**If Mama Coulda Seen Me, Steve Earle**
"Meet us at the planned rendezvous ASAP."
Miller sat in the Findley's pristine kitchen, drinking a glass of milk. It was damn good milk too. That morning Mrs. Findley had proudly reported they were getting it from the dairy across town, raw and whole, like it had been when she was a kid. As she put it, "before the government screwed up dairy with so much unnecessary regulation."
As soon as she was out of the room Ray had of course commented sarcastically, "Just like they had it back when you were welcome to get the shits from any source you wanted."
He stared at the text from Wolf wondering what the heck was up. Findley was in his home office working with the door shut. The Findley kids were all out at some party in the neighborhood, and Mrs. Findley was watching TV. There was certainly no sign of any danger. Still, if Wolf said go, he'd better start packing.
The ringing of the phone jolted him to action. He set the milk in the sink, running cold water into it just in case it didn't get washed tonight, the way his Mama liked. He heard the office door open. Darn, his coat was out there and it was only about 10 degrees out. It would take five minutes for the truck to heat up. He listened carefully as Mrs. Findley paused her TV.
"Well if you insist Dennis. But that boy seems so nice."
Forget the coat. He darted for the back door. He was greeted with an icy gust of winter air but he didn't hesitate, just ran for the truck.
"Miller? What the fuck are you doing out here without a coat?" Findley called after him. He didn't sound upset. Eric turned and waved as if nothing unusual was going on.
"Oh hi. Uh, the other guys decided they were too tired to wait to sober up before driving home and it's too cold to walk. I'm going to pick them up now."
"They're city guys aren't they, not hardy like you and I." Findley smiled. "Come on back in and I'll take you in my own truck. It's got heated seats."
"Oh no sir. It's ok. I will only be a few minutes."
Mrs. Findley appeared at her husband's side and held up a coat for him. He slipped his arms into it and Eric turned back to the SUV. Just his luck, a thick layer of frost had frozen on the windshield. Hastily, he fumbled around under the driver's seat for a scraper.
A jingle of keys from a few feet behind him alerted him to the fact that Findley had moved off the porch. "Oh come on, I insist." For an old guy, he certainly moved stealthily. But he seemed friendly, not upset as if he'd just gotten news that three quarters of the team was out snooping in his business. Eric could just text them on the way and they'd pretend like they really were out drinking.
Sighing, Miller threw up his hands. He'd just have to text the guys on the way. Findley clicked a button and opened the garage. Another click started the gleaming white Escalade parked inside. "Chandler's got so many rules for my safety that I've hardly driven myself in weeks. Don't deny an old guy some fun." He pointed toward the passenger side and Miller hauled himself inside. As he clicked the seatbelt he noticed a pink cup cozy in the driver's side and a black one in the passenger side. He had to hide a giggle in the collar of his shirt. It was hard to imagine the prissy Mrs. Findley driving such an in-your-face vehicle but he supposed sometimes looks could be deceiving.
As they rolled out of the neighborhood, snowflakes the size of butter pats began to fall. "I suppose after five months in the arctic last year you are pretty sick of snow, huh?"
Eric looked up from where he was trying to dash off a quick text to warn the guys that he wasn't coming alone. "Uh, no, I like snow. And it didn't actually snow much up there. It was cold, and there were a few storms, but mostly it was just overcast or foggy." He wondered if he'd had the wrong impression of Findley all along. He'd been fairly quiet the entire trip but he was pretty jovial with his kids and Holcolmb. Maybe he was just shy with new people. Eric understood that.
"Huh, that sounds like Spring where I grew up. You know, I'm from Iowa too."
Eric couldn't remember ever mentioning he was from Iowa in front of the Vice President but he supposed it wasn't a secret either. "Oh yeah? Where abouts?"
"Just west of Des Moines."
Eric was from suburb outside of Ames but he'd spent lots of time in and around Des Moines too. To him Des Moines was art galleries and restaurants, parks, and tree lined streets. "Do you miss it?"
"It's not that different here." Findley waved a hand over the dashboard to indicate the view in front of them. They had turned out onto the main road that connected his neighborhood with downtown, about a half mile in front of them. "Corn, old factories, and more corn isn't that much different than wheat, old chemical plants, and more wheat." He laughed at his own joke.
"I suppose so." Eric shrugged, except he really missed home. "How'd you end up here?"
"Oh I took a summer job scrubbing graffiti off tanker cars and worked my way up. One thing led to another and eventually I was the manager for the entire petroleum transport division. I was looking to move into politics about the time the Bakken became big news so we cashed out and here I am."
He was jealous of the people who seemed to make new roots wherever they were. "You must have grown to love it in South Dakota then."
"Ha, no." Findley barked. "My wife wasn't too happy about the idea but after I put my foot down, well here we are. But it doesn't matter. I spend most of my time in Washington so I don't care." Findley turned off onto a service road sandwiched between the highway and the railroad tracks. The flurries had covered the packed dirt surface without any evidence of tire tracks.
Eric couldn't imagine any of the guys he knew forcing their wives to move to an isolated place while they lived somewhere so cosmopolitan as Washington D.C. Imagine how Commander Green would react if Danny tried to tell her to leave everything and move. He was distracted by the thought when his phone beeped in his hand. Turning it over he saw a quick message from Wolf. "Site B." He swallowed hard. He needed to figure out a way to ditch Findley and keep the vehicle so they could get the hell out of here, fast. Site B was just ahead on the left.
The cell Findley had set on the dash began to chime for an incoming call and Eric lunged for it. "I'll get it, since you're driving." He shoved his shoulder into Findley, hoping he'd run off the road. For an older man, his body was surprisingly muscular and he hardly budged. Eric only succeeded and making the phone fall to the floor with a thud. He jerked the SUV into the next driveway, headlights splashing over the empty parking lot of an elementary school.
"Oh, is there a message you don't want me to get?" Findley's lips curled in a sneer. "You are either the dumbest or the laziest soldier I've ever met. And I was drafted in '67, when being a dumbass lazy fuck was a way to keep alive." A sense of betrayal mixed with shame as Eric realized the entire conversation about home had been a farce. The Vice President had known all along that they were on to him.
He was already unclipping his seatbelt when Findley shoved something cold against his neck. "I don't know what you idiots think you know, but that incompetent Lieutenant has another think coming if he thinks you're gonna screw with my plans." Eric was unceremoniously shoved toward the door. He was about to duck and shoot one arm up to remove himself from the line of fire when Findley unceremoniously shoved him from the car and pavement rushed up to meet his face.
Burk tried to catch his breath as they hid in the shadows of the concrete steps leading up to the front of the elementary school. They had managed to escape the trainyard but during their mad dash Wolf had informed him that their original meeting spot was teaming with railroad guys and they had raced here instead. With the dusting of snow on all the surfaces, their tracks were going to lead Gordon, Jeremy, and whoever else was now suspicious straight to them in a few minutes anyways.
"We need a vehicle. Any word from Miller?"
"Negative." Wolf's breathing made a harsh static on the comm. "He rogered me twice but then nothing."
Burk stepped out of the shadows to peer up and down the street. Across the road was the commercial district they had just come out of. The parking lot of the church next to them was icy and bare and the next lot was covered with scrubby shrubs. It was a pretty ugly view for the school kids who spent all day here. His coat pulled away from the back of his neck were sweat cooled, leaving him with a distinct chill. He was pretty sure the soccer fields on the back side of the school might butt up to a neighborhood, but the overhead lights were on meaning it would offer little cover. "Alright, take Diaz around in the shadows and teach him how to boost a car."
"On it mate." Carleton gave Ray a confident nod in the direction of Wolf.
"Don't you need some cover?" The kid looked nervously at the parking lot where any minute now Miller might show up, or Findley might.
He did, but it was just the three of them so, "Be quick, watch your six, and let's hope I don't."
As the crunch of their footsteps faded off into the dark margins of the field the squeal of tires had him crouching low. He watched in horror as a white SUV careened around the corner and into the parking lot. It swung in a hard circle before shuddering to a stop. A sodium light on a tall pole cast a sharp glare that prevented him from seeing into the cab. But something told him that Miller, who drove like an old lady, was probably not at the wheel. He carefully reached into his jacket for the handgun hidden there and got ready.
The passenger door was thrown wide and a familiar red head emerged, followed a little too quickly by a gangly body. As Miller picked himself up from the pavement, Findley climbed down from the cab. Burk sucked in a breath at the sight of the shiny pistol in the man's hand. After seeing the wide range of wildlife hanging in Findley's home office, he had no doubt the man was a good shot. "Come on out Lieutenant. I know you're here somewhere," Findley called. "And I know you've been snooping around my trainyard. So the gig's up," he sneered. "I'm done tolerating your sissy Navy shit. One way or another you're gonna get out of my way."
He cocked the gun he was holding on Miller. "Now throw out the gun I know you're carrying and get your ass out here. I need every penny I'm making off this deal if I'm going to finance a run against that idiot Michener in two years. And I'm certainly not going to let a prissy fuck-up like you ruin it for me."
He watched Miller wipe bloody palms down his thighs and then cradle his elbow against his body. Miller looked stunned, whether it was from Findley showing his true colors or the fall to the pavement, Burk couldn't tell. But in that moment he was sure he couldn't let this cheating stealing asshole get away with hurting anyone. "What do you want from me?" He faced the concrete steps as he yelled, hoping it would sound like his voice was coming from somewhere else.
To his dismay, Findley zeroed in on his location immediately. "You might as well come out now. Hands up where I can see them. You show a weapon, Hayseed here gets it. Believe me, when your bodies are found on the tracks tomorrow, no one's going to know how it really went down." Miller's freckles stood out even more stark against his skin than usual.
"How can you steal from people this way? You saw the people in Sioux City. They are suffering. People are dying, and you could be helping them." His voice sounded painfully naive, even to his own ears.
Findley barked out a laugh. A man of his age should have looked frail or weak standing in the ten degree night wearing only a ratty parka. But in that moment his thin hair, age spots, and turkey neck transformed into something sinister. "You know what Burk, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. This apocalypse was long over due. For too long we've babied people who can't take care of themselves. As I've always said, mark my words Bruce, one day something will happen and only the toughest few will survive. To those cry babies who can't take care of themselves I say good riddance. In the long run we will be stronger because of it." The Vice President stepped closer to Miller. There was no way he would miss and no way Burk could get a bead on him. His only hope was to keep him talking until Wolf and Ray returned or he was forced to action.
"I still don't get it. What are you doing with all that oil?"
"You are as dumb as this one, aren't you. The weapon first." Findley gestured toward him, sneering in derision while his gun stayed level and steady on Miller.
With a sigh, Burk dropped his gun to the pavement. The sound of the metal probably getting scratched and scarred caused him to cringe but he ignored it, taking a chance to gain a step forward toward Findley. Miller, for his part, stood stock still, watching Findley with a wary eye but Burk hoped he had remembered his training and was watching for moment to spring into action.
"As for the oil, I'm selling it of course. Think of it this way Burk, for every helpless loser along the Mississippi who lets himself freeze to death, there's another on the West Coast living a productive life raising the crops that are going to feed us all next year. The way I see it, the people who live there are simply more valuable to the nation. If it was June and they were planting out here, things might be different. But I can't change nature."
He would have said Findley was crazy but nothing about what he said was actually that far out of line with the things he'd said previously. Burk's stomach threatened to evict the greasy venison Mrs. Findley had fed them for dinner. He should have listened to Alisha's warning but he hadn't wanted to trust her judgment, especially if it required trust Val's intuition. "Are you working with the MCF then?" He stepped a little farther onto the pavement, testing whether Findley noticed he was getting closer.
"Don't push it." He scowled. "My colleagues will be here any second so today is not the day you earn your second silver star boy."
"Your colleagues? Don't you mean conspirators? This is treason you know, all of it."
Findley scoffed. "No, it's not. I am a businessman and a senator and I've been at this a lot longer than you so you can trust me when I say that as of yet Michener has done nothing to prevent me from doing business with the MCF or anyone else. Now, I need you to call off that Aussie before I have to do something drastic."
Burk sputtered. "But you took an oath, the same oath I did, to serve and protect the interests of our country. How is this not in violation of that?" In the distance he heard the squeal of a car engine protesting the bitter cold as someone cranked it and he hoped to God it was Wolf and Ray.
Findley's breath puffed into the cold dark sky with his barking laugh. "Find me a judge who will rule that exporting goods and services, especially oil, is not in the favor of our country. Can you do that?" He barked again. "No, and not just because there aren't any judges, but because in the long run what I'm doing is good for us. I'm shifting the trade balance in our favor. I'm making jobs, giving people lives right here in good old South Dakota. There's nothing illegal about it." He turned to bring the gun to Miller's temple. "Now, it is fucking cold out here and I am not a patient man. Tell your man to stand down so that I can release this one."
Burk's own forehead suddenly felt cold, as if the gun was pressed there instead of above Miller's pleading eyes, his pupils wide and scared in the dim light. Wolf and Ray weren't going to make it here. He was going to have to do something, and fast. Miller moved his lips as if reciting a prayer and Burk was cast back to the helo bay where Ravit made her decision to accept what was coming. He had accepted that the fight was over then, but he wouldn't now. "What about the people of Sioux City? What about those guys who gave us dinner in Standing Rock? I don't care what the laws allow or don't allow. What you are doing is wrong and you know it." He made a last ditch effort to appeal to whatever decency Findley had. "People make mistakes. These are tough times and we all have made mistakes. Michener understands that. Heck, he was even aligned with the immunes before he came to his senses. This thing could be turned around before it goes too far. I don't have a gun now so just put yours down and we can talk. Make this right."
"Fucking Jesus, are all you Navy boys so pure and innocent?" Spittle flew from Findley's lips. "This isn't a mistake, I assure you. I run a business son. The railroad, the oil company, the pipeline, those are all private companies, not public utilities. And we have the right to take our business anywhere we want. So it is you who needs to do some hard thinking because if you don't call your friend and tell him to stand down, this one is going down to the deep dark depths of hell, or wherever stupid kids from Iowa go when they kick the can."
He held his gaze on Findley but the man showed no weakness. "Fine. Then you can let Miller go and we can talk." He clicked his Mic. "Wolf? Hold off at your current position and await further instructions. Do not bring the car near rendezvous A. I repeat, do not come to rendezvous A."
"No worries mate. I'm at rendezvous B waiting for your signal." Burk had to resist the urge to look behind him and figure out where Wolf was hiding.
Instead he nodded. "Just sit tight. This might take a while."
He threw the ball back to Findley. "There. You heard me. It's just us now. So release Miller and we'll talk."
"God, you really are a dumb fucker. Take the mic off. I have no problems doing what I have to do here, and I don't need the shadow of a potential witness hanging over me." Burk rolled his eyes but he pulled the earpiece out. For once he hoped to hell his team was directly disobeying his orders. Wolf knew better, right? "Seriously, giving up your weapon and then calling off your backup. The Navy really has gone to the dogs. In my day we would never surrender," Findley spat. "Get down on the ground, face down, hands behind your neck where I can see them." If Wolf didn't take action soon he was going to die here, with the frozen net of a playground basketball hoop for a grim headstone. Burk felt his blood pumping like liquid lead as he moved as slowly as he possibly could to stall until he was kneeling facing Miller.
"What the hell Findley. You said we could talk." A splash of headlights nearly blinded him but his momentary relief was quashed as a yellow truck bearing the railroad logo in bright orange pulled into the parking lot behind Findley's SUV. Two men in work gear got out, one holding a roll of duck tape and the other a rifle, trained on Burk's chest. It wasn't the first time he'd been directly in the line of fire but what scared him the most was when Holcomb, all shiny and slick in an expensive wool coat and perfectly polished dress shoes, came around from the driver's side. Fuck! His mind screamed. He forced his breath out through his nostrils where it felt tacky, like ice was already forming on the vulnerable edges of his body.
"I don't have anything to talk about with you unless you want a new job in private security. This deal is happening and I don't need any interference. So my cover is blown a little earlier than I expected, that's no big deal." Findley waved Holcomb over. "We've known all along that eventually we'd have to be more upfront about things. I went to St. Louis to get the cure so my workers would stop dying off on me. I never expected Michener to bring me into the fold. That was just a bonus."
"What's going on here Findley? You should be done by now." Holcomb fingered something in his pocket as he spoke. "First you bring the fucking Navy into town, then you let them in on our operation? This is no good my friend." Findley deflated as if Holcomb had sucked his bluster right out of him. Findley might have been satisfied if Miller and Burk were out of the way and he bought a little more time to get his train to Wyoming. But Holcolb wouldn't rest, not until he had squashed all possibility of discovery.
"Tie them up. We can't do this here." Holcomb's men jumped into action. The one holding the rifle on Burk shifted to stand behind him while the other grabbed Miller and began to tape his hands together. The urge to fight back warred with the awareness of the gun ready to blow his brain to bits.
"Do what?" Findley asked. "Let's not get carried away here Bruce. We need to get that train out and then we can let the MCF worry about the rest of it."
"Ha. Washington and St. Louis have made you soft Dennis. Too much time talking and not enough doing. That's why I made you mayor and why I pushed you forward. You've always been better at the fancy talking than the nitty gritty of what needs to be done. But the time has come to shit or get off the pot. If these guys go back to Michener telling him that he's lost South Dakota too, what the fuck do you think he's going to do? He's going to be right back here with another team in no time. No, better to wrap this up clean with something he can't question like an accident. Tragic, but in the end, just one of those things that happens sometimes. Heck, you might be able to ride this to your own presidency. Imagine that, President Dennis Findley, driven by the memory of the brave men who died protecting him to always look out for the average American. Pushing on, taking up the cause for America despite his heartbreak. You'll be branded as less selfish more of a leader than Michener in one fell swoop."
Findley nodded, a new steel behind his posture. "I'd certainly be a better president than Michener. If he really wanted to get America back on her feet he wouldn't be bothering to wait for the states elect new representatives. He'd appoint them immediately and get on with it." He retrained the gun on Miller. "I'd love to throw Michener's failure in his stupid face though. "You sure you won't join us Burk? What about Chandler? He's not some liberal weepy commie bitch like Michener. I'm sure he'd rather work for someone with the balls to make the tough calls."
Miller's face twisted like the sloppy strips of tape wrapped around his wrists. "You talk about leadership like it's about making people follow you. But leadership is all about knowing what and who to follow. Chandler, Michener, Burk, those men would never follow a man like you."
Burk was surprised to see Findley's shoulder's slump again and buoyed by Miller grouping him in the same category as Chandler. Was that how the men saw him? He straightened his shoulders with new confidence. Holcomb came to stand near his shoulder. "Don't listen to that stupid kid Dennis. The only thing he's right about is that he and Burk won't ever follow you. And that's why they have to go. You know I could make you the leader of the free world in a heartbeat."
Miller's face fell as one of the lackey's grabbed him by the scruff and tugged him to his feet pushing him toward the tailgate of the truck. The guy holding the rifle on Burk backed up a few steps, still pointing the gun at his chest, and opened it.
"Where are you taking him?" Burk demanded.
Holcomb just turned a shiny little pistol on Burk. "Don't worry. We wouldn't think of leaving you behind. After all, the only way all four of you can go in one accident is if you're in the same place at the same time. I hear the lake is pretty this time of year but probably not solid enough to drive a truck on. But perhaps you got a hankering to take a crack at it." He laughed at his own joke.
Burk tried to ignore the fact that now he had two guns pointed at him in close range. The grunt probably wouldn't fire but Holcomb probably would. His hope was that the nervous clenching of Findley's jaw indicated he was uncomfortable with Holcomb's plan. Maybe once reality was staring him in the face he wouldn't be able to follow through. "Come on Findley. Are you really going to be able to live with yourself if you allow four cold blooded murders tonight?" He met the man's eyes, challenging him to deny that it would be murder.
Findley shrugged. "You could decide to join us instead. The MCF needs people with skills. I could maybe get you a promotion if you wanted to be my personal guard. Commander Burk sounds pretty good, doesn't it."
"There already is a Commander Burk and he would never give up on the US, never. And neither will I."
"I've had enough of your pussyfooting Findley. He's not going to cave. I knew in third grade you didn't have the balls and I can see now that you really haven't changed." Holcomb turned his gun on Findley. "And you know what, if you're stupid enough to think you can negotiate with these guys, who will turn you into Michener the first chance they get, then I don't think it's safe for me to do business with you either. Now get in the truck and shut up while my men take care of what needs to be done."
Suddenly Burk caught a flurry of motion out of the corner of his eye. Ray was jogging across the field in his ridiculous silver and neon purple ski parka, the reflective strips catching the field lights and winking like a beacon. His shouts echoed in the barren landscape. For a moment it seemed like everything stopped. The man behind him swung the barrel of the rifle toward Ray while Holcomb raised his arm toward Findley. There was only a split second and then Burk found himself launching into the air and wrestling for control of a gun while the deafening sound of one shot and then another rang off the windows of the school. Behind him he heard glass shatter and a loud thud as a body fell against the SUV.
His hands closed around cold metal and he drove the butt of the gun backward, forcing the fingers of the man holding it to twist. The man grunted in pain and kneed him in return. They tumbled over in the snow and cold gritty pavement dug into the back of his head as the larger man attempted to cut off his airway with an elbow. Burk reached up and yanked the magazine from the gun and slammed it broadside against the man's head. The heavy item made a sickening crunch as it connected over the man's ear but he managed to whack Burk in the head with the butt of the gun. He didn't give up and just kept hitting, even as his vision dimmed. He would not let these last few months be the end of his life. He could not leave Miller, Ray, and Wolf out here by themselves. He continued to pound. Finally he got an angle and jabbed with the heavy plastic right under the man's chin. With one final groan of pain the man slumped unconscious.
Burk's ears registered that the panting he heard was not his own and he looked up to see Ray bent over in front of him. "You OK Sir? That was a hell of a leap."
He took Ray's outstretched hand and rose carefully, brushing snow off his knees as he turned to see Miller doing the same. "Wolf must have got Holcomb but not in time to save Findley." Ray explained. "Thanks man."
"For what?" He felt a little shaky but he forced himself to stand upright, gulping big breaths of air and taking in the scene as he did.
"For choosing me over the VP of course. There was a second where I wasn't sure which way you'd go." The kid shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Miller raised his shaking hands, still taped together, to his face where dots of blood added to the freckles. "Damn." He swiped at the blood. The guy who had been about to shove him in the truck lay bloodied on the ground.
"Yeah Miller. That was fucking bad ass the way you slammed that guy's brains in the car door." Ray pulled a face and Burk realized the fourth man lay at Miller's feet. There was so much blood in the snow that it was hard to tell who it came from.
Lights were flicking on in the houses across the field. "We got to go mates!" He looked up but didn't see Wolf.
"He's coming down the fire escape." Ray jerked a thumb toward the far side of the building. "We finally gave up on you moving enough for a clean shot and he sent me to stir things up."
"There's going to be lots of attention here in a second. Let's go!" Wolf jogged across the parking lot toward Findley's SUV. "Get in!"
The red fog in his head had cleared enough that he knew it was time to let someone else take charge. He followed Wolf's instructions, clinging to the handle above the door as they spun around and sped out of the school yard, and he wondered how things would have been different if Chandler had given him the team he asked for.
