"Just getting comfortable." Ham sighted again, then flipped off the safety. He took aim at a full-length target of a man, sighted on the middle of the chest and fired, making a big noise. A moment later, the.50 caliber bullet struck the target dead in the crotch, exploding a big chunk out of the tree it was attached to.
"Right on line, but low," Peck said, looking through a small pair of binoculars he had produced from a pocket.
Ham made a small adjustment in the sight. "Nice that there's no wind on the strip, since we've got trees on both sides," he said.
"You can't hit anything with this weapon if there's wind," Peck said. "We wouldn't ask you to shoot under those circumstances."
Ham gripped the big rifle again. He fired, and the middle of the target's chest disappeared.
"Right on," Peck said, checking through his binoculars. "Try for a head shot."
Ham fired again and took off the target's left ear. "My fault," he said. "I pulled too quick." He tried again and blew off the target's head.
"That's terrific shooting," Peck said.
"I'm ready to go to work," Ham replied. "I'll do whatever I can to help. When do I start?"
Peck smiled. "How about next week?"
45
Ham fired through the morning at targets of varying sizes, hitting everything with monotonous regularity.
"Tell me, Ham," Peck said, "how do you sight this thing in if you're in a place that's new to you?"
"Will we know the distance ahead of time?"
"Approximately."
"If somebody can pace it off, then I can preset the elevation; windage is another thing. I'll just have to guess, and I can't guarantee you a kill on the first shot."
Peck nodded gravely. "That's about what I thought."
"Would this be in a public place?"
Peck nodded again.
"You planning to use explosive shells?"
"Probably."
"Then I'd suggest firing a nonexplosive round the first time, followed by an explosive one. Won't take more than a couple of seconds to adjust the sights."
Peck nodded thoughtfully, then he looked at his watch. "Let's get some lunch," he said.
They got back into the truck, and Ham headed back toward Peck's house, but halfway there, he was directed to make a right turn, toward the lake.
"Let's drop your gear off at the bunkhouse," Peck said.
"Okay."
They arrived at a low, clapboard building, and Ham got his duffel from the back of the truck. It was much like a military barracks, one big room with a small office and heads at one end. There were two dozen bunks, and a dozen of them had gear piled on them.
"Pick a bunk," Peck said.
Ham chose the bunk nearest the heads. "Looks like you've got some new arrivals," he said, nodding toward the luggage on the other bunks.
Peck nodded. "By the way, have you got a cell phone?"
"Yep. In my duffel."
"Let me have it."
Ham retrieved the phone and handed it to Peck, who slipped it into a pocket. They got back into the truck, and Ham resisted the urge to ask why Peck wanted his cell phone. Peck answered his question anyway.
"We've been locked down since nine o'clock this morning," Peck said. "Nobody leaves for any reason, not even to buy groceries, without John's permission. Nobody makes a phone call; nobody sends smoke signals; nobody uses a reflecting mirror. Nobody travels or communicates, unless he wants to catch a bullet."
"Okay," Ham said, because he couldn't say anything else. "When do we jump off?"
"Next week. You'll be told when you need to know."
Today was Wednesday, Ham reflected, and these people were planning something very public the following week, and he had no way to communicate with Holly or Harry.
They drove back to the main house, got into line for food and sat at a picnic table with John.
"Peck told you we're locked down?" John asked.
"Yes."
"That okay with you? You got any loose ends that need tidying?"
Ham shook his head. "I'm ready to go when you are."
"I know you are, Ham. I think I'm beginning to know you better than you know yourself. I'm not ready to tell you what we're doing, but I can tell you this: you're going to be doing something good for your country and for the group. And you're going to enjoy it."
"Sounds good to me," Ham replied. "Excuse me, I've got to take a leak." He took his tray back, then walked toward the house, thinking furiously, trying to work out a plan. He entered the house, and on the way to the john, looked into Peck's office. A group of men was in the middle of some sort of discussion. He used the toilet, then slowly washed his hands, taking as much time as he reasonably could.
He left the john and walked back down the hall. Just ahead of him, the group from Peck's study were filing out of the room, no doubt headed for lunch. He made a show of looking at some flyers on a bulletin board, advertising right-wing literature for sale by mail order, then, when the last of the group was out of the house, he ducked into Peck's study.
He stopped directly under the smoke detector. "This is Ham," he said. "Listen up. They're planning something for next week, I don't know what or when, and the place is locked down, so I can't leave. You're going to have to get a phone to me, and it's going to have to be by water. I'm staying at a bunkhouse down by the lake, looks like a military barracks. I'll try to leave a light on to guide you. Put the phone in a plastic bag and leave it under a rock on the shore as close to the bunkhouse as you can. Do it tonight. I'll find it. That's all."
He hurried back to the picnic table and joined John and Peck.
"You were a long time," John said.
Ham patted his stomach. "I was a little late this morning; usually my bowels go like clockwork."
John nodded. "Peck tells me you're ready with the Barrett's rifle," he said. "I didn't expect it to happen so quickly."
"Given the circumstances, what I've got to do is practice sighting in the rifle with one shot," Ham said.
"I want to work on a moving target, too," Peck added. "Just in case."
"Good idea," John said. "You never know what might happen, the target could be rolling."
"Can you slow it down?" Ham asked.
"Probably."
"Then it shouldn't be too much of a problem."
"You see?" John said to Peck. "I told you he was a can-do guy."
46
Holly left her house with Daisy at sunset, ran through the dunes with her for a while, then went next door to Harry's rental. To her surprise, she smelled cooking.
"You guys get tired of Chinese and pizza?" she asked, letting herself in through the beach door.
"I got a steak here for you," Harry replied. "How do you like it?"
"Medium rare. Did you get any wine?"
"I bought a mixed case," Harry said, nodding toward the carton. "I figured we'd be here long enough, and I was getting tired of beer." Harry flipped a steak over.
"Eddie, what did you get from the compound today?"
"Zip," Eddie said. "I don't even know whether it's working."
"Don't you think you'd better find out?"
"Harry, you'd better call somebody," Eddie said.
"I'll call my contact at home after we eat," Harry replied. "I'm not too exercised about this. It's early days in this surveillance."
"I don't want to miss a thing," Holly said. "You know, I thought Ham would be here by now."
"Maybe he went home to change or something," Doug said.
"Maybe, but he's been here by sunset just about every night."
They dug into their steaks and baked potatoes. "The wine's nice," Holly said.
"Australian," Harry replied. "Black Opal."
"I'll try to remember that." She suddenly remembered that she hadn't opened a bottle of wine since Jackson's death.
"The scrambler phones came," Harry said. "I got one for you, too, so we can talk between the houses without having to worry about ears."
"Good," Holly said. She looked at her watch again. "I'd like to call Ham. He shouldn't be this late."
"No good, Holly. The bug is still on his phone."