Chapter Seventeen
Jenny found him on a small knoll east of the cabins, sitting on a boulder, gazing at the spectacular colors emblazoning the eastern sky.
“Dawn is almost here,” she stated the obvious.
“You couldn’t sleep either,” he asked her, his kindly blue eyes laced with a trace of sadness.
“I’ve been unable to sleep since he left,” Jenny revealed.
“I too am experiencing difficulty with my repose,” he said.
“Do you regret sending Alpha Triad out into the world, Plato?” she questioned him.
“Frankly, I’m torn both ways,” he admitted. “You know I love Blade, and I’m fond of the others too. I do regret sending them on their mission. At the same time, I know the importance of their task. I know the Family will not survive unless they succeed.”
“You did the right thing,” she assured him.
“Thank you.” He smiled. “It does my soul good to hear you say that. I need your support.”
“You have it,” Jenny assured him. She put her left hand on his right shoulder and gently squeezed. “All of us love you. We might disagree at times, but always remember you have our loyal and abiding support.”
Plato rose, his knees wobbly, weaving as he stood. “I wish I could develop a cure for this damnable arthritis!”
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Jenny inquired.
“Let’s forget our cares and woes,” Plato said, ignoring her query. He stretched, watching the sun begin to emerge above the horizon. “What do you say to visiting my cabin for breakfast? I’m sure Nadine will be delighted to have you visit.”
“I don’t want to impose,” Jenny mentioned.
“Nonsense,” Plato said, overruling her objection. “I’ll inform my dear wife we spent all night out here under the stars. Let’s see if we can make her jealous.”
Jenny laughed. “You’re as playful as ever!”
“At my age,” Plato amended, “you’re frisky, not playful.”
They strolled toward the cabins, savoring the fresh morning air and the chirping of the birds.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” Jenny declared.
“And just think,” Plato reassured her. “Wherever the Alpha Triad is at this very moment, they are undoubtedly enjoying this crisp new dawn as much as we are.”
“You think so?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know…” she began.
“Where’s all this loyal and abiding support I’m supposed to receive?”
Plato grinned.
“You know I trust you,” Jenny said.
“Then stop worrying!” Plato advised her. “Relax. We’ll have a big meal and gossip about everyone else. Did you hear the question one of the children asked yesterday in anatomy class?”
“You’re terrible,” Jenny chuckled. “I don’t know how Nadine puts up with you!”
“She thinks I’m a hunk.” Plato smirked. Jenny chuckled. “You are. And so is my Blade.”
“Who, at this very second,” Plato speculated, striving to ease her anxiety, “is alive and well and invariably thinking of you.”
“I know he is still alive,” Jenny affirmed “I can feel it, deep down. But I’m troubled…”
“About what?” Plato cut her off. “You just said you feel he’s alive, and you know he can handle himself competently.”
“I guess you’re right,” she agreed. “I really shouldn’t upset myself. After all, he’s with Hickok and Geronimo. What could possibly beat all of them?”
Chapter Eighteen
The Watchers.
Through a pervading haze and numbing pain, Blade struggled to regain his concentration.
The Watchers. Where were they?
Blade dimly remembered being stripped of everything except for his pants. They had dug a hole at the fringe of the park, directly across from the building his friends occupied. The Watchers had placed a tall post in the hole, packed in the dirt, and tied their captive to the pole, securing his wrists and his ankles so tightly the circulation was constricted.
His head was pounding.
Blade recalled the shouting and dimly registered the message. He knew the consequences. According to their training, Warriors would never surrender, under any circumstances. Hickok and Geronimo would be forced to let the Watchers shoot him.
There wasn’t much time left.
Where were the Watchers? Were any of them paying any attention to him, or were they all riveted on the building?
Did it matter?
Blade felt his full consciousness return, and he carefully opened his eyes. He could see the SEAL, and beyond the vehicle the Watchers’ former headquarters. None of the Watchers, though. They were probably scattered around the area, in hiding, waiting for sunrise.
The bonds holding his wrists seemed slightly loose.
Blade cautiously flexed his steely muscles and felt the ropes give a fraction.
Good!
The sun was rising.
Blade surged against the ropes, attempting to minimize his body movements, hoping to prevent the Watchers from detecting his efforts.
The Watchers would be intent on the front door of the building, waiting for those inside to surrender.
I can do it! Blade told himself. If he applied sufficient pressure, eventually the ropes would slacken enough to free his arms.
The only question was, could he succeed before the sun was completely above the horizon?
Several Watchers suddenly appeared on the buildings nearest the headquarters, their rifles pointing at the front door.
Sweat coated his powerful frame as Blade strained against his bonds, his body quivering.
Just a few more minutes! All he needed was a few measly minutes!
Someone was moving in the park behind him, rustling the underbrush.
Blade was on the verge of freeing his hands, and wondering what his next move should be, considering his legs were still fastened to the post, when the one thing he didn’t expect to happen happened.
The front door opened and Hickok stepped outside, holding his arms over his head, grinning like an idiot.
Chapter Nineteen
Hickok stopped on the third step, smiling, slowly glancing to his left, then to his right. As he expected, Watchers were posted on the roofs of nearby structures, their M-16s at the ready. He counted three to his left, two to his right. That meant seven were still unaccounted for.
“I’m glad to see you have some sense,” Captain Williams boomed from the cover of the park.
Hickok faced front, still grinning. He stared at Blade, puzzled. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or was Blade moving?
“Where are the others?”
Stall. He had to stall, giving Geronimo and Bertha time to clamber down their makeshift rope, fall to the ground, and made their way around front.
“Where are the others?” Captain Williams repeated. “I know there are more of you.”
“They’re still inside,” Hickok shouted.
“Tell them to come out, now!” Williams ordered.
“They don’t trust you,” Hickok yelled. “They’re afraid you’ll shoot them in the back.”
“They have nothing to fear,” Williams said, sounding impatient.
“They don’t know that,” Hickok countered.
“We do not intend to kill you,” Williams stressed. “If they don’t come out and drop their weapons, we will kill your friend.”
“Looks like we don’t have much choice,” Hickok admitted.
“Then you first. Drop your guns.”
Hickok took two more steps, then paused. He’d given his Henry to Geronimo, leaving him the Colts and the Ruger, fully loaded. Eighteen shots didn’t seem like much at a time like this.