Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (12 page)

"Good," Joe said.  "Now you know we're serious.  I've got some questions for you....and for your sake, I sure hope you have the answers..."

Ch. 25

The Beaten Path

Eric turned the pickup onto a gravel road that wound through a thick stand of old growth trees.  On the right side of the dirt path, the gray and sagging remnants of a barn were barely visible beneath a shroud of honeysuckle and kudzu vines in the gray pre-dawn light.  Briars and weeds grew right up to the edge of the faded road, and decades of hard rain and poor maintenance made for a rough ride.  Bill winced and groaned at every bump and jar, but he never said a word.  Imogene sat between them, rubbing Bill's shoulder tenderly and looking worried.  Christina and Mike in the back didn't fare much better, but they managed to stay in the truck despite the bouncing and shaking.

Eric drove almost to the dead-end of the road and pulled the truck around behind the crumbling ruins of a once massive farmhouse.  Three sentry oaks stood in the overgrown wilderness that had once been a yard and they cast deep shadows over the truck and what was left of the house.  The second story at some point in the distant past had collapsed, but the first floor had somehow absorbed the impact.  The result was a kind of one and a half story tall jumble of old timbers, broken windows, and rusted tin roofing. 

"How did you ever find this place?" Bill asked, looking around and shaking his head.  "It's like something I'd have see out in Bargersville, Texas growing up.  Never woulda guessed you had humps like this in a big city."

Eric smiled.  "When I was a kid, I had a cousin that grew up in this area," he replied.  "Back then it wasn't all track houses and strip malls.  This was country roads, fields, and places like this.  I'd spend a few weeks every summer around here with my cousins, and we found this place on one afternoon looking for places to fish.  There was a little old lady lived here then, and she let us fish in the pond on the back edge of the woods if we'd keep her yard raked for her."

"What happened to the little old lady?" Imogene asked, looking out the window at the collapsing house."Not sure," Eric replied.  "My cousin moved away when I was eleven, and I didn't move to this area for fifteen years.  I came here just to see if this place was still here the summer I moved to Charlotte and found it like this."

Mike and Christina had climbed down out of the bed of the truck and were stretching their legs.  Eric got out of the cab and joined them as Mike helped Bill and Imogene out of the other side.  Eric walked around the yard a bit and peered into the windows of the house with his flashlight, checking for any squatters.  There was some new graffiti on the walls and a few empty beer bottles; calling cards for local teenagers, no doubt.  Other than that, though, the house was clear.

Satisfied, Eric hopped down from the porch and joined the rest of the group.  Imogene was carefully cleaning out Bill's shoulder wound and he was trying not to let the pain show.  Mike sat in the leaf litter with his back against the truck and his eyes closed and Christina was idly picking at a broad oak leaf.  Every set of eyes turned to Eric, though, and they looked at him expectantly.

Eric cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable being the center and focus of so much attention.  "Okay," he said at last, "I think we're out of the way enough here that no one will accidently stumble on us.  From right here, we're about a mile and a half, maybe two miles from my house as the crow flies.  If I stick to the woods, I think I can make it there and back before sundown."

"You're not going alone, are you?" Christina asked.

"Well, I was hoping not to," Eric said, casting a meaningful glance at Mike.

When the silence stretched, Mike looked up from his seat on the ground and shrugged.  "I'll go wherever you need me to," he said dejectedly.

Eric nodded.  "We can go through the woods and stay off the roads as much as possible.  It'll be tough, and it'll slow us down, but I don't want to risk getting spotted or running into people at this point."

"What's so important that you need to get, son?" Bill asked.

"I've got food," Eric said.  "Long-term storage food supplies.  My dad got it for me for Christmas a few years back.  I asked for a flagship laptop for gaming and I got twenty five hundred bucks worth of freeze-dried food instead.  I thought it was the lamest present ever, but he told me to stick it in the back of a closet in case something bad happened one day.  I never could get him to talk about what he thought might happen where I'd need a six month supply of freeze-dried food.  Anyway, I've got a few guns there too, and some ammo.  I think we're going to need as much of that as we can get our hands on.  There's some other stuff too, odds and ends mostly, but the food alone is enough."

Bill nodded.  "Okay, son, I see your point.  You're right, we need something more substantial than beef jerky and granola, and I don't think stopping by the local Piggly Wiggly is gonna get it at this point.  More likely that would turn into the O.K.  Corral or something."

"I want to go with you," Christina interrupted, tears gathering in her eyes.

Eric took both of her hands in his.  "Listen, Tina," he said softly, "this isn't going to just be a walk in the woods.  We've got to move fast and quiet, and we might run into trouble.  I couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt or something on the way.  I'll be back before you know it, okay?"

After a long moment, Christina finally nodded.  Mike stood and dusted himself off before digging through the back of the truck.  He hesitated then pulled out a bundle and thrust it towards Eric.

"Here," Mike said gruffly.  "It used to be Claire's.  She wasn't a small woman, and you're not a huge guy, so maybe it'll fit you."

Mike walked off, and Eric unrolled the flannel shirt that wrapped the bundle.  Inside was a belt of thick, highly polished leather that held a holstered Beretta 9mm pistol, a leather pouch for two extra magazines, a heavy metal flashlight, and a collapsible tactical baton.  There was a detachable leather case with a shiny pair of handcuffs, complete with keys and a small leather pouch for a can of mace as well. 

Eric swallowed back a lump in his throat as he buckled the belt around his waist.  It was a little tight, but not uncomfortably so.  Eric tested the draw on the pistol and found it easy and smooth.  Satisfied with the balance and the weight of the rig, Eric gave Christine a long hug and kiss.  Before he could stop her, Imogene wrapped him up in a tight, grandmotherly embrace, and she patted his back as if she were trying to burp him.  He waved to the two women and turned to go.  As he walked down the driveway to where Mike stood, Bill followed with him.  The three walked fifty yards or so down the road in silence; then Bill stopped and faced Mike and Eric with a serious frown on his face.

"Listen, fellas," he said softly, "you watch yourselves out there.  Don't trust anyone you don't know, and don't let your guard down for a second.  People are going to be scared and getting desperate by now."  Bill reached up and rubbed his freshly bandaged left shoulder.  "And we saw yesterday what can happen when someone gets scared and desperate."

Eric and Mike nodded and the silence stretched for a moment before Eric finally said, "Listen, Bill, if we don't make it back by sundown, you need to take the women and go.  Head south from here to Fort Mill, then head east.  I saw your roadmap in the truck, and it's pretty detailed.  Follow the back roads north from Wadesboro and head for Bennett, NC.  I've got family there, and the people are good.  They should help you guys."

Bill shook his head.  "We'll be here when you get back," he said simply with a firm nod. 

Before anyone could say another word, Bill turned and walked back to the truck.

Ch. 26

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Joe leaned forward slowly, carefully, keeping eye contact with the man on the couch the entire time.  Neither of them blinked, but the man's eyes widened a little, and the air started coming in and out faster and harder through his nose.  His jaw clenched just a little before he caught himself and forced it to relax again.  Joe carefully kept even the slightest hint of a smile from his lips; the man was cracking.

"Look," Joe said quietly, almost soothingly, "I don't know what you've heard about us, okay? I don't really care.  The truth is I have to hurt people sometimes for my job.  I don't like it, but there it is.  You do that too, don't you?"

The man just stared hard at Joe for a long moment, the silence between them broken only by the sound of his breathing. 

Finally, Joe sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  He looked up at Chris and shrugged slightly.  "Okay, I guess he doesn't want to play ball.  We'll see if the next one will."

Chris came around to the front of the couch, his Beretta in hand.  He made a show of attaching the suppressor back to the barrel, and leveled it at the man's forehead.

"You see," Joe said conversationally, "normally we'd use some of those enhanced interrogation tactics you've heard so much about, and we'd draw the truth out of you the same way they draw sap out of a maple tree...  one drop at a time."  Joe shrugged again.  "But we just don't have time for that right now.  So, here's the deal.  You either start talking now, or my friend Mr.  Boltzmann here is going to repaint his living room in a few days.  We'll tell your boys you didn't talk, and then shove your body out the door and ask for the next volunteer.  Either someone will step up, or we'll take them out while they're trying to figure out what to do next...." Joe paused for a long breath.  "Or you can start talking and save us the trouble."

The man was starting to sweat now.  A thin, shiny sheen of it coated his forehead and down the side of his nose.  He glanced up at Chris and the Beretta in his hand and then looked like he wished he hadn't.  Joe sat slowly forward on the coffee table once more until the man's eyes were on a level with his. 

With the thumb of his right hand, he hooked a throng of leather out from under his shirt.  On the necklace was a row of bottle caps, each pierced through the center with a single bullet hole.  The caps at one end were so worn that there was no paint left on them, and the corners were dented and dull.  At the opposite end, some of the caps had paint, though scratched and faded. 

"Yeah, sometimes I have to really hurt people for my job," Joe said softly.  "What do you think each one of these stands for? I don't know their names, but they're here.  I've already got to add two to this thing for tonight.  Do you really want to make it three?"

The man swallowed hard and dropped his eyes.

"My," the man paused to swallow again.  "My name is Charles Ganfield.  Tactical Team Leader, Second Team, Confidential Services Division."

"What, is that some kind of rank? What country are you with?" Joe asked, his voice intense.

Charles Ganfield snorted a short chuckle.  "You really don't get it, man," he said, shaking his head.  "Yours.  Your government hired me."

"Bullshit," Joe said flatly, sitting back.  "Chris, this guys screwing with us.  Time for contestant number two."

Chris placed the barrel of the 9mm against Charles' temple and pushed ever so slightly. 

"Wait! WAIT!" Charles called out, flinching hard.

"I'm listening," Joe said patiently, and Chris lifted the gun just a little.

"September 10th," Charles stammered.  "September 10th, 2001.  Department of Defense announced they couldn't track $2.3 trillion in transactions.  No one remembers it because the next day, everything happened, but on September 10th, they laid it all out in the open for people in the right positions, who know what to watch and listen for.  I mean, think about it man, 2.3 trillion dollars worth of transactions just up in smoke.  What could you build....what could you buy with that kind of money?"

"What are you, X-Defense, Hart, Blackwater?" Joe asked, and Charles started shaking his head.

"You're acting like they're different groups," Charles said.  "We're all one big, happy, no compete family.  We get our paychecks from the same place, my friend....and they're stamped United States Congress."

Joe cut his eyes at Chris, who gave a very slight shrug.  In his experience when a detainee started off on an avalanche, the resulting information was good nine times out of ten.  Joe looked carefully at Charles Ganfield's face and watched his eyes as he spoke.  There wasn't the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his eyes either.  Whatever else might be said, he believed what he was saying down to his toes. 

That didn't make it true, it just meant he didn't know it if it wasn't. 

"So what is this, some kind of coup?" Joe asked once Charles had run down a bit.

Charles snorted.  "You think they tell me? All I know is my orders came from the Tactical Operations Director himself.  They told me to..."

Joe waited, and when Charles didn't continue, Joe leaned forward slightly  "Told you to what?" he asked, his tone steely.

Charles shook his head.  "Can't disclose tactical directives.  That's a violation of the confidentiality statement.  I've already said way too much, man.  You don't know these people.  If they find out I talked, you don't know what they'll do."

Joe pulled one of his short, fixed-blade tactical knives and held it with the point just in front of Charles' eyes.  "What do you think I'll do if you don't?" he asked softly.

Charles still shook his head.  "Doesn't matter.  You kill me, they kill me....  doesn't matter, man.  Dead's dead.  You're on borrowed time, anyway, you just don't know it."

Charles closed his mouth so hard his teeth clicked.  Joe sighed and took the roll of duct tape Chris handed him.  Charles had just enough time to register what was about to happen, but Joe moved too quickly for him to do anything about it.  Joe wrapped the duct-tape tightly around Charles' mouth several times, and then did the same around his eyes to make an adhesive blindfold.  Just to be on the safe side, he even wrapped the zip-ties securing Charles' wrists.

Satisfied, Joe put the hood back on Charles and stood him up.  Joe nodded to Chris, who slipped out the back and around the right flank of the house.  Joe turned the knob on the door and opened it just a crack.  He heard boot steps on the stairs as two of the guards outside came to investigate.  When one pushed the door open with his support hand, Joe shoved Charles roughly at the two men.  He stumbled and fell into them, carrying one to the ground.  The other stood stunned for just a moment, and Joe stepped up to press the barrel of his 9mm against the man's temple.