Standing up, Simonson wiped his hands on his trousers and stared at Nancy. “Colonel, I want you to keep a lid on the place. No one is to draw any ammunition without a written order from me. Is that clear? I have a nasty feeling,” he added quickly, “things are going to get stupid around here right quick. I’d hate to see our people, or anyone else for that matter, running around armed to the teeth. Somewhere, someone is bound to do something unsmart. That, you can be sure of. There’s not much I can do to stop them. But I can make damned sure the wrong folks don’t get their hands on the good stuff.”

Her superior didn’t need to explain any more. While she had been shedding her civvies and breaking out a set of freshly laundered BDUs, she had managed to catch glimpses of the news. One of the more troubling reports was filed by an old acquaintance, Jan Fields. Besides interviewing the usual suspects, Jan Fields managed to find the leader of one of Idaho’s most notorious militia groups, a man by the name of Louis Garvey. When asked by Jan what he and his group intended to do, the self appointed militia leader puffed out his chest and faced the camera head on. “We’ll do anything necessary,” he stated proudly, “to protect the sovereign rights of this state and its people. Anything.”

So it wasn’t the nature of the threat that worried her. Rather, it was the question regarding her authority. “If that’s the case, sir,” Nancy asked in an effort to extract as much guidance from her superior as possible, “what are the rules of engagement?”

“Rules of engagement?” Simonson asked rhetorically. “Colonel,” he said as he leaned over his desk, supporting his upper body on his outstretched arms and knuckles. “Do whatever you need to do to keep all unauthorized personnel away from that ammunition.”

“Who, sir,” Kozak pressed on, “is authorized to draw ammunition?”

Growing angry, more from his own perceived impotence than from her questions, Simonson snapped. “As far as you and I are concerned, no one is. Understood?”

Coming to attention, Nancy saluted. “Understood.” Knowing that there was nothing more to gain there, she smartly pivoted about on her heels, just as she had in the old days, when she had been serving with the best, and marched out of Colonel Simonson’s office. She had a mission. Her orders were clear and, at a time like this, quite sensible. Now all she needed to do was gather her forces, organize them to do as she was ordered to, and make sure that they understood as clearly as she did the importance of their task.

FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA • EVENING, OCTOBER 30