The Battle: Alone: Book 4 (4 page)

Chapter 6

     John Swain wasn’t a very nice man. He’d been Captain John Swain when he’d been in the Army. A pretty good soldier, given his temper and violent nature.

     He was smart too.

     Smart enough to progress through the ranks quickly, from second lieutenant to first, and then to captain in his sixth year of service.

     Back in those days he had his sights set on being career Army, perhaps retiring after twenty five years as a bird colonel.

     Bird colonels were by nature a collector of friends. Not necessarily because they were friendly sorts, but because they could get things done.

     By the time they retired, they generally knew people from all walks of life, in a lot of different places.

     Some of them powerful places.

    And those same people, who’d gone to the colonels when strings needed to be pulled or pressure needed to be applied, were beholden to the colonels for reciprocation.

     Because backs didn’t scratch themselves.

     Not all retired colonels called in favors from former contractors or colleagues.

     But enough of them did to make it an accepted practice in Washington, as well as corporate America.

     Captain Swain was in the 8
th
Army’s Contracts Division. As a captain, he didn’t yet have the pull to curry favor with the big contractors. But later on he would.

     His intent, once he made it to the top of the food chain, was to let multi-million dollar contracts hang in limbo for months while prospective bidders wined and dined him.

     Eventually one of them would get so hungry, so desperate for the contract, that they’d appeal to him off the record and ask what it would take to seal the deal.

     “I don’t want anything from you,” he’d tell them. “I just want you to remember this day. And remember that I am your friend.”

     That was all it would take. A hand would be shaken, a firm would be awarded a contract worth millions, and at the same time would be placed neatly into Swain’s back pocket.

     Of course, ten years later when Swain was newly retired from the military and looking for a cushy job, there was no guarantee that the company would remember their friendship. People retire in the civilian sector too, and they move on to other companies.

     And there was nothing in writing to prove a handshake deal was ever done.

     That was why Captain Swain would put several companies in his back pocket. So even if some of them pretended they never knew him, he’d still have options to choose from.

     It was a secret system that had been going on for generations. It was how many military officers hung up their uniforms one day and became the CEOs of big corporations the very next day.

     Even if they had no clue about what their new corporation did.

     Ironically, even though Captain Swain was as corrupt as could be, that wasn’t what brought about his downfall.

     What toppled Swain was his temper, and his stupidity.

     He’d had several affairs before and during his Army days. He was a handsome man who carried himself well, and women flocked to him.

     He made a point to avoid married women because such relationships almost always led to drama. And besides, he was a man who enjoyed being out in public with a beautiful woman on his arm.

     And he couldn’t do that with someone else’s wife.

     At least, not without risking his career.

     For the Army was old fashioned, in that it considered affairs of the heart to be Army business. Adultery was still a court-martial offense, and a career killer.

     Swain had been able to fend off admiring wives of other officers and stick to women who were single and therefore legal to hunt.

     Until Rebecca White came along. Rebecca was married, but was too beautiful to pass up.

     She was married to the deputy post commander, a lieutenant colonel who was a stickler for protocol. He demanded every little bit of respect due him, and wouldn’t hesitate to berate any one of his soldiers for the slightest indiscretion.

     He was also a very jealous and suspicious sort.

     That part of him was driven by a wife who’d tired of an impotent man, and who’d gone elsewhere to satisfy her needs and desires.

     Several times.

     Swain was the latest in a long line of lovers. But he was her last.

     In a nutshell, the suspicious husband came home early to find Swain in the throes of passion with his wife, who was screaming things the husband had never heard before.

     And that was disrespectful on so many levels.

     He interrupted the session and kicked Swain out of his house. And if he’d left it at that, he’d likely still be alive.

     But as Swain was walking out, he told him he was finished.

     “Kiss the Army goodbye, asshole,” Lt. Col. White had said. “Adultery is still worth three to five. And I’ll make sure you serve every day of it.”

     Swain returned twenty minutes later with a handgun and blew away not only the deputy commander, but the wife as well.

     As he stood and watched her bleed out, he told her, “You weren’t that good anyway.”

     Lt. Col. White was wrong. Swain didn’t serve three to five for adultery. The Judge Advocate General saw no need to try him for adultery when they’d already sentenced him to two consecutive life terms for murder.

     And Swain got the last laugh. Two years later he was a free man, sprung from Leavenworth prison when the world fell into chaos.

     Now, he didn’t need no stinkin’ Army. And he didn’t need no stinkin’ CEO job.

     Because now he was writing his own ticket. He was king of the world.

     In the master bedroom of the farmhouse, lying on the bed which once belonged to Karen and Tommy, Swain studied the ceiling fan slowly turning above his head.

     There was a knock on the door.

     “Who is it?”

     “It’s Lindsey, sir.”

     “Come in.”

     The door opened and Dave’s oldest daughter, now sixteen years old, walked in carrying a serving tray.

     “Here’s your dinner, sir.”

     “Just put it on the table.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Thank you, Lindsey.”

     “You’re welcome.”

     “I’m welcome,
sir
.”

     “You’re welcome sir. Will there be anything else, sir?”

     “No thank you. You may go.”

     Lindsey turned to leave, but he stopped her in the doorway.

     “Lindsey?”

     “Yes, sir?”

     “The ceiling fan is dusty. Please tell your mother and your Aunt Karen I want it cleaned tomorrow while I’m meeting with the troops.”

     “Yes, sir. I’ll tell them.”

     “And Lindsey, you’re turning into a beautiful woman.”

     “Thank you, sir.”

     “Someday you’ll be mine. Not yet, for you’re still forbidden fruit. But someday, mark my words, I’ll make you my wife.”

      She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she remained silent.

     “Doesn’t that make you happy, Lindsey?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “That is all. You may go.”

     “Thank you, sir.”

Chapter 7

     Dave referred to the Rand McNally road atlas he’d brought with him to find his way to Kansas City. By now it had been rained on twice and leafed through numerous times, and was a bit tattered around the edges.

     Some of the pages were missing now, since he’d run out of toilet paper on his journey and had to make due until he could find another roll.

     He wasn’t smart enough to pack enough toilet paper. But at least he was smart enough to tear out pages of the atlas he’d never need.

     So the page showing the area west and north of Kansas City was still there.

     He’d passed signs on his way to the farm that pointed off to the north and said,

DUGAN          10 MILES

     A quick look at his map confirmed his suspicions. That Dugan was the nearest town of any size in the area.

     Now Dave had another dilemma.

     As though he didn’t have enough already.

     He needed to visit the town of Dugan. For several reasons. First and foremost, to see if there was any semblance of law enforcement still there. He needed reinforcements. He could go it alone if he had to. He was quite willing to do so, and quite confident he’d win the battle. Because he had right and justice on his side.

     On the other hand, he was outnumbered and outgunned. And not by just a little bit.

     Extra bodies could help him even the odds.

     If they were available. And if they were willing.

     He’d also need extra ammunition. He’d brought just enough to protect himself along the way north, and to protect his family on the way south.

     He hadn’t planned on needing enough rounds to get through what could turn into several firefights.

     His latest problem, as he saw it, was how to get to Dugan.

     It was too far to walk. Yes, he could hike ten miles in three or four hours. And he could scout out the town to make sure it wasn’t overrun with outlaws, then make his way into the town to search for a police chief or a sheriff’s office to ask for help.

     And if help wasn’t available, he could hike the ten miles back to where he’d left the Explorer. That would eat up a whole day and leave him utterly exhausted.

     Or… he could take a big risk. He could drive the big SUV to Dugan and pray that nobody saw him. Knowing that he’d be easy prey for any man with a rifle and a steady aim.

     And if he died, so would die any chance of his family ever being rescued.

     He sat under a shade tree, eating an MRE and drinking bottles of water, weighing each option.

     Finally, he came up with a third plan.

     He spent a good part of the night wondering if Tommy had ever gone through with his plans to dig a tunnel from his farm to the woods which surrounded it.

     To do so would have been a massive undertaking. But Tommy Spencer owned his own business. Farming was more a hobby than a livelihood. He was a builder by trade and a good one. His construction business had built some of the most popular housing developments in west Kansas City.

     There were several perks to being the owner of a successful construction business. Besides, of course, that the pay was good and allowed him the money to fund his lifestyle and prepping efforts.

     As the owner, he had managers and supervisors beneath him… underlings that could do most of his tasks almost as well as he could.

     So he could therefore set his own schedule. He could take a week off here and a short vacation there without being docked pay or worrying about the business going south.

     And that meant he could take time off for other things as well.

     Like, for example, he could take off for a few days or weeks to take care of a project such as digging a three hundred yard access tunnel.

     Another benefit to being the owner of a construction company was the ability to divert workers, equipment and materials for such a project if he felt it was too big to handle alone.

     Knowing Tommy like he did, though, Dave thought that he would want to keep the tunnel hush-hush and would therefore do all the work himself.

     Of course, there might not even be a tunnel. Tommy might have weighed his options and determined it wouldn’t be feasible.

     The single conversation they’d had about a possible tunnel had taken place more than three years before. And although Dave wracked his brain trying to remember, he could recall no other conversations where Karen or Tommy had mentioned the progress of a tunnel project. Never a word on how it was going or when it was to be finished or how it would look.

     Or, more importantly, where Dave could find it if he ever had to use it to rescue his family.

     Dave hadn’t seen any sign of Karen or of Tommy. He was assuming that they were still alive and were also being held captive.

     But what if that weren’t the case?