Against All Enemies (16 page)

“Then afford more. Who’s financing this thing, anyway?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

Ian stood, bracing his hands on the front of Karras’s desk, and leaning over until they were nearly face-to-face. “We need to come to an understanding, General,” he said. “Let’s start with the fact that
you
reached out to
me,
not the other way around. I don’t know if that was the doing of General Brock, or how it came about, but that fact alone puts me in the driver’s seat. At least for a while. You want me to train your troops to do the impossible, following a strategy that exists only in your and my imaginations. I will do it, but you and I will have no secrets. That’s not negotiable.”

“You haven’t earned that level of trust, Colonel.”

“I have been
granted
that level of trust, General. We established that the moment you brought me here. Now, what is the source of the money that runs this outfit?”

Karras appeared to be caught in a crack, unsure what to do. If Ian had had any doubt before regarding this man’s dearth of military training, that moment—that look in his eyes—eliminated it. “Give me a few minutes,” Karras said. “Step outside and wait. I need to make a telephone call.”

It turned out that “outside” meant all the way outside, into the heat and the humidity, and the watchful eyes of the hunters-who-would-be-sentries. He figured it had something to do with the thinness of the interior walls. He walked to the base of the stairs, took a single step farther, then pivoted to face the two uniformed boys. They both stood at a stiff and unsustainable port arms.

“My name is Colonel Carrington,” he said. He glared into the eyes of the sentries one at a time, giving them a good ten seconds of heat apiece.

Each tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, but the temptation was too much.

Ian side-stepped to his left to confront the left-guard, nose-to-nose. “Are you eyeballing me, soldier?”

The kid looked confused. And that was, after all, the point.

“I cannot read your mind, soldier. Are you eyeballing me or are you not?”

The kid cut his gaze to the left, but they were so close that it was impossible not to look at each other. “I’m trying not to, sir.”

“You are a sentry,” Ian said. “You are responsible for protecting the life of your commanding officer from anyone who might do him harm. Why are you not eyeballing me?”

The kid clearly wanted to formulate an answer to the unanswerable, but the effort left him speechless, with his jaw moving up and down.

Ian shot his head around to face the other sentry, who stared ahead intently. Ian went for it. He turned and took two large steps to confront the kid’s right ear. “And what about you, soldier?” he said. He didn’t shout. He kept his words clipped and his tone quiet. Partly because he thought much of the Marine Corps’ drill sergeant cliché was bullshit, but also because he didn’t want to draw undue attention from the people inside the trailer. “I just told your buddy that he has a responsibility to protect your boss, yet you’re not looking at me, either.”

The soldier cut his eyes toward Ian. “I-I’m not sure what you want me to do, sir.”

“What’s your name, son?” Ian asked.

“Parnell, sir. Parnell Hall, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Parnell Hall, sir.” Ian launched the statement as if it were an accusation. “What were you doing for a living this time last year?”

“I worked in the mines, sir.”

Ian whipped around to confront the left guard. “And what’s your name?”

“Christian Hall, sir. And I worked in the mines, too.”

“Which mines?”

“The Abenkee Mine, sir.”

“Is that close to here?”

“Yes, sir. Within a mile or two.”

Ian turned back to Parnell. “Is it a coincidence that you two share a last name?”

“No, sir,” Parnell said. “We’re brothers.”

“Twins, sir,” Christian added.

That certainly explained their similarity in appearance. “Fraternal, then,” Ian said.

“Excuse me?” Parnell said.

“You’re not identical.”

“No, sir.”

Ian took four steps back to allow the sentries to see him in focus. “Y’ all can stand at ease,” he said.

The boys looked confused again.

“Relax a little,” Ian said. “Let your weapons fall against their slings. All tensed up like that, you’re going to pass out in the heat.”

They hesitated in unison. These were two boys who had spent a
lot
of time with each other growing up. That wasn’t a criticism; in fact, it was a detail that could make them ferocious fighters.

“Really,” Ian said. “This isn’t a trap.”

Parnell said, “All respect, sir, how do we know that you’re who you say you are?”

Ian clapped his hands together once, and pointed at Parnell’s nose. “Exactly the right question,” he said. “I’m glad you brought that up. Let’s reason it through together. When I first arrived, I wasn’t by myself, was I?”

They shook their heads. In unison.

“No, I was under guard. And what happened to the guard?”

“They left, sir,” Christian said. He seemed excited to have an answer.

“Exactly. They left. In fact, they left me alone with whom?”

“General Karras,” Parnell said. Maybe a competition was brewing among the brothers for correct answers.

“Bingo,” Ian said. “And who is General Karras?”

“The commanding general of the Patriots’ Army.”

“Bingo again.” Ian clapped Christian on the arm as a reward for the correct answer. “Under what circumstances would those bodyguards
not
have left me alone with the commanding general?” He understood the risks inherent to asking a question in the double negative, but this was, after all, an exploratory mission.

The brothers seemed appropriately confused. Ian gave them time to sort it out. Parnell held up his finger, as if pointing to the proverbial lightbulb over his head. “They would not have left you there if you were a danger,” he said.

“Exactly. And because they did leave . . .”

It was important that they figure it out for themselves.

“Then you are not a danger to the general,” Christian said. He showed genuine pride, and a part of Ian felt proud for him.

“Exactly. Therefore, you should not feel nervous around me.”

Tension relaxed from the sentries’ shoulders. In unison.

“So, Christian,” Ian said. “Why are you here?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Why are you here? You had a job with the mine, I’m assuming you had a future with the mine. So, why are you here instead of there?”

Parnell’s features folded into confusion, as if the question did not make sense to him. “How could we not be here, sir?”

Christian said, “With all the bullshit that’s going on in Washington—pardon my French—somebody’s got to stand up. Somebody’s got to do something.”

“This is the beginning of the revolution, Colonel,” Parnell said. The brothers had fallen into a pattern of finishing each other’s sentences. “You must know that, or you wouldn’t be here, either.”

Ian smiled. He found their enthusiasm inspiring. “How did you hear about the Patriots’ Army?”

The brothers exchanged a glance. Christian answered for the two of them. “Well, sir, this isn’t a very big area. We cover a lot of ground, but there’s not a lot of secrets. Once Mr. Wainwright put out the word, it spread pretty quick.”

“And what word was that?”

Another glance, this one more uncomfortable. “Who did you say you were, Colonel?”

“I said I was Colonel Victor Carrington. General Karras has appointed me as the man to train you soldiers into a real army.”

“And why are
you
here, sir?” Christian asked. He shifted his hand ever so slightly on the grip of his M4. The move was so slight that Ian imagined that he didn’t know he’d done it.

“In time, soldier,” Ian said. “And I’d appreciate it if you would move your hand away from that trigger. We’re on the same side.” He waited for both of them to comply. “You were going to tell me about Mr. Wainwright passing the word.”

“Yes, sir,” Parnell said. “He passed the word that he was raising an army to rise up against the assholes in Washington. Pardon—”

“Your French is forgiven,” Ian said. “Now and every other time you might be inclined to tell me that. I’m not from these parts, so forgive me for asking obvious questions. Who, exactly, is Mr. Wainwright?”

The Hall boys were clearly dumfounded by the dumbness of their new visitor—or maybe their commanding officer. “He’s Mr.
Wainwright,
Colonel. He owns this part of the mountain. Hell, he own the whole mountain as far as I know.”

“So, he’s wealthy,” Ian guessed.

The Hall boys laughed. In unison. “Yeah, he’s rich,” Parnell said.

“Rich don’t touch it,” Christian added. “Him and his kin have been the most important family in this county for hundreds of years. He’s a good man. A great man. We got nothin’ around here if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s the truth,” Parnell said. “Schools, churches, hospitals, everything is here because of him.”

“So, he’s a philanthropist,” Ian said.

“Um . . .”

“He’s charitable,” Ian clarified. “He gives money away to good causes.”

“Hell yes, he does.” They said that in unison.

Ian’s head swam with questions, but he sensed that his time was growing short, so he kept the focus narrow. “Is that why everyone who’s here is here?” he asked. “Because Mr. Wainwright spread the word?”

They nodded. “Well, I suppose some people might be here for other reasons, but that’s the reason most are here.”

“Are you paid to be here?”

“No, sir,” Parnell said.

“Well, we get food and a place to sleep,” Christian said. “All the ammo we want to shoot, and lots and lots of training.”

“What does the training consist of?”

“Right now it’s mostly shooting,” Parnell said. “I mean most of us are redneck country boys to begin with, so we can shoot, but we ain’t used to shooting together. And we sure ain’t used to the explosives and stuff.”

That phrase definitely caught Ian’s attention. “What kind of explosives?”

Christian said, “We’ve got grenades, RPGs—”

“Plastic explosives—”

“Yeah, that C4 stuff.”

Ian asked, “Have you learned how to use those things?”

“Well, we’re learning now.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Shoot ’em at people, I guess,” Parnell said.

Christian added, “What else would you do with them?”

Ian smiled. “I guess you have a point,” he said. “There are relatively few uses for a rocket-propelled grenade.”

The trailer door opened, and Karras’s aide—Tommy, if memory served—motioned for Ian to come back inside. “The general wants to see you again,” he said.

“I’ve given this matter some thought,” Karras said.

“You mean you spoke with your father,” Ian countered. They’d reassumed the same positions as before, the general behind his desk, Ian in front of it.

Karras’s face twitched just enough to convince Ian that he’d struck the right nerve. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m guessing that the name Wainwright somehow figures into your family tree. I don’t know the whole background, but for some reason, you were given a very grave responsibility absent many of the skills that are necessary to make it all work. That sounds like the gift—or the curse—of a father to his son.”

“Where is this information coming from?”

“The basics—the fact that a Mr. Wainwright is the benefactor here—came from the Hall boys out front. The rest was sort of a guess on my part. Seems I did pretty well.” Ian gave him a few seconds to absorb and react. “Now, what did you decide about sharing information with me? Am I staying and helping or am I walking away?”

The general seemed to have not yet recovered his footing from being blindsided. He just glared. Ian let him take his own time.

Finally, Karras said, “I am to share with you whatever you want, but only after you take the Oath of Allegiance.”

Ian reared back in his seat. “Seriously? An oath? Is there a secret handshake, too?”

Karras’s eyes cleared as if he had finally found his way back to territory where he felt comfortable. “No handshake,” he said. “Just an oath.”

“And to whom will I be pledging allegiance?”

“To the Patriots’ Army. To your brothers in arms.”

Something flipped in Ian’s stomach. “I’ve already pledged an oath,” he said. “To the United States of America. To protect it against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That’s why I started the Uprising, and that’s why I have chosen to stay.”

Karras shook his head. “That’s not good enough. Sooner than later, if you do your job correctly, this revolution will become real. Bullets will fly and people will die, and the people on the other side will have sworn the same oath you did, and will use those words to justify being our enemies.”

Ian considered the subtext, and then he understood. “The oath to the Patriots’ Army gives justification to punish those who might betray you. Us.”

“That’s it exactly,” Karras said. “And as you might guess, given the fragility of our operation here, there really is only one punishment option for those who betray us.”