162 | John W. Warner IV Inhaling a sandwich and descending the steps with vigor, Bernie suddenly slowed when he reached the bottom floor, then swallowed hard; before him were four Thompson submachinegun-armed U.S. Navy sailors guarding a steel door with a stern faced young junior-grade lieutenant and his sidearm atparade rest. Gents. They saluted, then briskly opened the steel door for him. Oh for shits.. .Allan! Allan] Jesus H. Christ sailing a skiff in his dirty underwear, why the, uh, Seventh Cavalry? he asked, thumb pointing, genuinely surprised. He then gripped the mans shoulders, genuinely happy. In dress whites, a tired Captain Allan Simpson shook hands with a broad smile. Hiya, Bern. Oh-h-h them? Theyre my close companions for this trip. Orders from King. Top shelf. They picked me to brief you because of our long friendship. Small world. What? You mean They sent us by C-98 Pan Am flying boat to Cabo Ruivo, Lisbon, with some Allied top brass. First class travel and booze, shes one helluva classy bird. Then we hopped a drafty Gooney, snuck past the Luftwaffe in Sicily with Hurricanes on our flanks, refueled and did a mail pick-up in Malta, hauled in some Limey brass, and got here only hours ago still airsick. How are you? He opened a military travel thermos of coffee and poured two cups. Need the Navy grind. I cant stand the local axle grease. Sore knuckles but Im okay. Been busy as hell relaxing. Damn, its good to see a face from home.They sat as the airtight door was closed like a sarcophagus, the frigid, air-conditioned room hewn from thick rebar concrete. File cabinets and locked safes lined the walls. Nice and cool in here. Simpson pointed at two olive drab wooden crates stamped USMC. Happy birthday, shithead. I personally hauled these two custom Springfields you requested straight from Quantico. Big, long eight-power scopes, pistol grips on the stock, pretty damn rare. Two beefy top sergeants just won marksmanship trophies with them at 1200 yards and got steamed as hell when I stole them. Christ, I was afraid for my life. Going elk hunting, Doughboy? Bernie hefted one, cycling the bolt. Thanks for the rush delivery. 1939 production with cheek pads. Much more accurate at very long range than anything issued by the Brits or Germans in my opinion, heavier match-grade barrels, smooth triggers, blueprinted actions, tighter tolerances, better steel. They can keep their zero under very tough conditions. He aimed it at a crack in the wall. Jesus, King and the