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Chapter Fifty
Kane wasn’t sure what they’d find once they arrived at his place for the supposed rendezvous. To celebrate with his stepbrother, the idolized Commander seemed big-time weird.
According to the joint task force between the FBI and the NCTC’s strategy, the men in charge of each basket were to be rounded up while making their delivery. They’d have eyes on them as soon as they entered the downtown route where the march was to be held.
Kane had warned them what to watch for. That each man had been given a white florist uniform with a shamrock emblem on the pocket. Gloves were to be used religiously so there’d be no trace back to them. And they wore larger brim caps to hide behind and were to keep their faces from being viewed on any of the cameras in the vicinity.
Their plan reckoned on the delivery of those flower baskets seeming perfectly normal. Problem was that ordinary baskets of beautiful flowers didn’t normally hide bombs set to detonate during a Black Lives Matter rally.
Kane pretended to be relaxed in the truck next to the madman whose organization had set this whole disgusting tragedy in place. Listening to him brag about all the other times he’d been involved with this type of militia movement, it physically hurt to think the man was related to him in any way at all.
But he took in all the information and what he didn’t remember, no doubt his phone he’d set to record would be picking up the rest.
My God, this guy’s brain must have been tuned in to the wrong station since birth…. some strange alien place where normal people didn’t exist. No human being with a heart and a conscience would think these views of violence were acceptable. That whites were the superior race and could reap vengeance in the form of inflicting pain in any way they wanted.
Where was the old adage his aunt had taught him about… “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”?
Disgust choked him, forcing down the bile that threatened to override his willpower to stick to his role. When he looked at Lee, he saw the skinny kid he’d always felt so sorry for… the kid who’d hidden tears when Kane’s aunt had taken him away. Had that emotion been for losing his stepbrother or because Kane had escaped without him? He’ll never know, because, sure as shit, this hardened man wouldn’t share.
Once they arrived in front of his place, the only other vehicle on the street was Gordie’s. Him and Lance came toward them, with Gord in the rear, talking too loud and being a nuisance. Kane saw the huge effort it took from Lance pretending to be impressed.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Gordie bellowed importantly.
“Keep your voice down.” Kane headed for his front door expecting that they would all follow. “We can talk in here.”
“They should be finished by now.” All of a sudden, Ham’s killer seemed jumpy.
“Why, Gord?” Kane tried to calm him. “We didn’t give them a deadline. They might have run into street cleaners or too many people around. Don’t panic for nothing.”
“Kane’s right.” Lee waved his almost empty bottle of beer their way. “The boys woulda contacted us if they had a problem. Relax. Let’s have another beer.” He’d carried in the rest of his six-pack and handed them around.
“Speaking of problems, I’m wondering if we should have left that girl at the cabin?” Gordie’s voice lost its boldness, wobbling when Lee swung his way wearing a look of disgust.
“You think, asshole? You walked away without any worries, didn’t ya? Thank goodness, I spotted the can filled with gas on the back porch. Before we left, I poured it through the window and lit a match.”
Kane’s instant reaction bore no trace to the earlier relaxed man. Hands out, he flew for Lee’s throat.
