"Have you thought about taking some time off the job? Might do you good."
"No, it wouldn't. I'd just worry, and I'm better off occupying myself to the hilt right now."
"You're the best judge of that," he said. "Take care of yourself, and call me if I can do anything to help, or if you just need to talk."
"Thanks, Stone, you take care, too." She hung up and went upstairs, pulling clothes off along the way. She missed Jackson terribly at this moment. She wanted to crawl into bed and rest her head on his shoulder, while he stroked her hair.
Instead, she crawled into bed and waited for Daisy to settle in next to her. Daisy wasn't Jackson, but she was the best friend Holly had.
40
Ham arrived at Lake Winachobee the following morning, and before he could join his shooting students, he was intercepted by Peck Rawlings.
"Good morning, Ham," Peck said.
"Morning, Peck."
"John wants you to attend some classes for the next few days," Peck said.
"Classes?"
"It's time you got to know more about the foundations of what we believe in. I know that most of this stuff is going to be old hat for you, but John thinks it's important, just so you'll know how he and the leadership think."
"Well, sure, if that's what John wants. But leadership? I thought John was the leadership."
"He's one of a group, and he communicates the leadership's messages to all of us."
"You mean all of us at Winachobee?"
"No, all over the country. John does a lot of traveling."
"Oh. Just how big an organization are we?"
"You'll be told all about that in due course," Peck said. "You better hurry; the class is getting started. It's in my study."
"Sure, just let me get a notebook out of my truck."
"Hurry."
Ham trotted back to the truck, removed the smoke detector from its box and stuck it in the pocket of his fatigues. Then he retrieved the tiny screwdriver, inserted it into the heel of his boot and gave it a quarter turn. He started back toward the house. "Okay, I'm recording," he said. "Peck has sent me to class." He stated the date and time.
Ham entered the house and walked to the study. The other students, half a dozen of them, were scattered around the room, and John was standing before them. "Morning, Ham," he said. "Take a pew."
Ham found
a chair and got set to listen.
"Now," John said, "we're going to talk about the group and the things we believe in. I know you're all new to the group, but we've taken a close look at each of you, and you wouldn't be in this room if we didn't think you believe what we believe."
Ham listened as John launched into a quiet diatribe that seemed to include every crazy thing he'd ever heard about fringe militia groups. John covered all the bases-hatred of blacks, Jews and homosexuals, hatred of the government, hatred of anybody who didn't share the group's views. Ham was bored stiff, and he took the opportunity to look around the room, especially the ceiling. He wanted to get the smoke detector up and running as soon as possible. Then he suddenly snapped back to attention. John was talking about surveillance.
"We're very careful about being listened in on," John was saying. "The government gets better and better at watching over people's lives, especially people who despise them, as we do. You shouldn't have realized it, but each of you has been swept for bugs every day you've been here, and every room in this compound is swept every day. That's so that we and you can know that we can speak freely to each other without having to worry about some spook listening in on us. Believe me, our antisurveillance techniques are just as good as their ability to bug us. In fact, Peck is standing at the back of the room there. Sweeping each of us right this minute."
Ham looked over his shoulder and saw Peck standing by the door, holding a small black box with an extended antenna. He felt sweat break out in his armpits. Surreptitiously, he took out the little screwdriver, crossed his ankle over the other knee and rested his hand on his boot, trying to look as relaxed as possible. Staring hard at John, he got the screwdriver into the heel of his boot and switched off his recorder, then he crossed his legs in the opposite direction and pocketed the screwdriver.
Peck was walking slowly around the room now, waving the antenna.
"You got something, Peck?" John asked.