Chapters (34)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- EPILOGUE
- Also by
- Praise for Harold Coyle
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- MORE THAN COURAGE
- Copyright Page
Scott wanted to say, “I rest my case,” but felt that such a mundane statement would miss the point. Instead, he simply acknowledged Colonel Gordon’s pronouncement with a nod and continued on as he looked into the eyes of his senior commanders. “Do not be so quick to decide how, exactly, you would meet such a moral dilemma,” Scott stated. “What is clear here, in this comfortable room surrounded by like-minded people, may not be as crystal clear when you find yourself face to face with the real thing.”
While Scott reached for his second can of Diet Coke, Timothy Bates, the commander of the division’s support command, coughed before throwing out his question. “Perhaps this may be a bit presumptuous, but as we discuss this topic, does the general have a particular contingency in mind?”
Scott looked up. He knew the situation in Idaho was on everyone’s mind, especially after his own wife aired an incredibly damning expose on the FBI and the hostility that had arisen from its actions in Idaho. It was just a question, he had realized when he had walked into the room, of how long it would be before one of his outspoken commanders brought that particular question up. “It was the Wyoming affair that prompted me to propose this subject as an item to be covered in a commanders’ conference,” Scott replied slowly as he pulled the tab on his can of soda. “Any thoughts that the timing of this discussion and events in Idaho are anything but coincidental are dead wrong. After all,” Scott went on, leaning back in his chair and sporting a smile, “anyone who has seen firsthand how Jan and I coordinate our affairs at home would know we could never achieve this degree of synchronization in a million years.”
This brought a ripple of laughter and, Scott hoped, an end to any such thoughts. “Now, where was I?”
Bob Felden leaned over to whisper in Scott’s good ear. “You were about to elaborate on a second point.”
Scott threw his head back. “Ah yes,” he called out in his best John Cleese imitation. “I have two points to make. No, three, three points!”
With the mood lightened, Scott led his senior officers into further discussion of the topic, a topic that he, if the truth were known, was quite uncomfortable with himself.