Orchid Blues

45

Ham fired through the morning at targets of varying sizes, hitting everything with monotonous regularity.

"Tell me, Ham," Peck said, "how do you sight this thing in if you're in a place that's new to you?"

"Will we know the distance ahead of time?"

"Approximately."

"If somebody can pace it off, then I can preset the elevation; windage is another thing. I'll just have to guess, and I can't guarantee you a kill on the first shot."

Peck nodded gravely. "That's about what I thought."

"Would this be in a public place?"

Peck nodded again.

"You planning to use explosive shells?"

"Probably."

"Then I'd suggest firing a nonexplosive round the first time, followed by an explosive one. Won't take more than a couple of seconds to adjust the sights."

Peck nodded thoughtfully, then he looked at his watch. "Let's get some lunch," he said.

They got back into the truck, and Ham headed back toward Peck's house, but halfway there, he was directed to make a right turn, toward the lake.

"Let's drop your gear off at the bunkhouse," Peck said.

"Okay."

They arrived at a low, clapboard building, and Ham got his duffel from the back of the truck. It was much like a military barracks, one big room with a small office and heads at one end. There were two dozen bunks, and a dozen of them had gear piled on them.

"Pick a bunk," Peck said.

Ham chose the bunk nearest the heads. "Looks like you've got some new arrivals," he said, nodding toward the luggage on the other bunks.

Peck nodded. "By the way, have you got a cell phone?"

"Yep. In my duffel."

"Let me have it."

Ham retrieved the phone and handed it to Peck, who slipped it into a pocket. They got back into the truck, and Ham resisted the urge to ask why Peck wanted his cell phone. Peck answered his question anyway.

"We've been locked down since nine o'clock this morning," Peck said. "Nobody leaves for any reason, not even to buy groceries, without John's permission. Nobody makes a phone call; nobody sends smoke signals; nobody uses a reflecting mirror. Nobody travels or communicates, unless he wants to catch a bullet."

"Okay," Ham said, because he couldn't say anything else. "When do we jump off?"

"Next week. You'll be told when you need to know."

Today was Wednesday, Ham reflected, and these people were planning something very public the following week, and he had no way to communicate with Holly or Harry.

They drove back to the main house, got into line for food and sat at a picnic table with John.

"Peck told you we're locked down?" John asked.

"Yes."

"That okay with you? You got any loose ends that need tidying?"

Ham shook his head. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"I know you are, Ham. I think I'm beginning to know you better than you know yourself. I'm not ready to tell you what we're doing, but I can tell you this: you're going to be doing something good for your country and for the group. And you're going to enjoy it."

"Sounds good to me," Ham replied. "Excuse me, I've got to take a leak." He took his tray back, then walked toward the house, thinking furiously, trying to work out a plan. He entered the house, and on the way to the john, looked into Peck's office. A group of men was in the middle of some sort of discussion. He used the toilet, then slowly washed his hands, taking as much time as he reasonably could.

He left the john and walked back down the hall. Just ahead of him, the group from Peck's study were filing out of the room, no doubt headed for lunch. He made a show of looking at some flyers on a bulletin board, advertising right-wing literature for sale by mail order, then, when the last of the group was out of the house, he ducked into Peck's study.

He stopped directly under the smoke detector. "This is Ham," he said. "Listen up. They're planning something for next week, I don't know what or when, and the place is locked down, so I can't leave. You're going to have to get a phone to me, and it's going to have to be by water. I'm staying at a bunkhouse down by the lake, looks like a military barracks. I'll try to leave a light on to guide you. Put the phone in a plastic bag and leave it under a rock on the shore as close to the bunkhouse as you can. Do it tonight. I'll find it. That's all."

He hurried back to the picnic table and joined John and Peck.

"You were a long time," John said.

Ham patted his stomach. "I was a little late this morning; usually my bowels go like clockwork."

John nodded. "Peck tells me you're ready with the Barrett's rifle," he said. "I didn't expect it to happen so quickly."

"Given the circumstances, what I've got to do is practice sighting in the rifle with one shot," Ham said.

"I want to work on a moving target, too," Peck added. "Just in case."

"Good idea," John said. "You never know what might happen, the target could be rolling."

"Can you slow it down?" Ham asked.

"Probably."

"Then it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"You see?" John said to Peck. "I told you he was a can-do guy."