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The three passengers exited the plane, sinking into the muddy lake bottom. There was some gear to unload and an exact route to be found. But they had plenty of time to make their way upstream to the Red Wing Airport in time for this weekend’s action.

CHAPTER 39

Friday, August 7th, in and around Red Wing.

The air show was Saturday and Sunday at the Red Wing Airport. I had told Gunner my concerns. He’d agreed to do all he could to step up security at and around the airport. He was going out on a limb for me. And I appreciated it.

The show was a flying museum of World War II era Air Force planes. Actually taking off and landing from the Red Wing airfield there would be — a P51 Mustang fighter, a P40 Warhawk fighter, a four-engine B17 Flying Fortress heavy bomber, a twin-engine B25 Miss Mitchell medium bomber, a four-engine B24 Liberator (affectionately known as the ‘flying boxcar’ because of its large, flat, ugly sides) and a number of other, less famous, vintage warplanes.

Additional appearances would be made by the Blue Angels precision flying team and other jet aircraft. The fly-by appearances were generally made by planes that could not safely takeoff or land at Red Wing due to the length of the runway.

Airplane enthusiasts would descend on the Red Wing Airport for the weekend. Some would fly their own planes into neighboring airports today. But most would drive. In any case, the skies over Red Wing and the rest of the Mississippi valley promised to be alive with air traffic for the next two days.

I would have enjoyed the show myself, if I didn’t have other things on my mind.

CHAPTER 40

Friday, August 7th, at the Ottawa County farm.

Friday evening out on the farm, John, Urland, Farris and even Brenda were loading the steel containers of potassium into the back of a black Ford pickup. The pickup had a white hard-shell topper, so it would be difficult for anyone to see its unusual cargo. Everyone was being extra careful.

All nineteen containers fit fine. John found some boards and a few blankets and arranged the containers tightly together on the pickup bed. He didn’t want any shifting or tipping during transport.

When the potassium had all been loaded, John carefully placed several large, military green satchels in the very back of the truck box, segregated from the potassium cans by the wood and soft materials.

Everyone promised not to touch anything on the truck bed without John’s approval. No one wanted the product of all their work to climax prematurely. And most of them didn’t want to die, at least not yet.

They left Farris’s car hidden at the farm. Urland drove his Buick. Farris drove John’s Chevy. John drove the pickup with its precious cargo. They were headed to what John called the ‘staging area.’ Urland would follow John. Farris would follow Urland. Everyone would take great care to obey all traffic laws en route.

They started their respective vehicles and rolled slowly down the dirt driveway. A minute later, the small convoy turned left onto the gravel public road and headed toward Red Wing.

Half-a-mile up the road, in the dusky light of sunset, a neighboring farmer observed the passing of the unusual parade from his front porch. Turning his head to one side, he spat brown juice into a coffee can.

CHAPTER 41

Saturday, August 8th, on Jefferson Avenue.

I woke up early Saturday morning. The sun was barely lightening the starry eastern sky outside our bedroom window. I was lying on my left side, watching Beth sleep. She was on her right side, facing me. Her fine, straight, sandy-blonde hair draped seductively across her left cheek.

I appreciated the curve of her neck, the soft tan skin on her bare shoulder, the little pout her lips made as she slept.

Her eyes popped open, as if she had sensed me watching her.

"It’s early," she said sleepily, rolling onto her back.

She stretched both arms, arching her back and shrugging the sheet off her trim torso, exposing the pink cotton tank top, pulled taut over her athletic body. As she stretched, the top slipped up, showing off an inch or so of silky skin above her pajama bottoms. I fully appreciated the view, as I always do.

"Beth?"

"Um hmm?"

"Something very bad may well happen this weekend at the nuclear plant. Everyone is going to do their best to stop it. But there are enough unknowns that there is no guarantee it can be stopped.

"If something bad does happen, I don’t want you to be in Red Wing. I want you to drive somewhere to the west. Hang out with friends in Mankato. Or check into a hotel for the next few days and explore some new stores.

"The girls are all right at their west coast internships. But it’s not safe for you to stay here in town."

Beth had been listening while lying on her back, eyes closed. Now she rolled to face me, her head resting blissfully on her pillow, eyes open and calm.

"Babe. I’m not running away from Red Wing. I’m staying here with you."

"That’s part of why you might as well leave," I argued. "You’re not going to see much of me this weekend, even if you stay. Bull and I are helping with security at the air show."

Beth smiled. "Does Gunner know that?"

"He will… sooner or later. I’m sure he just forgot to invite us to the party."

She laughed, rolling over on top of me and forcing me onto my back. She was now on her knees, one leg on each side of my pelvis, her upper body braced on straight arms. She gazed deeply into my eyes — or maybe it was the other way around.

"I’m not running from terrorists, Babe." She leaned down and kissed me, a long wonderful kiss. I ran my hands up her strong back, pulling the tank top with them. She shook her hair in my face playfully.

Somehow our pajamas wound up on the floor. And we appreciated one another even more.

CHAPTER 42

Still Saturday, August 8th, in and around Red Wing.

The air show was slated to officially commence at 9:00 a.m., but I could hear planes humming over Jefferson Avenue beginning at 7:00. It was now 7:30. I had showered and dressed. Beth had showered, but she was draped in her pink satin robe. We were still in our bedroom.

Beth and I faced each other, my hands resting lightly on her hips, hers on my back.

"If I don’t leave right now, you’re going to drag me back into bed, aren’t you?" I said.

"I don’t recall having to drag you anywhere just a while ago."

"Okay," I said, pulling away from her gently, but with purpose. "A good part of me would absolutely like to stay here, if I could."

"I bet I know which part."

"Okay. Okay. I gotta go." I kissed her briefly on the lips. "Don’t know when I’ll be home. And I might need to have my cell off sometimes. So don’t worry."

She held my face in both hands. "Be safe," she said, looking back and forth between my eyes for assurance that I would do so.

"You know me, Beth. I never take unnecessary risks."

"I know," Beth said. "It’s the necessary ones I’m worried about."

"I’ll be safe," I said.

With that, I forced myself to leave.

As I drove my Pilot the approximately five miles to the airport, I tried to focus myself for the day. I hadn’t brought my gun. Security probably wouldn’t let me on the airport premises if I were armed. Or some FBI goon might see my gun and overreact by shooting me.