I’ve found you, Major Mike O’Malley, do your best work when you’ve realized you’re just about to get severely and negatively fucked.”
Major O’Malley stared, shocked at her bluntness, but sensing her excitement and anticipation. With conviction, he knew he would not disappoint her.
“I’ll bury that fuckin’ prick bastard he tries to come at us.”
Satisfied, Colonel Starkes stood, turning to leave. Gently, she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“That’s where you need to be major. Please see to it.”
“Damn right I will… ma’am.”
CHAPTER 5.14-A Homemade Merlot
“So, Mac. What’s the plan?”
“C’mon, McLeod, sit down. Take a load off. What’s that?”
John settled onto the creaking patio chair in the gentle, afternoon sun. It was late August, a day since discovery of the president’s letter. He handed a bottle of wine to Connor for inspection.
“Found this one and ten others on a bottom shelf in the basement. Hidden behind some old knick-knacks and coffee cans. We missed it the first time through.”
Connor read the handwritten label.
“Merlot. A homemade merlot? Wow.”
“Yep. Made by a guy named Hugo Kingman. See here? Signed each label.”
“Huh. How about that.”
“Let’s hope the guy knew what the hell he was doing. Rhonda and Amanda already snatched up the rest of the batch. They’re planning on preparing a special meal tonight to go along with it.”
“Sounds good.”
“I just hope the wine doesn’t disappoint.”
“Yeah?”
“Damn right. BB and Marty snagged two fat turkeys this morning and Cody and Amanda brought in ten plump turtles ’bout an hour ago. And, from what I’m told, Roger makes a seriously delectable turtle soup. I expect dinner this evening will surpass expectations.”
“Good deal.”
“Right now most of our crew are out searching for soup vegetables while you’re sitting brooding here all by yourself.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Suit yourself.”
McLeod placed two crystal wine glasses on the patio table, closer to Connor, tossing down a corkscrew. Understanding his role, Connor grabbed the corkscrew and slowly uncorked the wine, sniffing the cork.
“Smells right.”
“Well, that’s good to know. How about you pour some you insufferable prick?”
Grinning at the unusual use of profanity, Connor filled both glasses almost full, and McLeod reached and took one, raising it in toast.
“To the big unknown, Mac. May it keep our times interesting for at least a few more years.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
Sampling the wine, they were quite pleased with the taste. Together, they leisurely studied the farmhouse, tracking Amanda’s exit and her stroll fifty yards away toward the large pond and barn sixty yards out. Sensing their gaze, she waved and they waved back.
“There’s a big batch of scallions seventy-five feet off the back left corner of the barn, if you’re looking for any,” said Connor. His voice carried easily when he slipped into a command tone.