The Directives Read Online Free Page A

everyone in Brighton. Take a moment and put yourself in their shoes.”
    Shaking his head in disgust, Baxter pivoted and faced the still-waiting sergeant. “Do as I ordered, Riggs. Now.”
    Sighing, Bishop moved to the side, watching as the three sentries were bound and then forced to their knees. The major moved to stand in front of the frightened men, his voice thick with a condescending tone. “Who is in charge of Brighton?”
    Two of the prisoners glanced at the third comrade, clearly indicating which of them was in charge of the blockade. Bishop had to hand it to the captain of the guard; the man had a little grit. “Who wants to know?”
    “I am Major Baxter, commanding a detachment from the 1 st Combat Team, 7 th Cavalry, United St…,” the officer hesitated, unsure of how to continue. After an uncomfortable pause, he finished with, “The Army.”
    “Well, Major, I don’t believe you,” the now-recovering sentry responded. “The Army I know wouldn’t act like sneaky thieves, stalking freeborn Americans in the night.”
    Bishop barely managed to subdue the snort of laughter that formed in his throat. He was beginning to like the head sentry. Baxter, on the other hand, saw no humor in the response.
    There was now enough light to see the major tremble with anger, the officer’s weight shifting forward while his hands balled into tight fists. “I asked you a question! Who commands Brighton?”
    Bishop, thinking Baxter was about to strike the captive, was at his limit. Inhaling deeply, his foot lifted to take a step toward the aggressive officer, physical confrontation written all over his face. Before Bishop’s boot managed the first step, the sergeant stepped in.
    “Major!” the older, seasoned veteran barked. “Sir!”
    Somehow, the NCO’s voice managed to penetrate Baxter’s ire. Almost as if the subordinate had slapped his superior’s face, the major turned and glared at his second in command. “What? What is it, Sergeant?”
    “Sir, we can’t locate the keys to this tow truck. With your permission, I need to attach a towline and pull it to the side. It’s the only way to open the road.”
    “Smooth,” Bishop whispered under his breath, knowing the real reason why the sergeant had interrupted. “That was some very quick thinking.”
    Baxter, however, didn’t appreciate it. His voice thick with indignation, he replied, “So? What’s your point, Sergeant?”
    “Sir, the captives are kneeling directly in front of the wrecker’s tow hitch. I can’t attach a tow rope while they’re there.”
    Baxter’s head snapped toward the locals, then back to his man. For a moment, Bishop thought the officer in charge was going to rip the sergeant a new one, but he didn’t. “Very well. See to it,” and then the major was off, storming toward the command Humvee as if he had important matters that required his immediate attention.
    Bishop watched as a couple of troopers helped the prisoners to their feet and then herded them to the side of the road. As soon as the bound men were settled, he sauntered over and took a knee beside them.
    “I’m not with the Army, fellas,” he began. “Our illustrious commander is a little on edge this morning. Give me something to work with, and I’ll make this right.”
    The head guard eyed Bishop with a hint of suspicion, but still probed, “What do you want?”
    “Does the tow truck still run? And if so, where are the keys?”
    The man snorted, nodding his head. “We start it every now and then to let someone pass. The keys are over the sun visor. Where else would they be?”
    Bishop chuckled and then smiled at the sentry. “Give me a minute to get this all straightened out. Please don’t hold it against Baxter. The major’s under a lot of pressure these days.”
    “Good luck pulling that two by four out of the guy’s ass,” the man replied.
    Bishop hustled over just as one of the soldiers was arriving with a Humvee. “Sergeant,” he shouted over the