Chapter 7

Ortega announced, “Is Miss Lilly X. Charles ready for her close-up yet? The paperwork is complete.”

I had an idea and handed a twenty-dollar bill to Monica. “Will you sell this office to me, the Science Advisor Plenipotentiary assigned to the United States Embassy in Italy, in perpetuity, for the sum of Twenty US Dollars, per annum? I promise to lease it back, cheap.”

She caught on an about a half second.

“OK.” She neatly wrote ‘I, Monica Gamboa, rightful owner of Trattoria Monica, located in the village of Bella Magdalena, hereby agree to sell the business office of said establishment to Dr. Theodore Charles of the US State Department, Foreign Service Division, assigned to the United States Embassy in Italy, Science Bureau, as Advisor Plenipotentiary in perpetuity, for the sum of Twenty US Dollars (US$ 20.00), plus the same amount, per annum as a cleaning and facilities management fee.’ on a sheet of fancy writing paper. We both signed after I noticed the altered punctuation. “For the witnesses, Margaret, Derek, please sign, date and list your titles on the bottom. Print clearly.”

They did, eager to complete the business. Sometimes the clues are in the big print. Unbidden, Allen put his notary seal to good use, now that we were back in America.

“Now, I’m ready to sign, Mr. Ortega, as soon as Lilly makes her debut on American soil.”

A light went on in Ambassador Howe’s eyes. “Because of the language used, this just became a satellite annex of the Embassy in Rome, subject to the same treaty agreements, and considered sovereign American territory, subject to US Laws. Everything we do here is as official and final as it can be.” She started laughing when Allen planted a small Stars ‘n Stripes in the pencil holder on the desk. “Is this a plot to make me crazy?”

“No such plot was intended, Madame Ambassador.” Ortega answered with a straight face. “I printed it as soon as I realized what Dr. Charles was doing. It seemed appropriate.”

“And what was Ted doing, exactly?” At least, Tillotson didn’t call me ‘doctor’. Little steps.

“What he did do, sir. There was no need to keep trying.” Ortega began.

“Don Theodore hates red tape. I sympathize.” Monica cut in. “He just bypassed our local courts, the governments of Italy and the EU, your Immigration service, any number of adoption control agencies, the UN and US Customs. We are legally in the District of Columbia. Even I saw that coming. He doesn’t think outside the box. He doesn’t know there is a box. With my consent, this is no longer part of Italy. A little imperialism isn’t all bad.”

“Anything we do here is legally binding unless there is a District statute specifically forbidding it, and since a specific Anti-Lilly Bill has never been signed by the President, her citizenship and adoption are grandfathered and permanent. Precedence is created for the transaction of other official business in this location. Apparently, you agreed since you signed off on the idea.” Allen’s cool demeanor dissolved. “No one told him he couldn’t do it, so he did. A bit of advice: Don’t mess with devious, determined science geeks who dislike red tape.”

“You were right, Daddy. It turned out to be a girl. She’s a keeper.” Laurie ended further speculation of my questionable methodology by announcing, “I present my soon-to-be sister, Miss Lilly Xiao Charles!”

People forgot to breathe, she was that perfect. Tiny and flawless, cuter than cute, Lilly’s smile was radiant. She had, once the layer of crud was gone, jet-black silken hair to the small of her back, brown eyes set in a sculpted, nearly European, porcelain China doll face, and the grace of a fairy princess in a pocket-sized, but proportionally precise, teenage Art Deco body ready to explode on the world.

Isabella and Laurie had chosen a sky blue, barely above-the-knee party dress, flared at the waist, an initialed necklace and white anklets with pale blue strappy 2-inch pumps. Her hair was tied with a white ribbon into a braided ponytail.

Ortega broke the spell by pulling up a white backdrop. “Miss Charles, stand here for your passport pictures. Dr. Charles, please read and sign these documents where indicated. Madame Ambassador and Under Secretary Tillotson, these are for you.”

The ceremony was remarkably short considering the gravity of the situation. Allen printed, stamped and affixed the picture to the passport, notarized a ream of paper, distributed copies and it was done.

Tillotson, in exaggerated but sincere ceremonial pomp, extended his hand. “Welcome to the United States of America, Miss Charles. I hope we don’t disappoint.”

She curtsied and shook his hand. Hers disappeared in his mitt. “Thank you, sir.” Then the teenager burst out in a joyous whoop and she raced out of the office to join the throng in the main dining room. Must have been a super charged cannoli.

“I now understand why you do what you do.” Derek admitted. “That is the face every negotiator should see every day of their life. Numbers are people, not bargaining points to be traded. I might as well become a consultant now because I’m going to be a lousy diplomat.”

“Or will you be the hard-nosed guy the opponents can’t scare and have to please in order to escape with their shirts?” Margaret countered. “You can learn to make it work in your favor, too. When you hate the game, change the rules. They won’t notice before it’s too late if you’re sneaky. Who knew we’d be standing on American soil in Bella Magdalena?”

“And yet here we are. Funny how things work out.” Derek grinned.

“I have a BA in History and an MS in Political Science.That seemed like a solid basis to enter the Foreign Service. Allen has an MBA and an undergraduate degree in Computer Science and Information Technology.” Madam Ambassador continued. “Derek, you have a BS in Comparative Literature and an MS in Political Science. And the rocket nerd pulls an end around and scores. We aren’t looking that smart.”

“Don’t feel so bad.” Laurie giggled before joining the chaos outside, “You should have paid attention to his dossier. I know you have one. Daddy has a BS in Aeronautical Engineering, an MS in Game Theory and a Doctorate in Metal Alloy Design and Analysis. Daddy always cheats fair and square with the latest toys.”

Monica nodded in approval. “He then delegates the aggravation to the professionals in charge of dealing with such things and goes on holiday. That you never know how good they are at dealing with aggravation proves just how good they are.”

“A last formality.” Margaret turned to Monica. “Ted agrees to sublet this space for the sum of 2 Euros per annum for your exclusive use whenever matters of national importance do not require our occupancy.” She grinned, “Which I hope is seldom.”

Now she was laughing her face off. “All of this maneuvering turned my humble restaurant into an multinational corporation. What’s not to like? Do I need to apply for a green card and work visa to plan my menus at the desk?”

“No, but I can have Allen make you one.” Margaret chuckled, “Humble restaurant, my ass, Monica. You have your dainty fingers in more pies than Sara Lee®.”

“Sign on the ‘X’, Signorina Gamboa.” Ortega handed the cards and a two Euro per year lease agreement to the Dona with a flourish. “Please collect the rent from the cashier on the way out of the American Sector. Thank you for your patronage.”

Tillotson chuckled. “And that’s why we call him the fixit guy. Things get done before anyone knows they need it.”

“But wait! There’s more. I need pictures of all the girls. I have IDs and suitable documentation for Consular AgriCultural Attachés, Embassy Family Members, the International Women’s Sports Initiative, the US/UK/Italian/Dutch/Norwegian/Swedish Young Ladies’ Education Exchange Programs, and corrected passports with diplomatic notations for the young ladies previously adopted by Theodore Charles. I will be busy for a while.”

He was busy for about thirty minutes, and when his printer and laminators were silent, all 26 girls were up-to-date. Sweet. Official ID cards, team memberships with authorizations from the appropriate nation and embassies party to our impromptu Intra-NATO good will coalition, etc.

The time line bothered me a little. Pawns cautious about caution?

At least a half hour passed between the time I transmitted the evidence to Rex Oceanus and when Vito called back. I knew Sam had been in touch with the Secretary of State before the video ‘interviews’. We were getting everything but the concealed-carry permits but that could be an endorsement code on the new ID cards.

Figure in that time, the actual duration of the interviews and another hour or so to take and make more calls, during which Sam talked to State again. Other countries were contacted. More discussions, prep to roll and time on the road is another hour and a half.

The math suggested that Monica called Washington before the gentle interrogations were happening. SecState authorized the official high-pressure visit to cope with Lilly. Whatever that sequence, at least a couple of hours had to be built in for approvals, ‘debate’ preps and travel time from Rome. Later, Allen had been in touch with Sam. Either Sam or Phil or the Secretary had spoken to the Ambassador to warn of my lack of orthodoxy. Word did not filter down to Tillotson.

I’m sure Monica told Secretary Linda Simons and Margaret Howe that I was sure to adopt the girl. (‘Are we agreed and committed?’ was the opening clue.) Did Monica tell SecState about Lilly before Sam first talked to Linda or after? Had to be before. Did Sam know of the Embassy ambush awaiting me in Bella Magdalena when we spoke last about the plans to get all the girls under our umbrella? Did Linda order him to keep mum? She probably didn’t even tell him.

The ‘He said/She said’ may have been ‘She said/He said’ and there may be a tiny variation in the timing or multiple calls between the same people. But whoever/whenever/whatever, no one said ‘Jack’ to me. The dramatic introduction to Lilly was just an informative piece of theater. No harm, no foul. I’ve done the same. The dramatic introduction to the Legion from Rome was just cheesy vaudeville. Until it wasn’t. They didn’t trust Monica, Sam or me very much.

My light bulb lit up. Linda and Margaret were using me to shock and rededicate the by-the-book Derek. Linda was using me to play with Margaret’s head and test Sam. Monica, realizing what was going on too late to stop it, became my accomplice. She quickly sold me the office and it was actually her idea to have them sign off on the document. Calling them out for being too dumb to see what I had in mind was her own payback for pulling this stunt in her restaurant.

The fact that she sold the space to me, not the Embassy, got lost in the brouhaha. Until I reached an agreement with the State Department, it was a satellite of the mission to Italy by declaration, not contract. They could be evicted. If the wannabe gamers read the terms carefully, they would realize they had accepted me as Science Advisor Plenipotentiary in perpetuity. The missing ‘comma’ was not a mistake. For my purposes, tenure was enough reason to give them a pass on using me as a training tool.

I don’t think our armed escort was going to give us a pass if we delayed any longer. “Signorina Gamboa, it’s late and we need to let everyone get where they need to be. Thank you for helping Lilly and thank you Embassy people for your quick and thorough efforts on our behalf. Give our regards to Rome, but we gotta hit the road before the folks at the resort start calling.”

“We don’t want them nervous and their guys have to get back. We’ll speak later, Ted. Have a safe trip.”

After a few more hand shakes and hugs, we were pulling out of town. My sat phone beeped immediately. John Endicott spoke quickly. “Ted, you can drive that beast, right?”

“Yes. I’m behind the wheel now. Tell me what to do.” Trouble. “What happened?”

“A snooper triggered. Victor Giancarlo found a tracker in Ms Anne’s chemist purchases. Sir Edward is taking it as a personal threat to his family. The clerk is under observation and the device is in the first blue Fiat ahead of you.” John chuckled. “Coincidentally, there is suspicious ‘roadwork’ up near the de Silva tract south of the amphitheater.”

“We’ve been running a mild fiction about our final destination today. Eavesdroppers would think ‘home’ is Rex Oceanus. We won’t be traveling that far, but a nosy listener might think differently. What’s the game? We’re all listening.”

“Earlier, one of Vito’s patrol guys noticed the makeshift barricade. Ian’s men, infiltrating from the west, report too many SUVs parked on the shoulder and some excavation but no actual construction. We expect all lanes to close just before the tracker approaches the chokepoint.” John cautioned, “Our parade will slow so you can turn into Via Santa Maria. The other bus will take your place in line. The cars pulling drag will slow down enough to keep followers out of sight.”

“Three card shuffle with vehicles. The convoy stops and the bad guys reenact the finale from ‘Bonnie and Clyde’. Please tell me you have super-armored the drivers.” I sighed. “Of course you have. But, John, this whole thing is dangerously open escalation. What happened to secret conspiracies behind the scenes? Gangland-style warfare is not subtle. Going on the offense is new.”

“You forgot the barrages of gunfire erupting from the rock-strewn woods on either side of the massacre on the tarmac. The ambushers get ambushed and exposed when the bus crashes the barrier.”

“So why this overt aggression? It’s a suicide mission. They’re bound to get caught. That is supposed to be a busload of schoolgirls. Immunity doesn’t cover premeditated mass murder as a rule, especially if caught in the act. Whatever, make sure they shoot first.”

“We didn’t let them review the videos. Lawyers get evidence thrown out. Without absolute proof, it probably will protect them from governments. They always expect to walk away unpunished. They didn’t plan on black ops this time.” He explained, “Operation Pay Back began last night with the known associates of the dead guys. The pace gained momentum with the video discoveries. Their friends also counted coup and kept reminders of the ‘parties’. Our ‘ghosts’ hit hard and fast with surgical precision. Generic weapons. No traces, no witnesses, and by the way, no innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. But rough justice was served, Old Testament style. For their motivation, habit is at the top of my list, followed by casual cruelty. I imagine this poorly conceived attack is either a general strike at anyone who might be remotely connected to the avenging angels, or a demonstration that your presumed intimidation business is real and thriving still. They’re too stupidly arrogant to back off.”

“Are you closer to knowing specifically who my presumed intimidators are?”

“We have our usual suspects, unreconstructed cold warriors, terrorist/revolutionary coalitions and drug cartels among them. Nothing definite.” He admitted. “We may know more tonight, assuming we have people who can be convinced to talk.”

“Talk or brag, believing we care one whit for their ‘immunity’. Wonder if this is a new business model for lobbyists? ‘Vote the way our clients want or we aim the untouchable sadistic psychopaths at your houses,’ is a hell of a bargaining chip.” I mused, “Puts a nasty spin on the ‘protection racket’ tactics, doesn’t it? For all we know, the old school wise-guys may be learning to update their skillset with new tools.”

“More incentive for us to empty the toolbox before they open for business on a global scale. The client list could be huge.” He chuckled sadly, “After roll-call, tonight’s continuing education class is a pop quiz.”

“Where are your and Vito’s guys?”

“The Gamboas are on alert at the Resort. Things appear quiet, but tense on the home front. The conference is on, but certain personnel are in flux. My guys assigned to the delegation are always visibly on the job. Others work where and when needed.”

“If the ambushers spring the trap and are met with deadly force, who cleans up the mess? I don’t think there is a carpet big enough to sweep this under.”

“Your “Consular Guard” shared ‘credible’ rumors of potential terrorist activity against OPEC. Acting purely in the interests of public safety, selected members of the Italian National Anti-terrorism Taskforce are investigating the surprise roadblock near the Resort, accompanied by elements of Sam’s US Consular Protective Detail and the Rex Oceanus Security Squad.” He laughed softly. “Imagine their delight when the terrorists are exposed as serial killers. Credit for the double bust goes to them with official responsibility for the clean-up.”

“If nothing happens, it is a training exercise. If everything happens, the taskforce is in the clear, looking like rock stars. Critics get real scarce. Who wants to be accused of sheltering terrorists and murderers by complaining about the lyricist?”

We chatted amiably until my turnoff came up. “Use the night vision glasses in the utility pouch under your window.” He advised. “Expect a call later from Lady Millicent.” The switch off was flawless. The convoy continued slowly north to the ambush site and we headed, lights out, to the Templar gate.

Isabella jumped out, keyed the entry codes and we were soon sealed inside while the crazy plots raveled outside in whatever ways Karma permitted.

Lt. Endicott’s entire conversation was on speakerphone. I wasn’t about to drive one-handed and the sound quality was a hint he could not have missed. I did tell him ‘we’re all listening.’ I think he used the opportunity to give the girls a bit of indirect reassurance. He did give them a sense of purpose.

Without prompting, the crew began unloading the loot from the shopping spree, the generous bounty from the grocers and the goodies from the trattoria kitchens. Monica’s buyers went overboard, making me suspicious. How long did they expect the siege to last?

Laurie, among the girls seated closest to the front of the bus (with Lilly, Sadie, Jane, the Smythes and Stephanie in the first two rows of benches. Isabella was riding shotgun.), noticed the overkill provisioning also.

“Do they anticipate a famine or what?” She asked, “I want to believe everyone is planning for any possible contingency but kinda think we don’t know the whole story. What contingency includes a ton of dry pasta, canned goods and rice?”

“I’m thinking Zombie Apocalypse.” Jane giggled. “Makes as much sense as anything else.”

“Another plausible scenario: Do you ever think all the different bits and pieces of information we see flying around are just that: different?” Pamela answered, “No doubt, nasty conspiracies exist and cover-ups happen, but it is possible that different parts of the same organizations are operating independently, playing internal one-upmanship?”

“Different parts of the same organizations or new organizations with unknown parts?” Lilly said. “They don’t know what they don’t know.”

“Everyone is working so hard to find the common denominator: Gamboas vs. Russians; Cartel vs. Russians; Cartel Cover-up vs. Police; Spy vs. Spy; Predators vs. Spy; Police vs. Predators; Sharks vs. Jets.” I conceded. “Maybe there is no connection, but we can’t be sure, so plans and fallbacks have to be considered. Nothing explains the roadblock tonight ... Oh Shit! It’s a diversion!”

“Isabella! Call Monica. Get all her people in a safe zone inside that fort she calls a trattoria. No strangers, newcomers or questions. Expect an attack. Now.”

“Anne. Call your dad. Pam. Call your mom. The roadblock is drawing troops away from the real target. Gina, you and Carla tell Vito and Elena the same. Get people to a safe room. Gear up now. Reinforce the approach routes. Lock down the main buildings. Mobilize the individual delegations. No one is safe.”

I called John. “Don’t ask. Do! Patch me in on comms with Ian. You have slow the convoy now. Delay the attack on the barricade. Buy time. Get your troops back to the resort on the double.”

Ian shouted code words to the air. “Working. Mission aborted. Heading home ASAP. Talk to me, Dr. Charles.”

“I’m certain it’s a trap. The crack forces are dealing with the ‘crisis’ off campus. No better time to stage a real terrorist attack on OPEC. If you are in a shoot out here, you can’t defend the fort. Someone knows the defenders are spread thin.”

“I’m in touch with the guards in the convoy. They can delay maybe thirty minutes by faking engine trouble, then they have to proceed.”

“Ask them to put the tracker in the bus at the last minute. Crank it and let it roll, empty, to the barricade. Stay clear. It might trip an IED to begin hostilities at Rex Oceanus. The Italian Taskforce can mop up the diversionary team and Monica’s guys can cover the southside retreat. The delay should allow you to get in behind the assault on the resort if you go now.”

Isabella called out. “Auntie Monica is on board. Bella Magdalena is a ghost town in five minutes. Massimo is setting patrols. The Dona has been in contact with Consul Sam. Howe, Ortega and Tillotson are OK. They weren’t for a while.”

“I heard that. Sam here. In route to the heliport, they were either attacked or interrupted an attack on the facility. The Marine escort pounded the crap out of people in bomb vests. One managed to blow himself up. The main terminal is secure. No IDs and no faces in our database. No one saw it coming. Somehow they avoided the information pipelines. Old school, pre-Internet communications is the only way. No digital tracks to hide. Word of mouth. Forgotten tradecraft resurrected. Compartmentalized. Suicidal fanatics patient enough to wait for the victims to create the opportunity to strike changes the rules. How long have these people been in place? Who are they?”

“Lilly X. Charles here. Sirs, I think the Internet makes people lazy. The truth is not going to be posted online for your convenience. It is always in the street. You need to find it before it finds you. What you don’t know will hurt you.”

“The veteran warriors are concentrating on the known facts, relying on past experience, waiting for the next hint. You can’t see the voids if you are reactive instead of analytical. The girls were wondering why there are empty spaces if we know so much. That got me thinking about what we don’t know and why. You can’t assemble a puzzle if parts are missing and you don’t know parts are missing if you don’t know what the final picture is supposed to look like. My girls are looking for answers to questions no one has asked before.”

That was answered by nothing but a huge intake of breath on their end. Then, from Sir Edward, “Look for what you don’t see. Wisdom from the mouths of babes. What shape are the voids? Listen to the silences not the noises.”

I continued on, “Sam, you make me wish I was wrong. But this is the only way the pieces fit. But it is not the picture we expected. John, start warning your counterparts in the other delegations. We have new players on the field, probably with a new agenda. Call it ‘Stranger Danger’. Make sure they understand that.” I ordered abruptly. Someone has to act like they have a plan. It was my turn to get the troops on the same page. “Have them set kill zones in their sectors. Expect suicide bombers and berserker attacks. Stay out of the blast radius.”

While we were talking, the good guys were scrambling, John’s SAS forces speeding north, Ian’s Special Forces right behind. Vito sealed the employee village and was calling OPEC representatives personally, vague about the details in case the wrong people overheard, but warning of unspecified immediate threats.

“Guys, use the forces in place at the resort to harden the anvil. Pick off obvious targets. Look for inappropriate clothing, furtive or unsure movements, anything to indicate suspicion. The others can close in and drop the hammer.” I lectured, as if I was the veteran fighter. “The guerillas that explode when shot have dead man switches and are the expendable pawns. The leaders will be carrying ranged weapons and probably remote control detonators. If possible and without endangering your team, double-tap headshots with rubber riot control slugs might knock them out, leaving someone to interrogate later. But it is important they be permanently out of the fight. Information is secondary to your safety.”

“Dr. Charles, I’ll instruct snipers to drop the disposables in groups and let collateral damage thin the herd.” Vito volunteered. “If innocent bystanders get injured it means they are not so innocent or too stupid to heed my warning and have elected to select themselves out of the gene pool.”

“Don Vito, excellent tactic. I like your style. Group rates at Darwin’s Express Travel Service. Send the bastards to hell with my compliments and roadmap. Good hunting and be aware of where your friends are.”

We could hear the conversations in the background. They were not pleasant. Sir Edward was in a righteous fury. Daughters had been singled out and if the tracker device did trip an IED, there would be hell to pay and nowhere to hide. Forget about Lady Millicent and Elena de Silva Gamboa. Pissed off Moms are in a class by themselves. It didn’t matter if the girls were safe. They had been targeted. The two made sure the women associated with the Swedish, British, United States, Norwegian, Italian and Dutch embassies knew it, too. Their men would be given the marching orders, screw the Geneva Conventions. Loose the Kraaken! The seas would boil red with the blood of those responsible if the Moms had anything to say about it. And they had a lot to say.

I would bet the farm Monica had already gnawed on Linda Simons’ ear. Gaming me was one thing, endangering the girls was another. If she had a hint something this big was brewing and failed to issue an alert, Signorina Gamboa would strangle her through the phone. Surely, the Ambassador in Rome would be in the loop and Ortega would have found some way to clue me in. He was a straight dealing kind of guy.

We had serious gaps in our intelligence communities if the Secretary of State was in the dark. Or these guys were very new to the world stage. But the intelligence community missed the Edwards/Sawyer defection plot. We did have leaks and weak links. But this was huge.

“Gotta have the channel back, Dr. Charles. I’ll call you later. If the cosmos reveals more twists, have Anne or Pamela call their Mom. Sir Edward is busy reading maps. I have a war to wage and buzzards to feed.” John cut me off. It would be what it would be.

We all grabbed some snack food and went out back to wait it out under a dark overcast sky. “It seemed like an exotic way to spend my birthday when I made the reservations, Pops. Now we have twenty-four more partiers and who knows how many social directors dealing with the itinerary and entertainment. Who knew it would get so complicated?”

“I think you would still have the Florida girls as sisters no matter where we went. But we would have never met the Gamboas, the Smythes, Stephanie, the basketball team, the Kansans or Lilly. I’m OK with things as they are.” I answered, looking at the crowd of faces listening nearby. “We cope with ‘complicated’ pretty well, Kiddo. Maybe not the way people expect, but well enough to keep us two steps away from the bad guys.”

“We left Amsterdam as an innocent basketball players. Now we’re gun-toting spies who ran naked through the streets and gave up our cherries to an American rocket scientist in the town square of a village in Italy.” Beatrix laughed. “Tonight I’m hanging out with my also fucked-in-public sister and our new friends in a plush Knights Templar Crusader fort waiting for the results of secret commando operations to come in. This is the best birthday party I ever crashed. Take that, 007!”

“If the spy business pans out, you still have a killer hook shot.” Marlena giggled. “Works with grenades, too.”

“It worked out best for Lilly.” Sadie said. “No telling what would have happened to her if there was no conversation to overhear at the train station in Turin and no reason to go to Bella Magdalena.”

“I do know she wasn’t going to pass for a boy much longer.” I grinned, looking at the tiny doll. “A Cassidy you’ll never be, but you are clearly a girl.”

“Thank you. I’ll happily be a Charles girl for you.” She smiled sweetly. “I have a new name and a home and people who care. I’m not a throwaway girl anymore. Sister Laurie said I was a keeper.”

“I need to call in a favor or two. Anne and Pamela, do you think your Mummy will ask a question or two for me? Or tell me where to ask my own?”

“Mummy’s network is bigger than Poppa’s. Men talk too much and ladies listen. Ladies talk but not so much around men.” Anne chuckled. “Depends on the man and the topic. Her network never forgets a rumor. Don’t worry, Mummy likes you.”

“Good, I think...”

A bright flash in the distance interrupted us. I heard Laurie count slowly to sixty. We heard a boom, crisper than thunder. “It’s started. 700 mph. 11.5 miles per minute. That’s the IED at the barricade. It was big. Somebody really wanted us dead.” She whispered. “I hope our friends make it through the night.”