Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (29 page)

Sam sat down next to Alex at the bar. Jasper brought him his designated Bud and an extra large bowl of peanuts. Then he picked up a towel and started drying glasses.

“You must be trying to corner the market on peanuts.” Alex took a sip of her beer and grabbed a few.

“Love your earrings. How many?”

“Four.”

“How long did it take to get your ear pierced?”

“About an hour. Like it?”

Sam nodded. “Gonna get the other one done?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

After a second beer, they moved to a table in the corner. The men hunched over the bar. Out of the corner of their eyes, they watched Alex walk without ever moving their heads. She was fresh meat, and they liked the cut.

“Bob and I met with the security outfit.”

Sam nodded.

“He told them the CIA had received intelligence that a group of terrorists could be targeting nuclear storage facilities in the northeast. Bob emphasized that the information was general, not specific to any site. He just wanted them to be aware so they could increase security precautions if necessary.”

“And?”

“Of course, the damn security guys wanted exact details and timing.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Bob emphasized that’s all the information he had. He promised to let them know right away when he got more information and asked them to do likewise.”

“I’m worried this’ll point back to me.”

She shook her head. “Ever since the World Trade Center attack and the bombings of the embassies and the Cole, the CIA has released intelligence summaries based on information from our satellites and on increased chatter over the Internet. Bob was very general in his threat assessment. Besides, Oliver won’t even know about the briefing.”

“I still don’t like it.”

The door swung open with a resounding thud against the wall. Buster swaggered into the bar.

Sam moved in his chair. “Uh oh.” Alex leaned closer to Sam. “What’s wrong?” “Don’t look now, but my star pupil just walked in.” Buster sauntered up to the bar like he owned the place and ordered a beer with a whisky chaser. He patted a couple of the regulars on the shoulder, then chugged the beer and drained the whisky. Brushing his hand over his mouth, he called out, “Give me another one.”

He turned. “Well, goddamn! It’s my teacher. And he’s with a broad. Ain’t that swell?” Buster downed part of the second beer and swaggered over, the bottle hanging from his right hand. His companion, a burly man Sam didn’t know, pulled on Buster’s arm. Buster shrugged him off.

“Who’s the broad?”

Sam tensed. “Go back to the bar, Buster.” “What if I don’t feel like it?” Buster nudged Alex on the shoulder. “Did you hear that I got a new rifle for my wife?” He paused while Alex sat at the table looking straight ahead. “Best trade I ever made.” Buster threw his head back and laughed. “Get it?”

“Goddamn it, Buster, leave the lady alone.” “What if I don’t feel like it?” He stood next to Alex and looked down at her. “Pretty face and nice tits. What the hell you doing with this creep?”

Sam stood and clenched his fists. “That’s enough, Buster. You’re acting like an ass. Now get the hell out of here.”

Alex looked up. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Sam, or whatever your name is? I take care of myself. If I don’t want to hang out with this bushy sack of shit, I’ll handle it.” She eyed Buster. “Now you, butt out.”

“Goddamn,” Buster laughed, “a broad with spunk. I like that.”

Alex leaned forward and took a sip of her beer.

Buster put his hand on her shoulder. “Wanta dance, baby?” He called to his buddy. “Put on a slow number. This broad wants to dance with me.”

Alex reached up to move his hand. “I don’t want to dance with you now. I don’t want to dance with you ever. Now take your fucking hand off my shoulder.”

“That’s not nice.” Buster started rubbing her back. “I love your Harley jacket. I’ll go home and get mine; then you and me can be twins. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

Alex looked back at the table and whispered, “Take your hand off my back before I run over your ass with my truck.”

Buster kept rubbing her back. “Who’s gonna make me? Sure as hell ain’t gonna be your boyfriend.”

In a move so fast Sam barely followed it, Alex swept her left arm upward and the edge of her flat palm connected with Buster’s Adam’s apple. Buster let out a gasp and grabbed his throat, struggling for air.

She swung her chair off to one side, launched up, and placed a sidekick into Buster’s groin. He bent over and grabbed his crotch with one hand while still gasping for air and holding his throat with the other. Alex brought her hands down on the back of his neck, pushing his face into her waiting knee. This was followed by a crunching sound that everyone throughout the bar could hear.

Alex finished with another sidekick to his shoulder with her left foot.

Buster flew backward, ending up on the floor by the bar, moaning.

Alex looked down at the hairy mass on the floor. “Maybe next time you’ll take your hand off a lady’s shoulder when she asks.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jasper stood behind the bar, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.”

Buster’s buddy reached down to help Buster to his feet, all the time keeping his eyes on Alex.

Buster swung the arm away and pushed himself up from the floor, blood streaming from his nose. “You two ain’t heard the last of this.” He held his left arm up to his face, turned, and stumbled out of the bar, muttering. “Goddamn broad.”

Jasper ran over to where Alex stood, an open Bud in his right hand. He placed it on the table. “Jesus Christ.” He got partway back to the bar, then turned. “You ever consider trying out for the Eagles?”

“Don’t think I could pass the physical.” Alex dusted off her hands. “I hate blowhard fuckers.”

Sam raised his bottle to his lips. He dropped it back to the table without drinking any beer. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“No Shit. Now where were we before we got interrupted?”

Q
uentin Oliver stood, grabbed another log, and placed it on the fire. Behind him, sitting on the couch, Sean Kaminsky belched softly.

God, what a slob,
Oliver thought, diverting his focus to the fireplace. He loved the smell of smoke. It reminded him of his youth in Vermont, and of his mother. She had been so beautiful and cultured. Not like his father. Oliver had only been ten when she’d died. He never did believe his father, who told him her fall had been an accident …

Oliver stoked the fire, then turned back toward Kaminsky. “I’ve heard that the CIA is concerned about terrorists breaking into a secure facility and stealing material to make a dirty bomb.”

Kaminsky giggled. “Sounds like a real concern to me.”

Oliver couldn’t believe how stupid this bozo was. “Think about it. Isn’t it a coincidence that we’re about ready to launch an attack when the CIA alerts security groups of the possibility?”

Kaminsky’s eyes got big. “Do you think we have a leak?”

“I don’t know. We need to be more cautious.”

“Your soldiers already fear what you will do if they leak information.”

Oliver walked over to the bar. “They know they will die and their families will suffer. I can’t believe anyone would cross me.” He circled the room, adjusting pictures that were tilted off center. “We haven’t restricted the movement of our soldiers. They’re free to come and go as they please.”

Kaminsky stared into the fire. “I see.” “Now that our goal is so close, it’s time to restrict movement. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Do you have anyone particular in mind?”

“I never have liked that little twit Pearson. His uncle used to work for me. I agreed to take the kid on and try to build him into a man.”

“Anyone else?” Kaminsky asked. “How about Thorpe, for example?”

Oliver chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Why him?”

“I don’t know. I watched him closely during the drive down from Canada. He seems like too much of a good guy. Didn’t he work for an anti-terrorist task force before he retired? Maybe he’s still committed to bringing us down.”

“Aly has sworn to Thorpe’s dedication.”

“No skin off Aly’s butt if we get caught. He could say that he didn’t know what we were up to.”

Oliver sat in his leather chair and stroked his goatee. “We may need to take care of Thorpe sooner rather than later.” He smiled. “Sergeant Bacher told me about the altercation between Buster Tyson and Thorpe’s friend?”

Kaminsky laughed. “She beat the shit out of him.”

“I wonder if there’s a role for her in our organization. Someone who can use muscle like that … and disguise it under what I hear is a great body.”

“How does Thorpe know her?” Kaminsky asked.

“He’s due soon. We can ask him.”

What Oliver had been planning was at hand. He couldn’t afford any mistakes now. Thorpe was the key to their success. He had a way with the men—had taught them what they would need during the mission. But could he be trusted during the operation itself?

Oliver and Marcel had agreed that Marcel’s army would be given three of the weapons Kaminsky built to use against the Canadian government. The New Kingdom would spread rapidly. First the United States, then Canada. At last, whites would assume their rightful position again as it had been ordained. And he would be at the head.

Kaminsky thought he’d be taking the weapons back to Canada, but he’d never see Canada again. Oliver figured it was time for Marcel to arrive. He would be another experienced soldier to help out, particularly if it became necessary to do something about Thorpe.

Yes, he needed to meet this friend of Thorpe’s. Invite her for dinner. Get both of them on videotape. Then double-check their pictures with some of his friends. If he had a problem, he needed to find out now.

Sam Thorpe knocked on the door to Quentin Oliver’s study. He double-checked the key lock above the doorknob. It looked the same as the one on his door, so his pass should work.

“Come in, Sam.”

When Sam opened the door, Oliver’s cigar smoke seeped into his lungs. Freaking guy lived on those things.

He glanced around the room. Everything seemed the same as it had the last time he’d been there. “You asked me to stop by.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair, holding the smoldering cigar in his left hand and swirling the ice cubes in his glass with his right. The clinking of the cubes seemed to match the rhythm of Sam’s heartbeat.

Kaminsky stood in his normal position at the bar, pouring himself a drink. Did all their drinking make them vulnerable to a mistake?

Kaminsky glanced over at Sam. “Can I get you a drink?”

Sam shook his head and sat in one of the black overstuffed chairs.

Oliver took another puff on his cigar and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “I’m ready to move. Are the men?”

“Ready as they’ll ever be. Where’s the mission site?”

“No need for you to concern yourself with the exact location. The point is whether or not the men are trained to take an objective.”

Oliver seemed concerned about something. “Ah, tell me a little about your friend. You know, the one who took a dislike to Mr. Tyson.”

Sam smiled. “She’s a tough lady. I actually don’t know much about her. She grew up in Minnesota, like me, but later moved out west, somewhere in Montana, I think. She’s back here in Pennsylvania to care for her sick mother. Guess whatever her mother has is serious. Why?”

“She handles herself very well.”

Sam chuckled. “Buster made an ass of himself… paid a price for it. Frankly, I had no idea she could do that. I was about to pop Buster myself when she knocked him flat.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in working with us?”

Sam maintained his poker face. “I don’t know. She’s pretty busy with her mother right now.” He looked into the fire for a moment. “I’ll ask her when I see her again.”

“If she handles a weapon as well as she handles her fists, she’d be tough.”

Sam waited.

“Does she have any military experience?”

Sam shook his head. “Haven’t a clue.”

“Would you invite her for dinner? I want to meet her.”

“When?”

Oliver stood and walked over to the fireplace to put on another log. “The sooner the better.”

“I’ll see if I can catch up with her.” Sam ran alternatives through in his mind. What was Oliver’s agenda? Was he suspicious?

“I’ll call and invite her myself?”

Sam shook his head. “Let me do it.”