Moms decided on Nightstalker Lite to start, with heavy looming.
She made this decision for several reasons. First, the exact threat was unknown. They had Burns, or whatever Burns was, out there. But no Fireflies, as far as they knew. No Rift, although Burns did have the laptop from the Gateway Rift.
And, being honest with herself as she pulled up to Scout’s house, there was the Scout factor. Coming in heavy was disruptive, to say the least. And what Moms had planned was going to be rough enough on the kid’s family.
Moms parked the government car that had been waiting for her at Knoxville Airport, just five miles away. The airport was going to be their Tactical Operations Center, a hangar of the National Guard already having been commandeered, and that was where some of the heavy would be arriving.
It was late in the day, the sun hanging low in the west, just above the tree line. Lights were on in the windows of the house and Moms had noted the new construction in the housing development.
At least it wasn’t a gated community like Senator’s Club in North Carolina. That had been a pain in the ass. But this openness of the former farmland turned development didn’t thrill her. Lots of fields of fire for the bad guys, if there were any bad guys out there who wanted to shoot at her. Scout’s house was on a dead-end street, and Moms felt naked driving along the road, exposed to the entire area and the high ground across the river.
She was wearing a smart business suit for the moment, part of Nightstalker Lite. And something they’d included in their gear after having to improvise in Senators Club. She walked up to the door and pressed the small button. A chime sounded, loud enough she heard it through the door, some classical notes she couldn’t place but was sure Eagle could. A bit much for a doorbell, she thought. Then again, living in shotgun shack, the sheriff damn near broke your door in just knocking on it. A doorbell was a luxury that was pretty low on the priority list where Moms grew up. And visitors usually wanted something, like the title to the land.
The door swung open and a man wearing a sweater stood there, reading glasses perched on his nose. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Hello,” Moms said, taking a step forward. Lite didn’t have to mean slow.
“What—” the man began, but Moms slapped him on the side of the neck, short needle hidden between two fingers, and then caught him as he collapsed. She laid him out and then switched out the needle for a fresh one.
“Who is it, dear?” a woman’s voice echoed from somewhere inside the house.
The acoustics were terrible and Moms wondered why three people needed such a big house. Of course, it was smaller than Scout’s house in Senator’s Club, which they’d commandeered for their base of operations.
Moms waited and then heard footsteps.
“Dear?” The voice was already tinged with fear and Moms wondered how such a woman gave birth to Scout. She already didn’t like her from the little Scout had said about her. Moms immediately felt a rush of guilt for even thinking that and knew there were deeper—
A rail-thin woman came around one of the many corridors branching off the foyer and Moms strode forward.
“Who are—” the woman began; then she ducked as Moms slapped at her with the needle. Give her some points for speed.
Scout’s mother darted right, racing down a hallway.
“Frak,” Moms muttered as she took chase.
“Greer!” Scout’s mother screamed. “Get out! There’s a crazy woman here!”
Moms raced after the voice, noting out of the corner of her eye that the alarm had been triggered.
Which meant nothing since Ms. Jones already had this area isolated electronically.
Okay, Moms was beginning to get where parts of Scout came from as she turned another corner into the kitchen and Scout’s mother swung a butcher knife at her. Moms sidestepped, avoiding being sliced open.
It was close. Too close.
Then Moms pivoted, sensing someone behind her. Scout was standing there, an ax in her hands, ready to strike; then recognition flooded her face. “Moms?”
Moms jumped back again as Scout’s mother jabbed, almost gutting her. But this opened her up to a strike, and Moms slapped the needle on the back of her neck and caught her, lowering her gently to the tile floor.
She wasn’t heavy.
“What the hell?” Scout demanded.
“Sorry,” Moms said as she pulled out her phone. “We’ve got two for delivery and seclusion,” she called in. She turned the phone off. “We didn’t have time to be subtle. They’ll be fine. We’re just getting them out of the line of fire.”
“Same thing you did to me at Senator’s Club?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t nice.”
“It was necessary.”
“Right,” Scout said. “You guys couldn’t call? Just show up and knock my parents out?”
“Sorry,” Moms said. “We just got the message.”
“Took you long enough. But call next time. I can get out of the house and meet you. Whatever.” She sighed and looked down at her mother. “She was due for a little rehab soon anyway. The move really stressed her out. Her last rehab trip was a while ago. And Dad needs a break. He’s been working too hard. As usual. I guess you’re doing them a favor.”
Moms looked at the laptop on the kitchen counter. A boat was flickering on the display. She glanced at Scout.
“My dad wants a boat,” Scout explained. “Actually, he’s been wanting one for years, but now we have a dock, so he might actually get one, but I doubt it. I think not allowing himself one seems to make him feel better than having one would. At least that’s what Doc would say, right?”
Moms stared at Scout, with her calm acceptance of the situation and her accurate evaluation of her father.
Scout looked past Moms. “Where’s Nada? The rest of the team?”
“En route,” Moms said. “Anyone else in the house?”
“No.”
“Who is this Greer your mother was warning?”
“Me.”
“Oh.” Moms indicated a chair. “Tell me what’s been going on.”
Most people don’t realize you can get from Knoxville to the Atlantic Ocean by boat. And those who do realize it think in traditional terms: the Tennessee River, traversing all the dam locks, to Paducah where it joins the Ohio River, to Cairo (Illinois, not Egypt), where the Ohio joins the Mississippi and then down to the Gulf of Mexico and onward.
But starting in 1972 and completed in 1984, the Tennessee-Tombigbee (Tenn-Tom) Waterway connects the Tennessee River to the Black Warrior-Tombigbee River system and then on to the Gulf of Mexico. It is still the largest earth-moving project in world history and few have ever heard of it, and fewer even focus on it, including federal law enforcement. This is just fine for a certain Mexican cartel, which began to use the waterway as a route to ship its various products into the center of the United States, avoiding the traditional drug corridors.
The Tenn-Tom is either a success (according to its supporters) or a failure (according to tonnage shipped, one-quarter of what had been estimated), but for the cartel, it was a blessing. Using a small fleet of luxury yachts, specially modified with hidden compartments, powerful engines to outrace ships at sea, and special armor plating secreted on board to battle off boarding on waterways (the cartel feared its competition more than the Feds), the cartel was enjoying two decades of safe travels, spreading its boats up the Tennessee, the Ohio, and the Mississippi along with its product.