Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (35 page)

Sam swallowed his anger. A fucking test. And his back was still sore. He owed Bacher for that slam on the head.

The convoy continued northeast on Route 35 until they reached the outskirts of Selinsgrove. It took the vehicles about forty-five minutes to traverse the twenty-five miles. Jackie had brought him up to Selinsgrove for dinner once. They’d attended a concert at a university in the town—Smothers Brothers and the Kingston Trio. What university?

He tested file drawers in the back of his mind until he pulled out the drawer for that year. Hell, yes, Susquehanna University. Was this the one?

It soon became moot because the convoy turned north on Routes 11/15 and continued toward Shamokin Dam.

So much for Susquehanna University. What next?

Alex shifted in the back of the Jeep, her butt sore from the hard metal. She kept watch out the window, trying to anticipate where they were headed. Bending down, she felt the reassuring lump of the .38 in her leg holster.

The continual wheeze of Kaminsky next to her drove her crazy. He chain-smoked cigarettes, but at least she could keep her window open. Goddamn cold with the wind blowing in, though.

Kaminsky reached over and put his hand on her knee.

She leaned toward him and whispered, “If you don’t move your fucking hand, I’ll take my knife out and cut it off. Then I’ll reach down and cut something else off.”

Kaminsky jumped as if an electric current had pulsed through him. He pulled his hand back into his lap and slouched away toward the window.

She ran scenarios through her mind. They would arrive at the site in less than an hour. Kaminsky would get out of the Jeep and go up to some door. She might or might not be asked to accompany him. Suppose she went in. How would she stop the theft? At what point should she pull out her weapon? Would there be others she’d have to subdue? Then she considered the possibility of staying in the Jeep. Should she pull a weapon on Oliver? At what point? What about the driver, Rose? How would she stop Oliver from communicating with the others? And what about Sam?

She put her hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Where the hell are we going?”

Oliver turned back toward her. “All in good time, my dear. All in good time.”

She thought Oliver and the guy named Rose exchanged a nod. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Depends on the situation when we arrive,” Oliver replied. “If there are a number of people outside on the street, then we’ll need you to go inside with the professor. If not, well, let’s just wait and see.”

“I’d like to know what I’m getting into.”

“I understand, my dear. Don’t worry. You’ll make a valuable contribution no matter what.”

She leaned back. What the hell did that mean?

Sam tensed as the convoy reached Shamokin Dam. Routes 11/15 passed through a major shopping area— Lowe’s, The Bon-Ton, Wal-Mart, Applebee’s—plus a number of strip malls and fast food places. Saturday night. The area swarmed with people laden with packages, boxes, and kids.

What if some local cop, trying to do his duty, stopped one of the trucks? Maybe one of them had a taillight out. How would they explain a bunch of guys in black fatigues and night vision goggles in the back of the truck, each carrying a rifle? Why did Oliver take the risk of coming through here?

A neon light flashed over a bar off to his right, “Two-stamp Tuesday, Wacky Wednesday, and Thirsty Thursday.” Sam had to chuckle in spite of the stress he felt boiling inside him.

They made it through the crowded shopping strip malls without incident. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. The convoy turned right across the West Branch of the Susquehanna River. Sam looked up and down the river and thought he spotted a helicopter about 200 meters upriver. O’Brien?

After crossing the West Branch, Oliver continued on Route 11, paralleling the main stem of the river. Sergeant Bacher kept his interval behind Oliver, close enough to maintain visual contact but not so close as to look as if they were following the Jeep.

Sam checked his compass again. They were still headed northeast. “We should have left a guard back at the farm to keep an eye on the general’s office. We didn’t, did we?”

Bacher shook his head. “No, sir. No need. Anyone trying to sneak in will get the surprise of his life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing really.”

Sam couldn’t focus on that now. He kept watching for police cars. Oliver stayed well below the speed limit. The convoy, even with the maintained distance between vehicles, could attract attention.

After ten miles on Route 11, they reached Danville. Sam looked at his watch. They’d been on the road about an hour and a half. The site had to be close now.

A sign caught his eye: “Knuckle Buster Custom Auto Detailing. Every Time Automobile.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t think I’d want to bring my car to that place.”

“Roger that, sir.”

General Oliver’s voice cracked over the radio. “We will stop in five minutes.”

Sam grabbed the mic. “Wilco.”

Popeye’s voice came over the radio. “We will be ready to stop at your order. Over and out.”

Sam sighed. Popeye must have been dozing in commo class when Sam told him about minimizing voice traffic over the radio.

B
ob O’Brien focused on his Blackberry. “Oliver just passed through Danville.” He glanced at his watch. “The convoy has been on the road for eighty-four minutes.”

Lieutenant Patrick looked down at the map spread out across his lap. “The closest college is Staten University. It’s located in Sharpsburg, just northeast of Danville.”

O’Brien nodded. “Be alert. My bet is the convoy will be stopping soon.”

“Roger.”

O’Brien watched his monitor. “They’re pulling off the road. Pass the word to our teams. Then call the Sharpsburg chief of police. Ask him to notify the Staten University president of what we know. We’ll need their help in buttoning up and keeping students off the street.”

“Roger.” Lieutenant Patrick grabbed his cell phone.

O’Brien took a deep breath and pushed in General Gerber’s number.

“Gerber.”

“O’Brien here. Oliver just pulled off the highway. We’re about five miles from Sharpsburg, home of Staten University. I’ve alerted the chief of police and asked him to call the college president.”

“Is the Nuclear Emergency Search Team with you?”

“Yes, sir, about five miles back. They’ve got ten members spread into two vehicles, one disguised as a UPS van and the other a laundry vehicle. Their chief, Professor Sommers, told me the equipment they’ve got with them should be able to pick up unusual levels of alpha and gamma rays up to forty feet. They have equipment on call that will be able to detect radiation from hundreds of feet away.”

“Let’s hope we won’t need that.”

“Yes, sir. We should be able to keep their participation under wraps.”

“Keep me informed. I’ll call the Secretary and the White House Situation Room to give them this latest information.”

“Better alert Homeland Security, and FEMA needs to be ready in case of a problem.”

“Good idea. I’ll give the assistant secretary a call. And I’d better call the governor to update him since we’re using his national guard troops.”

“That about covers it.”

“Good luck, Bob. Give me half hour updates, sooner as things break.”

“Yes, sir.” O’Brien disconnected. What else should he be doing? He couldn’t think of anything. Probably would later. It always seemed to go that way. He smiled to himself.
What the hell! That’ll give the Monday morning quarterbacks something to kibitz about.

The Jeep’s taillights turned right off the highway. The lights bounced as Oliver moved onto a rutted dirt road. Bacher followed, the wheels of the truck spinning on the ice. A dusting of snow covered the ground.

Oliver’s voice sounded over the radio. “We’ll stop ahead. Have the men stay in the vehicles. Thorpe, Popeye, and Boris, join me at my Jeep.”

The four vehicles pulled into a clearing, tall pine trees encircling the open area. Sam jumped out and did a quick surveillance. The area remained in darkness; no lights from nearby houses and no vehicle tracks on the road. Oliver had found a well camouflaged rendezvous site.

Sergeant Bacher stepped out of the truck and stood by the driver’s door at parade rest.

Sam walked around the vehicle and faced Bacher. “You know, when you hit a guy from behind, you should make sure you complete the job.” Sam clenched his fist and hit Bacher in the face. Bacher’s head snapped back and banged against the vehicle. He fell to the ground. Sam pulled him up by his coat and slapped his face.

Bacher shook his head, his nose bleeding.

“Don’t give a guy a chance to come back at you because he sure as hell will.”

Sam straightened Bacher’s coat collar. He turned to see Rose staring at him, his weapon pointed at Sam’s chest.

“Stop it,” Oliver called. “Rose, get over by the Jeep.”

Before the night was over, either Sam or Rose would finish this fight.

Sam walked across the clearing to where Oliver stood, illuminated by the quarter moon hanging low in the sky. “You shouldn’t have told them to sneak up on me and knock me out from behind. If you wanted to test your men, there are a hell of a lot better ways to do it.”

The two stared at one another, the others seeming to hold their breath. The wind gusted, causing a chill down Sam’s back. Sam pulled his jacket collar tighter around his neck.

Oliver looked at the ground. “I underestimated you, Thorpe. Let’s call it square.”

Sam nodded. No way had they squared things, but that would have to wait until later.

Oliver had a pack of papers in his hand. He handed one to each of them. “This is a strip map of the site. It’s about four miles from here. Thorpe, you follow me to the assembly point on the map. You’ll disembark your men from the truck, but keep their weapons locked up. On my order, issue the weapons, then secure the perimeter of the lab.”

Sam looked at the map. They were going into the science building at Staten University. O’Brien knew where they were. He’d be ready.

Sam reviewed the plan in his mind. Once Oliver’s convoy had arrived at the site, O’Brien would allow Oliver’s men to enter the building, actually break into the lab. The FBI and state police SWAT teams would encircle the building and stop Oliver’s men on their way out. O’Brien said he needed to ensure there’d be no question of intent.

Sam returned to the truck. He pulled open the back window of the cap. Four pairs of eyes stared at him.

“All right, men, listen up. We’re about four miles from the target. When we stop, I’ll come back and open the door. Each of you is to climb out, but stay close to the truck. On my signal—two sounds of this whistle—return to the truck, pick up your weapon, and assume the positions shown on this map.”

Sam pulled out his flashlight and showed them the map. “Questions?”

Marshall piped up. “C-c-c-c-colonel Thorpe.”

Sam knew Marshall’s voice right away. “Yes, Marshall.”

“A-a-any idea how long-g-g this will t-take?”

“If all goes well, we should be on our way out of town I’d guess within twenty minutes. All depends how long it takes to get the material inside the lab.”