Ben laughed at the man.
Dimly Ben could hear James Riverson's voice. "Let them alone," the sergeant major ordered. "The general's gotta do it his way."
"Why?" a Rebel questioned.
"Because he's Ben Raines, that's why,"
was James's reply.
Ben hammered at the man's stomach with hard fists, punishing the man. Blood from the outlaw's mouth sprayed Ben.
"Gimme a break," the thug panted.
"All right," Ben said, then broke the outlaw's neck with a hard karate chop.
The outlaw fell to the ground, dying. He looked up at Ben through confused eyes. He seemed to want to say something. But before he could, death took him. And that surprised Ben, for he had seen lots of people live a long time with a broken neck. Then he saw the pink froth leak from the outlaw's mouth. Either he had ruptured the man's stomach-which wasn't unlikely-or he had shattered a rib and the rib had punctured a lung. Or nicked the heart.
Ben took several deep breaths. "Report,"
he said.
"The outlaw camp is wiped out. We suffered two wounded. No dead," James reported. "How do you feel, General?"
Somewhere down the line, Ben had lost his black beret. He took out a cammie bandana and wiped the sweat from his face, then tied the bandana around his head, leaving the ends dangling. "Good," Ben said.
James smiled. "Now you look like Rambo, Ben."
"Who the hell is Rambo?" a Rebel asked.
Ben and his Rebels made a wide circle, at one point moving deep into Wyoming after the outlaws.
The Rebels found a half-dozen outlaw camps, destroying them, killing perhaps, in their two-week pursuit, an additional three hundred outlaws, not counting the several hundred killed in the botched ambush on the interstate.
They hammered straight across the center of what had once been known as Nevada. When they reached the base camp in Redding, Ben was met by a grim-faced Ike.
Ike brought Ben up to date. Quickly. "This goddamned Khamsin's grabbed Nina. Sent me a message, through Hartline. Hartline found it amusing."
"I just bet he did," Ben said. "Ike, can you push aside your emotions as the highly trained SEAL you are?"
Ike stiffened. "You know damn well I can, Ben." "You'll be doing what you were trained to do, years ago, Ike. Fighting a dirty little guerrilla war with the only supplies that you can carry with you."
"I know, Ben."
"And you know that Nina may be long dead?"
"I know."
"How many personnel you want?"
"Two platoons," Ike said quickly.
"You've thought this out carefully?"
"Many, many hours."
"All right, Ike. Call Base Camp One and get as many planes out here as you think you'll need to transport your people east. They'll leave immediately.
Either way it goes, Ike, stay out there. Start helping train resistance fighters and put the needle into Khamsin. We'll never be strong enough to take him head to head, so we're going to have to hit and run.
Might as well get used to it."
"Sam Hartline?"
"I'll take care of Sam Hartline. And I know just how I'll do it. I've given it much thought.
I know how to pull the arrogant son of a bitch out of his fortress."
Ike cocked his head to one side. "How, Ben?"
"We're going to have a funeral, ol'
buddy. With lots of weeping and wailing and moaning and slow walking and sad singing."
"A.
funeral!
Whose?"
Ben smiled. "Mine."
Chapter.
Thirty-three.
The transport planes roared in and settled down on the runways late the next day. The pilots slept for a few hours, then took off again in the dead of night, carrying Ike and his hand-picked teams.
Ben made himself comfortable inside his command post and stayed put. He ordered Dr. Chase and his people to start scurrying back and forth between the hospital and Ben's command post.
Cryptic messages began filling the air between the base camp and the outposts now manned by Rebels.
From Youreka to the rocky raging coast of California the message went out: THE EAGLE IS DOWN.
In Oregon, Sam Hartline studied the messages as they came in. He was not sure what they meant; and until he was certain, he was going to stay put.
"It could mean only one thing," one of his field commanders pointed out. "Ben Raines is down."
"But from what!"
Hartline questioned. "He and his people kicked the shit out of the outlaws. If he'd been wounded, we would have been informed, right?"
The commander shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But Ben Raines is down, Sam. Bet on it."
"You wanna bet your life on it?" Sam challenged.
The commander hesitated. "Yeah, Sam. I do.
The boys is gettin' restless. They got to have some action or they're gonna go stale."
Hartline expelled a long breath. "Yeah, I know. But you been with me a long time. You know how sneaky Raines can be. This could be a trap.
We'll wait a few more days. I want every intercepted message on my desk within minutes after decoding it, understood?"
"Right, Sam."
Sam Hartline leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the ceiling.
If Ben Raines was down, hard hit, and Ike McGowen gone back east, all that commanded the Rebels was that nigger, Cecil Jefferys. And Sam had never seen a spook that was as smart as a white man.
He sat for a long time with his thoughts. None of them very pleasant for anybody, especially Ben Raines.
Sam punched a button on his desk. An aide stuck his head into the door. Sam never used women for anything in his army. Except to fuck.
That's all they were good for.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want a fly-by," Sam said. "Four of them. Beginning at 0600 in the morning. Another at 0800, another at 1000, and the last one at 1600.".
"Yes, sir."
"Where's Lisa?"
"Out back, sitting by the pool. Guards are posted at all four corners."
"Good. I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me in a hour."
"Yes, sir."
Sam went into a bedroom and closed the door.
Guards were around the pool, at staggered intervals.
One of them sort of staggered as the knife blade entered between ribs, the long blade ramming into the heart. Young hands lowered the cooling carcass to a chair and set him in quietly. Young feet moved around the wall that encircled the pool, slipping to the next guard. Kim drove the blade of her dagger into the man's throat, the needle point pushing out the other side, dripping blood.
At the same instant, Judy's knife took out the third guard, and Sandra's dagger plunged deep into the back of the fourth man. Scooter and Mary and Larry helped lower the bodies to the concrete.
Lisa was already moving, on the run toward the friends she had thought she would never see again.
Rich chose that time to walk out to the pool area. The boy stood, his mouth open in shock.
Sandra's knife flashed end over end in the hotair of summer.
Rich uttered one word before the knife point hit him in the center of his chest.
"No!" the boy said.
He fell to the concrete "I wasn't gonna kill him,"
Sandra said. "We talked it over. But it's too late now. Come on, Lisa, let's get the hell outta here."
Rich could hear them talking through a mist of pain.
"There's something you oughta know," Kim said to Lisa.
Rich listened.
"Ben Raines is dying."
Chapter.
Thirty-four.
"Well, the little bastard was loyal to me after all," Hartline said. "You just by God never know."