Cueto reached up, placed one hand on Franks’ shoulder, and looked him square in the eyes, an act which took a lot of balls. “Because Myers was smarter than either of us, and he warned me months ago to be ready for some big clandestine bullshit. Because I know you’re a cold-ass motherfucker, but everything you do, no matter how squirrely it might seem, is always for the safety of this country. Because Stricken is a power-grubbing piece-of-shit wannabe tyrant and I didn’t sign up to work for the fucking Gestapo. But mostly because I took an oath to defend this nation from enemies foreign and domestic, and it don’t get more foreign than the fucking devil.” Cueto let go of Franks and stepped back. “That’s why.”

“Thanks.” There he was, using that word again. The last week had set a new record for him.

“Every last one of my boys would say the same thing, only they won’t ever have to, because if we get burned I’ve already instructed them to blame me and tell the authorities that I lied and said you were undercover the whole time, and I ordered them to help you.”

“Good idea.”

“Not really. If we get caught I intend to say the same thing, only that I got my orders from Myers, and they’re going to have a hell of a time interrogating him. Passing the blame is Fed 101. Now let’s go plan this illegal operation of yours.”

They started back, but Franks paused to take a long look around. It was still easy to pick out the rocky ridge where he’d first met General Washington. The place really hadn’t changed that much.

“You okay, Franks?”

He’d been thinking about the hundreds of worthwhile humans he’d known, and how almost all of them were gone now, their brief lives sacrificed in the pursuit of something greater than themselves, but Franks just shook his head and kept walking.

“I’ve got something interesting in that area, Franks,” Archer shouted when he saw them returning to the armored truck. “The only thing there is an old airfield with a few small hangar buildings on it. It’s privately owned now by a shell corporation that doesn’t seem to do anything else. No neighbors, on the end of an isolated road, and there’s plenty of land to hide something big. Stricken’s got a rep for being a hands-on guy, so this is close enough for him to visit and still commute to do his regular advisor job. And it is a quick chopper flight from where they went after you at the shipyard. If it smells like a secret base . . .”