“She knows where you’re going?”
“Well, not specifics, but if the president and her men had any access to my military record to go with it, and, had Nicole shared my habits and tendencies—”
“Such as?”
“I dunno. Like I keep a very low profile. I travel light. Avoid possible nuclear fallout. No horses like you and your men. No use of motorized equipment. No playing around in the larger population centers, general purpose and direction, you know shit like that—”
“Still, Mac, that’s an impressive logistical feat to have narrowed you to this general area.”
“I know! Tell me about it.”
“They woulda had to talk to someone else besides this Nicole.”
“Probably. But, I’ve had maybe less than twenty direct interactions with people during the past year. Granted, most were short duration, maybe a day or two. Most of ’em didn’t even know who I was let alone where I was going. And, I can’t begin to figure out who that might be. But, any of the other women I’d spent time with wouldn’t have produced any baby. I’m sure on that… Hell, like I said, before Amanda and after Nicole, there were only three other woman and…”
“Let’s just forget how Starkes did it and focus on what we plan to do about it once we’re there,” suggested McLeod.
“You mean at the Hall of Fame?”
“Yeah.”
Connor slugged back the last dregs of the second glass of wine, standing. It was obvious from his demeanor that the current conversation was coming to a close.
“If we’re going to do this, McLeod, it’s gonna have to be a team decision from the start.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not gonna drag this new crew into this kinda shit.”
“Makes sense. It’s a good way to test the cohesion, integrity and stress-tolerance of the new crew.”
“Mr. Psychology of War talking.”
John McLeod smiled. “Another back handed compliment?”
Connor walked around the table, handing his glass to McLeod. “I’m thinking you and I’ll make a damn good team, McLeod.”
“So do I, Mac.”
Nodding, Connor turned toward the barn. “Thanks for the wine. Good call on your approach. Be sure to do it again… and, thanks.”
“Welcome.”
Connor slowly started his walk toward the barn. After a few steps, he stopped. “We’ll need to cover twenty miles per day, minimum, to reach the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before September eighth. We’re going have to be real careful and consistent now to assess the impact of radiation fallout as we near Cleveland. There’s several nuke plants nearby and we don’t want to be walking into a hot zone. Plus, we’ll be able to conduct a preemptive assessment.”
“Okay.”
“This is some crazy bat-shit,” said Connor, nearly out of range.
“That’s for sure,” mumbled John McLeod.
CHAPTER 5.15-Killington Makes His Mark
“I need to talk with you, Phoenix.”
“Come back in ’bout an hour, would ya, uncle? I’m almost through with breakfast.”
“Best not.”
Phoenix relaxed his grip on the slender hips of the scared young teen sitting on his lap. The serious expression of Larry Reed gave him pause in his fondling.
“Go on, then. Talk.”
“Private.”
Sighing audibly, Phoenix slipped the leather recliner footrest closed and slid the thirteen-year-old brunette from his lap. Raven hair disheveled and white blouse in disarray, the barefoot teenager stood and shook slightly in front of him, waiting for his next instruction. With a dismissive nod, Phoenix sent her away and she adjusted her short skirt as she bolted passed Larry in bare feet.
“Something’s supposed to happen here on September eighth.”
“Source?” asked Phoenix, instantly alert.
“Luke was able to sneak within thirty feet of the northeast perimeter guard posted last night.”
“Luke Killington or Grabel?”
“Killington.”
“Alright. A good man. Go on.”
“He heard that Colonel Starke’s expecting somebody September eighth.”
“No kidding? Reinforcements?”
“No, sounded like there’s just one guy coming. Luke thinks the guy’s name is something like Connor or Connor Mac.”
“One man?”
“Yep.”
“What? Was he separated from their unit before they came here?”
“Didn’t sound like it.”
“Get Luke. Bring him here.”
“Yep. He’s right outside, hold on.”
Larry Reed slipped the penthouse door open, waving Luke Killington in with a subtle nod. Once in the room, they walked together across the plush carpet to stand at the wall-to-wall windows. Already at the window and deep in thought, Phoenix lit a thin cigar, staring below at the rooftops of downtown Cleveland. Both men near him waited a half-minute for him to acknowledge their presence.
“Go ahead, Luke,” said Phoenix, “You have my full attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Start from the top. From the point when you heard the discussion.”
Luke was twenty-one and fiercely battle tested in seven bloody skirmishes he survived the past few years. Rail thin and wiry, he had an intensity that reminded you of a wolf who hadn’t found food for the past week. Point in fact, he was one of Larry’s infamous “Pride Brigade” that helped keep the city in line; was known to be a ferocious competitor in the annual Cleveland mixed martial arts combat games. And, he was the best of the human trackers they had. Phoenix had become quite impressed with the man the past year, so much so, that he was considering some way to assign much greater responsibility to test the man.
“Yes, sir. Sims and Marco, of Starkes’ unit, were covering the northeast guard post last night. Their usual overlap routes let ’em meet up three times an hour, always varying time and location. Kept at it most of the night. Good discipline, but once, at around three o’clock, they chatted for a bit.”
“Yeah?”
“Centered ’round a guy called ‘Connor’ or ‘Connor Mac’ and the fact that they’re waiting ’round for him and would he show.”
“They know him?” interrupted Phoenix.
“No. That’s what confused me, at first. It’s like they’re expectin’ him to show up like he was invited or somethin’. Said somethin’ about San Francisco, but I didn’t catch it all.”
“And?”
“And they said that they were wondering if Starkes was gonna decide to stay much longer if he didn’t show up on the eighth. That was the date they said. Said it twice.”
“September eighth.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else?”
“Not much. But, Sims seemed impressed with the guy. Said he hoped this Connor Mac showed up ’cause he wanted to see ‘what such a bad ass is like in person’. But, Marco stepped in and said ‘not to believe everything you hear’ and they started talking about Cindy, Rachel, and Luanne down at the goods store and how they were… you know comparing notes.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that Edgars, the black-haired guy with the missing left ear… well, they thought he was distracted and ‘seriously looking to nail Suzie’, you know, Suzie Hoffman the…”
“That’s all, Luke?”
“Yep.”
“Okay then, Luke. I’m impressed. Good job.”
“Thank you.”
“Larry, see to it Luke is given an added 600 RCs this month.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Luke.
The generosity of Ration Credits was the equivalent of six months pay.
“That’d be all, Luke,” said Larry.