Eighteen Wheel Avenger. William W. Johnstone
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stayed back.
As the sedan pulled even with Barry’s trailer, he swung the trailer slightly. Traveling at 70 mph, the trailer smacked the car. The driver of the car fought the wheel as his right-side tires left the interstate and hit the shoulder.
Once more under control, but with its left side dented from the impact, the sedan made a move.
Barry simply cut the wheel slightly and ran the car off the road. It crashed through the guardrail and went sailing off, carrying its three terrorists into a very dubious meeting with eternity.
The second car braked to a smoking stop and pulled off onto the shoulder. Barry, with a smile on his face, kept on trucking. He patted the seat beside him and Dog was instantly there.
“There less baby killers in the world, Dog.”
Dog barked.
“But their buddies will be coming after us, you can bet on that.”
Dog snarled.
“Yeah. That’s the way I feel about it, Dog. Let the bastards come on!”
Security at the gate checked his ID and waved him on through, but not before the security police gave him some sidewise looks.
Obviously they had been told to ask no questions.
Barry made his way slowly towards the area he’d been pointed by security, stopped, and shut it down.
He was walking Dog when Jackson came out of a building and walked toward him.
“Keep that damn dog on the leash, Barry. He bites.”
“No worse than the guy holding the other end of the leash, Jackson.”
Jackson grimaced.
“You have any trouble on the way down?”
Barry smiled.
Jackson sighed. “Just think, I gave up a nice secure, reasonably peaceful job to look after you. What happened, Barry?”
Barry explained about the incident on the interstate.
“You check to see if they were dead?”
“Nope. But the car sailed about a hundred feet, then rolled end over end. If they’re not dead, they’re not going to be doing much terrorizing for a long time.”
“I’ll check with the CHP about it. Let’s go somewhere and talk. I think, unknowingly, you’ve dropped right into the middle of one hell of a big operation. Heads up, Barry. These guys play rough.”
“No kidding,” Barry said sarcastically.
Barry made sure Dog had done his business and then put him back in the Kenworth, with food and fresh water. Dog promptly flopped down and went to sleep.
Barry walked across the compound to the concrete block building where Jackson had told him he’d be waiting… with some people he wanted Barry to meet.
One person in particular caught and held Barry’s attention. A dark-eyed, dark-haired, tanned, and extremely fit appearing lady. Barry could tell that when she stood up, she was going to very nearly be able to flat-footed look him in the eyes. Barry was five-ten; he guessed the lady to be close to five-nine. She was magnificent-looking, her eyes shining with that glow of a person in the best of physical condition.
Jackson said, “Barry, these people are part of an Air Force special team. They’ve been bounced around so much over the past few years, they’re probably beginning to feel like homeless children. Right now, they come under the Air Force’s SOCOM. They’re the best in the business when dealing with terrorism.”
Captain Barnett. Lieutenant Jamison. Sergeant Halleck. Sergeant Gale. And Lieutenant Cutter—the fine-looking woman.
It dawned on Barry: Lieutenant Cutter!
He turned to Jackson. “Are you telling me that she… ?” He pointed to the woman.
“That is correct, Barry.” Jackson’s reply was smooth. “Her father owned a very successful trucking firm in the midwest. She grew up behind the wheel of a truck. She’ll be your codriver. Barry Rivera, meet Meri Cutter.”
The woman stood up. Great God! Barry thought, eyeballing her from her bloused jump boots to the top of her short dark hair. What a woman.
He nodded at her.
She nodded at him, her eyes cool as she appraised him.
“You like dogs, Cutter?”
“I love dogs. Why?”
“Because I travel with one. A Husky.”
“What’s his name? Assuming it is a he.”
“It’s a he. Dog.”
She allowed herself a small smile. “And I believe from what Jackson has told us—which isn’t much—that you are codenamed Dog.”
“That is correct.”
“Quite a combination. Dog and Dog.”
Captain Barnett stood up and shook hands with Barry. “Jackson has told us very little about you, Barry. And none of us will push for further information concerning your present operation or how you came to be. But since this operation was put together very quickly, we haven’t had time to read your dossier….”
“He doesn’t have one,” Jackson said quickly.
The personnel of the SOCOM shifted uncomfortably and cut their eyes to Jackson. “What do you mean, sir?” Sergeant Gale asked.
“Just what I said, Sergeant. Suffice it to say that Barry was a captain of a special forces A-team. He helped set up and train that, ah, group of people that presidents are hesitant to use against terrorists because of several weak-kneed members of Congress.”
The AF team smiled at that.
Jackson continued, “Barry is highly trained and very competent. But he prefers to work alone.”
“Doing what?” Barnett asked.
“And for whom?” Cutter added.
Jackson’s eyes were bleak. “You do not have a need to know.”
“Going to be an interesting operation,” Lieutenant Jamison muttered.
“More so than you might think.” Jackson looked at him. “The Dog has carte blanche in his dealings.”
The AF team became immediately much more interested and much more attentive.
“Are you saying that we can use whatever tactics we deem suitable or advisable in dealing with these terrorists?” Barnett asked.
“That is correct. The Dog operates under his own rules. He is answerable to only one person.”
None of the AF team asked who that one person was. That was none of their business and all knew Jackson wouldn’t tell them anyway.
Cutter’s eyes remained fixed on Barry. About forty, she guessed. Hard-looking. Just a touch of gray at the temples. Deep blue eyes. Almost black. Rugged-looking. Handsome, but not in that sissy pretty-boy way that Meri abhorred.
She wondered who that one person was that Barry answered to.
But she was too well-trained to consider asking.
“Let’s get down to it,” Jackson said, putting an end to Meri’s appraisal of Barry. For the moment.
After a hard hour of questions and answers and trying to fit together the pieces of the puzzle, the team was not much closer to getting an accurate assessment of just who they were up against.
Jackson called for a break.
“Come on,” Barry said to Cutter. “You’d better meet Dog and get yourself acquainted with my rig.”
“Have