William W. Johnstone by Phoenix Rising Page B

time next week.”
    It cost Jake four hundred and thirty-two dollars to fill his tank. He was still frustrated when he reached his office. There were now more soldiers at Fort Rucker than there had been at any time since the Vietnam War, but because all training operations had stopped, except for normal housekeeping duties there was not one soldier who was gainfully employed. Jake knew that it could not last like this.
    When Jake reached his office, Sergeant Major Matthews was waiting for him.
    â€œGood morning, sir,” Clay said.
    â€œSergeant Major. How are you coming on your requisitions?”
    â€œI’ve added something to the list. I hope you don’t mind.”
    â€œNo, not at all. If you can think of something else we might need, by all means, acquire it if you can.”
    â€œI already have,” Clay said. “I have twenty barrels of Mogas.”
    â€œYou have twenty drums of gasoline?” Jake asked in surprise.
    â€œNo, sir, barrels, not drums. Drums hold only fifty gallons, a barrel holds fifty-five gallons. I figured it might be good to have.”
    â€œYou figured correctly,” Jake said.
    â€œI know gas is expensive now, but I don’t think we should use this until we have to,” Clay suggested.
    â€œI agree,” Jake said. “We need to put it somewhere safe.”
    â€œI thought I would hide it in a hangar out at Hanchey Field.”
    â€œNo, too many people out there. We need a more remote place than that.”
    â€œHow about one of the stagefields?”
    â€œYes, excellent idea,” Jake said. “And I know where to go with it. TAC-X. It’s thirteen miles away, has four buildings, and is totally abandoned.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll get a truck from the motor pool.”
    â€œNo,” Jake said. “You would have to get a trip ticket for TAC-X and since it is no longer being used, that might arouse some suspicion. I think you would be better off renting a truck.”
    Jake wrote a check for two thousand dollars and handed it to him. “I hope this covers your expenses,” he said. “But I would cash it immediately. And use it up as quickly as you can. The way the value of the dollar is plummeting, it may be worth only half as much this afternoon.”
    â€œI hear you,” Clay said. “By the way, Captain Gooding is the POL Officer. If you would happen to get a telephone call from him, maybe you could cover my ass with a bit of a runaround.
    â€œI’ll do it,” Jake said.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œI’ll leave it in your capable hands, Sergeant Major.”
    â€œI’d better go find a truck.”

C HAPTER S EVEN
    Dale County Truck Rental, Ozark, Alabama—Thursday, May 17
    â€œYou do realize that all I want to do is rent this truck, don’t you? I’m not trying to buy it,” Clay said to the proprietor. “And it is a local move, I’m not going anywhere with it.”
    â€œYou’ll have it back today?”
    â€œI’ll have it back by six tonight.”
    â€œFifteen hundred dollars. And the gas tank had better be topped off.”
    â€œAll right. You’re robbing me blind, but I have to have a truck today.”
    â€œYou got a beef, Sergeant Major, take it up with President Ohmshidi. It’s his dumbass policies that have gotten us into this mess.”
    â€œYeah, well, I can’t argue with you there,” Clay said. “That sonofabitch has been a disaster.”
    â€œWell, why didn’t you tell me you hated Ohmshidi as much as I do? Tell you what. I’ll take two hundred fifty dollars off. You can have the truck for twelve hundred and fifty.”
    â€œThank you,” Clay said.
    When Clay drove through the Ozark Gate he was stopped by the MP.
    â€œYou’ll have to get a visitor’s pass for that truck,” the MP said. “And I’ll need to put down where you are going.”
    â€œI’m moving out of