Chapter Twelve

Charles Lansing slammed his fist down on the table in sheer frustration. His lucrative arms exchange had gone to hell in a hand basket when those military types had shown up and killed two of his best men. Blind luck had saved his life and a couple of others when they’d run late to meet for the exchange.

The Feds? Maybe. It didn’t matter. He’d worked too hard for too many years to build his weapons trade business on the black market for anything to get in his way now. Word of mouth carried far. If other customers heard even the barest whisper that he couldn’t provide the items promised or that the government was hot on his trail, they would look to his competitors to fill their orders. He couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t have that.

Toby, his best tracker and computer expert, had spent nearly every minute since the ambush trying to ferret out information about the people responsible and their location. They knew one man had been shot. He would require medical attention, so Toby had methodically scoped out hospitals small and large, searching inpatients and emergency rooms in five states, seeking anyone with a bullet wound who would meet the criteria. Nothing as of his last report this morning, but something would turn up. It had to. He could be patient a little longer—after all, the risk and reward were both high. It was a game of kill or be killed. Revenge and retaliation.

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that whatever group these two men were with would simply walk away, leaving him to conduct business in peace. Oh, no. They would do everything in their power to see him six feet under. It was the same determination he possessed toward them. Fuckers dared to interfere in his lucrative business.

He’d track them down, corner them, and kill them like rabid animals.

“Sir, we have a location.” Toby dashed over. “We found their abandoned vehicle. Tracks and blood drops lead toward Cooperstown.”

A slow smile slipped out. Finally.

After pulling some maps out, he placed them on the large desk, scouring over them for the destination. Charles grabbed a pencil and began jotting down a list of supplies they would need and potential areas of interest.

Most rural areas had a family doctor. They would start there. Find the doctor, follow the trail. Kill the vermin where they lay in hiding.

Only then could he go back to the business of shipping his highly specialized and powerful weapons to those who had the money to pay for them. He didn’t care which side they were on or even which country they resided in. All he wanted was the money, the riches he accrued from those deals. After all, entrepreneurship and making money was the American way.

He grabbed what he needed and placed a quick call to his remaining men. By the time they had rounded up everything, his men were ready and they quickly left the base on a necessary and deadly mission.

* * * *

Several hours later, all three men sauntered into the Cooperstown Diner, seeking two things—hot food and information.

A handful of customers were spread across the small room. Choosing a somewhat isolated table in the back where they could watch the door, Charles sat down. All three glanced over the room, catching the eye of the waitress dressed in an old-fashioned pink dress complete with white apron.

“What can I get you?” she asked, pulling out her pen and ticket pad.

They gave her their orders. Just before she turned toward the kitchen, Charles spoke again, “Miss. My friend here hasn’t been feeling too well.” He gestured at one of the men across the table. “Is there a local doctor he could see?”

The young blonde girl nodded, then seemed to recall something. “Dr Snider. But he’s out this week for the holiday. Went to visit all kinds of family in the next state over or such.”

“Oh.” Charles pondered a second. “What about his nurse? Maybe she could take care of my friend?”

“Lily? Oh, she’s not one of those practitioner nurses. She’s just a regular old nurse that helps the doctor. I’m thinking you need to head up the road to Clinton. That’s the nearest hospital.”

“Thanks. We’ll do that after lunch.” Charles promised watching the waitress walk off.

Good thing about small towns—everyone knows everyone else’s business. From what the girl said, there was no use in chasing a doctor all over creation. But his nurse… Lily.

She could and would provide the information they needed.