A Time for Patriots

“First, sign the contract, Brad,” Chastain said. “If you don’t, you’ll be placed under arrest and taken to my office in San Francisco tonight, in-processed, jailed, then taken in front of a federal judge and formally charged. You’re not a minor anymore, so your father won’t know where you’ve been taken until after you’ve been arraigned, which could take a couple days.” Brad’s face turned pale, and his mouth dropped open in shock. “By the time you’re released on bail, Agent Renaldo will be out of a job, and I’ll charge her with conspiracy and aiding and abetting several felonies, and put her in jail too. I’m sure we’ll find that she helped you get in here so you could steal the computers and classified materials, and gave you the cocaine as well.”

“No! She… she didn’t do anything …”

“That’s for a judge and jury to decide, Brad,” Chastain said evenly. “Unless you sign this contract, I’ll have no choice in the matter. You’ll be in jail, I can’t do anything more, and your life will change forever. Your dad won’t be able to help you.” Brad hesitated, trying to clear the cobwebs out of his head enough to think. Chastain waited a few seconds, then shook his head and looked over his shoulder. “Brady, cuff him in back again and read him his rights,” he said with a dismissive sigh. “Then go arrest Renaldo, and alert the office that we’ll be bringing in two prisoners tonight — separately. I’ll need the—”

“No, wait! I’ll sign it,” Brad said, and he snatched up the pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the page, with Agent Brady taking a photograph as he did it. “Okay, I agree. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t arrest Cassandra.”

“Good choice, Brad,” Chastain said. “Your future, and Agent Renaldo’s career, are still intact… as long as you do exactly what I tell you to do.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Simple,” Chastain said. “You will tell me everything your father does, where he goes, and whom he meets and talks with. Whenever possible, you will accompany him and tell me whom he meets with, where, and when.”

“My… my father…?”

“This is not open for debate or question, Brad,” Chastain said. “You do what I tell you to do, or you go to jail, period . Where he goes and whom he meets with; go with him whenever you can.” He gave Brad a card. “That’s my secure text-message and e-mail address. I expect a detailed report three times a day, or more. If I don’t get it, you’re going to jail, and all the evidence I have gets turned over to the U.S. attorney, along with Cassandra.” He motioned to Brady, who took his handcuffs off. “Now get out of here, don’t tell anyone about this, don’t ever see Renaldo again, and never come near this building again.”

Brad leaped out of the chair, stumbled, then started crawling for the hangar door, his legs unable to support his weight. Brady grabbed him by the back of his neck, carried him to the door, and tossed him outside. “So much for the tough football player,” he said when he returned, laughing. He theatrically sniffed near the desk. “Why, I think I smell a hint of scared-shitless piss over here.”

“He may be eighteen, but he’s just a kid,” Chastain said. “He’s been babied and pampered by his war-hero father his entire life.”

“He may be a boy, but he’s a very big boy,” Cassandra Renaldo said as she walked over to the others.

“Good job, Renaldo,” Chastain said. “Sorry to take away your new plaything, but it’s the best way to see if there’s any connection between the general, the Knights, and the Civil Air Patrol.”

“He was fun,” Renaldo said dismissively, lighting a cigarette, “but business is business. I still don’t think the general is up to anything, but young stud muffin Bradley will tell us.”

“What if he tells his father what’s happened?” Brady asked. “The general has some pretty powerful friends.”

“If he did, what’s he doing in Battle Mountain, Nevada?” Chastain said. “That’s only one of many questions I want answered, and I think the boy will get them for us.”

Joint Air Base Battle Mountain

The next morning

Thankfully no one was there when Brad got up. He dressed in workout clothes, had a light breakfast, then picked up his cell phone. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, big guy.”

“I’m going to practice. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take Captain de Carteret up in the P210 this morning, fly some patrols and take more sensor images, then take Colonel Spara up later,” Patrick replied. “There’re thunderstorms forecast for this evening, so I don’t think we’ll be flying tonight. What time did you get in last night?”

“Ten-thirty.” Brad swallowed, then said, “I… I got into a little fight last night outside the bowling alley.”

“ What? A fight?”

“No big deal, just an argument over a stupid game,” Brad lied. “The guy claimed he put money in the machine I was playing on, but he didn’t, and I guess him and a friend waited for me outside.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just a few bruises. I’m still going to practice.”

“Did you report it to base security?”

“No. I… I kinda started it.”