A Time for Patriots

“Dozens of families a day from all over northern Nevada, California, Utah, and southern Oregon are making their way to Joint Air Base Battle Mountain here in the high desert of north-central Nevada to take part in a new government program to provide shelter, food, medical care, and jobs to the neediest among us,” the television reporter was saying. Viewers could see three school buses approaching the base’s main gate. “This is day three of President Phoenix’s controversial new executive order that opens the gates, and the purses, of military bases around the world to civilians desperately in need of help.”

Patrick was watching the television in his office, with Brad beside him. He didn’t want his son out of sight for more than a couple minutes. The funeral for Ron Spivey, yet another Civil Air Patrol member gunned down by shadowy unknown assassins in just the past few weeks, was hard on everyone, but especially on Brad. His son rarely spoke and, as now, mostly sat staring off into space. His appetite was nonexistent, and he stayed mostly in his bedroom in their trailer, lying in bed but not sleeping.

There was a knock on the office door, and Timothy Dobson entered. He stood in front of Patrick’s desk. “I’m so very sorry, Brad,” he said in a quiet voice. “I wish I could’ve stopped them.” Brad did not move a muscle.

“Were you able to identify them, Tim?” Patrick asked.

Dobson nodded. “Officially they are security officers assigned to the Russian consulate in Vancouver, British Columbia,” he replied, “but Interpol says they are direct-action operatives of the Glavnoye Razvedyvatel’noye Upravleniye, or GRU, the Russian military foreign-intelligence service. The Russian foreign ministry denies all this. When asked of their current whereabouts, the ministry claims the men are on their way back to Russia as scheduled.” Patrick nodded, his eyes filled with hate. “They are on all the no-fly and most-wanted lists. But they’ve been very successful so far in slipping away in plain sight.” He looked at Brad. “You two are not safe outside the base, and with all these civilians coming in now, you may not even be safe here. The vice president is urging you—”

“I’m not leaving,” Patrick said. “That’s final. I’m not running. I’ll find a way to locate these guys, and I’ll hunt them down and eliminate them myself.”

“They’re professional killers, General,” Dobson said. “They can move and blend in almost at will—”

“They may be professionals, but they made an amateurish mistake by being caught on a half-dozen security cameras that night,” Patrick said. “They’ve got their faces on thousands of computer screens and wanted posters all over North America. They’re under pressure to perform instead of missing their target, which will make them sloppy and vulnerable.”

“Maybe so, sir,” Dobson said, “but all the Russians have to do is bring in a different team. The chase starts all over again, with different faces.”

“That would happen if we were in Washington too,” Patrick said. “No, I’ll find a way to stop them.” He went back to watching the television; Dobson had nothing further to say, so he departed. A few minutes later, Patrick stood. “I’m going to meet the new group and help them get settled,” he said to Brad. “Come along with me.” After a moment’s hesitation, Brad stood, his head still lowered. But just then, there was a knock on the door. “Come.” Patrick was surprised to see Judah Andorsen come through the door, and he shot to his feet. “Mr. Andorsen! This is a surprise.”

“Hope I’m not botherin’ you, General,” Andorsen said in his big, booming voice. He was wearing his usual outfit, the only one Patrick had ever seen him in: leather flying jacket, jeans, boots, cowboy hat, and leather work gloves. He shook hands with Patrick, then looked over at Brad. “This is your son, right? The one that found that crash survivor?”

“I don’t believe you’ve met him, sir,” Patrick said. “Mr. Andorsen, this is my son, Brad. Brad, this is Mr. Judah Andorsen.” Brad raised his eyes just long enough to shake Andorsen’s hand.

“Hey, I’m sorry about your friend, son,” Andorsen said. “The news said it was an attempted robbery, and when your friend tried to call the cops, they went crazy.” Dobson had somehow managed to get control of the security-camera tapes, so no one knew that it was really an assassination rather than a botched robbery. “You doin’ okay, son?”

“Yes, sir,” Brad said.

“We were just on our way out to meet the new arrivals, Mr. Andorsen,” Patrick said.

“I don’t want to keep you, General,” Andorsen said. “I just wanted to stop in and say how proud I am to know you. Word has it that this whole program openin’ up the base to folks from these camps was your idea.”

“The base commander, Kurt Givens, and I came up with it,” Patrick said. “The White House and Department of Defense signed on quickly.”