They were just milling around, but it was impossible to miss their rifles, slung over their shoulders. As both men watched, they divided into four groups and started moving off the road. A moment later, they were lost in the trees.
"It'll take 'em about three hours to get here, Cap'n," Ding estimated.
"By that time we'll be six miles north. Get ready to move." Ramirez set up his satellite radio.
"VARIABLE, this is KNIFE, over." He got a reply on the first call.
"KNIFE, this is VARIABLE. We read you loud and clear. Over."
"KNIFE reports armed men entering the woods five miles east-southeast our position. Estimate reinforced platoon in strength, and heading our way."
"Are they soldiers, over."
"Negative - say again, negative. Weapons in evidence, but no uniforms. I repeat, they do not appear to be wearing uniforms. We are getting ready to move."
"Roger that, KNIFE. Move immediately, check in when you can. We'll try to find out what's going on."
"Roger. KNIFE out."
"What's that all about?" one of the case officers asked.
"I don't know. I wish Clark was here," the other said. "Let's check in with Langley."
Jackson managed to catch a United red-eye flight out of San Francisco direct to Dulles International Airport. Admiral Painter had called ahead, and a Navy sedan took him to Washington National, where his Corvette had been parked, and remarkably enough, not stolen. Robby had played it all back and forth in his mind during the entire flight. In the abstract, CIA operations were fun things to think about: spies skulking about and doing whatever the hell it was that they did. He didn't especially mind what this one was doing, but, damn it, the Navy was being used, and you didn't do that without letting people know. His first stop was at his home to change clothes. Then he made a phone call.
Ryan was home, and enjoying it. He'd managed to get home Friday evening a few minutes ahead of his wife's return from Hopkins and slept in late Saturday to shake off the lingering effects of travel shock. The remainder of the day had been devoted to playing with his kids and taking them to Saturday-night mass so that he could get another long night's sleep, plus reacquainting himself with his wife. Now he was sitting on his John Deere lawn tractor. He might be one of the top people in CIA, but he still cut his own grass. Others seeded and fertilized, but for Jack the pastoral act of cutting was therapy. It was a three-hour done every two weeks - somewhat more often in the spring as by now the growth rate was down to a reasonable level. Jack enjoyed the smell of the cut grass. For that matter, he enjoyed the greasy smell of the tractor and the vibration of the motor. He couldn't entirely escape reality, of course. Clipped to his belt was a portable telephone whose electronic chiming was noticeable over the rumble of the tractor. Jack switched off as he hit the activation button on the phone.
"Hello."
"Jack? Rob."
"How you doing, Robby?"
"Just got myself frocked."
"Congratulations,
"Call it affirmative action, lettin' the aviators catch up with the bubbleheads. Hey, Sissy and I are heading over to Annapolis. Any problem we stop by on the way?"
"Hell, no. How about lunch?"
"Sure it's no trouble?" Jackson asked.
"Robby, give me a break," Ryan replied. "Since when did you get humble on me?"
"Ever since you got important and all."
Ryan violated an FCC rule with his retort.
"Little over an hour okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be finished the grass by then. See ya', bud." Ryan terminated the call and placed one to his house, which had three lines. It was, perversely, a long-distance call. He needed a D.C. line for his work. Cathy needed a Baltimore connection for hers, plus a local line for other matters.
"Hello?" Cathy answered.
"Rob and Sis are coming over for lunch," Jack told his wife. "How about hot dogs on the grill?"
"My hair's a mess!" Caroline Ryan announced.
"Okay, I'll grill that, too. Can you set up the charcoal for me? I ought to be finished out here in twenty minutes or so."
In fact, it took just over thirty. Ryan parked the mower in the garage next to his Jaguar and went into the house to wash up. He had to shave, too, which he barely finished doing when Robby pulled into the driveway.
"How the hell did you make it this fast?" Jack demanded. He still wearing his dingy cut-offs.
"You prefer I should be late, Dr. Ryan?" Robby asked as he and his wife got out of the car. Cathy appeared at the door. Handshakes and kisses were exchanged as everyone caught up with what they'd been doing since the last time they'd gotten together. Cathy and Sissy went into the living room while Jack and Robby got the hot dogs and walked out to the deck. The charcoal wasn't quite ready yet.
"So how do you like being a captain?"
