Chapter 9: Knights and Pawns

Bo shook his head at the latest turn of events, leaning his head back to look up at the fading light of the setting sun through the broken roof. He knew, now, that he was in the hayloft of the old barn in the Dukes' north fields – the dilapidated structure half-destroyed by the tornado six years ago. Apparently the loft stairs were undamaged, though the front end of the building was torn clean off. His captors had introduced themselves as Agents Harrison and Chalmers, FBI. He didn't know whether to believe them or not, at first, but he remained their captive just the same. They were as good as their word, though – they had asked nothing of him, no questions, no information, they simply left him under guard, handcuffed to the loft railing.

The agent assigned to guard him – Jack Carter, he said – was younger, about Luke's age, and seemed a nice enough fellow. He'd done his best to make Bo comfortable, adjusting the handcuffs, helping him sit up against a support beam, and providing aspirin against his headache. They brought him a sandwich for dinner, a jug of cold water to drink, and both his medications and Luke's car magazine, which they'd taken from the farmhouse with the blankets when they kidnapped him. He'd asked Carter a few questions about the whole situation, and the young agent didn't seem to find any harm in answering.

"See, Chalmers has been working on this case for months. He began to see a pattern between certain Senate votes and some incidents of burglary, house fires, that sort of thing. When he started to dig, he learned about threats against certain senators' family and friends, attempts at blackmail, bribes, graft, even a kidnapping of one man's daughter. Someone had an agenda they wanted passed in Congress, and they were using any means necessary to get it. Senator Billings of Virginia refused to cooperate. They kidnapped him and his wife. Billings must have continued to refuse – I met him once, he was an honorable man," Carter added sadly, "We think they must have killed the senator and his wife as a message to the other politicians involved."

Bo's jaw hung open. "And the FBI couldn't catch them at all this!" He was no fan of lawmen, but he still respected the competence and ability of the federal agencies.

Carter looked up at him with a smile. "The boys behind it were always one step ahead, covering their tracks, making a move and then disappearing without a trace or a witness – until now."

"But if they don't leave witnesses, they're gonna want to kill Daisy! Not to mentioned me and Luke!"

"Exactly."

Bo stared at him, realization dawning. "You're gonna use Luke and Daisy as bait."

Carter smiled and nodded confirmation, proud of his commanders' plan. He barely scrambled backwards in time to avoid Bo's lunge.

"You lowdown dirty rat!" Bo roared, his expression a mixture of anger and pain as he pulled his left wrist taut against the handcuffs and tried to swing out with his immobilized right arm.

"Hey! Quiet up there!" came the gruff order from Chalmers below.

Carter frowned. "Look," he said in a half-whisper, "Your family will be fine. We've got two men watching the house now, and they'll let us know as soon as Sonny Leavins and his men show up. Then we'll move in and arrest them all in one swoop. Commander Chalmers wanted to get you out of the way because you're injured, and you'd be more vulnerable in a fight. Don't worry about a thing."

Just after that, Carter had been called down below, and Bo had been left to himself. He had dozed on and off, mostly out of boredom. He was anxious inside, but there was nothing he could do. He knew how worried everyone must be to find him missing, and he wished he had some way to get a message out, to warn them of the coming storm. Bo also watched the preparations below – he counted at least three dozen FBI agents moving about, suiting up in bullet-proof vests and loading ammunition. Messengers moved in and out. There were no lights – they didn't dare risk being seen from a distance – but the gibbous moon provided ample illumination as it rose high in the sky. Bo wondered what Luke was doing just now.

It was around midnight, by his reckoning, that Carter came back up the loft stairs, carrying something black in his hands.

"Commander Chalmers told me to help you put this on, if you cooperate," he explained. It was a bullet-proof vest. "When we get the call, he wants me to uncuff you, so you're free to escape if anything goes wrong."

Bo studied him for a moment, and nodded agreement. Carter knelt at his side, and he sat patiently as the agent uncuffed his wrist from the railing. Carter paused a moment, seemingly ready for an escape attempt, but Bo was as good as his word, and only shook out his arm to return circulation. With the young agent's help, he pulled off the sling – wincing as he stretched out the cramped muscles – and his button-down shirt, and secured the flak jacket on underneath. The rough fabric felt strange against his bare skin, and he wished he could give it to Luke instead. Then the shirt, sling, and handcuffs went back on, and Carter headed downstairs.

The waiting gnawed at him, and he could tell that more than a few of the FBI agents were restless as well. He heard the impatient shuffles and shifting around, snatches of whispered conversations quickly hushed whenever Chalmers walked by. He could see the moon leaning down in the western sky through the roof when the radio transmitter crackled to life.

"Lookout Two calling Alpha One. The target has arrived, repeat, the target has arrived."

"That's it – let's go, men," Chalmers ordered. Two groups split up and left the barn – the first piling into two pickup trucks to circle around and come up by the main road, and the second cutting straight off across the fields between the rows of low-bush cotton.

Carter dashed up the loft stairs to uncuff Bo, who wished him good luck. With a quick smile, Carter was off, trailing after his fellow agents across the fields.

Bo watched him leave, but he didn't waste any time getting on his feet. He'd had just about enough R&R for the day, and he wasn't about to leave his family in danger without his help. Bo stood up to his full height and shook himself off, stretching out stiff muscles. Then he clambered down the loft stairs and took stock of his options. The FBI agents had left a scattering of goods and equipment around the barn, coffee mugs and spare clothes, but nothing particularly useful. After a quick search, all he found was an arm's length of metal pipe scattered behind some rotting hay. Thinking it more useful than nothing, he gripped it in his left hand and took off through the fields at a trot. He cut off in a different direction than the federal agents, along a shorter route, his bare feet pounding in time the steady rhythm of his heart.

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Bo approached the farmhouse from the west, the opposite end from where the barn stood. He'd taken to a deer path just inside the trees, and broke out of the treeline in time to see Sonny's men attack the FBI agents prematurely. Keeping to the shadows and moving silently on cat feet, he slipped closer and closer to the house. He caught a glimpse of his family and friends through the kitchen window. They were under guard, but appeared to be unhurt – Bo was relieved. He also noticed a cache of dynamite arrows stowed under the edge of the porch, and the beginnings of a plan formed in his mind.

As the gunfight moved towards the barn, he dashed across the last open space to the General Lee. Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed his bow from where he'd tossed it the night before. With another check towards the fight, he dashed to the edge of the porch for the dynamite arrows, and then back to better cover away from the house. He circled around into the cotton rows again, bending low to avoid being seen. He was a few hundred yards from the barn when two things happened at once: Luke, Cooter, and Uncle Jesse burst from the farmhouse and charged into the fight, and two sedans thundered up the drive, loaded with Sonny's cavalry.

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Bo watched in horror as Sonny's reinforcements quickly ended the fight. Overpowered and outnumbered, the FBI agents were rounded up. A few lay on the ground, unmoving, and several more had to be dragged into line with the others. Bo spotted Carter and Chalmers among those still standing. Luke, Jesse, and Cooter, who put up a good fight, were also recaptured, as were Daisy and Enos, who had been caught trying to sneak out to Dixie. Bo had to move fast. Doubling his speed, he ran for the barn, heedless of his cover. The conspirators' eyes were focused elsewhere, though, as they circled the knot of captives, guns reloaded and ready.

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Luke trembled as he was forced to his knees, hands clasped behind his head like all the others. He couldn't see Daisy and Jesse behind him, but he knew they were there. This is it, he thought. They had won. It was the end of the Dukes, once and for all. Boss Hogg and Roscoe weren't even there to see it. No, he corrected himself, Bo was still out there somewhere. He would carry on the family legacy.

Sonny was talking at the front of the captive group, smug and boastful. "You really made a mess of things, didn't you, Dan?" he asked, stopping in front of Agent Chalmers. "My, my. Thirty-four years in the agency, and this is what it comes to? And you, little lady," he stopped in front of Daisy. Luke bristled, fighting the urge to lunge at him anyway. "You country bumpkins need to learn when to keep your nose out of trouble. You shouldn't mess with us big boys," he mocked. "I told you, you picked the wrong night to visit, friend," he spoke in an aside to Cooter.

That was when the first sedan exploded.

Sonny whirled around, mouth agape at the plume of flame. The second car exploded before his eyes, throwing fragments of glass and metal into the air. He couldn't see the grin spreading across Luke Duke's face behind his back.

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Bo sent three more dynamite arrows flying through the air, bursting into flame in loose piles of hay scattered on the ground near the circle of thugs. Sonny's men dove for cover as a shower of dirt rained down and gouts of smoke billowed upwards. Bo cocked his ear for a moment, to be sure of the sound he heard, before smiling again. He dropped the bow and gathered up his tools – he gripped a large sheet of metal in his left hand, once an old cellar door but now a shield with the old handle for a grip. In his right hand, he held the metal pipe, solid and strong. Using the bow had cost him, though – he'd felt the stitches in his shoulder tear, and the bandage felt warm with blood. He ignored the pain and readied himself. He had to hold them just long enough.