“Thanks!” yelled Amanda, veering slightly.
John and Connor sipped the wine, surprised at the fine quality.
“You a wine connoisseur, McLeod?”
“Not at all, you?”
“No, but this is good.”
“I have to agree. It is that.”
After acknowledging their find, they settled comfortably for what was obviously going to be more than a two-minute conversation. Eventually, Connor broke the comfortable silence.
“So you really think that’s it, John. This letter from the president is all about babies?”
“I dunno know. It’s a viable hypothesis until we can come up with a better one. But, I’ll admit, it does kinda fit.”
“Yeah, maybe. But, umm, that means I came through this thing different than you and the rest of the men? It means… oh, hell, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Connor stared after Amanda, lost in thought. After a moment, McLeod spoke.
“Yeah, I imagine you’re going a mile a minute out here. How about you take a few more sips of that wine. Let’s talk on this.”
“Right. You be my second pair of eyes on this. My thinkin’s kinda screwed up on the whole damn thing.”
Connor drained his glass and McLeod did the same. Taking the bottle, McLeod refilled the glasses with a flourish.
“Your turn to toast, Mac.”
At that moment, Rhonda exited the house onto the back porch, striding with purpose to the gathered firewood stacked against the rail. She wore tight-fitting blue jeans and a stylish red blouse that caught the sunlight. Both men followed her graceful movements, as she bent to grab several pieces of firewood for the living room fireplace. Glancing their way, she stopped to smile and wave, before reentering the home.
“A toast to women, then, McLeod… there’s nothing better than a good woman.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
They sipped the wine until Cody passed close by.
“Mr. Connor Mac! My Daddy’s makin’ turtle soup for dinner!”
“Wow. Great.”
“Yep. You’ll love it. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m already hungry for it.”
A quick study, Cody sensed his presence was unwanted and decided to make himself scarce.
“Okay. Bye, now. Hi, Mr. McLeod.”
“Hi, Cody.”
Both men followed Cody’s path toward the barn, knowing he was probably keeping tabs on Amanda.
“He’s one smart kid, McLeod.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Make sure you take ’im under your wing during our travels.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I’m thinkin’ he has what it takes to survive in this day and age. And, you know, I want him to benefit from your knowledge and creative thought processes.”
“Okay. I plan on it, Mac. And, thanks for the back-handed compliment.”
“Hmm.”
Each partook of the wine, before Connor made his intentions known.
“We leave at first light. BB, Marty and Jason will take overwatch until lunch. Not sure how we’ll handle the horses in all this just yet. I’ll probably listen to your take on that. Anyways, we’ll switch teams after lunch. Have Snuff and Rhonda gather up the remaining food, dispersing it across all our packs. Have Jackson bring that small Weber grill; we’ll need it for the crew. I know it’ll be annoying to transport, but we’ll be grateful. And, I’m putting you in charge of making sure we load up on the spring water.”
“Okay. Sure thing.”
Connor took another deep sip of wine. A moment later, McLeod interceded. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Mac.”
Turning, he stared at McLeod and took a deep breath. “I want the entire team to convene after dinner to discuss our planned mission objectives as we head east. I want a clear execution plan to address our approach to Cleveland and this… new problem.”
“Okay.”
“My review of our current position puts us about 110 miles from Cleveland. Today’s August twenty-eighth and the letter suggests a deadline of September eight. How the hell did this President Starkes peg our potential arrival so tightly?”
“What do you mean?” asked McLeod.
“We found this letter only twelve days before our ‘expected’ arrival. The weathering effect on the actual letters can’t be but five, maybe ten days old at most. This morning, I found thirty-two more copies within a mile of Cody’s discovery in a fairly consistent north-south dispersal pattern. Not perfect mind you, but suggestive of a low-altitude drop, perhaps from a ’copter to canvas the area. And, if you can believe it, I think each one’s an original signature. Both sides.”
“A ’copter in the air? You think?”
“Yeah, that’s the only way I can make any sense of the dispersal. And, I do believe this President Starkes signed each one of ’em.”
“Oh.”
“I’m real tempted to find out how far south this canvassing goes. It would make a difference if it continued for ten miles, or a hundred. What about five hundred?”
“Yeah, I see your point; the length of the drop would determine the scope and accuracy of their search pattern.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, and one might assume this leaflet drop was launched before a forward trajectory toward Cleveland and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Follow me?”
“Yeah,” said McLeod.
“Which means they were backtracking me from west to east, my actual direction of travel.”
“Uh, huh.”
“But, I’m still thinking… it strikes me as damn near impossible that this new president, or whoever’s working with her, could pinpoint my position that accurately. Though, I admit, it damn sure indicates she’s had some pertinent knowledge on my whereabouts.”
“Maybe she’s been searching for years.”
“I considered that, but it makes no sense. Especially based on the fresh paper and Amanda’s ‘baby bullet’ theory everybody’s so fond of.”
“Why?”
“Well, ’cause I only returned to the States last year.”
“So?”
“Why would she be looking for me prior to that? Before last year, I was traveling in the Pacific Ocean, stuck in Japan, some other piss-ass islands, or fighting my way back from Australia before that.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“To make sense of it, I’m thinking Nicole’s the one they found. It’s got to be…”
“She’s the one you mentioned was in San Francisco, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why her… wait… because the president would need to know about a baby and the gestation period takes nine months. Yes! That’s an excellent point,” said McLeod. He smiled at the implications, thinking furiously.
“To me, that means… I have a kid in California.”
“Oh. Yeah. I understand, Mac. But stay with your thinking—”
“That’s where I keep getting hung up… that puts the kid at… what maybe two, maybe three months old.”
“Okay, but—”
“I keep thinking… shit, Nicole’s stuck out there with a kid trying to survive and I just left her.”
“From what you told me, the trust factor was gone. And, you certainly didn’t know she was pregnant when you left.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“C’mon, Mac, you know as well as I do that you made the right decision. She couldn’t be trusted, right? I think the idea of a new baby’s making you forget the world we live in. It’s a hard world, there’s no second chances.”
“Yeah—”
“But go on. Continue. What else are you thinking?”
“Finding Nicole would help the president’s predicament, John. I’ve gone back on all the conversations I had with Nicole. She probably has enough intel about me to help refine any search.”