“He’s Chico,” Dean said. “He lives here on the commune. I met him last night while you all were meeting. I had a feeling Dad was going to stick me here while he went after that bastard who killed Krysty and Jak, so I talked to Chico about my problem.”
“What did he say?” Doc asked.
“He didn’t. He brought me here and introduced me to Santos.”
The two boys stepped through the gate. Doc followed.
Inside the ring was a massive gray Appaloosa with a thick neck and stocky body.
“Meet Santos. Chico’s going to let me borrow him,” Dean told Doc. “Santos belonged to Chico’s dad, who was one of the people chilled here a few years back by Poseidon.”
Doc eyed the horse. “A most magnificent—not to mention, massive—creature.”
“He can hold us both with no problem, right, Chico?” Dean reached up and stroked the creature’s neck.
“Right,” the boy replied. “He’s a good horse.”
“If you intended to travel by horseback, why did you lead me to think we were going to be walking?” Doc asked peevishly.
“Wanted to know how serious you were. If you were going to walk, I knew you weren’t going to try and talk me out of going.”
“It is not my role to talk you out of anything,” Doc said. “I am not your parent.”
“Aces on the line, Doc. That’s what I thought!”
Doc took Dean to one side away from the boy and the animal. “And how do you propose to return this animal, in case, well, you know…?”
“There’s an old burned-out gas station on the way to the base,” Dean said. “Chico’s rode that far without his mom knowing. We’re going to leave Santos there. If we haven’t returned in a day or so, Chico will come out and get the horse back.”
Doc scratched his head.
“You are a master schemer, Dean. I am not so sure expanding your education at the Brody school was such a good idea after all.”
“WHAT CAN YOU TELL ME about this nuke sub Poseidon’s got?” Ryan turned and asked the man who had identified himself as Edgerton.
Edgerton stayed silent, his body bouncing in the seat as the wag made its way back down the old two-lane blacktop toward Kings Point.
“Name, rank and serial number is all you’re going to get, Cawdor,” Carter said. “That was the drill when I ran with Poseidon.”
“You were a merc for him?” J.B. asked from the driver’s seat.
“For about a year. Got tired of the pecking order. Besides, I hate taking orders. I’d heard about the commune upstate and decided that way of life sounded a lot more appealing.”
“Did you ever get near the sub?” Ryan asked the tattooed man.
“No, I wasn’t classified.” Carter replied. “It’s a big bastard, between five and six hundred yards long. Supposed to run off a pressurized water reactor. That’s what’s powered by the nuke generator.”
Carter continued. “As I understand it, and he did give us a briefing one time in case things went to hell in a hurry, inside the reactor are fuel rods that produce the needed energy by nuclear fission. The water from the pressurizer is superheated in the reactor core and passed to a heat exchanger where it creates the steam to power the turbines.”
“What happens if the nuke engine goes off-line?”
“Sub should have backup diesel engines in case the reactor fails. Trick there is fuel, but I know Poseidon must have an ample supply since he’s been running these wags back and forth.”
“You want us to try and take out the sub first or the buildings?” Mildred asked.
“Buildings,” Carter replied. “Or any big wags you see like this one. The submarine pens will be closely watched, but other sections are left open since there’s nothing worth stealing. Hit as many as you can and make damned sure the timers are synchronized.”
All in the wag but Edgerton checked their chronos.
“Midnight, and we’re out of there and back to the wag. Even if all of the objectives aren’t met.”
“They will be,” Shauna said as the last remnants of the compassionate woman the group had first met slid away and were replaced with the mind-set of an assassin. “Ryan and I have our own assignment.”