“How long has Walmer been with the organization?”
Cody had asked to speak to Franklin in private a few minutes before the team was scheduled to leave. Standing across from the big man in a corner of the warehouse, the boy was hardly recognizable. His face was covered with camouflage paint, a snub-nose submachine gun loaded with thirty-two rounds of ammunition hung from his shoulder and a Special Forces combat knife was strapped on his belt.
“He came in a few days before we found you. Of course, we’ve been careful not to let him in on everything. He doesn’t know any of our sources or about changing the uniforms of the CCR. I assume you have a good reason for asking?”
“Did you know he speaks fluent Republic?”
“That’s what got him one of the radio operator jobs. We needed somebody who could talk to them. What’s your point, Cody?”
“I heard him talking to the CCR today. It didn’t sound right. I think you should watch him.”
Franklin raised his hand and summoned Rico.
“You need something, boss?”
Franklin spoke softly near his ear. “Walmer is a plant. Tell Gunner to get rid of him.”
“Wait.” Cody grabbed Franklin’s sleeve. “Aren’t you going to make sure?”
Franklin’s eyes turned hard. “This is reality, Cody. We’re in a war here and I don’t have the luxury of waiting. By the time we find out, it could be too late for all of us. Understand?”
Cody looked at the floor. A few minutes before, he had been positive that Walmer was a spy working for the other side. So positive that he had turned him in. But now, what if he was wrong … the thought trailed off.
Franklin wished them luck and ordered the team to the trucks. Cody moved mechanically. He fell in behind the men and somehow made his way outside.
Thompson gave him a hand up into the back of the truck. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll make sure you don’t get your rump shot off.”
Rico was the last one in. He sat down across from Thompson. “Don’t worry about Cody. The boss wouldn’t have chosen him to go on this run if he couldn’t hold up his end of it.”