CHAPTER 11

I could hear Aunt Edith muttering to herself, "I'll wait until they're well out of sight before I call. They may think of something else they want to tell me, or they may have left something behind and decide they need to come back for some reason." It sounded like she was pacing the floor, or maybe straightening a few things. I decided to put her out of her misery and drove off as quickly as I could, re-parking the Cherokee next to the fenced-in playground of a local elementary school that was still within range of the transmitter.

She was making her call even before I put the car into "park".

"Hello, dear. . . Yes, they came. They said they'd take care of everything. They want me to leave town for my own safety. Isn't that just like them? –so thoughtful! . . . I told them I'd go visit Dorothy, in Greeley; although, Jack said I should tell anyone who asks that I'm going to Thermopolis, Wyoming, and that I'll be out of touch while I'm there, so they shouldn't try to contact me. . . Do you know what? I think I'd rather go to Thermopolis than to Dorothy's. I hear the hot springs there are just amazing, especially for people with arthritis. . . Really? You'll let me go? Oh, thank you, dear! That's wonderful! . . . What? You want me to buy one of those disposable cellphones, so that no one but you and Pete can call me while I'm there? Where do I—? Oh, okay. I'll go get one first thing in the morning and spend tonight packing my bag. . . Oh, dear! I'm going to have to buy myself a new bathing suit. . . George, are you sure this trip isn't going to cost too much money?. . . Yes, that's true: the mortgage has been paid off and our expenses are minimal these days . . . Thank you, dear; you're such a treasure! . . . You take care, too, and give Pete my love. . . All right, I will. Good night, dear."

As Aunt Edith hung up the phone, I took the receiver out of my ear. I was smiling. "It's a ruse," I told my brother, "—no doubt about it. She was talking to Uncle George. She's decided she'd rather go to Thermopolis than to her sister's house in Greeley. . . Having met Dorothy, I don't really blame her."

"So, then . . . tomorrow we tell Darla the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, right?" Mac asked.

"Yep," I confirmed.

"Good! I'm looking forward to seeing her face when we do," Mac replied, grinning impishly.

"Yeah, me too," I admitted, smiling softly as I started the Cherokee. "But," I reminded him as I put the vehicle into gear, "the hunt still belongs to us."

"Understood, bro. Understood." Mac folded his arms and sat back in his seat, looking thoughtful. "What say we get started on those clues as soon as we get home, huh?"

I looked over at my brother for just a moment, but it was long enough to get a good glare across. "Nothing doing! I wanna spend as much time with Darla as I possibly can. No way you're taking that away from me by jumping the gun tonight!"

"Okay, okay! Geez, don't bite my head off, Jack! I'm just anxious to get started, that's all."

"Why? The sooner we find Dad and Uncle George, the sooner you'll have to get back to your life in L.A.—which means leaving Jamie. Are you in a hurry to end that relationship before it even gets off the ground?"

"You've got a point." He nodded. "Okay. We'll take our time."

"Still, we don't wanna take too much time, or Dad'll get suspicious and think we're deliberately dragging our feet."

"But we are," Mac pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't want them to know that. We can't be too obvious about it."

"That's true . . ."

"Let's set ourselves a time limit of, say . . . two weeks?—tops, once we find the evidence. That'll give us some leeway in case we feel particularly thick or dimwitted once in a while."

"And it'll give me a little time to get to know Jamie better . . . although, I'm starting to wonder if I should even bother."

"Why?—because her ideas are a little . . . eccentric?"

"No, it's not that, it's just . . . it's what you said before—that sooner or later I'll have to go back to L.A. Then what? Do you really think—that in only two weeks' time—I can convince her to give up her job here and go to California with me? I'm not sure I'd even wanna try."

"Then maybe you should consider leaving your job with the NSA and moving back here," I said sagely. "You could always work for us. Homeland has offices here in Colorado, you know."

"I'll have to give it some thought and see how things go with Jamie over the next couple of weeks. If nothing of any real . . . significance develops between us by the time we find Dad and Uncle George, I guess I'll just head back to L.A. and that'll be that."

"But if things start to look promising . . ."

"I'll consider your offer and see how Jamie would feel about my moving back here and continuing to see her. I just don't wanna throw away my career for something that might not pan out."

"No relationship is a guaranteed success, bro," I told him "You've just gotta take your chances. Anyway, you wouldn't be throwing away your career; you'd just be switching horses, that's all."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yeah, it is," I said, slightly miffed. "You think it was easy for me?—admitting that I was getting too old to fly safely anymore?—that I had to find something else to do with my career, or retire from the Navy entirely? . . . That was a complete and total change of direction for me. I was a pilot, for crying out loud—a squadron leader. Now, I'm a gol-durned desk jockey, answerable to a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears politicians who think they can run the world better than God can. . . I wish I could go back to flying, but I can't. At least if you changed jobs you'd still be doing basically the same kind of work. You'd even have the same boss, generally speaking: the Government of the United States of America. I can pull some strings—lots of them—and get you whatever position you want in whatever section of Homeland interests you. They'd be glad to have you, believe me."

Mac nodded. "I'll think about it, I promise. But, as I said, a lot depends on Jamie."

"Just don't tell her that," I warned him as I pulled into the driveway. "Nothing'll scare a woman off faster than knowing that a man's future lies in her hands. Wait and see what happens; and, if you decide to move back here and change jobs, then tell her."

"But I still won't tell her that it has anything to do with her," Mac said while exiting the vehicle. "Instead I'll tell her that I'm moving back here because I found out I miss the place—that I'm homesick."

After I, too, got out—and locked the doors—I looked across the hood of the Cherokee at Mac and smiled a crooked smile. "Good plan," I said, heading toward the front door, "—real good plan. Even if she doesn't completely believe it, she'll be grateful that you're not laying the whole thing at her feet."

"Which gives her an out, if she wants one," my brother inferred.

"Exactly." I stopped on the stoop. "Cover me while I disarm the security system, would you?"

"Sure." Mac hovered near me, blocking the view of anyone who might be trying to get a peek at the numbers I was pushing on the keypad.

Once the alarm was turned off, I unlocked the door and we went inside. Then, while Mac shut the door behind us, I reset the alarm. "Man, I hate this thing!" I groused. "Turn it off, turn it on; set it, unset it. It's a royal pain!"

"Yeah, but at least we know we're safe."

"From housebreakers and thieves, yeah. But from terrorists?" I shook my head. "No one is totally safe from terrorists anymore."

"Your job has made you a cynic, Jack. Why would anyone want to attack Denver?"

Looking sternly at my brother, I reminded him, "We're only a hop, skip and jump from Colorado Springs and Cheyenne Mountain, Mac, and Denver is the most populous city in Colorado. Like it or not, it's a possible prime target."

Mac shook his head. "Not according to my sources. Buried under all that granite, it'd take way too much fire power to damage the Mountain to make it worthwhile; and Denver itself isn't all that highly strategic a target. We're safe enough—for now, anyway."

I nodded. "For now, maybe. But there're no guarantees when it comes to the future."

"True enough," my brother conceded. "Anyway, let's can the shop talk and spend the rest of the evening unwinding with some mindless entertainment. . . What's Dad got on DVD?"