It Ain't Paranoia if... Pt. 02 Ch. 09

I placed the ring on her finger; we showered together, expending our energies equally between cleanliness and foreplay, dried each other, and spent two hours making love. This time she held the pillow.

****

Although he's usually unaware of such things, it was Dos who looked up from eating breakfast, pointed at the coffee cup she was drinking from, and asked, "Mom, where did you get the pretty new ring?" That alerted Grace, who looked at the ring, saw its location, noted the smug smile on Mom's face, and quickly turned her gaze on me.

"Dad...? Does that mean what I think it means?" When I just smiled back, she shrieked, jumped up, and exclaimed "You're getting married again?"

That thought excited Dos enough to stop eating, grin from ear to ear, and ask, "Really?"

My nod and Kaitlyn's enthusiastic "Yes, Honey!" brought breakfast to a standstill, and I was glad I ordered room service instead of going to the busy restaurant downstairs. After hugging her mom, our daughter settled on my lap to tell me how happy she is and how much she loves me, and our son settled on his mother's lap so he could hold her and they could giggle like girls.

"Have you decided when and where?" Grace asked astutely. Kaitlyn looked at me.

"No we haven't, sweetheart, and I need to talk to your mom about it, but... I do have an idea."

Kaitlyn gave me a knowing smile, and proposed, "At the Desert Lair? Where this all began anew?"

At my nod, she replied, "Yes, I'd like that, a lot! On the patio, in the early evening, with the sun going down over the desert and the distant mountains, while we celebrate with our friends and... should we invite my parents?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Have you told anyone else?" Grace asked.

"No, sweetheart, this only happened last night, and, of course, we wanted you and Logan to know first!" I answered.

"How did he ask you, Mom? Was it romantic?"

Kaitlyn relived the story with our children, on the balcony, and by the time she finished I was expecting Larry Levinson to appear wanting to buy the rights for the Hallmark Movie Channel. We lacked the ubiquitous full moon, but otherwise it had been as romantic as one of the proposals in his movies, minus the Kay Jewelers box.

The kids called Mimi and Papa Joe, who were beyond thrilled about our nuptials, and about the opportunity to come visit us. While they were visiting with their daughter and grands, I stepped onto the balcony to make two calls. The first was to Esteban. "Any changes to the situation or timeline since we last talked?"

"We have continued to acquire and analyze information we need rather urgently to share with you and the others, but the timeline hasn't changed at this point."

We set up a time to meet on Monday, and then I called Doc to share the news. He was excited, pleased, and he quickly reminded me he had been vested by the State of Texas with the authority to marry people, and had conducted numerous weddings over the years.

"That's the other reason I'm calling; would you be willing to officiate, and when are you available? We intend to have the ceremony at the Desert Lair."

"Of course I will, and whenever! I have no other pressing obligations, so pick a date and time - I'll be there, and so will the other old farts! Want us to barbeque for the reception?"

"Thanks, Doc - we're both happy you will be officiating. As to the reception, I have some things to work out with my betrothed, so I'll get back with you - probably in a day or two."

Returning inside, I loudly asked, "How soon can your parents come, Kaitlyn? Sooner would be better."

She nodded without answering, and continued her conversation. After a couple of minutes, she hung up, and turned to me. "If we send the plane, they can come anytime. Claire and Bill want to come too, so we need to reserve rooms somewhere close. Probably a few, if you're inviting others."

"We'll put together a list on the flight home tomorrow. Today we're going to visit the missions, and tonight we're eating on a riverboat. How long will it take you guys to get ready?"

The kids took 15 minutes, Kaitlyn only 25, somewhere near a personal record. Perhaps because she wore very little makeup, she pulled that glorious mane of hair into a ponytail, and donned black tights under an off-white sweater dress with black booties. Her jewelry was limited to a gold cross necklace and the engagement ring.

Simple, but scrumptious. Still, I had to tease: "So now that you caught me, no more miniskirts and glittery eye makeup?"

"Want me to take an additional hour to get dolled up, or go see some 18^th century Spanish missions?" she asked incredulously.

"You look lovely; let's go." I quickly replied.

We made our way south on St. Mary's, past the old Lone Star Brewery, to Mission Road, and on to Mission Nuestra Señora de la Purísma Concepción de Acuña (Mission Concepción), relocated from east Texas to this site near the San Antonio River in 1731. Like most of the other missions, Concepción 'converted' thousands of Native Americans, mostly Coahuiltecans, and killed thousands of others, who died of European diseases against which they had no immunity.

The grounds of Concepción are considered an archeological gold mine because many still-older ruins have been unearthed around and near the remains. Unlike other missions we would visit, the acequia system (irrigation ditches) had deteriorated and largely disappeared.

While driving to our next stop, we saw the sign designating what is believed to be the site of the short-lived Mission San Francisco Xavier de Najera, about which little is known.

From there, we turned onto Padre drive and bypassed Mission San Jose, so we could visit the others before spending more time there.

San Francisco de la Espada is the southernmost, oldest (est. 1690), and smallest of the missions, but has the most elaborate acequia and aqueduct system, including Espada dam, and the system is still in use.

It was also the least developed for visitors, but had wonderful walking trails along the river and irrigation ditches. We enjoyed ourselves so much we decided to eat our picnic lunches there before resuming our explorations. Cold fried chicken and cole slaw never tasted better.

We crossed the San Antonio river and drove north a short distance to San Juan Capistrano, which was once a Native American trade center, where crafts, vegetables, and fruit were bartered. With its elaborate acequia system and fortified compound, some 300 years ago it was entirely self-sustaining and quite busy as a farming and trading center.

Mission San Jose (y San Miguel de Aguayo) is considered the "Queen Jewel of the Missions" for good reason. Founded in 1720 a few miles south of the older San Antonio de Valero (The Alamo), San Jose was the largest and most heavily populated of the missions, and remains an active parish today.

Its imposing complex of stonewalls, bastions, granary, and magnificent church was completed by 1782, and soon became the target of raids by Apache and Comanche raiders because of the relative prosperity of its inhabitants. The few presidio soldiers garrisoned there taught the Native Americans how to use guns and cannons, and they successfully held off the raiders time after time, losing only those tending the grazing livestock on more distant grasslands when the raiders attacked.

As impressive as the beautiful chapel was, nothing inside quite compared to The Rose Window (La Ventana de Rosa). The elaborately sculpted stonework surrounding the window is considered one of the finest examples of baroque architecture in the United States.

Like the other missions, it had fallen in disrepair by the early 1900s, and the Works Progress Administration (WPA) played a major role in its reconstruction and rehabilitation during the 'great depression' era. Today the grounds also host the headquarters of the San Antonio Missions Historical Park, and, as with the other missions, archeological exploration and restoration continue.

We were strangely invigorated by all we had seen, and yet mentally and physically exhausted by all we had taken in. We made our way back to the hotel, where we rested, cleaned up, got dressed again, in warmer clothes, and made our way to our river barge for a catered meal and river tour.

The myriad lights and decorations were breathtaking, but the highlight of the night was leaving the riverboat to experience the light show on the walls of the historic San Fernando Cathedral. Entitled "San Antonio: The Saga," the show traces the history of the area from before the first Spanish/Canary Islanders arrived in 1718 into the 21^st century. The actors and computer animations were lifelike, the laser display on the walls of the beautiful church was amazingly clear, as were the music and voices, and the story entirely compelling to those of all age groups.

We walked back to the hotel, and were soon asleep. It had been an exciting but tiring day.

****

The dawning of the new day changed our focus from our mini-vacation in San Antonio to returning home and moving forward with wedding planning. We ate a hearty breakfast, informed our pilots of our desire to leave as soon as they were ready, and asked them to arrange car service with our escorts.

Instead of returning to the airfield where we landed, our plane had been moved to Stinson Field, located on the south side of San Antonio "as a precaution," Esteban explained when he picked us up. The armed escorts who had protected us and afforded us privacy rode in a second Suburban.

The first fifteen minutes of the drive, Esteban asked about and listened to the experiences the kids remembered most. As we neared the airfield, with the children talking to mom in the back seat, he grew solemn. "Jefe, we don't have anything concrete yet, but your friend across the river has advised us that a team of sicarios have been hired to kill you. We believe that attempt will be in conjunction with the insurrection, the date of which we don't believe has changed, but we want to be especially careful with you and your family until we know more."

I sighed. Homegrown insurrectionists, foreign mercenaries and terrorists, and now well-trained assassins; what had a simple businessman done to draw such attention from ill-intentioned men and governments around the world?

Our pilots were peppy and pretty, dressed in form-fitting jumpsuits that zipped up the front; they asked if I minded them not being in uniform, and giggled at my eye roll and Kaitlyn's snort.

After the kids went to the back of the plane to play games, I teasingly apologized for taking them away from their beaus so early. Jacki replied, "No problem - I think they've enjoyed all of us they can stand for one visit!" They giggled like teenagers. with Kaitlyn joining in; I grinned and shook my head, imagining what it must take to wear out fit young aviators.

'Let that be a warning, should you ever be tempted, old man' I told myself. I then considered the damage Kaitlyn would do to the two young airmen, and shuddered at the prospect of growing old with a sex fiend. 'Ah, but that why they have HRT for older guys' I assured myself.

Kaitlyn let them get us in the air and headed for home on autopilot before she "inadvertently" flashed her ring until Addy noticed. That was cause for a mid-air story retelling and celebration that lasted until I told them we were flying over mountains now, so perhaps we should land soon.

****

During the approach to the runway at Crescent Moon, we saw scores of men in camo, drilling in small and large groups. As we dropped in speed and reached landing height, I noticed significant changes to the number and payload of our missile defense stations. From higher up, they had been invisible under their camo but now you could see under the canopies. Some I recognized from the storage depot, but at least three that I saw were new, and even the old stations seemed to include more weaponry. However, we were moving so fast I could only catch glimpses, so it could be me seeing what I want to see.

One thing I was certain I saw were camouflaged trucks with what looked like eight or ten canisters for launching rockets mounted on the rear. Those were parked on the ridge in 'pits' that partially hid them. I had no idea what they were, and neither pilot would admit they knew... but I could tell they did. Jacki suggested I speak to command after we deplaned.

They dropped us off at the Crescent Moon headquarters, turned back onto the runway, and proceeded to Dallas to pick up Claude, Eva, and her kids.

The colonel and his aide met us. He advised us that maneuvers were taking place this week at the 6400 Ranch, which caused me to question his availability for the meeting tomorrow at noon. He assured me he would be there, but he would be alone because all other command personnel would be engaged in the exercise, and his aide had been summoned to Washington to report on the readiness of the trainees at the base. His aide was off to his left; the colonel winked at me with his right eye; I subtly nodded - just one less mole/traitor to deal with.

Sunday afternoon was clear and cool at our mile-high home the Davis Mountains, so after an enthusiastic greeting from Duke, we put our clothes away, dressed warmly, and went on an adventure. Duke sat in the middle of the second seat of the Mule, between his two favorite humans, who told him all about their experiences in San Antonio, while assuring him he was missed. He assured them they were missed too, with whines and wet doggie kisses. Kaitlyn turned and watched with a loving smile.

We parked in the brush beside the road, out of the sight of passers-by. I gathered my Remington 700 .308 with detachable box magazine, unstrapped my pistol, and led the family down the rough path leading to the springs. We made camp behind a jutting wall of rock, keeping us invisible from the road. After a little unsuccessful fishing, a little exploring, and a little creature watching, we built a small fire, cut some green branches, sharpened one end, and roasted wieners on them.

Kaitlyn heated the pot of chili on coals raked to the side, and the kids 'set the table' - a ground tarp draped over a raised flattop rock - with paper plates, napkins, and silverware. With the addition of chips, Pepsi, and roasted marshmallows for desert, we enjoyed a woodland feast beside our creek.

I brought doggie jerky, bacon strips, and biscuits for Duke, but he also enjoyed several wieners and pieces of chili-soaked buns the kids tossed him.

It was getting dark when we finished our meal, which gave us the opportunity to watch the dim stars emerge in the crystal blue sky, until they were brightly shining, entirely embraced by darkness. I told a story about Jim Bowie's lost treasure, and added a scary story about long-dead conquistadors guarding a lost Spanish treasure with their swords, before we realized it was already late for a school night.

Duke led us along the trail back, Dos right behind him with a small LED flashlight. I followed, with the rifle slung over my shoulder, a pistol in my right hand, and the trash sack in my left hand; Grace clung to the tail of my jacket, and Kaitlyn carried our picnic basket and leftovers.

It was eerily dark and quiet, with the tall grasses that outlined our pathway swaying gently in the breeze. I felt attuned with nature, my senses super-vigilant, but I knew it would be Duke who sensed danger first, so I watched him for the sign that, thankfully, never came.

Tavo and Esmy met us outside the house, jealous that we went on an adventure before they got back, but happy to see their estranged (for three whole days) friends.

****

Our Monday meeting, sans spies/moles, was exceptionally enlightening. I learned that the new, long and low-slung building I had noticed distant from the barracks and hangers actually was a hanger: a hanger for drones of all sizes, purposes, and configurations. A good number were reconnaissance drones; the rest were combat drones, or unmanned combat aerial vehicles (UCAVs) or, as a class of weaponry, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs). I asked for more details and heard a few names I'd heard before, like Predator and Reaper, something called Sky Guardian, and another the Colonel said was classified as 'experimental'.

"And we have personnel qualified to fly these things?" I asked the Colonel.

"Indeed we do; most arrived with the drones, but we already had several, including your two highly-skilled pilots. Behind the hanger, built into the base of the mesa, is the command center for the UAVs. That's where the pilots will be, although they could be six states or continents away and still control their aircraft.

"But that's not all. Did you notice the trucks with a pod mounted on the back?" he asked.

"I did; what are those?"

"HIMARS rocket systems. I'm sure you've heard of them, but what they do is target and immediately launch when artillery is fired or an enemy missile is launched. They can also be used against ground troops and to destroy vehicles or buildings. We only have a few scattered around this area, but it's my understanding that they are more scattered across west Texas.

"Perhaps most importantly, although we don't know their locations, Patriot PAC-2 and PAC-3 missile systems are deployed to protect sensitive targets, including state capitals.

"I keep reminding myself that when you think you're ready, you're fooling yourself. But I do... think we're ready. We have better people with better training, we have superior weaponry, intelligence, and reconnaissance, and solid communication and command structures.

All they have on their side is zealotry among those in a cell, cells that don't necessarily get along, and a resentment of command. I strongly doubt zealotry is going to be enough when artillery, missiles, drones, and F16s are coming at you!"

"I certainly hope you're correct, Colonel, but I agree with your earlier caveat - you never know when you're really ready, or where you're weak, until the fighting starts.

"Now, let's change the subject; what about the sicarios hired to kill my family and me? Any information on them?"

"We know they are still in Mexico, but they do seem to be getting ready for something, based on eyewitness determinations regarding the state of their training. We have eyes on the ground and in the air, so don't spend too much time worrying about them. When the time comes, we'll beef up security wherever you are."

"This brings me to another issue, Colonel - my home and friends down in the Bend. Kaitlyn and I are planning our wedding, which will be held at the house I call the Desert Lair, on or around the 21^st - 23^rd. The date will be finalized soon.

"We will be there, and at La Kiva, a restaurant and bar between Study Butte and Terlingua. We'll have guests staying at Terlingua Ranch and Lajitas, both of which are literally on the border, so there will be travel to and from there as well.

"Claude and Clay will have a full contingent of their men arrayed, but having good intelligence and surveillance makes us a lot stronger, and having a rapid response force at the ready could prevent a tragedy. Please see what you can do to assist us."

Colonel Adams responded, "First, congratulations on your engagement - she is a stunningly beautiful, charming, and intelligent young woman! You are a most fortunate man!

"As to the other, no, I don't foresee a problem erupting before the end of the year, based on what we know now. I can guarantee drone oversight and protection, but I'll run it up the chain and let you know what additional support we can provide."

Juan Jose (JJ) was my Ultimate Solutions security officer today, for the first time; I was impressed. Very professional, very poised, intelligent, articulate, handsome, wiry rather than large, with the movements of a stalking mountain lion. I knew he had been reassigned from San Antonio and he was a member of the ISR, but I didn't know why he was here, so I asked. He referred me to Esteban, who was driving in later today with three other ISR members in their van.