THAT EVENING. PUEBLO, COLORADO. 5:30 PM MST. MONDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2025.
Heather had barely
sat down to eat at the communal mess hall when Patrick, out of
breath, delivered the urgent eyes-only message from Larry Mensche;
it had FAR stamped on it. Grumbling, and hastily dumping her plate
of noodles and grouse-nuggets into a go-bag, she headed back for
her office, reminding herself over and over that Larry didn’t send
messages of that kind in any situation except one where most agents
would have been screaming for a regiment of infantry.
With Leo settled into
his crib, she opened the envelope, read, and sat up as if she’d
been shocked. Leo did his nervous cry, the one that meant he felt
something wrong, and she went over to comfort him. “Me, too,
kid.”
Larry had provided
her with a cc: list; she could see at once what he was doing,
making sure no one could intercept or sweep it under the
rug.
She said, “Come in,”
to the knock at the door before she had time to think.
Debbie Mensche was
there, with Beth, Ysabel, Dan Samson, and Roger Jackson. “I kind of
thought you’d want to have your team together,” she said, “after I
got the note from Dad, so I rounded’em up and brought them
here.”
It was everyone from
the cc: list except for James and Arnie. Heather said, “I think
we’d all better sit for a moment, if you can all find somewhere to
do it. Deb, brilliant idea, you’re right. I take it you didn’t
bring Arnie or James because—”
“Because they’re the
only two other guys it can be,” Debbie said. “I grabbed Beth first
because I wasn’t gonna believe Beth would’ve betrayed Jason; she
alibied Izzy. I knew our missions were decoys, but you’d kept that
information from Roger and Dan, so they were clean. That leaves
James and Arnie. James is probably at home, this time of day;
Arnie’s teaching a math class over in the literacy program. By now
I bet they’ve both read Dad’s note. I don’t know how we
can—”
James burst in,
panting, out of breath. He looked at who else was in the room. His
expression of relief was amazing and overwhelming. “All right,” he
said. “It looks like everyone is here, and I’ll be happy to explain
why it’s Arnie you want, and not me, but you’d better get someone
over to the secure holding facility, now, to protect Leslie. If they just stand outside
and don’t let Arnie in, we can probably—”
“Dan—” Heather didn’t
speak the rest of her sentence because Samson and Jackson were both
already gone.