up and down the street. Alex could tell he was wondering whether he was going to need assistance from the local police – exactly the sort of attention that Alex wanted to avoid. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a roll of notes, peeled off two hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the table.
‘Just a steak, rare, and keep the change.’
The waiter’s eyes darted from the money to Alex, then back to the money.
‘Just a rare one, then I’m gone,’ Alex said again, and slid the notes across the table.
The waiter’s lips pursed for a second before pulling up into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘One rare steak, very good, sir. Would you like fries and salad?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Just the steak, and make it a big one – half a cow.’
The waiter laughed obsequiously, and backed away into the dark interior of the restaurant.
Alex exhaled, sat back and rubbed a hand through his hair. He kept the hand up, examining it as he curled it into a fist. The knuckles popped and stood out, raised and callused. They looked hard enough to break rock – which they could. He dropped his hand, slid down a few inches in his chair and reflected on his coming meeting. He wanted to trust Colonel Jack Hammerson, and for the most part he felt he could. He had saved Hammerson’s life in the Appalachians, and in turn the tough old soldier had had his back more times than Alex could remember. But there was a seed of doubt that urged caution.
Before he’d seen Aimee and the kid, Alex had wanted to disappear; he’d even wished for death. But seeing them had changed everything. They made him want to live again. But as long as he suffered these uncontrollable rages, he was a danger to them. He couldn’t protect them if he was far away, but he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t hurt them if he was close. There had to be an answer. If Hammerson wanted something from him, then he would need to trade for it.
The waiter put a coffee down, and Alex drained it in one. Next came the steak. He looked at it and nodded. ‘Nice.’ The thick and bloody slab of meat hung over the sides of the plate. Alex ate slowly, savoring every bite.
As he chewed, he watched the surrounding area. Half a mile down the road, Antelope Park’s manicured lawns and memorial displays were just visible. The nearest monument was two huge slabs of black polished marble, each seven feet tall, containing hundreds of names of local soldiers lost in Vietnam. Further in, a ghostly platoon of statues, nearly twenty of them, in rain ponchos and helmets, marched eternally as a tribute to those who’d died in the Korean War. Alex stared at the frozen marchers. He too had served, and fallen, but he’d woken and come back, whether he liked it or not. The day would come when he stayed down, but unlike these men, he would be remembered by few.
Alex sensed the approach of the van before it glided into the end of the street. He watched as it pulled in a few blocks down from the cafe. Even though its windows were darkened, he knew the HAWC commander was inside. He also knew he hadn’t come alone.
Alex eased back behind the plants. The van’s front door opened and a solidly built older man stepped out onto the sidewalk. He rolled his sleeves down, placed his hands on his hips and turned slowly to scan the street from all angles. Colonel Jack ‘Hammer’ Hammerson. He put a hand over his eyes as though to shield them from the sun; his thumb was curled and Alex knew he held a scope. He turned slowly, stopping at the cafe building. Even though he doubted Hammerson would spot him, Alex backed further in behind a thick palm.
The van’s side door slid back and the vehicle tilted sideways and down as one of the largest men Alex had ever seen – all shoulders and arms, and slightly older than himself – stepped down. Something about the way the man moved was odd, but Alex immediately knew him: First Lieutenant Sam Reid – Uncle Sam. The name came back to him
‘Just a steak, rare, and keep the change.’
The waiter’s eyes darted from the money to Alex, then back to the money.
‘Just a rare one, then I’m gone,’ Alex said again, and slid the notes across the table.
The waiter’s lips pursed for a second before pulling up into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘One rare steak, very good, sir. Would you like fries and salad?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Just the steak, and make it a big one – half a cow.’
The waiter laughed obsequiously, and backed away into the dark interior of the restaurant.
Alex exhaled, sat back and rubbed a hand through his hair. He kept the hand up, examining it as he curled it into a fist. The knuckles popped and stood out, raised and callused. They looked hard enough to break rock – which they could. He dropped his hand, slid down a few inches in his chair and reflected on his coming meeting. He wanted to trust Colonel Jack Hammerson, and for the most part he felt he could. He had saved Hammerson’s life in the Appalachians, and in turn the tough old soldier had had his back more times than Alex could remember. But there was a seed of doubt that urged caution.
Before he’d seen Aimee and the kid, Alex had wanted to disappear; he’d even wished for death. But seeing them had changed everything. They made him want to live again. But as long as he suffered these uncontrollable rages, he was a danger to them. He couldn’t protect them if he was far away, but he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t hurt them if he was close. There had to be an answer. If Hammerson wanted something from him, then he would need to trade for it.
The waiter put a coffee down, and Alex drained it in one. Next came the steak. He looked at it and nodded. ‘Nice.’ The thick and bloody slab of meat hung over the sides of the plate. Alex ate slowly, savoring every bite.
As he chewed, he watched the surrounding area. Half a mile down the road, Antelope Park’s manicured lawns and memorial displays were just visible. The nearest monument was two huge slabs of black polished marble, each seven feet tall, containing hundreds of names of local soldiers lost in Vietnam. Further in, a ghostly platoon of statues, nearly twenty of them, in rain ponchos and helmets, marched eternally as a tribute to those who’d died in the Korean War. Alex stared at the frozen marchers. He too had served, and fallen, but he’d woken and come back, whether he liked it or not. The day would come when he stayed down, but unlike these men, he would be remembered by few.
Alex sensed the approach of the van before it glided into the end of the street. He watched as it pulled in a few blocks down from the cafe. Even though its windows were darkened, he knew the HAWC commander was inside. He also knew he hadn’t come alone.
Alex eased back behind the plants. The van’s front door opened and a solidly built older man stepped out onto the sidewalk. He rolled his sleeves down, placed his hands on his hips and turned slowly to scan the street from all angles. Colonel Jack ‘Hammer’ Hammerson. He put a hand over his eyes as though to shield them from the sun; his thumb was curled and Alex knew he held a scope. He turned slowly, stopping at the cafe building. Even though he doubted Hammerson would spot him, Alex backed further in behind a thick palm.
The van’s side door slid back and the vehicle tilted sideways and down as one of the largest men Alex had ever seen – all shoulders and arms, and slightly older than himself – stepped down. Something about the way the man moved was odd, but Alex immediately knew him: First Lieutenant Sam Reid – Uncle Sam. The name came back to him
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