"I'm leaving in the morning," Ben put an end to it.
Chapter Twenty-nine.
Ben started sending his unit out in the darkness ofnight. As quietly as possible, running without lights. He had ordered his Rebels to bandage various parts of their bodies; to limp and stagger as if badly hurt. To be helped into the waiting trucks.
He knew Hartline had long-range recon teams watching the base camp through long lenses. And he knew Khamsin's people were close-by, watching.
Maybe they would think the badly wounded were being trucked back to Base Camp One.
Maybe it would work long enough for Ben's unit to get close to the outlaws.
Maybe.
Ben and his personal team would be the last to pull out. Just moments before leaving, Ben walked to Sylvia's quarters.
She was sitting in a chair, as if expecting him.
The man and woman looked at each other in the sputtering light of a camp lantern.
"I cannot tolerate a traitor," Ben broke the silence.
"How long have you known?" she asked.
"I've suspected for some time."
"But you don't know or understand why I did it, do you, Ben?"
"No. I'd like to be able to say I'm not particularly interested. But I'd be lying."
"We had something good beginning, Ben."
"Using vernacular before you were born: You blew it, kid."
"It isn't too late, Ben."
"I could never trust you, Sylvia. Not ever again.
You see, kid, I knew someone like you years ago.
Back when the nation was whole. I fell hard for her.
The only difference being, ours was a purely Platonic relationship. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes."
"As a matter of fact, you look a lot like her.
You have many of her mannerisms. Perhaps that's why I felt something for you I haven't felt in a long, long time."
"You must have loved her a great deal, Ben."
Memories took Ben winging back over the years. She slipped into his mind, as she did from time to time. He had never spoken of her, not to anyone-ever. He had been about twenty years older than the girl-and even though she was in her twenties, she was still a girl. A girl in a woman's body.
And he loved her then, almost as strongly as he loved her now.
The tough ex-soldier and ex-soldier-of-fortune-turned-writer had fallen asshole over elbows in love.
If she had asked for the stars and the moon, Ben would have somehow gotten them for her.
Yet, so it seemed, to Ben, every time he turned around, she was crapping all over him.
Ben almost drank himself to death over a period of a few months ... until he slowly began wising up and realizing what the young woman really was.
Greedy, grasping, ungrateful, petty,petulant. A very pretty but shallow person.
And she had taken him like a schoolboy enduring the pain of first love.
And it still hurt.
Ben looked at Sylvia. "How much have you told Khamsin's people?"
"Troop strength. Placement. Plans for the future. Everything I knew."
"Why, Sylvia?"
"They have my father."
"How do you know it's him? I thought you told me he was dead?"
"He fits the description. It's him."
"Why didn't you just come to me and tell me?"
"I didn't think."
"That's right ..." He almost called her by another name. She didn't think either. Only of now. Never of the future.
Ben felt he was reliving the past.
"You've probably gotten some Rebels killed, Sylvia. Have you thought about that?"
"I don't care about that. It's my father."
"If he fell in with Khamsin, then he must be a sorry bastard."
She did not reply. But Ben saw her right hand move ever so slowly toward her right boot. She carried a knife there.
"You know what happens to traitors, Sylvia,"
he said softly.
"I love you, Ben."
"You're a liar."
Just like ... her.
"How do you know that? You can't be sure."
"I've been here before, kid. Unfortunately, I know your type very well."
"Asshole!" she hissed at him.
"We all have one."
"Aren't you afraid of dying, Ben Raines?" she asked him.
"Not particularly." He smiled. "But it always seems to come at such an inconvenient time.
Doesn't it, kid?"
She came up fast, the double-edged dagger in her right hand.
Ben shot her right between her flashing green eyes.
The .45 slug tore out the back of her head, lashing the wall behind her with fluid and gray matter and bits of bone. Sylvia slumped to the floor.
Ben walked out of the house just as Rebels came running.
Ike was the first to reach Ben. Ben cut sad eyes to his friend.
"Tell the underground people to destroy the IPA'S forward recon team, Ike."
"Okay, Ben. Jesus, Ben! What happened in there?"
"A twenty-year-old one-sided love affair just ended, Ike." "What?"
Ben walked away, the .45 in his hand. Ike noticed two things about his friend, as Ben walked into the velvet of night.
The man seemed to be a bit lonelier.
And Ben Raines was crying.
"What the hell's he up to, now?" Sam Hartline said, more to himself than to the other mercenaries gathered in Hartline's command post.
"Pullin' his wounded out, looks like."
"Maybe. But why didn't he fly them out?
That's what he usually does."
No one had an answer to that.
"Anyone spotted Raines today?" Hartline asked.
"Our guys had to pull back. Things were gettin'
too hot. The recon team from Khamsin bought it early this morning. Our guys got a little edgy and moved deeper into the timber."
Hartline nodded his handsome head. "Those weirdos that live in the caves?"
"Yeah."
Sam Hartline walked to a window and looked out.
"Raines is up to something. I just don't know what.
But what I don't want to do is butt heads with him just yet. We might be able to take him, but it would cost us. And Oregon just isn't worth it."
"You want me to contact Khamsin?" Sam was asked.
Hartline shook his head. "Not yet. Let's find out where that convoy went first. See if you can get ahold of those bikers. Ask them-no, tell them, to keep their heads up, stay alert. Raines is about to pull something. Sneaky son of a bitch."
"How's Rich?" a mercenary asked, a smile on his face.
Hartline laughed. "He has just about outlived his usefulness. Any of you guys want him?"
No one did.
"I hate to just shoot the little bastard. He gives great head," Hartline said. "And he's like a whipped dog. He'll do anything you tell him to do."
Hartline dismissed Rich with a curt wave of his hand.
"I'll keep him around until I get tired of fuckin' with him." Sam laughed. "I been tryin'
to get him to pork Lisa, but he won't do it."
Sam had left her alone for a couple of days, and some of the soreness had eased within her. Lisa had thought of and rejected a dozen plans of escape. Rich was always with her, watching, ready to tattle.
"You're a fool, Lisa!" Rich spat the words at her. "Why don't you be nice to Sam? He'd make it a lot easier on you if you'd just be nice to him."
"Like you're nice to him?" Lisa's words were scornful.