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“Sure, come on in.”
“Jackson is coming over and bringing some steaks; I hope that’s all right.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to see him.” Ham got them both a beer from the fridge. “You know, I haven’t spent this much time alone for a long, long time—maybe never—and I’m really enjoying it. All I’ve done is read and watch sports on the satellite.”
“That’s all you ever did anyway, isn’t it?”
“Well, I worked, didn’t I? You forget I was in the army?”
“Why haven’t you played golf?”
“I haven’t had anybody to play with. You and Jackson have been so busy.”
“I’ll play with you this weekend, then.”
They sat down and watched Tiger Woods sink a forty-foot putt on TV.
“Holy shit,” Ham said.
Jackson arrived at half past six, loaded with groceries and a cardboard tube. “I’m starving,” he said. “Can we eat before we do anything else?”
Ham warmed up the grill and put on the steaks Jackson had brought.
“Oh, Ham,” Jackson said, “I’ve got something for you.” He handed Ham a sheet of paper. “It’s your application for the Dunes Country Club. The committee meets later this week, so fill it out and I’ll get it over there tomorrow.”
“That’s fast work,” Ham said, finding a pen and going to work on the form.
“Glad to do it.”
They finished dinner and cleared the table, then Jackson opened the cardboard tube he had brought. “Get me some transparent tape and some thumbtacks,” he said. He pinned rolls of photographic paper to the dining table and taped the seams. “Okay,” he said, “there you have it: Palmetto Gardens.”
Holly pointed to where Jungle Trail met the fence. “I was here this afternoon,” she said. “There’s a double fence here with a plowed strip in between and signs about high voltage.” She pointed elsewhere on the photographs. “Look, it goes all the way around. In front, the wire is obscured by the high hedges.”
“Here’s the building with all the antennas,” Jackson said, pointing.
“What are these buildings here?” Holly asked, pointing to a series of parallel structures.
“Looks like housing of some sort—for staff, maybe.”
“You think all the employees live on the place?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve never met anybody who worked there, so maybe.”
“What do you suppose they do for R and R?” Ham asked.
“They’ve got an airfield. Maybe they fly them to Disney World or something,” Jackson offered.
“Hey, look at this,” Ham said, pointing.
“Looks like vegetation,” Holly said.
“That’s not vegetation, it’s camouflage netting.”
“Are you sure?” Holly asked, peering at it.
“You think I’ve never seen that stuff? I lived under it for two years, in ’Nam. I’ve seen a lot of it in photographs, too. Look, here’s another patch, and another.” There were half a dozen patches, scattered over the area, and two more near the airfield.
“What would they be covering up with camouflage netting?” Holly asked.
