“I wanted to tell you three things. First, I closed the deal with our militia friends in Florida. That makes fifty groups now. A complete set.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, indeed. The incentives and product samples did the trick. And they said that they are very much on board for our little party.”

“Okay, that’s awesome. But you could have told me this tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow,” said Sunday.

“Technically, but I just got into bed. What’s the second thing?”

“HK is shipping the support materials out.”

“Again, that could have waited until tomorrow.”

“This last little bit of gossip can’t wait,” said Sunday. “Joe Ledger is on a plane to these United States. His flight left not five minutes ago.”

Kuga was completely awake now. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Where’s he going?”

“Fort Lauderdale.”

“What?”

“Yes. Isn’t that interesting? Clearly, he knows something, and I wonder how he could have gotten wind of anything related to our little venture. Tell me, Kuga, who all knew about that?”

“Just you, Santoro, and me.”

“Yes,” said Sunday. “I find that very interesting. You didn’t blab, and I know I didn’t. I wonder … I wonder how Ledger got wind of this?”

Kuga got up and walked to the window. The mansion was huge and the night outside vast, but suddenly, it felt like all the walls were closing in on him.

“Where’s Stafford?”

“I sent him after Ledger in your fast little jet,” said Sunday. “It’s what Rafael should have done.”

PART 7

PATRIOTS

But I’ve a rendezvous with Death

At midnight in some flaming town

—ALAN SEEGER

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

—WILFRED OWEN

CHAPTER 143

TIMIȘOARA TRAIAN VUIA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

I found a quiet place in the airport and made a call that I didn’t want to make.

No, not Junie. I was still too much of a coward for that. Maybe I’d never find the courage. Maybe I wouldn’t live long enough to have to.

God, what Rudy would make of that thought. Me thinking that death was an easier, healthier, better choice than calling the woman I love. What a hero.

So, the call I actually made was to Church. His private line. Last thing I wanted was to have the call broadcast over the speakers at the TOC.

Church answered right away, and his voice was, understandably, cautious.

“Outlaw,” he said.

“Boss.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“A bit.”

“The intel you sent has been quite useful.”

“It’s scaring the hell out of me,” I said.