He found his CAR and wiped the dust from it, then took two grenades from the dead man and several full magazines of .223"s. There was nothing else on the man that Ben could use. He rested for a few more minutes and then moved out, heading south.
Ben had heard the very faint sounds of a lot of gunfire since leaving the Rebel outpost. The Feds and the Rebels had locked horns a number of times. He had no way of knowing which side had been victorious, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was not his Rebels.He continued walking.
Ben caught a few hours sleep from about 3:00 A.M. until six. Then he was on the move once more. It had been a restless sleep, for the sounds of helicopters had awakened him a dozen times. Just as daylight was spreading over the 59.59.land, he climbed a low hill and took a look around. What he saw was not at all encouraging.
He was surrounded. There appeared to be no way out for him, and the Federal troops all seemed to be facing in his direction. They had him pinpointed.
Ben backed up and looked around, finding some good size rocks and several small logs. He tugged and rolled the rocks and logs into a makeshift barricade, occasionally looking around. The Feds were all moving in his direction.
Ben took his handy-talkie from the pouch and keyed the mic. "This is the Eagle. Anybody listening?"
Corrie"s familiar voice touched his ear. "Right here, Boss."
"Are you secure, Corrie?"
"Ten-four, Boss. We"re in Rebel territory and holding."
"Can you tape this?"
"Affirmative, Boss. Taping."
"Tell Ike he"s in charge of it all. I"ve had it. I"ve got maybe three or four hundred Feds moving in on me, and probably more on the way. I"m not sure exactly where I am. For the Rebels to try any type of rescue would be nothing but a suicide mission. Don"t try it. Understood?"
"Affirmative, Boss."
"I"m going to give them one h.e.l.l of a fight, but there is no way I can win. You copy all that?"
After a short pause, Corrie said in a choked voice, "Affirmative, Boss."
"I"m not going to be taken alive. Not if I can help it. And I don"t have time to get maudlin here. The SUSA forever. Let that be your battle cry.
Understood?"
"Ten-four, Boss."
"Is the team all right?"
"Affirmative."
"Anna?""She"s OK, Boss. None of us were hit."
60.William W. Johnstone "Not much else to say, Gang. The Feds are at the base of the hill and moving in on me. The SUSA forever. Forever!"" Corrie was crying.
"Affirmative, Boss." "Good luck to you all. Eagle out."
61.Ben chunked a grenade over the edge of the hill and smiled when it exploded.
The Feds opened fire from all sides, the lead howling and ricocheting all around him.
"Come and get me, you miserable socialistic a.s.sholes," Ben muttered.
"But, G.o.dd.a.m.n you all, when you do I"ll take some of you with me."
Several Feds on the north side of the hill charged Ben"s position. When they reached the crest they were met with half a magazine of .223 rounds. Scratch four Feds.
After half an hour of give and take, the Federal fire abruptly ceased.
"Now what?" Ben said to the cloudy sky and the increasing winds.
A shout reached Ben. "General Raines! This is General Berman. Give this up, Raines. You can"t get off that hill. There is no escape for you."
62."Berman, you mercenary p.r.i.c.k!" Ben said. He took a deep breath and shouted, "Come and get me!"
"Don"t be a fool, Ben!" Berman shouted. "Give it up."
"So Madam President Osterman can hang me? I"d rather go out with a bullet right here on this hill."
"Well, that"s not going to happen. We"re going to take you alive, I promise you that. You might be banged up some, but I can guarantee you will be alive. Think about that before we begin the a.s.sault."
Tear gas or pepper gas, Ben thought. That"s what they"re going to use.
And a gas mask was something Ben did not have.
Ben wriggled around in his small shelter and took a quick look in all directions. He sighed as he ducked back down. Must be at least three hundred Feds surrounding the small hill.
No thoughts of surrender entered Ben"s mind. The Feds might overpower him, but it would be only after a fight.
Then Ben heard the unmistakable pop of a gas canister launcher. "Here we go," he muttered.
He quickly wet a handkerchief and placed it over his face just as thecanister hit the top of the hill and the gas began spreading. After that there must have been a dozen more pops in a very brief time. The air became choked with fumes, and in a few seconds Ben was unable to see.
"s.h.i.t!" he coughed out just as he heard bootsteps running toward him.
Something slammed into the front of his head, and Ben"s world turned to darkness.
When he awakened he found himself cuffed and chained, the metal bonds around his wrists and ankles. He did not have to open his eyes to know he was on the floor of a plane, a big prop job-four engine, Ben figured, from the sound of it. C-130, probably.
63.63.He did not know how long he"d been out, but it seemed as though it had been hours. He concluded the blow on the head had been followed by some sort of chemical injection to ensure his staying unconscious.
He cracked his eyelids and was not surprised to find boots filling his vision-a long row of them. Berman was taking no chances. Ben was under heavy guard. He felt his left shirtsleeve jerked up, and the lash of a needle. Seconds later, he was once again enveloped in darkness.
When he woke again, it was quiet. Daylight was streaming through a window set high up off the floor. Ben moved his hands and feet. The chains were gone. He tried to sit up, but did not have the strength to make it. He moved his head and blinked his eyes. Well, at least he could do that much.
Then he realized he was in a bed.
He shook his head, and that hurt! He summoned all his strength and managed to sit up, his feet on the floor. His bare feet. No boots, no socks. He looked down at his legs. His BDUs were gone. He was dressed in pajamas. Green ones.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he looked around the room. One window, too far off the floor for him to see out of. A very st.u.r.dy looking door-closed, and locked, Ben figured. A metal, three drawer dresser set against one wall. A sink, also metal. A commode, metal.
Sure as h.e.l.l not a luxury hotel.
He inspected the walls and ceiling. Bare. No mirrors and no camera to monitor his moves.
Ben decided to try to stand. He failed the first try and fell back on the bed, made it on the second try. He stood for a moment, swaying until he got his balance. Then he tried to walk, and fell down hard on die floor.
Ben lay on the cold tile for a moment, silently cussing.
64.He forced himself to his knees, then managed to get to his feet and stay there. d.a.m.n, but he was weak.He took a couple of hesitant steps and did not fall. "Wonderful," Ben muttered. "I am certainly making progress."
He walked back to the bed and sat down, resting for a couple of minutes.
During that time he again visually inspected his surroundings, looking for anything he might use as a weapon. There was nothing.
He walked over to the sink and turned on the cold water. Bathing his face several times, he felt better. Then he cupped his hands and drank deeply.
He stared at the window longingly, wishing he could see out, get some idea where he was. He gave that up. Might as well wish for . . . what?
Well, at least he was still alive, and not dangling from the end of a rope. That would come soon enough. Osterman would probably personally tighten the noose herself, smiling all the while. Miserable b.i.t.c.h!
Ben began slowly walking around and around the interior of the small room, feeling his strength slowly return. He still didn"t feel like running any foot races, but he was getting better.
And hungry. d.a.m.n, but he was hungry. Then he knew he was getting better, thinking about food. He instinctively glanced down at his watch-or where it used to be. It was gone, of course.
He drank some more water and felt better, glanced upward out the high-set window. The sun didn"t seem as bright, but it was high in the heavens. Not as strong, rather than not as bright. Ben suddenly got the impression he was a long way from Tennessee.
North! The word jumped into his brain. He was far north. Somehow he was sure of that.
Ben heard a key clink in the lock. He turned just as 65.65.the door opened. Several men stood there, one of them General Walt Berman.
"You do get around, don"t you?" Ben said.
Berman smiled. "Yes, I do. How do you feel?"
"I"m not a hundred percent yet. But getting there."
"Hungry?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, we brought you a tray of food. It"s nothing fancy, but it is good food. And we eat the same thing, by the way."
"Thanks."
"Think nothing of it."
"Where am I being held?"Berman stared at him for a few seconds, then shrugged. "I can"t see where that would hurt anything, Ben. You d.a.m.n sure can"t get out. You"re in upstate New York. This facility used to be a state hospital for the insane. Insane probably isn"t a politically correct term, but I"m not much into that liberal c.r.a.p."
"What time is it?"
"About noon. Lunchtime. Here is your food. Enjoy the meal."
A tray was brought in, placed on the dresser. The guard carefully backed out. Berman gave Ben a mock salute and closed the door.
Ben heard the lock click with a very secure sound.
He carried his tray over to the bunk and looked at the food. Thick portions of ham (already cut up into bite-size pieces), generous helpings of mashed sweet potatoes and corn (in separate compartments), two slices of bread, two pats of b.u.t.ter (probably oleo) a piece of apple pie, a large mug of coffee, two packets of sugar, a packet of instant creamer.
"Not bad," Ben muttered, picking up the plastic fork and digging in.
66.William W.Johnstone The food was good, and Ben ate every bite and then drank the coffee. He wished he had a cigarette to go with it. "Wonder if I"ll get a smoke before they hang me," he muttered.
Ben took the tray and walked over to the door. He tapped on it. "I"m finished. You want the tray?"
"Back away from the door," a man ordered. "I"ll lower the flap in the center of the door."
Ben backed away. "I"m back. Still holding the tray."
The flap banged open. "Put the tray on the flap."
"You got a cigarette?" Ben asked, placing the tray on the metal flap.
"Sure. I"ll have to light it for you."
"No problem. I appreciate it."
"Back up, away from the door."
Ben again backed up, and watched as a lighted cigarette was placed on the flap.
"OK. Pick it up."
Ben snagged the smoke and backed up. "Thanks, buddy."
Ben sat on the floor, his back to a wall, and smoked the cigarette. He enjoyed every puff. While he smoked he visually inspected the ceiling and walls. He could detect no sign of hidden cameras or microphones.There was no mirror in the room, so that let out a two-way.
Ben got up and tried to move the bunk. It was securely bolted to the floor, and so was the dresser. The bolts were shiny new.
He tried one with his fingers. "Well, you can forget that," he muttered, after straining and only succeeding in skinning his fingers.
He wondered when his interrogation would start. He did not have long to wonder.
About a half hour after lunch, the door swung open- outward. Ben made a mental note of that. The hall seemed 67.67.to be filled with men. None of them were armed, but they all carried the old style police nightsticks.
"All right, General," one said. "Time for your meeting with General Berman."
"I"m all aquiver with antic.i.p.ation."
The man laughed. "No need to be. We don"t go in for physical torture.