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His efforts in Jonesboro and Little Rock hadn't been completely in vain. They'd given him the hatchet man team of "replacement" NCOs and a shipping manifest of materiel being loaded on a barge, though how Southern Command thought he'd get a barge all the way up the Ohio to Evansville was the sort of detail they had been vague on. When he asked, they said someone was "working the problem" and he could meet the barge at Backwater Pete's.
The manifest looked promising. Uniforms, or at least fabric to make uniforms. Cases of weapons. Explosives. Even recreational and educational materials for the new recruits.
Even more reassuring was the vessel and captain listed on the manifest. Whichever logistics officer they'd put in charge of "working the problem" knew his or her business.
Valentine had last seen the barge tied up on the Arkansas when Consul Solon was still running the Trans-Mississippi from his network of numbered posts. Valentine led his six new charges to the foot of the gangway and called up to the anchor watch.
"Permission to book a travel warrant?" Valentine asked the rumpled deckhand on watch, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The deckhand sauntered off to get the captain.
Captain Mantilla may have changed since Valentine last met him during Solon's brief hold on the Ozarks and Ouachitas. Valentine's memory of the man had diffused like a rewetted watercolor. But as the captain approached, Valentine noted the mat of hair and the quick, flashing glances that weren't suspicious, just indicative of a busy man with a lot on his mind-yes, it was him.
He stood there in gray overalls bearing a camouflage moire of grease stains and a formerly white but now weather-beaten ivory skipper hat riding the back of his head as though bored with the job. Thick bodied with a bit of a pot, he still looked like a fireplug with a seven-day beard and a couple arms hanging off it.
"Have to ask my passenger," Mantilla said. "I expect she won't mind."
"Passenger? Since when do passengers give orders to captains?"
"Her charter." Mantilla jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
Valentine was shocked to see Dots-Colonel Lambert, officially-looking lost in a big patrol coat and a hat with the earflaps turned down, and fiddling with her dunnage as if deciding what to have handy and what to store below.
Valentine wondered if she was traveling not so much incognito as low-key, a simple officer looking for transport. Probably on her way to meet a Cat and a Bear team looking to raise hell in Mississippi.
"Sir," Valentine said, saluting. "I'm told this boat's headed for the Mississippi."
"Valentine!" Lambert said, brightening. "Not going back already?"
"Afraid so. Javelin needs these replacements. You'll take priority, of course. I'll go on once he's dropped you downriver."
Lambert cocked her head. Her usual brisk manner was gone; she looked like a traveler who'd missed a bus. Little fissures explored her formerly vital, cheerleader-smooth skin from the corners of her eyes and mouth.
"I think we're at cross purposes, Major. I'm joining your command. I'm headed to Evansville as well."
"Is there a new . . . operation?" Stupid words-she no doubt had to keep quiet.
"No, I'm joining up with what's left of Javelin. I suppose you haven't heard. My whole command was moved under one of Martinez's staffers. They were going to stick me in an office routing communications where the only decision I'd ever make is what to have for lunch. So . . . I volunteered to go to Kentucky."
"As what? If you don't mind my asking."
"I don't mind at all. They need a new full colonel out there to act as CO. No bright young officer wanted the job-Javelin's a dead end as far as Southern Command is concerned. I'm not so sure. Thought I'd be the one to be out there for a change."
Lambert had run a sort of special forces unit dedicated to helping allies in the Cause. Kentucky was the second trip she'd sent him on, and whatever had gone wrong in the wooded passes of the Appalachians wasn't her fault. "You've nothing to prove to any of us."
"The coffee on this tub's surprisingly good," she said. "I think the good captain has connections in every trading port on the river. Let's hit the galley and get some. Tell me more about these Quisling volunteers you recruited."
"I have some support staff looking for passage too. And mail, of course," he said, patting his oversized shoulder bag.
"That bag's a heavy responsibility," she said. "If the captain doesn't mind cramming a few more in, I won't object."
They asked Mantilla, who shrugged. "Fuck it. Cook will be busier, is all. I'm fine with it, ma'am," Mantilla said. "Your people do their own laundry and use their own bedding. I'm not running a cruise ship."
Valentine joined the chorus of "thank you, Captain's" from his charges.
"All you headed up to Evansville?" the sleepy mate asked.
"Looks that way," Valentine said.
"Tough run. Not many friends on the Ohio."
