Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (30 page)

“Alex, Sam.”

“Sam?”

“Sam Thorpe. We spent time together at the pub in Thompsontown.”

“Oh, Sam. Right.”

“I mentioned that I was working with a group not too far from town. The boss heard about your fight with Buster Tyson. He’d like to meet you.”

“You mean where I flattened his fat ass.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, something like that. Are you interested?”

“I have to take care of Momma first … then I might be. What’s in it for me?”

“I honestly don’t know. You’ll have to come and find out.”

There was silence on the phone. Sam waited.

“I guess I could come over for an evening. When?”

“Is tonight too soon?”

“No, that would be okay. I’ll need to set up Momma first.”

“I’ll pick you up at the pub at seven o’clock. Is that too early?”

“See you then.”

Sam disconnected the cell phone. He leaned back at his desk. Things were moving. What was he missing?

The snow had fallen earlier that afternoon—about an inch covered the roads when Sam pulled off Route 322 and drove toward the bar.

Alex stood next to her Chevy truck. She rapped on his window and stuck her head in when Sam rolled the window down. “Let’s take my truck. I’d like you to ride with me to show me the way and I can give you a ride back so we can talk.”

“Your call,” Sam replied.

After they got rolling, Alex shifted the pickup into third gear. “I didn’t know if they’d bugged your car or not.”

Sam nodded.

“What does Oliver want?”

“He heard about you and Buster. Oliver asked me if you had any military experience. My guess is he’s interested in having a female on the team. A bunch of guys draw more attention.”

“Kinda like they wanted Jackie.”

Sam nodded.

She pumped her brakes, slowing the truck slightly on the icy road. “Senator McCarthy called General Gerber.”

Sam turned his head toward the window. He could see her reflection looking at him.

“He wants you relieved and charges brought against you for endangering the life of his daughter.” She reached down and turned up the defroster. “Sorry, Sam, I know this is a bitch for you.”

“I’ve had about enough of McCarthy.”

“Gerber told McCarthy that you were on a classified assignment and that he wasn’t able to share any more. Told him all of the team felt bad about what happened. But, he added that Jackie knew the risks, and as a team member, willing to assume those risks.”

“How’s she doing?”

“I talked to her yesterday. She’s getting a bad case of claustrophobia from being stuck inside our safe house, but she’s taking it like a trooper.”

Sam didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about the senator but push him to the back of his mind.

“Which way?”

Alex’s voice snapped Sam back to the present. She had stopped at an intersection.

Sam looked around for a moment to get his bearings. “Left.”

Alex slipped the gearshift into four-wheel drive, the vehicle slipping slightly as she turned onto Route 35.

“How much farther?”

“About a mile before you turn right into the lane. Follow it up to the barn on the left.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam. Wish there was something I could do.”

S
ergeant Bacher opened the door to Oliver’s study. Dressed in a black version of the Army green uniform decorated with ribbons Sam didn’t recognize, Bacher stepped back and froze at attention.

The conference table had been set with a white tablecloth, sterling silver, and china dishes. It reminded Sam of the general’s mess at Fort Steward that he’d been able to crash periodically as a guest of General Gerber.

The fingerprint scanner Sam would be trying to get past later that evening seemed to leer at him from the corner of the room. Sam calculated about twenty feet from the study door to the scanner—no furniture in between to trip over in the dark.

Quentin Oliver stood at the head of the table, arms on the back of his chair, resplendent in his black dress uniform with a red sash across his chest, and the one-star insignia displayed prominently on his shoulders.

“Holy shit.” Alex stepped back. One hand reached up to touch her tousled hair, the other patted down her worn jeans. She slugged Sam in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? I shoulda dressed for dinner.”

“I didn’t know.” He looked down at his jeans. “Look at me.”

She turned, brushed past Sergeant Bacher, and pulled on the doorknob. “I’m outta here.”

Oliver called after her. “It’s all right, my dear. I wanted to welcome you in style. Please come back.”

Alex turned.

He stepped around the table to shake her hand. “Quentin Oliver. I’m terribly sorry. I should have provided a dress code to preclude any confusion.”

Alex hesitated, then took Oliver’s extended hand. “Alex Prescott.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, and thanks to Sam for finding a lovely lady like yourself in the wilds of central Pennsylvania.”

Alex didn’t reply.

“May I offer you a drink?”

“Scotch on the rocks.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart. How about you, Sam?”

“I’ll take a beer, please.”

Sergeant Bacher walked over to the bar and poured a scotch for Alex, then reached down and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator for Sam. He glanced back toward Sam. “Glass, sir?”

Sam nodded.

“Please be seated.” Oliver pulled out a chair for Alex and pointed to a chair across the table for Sam.

The door opened, and Kaminsky walked in. Even in a sport coat and tie, he looked like a walrus on a pile of rocks by the shore.

Oliver motioned with his arm toward Kaminsky. “This is my associate, Professor Sean Kaminsky.”

Kaminsky bent over, took Alex’s hand, and kissed it.

Alex’s face stayed a mask, but Sam suspected it was all she could do to not bust out laughing or, more likely, to pop Kaminsky in the nose.

Oliver motioned for all of them to sit; then he held up his glass. “To the New Kingdom.”

Sam and Alex held their glasses in the air and drank. Kaminsky did likewise.

Sam felt as if he were part of an orchestrated ballet.

“We’ll be dining on roast duck with wild rice and mixed vegetables,” Oliver said. “I trust that meets everyone’s expectations.”

Sam and Alex nodded.

“Benson,” Oliver called.

The young man Sam had seen cooking the omelets opened the door and came into the room. Dressed in a white coat and black pants, he had on wraparound sunglasses. Sam could see that his nose was red and swollen. A bruise crept down his left cheek.

He refused to look at Sam, keeping his eyes on the tray of clam dip and crackers he offered to Alex.

Sam suspected he knew what had happened to Benson’s nose, but why? Why had he jumped Sam? And who else had been with him? Rose?

“I understand you are from Minnesota, my dear.”

“Yes.”

Sam glanced over toward the door to Oliver’s private room. How long would it take him to get inside? He’d have about an hour.

“What caused you to leave Minnesota?” Oliver asked.

Sam’s attention moved back to the conversation.

“I’d rather not go into that.” Alex sipped her scotch. “Call it poor decision making.”

“I understand.”

“Benson, you may serve dinner.”

Benson walked over to a glass and gold serving cart pushed up against the wall and plucked a salad off a tray for each of them, all the time keeping his face turned away from Sam. He poured white wine and began serving the duck and wild rice from silver serving dishes next to the table.

Sam memorized the placement of furniture and the exact location of the scanner. There was no desk in this room, so all the valuable information must be in the secure room.

Throughout dinner, they made small talk. After finishing, Oliver pulled out his cigar and ordered brandy all around. “I understand you can handle yourself well in an altercation.”

Alex sipped her brandy. “Guess I do okay when I need to.”

“Where did you learn that skill, my dear?” Oliver asked.

“Girl’s got to be able to take care of herself.”

Oliver patted his mouth with his napkin. “I’m sorry to hear that your mother is sick.”

“Where did you hear about my mother?”

“I mentioned it,” Sam replied.

Alex nodded.

“Do you expect to be in the area long?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t have any other pressing plans at the moment.”

Benson walked over to Oliver with the brandy. “More brandy, sir?”

“Please.” Oliver motioned with his hands and Benson moved around to fill all the glasses.

“Did Sam tell you about our group?”

Alex shook her head.

“How do you feel about our government?”

She took another sip of brandy. “Never thought much about it.”

Oliver straightened in his chair. “We believe our job is to be prepared to save our fellow citizens from the shadow elements that have taken over the government.”

“What do you mean?” Alex squinted up her face.

“Throughout my career in the Marines, I’ve seen examples time and time again of how the government machine tromps on the rights of the common person. We have exported all of our good jobs to other countries, so the local farmers who have been pushed off their land by the big corporate farms can’t find work to support their families. The white man has been shuffled off to one side. The Jews and other minorities are in charge. It is my calling to lead a movement so that whites can once again assume their rightful place of leadership. A new day is coming, and I want you to be a part of it.”

Alex didn’t reply.

“You don’t say much, do you?”

She smiled at him. “I’d like to think about what you’ve said.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Alex stood and brushed off her jeans. “Now it’s time for me to leave. I appreciate your hospitality and thank you so much for a pleasant evening.”

Quentin Oliver stood and moved around the table to shake her hand. “Please let me know if you’d be interested in joining our movement. You’d be a distinct asset.”

She reached out and took his hand. “I’ll give your offer some thought. Maybe we can talk more later.”

Sam stood and moved toward the door. “I’ll walk you out to your truck.”

“What the fuck? Don’t you think I can find it myself?” She walked out and slammed the door, leaving Sam standing there with his mouth hanging open.

“An interesting woman.” Quentin Oliver swirled the brandy in his glass and stared into the fire.

Kaminsky started coughing up phlegm and had to spit into his handkerchief. “What would you do with her?”

“The possibilities are endless. She’s smart, quick thinking, and an experienced fighter. From what I heard, the way she took down Buster reminds me of one of the best karate experts I knew in the Marines.”

Kaminsky wore a sneer on his face. “Plus, she’s got big knockers.”

“She is attractive. That’s true. I wonder how far Thorpe has gotten with her …” Oliver had become lonely in his command. At first he’d thought his wife would be his partner in his new kingdom, but she had become disillusioned. She’d had the nerve to tell him he was crazy! He’d been forced to get rid of her. But this Alex—now she was different. She could be his queen. The two could rule together.

“Did I hear that Marcel is driving down from Montreal?” Kaminsky jarred Oliver from his thoughts.

“Initially I was against his crossing into the United States prior to the mission,” Oliver replied. “I’m sure he’s on the Canadian watch list. I didn’t want to do anything to alert the authorities. But the more I thought about it, I realized he could be of assistance. Plus, Aly wants him here. Apparently his company is looking to increase its presence in Canada and wants Marcel to be more actively involved in our operation.”

Kaminsky’s eyes lit up. “Is Elizabeth coming down? I miss her.”

“This isn’t a party, Sidney … ah, Sean.”

Kaminsky’s face fell, and he looked down at the floor.

“Marcel asked me about the skinheads since he knows there’s a good-sized group here in central Pennsylvania. I’m working on setting up a cooperative arrangement with them. They have a number of interesting ideas we can perhaps use to support our attacks. Popeye has been meeting with them.”