As the trucks sped through the night, Cody thought about Walmer. What if he wasn’t a plant? What if …
Rico touched his arm and whispered. “You did the right thing, kid. There are a lot of lives at stake here. Now it’s done with. Put it out of your mind. Think about the mission. These guys will all be watching you. Don’t let us down, okay?”
Cody forced himself to concentrate on the briefing Franklin had given them. They were on their way to the train depot at Wilcox. Rico and another man named Martin had the job of slipping in and checking out the site. When they gave the all clear, the rest of them were supposed to come in, take out the guards and load the missiles.
Franklin had especially wanted Cody to go along because of the wall safe in the depot office. It would be his job to crack it, gather the contents and meet the rest of them back at the truck.
Three hours passed before the trucks finally pulled off on a side road and turned out their lights. One by one the men silently jumped out.
Rico and Martin slipped down the hill toward the depot lights. The rest of them crawled to the edge of the road and watched, waiting for the signal.
Cody’s palms started sweating. He’d never actually killed an enemy before. There was the farmer he’d stabbed with the pitchfork. But that hadn’t been planned and he wasn’t positive the farmer had died.
He felt a firm tap on his shoulder and glanced down the hill. A light flashed three times. Rico and Martin were in.
Thompson led the way down the slope. There were eight of them altogether, including Rico and Martin. Franklin never sent very large teams. The idea was to take the enemy by surprise, get the job done and get out without being caught.
Martin was waiting for them at the bottom of the hill. “The troops sent to guard the missiles are housed over there in that building for the night,” he whispered, pointing to a square shack on the other side of the tracks. “There are six guards in front of the freight car where the missiles are stored.” He turned to Cody. “The depot looks empty. Give us a couple of minutes to take out the guards, then go in.”
“Let’s get to it.” Thompson and two men went one way and Martin and the rest went another. Cody was left standing alone, not quite sure what to do.
He waited, counting off the seconds, took a deep breath and haltingly made his way to the depot. When he reached the outside wall, he flattened himself against it and listened. After a long moment he peeked around the corner. The team had already dispatched the guards and was unloading the missiles.
Cody smiled to himself. Maybe this mission wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
As quietly as he could he crept across the wooden porch and tried the depot door. It was locked. Cody reached in his pocket for his lockpick and in moments the door swung open.
A dim yellow light hung from the lobby ceiling. Cody searched the room. Franklin had told him the wall safe would be in an office through a door to his right. He found the door, softly opened it and looked for the safe. It was there just as Franklin had said.
Slipping his gun sling over his head, he laid the submachine gun on the floor beside the safe. There was barely enough light from the other room for him to see what he was doing. Franklin had given Cody a small flashlight but cautioned him to use it only in an emergency. They had received the same instructions about their guns. If at all possible, they were to pull off the entire job without a shot to avoid waking the rest of the guards.
The safe looked like one of many he and Franklin had opened back in Los Angeles a couple of years before. Cody dropped to his knees and went to work. The first tumbler fell without a hitch. But the second one was stubborn. Cody missed it and had to start over.
He held his breath and turned the knob again. It fell on the right, then on the left and then, very slowly, listening with all his might, Cody turned the knob back to the right and finally heard the last tumbler drop.
Cody let out his breath and pulled the safe door open. There was no time to check the contents. He grabbed at everything and began stuffing it into a canvas pouch Franklin had given him for the purpose.
“Hurry it up, kid.”
Cody jumped and grabbed for his gun. He’d been concentrating so hard he hadn’t heard Thompson come in behind him.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Cody whispered angrily.
“Do what?” Thompson whispered back from the doorway. “Scare the baby?”
Cody ignored him and went back to cleaning out the safe.
“I have you covered.” A bright light snapped on in the other room. “Turn around slowly and put your hands on your head,” a voice commanded.
Cody realized whoever was in the next room couldn’t see him kneeling on the floor because Thompson’s large frame was blocking the doorway. He quietly crawled to the side while Thompson put his hands up and turned to face the voice.
“Step over here, away from the door.”
The soldier kept his gun on Thompson while he edged toward the room to see what his new captive had been up to. He spotted the open safe and cursed in the Republic language, then turned. “You will be shot for this—of course, you would have been shot in any case.”
The instant the CCR soldier turned his back, Cody was up. In one motion he slipped the combat knife from the sheath and threw himself forward, the knife in front of him like a short sword. It was all automatic and later he knew that if he’d thought about it he couldn’t have done it. The knife seemed to disappear into the back of the soldier and the man gasped, a tight breath, half turned to see what had hit him and fell forward and down on his face. The soldier moved a moment and was still. Cody stood, staring at the knife sticking out of the middle of the dead man’s back. He could not make himself move. Not an inch.
Thompson was not idle. He leaned over, made sure the soldier was dead and then smiled up at Cody. “You saved me.…” He was going to say something more but at that moment Rico sprinted into the depot, breathing hard, with an angry frown on his face. “What’s the holdup in here?”
He saw the soldier lying facedown on the floor and glanced across at Cody, who was still poised to attack. “Is everybody okay?”
“Thanks to the kid here,” Thompson said. “He’s something else. How old did you say he is again?”
“He’s fourteen.” Rico grinned. “But he’s a mean fourteen.”