Firepower, John Cutter [best summer reads .txt] 📗

training the remainder of his optical capacity fixedly on Vince. Hanson had an Uzi in his hands, pointed at the floor. To the right was Mac Colls, one hand on a holstered Glock.

Gustafson looked at Vince inquisitively; the others looked at him with open hostility.

“General,” Vince said, saluting as per requirement. He assumed a parade-rest stance.

Gustafson nodded and leaned back in his chair, tapping his desktop absently as he looked at Vince. “We’ve got a team out in the western property, looking for Deek Fisk.”

“Yeah, I saw him leave the trail. I figured he needed to pee or something. But…”

“But what?”

“He stopped in the trail and looked around, kinda with a disgusted look on his face, and said, ‘Fuck this!’ Then he dodged off into the brush.”

“And?”

“And I finished my run, sir.”

“You were the last runner, I believe?”

“Yes sir.”

“Marco didn’t see you come back in with the others.”

“I was there, sir. Marco was talking to someone and I followed the others up to wash for lunch.”

It was almost true. He’d gotten back in time to join the stragglers going back to Wolf Base.

Gustafson looked at Marco. “Could you have missed Bellator, when he finished the run?”

“It’s possible, sir,” Marco said.

“This is bullshit,” growled Colls. “He’s—"

Gustafson held up a hand for silence. “Vincent — you didn’t see fit to report that Fisk left the trail?”

“After a long time in the military, General, it is not my practice to snitch. I figured he had been out here a little too long and was headed off to town to get a drink. He was going in the General direction of the highway. He could be in Stonewall.”

“We have people asking in town,” Gustafson said. “We’ll see.”

“Maybe it’s time for some R and R time, in town, for these men,” Vince said, shrugging. “Send five guys out a day for a while…”

“You don’t get to make plans for this base,” Colls said.

“Yes, leave that sort of planning to me,” Gustafson said, nodding. “Did you see Deirdre Johansen out there, Vincent?”

“When I was on the trail? No sir. I saw her when she brought us some juice before the run.”

“That was the last time you saw her?”

“Yes sir. Is she alright? She’s not missing, too?”

“She’s just fine.” The General tapped his fingers some more and then said, “Okay, Vincent, hit the showers.”

Vince saluted and left the room — thinking, suppose the team searching for Deek Fisk found the body? They’d realized that she was in the woods at the same time that Deek had vanished. Put that together with the dead man, the hidden body. The snapped neck…

He had been the last man here to see Deek Fisk. Maybe they’d work it out. Meaning he needed to get his knife, keep it on him, and think about how to make a move if they came to “take him into custody”. Get the jump, bring the knife out, blade to the heart with one hand, take a gun with the other, open fire, head for the emplacements on the roof — burst out behind those guys, kill them, then head out along the ridge top…

A vague plan, and just one option.

But it seemed to him that Gustafson didn’t want to believe Vincent Bellator was responsible for the disappearance of Deek Fisk. Gustafson seemed to prize Vince. He had some plan for him. A particular use…

Which was… what?

CHAPTER SEVEN

They were out on the rifle range. Vince was sitting on a hay bale, Shaun Adler standing beside him, watching him use some very small gun tools to adjust the sights on the M4A1 carbine Shaun was practicing with. It had stopped raining but the ground was wet, giving out low streamers of mist, and clouds churned overhead. Eight men were lined up to their left, taking pops at man-shaped paper targets set up on bales against a grassy hillside. Vince, the best shot on the base, had been asked to help out with instruction. He had mixed feelings about it. He was teaching men to shoot better — men who might well shoot at him sometime.

“Vince?”

“Yeah, Shaun?”

“You know Bobby Destry?” Shaun asked.

“Never met him but his brother showed me his picture. Heard some about him from his mom.” He tightened a tiny screw on the rear sight. “You a friend of his?”

“Um…” Shaun glanced around to see who was listening. “Well — yeah. He’s in the brig here.”

“Yeah? What he do to end up there?”

Shaun sighed. “Depends how you look at it. He left; just wanted out. Wasn’t sure about the mission. Couldn’t commit.”

“Which mission?”

“Well — war. Race war. Taking back what’s ours.”

“What was his hurry? That war coming soon?”

“Rumor says soon. But you know — just rumors.”

Guns popped and banged and rattled up and down the line. Targets blew apart. And Vince thought, Soon? Does Agent Corlin know?

“So — what about Bobby Destry?”

“It’s just that… he could’ve got away clean, but he came back here to try to talk me into going with him. He said they were lying to us, that the videos, the lectures — some of it was lies. Maybe more than some. I was thinking about going with him but, you know, I got nothing else going on in my life. I was having a lot of trouble till this place straightened my ass out. I don’t want to end up like my brother, you know? And…” He licked his lips, and then spoke as if trying to convince himself. “…I’m sure of the mission. The Brethren mission. Right? And you — you’re sure of the mission, or you wouldn’t be here.”

He looked at Vince as if wondering how sure he was.

Vince said nothing.

Shaun cleared his throat and said, “So, I’m glad