Tilson nodded eagerly. “Yes, Judge, I do.”
“Excellent! We’re of a mind then. Mr. Hunter will work with you to make all of the necessary arrangements. But, before you go, I have a gift for you.”
Ramsey pressed a button and a man entered the office a few seconds later. He was small of stature, wore his hair parted in the middle of his head, and looked at Tilson through a pair of round lenses that were perched on the end of his nose. “This is Doctor Haffey. And if you would be so kind as to roll up a sleeve, he’s going to vaccinate you against the Chimeran virus. More than that, he’s going to send you home with a dose for each member of your immediate family. Just one of the benefits that will accrue to the citizens of the New American Empire.”
“Thank you,” Tilson said gratefully, as he rolled a sleeve up. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Ramsey replied indulgently. “And one more thing…”
“Yes?”
“If you take care of me, I’ll take care of you.” Tilson winced as the needle went in. “You can count on it.”
Ramsey nodded. “I will.”
Snow slanted down as Capelli and Rowdy slipped into a dark shadow. They paused there, and when he was certain that he hadn’t been followed, Capelli aimed a penlight at the clock tower. The signal was answered by two blips of light.
It was clear, so the twosome dashed across the open plaza and slipped into the bank. In less than half a minute they had pawed a pile of debris out of the way. The steel trapdoor was locked, just as it was supposed to be. Capelli made use of his rifle butt to rap on it three times. Then, having placed his mouth over a twisted piece of pipe, he gave the password. Metal squealed as two lock bars were withdrawn and a rectangle of buttery light appeared.
Rowdy was used to the trapdoor by then, so Capelli heard someone swear as eighty pounds of wet dog landed in her arms. But no one got hurt. Rowdy was on the floor shaking himself dry as Capelli arrived at the bottom of the ladder. “That dog smells worse than a Chimera,” Katy Morris complained, wrinkling her nose.
“Tell me about it,” Capelli replied, shrugging his pack off. “I had to sleep with him for three days.”
“Which raises the subject of your odor,” Susan said primly, as she entered the room and came over to kiss him on the cheek. “I heard you were back.”
Capelli feigned surprise. “Me? I’m fresh as a daisy.”
“Come on,” Susan said, taking hold of Rowdy’s collar. “It’s time for a bath.”
The couple left the ladder room for a corridor that led past the bank vault, which now served as the town’s arsenal. And when Capelli walked past the open door he could see the racks of weapons that lined both walls, as well as the narrow workbench that ran down the center of the rectangular space. That was where Kosmo was busy putting an Auger back together. He waved as the Capellis passed by.
The image of more than fifty gleaming weapons should have been comforting. Especially given that there were at least that many racked in homes or kept close at hand throughout the community. But Capelli was painfully aware of the fact that the arsenal was barely adequate to meet Haven’s growing needs, never mind those of the alliance the council hoped to create.
Susan eyed him as they followed a succession of lanterns down a side tunnel towards the public baths. “No luck, huh?”
Capelli shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Most of Kaw City is still standing, but it looked as though there had been a major battle at the police station, and you can guess how that turned out. So I came up empty. Whatever weapons the boys in blue originally had are gone.”
She nodded understandingly. “Don’t feel badly. It was a long shot. Everyone knew that. Besides, I’ve got what might be a lead.”
“Good,” Capelli said, as they entered what had been the basement of the local five-and-dime. “We’re due for a break.”
With the help of a convergence of pipes and a functional boiler, the space had been converted into showers plus six bathtub-equipped enclosures. “You haven’t been around to use your allotment of hot water, and I saved mine,” Susan said as she tied Rowdy to a vertical pipe.
Capelli brightened. “You mean …?”
“Yes, I do. Followed by dinner in our start.”
Capelli looked around the steamy room. A man was singing on the other side of a plywood partition and a child was putting up a fuss somewhere close by. “That sounds good. But what about the neighbors?”
“Try not to make as much noise as you usually do,” Susan said sweetly. Then, having taken Capelli by the hand, she towed him into one of the enclosures, and closed the door behind them. Clean towels were waiting.
During the next half-hour Capelli discovered that the hot water felt good, as did his wife’s soap-slippery skin. It was good to be home.
Later that night, after an absolutely delicious dinner of Vienna sausages and baked beans, the two of them sat side-by-side on their big four-poster bed. A literal steal from a house on the edge of town.
“Look at this,” Susan said as she handed Capelli a package wrapped in a piece of oilskin. “Tell me what you think.”
Once he’d unwrapped the notebook, the first thing Capelli noticed was the nicely executed drawing of a VTOL on the front cover and the name Suzy Q directly below it. “Lt. Tom Larson” was inscribed across the bottom in military-style block letters.
Capelli had seen dozens of similar notebooks over the last few years. Some of them functioned as diaries, others as sketchbooks, but most were quite utilitarian. That seemed to be the case with this one. Among other things, it contained a hand-drawn chart that showed how much fuel the Suzy Q could be expected to consume while carrying various payloads. It included a crew roster too, notes from briefings, and an unfinished letter to a girl named Betsy.
But the most interesting page, to Capelli’s eye anyway, was the very last one. It was decorated with what might have been a splotch of dried blood, the words “Ordnance 6,000 lbs,” and a string of numbers. Because of Capelli’s military background, he recognized them as coordinates. He looked up and found that Susan’s eyes were waiting to make contact with his. “Where did you get this?”
“It was lying under a partial skeleton,” she replied. “We found it on a hunting trip two days ago. His bones were scattered about. Dogs, probably. But I found these near the book and the remnants of a uniform.”
When Susan opened her hand, Capelli saw a dog tag with the name Larson on it and a pair of badly tarnished wings. “So the notebook was his, and judging from the last entry, his VTOL was loaded with weapons when it went down.”
Susan nodded. Her eyes were shining.
“And the coordinates?”
“I looked them up.”
Capelli smiled. “I’m not surprised.”
“So, are you going to ask?”
“Yeah, I am. Where did the Suzy Q go down?”
“About twenty-five miles east of here,” Susan replied. “That’s the good news.”
“And the bad news?”
“That’s inside the Osage reservation. And they don’t like uninvited visitors. That’s what Mr. Potter says, anyway.”
“Then we’ll have to arrange for an invitation,” Capelli responded. “Because this could be what we’re looking for.”
“So, I did good?”
“You did real good.”
“Does that mean I get a reward?”
Capelli saw the look in her eye. “Again?”
“What? You aren’t man enough?”
“Come here,” Capelli said and Susan obeyed. The dog tag and the wings made a rattling sound as they hit the wooden floor.