Liberty's Last Stand (68 page)

“I have a little saved up,” he said, looking down his nose at me. “Need a loan?”

“Ah, right now, no. But if in the uncertain and unpredictable future I unexpectedly find myself in a fiscal hole, I know where to find you.”

“Right up the road. We should be in by spring.”

“It's great to have friends.”

“So they say.”

We drove on to Washington and stopped in front of the lock shop. We went in, and there sat Willie the Wire Varner.

“Where the hell you been?” he demanded. “I thought you two were dead.”

“Still kicking,” I said. “What happened to you after the battle of Kingwood?”

He said he had hitchhiked back to Washington. “I'm no warrior,” he declared defensively. “Ain't got it in me.”

This was the Willie Varner I knew and liked.

We were catching up, telling him of our adventures and listening to him describe his odyssey back to Washington, when my cell phone rang.

I looked at the caller ID—Jake Grafton—and answered it. “Hey.”

“Tommy, where are you?”

“In Washington.”

“Good. Come see me tomorrow. I need you.”

“See you where?”

“Callie and I are bunking at the White House temporarily.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to go to Europe. Some of the Middle East refugees flooding in there turned out to be jihadists, which seemed to surprise the Europeans. Maybe you can help keep us advised of what's going on.”

“See you tomorrow.”

I hung up.

Sarah looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

“Jake Grafton,” I said. “He wants me to go to Europe.”

“It's about time,” she said, and smiled.