Shadow Men – 35 – Anders and Grant

Grant hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. The papers he'd found, or rather that his son had found when he'd seen the backpack hanging in the tree, were to be picked up by one of Senator Rogers's people. He hoped it would be soon. The less time he had them in his possession the better as far as he was concerned. He didn't understand much of what they contained but it was obvious that they centered on a traitor high up in one of the covert government organizations.

"Daddy?"

Grant smiled when Nicky raced across the room and came to a dead stop in front of him. "Yes?"

"Can we go to the park now?"

"Didn't you get enough exercise on our walk?"

"Nuh uh 'cause we had to come home too soon."

"I know. Sorry. But we can't leave again just yet. Someone's coming to get that bag you found."

"Oh." Nicky looked crestfallen for a minute then perked up again as five-year-olds inevitably do when another thought crossed their minds. "Can Jerry come with us? Please, please."

"We'll see. It depends how long it takes for the man to get here."

"Goody." Nicky immediately raced out of the room again.

Grant stood, stretched, and went to look out the front window of his small house. They'd only lived here for six months and he was still getting used to the place and the neighborhood. So far Nicky had more friends here than he had but that didn't really surprise him. He wasn't the most outgoing of men even under normal circumstances and with Martin's death he'd become even less so. But that was in the past and once again he pushed it to the far back corners of his mind.

Fifteen minutes passed and Grant started to pace while wishing he'd asked the Senator how long it would take for his man to get here. He realized pacing wouldn't make the time go any faster so he headed to the kitchen to see what there was he could throw together for supper.

As he checked the fridge for ideas he though he heard a sound from behind him. Figuring it was Nicky playing one of his 'sneak up on daddy' games he smiled and ignored it.

"Mr. Eastman," a voice said quietly.

Grant spun around to find himself facing a tall, lean, muscular man dressed in jeans and a dark blue turtleneck. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house," he asked, anger and fear warring for supremacy as he looked for something close at hand to defend himself with.

"My name's of no importance at the moment. I have to get you and your son out of here and we haven't much time. Where are the papers you're planning on handing over to Senator Rogers?"

"Why the hell should I tell you." Grant inched his way toward the butcher-block knife holder, praying he could get to it without the man realizing what he was doing.

The man sighed as he stepped over to move the holder out of Grant's reach. "The man who's coming to get them has orders to kill you and your son."

Grant looked at him in shock. "Why?"

"Because you saw what was in those papers. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong person to give them to. He's in league with the Colonel."

"Why should I believe a word you're saying?"

"Why shouldn't you?" the man countered with a small smile.

"Well, for one, I don't know you, and two, you managed to sneak in here. Hell, there's a million reasons why I shouldn't. For all I know you're working with this Colonel and this is your way of getting the papers before I give them to Senator Rogers."

The man tapped his fingers against his thighs. "All valid points but it's too late to argue. You're about to have a visitor. Just do me a favor, act natural and don't tell him I'm here."

Before Grant could ask how the man knew, the front doorbell rang.

"Go," the man urged, and Grant did.