“Is that an objective assessment or hubris?”

“Bit of both, probably,” I admitted. “But it’s what I’m going to do. My question is whether you’re going to lecture or help.”

Was there a faintness of a sigh on the other end of the call? Not sure.

He said, “Tell me what you need.”

“For starters, a full field kit,” I said. “The works. Body armor, a coms unit, an ass-load of weapons, blaster-plasters, Q1 substation and tactical computer, Lightning Bugs, Busy-Bees and Killer Bees, a new Snellig and plenty of Sandman, a Wilson knife—you know the style I like. And anything else you think I could use.”

“Done. I can have someone meet you with it.”

“No. I want it waiting for me when I reach LaBorde. Have them drop it off at my dad’s friend’s house. Hap Collins.” I gave him the address.

“Very well. What else?”

“Intel on that group the New Founding Fathers. If they have a clubhouse or something, I want to know where. If you can get names and addresses of their leaders and key members, get me that, too. Can you do all that?”

“Of course,” he said. “What about backup?”

I hung up on him.

CHAPTER 155

THE PAVILION

BLUE DIAMOND ELITE TRAINING CENTER

STEVENS COUNTY, WASHINGTON

Top and Bunny walked into the administration building as if they had every right to be there. Stealth, they knew, came in a variety of forms, and sometimes brashness was the right method.

There was no one there, however.

The assistant was still overseeing the loading of the team’s equipment.

Bunny carried the camouflaged gear bag Andrea had quietly left for them. He unzipped it, and they strapped on gun belts and shoulder rigs—the former for their Sig Sauers, the latter for the dart guns. Another item in the bag was Bunny’s favorite playtoy, an Atchisson assault shotgun with a thirty-two-round drum magazine. He slapped in the drum and smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Be careful with that, Farm Boy,” said Top.

“You tell your grandma how to suck eggs?”

“No, my granny didn’t blow the fuck up when she did.”

“Yeah. Okay. There’s that,” said Bunny. “Guess I’ll have to shoot them real careful like.”

Top shook his head, muttering, “‘Shoot them real careful like.’ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

They stuffed their pockets with the small Lightning Bugs and fitted extra magazines into the belt slots and in pouches on chest harnesses. They did not have body armor, and neither wanted to wear the versions available for the Fixers. Wearing suicide vests had little appeal for either of them.

Bunny stood watch as Top set up the small MindReader Q1 substation, attaching various cables to the desktop computers. MindReader cracked through the sophisticated Pavilion security in under a minute. Top began opening transportation and logistics folders and suddenly froze.

“Ho-leeeee shit,” he breathed.

“What is it?” asked Bunny, turning from the window.