Ferndale's Second War of Independance VII

“We’re at war and you weren’t trying to kill people? You could have done a lot of damage with that, what ever it was,” the major pointed out. “It could have won you the war.”

“There are other explosions to create, if you don’t take us seriously,” John said shrugging. “That one was, like I told you at first, just a warning.” He had now completed his mission, he had told the major that they had missed hitting his men on purpose, plus he had gotten a good look around the camp and now had much more information on the way that the guard was set up and everything then Ferndale had had before. It helped that the guards had gossiped while they had watched the entrance of the tent that he was held in.

“See, that’s the thing, I can’t imagine someone of your strength and obvious power, not matter how much you deny it, willing go off on a dangerous mission that was only supposed to be a warning. It seems far more likely to me that something went wrong and you’re trying to hide that you messed up,” the major said. Before John could protest, to the surprise of both of them someone dressed all in black walked right into the tent.

“Liz?” John asked with surprise. He had seen his partner’s injury before he left but he hadn’t considered that during the time that he had been captured she had probably healed enough to be back on duty.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the major demanded. There had been a guard posted outside of the door so that John couldn’t escape and here was someone just walking in like they owned the place.

“I’m a friend of his. Sorry it took me so long to come and get you John; Larlarn had to have a word with some of the guards.” John flinched outwardly, Larlarn was the fighter out of the spies, and if she had had a word with anyone then they probably wouldn’t be up for a while. In a group that usually talked its way out of trouble or ran away Larlarn was truly unique.

“What do you mean pick him up, we don’t just hand over our prisoners,” the major sounded angry.

“I think you might have to,” Liz said, her voice soothing. “I’m afraid we have rather a lot of our people around this tent at the moment and most of them are dressed like your own soldiers so people won’t get suspicious. We’ve been keeping an eye on how you have been treating John and we aren’t very happy with it. In fact there are some people outside who would like to meet you, so you can give up our lowly foot soldier here, or you could go talk with the people outside.”

“This sounds more like a gangster job then an army job the way you’re talking,” the major complained, unmoved. “All I have to do is shout and you will have a whole army attacking your group.”

“Is that worth your life? The life of one foot soldier against your life, you make the decision because I swear that if you shout any sort of warning at all I will cut your throat before we fight our way out.” Just like all of the other spies, and indeed most of the other citizens of Ferndale, Liz carried a knife at all times. She drew hers and even John found himself wondering if she was serious or bluffing. He knew, having been her partner for a very long time, that she was usually a gentle sort, but then again this was a time of war and the enemy leader was right in front of her. She looked dead serious anyway, that was what mattered.

To be continued...