Debra Webb - Special Assignment - Baby

The hole was an apt description, Court decided, as he stared into the dimly lit tunnel before him. Raymond had escorted Court into the rear of the training center and down a flight of stairs to the basement, then through a well-stocked storm shelter. Neely was ready for anything, Court decided upon observing the array of stored goods before his eyes. At the far side of the shelter a section of ingenious false storage shelves were pulled away from the wall to reveal a horizontal tunnel that led slightly downward and did a ninety-degree angle to disappear out of sight. Fluorescent lights, spaced too far apart for Court’s liking, provided the dim illumination.

“This way.” Raymond gestured for Court to precede him. Raymond pulled the well-camouflaged door shut behind them, lessening the already low light.

Court remained calm, but his senses were on full-scale alert just in case this was some sort of setup. His lawman instincts had never failed him before, he hoped they weren’t about to now. “Well, this is interesting,” he noted aloud for his escort’s benefit.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Raymond assured him. The man’s anticipation was palpable.

As Court followed Raymond down the few steps and to the left, he absorbed as many details as possible in the poor lighting. The walls were concrete, like a vault. The corridor that lay before them was maybe fifty feet long. Court could just make out two doors on the right, twenty or thirty feet apart. There appeared to be only one door on the left side of the corridor.

Raymond stopped at the first door they reached, the one on the left. He unlocked and opened it. The heavy steel door made a sound that wasn’t quite a groan but something on that order when it swung inward. The eerie sound triggered an uneasy feeling deep in Court’s gut. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his pulse reacted instantly to a surge of adrenaline.

“This is the ammo room.”

Court looked from Raymond to the open door and back. “I thought the ammo room was upstairs.”

“This is the real ammo room.”

When Court stepped inside the surprisingly large room he knew exactly what his new best friend meant. Court surveyed the room and let go a low whistle that garnered an I-told-you-so look and a chuckle from Raymond. The only place Court had ever seen a stockpile of weapons and ammo like this was at the bust of a heavy-duty arms dealer.

“Oh, yeah,” Court agreed, “this is real, all right.” Too damned real.

“I’m tellin’ you, buddy, Joshua’s got everything we need.” Raymond closed and locked the heavy door once Court was back in the corridor. “And he’s got way bigger plans than this.” He jerked his head toward the ammo-room door. “Way bigger. With the Order’s help he’s gonna show those bastards running this country where the power is, and it ain’t in Helena or D.C., my friend.”

The Order? Court’s pulse reacted as his senses moved to a new level. Raymond definitely meant the Black Order. Court adopted his most unsuspecting expression. “Damn, buddy, I had no idea we had this much power. This is incredible.”

Raymond ushered him toward the next door. “I’ll show you ‘incredible.’”

The first door on the right led to a high-tech communications center that rivaled the one at the Lonesome Pony ranch in state-of-the-art hardware, but this one was considerably larger. So, Court decided, now he knew the reason for the two satellite dishes located behind the building. Upon first inspection it would appear that they were used to support the small communications room in the meeting hall and for video-conferencing of training classes in this building, but that wasn’t the case at all.

Two technicians monitored the equipment, paying little or no attention to the intrusion. The man was clever, Court had to give him that. Joshua Neely was networking on a level that no one would ever suspect. This wasn’t just some little half-baked setup he had going here…this was the whole enchilada. Joshua Neely had much more going on than anyone, even Court, had first suspected.

“Now for the grand finale,” Raymond announced as they walked back into the corridor.

“What’s at the end of the tunnel?” Court asked, halting Raymond’s tour to peer toward the far end of the passage. Now that he was closer, he could see that the corridor took another hard left.

“That leads to the escape tunnel,” Raymond explained. “If we’re ever in danger of being overrun by the feds, we can escape to safety. It comes out deep in the mountains.”

Court nodded. “Cool.”

“Damn right.” Raymond ushered Court to the last door on the right. “Now, the one we’ve been waiting for.”

Once they stepped inside the final doorway, Court stood, stunned for several seconds. The room was white—walls, ceiling, floor. So white and so brightly lit that it took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust. In stark contrast to the whiteness, a round, gleaming black conference table occupied the center of the room. Nearly a dozen men were seated around it, leaving two empty chairs of the same polished ebony as the table. Joshua Neely’s larger, more thronelike chair sat in the designated place of honor.

Neely stood. “Welcome, Court.” He indicated those seated around the table with a sweeping motion of his right arm. “These are my leaders, my lieutenants.”

Court nodded first to Neely, then surveyed those seated. Ferguson and a few of the others he recognized, Potts and Beecham. One of the empty seats was to Neely’s immediate left, the other on Ferguson’s right. The men seated didn’t bother to rise, they merely stared at Court, measuring and considering. Raymond hustled around the table and sat down in the empty chair beside Ferguson, leaving Court standing alone outside the strange dark circle.

The Knights of the Round Table. The crazy notion came out of nowhere. Court resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the ridiculous thought. He started to speak, but one of the men, Greg Potts, if Court remembered correctly, rose from his chair, cutting off his question. He’d noticed the quiet, soft-spoken man before. As yet, Court hadn’t figured out just what his expertise was. But if he worked this closely with Neely, Potts had something on the ball. Potts walked deliberately to Court and embraced him.

“Brother,” he said before releasing Court.

Court blinked, uncertain what was expected of him. “Brother,” he replied hesitantly.

One by one, each of those seated followed suit. Ferguson was the last to approach Court. The embrace as well as the greeting was forced. This man, Court knew at that instant, would be his most powerful enemy. He’d been getting bad vibes from him since day one.

When Ferguson would have backed away, Court drew him closer. “Brother,” he murmured fervently.

Ferguson tensed, fury in his gaze when he drew back. The gauntlet was down now. Court watched Ferguson retreat to his station on Neely’s right. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, Court reminded himself silently. That would keep both of them out of trouble. Court restrained the smile of secret amusement that twitched one corner of his mouth.

“Brother Brody,” Neely announced, drawing Court’s attention to the one remaining person in the room who had not participated in the little ceremony.

“Come forward, brother,” Neely instructed.

With the others watching his every step, Court moved toward Neely. They’d already given him one induction last night. What was this all about? Maybe Neely just enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of it all.

“Last night we welcomed you to our brotherhood,” Neely began as if reading Court’s mind. “Today, brother—” he placed a hand on Court’s shoulder “—we welcome you into the ranks of our leaders.” He gestured to the vacant chair at his left. “Take your place of honor among those who, like you, possess the special gift. The calling.”