The pair got off on the fourth floor and Turnbull was glad to be alone again. It occurred to him that the female had been pretty, that at one time he might even have talked to her, chatted her up. But now, what was he going to say to her? How would he break the ice?
“Kill anyone interesting lately? I have.”
The door opened on the fifth floor and he walked into the corridor. A low-bidder fluorescent bulb flashed and flickered, casting its unnatural light on the ancient, industrial carpet that had seen a million pairs of combat boots trudging over it.
BOQ Room 555 was at the end of the hall, and without a conscious thought he scanned the frame and the seal and… saw a space.
Had he forgotten to shut the door at 0440 this morning?
No. He always checked to make sure it was snug. Always.
Housekeeping? The local ladies who vacuumed and dusted and who also did his laundry for $100 a month had been doing their thing for generations of officers. They would never forget to close a door.
Turnbull drew his SIG and stepped off center of the doorframe. He listened.
Nothing.
He slammed his tan boot hard into the door, sending it flying hard into the doorstopper on the wall. But by the time it hit he was inside, weapon up and seeking targets.
He could see most of the living room from the entry hall – clear. The kitchen was through a doorway to the right. He sliced it and advanced as a shape filled the doorway.
It was wearing camo – he was wearing camo, a big, middle aged soldier with a shocked look.
Turnbull, still charging, dropped his left hand from the pistol and grabbed the front collar of the intruder, pushing him back hard against the fridge and thrusting the pistol into his stunned face.
“Do not fucking move,” Turnbull hissed. Judging from his expression, this guy was not going to move.
Turnbull looked him over, and noted the eagle.
“Okay Colonel, why are you in my quarters?”
“Kelly,” said a familiar voice behind him in the entry hall. “Could you not shoot the nice O6?”
“He’s with you, Clay?” The gun did not waver.
“Oh yeah. He’s okay.”
Turnbull waited a moment, then lowered the weapon and released the colonel, who took in a deep breath and regained his composure.
“Well, come on in,” Turnbull said, turning to face Clay Deeds, who was also dressed in a colonel’s uniform but with a nametape reading “JOHNSON.” “You know, there is probably a better way to set up a sit down than sneaking into my quarters. This could have ended really badly. For both of you.”
“I thought Colonel French here could use a little demonstration of your unique Kelly Turnbull style.”
“Colonel French,” Turnbull said, nodding.
“Captain Turnbull,” the officer replied. “Colonel Johnson told me you could be aggressive. Highly aggressive. But, you do seem to be able to control it.”
“I think maybe you got lucky this time,” Deeds said. Turnbull holstered the pistol as he tried to get a sense of the odd dynamic.
“No,” said French. “I think he can do what we need him to do.”
“And what’s that, sir?” Turnbull said. Who was this guy?
“Let’s talk in your living room. I’d suggest we open some beers but your fridge is empty. Well, you do have some mustard and what used to be a half of a Domino’s pizza a month ago,” Deeds said.
“If I knew you were coming, I’d have stopped at the Class Six, Colonel Johnson.”
Deeds nodded and the three went into the sparely furnished living room. The intruders took seats on the nondescript couch. Turnbull sat in an old chair facing them. It had a dark stain on the cushion that looked like a horse head. The fabric felt like sandpaper.
“So, what’s going on?”
“How’s your health, Captain?” French asked.
“Good?” Turnbull said suspiciously, his eyes flicking over to meet Deeds’s own.
“Excellent,” said French.
“And my health matters why, Colonel?”
“We need to send you in,” French replied.
“In where?”
“This is all classified, of course,” French said. Of course it was – Turnbull shot Deeds a “Who is this idiot?” look, and Deeds looked up at the ceiling.
“Okay,” Turnbull said. “So where do you want me to go?”
“Indiana.”
“What?”
“The state.”
“Sir, I know what Indiana is. What I don’t know is why you would want me to go there. I mean, what’s in Indiana?”
“What is there are a bunch of red Americans trapped on the other side. Look, when the Split happened, it happened fast. Clinton took over in 2021 and immediately started retaliating against the red states. The executive orders, the regulations – and when the red states finally said ‘No more’ we were on the brink of all out civil war.”
“I remember. I was there.”
“I know. Well, I don’t know exactly what you did during the Crisis, but I expect it was pretty intense.”
“Intense is one way of putting it.”
“Our mutual friend Colonel Johnson here, whoever he really is, did not fill me in on all your past activities when we asked for you. But it’s clear you’ve operated in the People’s Republic before. And in even less permissive environments.”
“What exactly do you want me to do in Indiana?”
“Southern Indiana, to be exact. It should have come with us in the Split. There are a lot of places like that, red splotches on the map that got left on the other side because the negotiators chose to stick with state lines when splitting up the country. It was probably a good idea at the time. It had to happen fast or a lot more people were going to die than already did. You remember the hatred, don’t you?”
Turnbull did. He had been in the middle of it, the palpable contempt and fury of Americans against one another. He’d seen the blood on the ground – hell, he shed some of it. Colonel French continued.
“There are these little enclaves across the continent, red in the blue, some blue in the red. People who belong on the other side, with the other side. And the situation is getting worse. The People’s Republic – I can’t believe they chose that name just to spite us – is getting more and more oppressive every day. And they are concentrating on the red enclaves.”
“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go in and smoke somebody? Because as Colonel – what’s his fake name? Johnson? – will tell you, that’s kind of my wheelhouse.”
Deeds broke into a smile. “It really is, which is why I’m not sure you’re right for this mission.”
French continued: “There are talks coming up, secret talks. Negotiations to resolve the border once and for all. Our position will be stronger as to the red parts we want with… appropriate facts on the ground.”
“Appropriate facts on the ground?”
“If these places are hard to govern, the blues might be more willing to let them go.”
Turnbull leaned in. “How hard to govern are we talking about?”
“Not violence. Oh no, we don’t want a violent insurgency.”
“You want a peaceful one?”
“There’s resistance already. It’s informal. Mostly peaceful, though earlier this week a bunch of People’s Security Force officers were killed raiding a family outside Jasper.”