CHAPTER 24

JAN AND GINNY SAT on the porch at the ranch, Jan mulling over his earlier conversation with Monster, Olson, and Hoyt Akers.  Three bright-faced sunflower plants swayed waist high.  The sun was just going down and the moon, now waxing toward full was already high in the eastern sky.  In the river bottom, deer unfolded from afternoon naps in the heavy brush and contemplated the meadow at the south end of the ranch.

Ice cubes frosted two glasses of Coke on the overturned half-barrel that served as a table on the porch.  Ginny, wearing a long print dress and white sandals, lay against the chair back with her eyes closed.  Her hair was pulled back, highlighting her high cheekbones, and she was smiling.

Jan had convinced Monster to let them spend the evening at the ranch instead of at Ginny’s house.  Monster insisted that he accompany them to the ranch, inspect the grounds, and then exit while Jan set the perimeter security.  Monster was full of misgivings, but Jan told him he was going to spend the 4th of July at the ranch with or without his cooperation.  Monster only agreed when Jan condescended to let Monster accompany them to and from the place.  He would return at midnight to escort Ginny and Jan back to her home.  No way was he going to allow them to be outside the security of Ginny’s safe house in the wee hours when Hansen normally sent his goons on secret missions.

“It really is a great way to spend an evening, isn’t it?” Jan said.

“She opened her eyes, looked at him, and said, “It’s the best, my friend.  I haven’t felt this—well, this comfortable in years.”

“I feel peaceful.”

“Yes.”

“You sure you don’t mind missing the fireworks in town?” 

“Not at all.  You couldn’t dynamite me out of here tonight.”

***

Prophet Hansen closed the door to his bedroom as he stepped out onto the porch.  Maggie Balsom was asleep in the big bed.  Hansen walked to the north end of the compound to the heliport.  The sun was fully down now at 10:00 p.m.  Only a slight hint of twilight remained.

The rotor blades turned slowly on the Sikorsky.  Bill Campbell was loading plastic milk jugs filled with gasoline into the helicopter as Hoyt Akers checked gauges in the cockpit.  Campbell turned a deaf ear to Akers’ repeated questions concerning tonight’s operation.  “You’ll know after we are in the air,” Campbell had said.

Hansen approached the chopper.  “Those are probably the biggest Molotov Cocktails anybody ever constructed.”

“Well, that’s because we don’t have to throw them.  We just drop them over the side.  From fifty feet the jugs burst on impact,” Campbell added.  He smiled, “After all, it is the Fourth of July.”

“So when the target is saturated, how do you ignite it?”

“You’re gonna love this, President.”

Campbell produced a hunting bow and an arrow wound at the tip with cotton T-shirt material.

“I have three of these soaked in gasoline.  I flick my Bic, and fire my shot.”

“Geronimo would be proud of you, Bill.”

“It is a nice touch, isn’t it?”

“I’m really hoping this will solve the problem, Bill.”

“Well, it won’t solve all our problems, but it will rid the earth of Kucera.  If he leaves the house I will spray him with 9mm slugs.  Spray him until his body quits jerking.  I might even land and take a scalp.”

“I’d like that, Bill!”

“On the other hand, if he doesn’t exit, he will be roasted like the pig he is.”

“You are a sweet talker, Bill.  You’re certain he is at the ranch house?”

“We had him under visual observation until sundown.  He and his girlfriend were on the porch until dusk.  They went inside thirty minutes ago.  No vehicle has left the ranch.  So I guess the girl goes also.”

“I like that, too.  Sounds like you have everything covered, Bill.”

“I think so,” Campbell said.  “We’ll hit them half an hour from now, right when the fireworks are peaking at the fairgrounds.  That’ll give us additional cover.”

“All sounds good, Bill.”

Campbell hesitated then said, “President, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Well, President,” Campbell said slowly. “I was wondering what we are going to do?”

“To do?”

“Well, you know, about the intercepted transmissions.”

“Do you trust me, Bill?”

“You know I do, President.”

“Well, let’s just say that I have the situation under control.  Can you go with that?”

Campbell was silent for a moment.  He looked at the Prophet, Seer, and Revelator—a man he had served for more than twenty years.

“Sure, President.  Sure, I can go with that.”

“Good man, Bill.  Listen, Saturday I am going to fly to Jackson to visit Charlie Pickens.  I don’t know if you noticed, but Charlie is not the same man he once was.”

Campbell looked up quickly.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, during the…the incident at Manti.  You know, I just got the feeling that he was…wearing thin.”

Campbell stared at the Prophet, looking into his eyes longer than he had ever dared to before.  Then he cleared his throat.

Finally he said, “Well, we can’t let that happen, President.”

“No, Bill,” Hansen said evenly.  “No, we can’t.  I have received a direct commandment from God regarding Charlie.”

Campbell dropped his eyes to the ground.

“One other thing, Bill.”

“Yeah?”

“I have contacted the Danites and told them to resume transmission.  I have told them to send sanitized information—information that is unimportant and certainly not incriminating.  I want our friends who compromised your post the other evening.”

“I just don’t know how that could happen,” Campbell said quickly.

“I’m not criticizing you, Bill.  I’m just hoping that by resuming transmission we can make them think that maybe we’re not wise to them.  Maybe we can buy ourselves some time.”

“OK.”

“The main thing is that we want everything to look normal here.  I need to buy a little more time.  I want to continue to man the cabin, so you won’t be going with me to Jackson Hole.  I want you at the Medicine Wheel just like everything is normal.

“OK, President.  I understand.”

“You always do, Bill.  You always do.”

***

At 10:30 p.m. Jan and Ginny were sitting in the darkened house watching a DVD.  Jack Nicholson was throwing a dog down a laundry chute.  Jan became aware of a strange drumming sound.  The sound was lower-pitched than the bass back-beat from any hot-rod sound system.  It reminded him of something from his childhood.  When his dad fired up the old one-cylinder John Deere, it would make a unique popping sound.  Jan remembered those tractors were called “poppin’ Johnnys.”

But the sound also reminded him of something else.  The first summer after being released from the Navy and before going to college, he had worked in Alaska for a company that provided radiolocation data to oil company ships plying the coastal waters looking for oil.  His job was to maintain the radio equipment which provided the ship with an electronic triangulation signal. He had spent the summer on a mountaintop, near Yakutat, overlooking Malespina Glacier.  Every two weeks a helicopter would fly from Yakutat fifty miles to the station on the mountaintop.  Ten minutes before the chopper came into view you could hear the sound of its blades chopping the air…

Suddenly Jan bolted upright.  Chopper!  Now the sound was directly overhead.  He heard the sound of heavy objects being dropped on the roof of the ranch house.  Suddenly, he saw the kitchen ceiling burst into flame.  Outside he heard the sound of automatic rifle fire.

Ginny was looking at him, her eyes wide with terror.

“Quick,” Jan said grabbing her roughly and dragging her off the couch.  “Follow me!”

He led her quickly down the hall and into the bedroom.  Chunks of flaming ceiling were falling on them.  He heard Ginny screaming and turned to see her hair aflame.  Grabbing a bath towel off a chair, he wrapped it quickly around her head.  Immediately he could smell burning flesh.  Ginny tried to touch her hair and began to moan in pain.

Jan grabbed her around the waist and dragged her through the closet door, through the hidden doorway and into the basement.  With sweaty hands he grabbed a flashlight and shined it on Ginny’s red and blistered forehead.

“Are you OK?” he yelled above the din of the chopper blades, chopper motor, gunfire, explosions, and falling lumber.  Immediately the ranch house’s floor, which was the ceiling of the old basement house, burst into flame.  Smoke began to fill the room.

“C’mon,” he yelled, “we gotta get out of here.”  Grabbing the shotgun standing in the corner of the basement, he led her to the tunnel exit.  The scurried down the narrow tunnel and at the far end he boosted Ginny up into the boathouse.  Once outside, he helped her into the aluminum boat, released the tether and shoved off into the darkened river.

As they drifted away from the bank he looked back at the inferno which was his home.  The Sikorsky still hovered above the house.  Bill Campbell, still spraying the house with an automatic weapon, was leaning out of the passenger door.  Jan doubted they would spot the boat, but in the light of a nearly full moon it was possible.  He struggled to the stern, climbed gently over Ginny, and pumped the primer on a small outboard.  He yanked the rope and the motor caught.  Heading downstream in current, motor full bore, he would reach the Basin bridge—and relative safety—in minutes.

Holding the rudder with his left hand, he reached over and touched Ginny.  She was lying on her stomach, with her feet in the bow, resting her head in her arms on the center seat.  He patted her shoulder.

“I’ll be OK,” she murmured softly.