A Time for Patriots

They were getting excellent images of the suspect’s entire desert facility, and it was indeed very impressive. It resembled a medieval town, with crop circles and groves of fruit trees in the outlying area, stockyards and maintenance buildings inside that, a variety of housing units from cabins to tents next, then a tall chain-link and stone fence surrounding the main compound. Inside the main compound were several houses, barns, warehouses, storage tanks, and an outdoor meeting area large enough for perhaps five hundred people. They saw several small sheds that many persons walked in and out of, way out of proportion to its size — that had to be entrances to an underground facility.

“All of that activity is being recorded and analyzed by our computers,” Jon said. “Then over time the computers will compare activity at certain times in different locations. If there’s a change in activity — a sudden marshaling of vehicles, or a large movement of people that’s out of the ordinary — the computer will alert us.”

“My agents have been doing that for decades, Masters — it’s called ‘police work,’ ” Chastain said dismissively, taking a sip of coffee and carefully studying the monitors. “Again with the sales pitch. Do you mind? We’re trying to work here.”

Jon held his hands up in surrender and departed.

Andorsen Park, Battle Mountain

Later that afternoon

Talk about coming down from an extreme high, Bradley thought: this morning I was soloing a high-tech turboprop airplane — now I’m scrubbing toilets for six dollars an hour, and thankful I’m doing so.

Brad picked up his cleanup kit and headed out of the men’s room at the city park’s rest facilities. It was still very warm, so the park was empty, but closer to sunset, folks would come out to barbecue or hang out. Brad was a sort of part-time security guard as well as janitor and maintenance man: if there were any problems, such as drug, alcohol, or hooker issues, his job was to call the police and get help; otherwise, his job was to clean the johns and urinals, empty the trash bins, and wipe down benches. After finishing the men’s toilets, his job was to scrub the women’s toilets, so he put out all the “Cleaners Working” and “Use Caution — Wet Floors” signs on his way to mucking out the ladies’ room.

A few minutes into his labors, he heard a voice say, “Hey, I know you.” He turned and found Department of Homeland Security special agent Cassandra Renaldo alone in the bathroom with him.

“Hello,” Brad said. Jeez, he thought, she looked hotter than ever. “What a… surprise.”

“Why, it’s Cadet Bradley James McLanahan, the Civil Air Patrol rescue hero,” Renaldo said. “Fancy meeting you here. Remember me? I’m Cassandra. Cassandra Renaldo.”

Oh yeah, I damn well do remember, he thought, checking out her breasts once again. He could see her hard nipples through her thin blouse from all the way across the bathroom. “I work here,” was all Brad could say, swallowing hard.

“You do?” Renaldo said.

“Just part-time.”

“Why, I think that is very diligent of you,” Renaldo said. “What a weird coincidence. I was heading out to Salt Lake City for a staff conference tomorrow morning, and I left the base without… you know, without stopping, and I spotted the park and decided to stop here. I was thinking of you. I thought, you are such an impressive young man. And suddenly poof, here you are, all by yourself, in the flesh. How lucky can I get?”

“Uh-huh,” Brad heard himself say.

“I think it’s so incredible that young men like you step up and get the training and perform the services you do in the Civil Air Patrol,” Renaldo said. “The whole world is changing, and young men like you are taking the lead in protecting your country and saving lives. You are so incredible, Bradley. Thank you so very much for your service.”

“You’re welcome.” He couldn’t seem to manage to get more than two or three words out at a time.

“So,” Renaldo said, putting her hands together, “are you… going to be done soon?”

“Oh!” Brad said, looking at the scrub brush and the gloves on his hands as if he forgot he had them on. “I’ll just get on out of here and wait… until… you know…”

“Okay.” As he walked toward the door, she put out an arm to stop him. “Brad? Can I call you Brad?”

“S-sure.”

“And you can call me Cassie.” She lowered her eyes. “I have a confession to make.”

“W-what?”

“I didn’t just happen to stop here on my way to Salt Lake City,” Renaldo said, looking deeply into his eyes and taking a deep breath, which only accentuated her breasts even more. “I knew you were going to be here.”

“You did? How?”

“It’s my job to find out things like that,” she said. “But the thing is… I learned that not because of business, but because I wanted to see you.” She lowered her eyes again. “I could lose my job if anyone found out.”

“Found out what?”