Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(31)

Liam said, “I want you to join General Sinclair.”

Luther choked and almost spit out the cornbread. He swallowed and wiped his dirty face with the back of his hand. “What did you say?”

“I need a spy.”

Luther gaped at him.

“You’re it.”

He didn’t know enough about the General or his tactics. That needed to change. Immediately. Liam needed actionable intelligence.

If Luther did his job, he could become a major asset. If he turned on them, the damage he could inflict would be moderate. It was worth the risk.

“I—I can’t. I’m not—” Luther sputtered.

“You were Sutter’s right-hand man, correct?”

“After Desoto’s death, yeah. You could say that.”

“Sutter is your way in. I need eyes on the inside. I need intel. If you present yourself to General Sinclair and offer information, he’ll take you in. He needs updated intelligence, too. Boots on the ground. Even if Sutter gave him information before he died, the General won’t know whether that intel is still valid. You can give him that vital information.”

“Umm—”

“Hopefully, Sutter mentioned you before he died. In that case, you’ll be a shoo-in. If not, you’ll just have to make sure you sell your story.”

“What story?”

“That you escaped our custody. You want revenge for the murder of your compatriots, just like Sutter did.”

Luther looked like he was having a tough time breathing properly. “What exactly do you want me to do as a…a spy?”

Liam grimaced in irritation. “Did you not just hear me? “I have a list of intel I want, plus what disinformation I need you to disseminate.” He held out a handheld radio. “If you’re out of range or lose access, I’ll have my scouts check Trailer World off M-139. There’s a bright blue mailbox shaped like a dolphin. You can’t miss it. Pass any messages that way, but don’t use names. Use a code. We’ll figure that out now.”

“I don’t know—”

“I thought you were here to redeem yourself.”

“I am.”

“Then this is how you do it.”

Luther wiped and folded the square of aluminum with great care and handed it to Liam. At least he was neat. “And if the General catches me?”

“Don’t let him catch you.”

“But if—”

“Then I hope you’ve made things right with Jesus. I won’t be able to help you.”

Luther opened his mouth, closed it. Blinked and scratched his beard again. He stared at him numbly. He looked terrified, a deer trapped in the headlights.

Liam’s gaze softened. He understood the role of a handler—he also understood the danger he was sending Luther into. If Luther were discovered, the General would kill him, after torturing him for information. “I know this is a huge ask.”

Luther sucked in a sharp breath, steeling himself. He straightened his slumped shoulders. And reached for the radio. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Leave at first light.”

“I won’t let you down,” Luther said.

“I believe you.”

Hopefully, Liam hadn’t just made a huge mistake.





20





The General





Day One Hundred and Eight





“Where’s my cognac?” the General demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Baxter said, ducking his head. “I asked around. There’s none left.”

John Baxter was a timid man with an elongated neck and wet, meek eyes like a turtle; he ducked into his shell at the slightest sign of trouble.

“Unacceptable.” He hauled himself up from the luxurious sofa facing the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows overlooking Lake Michigan. The lavish king-size bed was comfortable, though the thousand square foot suite had remained distinctly chilly without electricity.

It wasn’t the Ritz Carlton penthouse, but the opulent suite was far better than most accommodations he’d endured during his years in the military.

The Boulevard Inn was a quaint seven-story hotel boasting covered terraces, marble floors, rich walnut accents, and most importantly, splendid views of Silver Beach and Lake Michigan beyond.

The hotel’s walls were thick concrete that offered considerable protection from small-arms fire. Even without electricity, the building was warmer than a camp. Nights still dipped into freezing temperatures. None of his troops had winter gear, and many lacked the skills to hunt or fish.

He wasn’t facing an army. He didn’t need to worry about drones, air raids, artillery, or missiles.

If their enemy had these capabilities, he’d go to the field and limit exposure from air and drone observation and EMCON output.

Of course, garrisoning at the hotel left them open to surveillance, intelligence gathering, and sniper attacks or car bombings. Opposing forces could sneak closer than the General liked.

He didn’t have enough men to secure the surrounding buildings.

However, his troops had secured the perimeter, fortified the building, and conducted roving patrols.

The hotel would serve their purpose just fine. Besides, he didn’t intend to stay long.