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"I wonder. You know anything about distributed secure networks?"
"Uh-no, sir."
Which was just as well. Valentine didn't know anything about it either. The corporal silently allowed the group inside.
uGas up two trucks. Put batteries in or whatever you have to do to get them going."
"Thought you said-"
"I'm going to listen to the engines of both," Valentine said. "I'll take the truck that sounds healthier."
Valentine didn't wait for an answer and headed toward the main office door between the two bigger buildings. Bee trailed behind.
He opened the door and wiped his feet. Two men in undershirts were lacing boots up.
There was a duty desk, a mail sorter, and a long bureau with an electric coffeepot and pieces of weaponry, lighting, and com gear wearing yellow toe tags atop it beneath silvery letters reading:
Happy New Year
-Look Alive In 'Fifty-Five
"Where's Sergeant Nelson?"
"Celebrating in Paclucah, sir."
"They're having fireworks," the other added, gaping at Bee. She sniffed the warm, stale air.
Valentine smelled a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee.
"Rollings!" Valentine called over his shoulder. He used the opportunity to scan the little office. There was a sort of wooden loft above with a water tank and boxes of supplies. He had a moment's startle-a shadow above pointed at him with an accusing finger. . . .
It turned out to be a mannequin of a nude female with a feather boa.
"Right here, Major."
Valentine thought quickly. "That's 'Colonel,' son. I'm not your old CO. You keep forgetting."
"Sorry, Colonel."
"You know any of these fellas? Who's in charge?"
"That would be me," a gruff voice came from the doorway to what looked like a residence room. A sergeant with a beer gut partially covering a pistol belt stood in the doorway. "What's the emergency, Colonel?"
"Worse than you know, Sergeant," Valentine said. He reached into his attache and began extracting paperwork and placing it on the duty desk. He took out the gun and pointed it at the NCO.
"I'm sorry to inform you all that you're my prisoners. Rollings, that's a nice looking .45 the sergeant has on his belt. Relive him of it."
Bee stiffened and drew her own shotguns from her waistband. "Watch the door, Bee.
Door," Valentine said.
"Turn your backs, gentlemen, and place your hands on the back of your head, fingers interlaced. Kneel."
Valentine made sure they complied, listening for other sounds of life in the dark warehouse next door. Out in the motor yard, he heard a truck turn over. "Now, if you're cooperative for the next hour or so, you'll be taken prisoner and brought back to a Southern Command base. You'll be surprised how nice the day-release POW camps are. If you give us any trouble, I'll leave you tied here for the Reapers. Decision time."
* * * *
Valentine called the other two in. They gaped at their comrades kneeling with faces to the wall.
