Run into Trouble

two notes of the code he and Melody used. They came from close by on the right. He immediately dropped to the ground.
    Artie swung his flashlight in the direction of the notes. Two gunshots came from the opposite direction. Artie swung the flashlight in a 180 and pointed it toward where the shots had come from. He fired in that direction as more shots came from there and behind him.
    Artie grunted and dropped the flashlight, but he was still standing. Now Melody and Slick wouldn’t be able to tell where he was. Drake could see by the peripheral light of the flashlight, now lying on the ground, that Artie was aiming the gun at him. He was going to make sure of his original objective.
    The beam of another flashlight zigzagged rapidly toward them from the left, along with the sound of somebody crashing through the brush. It must be Slick. Artie whirled and fired toward the beam. There was a thud, and the flashlight disappeared. Another shot came from almost right beside them. Artie staggered as several more shots followed it.
    Artie was still on his feet. Melody was having a problem aiming in the dark. Artie turned and was about to fire at Melody who couldn’t be more than five feet away. Drake braced his arms on the ground beneath him and lunged upward with his feet toward where Artie’s gun must be. He managed to kick the gun, deflecting its aim as Artie fired.
    Melody was now right beside them. She put her gun to Artie’s head and fired one more time. He dropped to the ground. She kept the gun aimed at him, but he didn’t move. She carefully picked up the flashlight and shone it on his face. She spoke in a shaky voice. “I think I got him. He wouldn’t go down.”
    She pulled Artie’s gun out of his hand.
    Drake said, “Good job. Are you okay?”
    “Yes, and you?”
    “Fine but handcuffed. I think he hit Slick.”
    Melody took the flashlight and went to find Slick. Drake struggled to his feet and followed her. Slick was lying on his stomach at the base of a tree with his head to one side. Melody knelt beside him and called his name. She put her fingers to his neck.
    “He’s still alive.”
    Drake said, “We have to get help. And tell the brass about this.”
    Melody shone the light on Slick’s face. She noticed for the first time that he had beautiful blue eyes.
    “I’ll stay with him. Maybe I can help him.”
    Slick spoke so that they could barely hear him. “Go with Drake. Tell them about the training center.”
    “You need help.”
    “Go. Stop the craziness. Don’t worry about me.”
    Slick lapsed into silence. Melody tore her eyes away from his face and stood up. She shone the light on Drake and saw his handcuffs.
    “We need to find the key and set you free.”
    “Later. We’ve got to work fast. Let’s get to the meeting.”
    She directed the flashlight ahead of them, and they carefully walked out of the woods. A trio of uniformed men, lit by the floodlights, came toward them from around the corner at the front of the lodge, waving handguns.
    Drake said, “Drop your gun.”
    Melody was still carrying it, unconsciously. She let it fall to the ground.
    The men spread out and covered the two. It was obvious that they were itching to shoot somebody. Melody raised her hands. Drake realized that they must be aides for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He turned so that they could see his handcuffs and spoke to the officer with bars on his shoulder.
    “Casey’s man just shot a government agent.”
    Melody pointed at Drake. “He’s the son of Admiral Drake. The guard was going to shoot him .”
    The three looked confused. That could be dangerous. They needed to be won over. Drake tried again. “Casey’s trying to overthrow the government with the help of the military. Giganticorp built the submarine.”
    That wasn’t news. Melody interrupted. “Casey planned and carried out the Malibu attack. The USSR had nothing to do with it.”
    The three looked more confused. Melody continued. “The top floor of this building was used as a training center for the sailors of the submarine. They’re probably all Americans, but we saw training manuals written in Russian to deceive us.”
    The soldier who was wearing captain’s bars spoke. “Are you saying that Casey—Mr. Messinger—engineered this whole thing, and that there’s no threat from the USSR?”
    “That’s correct.” Drake was relieved that he had caught on. “We need to talk to your boss.”
    “Where’s the agent?”
    “In the