October 15, 1977

 

Three weeks later, Terry was looking much better. His appetite was back and he was sleeping well. His wounds were healed and the pain was nearly gone. He was even running a bit.

Peter had finished the hidden room in the mine tunnel, and to his satisfaction, the cabin was now complete and could stand empty during the Pennsylvania winter.

Bernadette and Peter had put themselves through a grinding physical fitness program. Peter was now in the best shape he had ever been. He and Bernadette often went on 15-mile runs through the surrounding mountains. They practiced frequently with an assortment of handguns. Peter liked the Browning 9mm because of the 13-round magazine. Bernadette stuck to the .45 U.S. Army 1911A Colt because it fit her hand better even though its magazine held half that of the Browning.

She made great progress in Hapkido. Peter told her that she was good and she had incorporated her knowledge of Aikido into her own fighting technique.

At dinner Peter asked, “Is everyone ready to go back to Florida?”

There were all yes votes. Jack wanted to go swimming again. Mrs. Nguyen said, “Yes, it’s getting cold here.” Peter said, “Okay that’s it. Tomorrow we go.”

“Good,” Terry said. “Let’s get out of here before it snows. I thought it was going to snow this morning.”

The Brandon caravan was on the road by eight o’clock the next morning. Peter, Bernadette, and Jack rode in the Ford truck and Terry took up the back seat of the Cadillac. One overnight stop in South Carolina and they arrived in Amelia Island in time for an early afternoon swim. Peter felt the tension leaving his body. He felt safer at this house than anywhere he had lived. Terry soaked up some Florida rays and let Jack see his Purple Heart scars.

Nine days after returning to the cabin, Peter was told that he could come and pick Terry up. Terry could continue his recuperation at home. Peter and Bernadette drove the Cadillac to Leesburg, Virginia. The pickup place was a popular restaurant in the historical district.

They found Terry having coffee and a piece of pumpkin pie while reading the local paper. Bernadette slid in beside him and hugged him. Terry said, “No too hard, you Amazon. Your uncle still has some sore spots.”

“Oh Terry, I’m sorry. I was so worried about you.”

Peter sat on the other side of the booth and reached across to shake his hand. “You know your uncle, he just likes sympathy.”

“Where were you treated?” Bernadette asked.

“The truth is I don’t know. I had great care, the doctor and staff were very good, even kind. But no one would tell me where I was and I still don’t know.”

“Couldn’t you look out the car window?”

“No, my Irish Princess. They used the old black hood technique. It was taken off right out there when they pulled into the curb. They made sure I could make it to the door and said goodbye after putting this thick file under my arm. They said this is for the battlefield surgeon that saved my life and you would tell me about my treatment and be in charge of my recovery. If any problems come up, you can call them.”

“Did they give you any prescriptions?”

“Yeah, there’s a bag of pills and stuff in the folder.”

“Aside from all the medical stuff,” Peter asked, “how do you feel?”

“I’m tired and get tired very easily. Pain is not bad. I’ve a lot of work to do to get back. A week or so at the cabin will help. Thinking about that place kept me going.”

It was dark when Peter parked the Cadillac at the cabin and helped Terry into the master bedroom. Peter and Bernadette moved back into their tent camping site. Jack was back on the couch with Rip. The next morning Bernadette took Terry for a walk. A couple of hundred yards from the cabin and Terry said, “How about I sit down for a while?”

“Good sign. You’re in touch with your body. I was afraid you would play macho male and overdo this rehab thing. You cannot hurry or force your recovery. It will be six months to a year before you feel you’re back.”

Late afternoon, September 16, 1977

 

Peter let Bernadette sleep. By the time he pulled the Ford pickup into the small circle of gravel that passed for a parking area at the cabin, he was done. Before he and Bernadette could get out, Rip had his muddy front paws on the door window and Jack was running as hard as he could up the slope from the creek bed. Mr. and Mrs. Nguyen joined the welcoming group. Bernadette was touched. She nudged Peter and said, “Your warrior house staff know we’ve been in battle. They know the after-battle look. I’m wiped out. Help me up the steps.”

Mrs. Nguyen ran up to help Peter get an exhausted Bernadette in the cabin and started running a bath. Mr. Nguyen opened the locked chest in the truck bed and took out the weapons. He shook his head and mumbled to himself about the condition of the weapons. He carried them up on the porch and got his cleaning kit and started on the weapons. Peter saw him, after he left Bernadette half asleep in the tub, and said, “Thank you, I didn’t have time to clean them. Too much fighting. We’ve not gotten any sleep for two and half days.”

Mr. Nguyen frowned and said, “Can’t fight with dirty weapons. Not work for you when dirty.”

Peter smiled. “You are right. You’ve been in more fights than I have. I accept your advice.”

********

Everyone, including Jack, worked hard at getting the cabin ready to stand unoccupied during the winter. Peter concentrated on finishing the room built into the mineshaft.

He had time to work with Rip who was very smart and almost as stubborn. Rip was beginning to assert himself as the alpha male in the cabin. After several “talks” Rip understood he had to wait awhile before becoming head of the cabin pack. Bernadette watched this process with great amusement. Here was the most competent, fearless man she had ever seen competing with a dog barely out of puppyhood, even if a very big, strong one.

She was amazed once when out for a walk with Jack and Rip, Jack ran back to the cabin to get a sweater and she told Rip to stay with her. Seeing he might not listen, she took a firm grip on his collar and found herself being dragged on her stomach down the trail. After letting Rip go, she understood Peter had some strong competition. She learned never to get between Rip and his duty to watch over Jack.

By the time Peter and Bernadette finished their breakfast and were back on the road, Terry was in the operating room of a small but first-class trauma facility. Frank went up to see the Director of Operations to brief him. Just as he finished briefing the Director of Operations, the phone buzzed. The Director frowned and picked up the secure phone. He told Frank to pick up the extension. Fifteen minutes later the report from the Recon team in the valley of the terrorists’ ended. The Director shook his head and said, “I knew this guy was good, but I was thinking your report was embellished a bit. Now from what was reported by the Recon team, it was understated.

“This strange man is the best operative I have ever heard about. The Recon team leader thinks for security reasons I’m not telling him what unit hit the valley. It was a major bomb factory run by the Soviets deep in the West Virginia mountains. Their bomb plot against the Old Executive Office Building might have worked.

“The Recon team spotted a small camp from a helicopter search, probably where our guy staged from. With a badly wounded man, he couldn’t go back and clean it up. We need to get it cleaned up before the cops or FBI people find it.

“The Recon leader said they monitored the local police network for their own protection and heard about a carjacking very near the first hard surfaced road near the entrance to the old fire or logging track into the valley. Both the driver and a woman passenger were killed. One shot to the head. That must have been the Russian. Use your contacts to raise the priority of the search. Bring the FBI in. Tell them we don’t know what happened in the valley. We were just checking out a low-level lead from Moscow that there was a training camp for spies and terrorists in the area. No mention of our guy and his team. Our Recon team was in fact a search team attracted by the smoke.

“Frank, handling this asset is a full-time job. I want him protected at all costs. Mostly from our process people. No written reports of any kind. Clear all your instructions to him with me and no one else. Also, no effort to find or identify him without my express personal order. If he wants us, he will find us. He will notice any attempt of ours to find him. His reaction would probably be to kill you and maybe me and disappear. When we need him, we run the ad he gave us in the Wall Street Journal one week every month until he contacts you.

“Remember, this guy is not a defector. He wants nothing from us. He is an all-pro from our toughest opponent who shares our interests. Doesn’t happen very often. Until now I would have said never.”

September 16, 1977

 

After Terry was picked up and taken to a trauma treatment facility, Peter and Bernadette stopped for breakfast. “I’m almost too tired to eat,” Bernadette said. “I badly need a bath and a good 10-hour sleep. But I’d sooner drive back to the cabin. If you can drive long enough for me to get a two-hour nap, I’ll take over and let you sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ve pushed our bodies hard. I don’t have much more. Adrenalin can only last so long. We’re almost past that. With a huge coffee to sip on, I can drive for a couple of hours. How good is it to get a decent breakfast? People in West Virginia know how to serve up a great one.”

“Give me a chance to go to the ladies room and I’m ready to go. Hope Terry is okay.”

“He’s in good hands. I trust these people to take good care of him.”

“By the way, although I asked no questions, I’m very impressed how a pay phone call delivered a medically equipped helicopter with first class medical people on board. Obviously there is a dark government hand in this somewhere.”

“Knowing when not to ask questions is just one of the things I love about you. During my short call I gave a quick summary of the valley action. I was asked how many people were in our team. I said three, two men and one woman, but only two of us were in the attack force. The other man was on watch and in a standby mode. There was astonished silence on the other end of the line. They will have a recon team there in a few hours.”

“You know we are good, but we can’t keep up action at that level. I may have to go back to Ireland and the IRA.”

“Listen to me, woman warrior, you are done with the IRA! Stick around. I guarantee the level of violence of the last two months will stop. But we will always be in a defensive watchful mode.”

“Good. I’ll join you in the truck in five minutes.”

Peter walked over to the parked RV. “Bernadette, drive to this address, it’s a General Hospital with a helio pad. There will be a chopper there in about 45 minutes. It will take Terry to an excellent trauma facility. No questions asked. We can’t go with him or visit, but we can get telephone updates on his progress and as soon as he is fit to travel, we will pick him up. We can’t visit because I don’t want our names known.

“Is Terry awake?”

“Yes. He has a slight fever but is lucid. I’m a bit worried by the looks of an infection around the groin wound.”

“You can brief the medic on the helicopter when they pick him up. I’ll park near the entrance and be watching. Leave the RV and walk out to the street. I’ll be there. It’s probably useless but wipe off your and my prints as much as possible. I don’t think there is anything we missed transferring to the truck when we picked it up. Right?”

“I’ll look around. But believe we are good to go. See you at the hospital. Where are we going from there?”

“Back to the cabin and Jack. We’ll hold there until Terry is with us and recovered most of his strength. Okay, I need to talk to Terry.”

Peter climbed in the RV and knelt beside Terry. He looked pale but was sipping water from a canteen. He looked at Peter and said, “Some walk in the mountains. How did we do?”

“We’re the only ones left standing. The Soviet got away but bleeding a bit. He’s got a long hike ahead of him. How you feeling?”

“Not worth a damn. What’s going down?”

“My friends will be picking you up in a helicopter in about 30 minutes. And you can ride inside, not strapped on an outside stretcher. You don’t need to answer any questions from anyone about who you are or what happened, except for medical questions. Bernadette will brief the medic on the treatment you’ve had. We can talk to you on the phone when we call. You can’t call us or anyone else. You’re going to a first-class facility with high security standards. When you’re fit to go, we’ll pick you up. Relax and don’t fight the process. It will be okay. Anyway, the top guys think you’re a hero, and I couldn’t change their minds. Never mind any questions. We have to go now. See you soon.”

Before dawn, September 16, 1977

 

Peter signaled Bernadette to drive up into the small pass. He jumped in when she stopped. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Good to see you again.”

“It seemed you were gone for hours.”

“I found signs of his being there. Bloody bandage made from a torn shirt, candy bar wrappers, and cigarette butts. Higher up in the rocks when I chanced using my flashlight, I found a few spots of fresh blood. He’s not hurt badly. I think he saw the RV stop and go lights out. He had no good option. Stay and fight an unknown number of opponents or move on, probably down the road we’re on. He will hear us coming and hide until we pass. I’ll bet he is only 40 or 50 feet off the right side of the road in the tree line.

“When we get in the Charlestown outskirts, find a pay phone. I need to make a call about medical care for Terry.”

The narrow rutted-road dead-ended on County Route 20. Peter said, “Turn left, it is only a short distance to our truck. Less than ten minutes out of our way.”

Peter found the pickup just as they left it. He told Bernadette to follow him. Thirty minutes later he was talking to Frank Batcher from a pay phone.

“Frank, I know this is an open line. If I’m giving you too much detail, tell me. I need some emergency help. The terrorist camp is destroyed. Everyone there is dead except for a Soviet KGB Officer, Yuri Kolenko. He was in charge and escaped. The terrorists were planning on driving an RV packed with explosives near the Old Executive Office Building. Where and what that is I don’t know. There was a large 50- by 70-foot concrete block building that was the bomb-making plant. It was destroyed.

“One of my people was hit hard. He’s had good battlefield care but is still critical. I don’t want to take him to a local hospital with two bullet wounds. The police will tie him to the shootout at the terrorist camp. Not a good thing. Can you help?”

“Yes. Take him to General Hospital in Charleston. It’s on the 800 block of Riverside. Park next to the helio pad. One will be there in an hour. Pilot’s name is Bill Wilson. Your friend will be taken to one of our care facilities. No questions and no costs. When he’s able to travel, he can leave. I assume you will make arrangements to have him picked up. He will have to sign a no-talk about agreement. It’s no big deal. I don’t think his kind would talk too much anyway.”

“My other friend will be with him in a brown RV that belongs to the terrorist camp. There were five RVs in all. The Soviet was in a Ford pickup. All those vehicles are still in the valley. There is some blood on the passenger seat where the Soviet was sitting. Later I found a bloody bandage when I trailed him. I had to break off to get my friend to a hospital.”

“Leave the RV. We’ll take care of it.”

“The cab inside is covered with our prints and a lot of the AR-15 brass at the camp site will have our fingerprints.”

“No problem. I’ll take care of the forensics and thank you for such an outstanding mission. We’ll have a recon team in the valley in two hours. Call me any time for an update on your friend. By the way, how many people in the attack team?”

“Me, my friend, and a woman.”

“What! You did all the damage with three people?”

“Yes. It wasn’t that hard. We only committed two members. I kept one in reserve. He was shot by a random security patrol. Take good care of the patient. I’ll be in touch.”

Peter eased the RV’s door open and slipped out, moving into the roadside tree line. Just to be sure he took a compass reading and then when his night vision peaked, moved quickly due west for ten minutes. Peter thought, Yuri was not hit hard. The amount of blood in the pickup didn’t look like anyone had a bad wound. Also he wouldn’t have left on his own if he was really hurting. So he must be alert. He saw our lights. Saw them stop. His plan must have been for Horace to drive right into the chokepoint. Therefore he sensed danger and moved to a better defensive position where he can see the narrow road and the planned pickup point. He’s thinking he can’t be sure the vehicle is not being driven by Horace or someone sent by Horace.

He will be on high ground close to the road. He’ll not be making a sound and I have to move in quickly. I’m bound to make some noise. If we didn’t need to get Terry medical care, I wouldn’t be doing this. I’d get in a good position, and Bernadette and I would bracket the high ground and search for him in daylight from cover. Much better odds than now. He has the advantage. It depends on how badly he is hurt.

******** 

Yuri was settled in a good defensive position on high ground. Come daylight he would be able to command the area. He knew someone was out there in the dark near this little pass. He couldn’t understand why the vehicle stopped and turned its lights off. Horace wouldn’t have done that. Yuri had struggled to get this far. A bullet had carved a deep furrow high in the outside of his left thigh. He had gotten the bleeding stopped but it started again when he moved positions.

Yuri knew the attack wasn’t by government forces. They would have completed the attack and taken prisoners and collected evidence. No, the camp was attacked by a few highly skilled professional fighters. What did they want? Were they looking for him? Horace must be dead or captured. Otherwise he would have been here hours ago.

He had a half canteen of water, some candy bars, and an extra 13-round magazine for his 9mm Browning automatic. If Horace didn’t come, he would have to walk out through the forest tomorrow. This place will be swarming with security forces shortly after sun up. He ate two of the candy bars, drank deeply from his canteen, and came to a decision. He had to leave now. His ride wasn’t going to happen. The longer he stayed, the worse the odds of his escaping became. With that thought, he was on his feet and moving into the forest close to the road.
Even with his slow pace he would be back where he could get help by nightfall tomorrow.

Peter entered the small pass area from the west, as Yuri left eastward. If Yuri had waited another five minutes, he and his old friend, Kalin, would have met in the darkness.

Thirty minutes later Terry was at the cliff’s edge. He was awake and lucid. Peter said, “The trip down is going to hurt. I believe everyone down there is either dead or gone. Bite on this stick instead of yelling in case I’m wrong.”

Bernadette repelled down first. Peter attached the repelling line to Terry’s harness and took a turn around a nearby sapling and eased Terry over the edge and slowly lowered him to the valley floor.

Bernadette waved to Peter to come on down.

Peter used the repelling line doubled so he could pull it down from the bottom of the cliff face. The RV was old and sparsely equipped but there was a pullout bed for Terry. He was awake and said, “You guys are good. I thought I might have to shoot both of you for torturing a senior citizen.”

“We aren’t out of here yet. Somehow this old RV is going to serve as a tow truck to open a lane in the jumble of wrecked vehicles for us to get through.

“Okay, now the real test,” Peter said as he hit the starter. The engine cranked and coughed once before quitting. The battery sounded weak. On the second try the engine caught and kept running. “It’s probably been here for a while and it was left here because no one wanted to trust it in an emergency.

“Bernadette, when we get to the ambush site, you drive. I’ll take our trusty repelling line and use it if we need to pull a vehicle out of the way. Also I found blood on the passenger seat of the Ford pickup. I think the blood belongs to the Russian. I believe he sent the giant thug up on the ridge to see what he could find to explain this disaster to his betters. When the giant, who I heard called Horace, didn’t come back on time, the Russian headed out on foot. Probably to some previously agreed upon rendezvous. He will be watching for a vehicle coming from the valley and will probably believe his friend Horace is driving this RV.”

“How can you think all that out in the midst of everything that has gone down this night?”

“I really don’t know. It just comes naturally to me, like a clear image. This is close enough. I’m getting out to find a path through this mess. Keep your weapon ready. No lights and keep the engine running.”

The moon was now up and the cloud cover was breaking up. Peter could make out the damaged vehicles and the one lane track. His night vision was sharpening. Clearly the RV in front of the Ford pickup ended up sideways on the track blocking the Ford pickup. Peter put the pickup in neutral. The hand brake was not engaged. He turned the steering wheel hard right and walked back to talk to Bernadette.

He leaned in the window and said, “Pull up behind the pickup and when you see me wave my arm push straight ahead. Start out slow and accelerate until the vehicle starts to move. Push until it’s off the road. Keep your RV on the road.”

Peter stood beside the pickup with the door open and one hand on the steering wheel, keeping it locked in a tight right turn. He waved Bernadette up. When the bumpers mated, she increased power and the pickup, on its flat tires, rolled off the road into a shallow low spot.

Moving the other RV from its cross-road blocking position was more complicated.

Peter had to use their repelling rope to drag the rear of the stranded RV downhill toward Bernadette’s RV. Peter stayed in the towed RV until it reluctantly rolled off the road and rocked to a stop against a tree. The road was now open. Bernadette wasted no time in moving out.

Peter opened the sunroof and stood on the seat with his chest and arms resting on the roof, his rifle scanning for any stragglers or the only man he badly wanted to kill. Bernadette had her bright lights on and kept the speed down. The road was deeply rutted and Terry couldn’t take too much rolling around. They were coming to a sharp rise and a narrowing of the track between two boulder-strewn steep hillsides.

Peter came back to the passenger seat and said, “Lights out. Keep the engine running. If you hear gunfire go fast through the small pass. Don’t stop for another half mile. That road feature is exactly the kind of place the Soviet would have remembered. If his guy, Horace, was to pick him up, this is where it would be. He can also easily kill anyone coming through. From behind those boulders he could almost put his rifle barrel against the driver’s window. Keep a close watch for anyone sneaking up while I’m gone. I’m going to the west and then cut back east to come on the choke point from his blind side. Wait here for 30 minutes, then go fast. Watch for a blinking light, three short blinks. A pause, then two more. Pull up into the pass and wait, weapon ready at all times. Okay?”

“Got it. Please be careful. This is as bad as the IRA ever was. Give me a good luck kiss.”