«Look, Mike,» said Harold, leaning forward and his voice dropping, «there's a place for you.» He nodded seriously, his eyes boring into the sergeant who had trained him so many years before. «These are the people who know how to get the job done. Sometimes there are problems, the REMFs that don't know when to crap or get off the pot. And sometimes they need a little lesson. You dig?»
«Harold,» said Mike Senior, suddenly wishing that he knew what the hell was happening, «this is my place. I'm old, man. Real old.»
«Don' matter, man. So am I,» said the visitor, spreading his arms, «and look at me! They want experienced people. And with the call-up they are getting damned hard to find. Your name popped out of the computer and it was like a sign from God.»
«I was wondering why you looked so good. Rejuv?» asked O'Neal.
«We got all the support anybody could want,» said Harold. He leaned forward and swept his hands across in a negative gesture. «Whatever you want, we can get it. No questions. Whatever you want.»
Mike nodded seriously and finally realized where they were in the conversation. This was not an offer that could be refused. Harold had told him that he was involved with a group that was outside constitutional bounds, had access to full Galactic medical technology and could obtain any weapon or support. The fact that nobody had ever had an inkling that such a group existed simply pointed out the fact that no one had ever talked about it. Ever.
Since he had no intention of joining such a group, it would require that he never be able to talk about it.
Leaving Cally in the room was a deft touch on the part of his former pupil. Harold assumed, perhaps correctly, that Mike would not want to kill him in front of the girl. Harold, on the other hand, would have no such qualms. One of the problems with being in the military is that you don't always get to choose your acquaintances or trainees. In the case of Harold, Mike Senior had always secretly despised him. The man was the Compleat Sociopath. If he shot a five-year-old girl by mistake the only thing he would feel was recoil.
This left Mike Senior in a bit of a pickle. And it was one he wasn't quite sure he was going to survive. Harold had just as much experience as he did and he was physiologically years younger. Since Harold knew that there was a chance Mike Senior would turn down the job, he was undoubtedly armed and prepared to kill Mike and Cally. He would also be prepared to ignore or end any distraction. If Mike even offered to get up it would probably terminate the interview. With prejudice.
The only thing that he could do was play along. Of course, Harold would suspect that he was playing along. That was what would make it so interesting.
«Well,» said Papa O'Neal, steepling his fingers—the moment of thought had been a flash; there should have been nothing to betray his sudden insight—«That's an interesting offer.» Just as he said it, his beeper went off. Again.
Harold leaned forward so fast it made a cobra look slow and his hand moved towards his side but Papa O'Neal simply sat very still and hoped for the best. When Harold also froze Mike smiled thinly. «Beeper.»
Harold laughed. «Huh. Yeah. Yours?» The assassin leaned forward with his hands on his thighs.
The weapon was either on his side or in a skeleton holster on the back. And who the hell could be coming to call? Papa O'Neal lifted up his shirt, exposing the beeper. The gesture looked totally normal as he pulled it off his left side. He could only hope and pray that Harold still thought he was in the dark.
Harold's hands remained in sight on his thighs. Side then. Papa O'Neal made a show of checking the beeper. «It's my son,» he lied. «He's on his way to rejoin his unit.»
The sensors showed another vehicle. This one had a heavy metal signature. Either a large truck or a van with metal in it. The last time he had seen a signature like that was when he and his buddies came back from Dahlonega after a weekend shooting against the Rangers. It actually looked an awful lot like a van full of door-kickers. Since he didn't expect reinforcements, he had to assume that it was friends of his visitor come to ensure the real orders were carried out.
«As I said,» Papa O'Neal continued, «that's a very interesting offer. Especially the rejuv. That is what we're talking about, right?»
«Yeah,» said Harold relaxing ever so slightly. «That's part of the package.»
«Well, God knows I've done some wet work in my time . . .» he said when Cally interrupted.
«Grandpa, did Daddy give you the key to this puzzle box?»
«No, honey,» he snapped, not taking his attention away from the visitor. At normal speed the van would just about be clearing the woodline. They might unload under cover and try to sneak up. Or they might barrel-ass right up to the door. If the second, they would be here in less than a minute. Which meant that time was about over for the conversation. «Figure it out yourself.»
«I'm kind of in a hurry,» said Harold as if reading his mind. «I think I need a yes or no. Now.» He leaned forward and his right hand drifted downward.
«Well, I never did like the balance on that Galactic piece of shit,» Cally said to no one in particular. There was a sound of a slide drawing back.
Mike Senior closed his eyes just in time to block out the blood and brains from Harold Locke's head as an exploding .380 round from Cally's Walther PPK opened it up like a melon.
He wiped his eyes, lunged to his feet and spit the soft-boiled-egg-like brains out of his mouth. «Good work, girl, but we got company.»
«I know,» she said. «That's why I hurried. I was hoping he'd give some more away. Bunker?»
«Yeah.» He paused for just a moment as she carefully safed the small pistol and started towards the command bunker. «How did you know?»
«Your right hand twitches when you've got losing cards. That and you lied about the beeper.» She didn't mention her first reaction. Why she had started trying to open the puzzle box right after they came in. It was because the man had looked at her like Grandpa looked at a chicken he was about to harvest.
He nodded his head and smiled. «I don't think you learned that from your father, did you?»
«No,» she said, thumbing towards the door out in obvious emphasis. «But Dad didn't teach me how to play cards. Mom did. Let's go.»
CHAPTER 54
Rabun County, GA, United States Of America, Sol III
0325 EDT October 11th, 2004 ad
The team leader's head came up at the crack of the pistol round and he shook it violently. There were two protectees though. One was a young female and the profile on the assassin did not make that a pretty picture. There was still a mission; the question would be how to proceed.
He waved for the point to stop and turned to the technical expert. That worthy was deciphering the readout from the Galactic-supplied life sensors. He made a motion for three humans, one terminated. One male, one female alive. Male and female were moving.
The team leader checked the location and gave the point hand signals to move to the opposite side of the house and do a covert entry. He waited impatiently for more intelligence.
* * *
Mike Senior finished strapping Cally into the Kevlar battle armor and threw his own on. Cally had pulled down her British 7.62 Bullpup and the sight of her with pistol and rifle made him think of other ways to spell her name. The drying blood flecked through her blonde hair was a sight to behold.