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“Yes sir,” Corporal Cope said. He moved to the radio.

Ogden turned to Climer. “How many of us are there now?”

“Just us four, including you, sir.”

Ogden nodded and checked his watch. It would take about an hour to restrain Third and Fourth platoons and show them G.o.d’s love. Add four to seven hours for the gestation period, and he’d have the first sixty men fully converted a little after noon.

His DOMREC men owned the airport. They could control all movement in and out. g.a.y.l.o.r.d was still evacuated—the only problems he might face would come from the police, emergency workers, or the media. Reporters were undoubtedly outside the checkpoints, waiting to come in with lights blazing and cameras rolling. He’d have to take his men out at night, using the same back roads they’d guarded since yesterday.

“Corporal Cope.”

“Colonel?”

“Start planning logistics,” Ogden said. “At twenty-three hundred hours, I’m taking Platoons Three and Four to Detroit. Climer, you make sure Platoons One and Two complete the conversion process. By tomorrow they need to be ready to head to Detroit when I call them.”

“Yes sir,” Climer said.

“That leaves Whiskey Company,” Cope said. “What about them, sir?”

The 120 fighting men of Whiskey Company. A wrinkle in his plans. He could convert them, but that would take more time, add risk. Might be best to just avoid them. Leaving them at the g.a.y.l.o.r.d airport, even after he moved all of X-Ray Company to Detroit, would maintain appearances for Murray and the g.a.y.l.o.r.d police. Not for long, of course, but now everything was about buying a few hours of discretion here and there.

“Tell Captain Lodge that Whiskey Company is to immediately take over all roadblock work and interaction with law enforcement,” Ogden said. “Whiskey Company is not to interact with anyone from X-Ray Company. Tell Captain Lodge about our detainment drills, and that I need to test Whiskey Company’s ability to operate solo. He and Nails can handle things just fine. That will buy about a day, maybe two, before anyone notices that I’m gone.”

“Yes sir.”

“Come to think of it, Cope, you’d better stay here with Climer,” Ogden said. “Everyone knows your voice, knows you deliver my orders. Who can come with me and operate as my communications man?”

“The most skilled would be Corporal Kinney Johnson, sir,” Cope said. “But to be honest, he’s not too bright.”

“He’ll have to do,” Ogden said. “Make sure he’s in the next batch to be converted. Now get cracking.”

Ogden leaned over the table, staring at the map of Michigan. He could create only so many protectors in the next forty-six hours, and that number paled in comparison to the forces he would face.

Despite the odds, he had to find a way to win. It would take strategy. Grand strategy.