Chapter 11
MARCH 12, EVENING
REX GATHERED HIS TEAM LEADERS for a debriefing of the day’s exercises. “Men, we’re getting closer to Fort Brazos every day. Closer to all that food and all those women. By now, they have an idea that we are heading toward them. I expect them to send out scouts to spy on us and perhaps engage us in some tests. They’ll want to see what our tactics are when attacked. If they do, it’ll be a quick hit and run ambush; they won’t have their full force out this far.
“I want those scouts captured alive at all costs, and I do mean at all costs. I want them alive—be very clear on that point. Kill one of their scouts, and you’re going to have to face me. Bring them to me alive, and your reward will be extraordinary. I want them alive, all of them, for my interrogation. What they can tell me is far more important than you can imagine. If they attack, return fire as you ordinarily would, but do not aim at them, aim near them. I want them to think you are reacting normally and shooting at them. Immediately send runners up and down the line to order the nearby groups to commence encircling them.
“Those of you that will be encircling them, put out a net completely around them, dropping off men wherever appropriate, but do not fire at them unless they are trying to escape. If you fire at them, fire in front of them to try to herd them back into the circle. When the circle is complete, start drawing in closer until they surrender. I cannot stress this enough: I want them alive. I don’t care how many men you lose in the process. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” they all responded.
“Good,” Rex replied. “Tomorrow morning we’ll practice. Choose two men to act as the aggressors, live fire exercise. The two men will, of course, fire above our heads, and our return fire will be directed near to but not at them. We’ll repeat this exercise until everyone reacts swiftly and correctly . I’ll be observing and correcting until you get it right. Dismissed.”
Rex watched the men leave as they went back to their groups. He thought, sooner or later, Adrian will be out to scout for himself. He’ll have to; it’s his way to see the enemy with his own eyes before engaging. With a little luck, I might catch him early on. Maybe.
Later that night, Rex went back to his tent and unpacked his “Adrian bag,” as he thought of it, checking each item, fondling them with delight. He checked every nut and bolt on the take-apart crossbow. Rex thought back to the only time he had fought Adrian. It had been in a bar. He had watched Adrian for hours, drinking and celebrating a successful mission accomplished with his crew. Rex hadn’t killed in weeks, and he was tense. Watching Adrian laughing and carrying on wound his tension up to the boiling point, and Rex had snapped.
He shouldn’t have taken Adrian head on; he knew it was giving himself away, but he couldn’t help it that night. Adrian had exactly one advantage over Rex: Adrian was faster. Adrian’s reflex time was unbelievable, and Rex knew it. Still, he attacked, and because Adrian had been drinking a lot more than Rex, the fight was nearly even for a few moments. Rex got in several good, hard blows, blows that seemed to bounce off of Adrian with no effect. Adrian was faring no better against Rex, however.
Then Rex’s foot had slipped in a wet spot, and Adrian had taken advantage of it, knocking Rex out.
Over the ensuing years, Rex had gone over and over that fight. If I hadn’t slipped, he thought, I would have beaten him, sure as hell. He acknowledged that it had been a strategic error. Adrian had kept a closer eye on Rex after that. Otherwise, Rex would have surely had an opportunity to implement his plan. As it was, he tried to maintain a lower profile, waiting for Adrian’s attention to fade or slip. In time, he was sure it would have, but the grid collapse had happened first, and Rex lost track of Adrian in the aftermath.
MARCH 13, EVENING
Rex watched from a hilltop as his men encircled the two mock attackers. It was the third run, and the men had finally gotten it right. The first one had been a clusterf*ck, one of the men being killed in the process. The second went better, but not well enough. This one had gone smoothly, the men rapidly stringing out the net and then slowly drawing it tighter until the two aggressors had no option but to surrender or die. Rex was pleased. He wanted Adrian so bad he could taste it.
After the exercise, he would return the men to their march on Fort Brazos. Capturing Adrian wouldn’t be easy, but it would be done, come hell or high water. Rex was contemplating what he would do to Adrian when his second in command cleared his throat to get Rex’s attention.
“What?” Rex snapped with irritation. “What the hell do you want?”
“Orders for tomorrow, sir?” Frank replied calmly. He was used to Rex’s irritability, though not quite immune to it. He knew that he maintained his high position because he was willing to confront Rex, but only to a certain degree. He was also aware there was a line that he dared not cross, and he was careful not to. He was aware that Rex valued his confrontational style because it kept things moving smoothly, and kept Rex from having to attend to the details himself. Rex’s frequent mental withdrawals and emotional outbursts would otherwise have had things moving in fits and starts.
“We return to the march on Fort Brazos in the morning. These idiots took all day to get this simple exercise right. Jesus, I wish I had better men than this.”
Frank replied carefully, “They’re the best of a generally poor lot, sir. On the bright side, though, they are certainly killers. They don’t hesitate to do that.”
Rex looked at Frank for a long, tense moment. “Are you trying to tell me my business? Do you think I don’t know what we have?”
Frank, not backing down the way the rest of the men would have, said, “No sir, just pointing out the facts. I’ll give the order to move out in the morning as usual, sir.” Not waiting to be dismissed, Frank turned to leave, thinking, Psycho, pure psycho. But he’s our psycho, and he’s damned effective. I pity the poor fools at Fort Brazos.