As Garrett drove up to the Kohl Ranch he was shocked to see that the entrance was blocked by a crowd of about two dozen protesters. He was about to stop and see what they wanted, but since Asadi was riding shotgun, Garrett decided that they’d better just drive around them and keep on going. But before he could make the turn, a few angry activists jumped out in front of his GMC and started slapping on his hood. The others fanned out and closed in around them.
Most of their chanting, other than the words greed and pipeline, Garrett couldn’t make out. But it was clear that the message was directed at him. He looked to Asadi, who seemed more amused than scared. Garrett’s first impression was that this group was more bark than bite. And if push came to shove, they’d be out of danger with a mash on his accelerator. But phones were out, and cameras were rolling, which meant it was likely that he’d look like the antagonist.
Opting for the back entrance to the ranch over the main gate, Garrett threw the shifter in reverse. He’d just pressed the gas pedal when he heard a few gasps and screams. Slamming his foot on the brake, he glanced into the rearview mirror, finding half a dozen activists had moved in from behind to block his escape. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Apparently, his aggressive maneuver had riled the crowd. And what had once been palms slapping the front and sides of his truck turned into banging fists.
Garrett turned back to Asadi, who was no longer amused. His eyes were wide with fear. “It’s okay, buddy. They’ll move out of the way.”
Garrett hoped that was true, but the reality was that the activists looked like they were just getting started. Given the circumstances, he figured he’d better involve the law. The mob was out on a public county road but there was no way it was legal to stop him. And their belligerence was starting to feel like a threat. Unable to call Tony Sanchez for obvious reasons, Garrett did the unthinkable and pulled up Sheriff Ted Crowley’s contact info.
The Hemphill County lawman was almost the last person in the world he’d want to call for help. But part of him reveled in the idea of making him get off his lazy ass to come do his job. Garrett was just about to hit the number when he was interrupted by a thwack to his windshield that caused him to look up. Spying the baseball-sized rock atop his hood, he turned to Asadi.
“Who threw that?” Garrett looked back at the crowd but there were no obvious culprits. “Where’d it come from?”
It was evident from his son’s blank expression that he didn’t know either. And it didn’t really matter. The crowd was getting rowdier and their shouts more obscene. The banging on all sides of his truck turned into a subtle rocking back and forth. Garrett had just turned back to comfort his son when a rock pelted the passenger door, and another banged the passenger side, just below Asadi’s window.
“Dammit! Enough is enough.” Garrett threw the truck back in drive, laid on the horn, and was about to jam his foot on the accelerator when he saw a familiar face. To himself, he whispered, “Stoddard?”
The guy with blond dreadlocks, in a puffy blue coat, was the spitting image of someone he once knew well. And it seemed there was a mutual recognition in his old counterpart. Even in the special operations community, Kai Stoddard had always marched to the beat of his own drum, but Garrett never dreamed he’d be marching along with anyone in this group.
As an avid outdoorsman and rock climber, Kai had been a natural fit to lead a quick reaction force (QRF) made up of Army Rangers in Afghanistan, who’d worked with Garrett’s mountain warfare unit hunting down high-value terrorist targets. Growing up in the redwoods of Humboldt County in Northern California, Kai was a little more granola than your average batboy. But when it came to mountaineering, he instructed the instructors.
Kai threw up his hands to the other protesters and shouted at them to halt. It took a few tries to get them subdued, but eventually the rocking stopped, the vulgarities subsided, and the mob backed away from the truck. He stepped around the hood and made his way around to the driver’s-side door, pushing any stragglers who were slow to get moving.
Garrett rolled down his window, working hard to cool his temper. “Thought Rangers were supposed to be kind of stealthy.” He forced a smile. “You’re about as subtle as a garbage truck with cinder-block wheels.”
Kai shook his head. “When I heard Kohl Ranch, you came to mind. But then I thought, there’s gotta be a jillion cowboys in the state of Texas with that last name.”
“A jillion and one.” Garrett pointed to his busted windshield. “I’d ask for reimbursement, but it looks like the villagers spent all their money on pitchforks and torches.”
Kai surveyed the crowd, then turned back to Garrett. “They’re just passionate about what they want to protect.”
“Know the feeling.” Garrett tilted his head at Asadi. “We gonna have a problem?”
His follow-up gesture of patting his shirt around the belt buckle wouldn’t be lost on Kai. He’d know there was a pistol under his clothing. And more importantly, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if he thought his son’s life was in jeopardy.
Kai looked over at Asadi. “Didn’t see him there.”
Garrett wasn’t smiling anymore. “Yeah, well, now you do.”
Kai turned around slowly and batted a hand at the mob. “Everybody back away! Give him some room!”
The crowd grumbled but moved away from the truck, looking disappointed that their fun had been spoiled. Most of them mulled off, but a few stood guard, keeping their focus on Kai.
“Looks like you’ve got some well-disciplined soldiers.” Garrett added, “Sort of.”
Kai ignored the barb. “Bet you’re wondering how I ended up here?”
“Hell, I didn’t know if you were still alive. Lost touch after Panjshir Valley.”
Kai looked off into the distance. “After all that, I decided to get lost for a while.”
Garrett was the only survivor of a mountain warfare unit made up of indigenous forces and Americans operators who were pinned down for thirty-six hours in the Hindu Kush. There were a lot of excuses as to what went wrong: bad communication, horrible weather, and dithering top brass. But the bottom line was that Kai’s team dropped the ball and got there too late.
After a survey of the protesters, Garrett could see that these men and women weren’t your twentysomething-year-old deadbeats, looking to smoke weed and avoid getting a job. They were a hardened bunch, out braving the cold and his grille guard for their cause. He lowered his voice to make sure the protesters couldn’t hear him.
“Listen, Kai, I don’t know exactly what you’re up to, but I’m worried that there might be some folks who’ll get the wrong impression about why you’re here.”
“Oh yeah?” Kai smirked. “Who might be getting this wrong impression?”
“Well, me for one. Guess we can start there.”
Kai got serious. “And what impression might that be?”
“That this isn’t just some friendly freedom of expression going on. There’s something more.”
“Garrett, there’s nothing friendly about this. We’re here for one reason and one reason only. And that’s to shut down the Trans-Palisade pipeline.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know this, but pipelines are running all across the whole damn ranch. In fact, we’re probably sitting on top of one right now.” Garrett shifted a little in his seat. “I’m not one to tell a man his business, but if you’re here to stop oil companies from moving hydrocarbons beneath the ground then you’re about a century too late.”
Kai leaned a little closer and lowered his voice also. “This connector you got to the Permian will affect global energy policy for the next fifty years. We’re talking next level here.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not leaving until this project is dead.”
Garrett found it odd that Kai was learning the news about the pipeline deal at nearly the same time as him. The fact that this group of protesters had made it up to the compressor station so fast was also fishy. Vicky’s theory about ecoterrorism had seemed a bit far-fetched until now.
“Well, Kai, it looks like this won’t be our last meeting then. A lot of people with money and influence want this to happen. Your fight is a helluva lot bigger than me.”
“Like it or not, this is ground zero. First skirmish. This won’t be the last you see of us.”
His words were said in a way that sounded a whole lot like a declaration of war. Garrett didn’t want to believe that anyone he’d served in combat with would later become an enemy, but if there was anyone capable of sabotage, it was the man standing before him. As a platoon master breacher in the Rangers, Kai knew explosives. And now he had clear motivation to use them.
If Kai wanted to fight the good fight, then he’d get one. But before levying any threats of his own, Garrett just offered up a salute in jest, mashed the accelerator, and drove off the battlefield. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before he and his old friend faced off again.