Free Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) by Richard Turner Page B

the hearts of the folks back home. I’m beginning to think that it was also a dry run to gauge how we would react.”
    “A dry run for what?”
    Sheridan shook his head. He had no idea. Something deep down told him something else was coming and that it would be big.
    They walked along in silence until they stopped at the spot where the cameraman took cover during the attack. They turned and looked across the street where Harry Williams would have been standing and walked over there. Sheridan brought out his tablet and brought up an image of the sloping road that ran past the ADF HQ. On it were three red dots indicating where the Chosen gunmen died during the battle with the security forces.
    “Good God!” exclaimed Cole. “Mister Williams couldn’t have chosen a better spot to view the attack.”
    “I’m right. Harry sacrificed the lives of three men just to watch how our forces would respond to an attack.”
    “We need to let someone know that Mister Williams is probably planning another attack.”
    “I don’t think we need to worry about ADF HQ,” said Sheridan, pointing at four mechanized walkers as they moved into position by the closed front gates. The walkers were tough robots designed for both combat and urban pacification. They stood five meters tall and walked on two sturdily constructed legs. On their two arms were an array of different weapons. From machine guns to anti-armor rockets to non-lethal weapons, the walkers were an imposing warning to anyone planning another attack on the compound.
    “Of course, they have these back home on Earth,” groused Cole. “You know in all my years, I’ve yet to see one of those overpriced toys deployed with the fighting troops on the front lines.”
    “Just like full-body armor,” added Sheridan. “We’ll never be issued with it. It’s far too expensive to outfit everyone in the armed forces with the latest in protective gear.”
    “Ain’t that the truth. We’re fighting a war being supplied by kit from the lowest bidders.”
    Sheridan patted Cole on the arm. “I think we’ve learned all we can from here. I say we grab another coffee and see if you’re right.”
    “About what?”
    “You believe that Harry invited us to join his little game. Let’s see if he wants to play.”
    Cole nodded.  
    They turned to leave just as a couple of police officers walking down the road called out to them.
    “Know any Italian besides how to order food?” Cole asked.
    “Not a word.”
    Sheridan smiled at the approaching officers. He hoped they understood English. Although taught all over the world as a second language, some people never entered the military service and consequently forgot it over time. “Good morning, gents, is there something we can do for you?”
    “ Si , can we please see your IDs?” said an officer with a neatly trimmed black mustache.
    “Is there a problem?” Cole asked.
    “ Si , the army base complained that you have been watching them,” said the other officer, a man with a battered-looking face, broad shoulders, and a thick neck. “After the assassins’ attack, they are nervous about people looking at them.
    “We’re just a couple of journalists who happened to be in the area and decided to see where the shooting took place,” said Sheridan, holding up his camera bag. “We’ll be on our way if our presence is disconcerting to the base.”
    The bull-necked officer held up a hand. “Your IDs, please.” His firm tone told them it was an order, not a request.
    Sheridan and Cole handed over their counterfeit cards and hoped that the officers wouldn’t identify them as fakes. Tension grew as they watched their cards inserted into the bottom of a portable scanner.
    “One minute, please,” said the mustachioed officer as he reached down and grabbed his radio. “Our equipment is a little slow. It shouldn’t take too long for it to run your names though our database.”
    “Sure, do what you must,” replied Sheridan, trying to