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“From what I’ve seen so far, you’ll have to be more than careful,” said Reel. “Good luck.”
“ANY ACTIVITY?”SAIDREEL, who drove while Robie rode shotgun on the way down to Williston.
“Nothing so far. If we picked up a tail, they’re good.”
“Well, so far, they have been.”
“How much further?”
“Twenty clicks.”
“Read the service record on Bradley Daniels,” said Robie. “Sounds like a real patriot. Purple, Bronze, DFC, and the Airman’s Medal. Well over a hundred bombing missions in the European and Pacific Theaters. Shot down twice. Sat in a life raft with three other crew members for a month in the Pacific before they got picked up by a Navy destroyer. Then got right back in the saddle.”
“Like you said, a real patriot.”
Robie glanced in the side view and saw what he had seen for the last hour: nothing. And he wasn’t pleased by that. None of this felt right to him.
It was well after eleven by the time they got to the nursing home and past visiting hours, but their federal badges intimidated the night supervisor so much, he led them directly to Daniels’s room and then fled.
The old man was fast asleep in his bed. The light was off in his room, and Robie debated whether to turn it on. He finally opted not to.
They drew near the bed, one on each side.
“Mr. Daniels?” Reel said gently, before touching the man’s shoulder.
He started and his eyes opened, then closed, then opened and stayed that way.
“Who the hell are you?” he said, blinking rapidly and sitting up slightly.
Robie and Reel held out their creds and official badges. “We’re with the intel community,” said Robie.
“Turn on a damn light so I can see.”
Reel turned on the overhead light and Daniels scrutinized the badges and cred packs.
“We were told you couldn’t see very well,” said Robie.
“Yeah, well, I let people think that for my own reasons.”
“Okay.”
“These look real,” he finally said, handing them back.
“That’s because they are.”
“What do you want with me?”
“London AFS?” said Reel.
Daniels lay back on his pillow. “I already talked to the Feds. That big fellow. FBI. He took my hat, the son of a bitch.”
Reel reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the hat, and handed it to him. “And he asked us to return it.”
Daniels looked pleased by this and said, “Well, at least he’s a man of his word.”
Robie said, “Ben Purdy? You told him more than you told Decker. We’ve been ordered here to get the rest of the story.”
“Why?”
