No. There was a whole lot more to these Fletchers than met the eye—and he planned to kill every single one of them. Nobody fucked with Eli Russell like this and got away with it. He’d find a way. One of them liked to drive around in a Jeep and cavort with government forces? Sounded like a perfect target for his initial string of attacks.
“Liberty Actual, this is the Liberty Gate. I have two vehicles requesting permission to enter the compound. One containing McCulver and Brown. The other with the escort team. The road looks clear in both directions.”
He grabbed the handheld radio perched on the wide railing in front of him.
“Did you say Brown? Jeff Brown?”
“Affirmative.”
“Did the escort team search the passengers and vehicles thoroughly at the school?”
“Affirmative. No obvious tracking devices. McCulver’s back seat is packed with electronics, which might be worth a second look.”
“It doesn’t matter at this point. Send them on up.”
“Copy. Sending two vehicles your way.”
Eli thought about it for a second. How the hell could Brown have turned up this quickly? Brown would have put some distance between himself and Gelder Pond, staying hidden until things settled. He couldn’t imagine Brown having moved more than a mile or two from the site of the attack, in either direction—and McCulver had no reason to swing that close to Limerick. After leaving the Ossipee Valley Fairgrounds in Porter, McCulver headed east to Route 25, where he’d logically take Route 117 south and work his way around Limerick to reach his home in Hollis. If their stories didn’t make sense, he was pulling the plug on both of them, along with the farm. He hoped it didn’t come to that. He needed both of them.
A gray Suburban, followed closely by a red, four-door sedan, emerged from the distant tree break and raced toward the house, casting long shadows over the green field. A low dust cloud followed the convoy, illuminated by the deep amber rays of sunlight peeking over the western trees.
“Viper One. I want you visible when these cars stop. Don’t crowd us, but make your presence known.”
“Roger. We’ll keep our distance.”
Eli stepped onto the hard ground with his rifle and signaled for the vehicles to continue on the jeep trail that disappeared behind the house. A minute later, he met them in the grassy, makeshift parking lot next to the jeep trail. Viper One, the four men from Bertelson’s squad, appeared between the house and the barn, staying in the shadow cast by the barn. McCulver stepped onto the jeep trail with Brown, who looked unperturbed by the day’s events. The escort team, consisting of two heavily armed men, walked discreetly toward the barn.
He eyed Brown for signs of distress. The man remained impassive, as always. McCulver looked edgy, but that wasn’t unusual either. Upon first impression, nothing looked out of place. Brown’s AR-10 was slung over his shoulder, and McCulver appeared unarmed. Maybe he was being paranoid.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” he said, extending a hand to Brown. “Glad to see your face, though I’m a little surprised to see it so soon.”
Brown shook his hand firmly. “Lucky day, I suppose.”
“Can’t wait to hear your report,” he said, turning to McCulver. “Did Jeff show up at your doorstep? You sure as shit better not have driven back to Limerick.”
“I finished up at my house around 3:45. Figured I might swing close enough to try the handheld. Brown answered on the first call. Picked him up near the Chesterton Farm just outside of town.”
“So you drove through Limerick.”
“The roads were empty,” said McCulver.
“Damn lucky nobody stopped you.”
He was glad McCulver hadn’t run into any trouble. His explosives expertise was irreplaceable. If they couldn’t hit the government head on, as the Gelder Pond encounter had painfully demonstrated, they’d have to rely on the same kind of tactics proven effective against U.S. forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. Improvised Explosive Devices (IED) and isolated ambushes. Still, he was pissed off that he had taken the risk. Driving that close to Limerick didn’t show good judgment, not to mention the fact that they’d been out joyriding.
“So, where the hell have you two been for three hours?” asked Eli.
“Since I had Brown, I thought we’d visit Southern Maine Drilling and Blasting in Windham.”
“You did not drive into Windham.”
“Eli, there’s nobody on the roads, and SMDB is south of town—for a good reason. Most of that reason is sitting in the back of the Suburban. You’re gonna be really happy about my little side trip,” said McCulver, motioning toward the SUV.
Standing behind the Suburban, Eli had one more moment of doubt as McCulver grabbed the handle to open the hatch. What if they had somehow smuggled commandos onto the ground in the back of the truck? Maybe the men guarding the entrance along Norton Hill Road had made their transmission under gunpoint? His eyes darted to the security team near the house.
“Jesus, Eli. Really?” said McCulver, opening the truck’s gate.
Wood crates filled the spacious cargo compartment, stenciled with chemical names that looked sinister, but meant nothing to Eli.
“I couldn’t believe they left this stuff unguarded. Slurry explosives, perfect for setting off bigger bombs or making concealable explosives. I found other stuff too, like dynamite, blasting caps, det cord, detonators, even a little C4. All just sitting there for the taking.”
Eli grinned, no longer mad at McCulver. He’d been wrong. His second in command had shown excellent initiative.
“This is exactly the kind of stuff we’ll need for the upcoming fight. This may sound like sacrilege, but now I know how the insurgents must have felt in Iraq. They couldn’t beat our troops in a face-to-face battle, so they resorted to IEDs, isolated ambushes and targeted sniper operations. The Taliban did the same thing. We have to come up with a list of materials essential to fighting a guerrilla war and start assembling a stockpile—before Uncle Sam gets smart and shuts down our access. I’d say we have a week, probably less. Same goes for our recruitment efforts. Let’s hit Fryeburg, Bridgton and Naples tomorrow. We only look north of here.”
“We’re more or less strangers in those parts,” said McCulver.
“We’ll just have to get acquainted with the good folks of Oxford and Cumberland counties. If we run into trouble rounding up volunteers, we’ll start grabbing folks. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t mind dipping south for that. We can start spreading rumors that the government is kidnapping people.”
“I’m not sure kidnapping is a good idea. I’d be concerned about loyalty,” said McCulver.
“They’ll come around once they see what we’re trying to accomplish. If not, they can work on the farm. We’ll need a ton of help getting this harvested.”
“Was it abandoned?”
“I served a few eviction notices,” said Eli, patting his holster.
“I’ll need some help getting this stuff offloaded,” McCulver said. “Best place to store it will be in a basement. Everything but the dynamite is highly stable.”
“There’s a gigantic root cellar attached to the barn. North side. Cool as a cucumber in there,” he said, waving his security detail over.
“Perfect. Hate to blow up the house,” McCulver said with his back turned.
Kevin’s statement bothered him. Blowing Eli to pieces in his sleep solved most of the government’s problems. Without his leadership, the men would throw down their weapons at the first sight of a tactical vehicle. He stared at the back of Kevin’s head as his deputy commander started to offload some of the smaller containers. The man had been alone today for the better part of six hours. He’d have to keep an eye on his old friend.