Hoover shook his head. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”
A nurse hurried by.
“I can’t provide details here. Come up to the armory this afternoon and I’ll explain what I can.”
Three vehicles pulled to a stop in front of a small diner on a quiet Olympia street. Stepping from the middle vehicle Caden thought about home. Considering that a war might be coming, be grateful that I had a few hours off. That was what he had told Maria when, right after church, he had left for the armory and then straight on to Olympia, but the look on her face was not one of gratefulness.
“I’m surprised there are any restaurants open in Olympia,” General Collins said.
“Aren’t there any around the joint base?” Governor Monroe asked.
“One, but you pay a first-rate price for a third-rate meal and I have no idea where they get their food.”
A guard hurried from the lead jeep and opened the door as the trailing vehicle parked behind.
Stepping in, the Governor said, “This will be a decent meal for a five-star price. The family that runs this place purchases their food from local farms. They’re still able to do that, but they tell me that the cost is steep and rising.”
Caden noticed David Weston seated at a long table near the rear of the diner. He still had a bandage across his nose and bruises under his eyes, but thanks to the video and two area TV stations getting back on the air, he was now a local celebrity.
Three men sat across from David. When they turned, he recognized the state treasurer, secretary of state and the chief of the state patrol. After everyone shook hands, Governor Monroe sat next to Weston. Generals Collins and Harwich sat across from each other with Caden at the end of the table between them.
The restaurant was empty except for a man in a business suit sitting in the corner. His hair was dark with silver sprinkled throughout. Caden thought he might be part of the protection for the governor, but within moments of their arrival, he paid his bill and departed.
The waiter was soon at their table.
“Do you have coffee?” Weston asked.
“No, sorry, we ran out a few days ago.”
Recalling that he had some with breakfast Saturday, Caden wondered how much his dad had stashed away.
The waiter put on a big smile. Tonight we have chicken roasted with Herbs de Provence, garlic, onions and olive oil….”
Chicken or nothing. Well, it sounds like they tried to do something nice with it.
“…and we have new potatoes steamed with mint.”
Good.
“For vegetables,” he said in an excited voice, “we have corn or broccoli.”
Caden recalled how President Bush had banned broccoli from the White House. He had similar feelings. Corn it is. I’ll bet it’s canned. He was amused that despite the limited options it took longer for orders to be decided. He knew he was one of the lucky ones. Early on he had been able to buy enough food, water and gas. Now he lived on a farm surrounded by other farms. Selection might be limited, but he and his family would eat.
While the discussion continued, two of the soldiers came in and sat at a table near the door. One had a pistol and the other an M4. Caden assumed the other two were with the jeeps outside. He patted his holster. No one expected trouble tonight, but caution was prudent.
When the waiter had everyone’s order, Governor Monroe pointed to the soldiers by the door. “Get them whatever they would like.”
For the next hour, over a simple meal of chicken, corn and potatoes at a nondescript diner they discussed the likelihood of war and the future of the country.
As long as the discussion had been on policy and relief efforts Caden was engaged, but the subject had turned to the economy. He pushed his plate back as his eyes drifted to the soldiers by the door and their quiet discussion. The artwork on the walls and thoughts of home danced through Caden’s mind.
Weston’s phone chimed and he quickly pulled it from a pocket.
“That phone is official business,” Governor Monroe said to those around the table. Then in a hushed voice he added, “I think he keeps it on even when he showers.”
Everyone laughed.
“Huh?” Weston said slipping the phone back in his pocket.
“I’ll explain later,” the governor said. “What was the call?”
He shrugged. “The screen said it was the Emergency Operations Center, but the call dropped before I heard anyone.”
“I’ll go by the EOC when we’re done,” General Harwich said.
Dropped calls were too common to be of concern.
The governor nodded. “We’re nearly done.”
The treasurer continued a discussion of currency issues.
Caden continued his contemplation of restaurant artwork until a familiar engine sound focused his attention. His eyes locked on the street. The two soldiers by the door stopped talking as a Stryker vehicle lumbered past. Caden turned to General Collins. “Was that from your base?”
The general’s eyes narrowed. “It must be.” He stood and walked toward the door.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caden watched General Collins march from the diner and go left, in the direction the Stryker had gone. Caden followed him, but hesitated just outside the door.
The glow from streetlights and a few windows cast long sinister shadows as Collins walked along the middle of the empty road toward the vehicle parked at the corner. The gunner had the M2 machine gun pointed at the diner.
Instincts that had served Caden well in combat now roared again to life. He looked back up the street and, as he expected, another Stryker was parked at that corner. A squad of soldiers and two civilians stood nearby.
One of the guards from inside the restaurant joined Caden on the sidewalk. “What’s going on?”
Caden whispered, “Find a way out the back and get everyone to safety.” Where ever that might be. He stepped inside with the soldier and, looking at the group of civilians said, “Everyone needs to go—now.” He felt like a mouse sniffing cheese at the edge of a trap. Any second now this thing will spring on me. But he needed to assist the general and give the governor and others more time to get away. He sighed, tapped his holster, and joined General Collins down the street.
Looking up at the young soldier behind the M2 in the turret, the general demanded, “On whose authority are you here?”
“I don’t know sir.”
“Then get me someone who does—now!”
A young lieutenant stepped out. “Sir, we were ordered to provide protection for the U.S. Marshals.”
“Lieutenant that is not what I asked. I can see what your orders are; I want to know who gave them to you.”
Footsteps clicked on the pavement behind him. He turned.
“U.S. Marshals.” The man held up his badge.
It was the restaurant customer with salt and pepper hair. He was followed by another man in a business suit.
“I’m Deputy Marshal Reid, this is Deputy Marshal Smith.”
Caden grinned inwardly. Why didn’t I see it before? Reid looks like one of the Men in Black. Actually both of them look like movie federal agents.
Reid continued. “At our request Colonel Shaw ordered them to assist us with the arrest of Governor Daniel Monroe. Both of you need to leave the area immediately.”
The General turned from the Marshal back to the lieutenant. “Stand down and return to JBLM.”
“Yes sir.” The young officer took two steps backward toward the Stryker.
Reid demanded, “He is not going anywhere until we have….”