"What's one truck?" Meyers said.
"One truck, loaded with explosives could park in the middle of this huge erector set and blow it sky high. All the Reds aren't in those planes the Coastal Defense sighted. We have some right here, waiting."
"But he wasn't a Red. He lives in Kingston!" Meyers protested.
"How do you know?" Lowary said simply. He didn't wait for Meyers' answer, he turned and began to walk away.
"Captain!"
Lowary turned at the sound of Tudor's heavy voice. The stocky officer was waving at him from up the road, pumping his arm with clenched fist up and down, the signal for double time. Lowary took off on the run. He could hear Meyers' feet pounding behind him.
Tudor was standing beside a young corporal looking down the steep, rocky embankment at one of the concrete piers supporting the bridge. A small figure was making its way toward it.
"It looks like one of our boy's decided to go over the hill," Tudor said tersely.
Lowary faced the young corporal. "Unsling that rifle, son, and see if you can pick him off."
Lowary felt Tudor's hand on his arm. "There's no need for that, Captain. I'll send a squad down to pick him up."