Free Riding the Red Horse by Jerry Pournelle, Christopher Nuttall, Rolf Nelson, Chris Kennedy, Brad Torgersen, Thomas Mays, James F. Dunnigan, William S. Lind Page B

knew, were down to the commander and the atmosphere he'd constructed. And although it was painful to review the details of the various collaterals, the mistakes did give him confidence that he would be able to prove worthy of General Norstad's trust and improve the unit's performance.
    He was being driven home from the base by Mike Hernandez, his driver for the last three months, when he noticed that the car was not traveling on its customary route. He looked out the window, a little confused as to why the corporal had turned off the main road, and didn't recognize the neighborhood.
    “What's going on, Corporal.”
    “Traffic detour, Colonel,” Hernandez answered, his eyes never leaving the road.
    That made sense, James thought, although he hadn't noticed any of the customary orange signs. But he began to grow suspicious that something was amiss when Hernandez abruptly pulled into an elementary school parking lot without warning. The lot was empty except for a white Ford, against which a short, slender man wearing a Phillies cap was casually leaning.
    “Mike?”
    “This man wants to talk to you, Colonel. I understand it's very important.”
    “What the hell is this, Mike? I don't give a damn what he wants–”
    For the first time, Hernandez turned to look into the back seat and James recoiled from the unexpectedly arrogant look in the man's dark eyes. “Shut your mouth, Colonel. Now, get out of the car and talk to the man. He's waiting for you.”
    For the first time, James felt the cold sensation of fear enter his body. What was wrong with Hernandez? Had he been subverted? It was worrisome, but somehow, this didn't feel like an assassination attempt. He took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped out of the car. Hernandez got out too, but he did not follow.
    The man wearing the baseball cap smiled and held up a tablet. He was dark-skinned and handsome, with hawkish features. “Good evening, Colonel. You will excuse the interruption, I hope. I have something to show you, Colonel. You will find it of interest, I think.”
    “All right. Who are you? What's your name?”
    “You can call me David.” The man tapped the tablet. “Here, have a look.”
    James glanced at the image on the screen and froze. It was a picture of Bruce at football practice, and judging by the angle, it had been taken from inside his school.
    “Go ahead, just flick your finger across it. It's a touch screen. I'm sure you know how they work.”
    His heart in his mouth, James flicked past one, two, three, pictures of his children as they went about their day. Four, five, six. There were pictures at school, at the mall, and even in their back yard. Some were as recent as last week.
    “Are they…” he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. “Did you–”
    “Your children are perfectly safe, Colonel. For the moment. However, there is one more thing you need to see.” He took back the tablet from James's nerveless hands and tapped it a few times. “There. Have a look.”
    James knew what it was at once. He had seen too many live videostreams not to recognize one now. It was Jennifer in the kitchen, engaged in making something that involved her mixing bowl. Cookies, most likely. The image was shaking slightly; it was being shot with a handheld camera.
    “We are rather less well-equipped than your fine United States Air Force,” David said. “But you are a fighting man, for all that you fight like a coward from on high. You know a bullet will kill as effectively as a bomb. It is poetic justice, is it not? You watch us from afar, we watch you from very close by.”
    James stared at the image of his wife, who appeared to be singing cheerfully along with the radio. “You don't intend to kill me. Or her. You want something from me, don't you.”
    David smiled. His teeth were very white against his skin. He was clearly of Arab descent, although his accent appeared to indicate that he was a native French speaker. Algerian,