Code Name: Camelot (Noah Wolf #1)(32)

Noah was never uncertain, so he had no clear idea of how to help Roger deal with his own guilt. All he could do was mouth the same platitudes he’d heard others use in Iraq and the ‘Stan, when they were trying to comfort the new guys after their first kills.

“Sometimes,” he said, “you’re faced with a choice. You can kill, or you can die, and in this case you had the threats against your family, too. Roger, it sounds to me like you did what you had to do. All you gotta do now is learn how to live with it.”

They finished eating and tossed their trash into one of the nearby cans, and Roger started the truck for the drive back to Alley Town. He stayed quiet all the way to the motel, and just waved as Noah got out. A moment later, the truck turned the corner and was out of sight.

Noah fished the key to his room out of his pocket, and let himself in. Like in every motel room, there was a telephone beside the bed, something he hadn’t even paid attention to before, but now it had a red light blinking on it. In motels, he knew that meant there was a message, so he picked up the phone and dialed zero for the operator.

A computerized voice said, “Room seven has one new message,” and then he heard, “Noah, this is Allison. You made it through your first day, and I’m glad to say I’ve had nothing but good reports. Tomorrow, we’re going to go ahead and schedule you in for intake and ID, so someone will pick you up at your room at about eight AM. For tonight, kick back and relax. If you need anything, Marco should be around, so you can get him to drive you wherever you need to go.”

Noah hung up the phone and walked over to open the mini fridge. As he suspected, there was nothing in it, so a moment later he walked out the door and over to Marco’s room. He knocked, and Marco opened the door a moment later.

“Hey, Noah,” Marco said. “How’s it going?”

“Well, the dragon lady left me a message that she’s had good reports, so I’m guessing I’m doing okay in that regard,” he said. “I got to see the exciting town of Kirtland today, and I was wondering if I might talk you into a ride over to one of the stores. I’d like to pick up some snacks and stuff.”

Marco grinned. “Settling right in, aren’t you? Sure, give me a second to grab my keys.”

Noah walked over to Marco’s car and waited, but it was only as few seconds before his friend came out and got behind the wheel. He hit the lock button, and Noah climbed in; then he fired up the car and they were on the way.

“You want a convenience store,” Marco asked, “or something bigger?”

“Convenience store will do just fine. I just want to grab some chips and pop, stuff like that.”

It turned out there was a convenience store not too far away, and Noah took only a few minutes to grab the snacks he wanted. There were a lot of things to choose from, and he paused to look at the coolers full of beer.

“You can have some, if you want,” Marco said. “Or if you prefer, there’s a bar down the road. We can stop in for a cold one, if you want to.”

Noah grinned, and carried his purchases to the register. The girl there rang them up quickly, and smiled at him as he swiped his card. A moment later, she handed him his receipt and two bags containing chips, candy bars and a couple of six-packs of root beer.

They got back into the car, and Noah put his purchases into the backseat. “A beer sounds good,” he said, and Marco smiled as he put the car back in gear. A moment later, he parked in front of a little building with a flickering neon sign that read, “Charlie’s.”

“Something I forgot to tell you earlier,” Marco said, “is that not everybody here is in on the secret behind this place. We don’t talk about anything to do with the organization except with people we’re certain are part of it themselves.”

“Yeah,” Noah said, “I got lucky and someone else filled me in on that. It would’ve been nice to have known that a little earlier, but luckily, I didn’t run into a situation where it could blow up in my face.” He grinned and knuckled Marco on the shoulder. “It’s okay, come on,” he said. “I’m ready for a cold beer.”

They walked inside, and Noah felt like he had walked into a typical bar in any town in the country. The lights were dim, the fixtures were old, and the air-conditioning was set way too high. Marco led the way to the bar, and they climbed up on a couple stools. An old man, presumably Charlie, walked over to them and grinned, showing all four of his bottom teeth.

“Evenin’, boys,” he said. “What can I do you for?”

Noah started to speak, but Marco held up a hand to stop him. “Two beers, in the bottle, no glasses,” Marco said.

The old man chuckled, then turned around and pulled two bottles of Budweiser out of the cooler, popped the caps and set them on the bar. “Four fifty,” he said, and Marco threw a five-dollar bill onto the bar.

“Keep the change,” Marco said, and the old fellow chuckled again as he walked away. Marco turned to Noah. “Yeah, I forgot to tell you, it’s always best to stick with bottles, here. The draft stuff seems to be watered down, or maybe it’s just that nasty.”

They clinked their bottles together and each took a sip. Noah grinned. “That’s good,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

Marco eyed him. “How long were you locked up?”