A Time for Patriots

“Because the press likes controversy, and no one wants to take on an ex-president,” Patrick said. “Listen, I’ve been looking over the sensor images, and I see a bunch of flags that I think we need to take a look at.”

“Where?”

“One of the Andorsen mines down near Mount Callahan.”

“Freedom-7,” David said. “Me and Fid go hunting down near there every year. I’ve got work all day tomorrow, but I’ll ask Leif if he wants to go — he knows that area better than I do. I’ll have him take Fid along if he’s available. The guy’s been asking all over town about a job — maybe a ride will cheer him up.”

“Thanks, David. I’ll e-mail the images of the area the computer flagged to Leif. Let me know what he finds.”

“Will do. Sorry about your trailer. If you need anything at all, just holler.”

“Thank you. I will.”

* * *

Patrick felt as if he had only gotten a couple minutes’ sleep when he heard a loud pounding on his office door. When he opened the door, he found FBI special agent Chastain and two other agents with jackets emblazoned with FBI. “Executing the warrant to search your office, McLanahan,” he said, pushing past Patrick into the room.

“You searched it yesterday.”

“I’m searching it again.” He stepped past Brad and went right over to the desk. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the laptop computer.

“I want my attorney before I’ll answer any questions,” Patrick said.

“You’ll need one, mister,” Chastain said. He found the collection of flash drives and stared at Patrick angrily. “Withholding evidence? Putting you away will be a slam dunk, McLanahan.” He and the other agents collected the laptop and flash drives, quickly searched the desk, then departed.

“What did he mean, ‘withholding evidence,’ Dad?” Brad asked.

“We didn’t withhold anything, big guy,” Patrick said. “The flash drives are just backups — they have the same data as the laptops they seized. And the laptop is new — we just bought it yesterday. He’s trying to intimidate us, Brad — that’s how he operates. He makes people feel afraid so they’ll either talk when they’re not supposed to, or start to lie, and then he’s got you.” Patrick had a troubled look on his face; he shook it off a few moments later, then clapped his hands. “Well, we’re up, so we might as well get moving.”

After breakfast at the nearly deserted base-exchange cafeteria, they went past the front gate back out to the housing area. J. Andorsen Construction crews were busy repairing the highway from the deadly bomb blast that seemed like an eternity ago but in fact was only two days. A security-forces cruiser was parked just in back of the entrance, and Patrick noticed an unmanned Avenger parked behind the former data-processing center about a quarter of a mile away.

At the taped-off investigation-scene boundary, which was a couple blocks away from where his trailer used to be, Patrick found the deputy fire chief. “Any information on the explosive, Chief?” he asked.

“Preliminarily, they’re saying it was RDX, General,” the fire chief said after checking around to see who might be in earshot — obviously he wasn’t supposed to be sharing information with anyone. “Pretty common explosive in the military and industry, fairly easy to handle, easy to mix with plasticizing materials, easy to store — a favorite with terrorists. They say it was about three pounds, based on the blast radius. They haven’t found the trigger device but it’s a good bet it was a remote detonator, probably using a cell phone. It was probably tossed out of a vehicle — they’re checking surveillance videos. It looks like they weren’t sure which trailer was yours, because the trailers near yours were vacant where the blast occurred; since you were away also, they might’ve been confused.” He looked at Patrick, concern evident on his face. “Looks like you have some pretty serious enemies, General.”

“The list is pretty long, Chief,” Patrick said. “By the way: you haven’t seen that woman I was with yesterday around here, have you?”

“Sorry, General.”

Patrick nodded his thanks and departed.

They drove the ten miles to town, checking the bus terminal, casinos, motels, and hospital, hoping to see Gia somewhere, but still no luck, so they headed back to the base. After they arrived at his office, he took a phone call: “Hi, Patrick, Darrow here,” Darrow Horton said. “I’m on my way to Reno to talk with the U.S. attorney in person, and I should be in Battle Mountain by seven P. M. I’m bringing a couple of associates. Can you get us rooms somewhere?”

“Sure — I’ll put you up right here on base at the transient lodging facility. It’s just as nice as the casino hotels in town, and the all-ranks club has great food and is begging for business,” Patrick said. “It’ll be nice to see you. What’s going on?”