Chapter 51

When the guard General Steele sent to protect Jeremiah Long arrived, Long asked him to leave, explaining that he’d lived this long without someone protecting him, and he’d be damned if he needed someone now.

The guard answered by telling Long that his orders were to stay with him at all times, and he couldn’t disobey an order.

Long told him that he respected loyalty and dropped the subject. He showed the guard into the house, grabbed a couple of beers, and gave him the nickel tour. They spent several hours getting to know each other before Long went to bed for the night. At 3:00 a.m. he arose, grabbed a bag of pre-packed belongings, and got in his car. Awakening to the sound of the car’s engine, the guard got to the window in time to see Long drive away. Throwing on pants and shoes, he grabbed his car keys and flew out the door in pursuit. Car headlights would be seen at this time of the morning, but Long didn’t put his on. He knew the streets of the neighborhood; the guard didn’t. Left, quick right, left again—that’s the way Long went. Left, quick right, right again—that’s the way the guard went. Left was west, right was east. The twain did not meet; the guard figured it out fast, but Long was in the wind before he could retrace his route and catch up. Disgusted with himself, he called Steele and told him what happened. Steele was pissed; he told the guard to wait for a call back. Steele called an Army buddy for help in locating Long’s car.

Long was pleased with himself. Free from a guard he didn’t want, he could do anything, go anywhere. He pulled into the lot of an all-night diner situated in a pine grove to get some coffee and a doughnut—one of the chocolate ones with fudge and chips, bathed in a chocolate icing. Maybe two.

It was nice inside the diner. Clean, well lit, and smelling like they knew how to cook, a “you were glad you were there” kind of place. The owner had skin in the game. He was working the grill. Long sat on a stool at the counter.

“Morning. Start you off with some coffee?” the owner asked.

“Yeah, and one of your special chocolate doughnuts,” Long replied. He’d been there before. “Make it two.”

“You’re in luck. I have a fresh batch of them. Think I’ll join you,” the owner replied as he grabbed three doughnuts and poured two cups of coffee.

“What gets you out so early this morning? Or have you been up for a while already?”

“I woke up feeling things closing in on me. I decided to hit the open road and get rid of that feeling. Call me crazy, but I gotta dunk this doughnut in my coffee. They both taste better when I do.”

“I do it all the time. Can’t get enough of both of them. Where you headed?”

“Up north. Maybe Canada. No place special.”

Outside, General Steele’s guard pulled into the lot. Steele had told him which direction Long had headed. He parked next to Long’s car and waited.

“I have little time off from this place,” the owner said. “Not that I’m complaining. Lot of hours but making a good living, that’s my situation. Wish I could go with you though.”

Long thought about that.

“Yeah, be nice to have some company. Maybe another time.” He refused a refill on the coffee. “Coffee makes me pee.”

He got up and used the bathroom before paying his tab.

“Have a safe trip wherever you go to.”

“Thanks. Probably catch you on the way back.”

The owner went back to the grill.

Long wasn’t expecting anyone to know his whereabouts, and with the sun not yet risen, he didn’t see the guard approach.

“Told you I have my orders,” he said as he grabbed Long’s arm.

Long was shocked and angered to hear the guard’s voice. And he sure in hell didn’t like having his arm being tightly held. He struggled to get free, but couldn’t. That further incensed him. “Let go, you son of a bitch,” he demanded. That didn’t happen. His anger built further. He stomped his foot down on the guard’s right foot, causing him to relax his grip slightly. Long tried to take advantage by twisting his body but the guard recovered quickly, tightened his grip, and in the process, banged Long’s head on the car bumper. Long went limp and fell to the asphalt.

The guard sagged to the ground, out of breath. The old man was tougher than he expected. Sitting next to him, the guard saw that Long had not moved since he had fallen. The guard felt his neck; he detected no blood flow. He took Long’s wrist and tried to find a beat. There was nothing. The guard called Steele and explained what happened. The general listened intently before instructing him to leave.

“He’s dead. I don’t want you interviewed by the police because McGowan knows who you are, and I’m trying to keep him from finding out for as long as possible that you are guarding Stone’s friends.”

“It doesn’t seem right to leave him, but I’ll do what you say. Someone is bound to see him soon anyway.”

“A good reason to leave now, before you’re spotted.”

The guard put Long back inside his car in an upright position in the driver’s seat, then got in his, and drove away.

General Steele called Stone and told him what happened. Lying in bed with a sleeping Murphy, Stone was philosophical. Most people say in a similar situation that their friend died too soon. Stone wasn’t most people. He thought that the age of seventy-one, as Long was, was not too soon to die. Unfortunately, no age is. Everyone knows that once your life begins, the countdown to your death also begins. The number of minutes you start with is unknown.

He was momentarily sad that Long would no longer be a part of his life, but Stone didn’t dwell on things that he couldn’t control. When he told Murphy, she cried and said it was too soon for him to die.

Stone contacted Danders and passed along the news. Unlike his buddy, Danders was saddened by the loss. Danders wondered if the loss of one of their group was a sign of things to come, considering who their enemies were.

The diner’s next customer finished her meal and got into her car to leave. She noticed that the man sitting in the car next to her when she came in had not moved. Reluctant to approach the car on her own, she went back into the diner and told the owner.

“He’s dead,” he told the woman. “He didn’t have this bump on his head when he was inside talking to me. What a shame. I’ll call the police.”

“Oh my God.”