At the Conservancy house on Sunday morning Mama was busy getting breakfast on the table. For one of the few Sundays in a while, she had Pop and Clay waiting to dig into the scrambled eggs cooked in butter, salted and peppered lightly. Her potatoes el Mama, with bits of onion, garlic and green peppers, she seasoned with cilantro, and lightly salted and peppered.

"Eggs are delightful, Mother. How do you do it?"

"Comes natural, I guess. I've been doing it for so long."

"They are delicious, Mama," Clay said, reaching for a biscuit and slathering it with more butter than was necessary.

"I feel on the helpless side this morning. It was Dylan's fifteenth birthday yesterday. He wasn't here for me to bake him a cake or to give him the gifts I bought," Mama said, after chewing a fork full of scrambled eggs. "Pass me the biscuits Father."

"Mama, he'll have cake and ice cream on the Horizon. Greek will see to it," Clay said, instantly regretting saying it.

"Greek? He's the cook on that boat?"

"Cook isn't really the word for what he does, Mama. He's old, hairy, and stumbles around the kitchen. He does the best he can."

Clay cringed when he said it. If Greek heard what he told Mama, he'd take a poke at him. Better to have peace in Mama's kitchen than to worry about Greek's hurt feelings. He might never see the Horizon or the Greek again. He had to live with his mother. He ate at her table every day.

"Doesn't make me feel any better than last year when both of you were gone," Mama said. "I enjoy watching Dylan eat. He's got a good appetite."

"I can't retire because of how much that boy eats," Pop said. "He does have an appetite."

"You'll bake a cake when he comes home. We'll celebrate his birthday then," Clay said. "You know how much he enjoyed it last year."

"I know. I just worry he isn't eating properly, and I miss him."

"Better late than never, Mother," Pop said. "Does seem a might too quiet without Dylan rustling about. When will he be back, Clay?"

"I'm really not sure. Bill and I didn't discuss it. I was a bit out of sorts with Ivan being held by those people. I thought letting Dylan go with Bill would be the best thing for him, but we didn't speak about when Dylan might come home. Bill knows he has school at the end of August. Bill has school soon after that."

"Yes, I'll make sure he has a birthday cake once he's home" Mama said.

"Eggs are particularly tasty this morning, Mother," Pop said.

They were and the biscuits were amazing, and hot enough to melt all the butter Clay used on one.

"I'll fix a plate for Tag," Mama said. "He works seven days a week. When is Ivan coming home anyway? I keep expecting him to be at the table for dinner. I wish everyone would just come home for once. The table seems so empty. I remember a time when the kids needed to squeeze together so we'd all fit. Remember that, John?"

"I do, Mother, but those days are far behind us and we need to take care of today. Living in the past is not a very good idea."

"I know, John. I know. I just wish ..."

"Me too, Mama. Lucy will be home next week. She'll help eat all this food you fix," Clay said, reaching for more scrambled eggs and potatoes, trying to do his part.

"Tag's lucky you spend so much time with him," Mama said. "You have work, your dives, and you still make time for Tag. When will Ivan be home?"

"Don't know, Mama. Taggart and I furnish each other with moral support. Helps both of us get through the long summer days," Clay said. "Taggart takes good care of the Dive Shop. As far as I can tell, it's doing OK with Ivan gone. Business hasn't let up at all. People seem to love the Cove Campgrounds."

"I put up some strawberry preserves yesterday. When you take Tag his plate, I'll put a couple of jars in for Twila. She loves my strawberry preserves. She'll have it come the morning for her biscuits."

Clay loved his mother's cooking. She was as good a cook as anyone around, but Twila's cooking was on the same level with Mama's. If there was a prize in these parts for the best cook around, Mama and Twila would need to share it. They traded recipes like school girls.

Clay parked behind the shop a little after nine. Tag was leaning on the counter with his nose in a book when Clay went inside the shop.

"Hey, Taggart. Hungry? Mama sent you a bag full of food."

"What day is it?" Tag asked without a hint of humor in his voice.

"It's Sunday," Clay said. "You know what day it is."

"If it's Sunday, I'm hungry."

Clay laughed.

"Dylan was fifteen yesterday," Tag said before opening the bag.

"Yeah, he was. He called from Guam last week. I've never missed one of his birthdays. We've always been together on his birthday."

"He called here. I answered the phone," Tag reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, you did. I don't know where my mind is these days. I just can't seem to get it together. I start doing something and I forget what I'm doing."

"I wish I could forget what I'm doing. I don't mind work, mind you, but seven days a week, week in and week out, that's a lot of work."

"I'm more disoriented every day they're both gone," Clay said.

"No one was with him on his birthday. None of us," Tag said. "That had to be weird for him. Too bad he couldn't at least talk to someone from home."

"Greek baked him a cake. He would have picked up ice cream while they were on Guam," Clay said. "Greek's good that way. He took to Dylan right off. Dylan often helped him in the galley," Clay said. "Greek's probably closest to him on the Horizon, after Logan."

"Greek is Greek to me," Tag said, drinking some coffee and shoveling in some scrambled eggs. "Logan is that filmmaker guy?"

"Yes, he is. Dylan has learned a lot from Logan. Mostly Logan lets him go. He doesn't tell him what to do often. I think that's why Dylan likes him. He allows Dylan to have his learning experience without standing in the way of it."

Clay got up and got another cup of coffee. He filled Tag's cup before taking the pot back. When he returned, he picked up the vintage camera and took it back and put it on the highest shelf. On his way back he stopped in front of the gigantic mahogany desk.

Clay opened the top drawer and looked in at the drawer half full of bills and coins. Clay whistled.

"You opening a bank branch or something?" Clay asked.

"They keep me too busy to go to the bank during banking hours. No point in going after the bank closes. You could take it to the bank for me, if you had a mind to," Tag said.

"Today's Sunday. I'll take it tomorrow. Might take until Tuesday to count it. You've made all this money in the last few weeks."

"I made a bank run in June. That's what we've taken in since then."

"Putting in the camping supplies has paid off," Clay said.

"It has," Tag said. "When is the boss coming home anyway? I could use a day off."

"Your guess is as good as mine. I hope he's coming home."

"What do I do with the business if he doesn't come home, Clayton?"

"You're running it. I guess you do what please you. Ivan wouldn't have a business if you weren't here to run it. Harry is in DC. I can't get him on the phone. He'd rather not listen to me bitch about getting Ivan home. Harry will be here for the month of August. We'll make him tell us once he's home."

"He's been gone so long, I can't remember what he looks like," Tag said.

"Want me to bring you a picture, Taggart? I'm going to the house. I'll come back this afternoon. Anything you want me to bring?"

"I could use a day off. If you see one laying around, pick it up for me," Tag said. "I'm fine. I'll see you this afternoon. Tell Mama thanks. That was great. I do love your mama's cooking."

"You're a good man, Taggart. I'll bring you a sandwich from whatever Mama's rustling up for dinner."

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Clay."

*****

The 747 cleared the Yucatan peninsula and headed east northeast. It was all water once they reached the Gulf of Mexico. It was approaching eleven in the morning in Tampa.

"How we doing on fuel?" Schneider asked from the co-pilot's chair.

"We probably have enough," Harvey told him. "I'd estimate two hours worth, but it's only a guess."

"You ever ditch one of these babies, Harvey?"

"No, can't say as I have. Not something I'd look forward to if it isn't an absolute necessity."

"How far?"

"700 miles, give or take a hundred miles."

"About two hours?" Schneider asked.

"Little less. Not even a breeze. We should be there on schedule. By one, I'd guess. I've throttled back some to save fuel. We're at four fifty an hour."

"How much fuel do you think we have?"

"Maybe we could stay in the air until a little after one. I wouldn't want to stretch it any further than that."

"Cutting it close?"

"Closer than I like, but we'll be OK."

"I'm going to stretch my legs," Schneider said. "Don't be falling asleep."

"I'm fine. I've had enough coffee I could fly to Tampa without the plane."

Schneider laughed as he moved into the passenger compartment.

The co-pilot got out of the engineer's chair to sit back down in his now vacant seat.

"We really going to be all right on fuel, Harvey. We're cutting it pretty damn close in my estimation."

"I think we're OK. I'll let you know in an hour. If we're still in the air, then, we aren't likely to fall out of it before we reach Tampa."

"That's not what you told Schneider."

"No point in worrying him. He can't make us more fuel. That diversion ate up time and fuel. It'll be close."

The engines roared as the plane flew east at 450 mph.

Ivan, Popov, and Roland had discussed the possibility that someone would be waiting for the plane to land in Tampa. They might try to take Ivan off the plane. None of them had any suggestions about how they could avoid it.

Popov still had the gun John Carl gave him before the confrontation outside of the gates of the general's compound. He contemplated using it to keep anyone from taking Ivan off the plane.

There was no mention of any plan that involved gun play. They would be on American soil in Tampa. Fighting off people who came for Ivan was a poor solution to the problem, but Popov would assist the Minute Men in whatever action they took. They'd bonded and they weren't likely to give Ivan up without a fight, but there was no sign they planned to resist an attempt to take Ivan.

Ivan was closer to home than he'd been in a while. He was closer to Clay than he'd been in too long. He wasn't going to go willingly if they came for him.

Ivan intended to be home today and in Clay's arms tonight and every night for the rest of his natural life.

Ivan's plans were often thwarted by men he had no use for.

No one in the cabin was aware of the fuel situation. When the pilot moved the big passenger plane fifty feet off the deck to divert to the south to fly over the Yucatan, it used up more fuel without the tail wind.

No one on board knew how much fuel the North American plane had when they left Phnom Penh. No one knew how far they could fly on one tank of fuel.

*****

At eleven thirty seven Senator Harry McCallister asked for landing instructions at Tampa's International Airport. He was on the ground and taxied toward one of the parking places next to the hangars. He positioned the Beachcraft in such a way that he'd see planes landing from the western most runway.

At eleven fifty-five Bob Alexander's Learjet overflew Tampa International Airport. Asking for landing instructions, he was on the ground at five after twelve. He taxied to a place a few yards from Harry's plane. He let the Learjet's engines run when he walked to the pilot's side of the Beachcraft.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry said from the pilots window.

"Come on over and we'll have that drink. We can wait in style. We're both here for the same reason," Bob Alexander said.

Harry stepped down from the Beechcraft. He followed Bob to the Learjet. When he climbed up to the passenger compartment, the inside of the plane looked like the study in a very rich man's home.

Harry took the seat Bob Alexander pointed to as he went to stand in front of a very well appointed bar.

"What kind of wood is this," Harry asked. "Quite beautiful, Bob."

"It's a type of Cedar. I had it custom built after I bought the Learjet. I like the look of it. I spend a lot of time flying this plane."

"Business must be good," Harry said.

"I'm a military contractor, Harry. I can't take all the money they send my way. I've only got so many men I can rely on, and there is no shortage of hot spots to warrant the kind of services the Minute Men offer."

"No wonder the military budget is over five hundred billion. What did this plane set you back?"

"With or without the fancy interior," Bob asked. "Seven million, give or take a million. This is fairly new. I used the company planes up until a few years ago. I decided I needed my own plane to make meetings easier on me. Time is money, you know?"

Bob delivered Harry a bourbon and branch. He drank Knob Hill straight up. They sat in a window facing the runway the North American plane would come in on. It required Tampa's longest runway. It offered a view of the western sky.

"You played the card and you're here to see if you'll need to adapt your wardrobe for the federal pen, Harry?" Bob asked.

"I played the card, Bob. I don't know why I came here."

"And?"

"I fell like a ton of bricks on the director. I don't know how he felt about it, because I slammed the phone down in his ear before he got to talk."

"I admire your style, Senator. In my experience, and I've had some, if you have the ability to hurt someone, and they know you have that ability, they won't see if you mean business or not."

"If he touches a hair on Ivan's head, he'll live to regret it," Harry said. "I already threatened to cut off his funding last year, before all this started. He didn't say anything, but my plane didn't fall out of the sky on the way here. That's a good sign," Harry said.

"I'm able to check private vehicles for bombs. If you think you need the service, I'll add it to our contract," Bob said.

"We'll hold off on that for the moment. We'll know more once Ivan's plane arrives."

"As you wish. You didn't let Mr Director speak. You had him on the phone long enough to read him the riot act. You must have made an impression."

"My impression is what I came to find out. I don't know what the director might do. I realize they have unlimited power to do what they damn well please, but I am a member of the body that controls his budget."

"I flew over the entire complex. If they were coming, they'd have been here shortly after first light. They'd be waiting for my plane when it lands. I see no sign of any government vehicles or personnel. I think you played an ace, Harry."

"One would hope, but like I say, I don't know what he'll do about me."

"I'd offer you my services, but I'd rather not go head to head with his people. They didn't even know we were in Phnom Penh, until they were in custody. By that time, someone checked to see who the North American plane belongs to. It's leased to my organization. It's a matter of public records."

"They'll know my men were there. They'll draw their own conclusions about my involvement. I don't see any government issue hereabouts. If they intend to take an action against me, it will be at a time of their choosing. I'm in good stead with the DOD. They'll frown on someone taking me down."

"I'd like to be as confident as you seem, Bob."

"You don't know your own power, Harry. You could crush me and no one would blink twice. You're a United States Senator. You need to make that work for you and stop worrying about anything. Few senators worry about piss ants getting in their way."

"I regard myself as a servant of the people."

"Have it your way. You're on solid ground, Harry. We'll sit here drinking until the plane lands, and if no one makes an effort to take Ivan, I'm out of here. You do what you need to do, Senator."

"I hope it's as easy as you make it sound, Bob."

"If they have enough fuel to get here, I think we're home free."

"Don't tell me they can't make it here, Bob."

"I don't know, Harry. I know what the message said. I didn't tell you because there was no point. It is what it is, but now that we're both here waiting, you needed to know they could run out of fuel."

"Because of how they avoided Honolulu?"

"More or less. They didn't add all that many miles to the trip, but they lost the favoring tail wind when they went south to overfly Mexico instead of the US." They were on their third drinks when a North American 747 appeared in the western sky.