But there were some that they didn’t know about, he hoped. They couldn’t cover everyone. No one had unlimited resources, not even the Agency. And they had limited powers inside the US anyway; they had already broken any number of laws and while a certain amount of that could be covered up, it became more and more risky the more they did. He had to depend on them not knowing he had the XH in him. He hoped they thought it was just a missed opportunity and they wouldn’t frame a federal charge to get the FBI and every other law enforcement agency in the country looking for him.
He got out his beat-up Army-issue green memo book that he’d had forever, that he’d carried to the Gulf and back. It had long since been laminated and converted into a home address book and retired to a drawer, but he had grabbed it on the way out of the house and now looked up Ezekiel “Zeke” Johnstone’s number. He had to risk it, and since he hadn’t contacted Zeke since forever, he hoped they hadn’t connected the two of them yet.
Calling, he reached a screening service. Right, this number isn’t on his safe list. He said, “720th” at the beep, waited through Please Enjoy The Music While We Reach Your Party, and almost gasped with relief when he heard Zeke pick up.
“Yeah?” he said, his voice neutral.
“It’s me, man. Deej. Think a few years back. 720th, Kandahar. I can’t say any more, they might have a keyword trace.”
“Yeah man, I got it. Let me call you back on a better line.”
He could hear a woman’s voice, a shriek of childish mirth in the background. He closed his eyes as he hung up. Damn, I hate to drag him into this.
A minute later the pay phone rang and Daniel picked back up.
“All right, I’m on a one-off. You sure they ain’t got your end?”
“Not a hundred percent, but ninety-nine-point nine. It’s a pay phone and if they knew where I was they’d already have picked me up.”
“All right. What you get into this time? Another loan shark?”
Daniel used to gamble, and lose. It was one risk of being an adrenaline junkie – when ops slowed down, you had to find something for a jolt. Some guys drank too much, chased women, or took up high-risk sports. Skydiving, that was a given. Bungee jumping, jet-ski, flying, racing…he did all of that, especially the drinking…he had also played craps. A lot. He’d gotten stuck. The inevitable mathematics of the house odds had eventually strangled him, and he borrowed from the wrong people. Zeke and some of his guys had helped him out with that. Daniel paid him back and he’d been clean ever since.
“No, nothing so simple. This is something big, something black, blacker than black. Man, I hate to involve you, what with Cassie and the kids, but it’s either you or run for the border. I don’t want to run yet.”
“It’s all right, man. You know what I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me your family. I think you need to cut them out. Get some distance.”
He could see Zeke in his mind’s eye, thinking and chewing the inside of his cheek the way he always did. “All right. Can you find the cabin?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Yeah, I can find it. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to lead them to it. And Zee-man…might want to put out a warning order for a few more guys, just in case. This is some through-the-looking-glass stuff, and I don’t know how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
“Just don’t tell me I’m going to wake up in a tank full of goo with a tube down my throat.”
“Well, I got a red pill for you here, if you want it.”
He snorted. “All right, Morpheus. When can you be there?”
Daniel thought for a moment, trying to calculate the distance and time. About ten hours to Cave Run Lake, Kentucky. “Sometime tonight, I think. Same white van.”
“Okay, brother. You take care, and I’ll see you tonight.”
He put down the phone, used the head, then went out and paid for his food order. He brought it out to the van and ate a bagel sandwich sitting there in the seat, watching Quantico go about its morning routine. After drinking a half a gallon of the milk he started on the coffee. Hunger pangs seemed to come and go, and apparently he had to feed them when they did.
On the road he passed the inbound base traffic piled up at the gate. Then he took it easy, driving in the right lane south down I-95, letting his thoughts flow.
Things were a thousand times better now. Yeah, he felt a little guilty for putting Zeke on the spot, but what were friends for, anyway, and Daniel had saved his life, after all. In some cultures that meant he was responsible for Zeke. Either way, me for him, him for me.
There was nothing quite like the bond between men who had faced death together. It sounded corny, even in his mind, but it was the unspoken truth that turned recruits into veterans and boys into men on the battlefield, and had for millennia. It was more important than just about anything else, on a par with the love between husband and wife. In fact, Daniel knew guys who would choose their brothers in arms before their wives, maybe even their kids.
Might not be right, but it was strong, very strong.
That didn’t mean he even liked the guys, always. Sometimes he couldn’t even stand them, outside of an op, and Daniel was always a bit of a loner, hadn’t worried about keeping in touch. He could always find them later, he’d thought.
Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. He hadn’t memorized many Bible verses, but that was one of them. He couldn’t remember who said it, but that guy really knew what he was talking about. I hope he died well, saving his friends. Couldn’t ask for a better way to go. I know I’d welcome it when it came, if I died doing my duty, so others could live.
Daniel shook off his melancholy thoughts. Maybe the XH meant he didn’t have to think about dying anymore, or his buddies dying or anyone. Maybe XH would put him out of business. That was a strange idea. This stuff was going to change the world, if the unknown downside didn’t turn out to be too bad.
In any case, physically he felt great, better and better by the hour. His thoughts were clearer, his body hummed with vitality and health. It was an overnight revolution. And all he had to do was bite someone, he figured, to pass it on. He had a feeling of power, of the ability to bestow a gift on his friends and withhold it from his enemies, whoever they were. Then he felt a sudden stab of conscience, realizing that he wouldn’t, couldn’t withhold it from anyone that needed it. That Others May Live was his code. Not That Others Who I Happen To Like May Live.
Daniel’s resolve crystallized. He realized then that everyone had to have this stuff.
Conscience nagged at him as he drove, with nothing to do but think and listen to the radio. He started remembering stupid things he’d done as a kid, growing up in Omaha. He’d hurt people, emotionally and physically. He’d been a jerk, because he could be. He was big and tough and athletic and good-looking and he’d used and discarded girls like paper cups, drinking his fill then tossing them away. He’d had a filthy mouth, he’d gotten into fights, and he’d bullied weaker people around him. It was all for their own good, of course, and they deserved it, of course, and he deserved whatever he wanted from life, of course.