If Gretchen said anything by way of a reply I didn’t hear it. What we all did hear was the sound of engines and some of us moved back, away from the gate. An APC came through the gate first, followed by another. Both were flying UN banners from their radio whip antennas. Then came a black SUV of some sort with a blue flag that looked like the flag of New York state flying from its radio antenna, and that was followed by a black Cadillac with tinted windows. Three more APCs brought up the rear of the little convoy, and then, overhead, four helicopters circled in a wide sweep. All had weapons of some sort, either protruding from the open doorways on the side or in pods slung underneath.
Peter leaned toward me and shouted over the engine noise. ‘Not a bad little display, eh?’
‘Trying to prove something?’ I shouted back.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Wanting to let the militias know the firepower that’s out there, in case the armistice talks don’t finish up. But it’s all for show. All for show. By the end of the day, peace will be upon this land once again.’
The helicopters hovered for a while and then flew off, lowering the noise level considerably. Miriam’s arm was still linked through mine and I said, ‘What kind of peace? They’ll still be digging up bodies and bones for the next decade.’
‘Sure they will,’ Peter said. ‘But this expensive intervention by NATO forces will be over, the United States will be welcomed back into the ranks of civilized nations, and the true business of this planet — feeding the hunger of the transnational corporations, led by the biggest economic power in the world—will resume. That is, if they decide to reengage with the world.’
And then Peter looked at me, with a gaze that said much more would go on: that the true story of how this country had been crippled and who was behind it may still stay secret for a long time to come.
Miriam said, ‘If I stay with you any longer, Peter, I’m afraid I’ll become as cynical as you.’
Peter smirked, a look that once would have angered me but now just looked right. ‘Miriam, if you stay with me any longer, perhaps this boy won’t interest you any more.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, I doubt that.’
I loved what she had just said, and I also loved the look on Peter’s face, which was why I missed the first few seconds of the paramilitaries emerging from their two vehicles. The SUV had guards of a sort, but the word must have-come down from somewhere, because their guns were slung over their shoulders rather than held at the ready. All four doors to the Cadillac opened up, and as well as the driver four militia types got out, a woman and three men. They had no weapons, and their uniforms were clean and pressed. One of them came around to look at us, a guy in his late thirties with a closely trimmed beard. I looked at him and he looked at me, and I actually felt my knees sag as though the ligaments and muscles there had just turned into taffy.
He smiled and called out, ‘Hey, Samuel! Good to see you!’
Peter and Miriam looked at me, and Peter was the first to ask: ‘Samuel, do you know that man? Was he one of your captors?’
I kept on looking at that comfortable-looking and happy face. ‘No, worse than that,’ I said.
Miriam asked, ‘How could have it been worse?’
I shook my head. ‘He was a cellmate.’
And sure enough, walking over to greet me was Gary Nealon, supposed schoolteacher and fellow prisoner, now wearing the familiar militia uniform — with stars on his collars.
There was a tussle of sorts when some of the Polish soldiers got between us as I went over to see him. But then there was some talking back and forth and I made it to the Cadillac as Gary’s three companions talked to a couple of UN suits. Gary was smiling widely, looking me up and down.
‘Man, you look pretty good,’ he said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘You bastard,’ I said.
‘Nope, my birth certificate’s all in order,’ he said. ‘Can you say the same?’
I think I would have taken another few steps forward and started strangling him had it not been for the sharp-eyed militia guards who were keeping watch on me, and the equally sharp-eyed Polish troops keeping watch on the guards.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I can say the same. You son of a bitch, you were a plant, weren’t you? A plant to get information from me.’
Gary’s eyes were bright and shiny. ‘Very good, Samuel. Boy, you must be a smart one to have figured that out right now, with me standing right in front of you. Tell me, you still make a list each year for Santa Claus? You didn’t have a clue, did you, young fella, all those hours in the school bus. I had to put up with a cold mattress and bad food, all to see if I could plumb that eager young idealistic—and eventually empty—mind. The things I do for my people as head of intelligence.’
My fists were clenched. ‘Like killing their neighbors?’
‘Like protecting them, that’s what, when the feds and the state couldn’t do a damn thing when the hordes started streaming in,’ Gary said, looking around him. ‘Our real neighbors were protected. We took care of the trespassers. Nobody else could do it so we stepped up to the plate and got the job done. Boy, look at all the angry faces out there. You’d think they lived here or something.’
‘What do you mean?’
He smirked, and even with the armed men keeping an eye on us I wanted to punch out his lights so bad I could taste it. Gary said, ‘Look at all of them, parading around. Foreigners. Like they belong here. Get a good look, Samuel, ‘cause by this time tomorrow this group will be heading out.’
‘Some of those people are Americans, working for the UN,’ I said.
‘Then they’re not true Americans, are they?’
‘Jesus, you jerk, what the hell was that all about, back at the school bus?’ I demanded, stepping closer to him, even getting a whiff of cologne from him.
‘What do you think?’ he shot back. ‘Intelligence gathering, that’s what.’
‘From me?’
‘Sure,’ Gary said. ‘What do you think, anybody’s going to believe your story, that you were just a lost, innocent UN worker, wandering around the landscape? Do you?’
‘That was the truth, and you know it.’
Another laugh, another urge from me to punch him out. ‘Sure you were, and I was convinced you were something else. You did pretty good with Colonel Saunders and his boys, but let me tell you, if you’d stayed there one more day, then it would have gotten real rough. Think you would have been able to maintain a cover story if they brought out the knives and broken glass?’
I remembered what Peter had done, looking for me, and I said, ‘I imagine Colonel Saunders and his boys had more important things to worry about. Like a NATO air strike coming down their throats.’
Gary laughed. ‘So your little cover story continues, eh? Not half-bad. Here’s a newsflash for you, supposed ex-reporter Samuel. Colonel Saunders and his crew are fine, just fine.’
Something acidy burned at the back of my throat. Peter. Had he been lying all along? Even now? But Gary went on and said, ‘After you bailed out the whole camp was moved. We knew you were there to gather intelligence. Maybe you even had a GPS device up your ass, for all we knew. So after you broke out, Samuel, the base camp did the same, before your brave pilots came in at ten thousand feet to kill men and women and children armed with rifles. Still, I have to admire you for keeping to your cover story for so long.’
‘And everything about you was a cover story too, right? Schoolteacher with a conscience.’