Chapter Thirty-Five

The US military base for the southern region came into view a couple minutes later. The Colonel had gone above and beyond. Jarvis figured he must know more about what was going on than Jarvis realized. They landed near three other helicopters, but much larger and meaner – bristling with weapons. The corporal who’d escorted them to the transport earlier had put them in the company of a sergeant who looked at them quizzically but respectfully when he’d led them into the helicopter. Now he jumped out and signaled toward a permanent looking tent.

 

“Sirs, you can clean up in there. Transport plane heads to Frankfurt at 1600 hours. Commercial flight to Los Angeles after a couple hour layover.”

 

Jarvis nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll mention your hospitality.” Nothing rewarded a career military man like recognition with a higher up who could support early promotion.

 

They headed to the tent and the noise from the enormous rotor lessened. Brin looked like he’d just arrived home after a long stay away. Jarvis glanced over and could only think, “pig in shit.”

 

They opened the metal door to the tent, which was more portable barracks than camping accoutrement. A couple thousand square feet, separated into rooms by wood paneling, and a shower and full bathroom at the far end. It was empty and the rations on the table up against the wall were a couple notches better than MREs. Brin looked slightly disappointed – probably had in mind a good tube of steak mush and freeze-dried mac and cheese. The fresh sandwiches were too civilized.

 

He rested the rifle that was still in his left hand on the ground and cocked his head at Jarvis. “What next, Kimosabe?”

 

Jarvis laughed abruptly. “Kimosabe? You watching TVLand in your hut in the woods?” He went over to grab a sandwich; he hadn’t eaten in sixteen hours, a rookie mistake. No way to know when the next meal was coming or when he’d need a burst of energy. “Next we’ve got some hunting to do.” He took a bottle of water and sat in a folding chair at a small table in the center of the room.

 

Brin took water but eschewed the sandwiches and sat down across from Jarvis. “Keep going.”

 

Jarvis thoughtfully chewed a reasonably good egg salad on rye. He pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it in front of Brin. It had names, addresses, and some numbers on it.

 

“Mudar was running an operation to poison people in the States. Sick fucker blew up the school and blamed it on us so he could foment fury and vengeance in the kids who lived and the parents of the ones killed.”

 

Brin didn’t look at the paper. “Foment?”

 

Jarvis choked on a bite of sandwich and held back another laugh. “I found a couple of ‘em, and most of the rest probably went underground. FBI has the list – well, they have part of the list.” Now Brin looked down at the sheet.

 

“Why’d you hold back on these?”

 

Jarvis fingered the corner of the paper. “The sleepers out in the boonies were probably their second-raters. They’ll stay hidden and the Feds will track them down. Timmons has them. But the A-list crazies are going to be in the big city where they can do more damage. They won’t stay quiet for long. We’re gonna find them. You in?”

 

“Try and stop me. Kimosabe.”

 

“Careful or I’ll start calling you Tonto. Or worse – Robin.”

 

That got a solid laugh out of Brin. They looked at the list and began to map out a strategy: Chicago, New York, San Francisco. Jarvis had already terminated the threats in LA. New York was down one after his visit to Mohan. That left one more in NY and one each in Boston and San Francisco. The Terrorist A-Team. He and Brin were now a kill squad of two. Word would get out about Mudar being dead and the cells would either disappear forever or accelerate their pace. If they were still awaiting instructions, they’d be confused and the FBI would have time to track them down. But if timetables had already been established, they’d eventually bull forward. They were kids, turned by hatred and set on a path in a country they were told had ruined their lives. But as kids they were still impressionable – and unpredictable. He and Brin would need to focus on the major cities.

 

Jarvis pulled out his satellite mobile. Among the various emails was one from Lufthansa. It was an electronic boarding pass for FRA to JFK. “Looks like we really are VIPs. Business class across the Atlantic. I’ve got yours here – guess the Colonel didn’t have your email address.” Brin probably had a few dozen addresses, none traceable to him.

 

“Great, I can catch up on my tv shows.”

 

Jarvis wasn’t entirely certain his friend was kidding. He planned on getting at least two nights’ worth of sleep on the military plane to Germany. There was planning to do and the comfort of a smooth-flying commercial flight with food and drink was the perfect setting. They sat quietly for a few minutes, very different emotions about the job ahead but almost identical strategizing going on their minds.

 

“I’m going to grab a shower. We’ve got a couple of hours.”

 

Brin looked up. “I was gonna say something, but…”

 

Jarvis laughed as he headed to the back of the building. His friend still smelled of hospital and sweat. He hoped there was enough hot water for Brin after he took his own 30 minutes to wash the sand, the grime, and the scent of death off his body.