CHAPTER 7

“Tina has volunteered to take the patrol up to Teterboro Airport,” Dan informed him.

Ben did not hesitate. To do so would have been showing favoritism, and Tina would have been highly irritated. “All right, have her start pulling equipment. Dan, how in the hell is she going to get across?”

Dan traced the route with his finger, as he leaned over the hood of Ben’s Jeep. “I have suggested this: she backtracks through Staten Island and picks up this Two-eighty-seven loop, following it all the way to Interstate Eighty; then she’ll cut back east.

This way will also give us some intel as to how far out this despicable bunch extends.”

Ben agreed. “Same route I would choose. I want her on the road this afternoon.”

The two men stared at one other across the hood of the Jeep. “Something, Dan?”

“I feel it is my duty to inform you of something, General.”

Typical British always-do-the-right-thing attitude.

Ben kept a straight face and let Dan plow on. Even though he knew damn well what the man was going to say. “All right, Dan.”

But Ben was only half right.

“As you know, General, I’ve lost some Scouts and am hesitant to pull any regulars out of the city to send with Tina.”

Ben leaned against the fender, puzzled. It was not what he had anticipated hearing. “You take the people you need, Dan. How many do you want? It can’t be many.”

“No, sir, not many. Tina is two short of her usual complement of twenty-five. Of the new replacements just arrived, only two have completed Scout training and they have requested immediate assignments. It is my belief that out there,” he jerked his thumb away from the city, “would be a better place to test them than here in the city.”

“I agree, Dan. OK. What’s the rub?”

Dan looked awfully uncomfortable. He sighed and exhaled slowly. “I am loath to approve their requests, General.”

“Why, Dan?”

“Because one of them is Jerre and the sissy-looking one with her is her boyfriend.”

“Holy shit!” one of West’s mercenaries breathed, looking through binoculars.

“What’s wrong, Curly?” the mercenary leader asked him.

He was called Curly because he was totally bald.

“It’s worse than what we seen over at the Linden Airport, Colonel. Those spooky creepies have destroyed the runways.”

West lifted his field glasses and studied the wreckage.

Great holes had been blown into the concrete; entire sections had been torn loose, rendering the airport useless. West motioned for his radio man to come forward. He lifted the handset from the backpack and started to report in, then hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Colonel?” Curly asked.

West shook his head and replaced the phone.

“Funny feeling. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being monitored.” He waved for his XO.

“Take over here. I’m going over to talk with Ike.” He turned to another mere. “Get a platoon together. Two light tanks. We’re going straight up Ninety-five then cut east across the bridge. Ford, no critical chatter on the air.

Keep it all crap. I’ve got a bad

feeling.”

Dan had walked away, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts. And they were not pleasant ones.

It would be like her, Ben acknowledged. To wave some son of a bitch in his face like a matador’s cape to a bull and then smile that smart-aleck grin and see what took place next.

Ben had told Dan not to worry about it.

If Jerre and her latest heartthrob wanted to join the Scouts, so be it. They needed every breathing soul they could muster.

Dan was dubious, but merely shrugged and said he would take care of it.

Ben smiled grimly. He hoped Jerre didn’t get up in Tina’s face. Tina was a few years younger, but she was tough as a paratrooper’s boot and knew more of that Oriental kung-fu stuff than just about anyone else Ben could name. Except for Dan, who had been Tina’s teacher.

And Jerre wouldn’t have told her current sweetie about Ben. During their time together, she had told him she liked to do that to boys.

Ben had been forced to admit, some years back, that Jerre was a purebred bitch!

Didn’t make any difference, though. It hadn’t changed his feelings; he still loved her.

“Shit!” Ben shouted, turning a dozen heads. He kicked at a can, missed and hit his toe on the curb. He sat down, grabbed his foot, and then proceeded to turn the air coarse with profanity.

It seemed that everybody suddenly found some urgent task that just could not wait.

All except for Jersey. She stood a

few yards away, holding her M-16, watching the antics of her general … and trying very hard to keep a straight face.

West chanced a short coded message to Ike.

Ike radioed back that come hell or high water-or nasties-he’d meet him on the bridge.

“Have any trouble, Ike?” West asked, getting out of his Jeep and walking to the man. They shook hands, two warriors who understood the hard business of war.

“No. And after yesterday, that surprises the hell out of me. You?”

West shook his head. “Not once we got up to the airport. We haven’t seen one ugly. And by the way, the airport is ruined.” He gave him a short report about the runways, then said, “I guess the lack of unfriendlies got me to thinking, Ike. I think we’re being monitored. I think these uglies know every move we’re going to make.”

Ike stuck a lollipop in his mouth-he always had a pocketful of the homemade suckers for the kids-and offered one to West. The mercenary smiled and shook his head.

“That may be what’s been causin’ that uneasy feelin’ of mine, West. We’re gonna have to turn this problem over to Katzman. What he and his bunch don’t know about communications and electronics ain’t been thought of yet.”

“I’ve instructed my people to put nothing vital on the air.”

“I’ll do the same. Let’s ease over and take a boat ride. Break this gut hunch to Ben and lay it all in Katzman’s lap.”

The mercenary turned his head, staring in the direction of Manhattan. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Big Apple. That used to be my favorite city to have a good time. See the shows, the ballet, the opera. I hope we can discover some master tapes of the great singers.”

You never knew, Ike thought. Here was a man of violence, of war, of blood, who loved the classics. You just never knew about people.

“We’ve got our hands full,” Ben told the men.

“Seems like we’re running into more nasties today than yesterday. Every time we turn around we’re hitting pockets of them. So if they are monitoring our frequencies … what are they doing with the information?

How is it affecting the operation?”

“Look out!” a frantic yell cut through the cool afternoon.

The men turned in time to see half a dozen concrete blocks come hurtling down from a rooftop.

One block smashed into a head, ending a Rebel’s life. Another shattered the shoulder of a woman.

Gunfire ripped from the ground level, and several dark-robed figures soaked up the lead. No more objects were thrown from that rooftop.

Returning fire knocked a Rebel spinning and sent the rest of the ground troops diving for cover.

Machine guns began spitting and chugging from the ground, pocking the facade of the building, shattering glass, and momentarily stilling the sniper fire.

A rocket launcher howled, the missile slamming through a window of the building and exploding, showering the street below with debris.

The area fell silent.

“So much for all of the Night People having to avoid the light,” West said, disgust in his voice. He stood up, brushing dirt and dust from his BDU’S.

“I never really believed it was necessary on their part anyway,” Ben replied. “I think it’s more a way of life.”

“Yeah,” Ike said dryly. “Like not takin’ a bath. I think they bathe once a year, whether they need it or not.”

The two women looked at each other. Both their backs were stiff. Tina stepped up and extended her hand. The blonde took it.

“Miss Hunter.”

“Just Jerre.” She looked at the collars of Tina’s battle dress. “I don’t know what to call you. I was told you were a captain.”

“We don’t stand on much formality, Jerre. Tina will

be just fine.” The lady who has my father tied up in knots. I wonder if he’s seen her?

“This is Ian.” Jerre indicated a young man standing just to her left.

“You’re in Sergeant Wilson’s squad,” Ian was informed. “You come with me, Jerre.”

“I had assumed that we would be together,” Ian said.

Tina turned slowly to face the man. Her Uncle Ike had told her once that Jerre seemed to have the ability to twist men around her finger, rendering them down to the level of small boys. “You may assume this, Ian: you take orders from me, and you obey them without question. If you feel incapable of doing that, then carry your ass!”

Ian blinked in surprise; then his hard Scout training took over. He nodded his head. “Yes, Miss Raines. Of course.” He looked

at Sergeant Wilson, squatting down, staring at him. Wilson waggled a finger and Ian obeyed the signal, walking away from Tina and Jerre.

“If he ever again questions an order of mine,” Tina told Jerre, “he’ll be out of this unit in five minutes. Or hurt or dead, if he wants to get physical about it,” she added, a flat tone to the statement.

Jerre shrugged. “We’re friends, Tina. Nothing more.

You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“I don’t know you. I don’t have to like you. As long as you do your job, we’ll get along fine.”

Tina turned and Jerre followed her. “How is the general?”

“The general is fine. A few more gray hairs on his head. A few more bullet scars. Other than that, he’s in as good a physical shape as any man years younger.”

She waited for Jerre to say she’d like to see him.

The

woman made no such request.

Blond-headed bitch! Tina thought, then softened that by reminding herself that she didn’t know much about what had gone on between her father and this woman. Just bits and pieces and rumors. And, she was forced to admit, she was more than a bit prejudiced. They came to Tina’s Jeep and stopped. Tina introduced Jerre to her driver, Sharon.

“She can ride with Pam,” Sharon said, looking at Jerre. “That’s point. You uneasy about that?”

“Not a bit.”

“Fine.” Tina took it. “You all geared up?”

“Yes. Equipment is back at the truck with the others.”

Tina hesitated, then stuck out her hand.

“Welcome to the team, Jerre.”

Jerre smiled and took the hand.

“Oh, look,” Sharon said. “There’s General Raines. I’ll introduce you.”

Tina was watching the woman’s face. Only a very slight narrowing of the eyes gave any indication as to her inner feelings. This should be interesting, she thought, watching as her father walked up, with Ike and West and Dan Gray with him.

Ben didn’t wait for any introductions, not wanting to prolong the meeting. “You’re looking well, Jerre.”

“Thank you, General. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Neither have you, Ben thought. You’re still so damned lovely. “Thank you.” He looked at Tina.

“Where’s the other replacement?”

“With Wilson.”

Ben picked up on the flatness of her tone. “Some conflict?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Ben cut his eyes to Jerre. “These are small teams, Jerre. Each person must depend on the other. If there is something I need to know, say it.”

“Ian was surprised that we were being separated. He opened his mouth before he thought. He … well, has read more into … ah, our relationship than is really there.”

I certainly know that feeling, Ben thought. His gaze went to Tina. “Are you going to be able to get off this afternoon?”

“No, sir. We’ve had some equipment

malfunction. Tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

Damn! Ben silently cursed.

“May I speak with the general in private?” Jerre asked.

West stood silently by. He knew there was something going on here that he didn’t really understand. But he would make it a point to ask Ike. Something between Ben Raines and this woman, he felt sure.

He would tell his men that Jerre was strictly off-limits.

It wouldn’t do for one of his men to try to cozy up to a lady that Raines had his eyes on. Or did he?

West could feel the tension in the air.

The muffled sounds of gunfire drifted to the small group standing in Battery Park.

Jersey stood to one side. She had heard some of the scuttlebutt about the general and this woman. Well, that was the general’s business. Her job was to protect him, not mother him.

“Of course, Miss Hunter.” Ben pointed to a bench some yards away. “Over there.”

Ike started whistling music from South Pacific: “Some Enchanted Evening.”

West looked at the man, a smile playing around his lips. Ike had more brass on his ass than a ship’s bell.

Ben gave Ike a look that would wilt a plastic flower. It bounced off the ex-Seal.

Jerre stood quietly, with Dan wondering if the lady was familiar with that song.

Ike continued whistling.

“Don’t you have something to do?” Ben asked him. “Like fight a war, for instance?”

Ike stopped whistling. “I’m taking a break. The pressure was getting to me.” He resumed his whistling. An old Dolly Parton hit: “I Will Always Love Y.”

Ben muttered under his breath and walked toward the park bench, Jerre following.

“The man just doesn’t appreciate talent when he hears it,” Ike said.

That was too good an opening for Dan to let slide by, since the two men were constantly putting the needle to one another. “Are you all through calling hogs, now?”

Ike said some very uncomplimentary things about Dan while Tina and the mercenary stood laughing at the pained expression on Ike’s face and the smug look on Dan’s face.