“Sure, there’s the phone over there on the wall, but how do you know it’s Al Qaeda?”
“I don’t have time to explain, but I swear to God it’s the truth. They put a price on Gil’s head right after he won the Medal of Honor.”
There was almost no one in the state of Montana who didn’t know about Gil being a war hero. “Make your call. I’m gonna get dressed and grab my rifle.”
She moved toward the phone. “Dusty, I can’t ask you to get involved in this.”
“Don’t be silly, Marie. I never had nothin’ against you. It was our dads who didn’t wanna get along.”
She took the receiver from the hook on the old push-button phone. “Gettin’ along is one thing, Dusty, but gettin’ shot at is another.”
“Just call your old man,” he said, trotting upstairs. “I’ll be right down.”
Gil answered a minute later. “Hello?”
“Gil, it’s me!”
“Thank God!” he said. “I’ve been calling the house, but no one answers. Are you guys all right?”
“No. Al Qaeda’s back, and there’s about twenty of ’em. I think they’ve already killed Glen and Roger. I’m at Chatham’s place now with Oso. Buck and Hal are still back at the ranch lookin’ after Mama. She got hurt when they tried to blow up the house, Gil.”
“How bad are you hurt?” Gil’s tone was hard and deep, very soldierly. “And don’t tell me you’re fine. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I got a cracked rib, but I’m okay. One of them caught me trying to escape in the storm, but Oso saved me.”
Gil dominated his terror. “Are you safe now?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’m already in the air with my team and headed that way. You stay put.”
“Dusty’s getting his rifle. I think he means to go help Buck.”
“You’re kidding! He hates Buck.” Dusty and Buck had gotten into huge festering arguments at nearly every cattle auction for the last ten years, each regularly accusing the other of intentionally driving up the bid just to piss off the other. “Talk ’im out of it if you can. He’ll only get himself killed. Either way, you stay put. Hear me?”
“But Mama’s—”
“Mama’s in good hands, Marie. I mean it! You stay put!”
“Okay.”
“I gotta go forward and talk with the pilot. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She was hanging up as Dusty was coming down the stairs dressed in his Carhartt rain gear, toting a scoped .30–06 bolt-action hunting rifle.
“Dusty, Gil doesn’t think you should go over there. He’s on the way with his team now.”
“What team?”
She pulled her wet hair back from her face. “Navy SEALs. They’re on a plane headed this way.”
“Well, I ain’t no SEAL, but I can shoot, and if two of Buck’s boys are already dead, he’s gonna need help holdin’ the fort until the cavalry shows up.” He took a black cowboy hat from a peg on the wall and put it on. “Ya know, your mama picked me up at school once when I was little. My stepmom flipped her car over in the blizzard, and with everybody busy trying to find her, they all sorta forgot about me. But not your mama. I remember her tellin’ me on the way home that cattle folk gotta look after one another, even if they don’t always get along. I reckon she was right.”
“Dusty, she wouldn’t ask you to risk your neck because she gave you a ride home in the snow.”
“I know it.” He took a box of cartridges from a drawer. “I’m gonna get saddled up. You make yourself at home.”
He pulled the door open.
“Dusty, wait!”
He looked at her.
“You got an elastic bandage?”
“All horse people got elastic bandages. Why?”
“Help me wrap this cracked rib, and I’ll go with you. You’ll need me to point out who was where when I left.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Marie. No offense, but you’re a woman, and you’re hurt.”
“How many Al Qaeda have you killed, Dusty?”
“None, but that’s not what I’m talkin’—”
“Well, I’ve killed two already, so round me up a goddamn bandage, will ya? I’d like to get back in this thing before it’s over.”
59
“Master Chief, I’m sorry as hell,” the pilot of the Gulfstream V was saying. “I really am, but I’ve been ordered to divert to Creech AFB, and that’s what I’ve got to do.”
“My hearth and home are under attack,” Gil said. “Do you understand what that means? Al Qaeda is on the ground trying to kill my family.”
“I understand,” said the pilot, an air force captain. “But my orders come straight from Colonel Bradshaw, and his orders are straight from the president himself. What can I do?”
“You can stay on course!”
“No, I can’t. I’d be flying straight into a court martial. You may not have a problem disobeying orders, but I’m not wired that way. Besides, the FBI and the Montana State Police are both en route to your ranch. I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”
Gil knew he had to get to Montana. The Helena office of the FBI didn’t even have a helicopter at its immediate disposal, much less any kind of hostage rescue team. And as for the Montana State Police, they were good guys, but most of their training was traffic related, and Gil knew they’d be no match for a trained Al Qaeda hit squad — especially if they were AQAP operators.
He shifted his gaze to the copilot. “How about it, Lieutenant?”
The copilot pointed at the pilot. “My orders come from him.”
Gil left the cockpit mad enough to shoot somebody, pulling the door closed after him.
Crosswhite was waiting there. “What did they say?”
He shook his head. “They aren’t wired like me.”
“What about John Brux?” Crosswhite suggested. “Think he could help?”
Gil cocked his eyebrow. “You got ’im in your fuckin’ pocket?”
“Look, these fuckin’ planes will damn near land themselves,” Crosswhite said. “We’ll just get Brux on the phone, and he’ll tell us how to program the computer.”
“That’s a pretty good idea.” Gil chuckled. “Once in a while, you’re almost worth having around.”
A few minutes later, they had John Brux on the sat phone, and Gil broke the situation down for him. Brux was the former air force pilot who had flown topcover for Gil’s unauthorized mission to rescue Sandra Brux, Brux’s wife.
“We owe you everything,” Brux told him over the phone. “So, yeah. Hell, yeah. If you can get in the pilot’s seat, I’ll tell you how to program the computer.”
“Stand by.” Gil looked at the rest of the team. “Any of you guys have a problem taking the cockpit if the pilots won’t give it up?”
The SEALs all popped out of their seats.
Crosswhite put his hand on the cockpit door. “Just give us the order, Chief.”
Gil nodded reluctantly. “Take the plane.”
Crosswhite opened the door and stepped into the cockpit. “Excuse me, Captain.”
The pilot looked back at him. “What now?”
Crosswhite placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Well, you can put this plane on autopilot and vacate the cockpit. Or you can try to resist us and probably end up crashing the goddamn thing. Which is it gonna be?”
“Bullshit! You’ll kill us all if you try landing this thing yourselves.”
“We’ve got a G-V pilot on the phone who says he can talk us through the landing. So get outta the goddamn seat.”
The pilot looked at his copilot. “See? I told you these crazy fuckers would pull something.”