The Farmhouse

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Morgan was looking down the road, they were a ways out into the boondocks as he remembered his father calling it, when he saw something ahead which he didn't like.

"Hey Ephraim, we might have a problem."

Johansen looked up from the book he was reading, "Shit, just keep going."

At the turn off to the safe house was a military vehicle, two soldiers were standing near it. While they weren't exactly blocking the road, they were obviously watching it. For what Morgan didn't know.

"Are you going to slow down?" Johansen asked Morgan.

"Why should I? We're just a couple of good old boys headed down to the lake."

"To do what? Country boys don't just 'go down to the lake.' Are we fishing, what if those troops stop us, what's our story?"

"Oh buddy, you should read up on the places we operate in, rather than ... What is that you're reading now?"

"Caesar's Commentary of the Gallic Wars. Good stuff."

Morgan shook his head, "Caesar mention anything about a little beer garden next to the marina on the lake. Ain't you thirsty, boy?"

Johansen had to laugh at Morgan breaking into his Southern accent. "I suppose. Damn it, the soldier boys want us to pull over."

Hurley Thompson and Wilson Hackett were members of the National Guard. They had been on duty when the call came in that some Federal agency needed backup at a raid in their county. So they'd signed out weapons, ammo, and a Humvee.

Their sergeant told them, "Head out to the Macready place on Sackville Road. Look for one of those obvious black government sedans parked by the road."

Thompson, a corporal, said, "Seems pretty odd, Sarge. Don't these Feds have any people of their own they can call for backup?"

Staff Sergeant Herb Myers shook his head, "Hurley, I just work here. It's Saturday, we've got the duty, and the State Adjutant himself gave us a mission. You wanna call him back and ask him yourself?"

"I get it, Herb, I get it. Come on Wilson, let's go babysit some Feds."

They had been briefed by the senior agent on scene to watch out for anything suspicious. Thompson saw a couple of fellows in a older Ford, the driver was wearing a ballcap, the older man on the passenger side had his nose buried in a book.

"I'm gonna wave those fellows down, Hurley."

"What the f**k for, Wilson?"

"Just ask 'em if they've seen anything out of place. I'm bored outta my mind."

Thompson shook his head, "Suit yourself."

Morgan groaned when one of the soldiers stepped out, his hand in the air. His rifle was still slung but that didn't give Morgan a warm fuzzy. They didn't need any eyes on them out here. Johansen rolled his window down and put his book in the seat pocket, where his hand found the grip to his Browning Hi-Power.

The soldier leaned in, Johansen could see that the name tape on his uniform read 'HACKETT.'

"Afternoon, fellas. How's it going?" the soldier spoke, he was smiling.

"Fair to middlin'. What are you boys doing way the hell out here, lost?" Johansen was smiling as well, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Nothing much, some Feds are checking out the old Macready place. It's been abandoned for years but some local boy said he saw people inside. Seems there was a terrorist attack up in the capital last night, Feds are running around all over the county."

"Damn. Terrorists you say?" Johansen asked in a scoffing tone.

"Yeah, don't know what flavor, Hurley here thinks it's Middle Eastern types. But hell, those boys would stand out like a sore thumb in these parts."

Johansen began to speak, but Morgan cut him off. "So you boys need our help or something? We're going down to Addie's Beer Garden, we worked all morning and we're kinda thirsty."

Thompson decided that Hackett had had enough fun. "You fellas seen anything out the ordinary around here?"

"Other than a couple of Guardsmen standing by the road? Nah, we ain't seen nothing." Morgan laid it on a little too thick for Johansen's tastes.

"Okay, keep your eyes open, call the sheriff's office if you see anything odd. Other than us, I mean."

That made Thompson chuckle. "You boys aren't from around here, are you?"

Johansen got a better grip on his pistol. Morgan spoke again.

"Nah. We that obvious? Our folks are a bit west of here. Up in the hills."

"Yeah, I thought so, okay boys, have a good one."

The Ford pulled out and continued down the road.

"Okay, Wilson, we don't stop any more unless they're really suspicious. That was just a couple of working fellas headed out for a beer by the lake."

"Can't be too sure, Hurley."

"I s'pose."

DuPont was a little annoyed, he'd come all the way out here with the day shift team and a couple of Guardsmen for very little reward.

But the tip had been correct, the house had seen people in it recently. Trash in the kitchen and spoiled food on the counter. Whoever had been here hadn't been planning on staying long term. Which was suspicious as hell.

He got on his cell phone. "Yeah, Alpha Gold Two-Fiver, DuPont. I need a forensics team at the Macready place."

He listened, "Yup, that's the one. We've got signs of recent occupancy. I want it dusted for prints, see if any match up with the M-60 the terrorists left behind."

He listened some more. "Yes, damn it. Send them by helo, my agency's picking up the tab on this one."

DuPont then turned to the team leader, "Anything else, anything?"

The man held up a single round of ammunition, "7.62 NATO, found it under the counter in the kitchen."

DuPont looked at it, the team leader was wearing gloves, so he wasn't worried about his prints on the brass. "Bag it as evidence. Forensics should be here in an hour or so. Gentlemen, I think we might have our first lead."