The Quest

Chapter 42

The Russians came, ransacking the house, searching the woods. Rourke and Rubenstein had completed searching the house long before Reed had arrived, gone with Reed to a place of concealment on high ground in a cleft of rocks long before the Soviet helicopter’s whirring had filled the air and drowned out the rain.

“I guess I can tell you,” Reed said.

Rourke looked at him, then hunched back more into the rock, not bothering to watch the Russians anymore. He lighted one of his cigars, trying to shake the dampness in his clothing and in his bones. “Tell me what?” “Well—before I do—Fulsom. We used my radio. He wanted to do something for you. He’s got a contact in the Resistance up in Tennessee. Hadn’t said anything to you because he didn’t want to get any false hopes up. Got a message out last night before the raid and the Resistance man in Tennessee promised he’d check around. Fulsom just had a feeling about it. Made me call in on their frequency. Well, guy owns a farm, his wife is the aunt of the only survivor of the Jenkins family you mentioned. The guy was a retired Army sergeant. His son, anyway, just joined up with him, got wounded last night. They talked. Sarah and your kids are up at his farm—been there the last few days.” Rourke pushed away from the rocks. The cigar fell from his mouth, burning at his trousers as he brushed it away. “Where,” Rourke said, grasping Reed’s collar.

“Here.” Reed handed Rourke a dirty, folded Tennessee highway map. “It’s marked—up near some place called Mt. Eagle in the mountains. You know it.” “What,” Rourke said absently, not even opening the map, just staring at it in his hands. “Yeah, Mt. Eagle, yeah, I know it.” “John, thank God.”

Rubenstein threw his arms around Rourke, and Rourke slapped the younger man on the back.

“Reed,” Rourke stammered. “Fulsom—can you thank him for me, will you—?”

“I’ll see him. Just in case, I’m leaving Paul the radio set we have and some spare parts from the kit. You want to contact us, the frequency’ll be marked. One other thing.” “Yeah,” Rourke said, already standing at the edge of the rocks and staring down at the departing Russian troops. There was a small residual team up in the woods, carrying out the rubber bagged body of Colfax. “Looks like they’re going to give him a decent burial anyway.” “John, they’ll think maybe you found out before Colfax died. The Russians’ll want you. They want to know what the Eden Project was—almost more than we do. And you were right about that traitor—looks there’s someone in Chambers’s advisors who works for the Communists.” Almost disinterested, Rourke stuck out his hand. Reed took it. “I’ll be seeing you, Captain. Say goodbye to your men for me, huh?” Then, turning to Paul, Rourke said, “I’ll have Sarah cook you the best meal in the world at the retreat. I’ll see you there as soon as I can get them back.” “Sure, John—hey, John?”

Rourke turned and looked at the younger man.

“If something goes wrong, just—”

“It won’t,” Rourke said, smiling and snatching up his CAR-15. “It won’t.”