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Chapter 40 -- ELKQTTRTTZGJRVPDSSHDI
William led Carter and Jessica from his office to a right turn in the corridor, toward the back of the building. At the end was a pair of glass doors. Opening one he held it for them to pass, and they found themselves on a balcony overlooking a wide green field, with patches of trees here and there, two small groups of buildings, and some paved paths running among them. "I am a very wealthy man," he said, "and with not a lot of time remaining to spend my money. Not that money has had much meaning for me for quite a few years, except as a means to an end. I was married at one time. Two children, a boy and a girl, about your age, Jessica. They were not quite teenagers when my wife left me, and of course the children went with her. She made the divorce more acrimonious than it should have been, and my relationship with my children was somewhat distant until they were adults and could make their own decisions. "In any case, they are both having what I hope are happy lives of their own. And I would like for them to continue to do so, and their children. But as you know, that is unlikely to happen unless things change. I intend to use as much life as I have left to effect such changes." He paused, looking out over the area before them. They watched as troops of men emerged from the two groups of buildings, lining up in formations of four rows each. One group was dressed in what looked like military camouflage, the other in matching black outfits. Carter thought they looked like ninjas, or at least like ninjas in movies. And indeed, they were wearing the stereotypical swords. The men in camouflage had rifles slung on their shoulders. "These are, you might say, my household guard," William said. "I call them the Ninja and the Rangers. More to the point, while they provide security at this time, that is not their ultimate purpose. About two hundred, maybe more, of the freeholds' personnel have come here, as you have, for advanced training. At some point in the future, they will be assigned targets. They are an important part of our final operations." He didn't have to explain. They already knew what would happen if things came to the expected conclusion. Jessica knew when they decided to be a part of it her father wanted them to have the best possible chance of survival. There was no time now for recriminations, even if she had had any. Even without Carter's vendetta, staying behind was probably never an option. They would be unleashing a force of stealth warriors on the enemy, mostly in the nation's capitol but in some other areas as well. "Let's do down and meet them," William said. They went back to the elevator and descended to the ground floor, and to an exit at the back. As they emerged, two men approached. One was in black, the other in camouflage. The man in black bowed, the one in camouflage saluted. William returned the bow and salute. "Jessica, Darrell," said William "this is Miyamoto Sakashi and Colonel Michael Schneider, commanders of the Ninja and the Rangers. I leave you in their most capable hands. I'll be seeing you occasionally over the next few days, but for the most part they will be working to impart to you as much of their knowledge and experience as possible." William returned to the house, leaving them with their the two warriors of two very different types. "Well," said Michael, "let's do it. This way." They followed them first to the side where Sakashi's men were standing. "This is Jessica, and Darrell," Sakashi said in the perfect English of one whose whose American ancestry was at least a couple of generations. The ninjas all bowed in unison, and Jessica and Carter instinctively responded in kind. "Let's go meet my men," Michael said, "and we'll get started." A similar introduction followed on the Ranger side of the field, and they went with Sakashi and Michael into a small building that apparently functioned as an office. They sat down in the small group of chairs in front of the desk. "Miyamoto and I command the Ninja and Ranger platoons," said Michael. "There are two hundred of us, four twenty-five man units in each platoon. Each platoon is divided into eight squads of six. That's how they operate, in regular duty here and in likely future operations. There are some differences in the Ninjas, which I'll let Miyamoto explain. "As for us, we are Mr. Randalls security force, and has he has said, part of the ultimate contingency force. A little about my men - we're all former special forces, mostly army. I retired as an army Colonel a few years back and came to work for Mr. Randall, and have since created the Ranger force. Miyamoto will give you a rundown on his side." "Thank you, Michael," said Miyamoto. "You might find referring to my platoon as ninjas to be somewhat theatrical, they are in fact trained to a very high level of what are often regarded as the ninja arts. Stealth, hand-to-hand combat, guerilla tactics, whatever it take to carry out a strike against a, usually, more powerful enemy. All of us are of Japanese ancestry, our families having lived in this country for generations. We are all determined, as are Michael's men, to preserve what our ancestors and yours built and seek to preserve." "We'll be on the front lines when the time comes," Michael said. "Meanwhile, we'll do our best to prepare you for that time. What we'll do over the next few days is give you advanced training in both the covert martial arts of the ninja and the conventional military weapons and tactics. So I'm going to leave you with Miyamoto for the next couple days." For the remainder of the day and the next two days, they joined the ninjas in their regular practice, learning some new fighting techniques but mostly the use of escape and evasion, improvised weapons and other skills of the shadow warriors. Despite the nature of their work and the legends attacked to the term, these men were all quite normal in their demeanor away from the practice floor or yard. Jessica for the first time was the only woman among a large group of men, but found nothing uncomfortable about it. She was accustomed to being just one of the guys among her fellow freeholders, only now they were all men. Whether they had any idea of her relationship with Carter, none acted in any improper. Not that she expected anything different - the freeholders way of life was based on respect for their comrades and never being presumptuous. They certainly did not treat her with kid gloves, however, again in keeping with the way things were done. She and Carter both acquired the usual complement of bruises and scrapes during the activities. They did some exercises with the cliched ninja tools, but as Miyamoto told them the ninja connection was more for effect than anything else. They might wear a black outfit when stalking a target at night or penetrating a facility, and they certainly would use some of the traditional weapons and techniques, but the ninja way was spiritual and philosophical. He did, however, present each of them with a daisho, a matched set of the swords once carried by the samurai. "Each of us has a set," he told them. "Even though they are a symbol of the samurai, while we're taking liberties we might as well do this. We would use these in combat under the right conditions, as we would any weapon. You may, at some time in the future, find them useful." They had dinner with William each evening, joined by Hugh and and once by the leader of another small, in numbers, freehold that was like theirs and Williams quit wealthy. Theodore Turner was, like William, a man who made a fortune at a relatively early age and retired to work for the rescue of the republic. Like William, he used his fortune to finance a group of personnel who would be useful in the coming fight, while working on useful projects while waiting. An experienced pilot and owner of several aircraft, he provided routine air transport for the league, and would play an important role in events to come. He was well acquainted with Jessica's father as well, as a member of the Council they saw each other regularly. He was interested by Donald's construction of a runway at Sierra Verde. "That will certainly prove useful," he said. "Especially as you and your other comrades will be involved in the action at the center of the battle. I would have liked to meet them - yours is an interesting story. And I'm glad they were fortunate enough to get hold of you, Darrell. I'd guess that you are as well." Carter allowed that he was, but not much beyond that. "I understand, to the degree that I can without being there, your feelings," he said. "I understand your other colleague was in a similar situation when you... acquired him." "What they did to me," Carter said. "I couldn't watch that happen again. And it gave us a chance to poke the bear and do a logistics exercise at the same time." "Which apparently went flawlessly," said William. "As for the bear, he's still angry. We've monitored the situation to see what reaction is. And we occasionally stir things up. We have someone call in to a local talk show or drop a tip to the local news to send them on a wild-goose chase. More for our own amusement than anything else, but things like that could be used to divert resources at an opportune time in the future." "To be fair," said Jessica, "they had no way of anticipating it. So they weren't prepared for it." "Of course," said Carter, "the next poor guy gets in a jam like that, they'll lock him up without bail. But I guess a cop that finds himself in the situation, is probably asking for it. By now everyone should be warned." "It would seem that they are," said Theodore. "Cops, the ones that are left, aren't taking chances. There have been numerous cases of them watching the perpetrator escape rather than fire on them. Apparently if it's a choice of losing your job or going to prison, it's not hard for most of them to make." "Yeah," Carter said. "The cities are pretty much jungles now. The ones that can get out have done so, the rich are safe behind their gates and armed security, and the animals are killing each other off." "We should be so lucky," said Theodore. "Even at the rate they're going it'll take forever. They still propagate too fast." "We'll see what happens when they're cut off," said William. "I suspect that alone could sap the government's resources to the breaking point. With what we'll throw at them.." He didn't need to finish the sentence. While it was difficult to predict an outcome, it appeared that the regime was at the cliff's edge and had no idea of what was coming, and without even a plan, it would be quickly overwhelmed. "The real challenge will be preventing something worse from replacing it," said Theodore. "I suspect that our greatest risk is when the regime is helplessly facing complete chaos and has to act. Probably the worst thing that can happen is for the military to come in on their side. We could probably still keep them off-balance more or less permanently, but at a much higher cost." "How prepared are we to deal with that situation?" asked Jessica. "We're not completely at a loss," William replied. "The top-level generals are the most political - that's how they get four, even three stars. The ones just below, especially the ones nearing retirement, are more reasonable. More likely to follow their conscience. And despite the destruction of the military ethos over the past twenty years or so, it remains surprisingly strong in the ranks. "We have quite a few contacts there, and it's likely that if the forces - that would be primarily the Army, the others have not much of a role to play in internal affairs - are given the choice of trying to continue in the same direction and continuing chaos or returning to constitutional rule and having order restored very quickly will choose the latter." "It's a matter of getting the picture in front of them," said Theodore, "and being able to demonstrate that we are the ones with the power to end it. That will be the crucial factor. At some point negotiations will have to happen, and we will have to have a way to make them happen without endangering ourselves." "So," Jessica said, "on a scale of one to ten as they say, what's the outlook?" "If we're able to carry out most of our objectives," said Theodore, "eliminating a large number of the troublemakers, creating a state of fear and confusion in the Capitol, and demonstrating our destructive power - we can probably bring them to the table. Adding in the chaos created by free-lance opportunists, and the independent ones that we have some influence with, we're confident they will make some offer to talk, hopefully fairly soon. But that depends on how many rational minds are left up there, in any positions of influence." "If you were, let's say, a cabinet member, or maybe a high-level military type," Carter said, "and you were in a meeting discussing what's going on - after we've started the attack - what would you be telling the president?" "There was a time," said William, "when I would think they would tell him the truth insofar as they knew it. Particularly the military men. Now, they would most likely say whatever they think he wants to hear, even if they know better." "So it will probably take longer for them to come around," Jessica said. "Most likely," said William. "Unfortunately that will cause more people to suffer, but not nearly as many as we do nothing." "Yeah," Carter said. "It looks like we're carrying the load alone. For seven billion people." "In the end," said Theodore, "we can only do as our conscience dictates. Most of those billions probably aren't worth saving. If they were they would do something. It's surprising there are as many of us as there are. This country really is, as Reagan said, the last, best hope. Actually, that hope is us." "He also said if we fail we are looking at a thousand year of darkness," said William. "And I believe he was right. There's no way to see that not happening if this country falls." Carter and Jessica would spend the next two days working with Colonel Schneider's unit, which was more of the sort of combat they had practiced in sessions at other freeholds. The Rangers focused more on advanced hand-to-hand and close-quarters shooting, primarily with lightweight carbines and with some handgun practice. Carter had become quite proficient with his .45, but quickly adapted to the somewhat lighter .40 caliber pistols they favored. The larger magazine capacity would be useful in the situations they were likely to encounter. "The .40 was a good thing to have come along when it did," Michael said. "The venerable .45 was in danger of becoming extinct in the 1980s, which would not have been a good thing. The increasingly popular nine millimeter was becoming the universal standard, but it was not reliable in stopping an attacker. Jeff Cooper, one of the pioneers in handgun combat, developed a good compromise in the ten millimeter. It eventually became the .40 caliber. The bullet it still lighter than the .45 but heavier than the nine, and it's wider and still fast. So you can still get reliable one-shot stops." He took a pair of carbines from a rack and handed one to each of them. "Also in .40 caliber," he said, "and shares magazines with the pistols. And of course a little more velocity. In the kind of operations we're likely to be involved in, these are likely what we'll be using." "We used some of these at Cripple Creek," said Jessica. "Handle real well." "They do that," said Michael. "We'll practice some maneuvers, indoors and out, to get you accustomed to the kind of action we may see in streets and inside buildings." Over the the next two days they went through a variety of such scenarios, including laser tag and paintball battles, giving them, of Jessica anyway, the feeling of shooting to kill a human adversary. Even for Carter, who had carried out a deliberate sniper attack, learned some things about himself in these exercises. The night before they departed, Miyamoto and Schneider joined them as they dined with William and Theodore, and afterwards had a couple of drinks together before retiring. "The way it looks," William said, "is that we will, in a few months, be embarking on the most momentous, for lack of a better word, event since the founding of the nation. It will be, if it succeeds, a rebirth, because of how far we have fallen. Most of us at the Council have said at one time or another that our own government has gone far beyond the provocations of the English overlords. They embarked on a war for far less that what the government has been doing to its citizens for many years. "And if we fail, there will likely be nothing to be reborn. The present rulers will, as some have said, burn down the country just to rule the ashes. We must ensure there is something more than ashes left. Which is why the Council, after much debate - years in fact - arrived at the plan we will be executing. "We hope the death and destruction will can be minimized, and our best hope for that is to so decisively and thoroughly damage the system that somewhere, down the line, reasonable people will be making the decisions. People who, even if they disagree with us, hate us even, will see the ashes that are their future if they do not come to the table. We pray that can be done." He paused for a moment and looked around at the group, then continued. "The one assuagement of our emotions is that when that time comes, we will have already done everything possible to avoid it. By that time matters will have progressed to the point that there will be no need to seek justification. It will be burned into us, as it is now. The killings and imprisonment of dissenters has been going on, on a small scale and in relative quiet. Once the restraints are gone there will be no question." "William and I will be at the epicenter," said Theodore. "Jessica, you father will be part of the command and control team. I understand that you and Darrell intend to be on the ground in the initial attack. And your reasons. I have to ask you, Darrell, are you certain this is the right thing to do? The job will be done with or without you." Carter was silent, looking over to meet Jessica's eyes. She betrayed no emotion, but he knew it was there and what it was. He looked at Miyamoto and Michael, and back to Theodore and William. "No," he said. "I'm not sure. In fact I'm sure it's not. If even a small part of the operation is tainted by emotion, that's an unnecessary risk and not a good thing. I'd come to regard McCormick as the ultimate in evil, and maybe he is - at least to the same level as the worst of them - he just hasn't been at it as long. I won't jeopardize the mission." There's plenty for you to do regardless," said William. "The added training you received here is likely to be crucial to our success at some point. Miyamoto and Michael represent two very different ways of doing things - but both will be vital to our success. As you probably suspect, they'll be in the first strike. And what that is, we don't know. We have some ideas and have analyzed various strategies, but we're still refining the final plans. "It's been said by military men that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. In this case, the battle plan likely won't exist until it's executed. "Tomorrow you'll be going home. I hope we've enhanced your survival chances, and if we don't see you again before then, we'll hope for a reunion at a later date and do everything to still be alive, except surrender." |
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Chapter 41 -- ARUUTJCTVFIYEX
Their coffee cups empty, Carter and Jessica sat for a while in the kitchen. The sun was well up, the October day was cloudless. The expanse of bermuda lawn around the houses would soon turn brown, signalling the approaching winter. This winter was likely to be different for them at least. The upcoming election, with its outcome almost certain, was expected to be the last one before the war. "Ready?" she asked. They were going over to Donald's house for an operations meeting, a regular occurrence these days. "Ready," he replied, picking up their cups and taking them to the sink. At the door he paused, turned, and put his arms around her. It was something they seemed not to find much time for recently. The future that loomed before them, no matter how well it ended, was likely to change them permanently. Indeed, it already had. They stood like that, her head on his shoulder, not wanting to look into each other's eyes just now. Finally they let go and turned to go. The League had solidified its battle plans for the most likely scenarios, and was preparing for the positioning of assets in the most crucial area - the nation's capitol. In addition, areas around the country where strikes would be executed, if necessary, to encourage a recalcitrant enemy to behave, were being surveyed and targets selected. The sort of campaign envisioned would be too fantastic to believe, if it were exposed, yet all the pieces necessary were already available and ready for deployment. Carter and Jessica, along with Tommy and James, helped Donald with the logistics planning. Donald had a large map, about four by five feet, on a wall of the office. Several smaller, but still large maps showed the Capitol and parts of the district. The large map showed the locations of the freeholds, albeit camouflaged as ordinary locations. Only a person with detailed knowledge of an area would spot them, and would likely regard them as errors. These maps, particularly the largest, would be useful for planning movements of personnel and materiel. A smaller map, but still the size of a large poster, lay on a table. Marks with various colors of ink identified the locations of affiliated organizations - not part of the league but in contact and in varying degrees, involved in operations to occur during the coming insurrection. And that is what it would be, and the Council did not mince words. As the nation's founders had known that they were, in the eyes of the British Empire, committing treason, so they would technically be committing treason. The fact that the government was no longer constitutionally legitimate would not matter. If they failed they would pay a high price. "What we have here," Donald said as they looked at the large map, "is something beyond anything likely to be conceivable in the minds of our enemies. Over two hundred geographically dispersed bases, most of them both well camouflaged and remote from population centers. Close to eighteen thousand personnel. "Over a hundred connections to various dissident organizations, all of them of a militant nature - we have no use for socio-political activity, it's too late for that - almost all of them in agreement to wait for a signal before acting. A few dozen more are not so controlled but can likely be used when we provide them with targets and the means to strike. "All of the outside resources are of course not guaranteed to be reliable. Some of them may act on their own, too soon, and be eliminated. Others may get cold feet. But we expect many of them will perform. "The unpredictable part is the reaction. Considering the kind of people we are dealing with, expecting a quick resolution is not realistic. Until the worst of them are neutralized - either by us or their own kind, assuming that at some point cooler heads prevail - a settlement will not occur. And the only one we will accept is a restoration of constitutional rule. So at this point the only thing we know is that there will be a war. Unless some miracle happens after November." They all knew there would be no miracle. The sort of people - most of them sociopaths - would be unable to conceptualize being defeated. Most of them would fight to the bitter end, but they relied on others to do their fighting. Only when the troops had had enough and refused to follow orders or deserted, could they be dealt with. "Where do we fit in?" asked Jessica "Since we're not going after the target we planned on, we don't have a mission." Carter had decided not to pursue his vendetta against the man who had put him in prison, leaving him to whatever fate he was destined for. So there was no need for him to be in the Capitol for the initial strike. "You still want to be there?" asked Donald. "I'd like to," Carter said without looking at Jessica. He was fairly certain she didn't want him to go, and it was no longer necessary. "But only if there's something useful for me to do." "We'll be shipping some weapons and supplies out of here," Donald said. Or people. If this deteriorates into a guerilla war and goes on for a while, being able to get our people out of the action when they're compromised will include having places to hide them. Or for that matter, prisoners." "Prisoners?" asked Tommy. "Here?" "Conceivably," replied Donald. "Or to other freeholds. we'd prefer not to, given our limited personnel. I suspect if we did we'd need to add some staff. Which we may do anyway, or be providing temporary accommodations for our own people. If this thing drags out, we can expect anything." "We could hide people in the grain bins," said Jessica. "Just about the last pace anyone would look, and impossible to escape from. Not very comfortable, but not exactly inhumane." "One of the things we have to consider," said Donald, "is that some of our people may be captured. Holding some prisoners could help there, if they're important enough." "What happens if this place is compromised?" asked Jessica. "If that should happen," said Donald, "we would be relocated. Whether together or not depends on the circumstances." "I was thinking of Dalton and Mary," she said. "And grandfather." "They'll be taken care of at the start," Donald said. "They are aware, in a general way, of the plan. They know that when the time comes they will be taken to a safe place, a place where they can live their remaining years in safety and comfort, with a trust fund for insurance. As for Dad, he's considering something similar. His health has been declining, as you've no doubt noticed. As much as he would like to be there at the end, it may not be possible. As with Dalton and Mary, he'll be safe out of harm's way. I'm hoping it won't be a long affair, and one day we can tell him about it, until he ends is days in the freedom he worked for." Donald had brought a small box, which now sat on the table in front of him. He took a handful of items from it and dropped them on the table before them. "Always carry one of these and have several more readily available," he said. Carter looked at one. It was a small enamel shield, about an inch high and a little over half as wide, divided into four sections. The upper left section contained a large gold "M", with a large gold "C" in the lower right. The upper right contained an image of an oak tree, with a torch in the lower left. "This design has no special significance" Donald said. "It's simply a design one of us came up with when we were looking for a unique identifying symbol that was unlikely to be already in circulation. Alan Clarey of Sunset Valley designed it, said the initials aren't his, they represent Michael Collins, revered as the founder of the Irish Free State, liberating it from British rule. Our model of insurrection is based somewhat on his, albeit on a much larger scale." "Yeah, Jessica enlightened me," said Carter. "He must have had nerves of steel." "As we must," Donald said. "Had Collins failed, he would have faced the hangman, as Benjamin Franklin warned his fellow patriots, should they fail. They didn't fail and neither shall we." |
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| When you come out of the storm, you | ||
| won't be the same person that walked | ||
| in. That's what the storm is all about. | ||
| Haruki Murakami | ||
| I answered that the die was now cast; I had | ||
| passed the Rubicon. Swim or sink, live or | ||
| die, survive or perish with my country was | ||
| my unalterable determination. | ||
| John Adams | ||
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Chapter 42 -- LIFLUOHRJHJC
Grant Page's phone buzzed. Luther's name was on the screen, and he swiped the answer button. "Grant here." "Hello, Grant. This is Luther. Would it be possible to have a meeting soon?" "Sure," Grant replied. "We're all here just now, when's a good time?" "As soon as possible. Can we meet over here?" "Just a second," said Grant. "Let me check." Bill and Arthur were with him. He called Gerald and Douglas to confirm their availability. "OK, it looks good," Grant said. "Half hour do it?" "That's fine," Luther replied. "We'll see you shortly." They had had occasional conversations over the past few months, mostly about the continuing deterioration of the situation. Already new firearms laws were making their way through Congress, largely unchallenged. The minority party had never been willing to fight without superior numbers, and had not had those in years. The process of confiscation was merely awaiting final approval, and only then could anyone know how it would go. The 'education reform' law was now on the books, and by the beginning of the next school year all children under the age of eighteen would be required to attend an approved school. Private schools were for the present allowed, but would require a license. Thus shutting them down would be simply a matter of paperwork. It was the latter, Grant and his fellows suspected, that Luther wanted to discuss. They themselves had not yet decided on a course of action for their own children, and the coming end of the current school term would signal a time for decision. The government would likely begin the process of rounding up the home-schooled children for registration well before the beginning of the next. It was certainly the most pressing, Grant thought. They got up and went out to where their vehicles were parked, awaiting the arrival of their comrades. Once they had arrived, they got into two of the trucks and drove over to Luther's community. Luther and all of the elders were there, and they sat down to talk. "You've probably guessed what we wish to discuss," Luther said. "as you will be dealing with the same matter, presumably." "The schools," said Grant. "Yes, we seem to be up against it, or soon will be." "Have you reached a decision?" Luther asked. "No, we haven't," Grant replied. "But we'll have to soon. I'm guessing you're not planning to turn your children over to the state." "No, we aren't," said Luther. "As I said before, if we resist they kill us or put us in prison and take our children anyway. If we don't we will watch them take them." "The only other option," said Bill, "for those who can afford it, is to put them in private schools. And most people can't afford it, and it would be a brief respite, if any at all. The approved schools will sooner or later have to do the same indoctrination as the government schools." "We don't see a way out," said Luther. "Perhaps we could hide our children, for a time, but even giving over to a life like hunted animals they must eventually find us." "Probably hiding them, unless you give in, is the last resort," Arthur said. "We don't know, of course, what form the enforcement will take. They have records of all, or most, home-schooled children because they have to be registered. They'll go to their homes and check on them. Out here in the wilderness we may not be found for a while, but eventually..." "So we hide, for as long as we can," said Luther. "And then whatever happens, happens. Perhaps it is the end. We pray to know what the right action is, but perhaps it is to just wait for the end. Probably every generation for the past two millenia has thought it was living in the last days. Perhaps we are that one." "Perhaps," Arthur said. "And perhaps not. There are still weeks, maybe months of continued development of these things, and each day we learn more about what we are up against. For all the good it does us." "The other thing," said Gerald, "which might actually come earlier, we don't know, is the gun seizures. It's almost certain it will happen, but we don't know at what point they'll actually start coming to doors to take them." "Yes," said Luther. "And again, it's either surrender or die, or worse. We've already had reports of arrests, sometimes of large groups of people, and they don't seem to be heard from again. And they were just taking part in protests and demonstrations." "Well, we know they've been arresting people and holding them without bail for such offenses, going back close to twenty years now," Arthur said. "There were fewer of them, so it wasn't so noticeable as now. Sometimes hundreds have been taken away, to who knows where. Of course there are plenty of places to hold them, the government has so many unused facilities just waiting for use. It's likely many, perhaps most of them will never be seen again. We do seem to be at the edge, with no way to go back." "What will you do?" asked Luther. "At the end? Fight. Take as many of them with us as we can. That may not be your philosophy, but whoever comes after us is already condemned, whether or not he claims to like what he is doing. They can always refuse." "That's a decision no one should have to make," said Luther. "Still, even if we run and hide, if they are determined to hunt us down, then at some point we will have to make it." "At lease we'll have a choice," Arthur said. "For centuries, indeed millenia, people have not had that choice. When the Assyrians, Greeks, Romans, the Muslims and the Mongols overran their lands, they were usually just killed or sent into slavery without having a chance to fight. People had a chance to resist the Nazis and failed, and after them the Russians and Chinese enslaved their people, again without much chance of resistance. But I believe I'll stick with sending a few of them on ahead of me when I go." "Make a last stand at your camp?" asked Luther. "Possibly," said Arthur. "Or we may have the opportunity to do some mischief before they get to us." "How is that?" asked Luther. "Something we've become aware of in recent months." said Arthur. "We still don't know much, but there have been rumors of an organized resistance, one that has been in the works for some time. We began to get hints, as I say, a few months ago but haven't been able to confirm anything. But recently we were contacted by a rather interesting person, rather mysterious but we're grasping at straws here, so we've humored him. "Essentially what he has told us is that very soon - he didn't say how soon - things will begin to happen. Things that we will recognize as signs of their work. He says that at that point, we may be contacted and given an opportunity to join the battle. Beyond that, not much. But he did seem both serious and sane. So we're passing that along, for what it's worth. "Who knows?" said Luther. "It certainly seems to be out of our hands now." "Perhaps," said Arthur. He took something out of his left front shirt pocket and handed it to Luther. Luther examined it - a small piece of metal shaped like a shield, with the letters "M" and "C" in the upper left and lower right of the four sections into which it was divided. An oak tree and a torch occupied the other two sections. "He gave us each one of these, with several others to be closely guarded and only shown or given to trusted allies" said Arthur. "It seems they might be used as a signal, a pass, or something similar in the future." "Thank you" said Luther. "I hope it does signify something, that there is hope. We live now, day by day, and can assume nothing." "Indeed" said Arthur. "Is there anything you need, in the way of weapons or gear, if it comes to that?" Luther looked around at the elders briefly. "No," he said. "Not at this time. We'll see what happens." |
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Chapter 43 -- OSPGZSNCSAFBVGWAVQXD
Carter and Jessica watched the television news, or for what passed for news in these times. A year ago there had still been a couple of satellite news outlets that, while for the most part lost in a sea of propaganda, still tried to provide some useful information. But before long the carriers succumbed to the pressure and dropped them. The Internet had continued to provide some means of communication for dissenters, although that was visibly eroding. And with no television or print any hope of the general public being informed was gone. Even the radio talk shows, which had even in their heyday had been pushing at open doors, was being curtailed. The last lights, whatever good they may have once done, were about to go out. The news did provide some information, however. The attacks on the non- compliant citizenry was no longer hidden, at last not all of it. With effectively complete control of the message, events were depicted as legitimate law enforcement against insurrectionists. The news segment now in progress was more of that. The usual banner at the bottom of the screen was this time proclaiming that 'DOMESTIC TERRORISM' was the subject. The scene was a common one - shot from behind and over the tops of various vehicles, some of them in the livery of the Illinois State Police, others unmarked but uniformly dark greens and greys, In the area beyond, a number of houses and outbuildings could be seen, some apparently burning, men in dark combat dress moving about. The smoke from the burning buildings was being blown about, occasionally obscuring what could be seen. The cameras would be kept at a considerable distance. The requisite smoke and flames, vehicles and personnel milling about, was little more than a background for the narrative. Said narrative being delivered by the usual suspects - a young blonde woman at a desk filled the screen now, with her name and title. "Shelby Mitchell," Carter said. "Don't get a lot of Shelbys." "Who's the correspondent, or whatever?" he asked. He had been out of the room when the segment began. "Hasn't showed yet," Jessica replied. "Let's listen and see what they've got for us." Although the joked about the antics of the television news actors, the humor had always been overlaid with the unavoidable foreboding. The naivete of the actors was rather depressing - most of them, Carter thought, were as ignorant as the audience to which they were dispensing their propaganda. Many, if not most of them, probably believed they were reporting facts. The picture went to a split screen, and another young woman appeared. She was a blonde too, albeit a dirty blonde as they were called. Of course, her hair might well be natural while the anchor's was likely colored. ...that's correct, Shelby." she was saying. Her name was Michelle. "The task force arrived about an hour ago, with search warrants for several of the houses here. It is believed that most or all of them are occupied by people who are either related to one another or involved in other relationships. They had created what is effectively a fenced compound here, with entry controlled at two gates here on the highway. "People familiar with this area say the two gates, about a hundred yards apart along the highway here, were normally closed, with the occupants using a remote opener, like a garage door opener, when they entered or left." "Do you know if there had been unusual activity there recently?" asked Shelby. Of course there was. The question would have been on the teleprompter. And Michelle would have the correct answer. "Yes, Shelby, there was," Michelle replied, making sure to use her name. Name recognition was important to careers. "It appears that for the past month or so there has been an increase in traffic in and out, with some trucks, not usually seen, apparently making deliveries and leaving." "Are any of those trucks there now, Michelle?" asked Shelby. "I can't see any from here, Shelby," Michelle replied. "But it's a large area, I believe the compound was described as covering about twenty acres or so. Much of it is wooded, so we don't yet know what might be out of sight." "Do we know what the search warrants were for, Michelle?" Shelby asked. "We don't have any specifics at this point, Shelby. We're waiting to hear from a contact with law enforcement now. We have information from, at this point, unnamed sources that some sort of terrorist plot may have been in progress. The heavily armed force that was sent suggests that they expected resistance, and apparently they were correct." "Do you know if there was any inside information, perhaps from informants?" "We don't, Shelby. But of course the authorities do try to get inside these types of organizations, to find out what they're up to. We don't know if they had anyone on the inside here." Carter suspected they did. An inside agent who could infiltrate a group with no unlawful intentions and convince them to if nothing else discuss doing illegal activity, enough to get recordings that could be used as evidence of a 'conspiracy'. Once that was established, the search warrants were pretty much rubber-stamped, and the operation was underway. Michelle's box on the screen vanished, to be replaced by the full screen shot of Shelby at the news desk. "Next up," she was saying, "we have Dr. Lockhart, professor of political sociology at University of Minneapolis. Thank you for joining us, Dr. Lockhart. You've been following these events in Illinois, and while it's still early and more information is probably forthcoming, are you able to form any ideas about this and similar recent events?" Dr. Lockhart was the generic television guest. Probably unheard of outside his academic clique, he was now able to expound to perhaps a million or more people. Not much out of close to four hundred million, Carter reflected, but for these sorts of people anything more, even a little, was to be eagerly sought. "Here comes the white supremacist anti-government stuff," said Carter. "Well, Shelby," Lockhart began in is best professorial manner, "while we don't have have much in the way of details on this incident, we see some similarities to other incidents of this type. Unfortunately, incidents of domestic terror have been on the rise in recent months." "OK, OK," Carter said, "get with the white supremacists already." "With anti-government activity increasing," Shelby said, "do you see any common factors in their motivation, goals, etc?" "Well," Lockhart said again, "anti-government sentiment is often rooted in extreme emotional reactions to events. Certainly, white supremacist sentiment plays a large part in it. And that, in the minds of many of these people, is directed at the government because it is perceived as being the author of what they believe are injustices. "This actually goes back to the Civil War, when the freeing of African- American slaves, making them citizens and giving them the right to vote - all of that caused fear and anger among a large part of the white population. Thus we had the KKK, lynchings. and so on. And the more civil rights advanced through the later twentieth century, the more angry some of these people became. And without a solution to that, we continue to have these types of organizations and their activities." "What would a solution look like?" asked Shelby. "Well, it's not a pleasant thing to deal with. And since it doesn't seem to be disappearing on its own, it will most likely take a concerted effort by the government to identify the sources and deal with them. An intense campaign of finding the offenders and applying whatever remedies are appropriate could certainly minimize their effects on society." "Will the coming consolidation of education under federal regulation help solve this?" Shelby asked. "Certainly, education can help" Lockhart said. "A standardized education could probably solve numerous problems. Eliminating home schooling, which is being done, can eliminate some of the subversive elements. Home schooling has always tended to coincide with disruptive and antisocial attitudes. And the private schools - the ones that continue to exist - will be monitored for signs of inappropriate teaching." Suddenly Lockhart's half of the screen was replaced by a full screen of the ongoing raid, the anchor's voice continuing. "I'm sorry, Dr. Lockhart. We have breaking news," she said. "For that we go to back to Michelle. Michelle?" Michelle's picture appeared in the upper left corner, narrating as the action continued. "Thank you, Shelby," she said. "We have just had some new developments here. You may be able to hear in the background, it sounds like gunfire and perhaps explosions of some type." The camera operator seemed to have gotten a better vantage point, looking over the vehicles that had obstructed the view earlier. They could see people in combat gear running about in an area between the houses and a wooded area behind them. Frequent bursts of fire, some apparently from semi-auto guns and others of burst fire, probably from military rifles used by the attackers. Occasionally a louder sound indicated grenades were being used. Michelle continued talking over the action. "It appeared that the operation was winding down," she said. "We could see what appeared to be persons in handcuffs being taken to the law enforcement vehicles, and the shooting had stopped some time earlier. Then it suddenly began again, and has been going on sporadically for the past ten minutes or so. We're trying to get someone from the task force to speak with us, but they're still pretty busy...let's watch for a few minutes." "I wonder if something didn't go as planned," said Jessica. "What I was thinking," Carter replied. "If it had, they'd be loading the body bags and giving interviews." The action continued for another fifteen minutes or so, with the anchor and reporter occasionally interjecting an observation or question. The action around the vehicles seemed frenetic, personnel running to and fro and moving vehicles. There had only been a handful of vehicles inside the fence, now several more were moving in, with some of the combatants taking cover. It looked as if they were taking fire from the wooded area. "They're going to need more that what they have," said Carter. "I'd have thought they would bring some Humvees." "Bet they will next time," Jessica said. "I would guess this is the first time they've encountered resistance, if that's what is happening." "Won't do any good out in those woods though," said Carter. "The trees are too thick to drive through." It appeared that the camera was getting the closest view it could. The could occasionally see people moving around at the edge of the trees. The gunfire had stopped, and it looked as if some sort of stalemate existed. The reporter came back. "Shelby, it looks like the shooting has stopped," she sai,d "and neither side is making any moves. We do have someone here now that may be able to tell us what is happening." A man in a camouflage uniform partly covered with body armor and various items of equipment. "This is Captain Richard Stewart of the National Guard. Captain, what can you tell us?" "We're dealing with a barricade situation, possibly with hostages but we don't know at this point. We accompanied the law enforcement task force here to execute search warrants. The occupants refused to open the gates and retreated to the houses, and when we breached the gates we came under fire. We got those vehicles inside the fence and tried to start clearing the houses. "We took several casualties doing that, but arrested the occupants. When we sent personnel to check the woods out there, they came under fire. At this point we're waiting for reinforcements." "Were any of the casualties seriously wounded?" Michelle asked. "I can't give you a definite figure at this time," the captain replied. "Was anyone killed," she asked bluntly, but the captain apparently anticipating the direction of the conversation, suddenly keyed his mike and spoke to someone, turning to run back to the staging area. "Apparently Captain Stewart had do deal with an emergency," Michelle said. "We did see two ambulances come and depart, and a third has just arrived. Since they are awaiting more assistance, we may be waiting for a while." "Any word on arrests?" Shelby asked. "Nothing official," Michelle replied. "From here I could see what looked like people being escorted to police vehicles, apparently under restraint. I'm not sure if any of those have left. It looks like we'll have to wait a while for more information." "OK, thank you, Michelle," said Shelby. "We'll continue to monitor the situation and bring you back when there are further developments." An opportune commercial break arrived. Carter and Jessica sat for a few moments, pondering the news. "They've got deaders," Carter said. "At least one. That's why the captain heard someone calling. I wouldn't be surprised if there are some more out behind the houses, where they were being fired on from the trees." "It looked that way to me too," Jessica said. "That's the first time they've met resistance. What is it, at least a half dozen of these affairs since the election, almost like throwing a switch." "As we expected," said Carter. "But now that there's been resistance, we're almost certain to see new tactics." "Yeah, I wonder what kind." "Well, they're not going to stop. With the gun grab that can't be far away, they want to put as much fear into people as they can." Jessica had her phone out, tapped a contact. "Dad. Guess you're watching." A pause. "Yeah, pretty much what we were thinking. No telling how long it'll be before it's over. They're going for reinforcements." Then after another pause "Yeah, probably. We'll finish watching here and come over in the morning... right, good night." |
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Chapter 44 -- WHKVSCCZYZYPMPIFG
After breakfast the next day they gathered in Donald's office. All had watched the previous day's events until the end, which ended with the task force departing, leaving a handful of personnel behind to complete the work. What they did not learn was how it ended. The last television broadcast ended with the reporter at the scene saying it was over and details would be available later. More information came through unofficial channels. The league had its own communications network, and by that morning one of Donald's colleagues had provided an update. The endpoint they used was in a small rented office in Chillicothe, ostensibly occupied by a lawyer who only worked part-time. A small law firm, properly licensed and otherwise legitimate, rented the office and Donald used it occasionally for communications he didn't want traced to the farm. He had gotten up early and driven over to access the computer and retrieve the data he wanted. "You'll find this interesting," he said. "For the time being this is being covered up - not difficult considering the situation. But we had access to witnesses. So here goes. "The task force, state police backed by National Guard forces, about fifty altogether, about half and half. They went to the place, a small commune of what were variously described by locals as preppers or militia members. About a dozen houses, several other buildings, on the front of a partially cleared area. How they were targeted we don't yet know - in the other cases we've seen there was some provocation - members attending political events, writing to officials or politicians in unfriendly terms, the usual. Nothing for which they would have been charged with a crime. "Which is the pattern here. They're not even bothering to try to entrap them by infiltrating an agent provocateur. Just choosing a target that few will have any sympathy for and attacking it. And so far it has worked. This time was different. "They attacked and cleared the houses, arresting several - no official numbers yet but probably a half dozen. By the time the houses were cleared, - taking several casualties in the process - a large number of people who had exited unseen from the back side of the houses had taken cover in the wooded area behind the houses. "As the LE types approached the woods, those in the woods opened up on them, felling a dozen or so and retreating from the return fire. They exchanged fire for a while, and the attackers, exposed and unable to see the defenders, retreated and called for reinforcements. They apparently left their casualties on the field, and it was about a half hour before a Humvee arrived and was able to cover the casualties. Word is there were at least two dead, some others that may or may not make it. "And finally, once two more Humvees with a contingent of troops had arrived, they set out to clear the woods. Big mistake - the light was bad in the woods, and they hit a booby trap, killed one and wounded a couple more. They sealed off the area and waited for sunrise. Apparently whoever was in there had departed. They're searching the area now. "For now, that's about it. I'll go over for another report in a couple of hours." "How does that affect the timetable?" asked Jessica. "Alone, it wouldn't," Donald replied. He pressed some buttons on a remote, and a large screen on the wall came to life. "But... "While we were otherwise occupied," he said, "this was happening." The scene they were watching showed what looked like another raid, only less violent. Two buses, like school buses but painted the almost-black grey of some military vehicles, were parked on a city street somewhere. Several police cars were also present. As they watched, a procession - men, women and children of various ages - was filing out of a door and boarding the buses. They were not restrained but were being herded by men in dark uniforms, not camouflage or even solid green, but a dark grey. When they all were boarded the buses were driven away, escorted by the police cars. "That's another way they have of dealing with dissenters," Donald said. "The people there are members of an obscure religious community, the Order of Malachi, just a small church commune, apparently minding their own business for the past several years, no complaints from neighbors, just a harmless cult. A few weeks ago the local media reported they were under suspicion of child abuse and other possible offenses. Yesterday, while we were otherwise occupied, the state child protective services, whatever they call it there, came in with state police and federal agencies for backup." "Where are they going?" asked Jessica. "Or do we know?" "In this case no," said Donald. "There are many places they can use, the many old inactive military installations, the FEMA camps that supposedly don't exist, denied not by the government but by the captive press. A couple of Council members, ex-military, have seen them. There are some large facilities with heavy-duty inward-facing security, so even back ten, fifteen years they were being built. "In any case, they probably aren't out anywhere they can be seen by the public, not yet anyway. Until the numbers grow much larger they can be contained in existing facilities. As to these unfortunate people, they're probably just being used as an example, to get peopled accustomed to seeing mass arrests and not doing anything." "What does that portend for us?" Jessica asked. "It means the day is near," Donald replied. "I expect a tentative date to be set at the next Council meeting, in two weeks. Of course, that's the date to begin staging, the first operations could be another month or more away. In any case, it looks like there is no going back. They're determined on their course, and we no longer have a choice." Carter looked around the table. This, apparently, was it. For two years he had prepareing by learning survival skills and practicing working with his comrades, but how prepared was he mentally? He reflected that he had at least already fired a shot, even though the war was not yet underway. He saw Jessica looking back at him with a look that didn't quite hide her concern. She was not close enough to touch his hand, or she would have. "At whatever point we begin staging, I'll have Mary and Dalton go to their safe place. They're prepared, and know what is happening. Essentially, they're retiring early. They'd rather stay, but it's too dangerous. I hope we are able to avoid being compromised, but if it goes on for very long every freehold is in danger of being exposed." "What about Grandfather?" Jessica asked. "He's in agreement about the need," Donald replied. "They won't be far away, at a small place near Spring Hill. Just far enough away not to be connected to this place. And with Mary and Dalton near he'll be comfortable and safe. I've arranged for a couple of men to provide constant surveillance, and they'll know if anyone comes nosing around." "When are they leaving?" Jessica asked. "Within the next month. We want them well away and settled in before things start happening. For now, we'll have daily meetings and stay informed about events, and I'll probably be in at the office in town at least once a day, for anything that's too hot to handle here." They watched the news channels for a while, while streaming a patriot internet channel on another large screen. It proved more useful, giving updates on the previous night's raid and arrests of the religious group the day before that. Donald turned the sound down on the television and increased the volume on the computer. The coverage of the raid was about over. It seemed that the search of the woods that morning revealed several more booby traps, but their quarry had fled. No more news on who or where or how many there were, at least from the official channels. There was a young woman at the news desk on EEONTV when they joined. "..so it appears that the operation is over," she was saying. "It looks like the last vehicles have departed - those remaining apparently belonged to the residents. The gates are now closed and secured with chains and locks, and we can see that some type of signs have been posted. Gregg Markham is on the scene. Are you there, Gregg?" The picture changed to one showing a young man standing if front of the place, his back to it, a short distance away. Some smoke was still rising from the houses, all of which appeared to have been burned. "I'm here, Sandra," said Gregg. "They attackers have been gone for about an hour, and most of the people living nearby that were watching - there weren't very many - have also left. As you can see, all of the houses have been burned. That was the last thing they did before leaving. Apparently they don't feel the need for investigating." "How did the operation end?" asked Sandra. "Apparently there were a number of casualties." "Right, Sandra. We had some rumors while it was going on that possibly two of them were killed in the house-clearing, possibly more. And afterward, when they approached the wooded area back there, they were fired on again and retreated to wait for reinforcements. I was told by a couple of sources that they had at least one killed at that time. We don't have anything definite, and we'll have to wait and see what the official reports are." "Apparently they were surprised by the resistance," said Sandra. "Were there any indications beforehand that there might be violence?" "Apparently not," replied Gregg. "They were actually rather casual as they entered the area and began going to clear the houses. Apparently they had gone through a couple when the shooting began. They were more aggressive after that, firing grenades, certainly smoke, maybe gas, through the windows before going in. We could hear explosions, possibly they were using flash-bangs." "Any word on arrests?" "Nothing official," Gregg replied. "We could see some people being put into cars and taken away. We don't know how many." "How did it go this morning?" Sandra asked. "They returned with a much larger force. There were four Humvees and what looked like a couple of SWAT vans. There were probably thirty, maybe more personnel. They spent about three hours clearing the area, and apparently found no one. It appears they found more booby traps - I heard four explosions, apparently they detonated them. There didn't seem to be any panic from what I could see." "So there were no more arrests?" asked Sandra. "No, as far as I could see there was no one there. Last night I found a road around the back, and the area behind the trees is open. They would have been long gone, and probably were." "Thanks Gregg," Sandra said. "And next, we look at that mass arrest yesterday." |
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Chapter 45 -- LTRXCQZMOTZSA
"Hello, Luther," Grant said as he answered the call. "How are you?" "Not so well, I'm afraid. At least, some bad things are happening. I suppose you saw the news." "Yeah, we saw it," Grant replied. "It's not surprising, except for the resistance." "Can we meet?" Luther asked. "Sure. You want us to come over?" "If you can. It's rather important." "OK," said Grant. "Bill and I are here, and I believe Arthur is. I'm not sure about the others. Give us about ten, fifteen minutes?" "That will be fine," Luther said. "See you shortly." Grant called Arthur and the three of them went over to Luther's home. He had three of the elders with him. "The others will be here in a while," Luther said. "We can get started - they are apprised of events already. Do you know anything about the place that was attacked?" "No," Grant replied. "Just what was on the news, for what it's worth. And they don't seem to have much interest now that it's over." "That seems to the usual procedure now," Luther said. "Once it's over there is no further coverage, no investigation. Since a number of the residents escaped, whether they continue to cover it remains to be seen." "It seems that they would," said Grant, "but everything is different now. Do you know anything outside of the news?" "Regrettably, I do" Luther replied. "My late wife's nephew was there. He was one of those who escaped into the woods, with about twenty or so others, I'm not sure how many. They had some sort of booby traps, to slow down pursuit. Apparently it worked, but now they're in hiding. He called this morning - he and one of the others are in Hickory Ridge, about fifty, maybe sixty miles away, I'm not sure." "I know where it is," said Bill. "It's about that far. How did he get there? It's over a hundred miles to Camden." "Once they got away from the place they were able to make calls to people they knew to come out and get them. They figured the police, whoever, would be back the next day to continue the search. Eventually most or all of them got someone to come and pick them up. Wesley and one of them, he said his name was Jack, were able to get hold of one of Jack's friends. He drove out there, picked them up and drove them to Hickory Ridge. He apparently owed Jack, sufficiently that he went to get them but didn't want any further involvement. "They didn't dare go to one of the motels there, even in small towns they have to show ID, so they're hiding in a cornfield outside of town. There's nothing to do but go get them and bring them here, so a couple of us are about to leave for there." "Do you or someone here know the area?" asked Bill. "Will you need any help finding them?" "I've been calling some of our members, I haven't found one yet. It should be easy enough to get there, and have them give us directions when we get close." "We're pretty familiar with the area," said Bill. "Why don't we go over and get them? We can give you a number for a burner phone they can use." "I don't like the idea of you putting yourselves at risk," Luther said. "But it probably isn't something I should be attempting at my age. I was about to see if one of the younger men, perhaps Ted, maybe Scott..." "It's no trouble," said Grant. "Our trucks are inconspicuous in this environment, and stopping at a corn field won't arouse any suspicion. Why don't you contact them, we can be on the way as soon as you let them know we're coming." "I really appreciate it," Luther said. "Not a problem," said Bill. "We have a certain amount of experience that may be useful here." Within a few minutes Luther had contacted the men and advised them help was on the way, and Grant and Bill left. Stopping to collect Bill's truck they headed for Hickory Ridge. They were there in just about an hour, and stopped in a parking lot at a small shopping center. Grant called to confirm their location and departed, Bill following. Driving along the main road out of town, Grant and Bill looked at the cornfields on both sides of the road. Before long Grant spotted two men standing at the edge, not quite concealed by the tall stalks. They had given Luther the descriptions of their trucks, and as they slowed to a stop on the roadside the two men ran over, one of them getting into Grant's truck and the other into Bill's. They quickly accelerated away, driving down the road a mile or so before stopping again. Grant got out and went back to talk to Bill. "We'd best not go back through town," he said. "We can turn onto 49 about a mile or so ahead, and there's not much between there and Morrilton. In case they've been tracked this far." "Good idea," Bill said. "We'll need to keep an eye out for tails." The route was a little longer, so it was over another hour before they were back. They delivered the two fugitives to Luther's house and went in with them. Grant called Arthur to update and then they talked with Luther and the men they had rescued. Wesley, Luther's inlaw was relatively young considering Luther's age - he was in his seventies and if his wife was close in age, her brother was considerably younger, looking to be in his late forties or early fifties. The other man, named Tyler, seemed to be in his thirties. He gave them a concise narrative of the previous day's events. It seemed the community where they lived was similar to Luther's, perhaps a little more inclined to the militant side. They were well armed, but with for the most part common and, in the past at least, uncontroversial weapons. Most households had one or were well armed, but with for the most part common and, in the past at least, uncontroversial weapons. Most households had one or two of the ubiquitous AR-15 type rifles and a supply of magazines and ammunition. The remainder of the armament was conventional rifles and shotguns, with the usual assortment of handguns. Wesley knew of no reason they would have been singled out. They had little contact with the locals, either rural neighbors or the people in town. They home-schooled their children, and all of those who attended church did so on a church in one of the homes in the community. "You had some sort of improvised, I guess, booby traps in the woods," said Bill. "Would your obtaining the explosives been noticed by anyone?" "Only the dynamite," Wesley said. "And we'd had that for quite a while. We got ours from a farmer who had used some of it for blasting stumps, and that was a couple of years ago." "Any large ammunition purchases?" asked Grant. "No, not really. Each person bought their own, as they had the money. And it would have been bought at different places, there's actually only one gun shop in town, and Wal-Mart. With the short supplies in recent years, people were getting it at a lot of different places, and usually in small quantities." "It's hard to say why," Grant said. "There have been a lot of these raids in the past few months. Some people think the government is beginning to eliminate any kind of potential resistance to upcoming policies." "Like gun confiscation?" asked Tyler. "Eventually," said Grant. "The laws they'll be using haven't passed yet, so they'll probably wait for that. And they may get as many as they can from the people who voluntarily comply, before they start to use force. The home- school laws are already in effect, so when school starts in the fall we'll see what happens. Since a lot of the home-school community is also religiously based, they're a special target. It's the whole reason - to prevent escape from the indoctrination of the schools, and to suppress religious education. Your community would be targeted on both counts." "Whatever your plans are," Bill said, "you need to be careful. They're going to be looking for anyone who escaped. I don't know how long it will take for them to find you who and how many you are, but they will. With any luck it will take long enough that no one will know you're here. The weakest link is probably whoever took you to Hickory Ridge. How reliable is he?" "He's OK," Jack said. "He owed me a favor, and was decent enough to help when I needed it, but if they get to him he'll do what he has to to save himself. Not that I'd blame him. But he can't tell them anything except where he took us." "Yeah, as long as there's no way to trace you here you should be all right," said Bill. "But if they're really determined, they'll fan out around the area looking for places like this. So you're still likely to be a target." "We accepted the risk when we took you in," said Luther. "It was our choice. We will just have to wait and see what comes." "The most important thing," said Grant, "is for you guys to stay hidden here. Don't go to town. And get rid of your phones immediately. Are they burners?" "Burners?" Luther asked "If you want to avoid being tracked, credit and debit cards and phones make you easy to find. You can cut the risk by using prepaid debit cards and phones, and change the phones often. You should get rid yours immediately - do both of you have them?" Both affirmed that they did. "Turn them off immediately," said Grant. "And get rid of them. If you're not used to doing it, we can get you some new ones, buy them in Lewisburg or one of the larger cities and some distance away. I know phones cost money and you don't like to throw them away, just get the cheap ones." "Come to think of it," said Bill "give me you phones. Are they prepaid?" "Yeah," Wesley said. "Here you go." Bill took the phones. "We're going over to Lewisburg this afternoon. We'll take them with us, make a couple of calls, so they'll be tracked to over there. We'll bring back the new ones. We can't be too careful. And remember, stay here. Luther, if anyone shows up looking for them, or for anyone, make sure they're out of sight. And if they have warrants, you know where the trail to our place is. The ends of it are hidden, they won't notice it. Send them up the trail." "Thanks for helping us," said Luther. "You don't know how important this is. Or perhaps you do. In any case, you have our gratitude." "We have to help each other," Grant said. "If you aren't already doing it," Bill said, "you should probably start having some kind of watchers on the entrance, so you can see what's coming. If you like, we can set up some cameras looking down the road. You can monitor them from inside." "That might be prudent," Luther said." "We'd best be going," said Grant. "We should be able to get back before dark." |
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Chapter 46 -- HWNVZDGRIADWQJCM
Carter was dreaming. Dreaming that he was being handcuffed and led into a building. Down tiled corridors to an elevator. Up several floors. Out into another corridor. Through double wide wooden doors. He was entering a courtroom. He was herded up the center aisle, his eyes fixed on the black-robed figure. He wondered why it was called the bench. He sensed he was dreaming but couldn't wake up. The judge rapped the gavel. Suddenly the courtroom exploded into a cacophony of noise and flashes of light, the sound of gunfire and explosions. Masked men in black were moving around him... He jerked awake. He was lying on his side, looking at Jessica who was already awake, leaning on her elbow, looking at him. "You all right?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm OK. Bad dream." "You seemed restless, that's unusual." "I guess I am. Aren't you?" "Of course. How could I not be? Waiting for something to happen, something you know is going to be bad. Sometimes I think I want it to start, to take my mind off all the possibilities I think about." "I guess we should be up," he said. "See what the day has for us." Donald was away at a Council meeting and wouldn't be back for another day. Carter and Jessica went over to her grandfather's house. He had already had breakfast with Dalton and Mary, and when they arrived Mary got up to fix them something. "No, Mary. We'll fix a little something. Sit here and visit some more. She leaned over to kiss her grandfather's cheek, and he put his arm around her, held her for a few moments. "Good morning, Darrell," he said. "You and Jessica relax for a while. There's not much to do until Don gets back." It was the calm before the storm, Carter knew. His morning dream had disquieted him, and he wondered if Jessica was as conflicted as he, or perhaps more. What they were setting out to do, no matter how justified, would involve death and destruction, possibly a lot of it. Jessica had toasted some breakfast pastries and he poured them each a cup of coffee. "You didn't drink your coffee black before you met Darrell," Gordon observed. "Did Darrell get you started?" "Yes," she replied, smiling. "We've found a lot of things to share." "I'm glad you two are happy," he said. "I know Don is too. I look forward to a time when we can take the time to just live normal lives together." "So do we," she said. "As you know," Gordon said, "it's likely that Mary and Dalton may be leaving as early as the next week or two. And I as well. Don fully expects the start to be in the next month or so. So we won't see you much, if it all, for a while. But we're completely safe, out of it, as much as I hate to be. But I have no doubts of you success. So we will be together again." Jessica, sitting at the corner of the table near her grandfather, put her hand on his and held it there for a few seconds. "I know, Grandfather. I don't know what will happen before we are together again, but I know we will be." After a while a call came from Tommy. Jessica spoke for just a few minutes and disconnected. "You want to go over to Saint Joe?" she asked Carter. "We probably have some shopping to do before Dad gets back, in case we have some immediate tasks." "Good idea," Carter said. "Are they bringing the girls?" While Tommy seemed to alternate a number of young women and James had developed a similar habit, recently each of them had seemed to settle on a preferred partner, something Carter and Jessica had quietly vetted, and Donald had had them checked out by a professional. So far each of them seemed clean, and both Tommy and James had avoided sleepovers at any of their intimate encounters, avoiding the possibility of unguarded speech. "We'll probably be gone the rest of the day," Jessica said. "Take care, and we'll see you tomorrow." Tommy and James met them at Jessica's house and they drove to town to pick up their dates. They were in one of the Trailblazers with Carter and Jessica in another. They got in some shopping before lunch, for the usual necessary items. That left the afternoon free for 'the girls' to shop. Jessica was a little older than them, but by just a few years, and the three of them engaged in a more frivolous activity - Jessica mostly for cover. She was as fixed on the upcoming events as they, but played along with the other two women. They had dinner at an Olive Garden, apparently the favorite of both of the girls, and Jessica was, like the men, concerned with more important matters than where or what to eat. The early sunset had them driving home after dark, and when Tommy and James went to deliver their dates to their homes Jessica and Carter continued home. They watched the news for a while, mostly from habit. There were no major events that day that would have interested them, so they watched the news of a handful of homicides in the usual places and just enough of political events to know it was time to retire. Tomorrow would come soon enough, with Donald's return and the news he brought. Later, as they lay in bed waiting for sleep, Jessica asked him about his dream. "I dreamed I was going into the courtroom, I guess when I was to be sentenced, but before they got me in front of the judge, something happened, men in black came in, shooting and, maybe throwing grenades. They were all wearing masks. That's where I woke up. "I think sometimes I dream things like that lately," she said. "I don't usually remember much, but there is violence, it seems. We shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Considering close we are to it beginning to happen." The next morning they were up early. Donald was arriving from the Council meeting, and for the first time the pilot would deliver him directly to the farm, using the new runway. I was almost noon when he arrived, the Cessna 340 stopped by the parking area just long enough for him to disembark, with Carter and Tommy taking his bags, then taxied away to the end of the runway to turn and prepare for takeoff. As they watched the aircraft disappear, Donald turned to walk with Carter and Jessica to one of the cars, Tommy and James taking the other. Since he was expected by lunch time, they went directly to the house to find it ready. "Give me just a few minutes to clean up," he said after greeting his father "and I'll be with you." He turned to go to his quarters. The others sat down at the large dining table and waited. They knew that the talk, whatever it might be, could wait another hour or so, so they enjoyed the meal with only casual chatter. All knew it would be one of the last such times - whatever happened going forward, there would be no more of Mary preparing meals and sitting around the table like a family - and they had become like a family, even though Jessica with her father and grandfather were the only blood relatives. After lunch they gathered in Donald's office as they did on most days. He turned on the television to watch one of the generic news channels and they watched for a while. A congressman was holding forth on a bill, this one to control the trade in precious metals. "They're moving fast," said Donald. "Let's see where they are..." He turned up the volume. ...and the unregulated trade in gold, silver, and other high-value commodities presents a opportunity not only for crimes, money laundering and concealment of assets not only by criminal organizations but by supposedly legitimate businesses seeking to avoid taxation. It is of the utmost importance that these loopholes be closed," said congressman Robert Hayes. Newly elected congressman, they knew. Part of the final blow to the opposition, as the ruling party had acquired enough seats in the last election to prevent any opposition. The minority party had essentially given up - few offered even token opposition and many did not show up for votes. "And perhaps the greatest threat," Hays continued, "is the ability of domestic terrorists to conceal their activities, using an untraceable medium of exchange. The threat is urgent and this avenue must be closed. I join my colleague from Massachusetts in sponsoring this urgently needed legislation." "Well, that was to be expected," Donald said. "In a way it may be a good thing. They're doing so much so fast that all the people who are likely to do something about will all get angry at once. Instead of picking off one group at a time, they'll have the entire opposition mobilized at once. The more organic uprising there is, the easier our job will be." He paused, took some papers from his briefcase and handed one to each of them before continuing. "Take a look at these," he said. Carter looked down at the single sheet of paper. Fellow Americans. We stand now at the edge of the abyss, another step forward and we are lost, perhaps forever. There is no longer time for anything but action. You who have for years, spoken of the threat, in all the available media. Will you now stop talking and DO SOMETHING? You who belong to organizations supposedly dedicated to the preservation of constitutional rights, will you now stop talking and DO SOMETHING? You people who have wealth from lucrative careers in business, entertainment, and other enterprises and wish to preserve the freedom you had for future generations, will you DO SOMETHING? You who have banded together in groups to live separately from a society that is no longer fit for decent people, will you stop complaining and DO SOMETHING? You who see the end coming and believe there is nothing you can do, will you die helpless under the boot of the tyrant, or will you DO SOMETHING? It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees. If you nevertheless choose to live on your knees, it will be for only a while. You will still die, after a useless life. There are many millions of us, we vastly outnumber the enemy. And only a few of them will fight - they must pay or coerce others to do their work. United they can not stand before us. "This," said Donald, "will be printed in large quantities, all over the country. I'm talking about millions, well over a hundred million, anyway. Enough for one in three adults, and they'll be endlessly reported in the news. Every person in the country will be exposed to it. We have the ability do distribute it in every state, reaching the entire population. We decided to distribute it a few days before the first strike, probably about a week. That will put it in the hands of millions, and despite the fact that it will help us by ensuring maximum exposure, all the news media will pick up and endlessly discuss it. We have several more in the works, to be distributed at later stages, the content to be determined by conditions at the time. "The second part of the setup is communicating to the independent groups we have been in contact with for a while now. They have agreed to hold their fire until we give the signal. That will be at the same time as first strike. Before they can react to what is happening in DC, brushfires will be starting all over the country. We're looking at complete paralysis - they can't touch us, and the freelancers will have them running in all directions, and once the people incited by our communique begin to act...if we keep the pressure on they'll come to the table at some point. Hopefully soon, but if not we're in it. "So, that's essentially it. We begin staging for the DC strike immediately. It's a big operation, most likely the the largest - the first blow must be one from which they never regain their balance. Generally if you can knock a man down and you can prevent him from getting back on his feet, he can't effectively fight you. That's what we have to do." |
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Chapter 47 -- GOCWGECAMCE
Carter and Jessica, along with Tommy and James, joined Donald in his office after breakfast, as they did on most days. The maps were consulted as he related the news of resources being positioned for the strike on the capitol. While the communications among the planners - the chiefs of the freeholds supplying the resources and the Council members - were on secure phones, they knew that the encryption could, in time, be broken. So the communications themselves were in an elaborate code which even if exposed was unlikely to be comprehended. "We're about there," Donald said. "The teams are in position, and the objectives are being frozen. At this point it's a matter of determining when the optimal number of targets are presented in the window. We're analyzing surveillance data to find the sweet spot, and then we'll set the day." For the past two years congressional activity had been slow as the August recess approached, and with each year of diminishing opposition to the ruling party it had become slower. Sessions were rather perfunctory now, and there were rarely late hours in the chambers, with the members regularly heading out by early afternoon to get a start on an evening of dining and drinking. The numbers of inebriated members of the congress exiting the various establishments on any day was impressive. The teams were in place, with weeks of blending in to the local environment, watching their targets coming and going, oblivious to their impending fate. The city was calm, the few demonstrations sometimes put on by the opposition had been non-existent for weeks, and a carefree, almost festive atmosphere infused the area. Donald and the group watched the news at least once a day, usually in the early evening, with the favored patriot channel running on another screen. In recent days the programming on it and some like it had been subdued, mostly talk with various obscure members of the opposition. They knew that the word had been passed to some of those outlets, and they were observing the desired protocol. Like hunters on the hills watching the buffalo grazing, Carter thought. A gnawing disquiet lurked now at times, the idea of what was about to happen. He had asked Jessica, and she felt it as well. He supposed the others also did, and all were keeping it hidden. They watched as the six o'clock program went by, almost dull with the lack of any violence outside of the usual urban slaughter. With no significant events in the news, Donald updated them on the operation. "We've now got about four dozen, fifty-one in all, kill teams in place and with targets selected. Some of them will almost certaily be multiples, So we could be looking at fifty, sixty kills. And then we'll see what the reaction is. "We're expecting, of course, some raids on suspects, probably selected at random from their pool of targets to eventually be hit anyway, they'll probably go ahead and take out a few of them. And since they don't know who did it, they'll be wasting a lot of time on guesses. Meanwhile, we'll be preparing our first communique. "What's in it depends on how the operation goes - if we get most or all of our targets and don't lose anyone we can be quite obnoxious in our approach, address them with contempt, let them know they're helpless in terms of actually finding the perpetrators. If it doesn't go so well, much will depend on whether they manage to capture any of our people. We hope they don't, but if so we'll have to evaluate the situation more carefully." "What if we do lose some?" asked Carter. "That will depend on whom and how many," Donald replied. "If we were to lose one or two, captured, they will know that we'll be working to free them, so they'll just lawyer up and that pretty much puts a stop to everything - they could sit there and say nothing for weeks, months. It wouldn't be much fun but they know it's part of the business and we won't leave them behind. And we have lawyers standing by for that eventuality. "If someone gets killed, that's another matter. None of them will be carrying anything to disclose their actual identity, so it's likely the artificial persona will become part of the official record - unless they have fingerprints or DNA somewhere, and probably most of us don't. The ex-military guys would have fingerprints, and DNA since they started collecting that back in the nineties. Since most of us are off the grid it's unlikely they could track them to their freehold, even with their legitimate ID. And if they did they could simply deny knowing anything about it. They'd come under suspicion, of course, but since we'd know already we could get damage control underway immediately. It's quite likely they would never make the connection." "I wonder what the status is on the commune they attacked," Jessica said. "Good question," said Tommy. "I've been chatting with a guy at Republic25, let me see if he's got anything new." He turned to one of the computers that now crowded the large conference table. James rolled his chair over to look. In recent weeks they had visited with Steve Austin, the tech guru down near Columbia and absorbed as much knowledge as he could impart in a week. Which was quite a lot, and both were more comfortable with the League's communications network. "Here's something," said Tommy, moving and clicking his mouse a few times. "Looks like a recent update." A young woman about Jessica's age appeared in a frame. Tommy expanded it and turned up the volume. "We have some information about last week's attack on the community near Camden," she said. Unlike a television personality, she was plainly dressed in a khaki shirt much like those favored by the freeholders, and without the expensive hair and makeup work looked quite normal. "As you may know, the small religious commune known as the Mount Carmel Communion was attacked by state and federal agents, resulting in the destruction of the commune and several deaths, with the survivors being arrested. Most of them, anyway. I've just been talking to Randy, who's on the scene now. Randy?" "Hello Sarah," a voice replied. Evidently they didn't have a camera crew on site. "I've just been talking with some of the nearby residents, and ran into someone interesting. Essentially, though, this is what seems to have happened - the feds and state police showed up around nine, and when the residents refused to open the gates they broke in and began attempting to corral the residents. There was some shooting, the latest information we have is that two of the LE types were killed, both of them feds. Several, we don't know how many, were wounded. A still unknown number of the residents were killed and wounded. "After they had cleared the houses, they went toward the wooded area behind the houses and were fired on, killing two more. Apparently thinking their quarry had fled, they entered the woods, setting off an IED which killed another. They retreated and waited until the next morning to continue. They found no one in the woods." "Did they burn the houses?" asked Sarah. "Surely they didn't all catch fire at once, after the occupants had been taken away." "No, Sarah. Some of the locals watched them go house to house firing incendiary grenades through the windows, then watching them burn." "Any word on those who escaped?" "The only thing we know, Sarah, is that there some people in the woods who were not found when they cleared the area. Presumably they escaped during the night. There is mostly farm land around here, and it would be easy enough to walk out the back way. What we do know is that the authorities are searching, earlier on one of the news channels, the were interviewing someone from the FBI, and he said they were 'casting a wide net'. I would suppose they will interrogate the prisoners for information on who they were and where they might have gone." "A wide net means they'll fan out around the location," said James. "Looking for any family and acquaintances that might shelter them. Hope they're good at hiding and don't trust anyone." "They'll certainly be on this hard," Donald said. "Agents killed. That's why they slaughtered those people at Waco years ago. And more recently the people at Sunset Meadow. They want people to get the message that resistance is not futile, it's fatal. I wonder if we have any contacts in that area." He looked through some files, Tommy was doing the same on his computer. "This is close," said Donald. "About a hundred miles. A few months ago we made contact with a group out in the hills, prepper types, good-looking organization, apparently with some money. Couple of our guys, Brad and Alex from Zebra Pass, had been out that way when they moved in a couple of years back. They left them a shield and some vague clues, in case they could be of any use. Wonder if we should check in with them, see what they know." "It could be useful," said Jessica. I suspect these people aren't as good at covering their tracks as we are. And if the fugitives from Mount Carmel show up there, and the feds track them there, they should be prepared. And it would be good to know how they plan to respond." "I'll see if our friends at Zebra have a quick way to contact them securely," Donald said. We should warn them if we can. We have a secure channel to Zebra, it's a little cumbersome using OTPs, but we can do it. I'd better get on it - as close as they are it might not take long to find them." |
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Chapter 48 -- FDLCCTBHFKJUIAQOEFEZEAIFD
Daniel Hale sat at his computer, one of several on the long folding table they had set up in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The house, a modest middle-class house had been rented some months earlier when the operation plans were being finalized. It was never unattended, so even if the landlord or anyone else came in they would no be able to tamper with the computers. While the computers would not arouse suspicion, the weapons might, if they were found. To this end the house, and several others scattered about the area, had been furnished with hiding places - large wardrobes, storage cabinets, and dressers and chests in the bedrooms - holding the weapons. Large supplies of ammunition as it would be a one-time affair, with the equipment spirited out of the area when it was over. His platoon, as they called it, comprised forty-four men divided into squads of four to six. They were on the streets most days, unarmed, keeping a close watch on their quarry. He was confident in their chances of hitting them all with no problems. Thomas Gibbs came into the room. He had been downstairs, waiting for a patrol to return. The men, divided among the rented houses, went out daily in pairs, surveilling the target areas and the neighborhoods where they were quartered, looking for any signs of trouble. Four of the men living in the house with them alternated patrol duties. "How's it going?" he asked. "Good as can be, so far," Daniel replied. "It looks like all we have to do is wait for the signal. Everything is really calm out there - they've done a good job of making the enemy think they're having an easy time of it." "That's good," said Thomas. "It looks good outside as well. Since the orders to the freelancers to stand down, it looks like they all have. That affair out in Tennessee didn't involve any of our affiliates, as far as I can tell - looks like it was strictly a suppression operation by the feds." "Yeah, it looks like the resistance was just one of those things that rarely happens when they do that - they picked the wrong target and got burned." "And now they've got no telling how much manpower going after the handful that got away. This should be interesting to watch, if we can get any reports, on how much resources they're using." "We should get something in the next day or two." said Daniel. "They've admitted there's a manhunt on. Of course they don't realize that's useful information to us, but our sources are probably better. There's hardly a group of any size that we don't have some contact with." He spread a large sheet of paper, taken from a stack of old-fashioned computer paper with perforated edges. Daniel was an older man, working in a computer operations center when he was younger. The large pages with alternating horizontal bars of green and white had been used for printing reports on high- speed printers. There were always a few wasted pages at the end, and he saved them for drawing. The younger Thomas kidded him about it, suggesting they might be collector's items one day. Now he was drawing on the side with the bars, which facilitated drawing lines and boxes. "OK," he said, "here are our nine squads. The latest report is on you computer, by the way. It's no more than an hour old." Thomas rolled his chair over to view his screen. "Of the nine squads," Daniel said, "seven have no reservations at all, even if we got the go signal today. The other two actually don't either, but I suspect if any of us are likely to have nerve issues, they might. Of course, once you go in, there's no time for that to affect you - either you go or you don't. And a few more days of what we've been seeing, there won't be any hesitation. Between the anger and the realization of what will happen if nothing is done, we're all committed beyond recall." "You mean the suppression activities?" asked Thomas. "Yeah, it is a little spooky that it's going on with almost no incidents at all. That one out in Tennessee the other day was apparently someone who didn't get the message, or ignored it. I would suspect the enemy are congratulating themselves on how easy it's been." "We hope so," Daniel said. "The less suspicion they have that something may be going on, the more complete the surprise." "What do you expect the day to be?" "Well, since it's dependent largely on feedback from us, I'd guess we're looking at the August recess, probably late July but not the end. Some of our targets may leave early, and we want them here. We're waiting for feedback on the more important targets, at least, to see if they're in a habit of leaving before the last day. And as slow as they are this year it could happen." The League had a few operatives among congressional staff, mostly with members of the opposition but a few who had managed to get close members of the ruling party - just close enough to be aware of their activities and plans. That information would go into the mix with the other intelligence. Together they looked over the diagrams on the paper. Since the strikes would be completely unanticipated, the news outlets would have no information for at least an hour or more afterward, since they would be relying completely on interviews with witnesses. Their own observers would have what they needed to assess the operation and its outcome. Those observers were a corps assembled months before from several freeholds. They were already in the city, surveilling the expected sites, seeking vantage points for observing the action and if possible recording some of it. Not that any risks would be incurred - any documentation would be opportunistic. Like the strike force the two dozen or so of them were installed at several rented residences, spending most of their time in the areas where the action was expected. They would obviously be picked up by surveillance cameras, but like the strike teams they were disguised and left behind no physical traces. And if their assumed identities became known, they would lead to the various dead ends that had been engineered by the ones who created the personas. And if their true identities were ever discovered they would also point to a dry well. In any case, it would take time, more time than was available for the situation to at least become stable - with the government at the table. Most of the strike teams were already stalking their targets daily, ensuring they could be at the kill zone. It would take a considerable disruption in the routine of one or more of them to make the hit and a clean getaway impossible. There was little more to do than maintain the stability of the situation and be alert for any changes. "Incoming message," said Daniel. "Let's take a look." The message was in an email, which while on a server owned and controlled by the League would be subject to interception and so was encoded with an unbreakable cipher. The only such cipher known to exist, in fact, but one that required care in use. "I always wonder if it will work," he said. The message displayed on the screen looked like rows of apparently random characters, which was precisely what it was. The key with which it was encrypted was unique, and existed in only two places - the place it was sent from and the authorized recipient. Daniel inserted a USB drive into the a slot and waited for it to mount. When it did he quickly copied a file from it, then unmounted and removed it. "Here we go," he said, pasting the key into a box on the screen, beside a box containing the message. A third box displayed the deciphered message. Had he not selected the correct key the result would have been more gibberish. "Well," he said, "barring an abort, we're on for the twenty-seventh." The twenty-seventh of August was a Friday - peak activity in the city. Most of the workforce celebrating the weekend, restaurants and bars would be packed. The conditions would work for them or against them, but unless something went very wrong they would work in their favor. The planning had anticipated being the busiest day of the week, and the crowds and traffic that would be present. With total surprise, there was little chance of being thwarted. In addition, there were plans for the police. During the countdown to the start of the operation a number of diversions would have drawn as much as possible of the police resources away from the areas where the strikes would occur. Beginning with a bomb threat at a location certain to draw a large contingent of police, a few calls into the 911 system that would take more - in addition to the usual weekend crime - and a considerable amount of police resources would be tied up. And finally, word of a planned illegal demonstration by white supremacists at the capitol would be leaked to Antifa, guaranteeing a large crow in response. That would draw more cops to back up the capitol police, if necessary. This last amused both Daniel and Thomas. Although dissident activity had been low for the past several years, due to the despondence of the opposition, but the trigger phrases never failed. "White supremacist," said Daniel. "You would almost think they believe that they exist." "Perhaps they do," Thomas replied. "A lot of them say things so often they may lose the ability to separate reality from fantasy. Like some actors who've spent their lives impersonating other people, acting out events, they confuse the real with the imaginary. And considering that so many of them are to some degree mentally ill, or have been indoctrinated so well, that they begin to believe such things." "Well," Daniel said, "it will be interesting what they're saying next Friday." "That's certain," said Thomas. "It's going to, for better or worse, a different world for a lot of people." |
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Chapter 49 -- FBEKXREGWHJEBUBNZ
Grant paid for his purchases at the Wal-Mart store and carried the bags out to his truck. Before leaving town he topped off the fuel tanks in his truck and went over to the cashier's window of the gas station and bought several packs of the little cigars he occasionally smoked. Bill was the only other one of the committee who smoked, but a handful of the other residents did. The only cigarette smokers among them were several who bought bulk tobacco and made their own. The cost was less and put less money into the government due to the abusive taxes He had thought for the past couple of days that he was being tailed, but as far as he could tell he had shaken them, if they were following him, before heading home. He had warned his fellows about it so they would be on the alert. As he left the gas station he kept his eye on the vehicle he suspected, having seen it lurking before. A blue Dodge Charger was parked at the end of a row across the lane from the gas station, no other cars within several spaces. He was fairly sure he had seen it several times in the past two days, the first time in a while he had been in town so frequently. The car was a common type, and blue was a common color, but Grand had always been good at observing things most people did not pay attention to. And this car had a particular combination of characteristics that caught his eye. He left the station, heading for the parking lot exit, and the car followed. It was time to test his theory. For the next hour or so he drove around town, making several stops, keeping an eye on the vehicle. After the third time he parked, went inside a business, and returned to his truck the car was there. The tail was being discreet, leaving cars between them when in traffic, but always ending up at the same place. He called Bill. "What's up?" Bill asked. "Looks like I got a tail." "What's your twenty?" "Just a sec". Grant consulted the truck's nav system. "OK, ready?" "Go ahead." Grant read the coordinates. "I'm in the parking lot of the Greenway shopping center. I'll go inside one of stores. He's waiting out at the edge of the parking lot, near the highway. Once I get to the front of the building he can't see me - I'll go down one of the alleys and meet you out back." "Gotcha. See you in about fifteen." Grant sat in his truck pretending to be occupied with his phone. When he saw Bill's car, one that was rarely driven to town, enter the parking lot he got out and walked towards the stores. Once invisible to the tail he walked into one of the alleys. Coming out the back he was just in time to get into the car as Bill stopped. Going around to the parking lot they could see the tail car, and it did not move as they passed. "I guess he'll figure out at some point I'm not coming back," said Grant. "We can come back and pick up my truck later." "So what are you thinking?" Bill asked as they drove away. "I'm guessing we're under surveillance," Grant replied. "I had the impression he was trying to find out where home was for me. Which would mean that I, or the vehicle, is under suspicion but they don't know where I'm based. I guess none of the others have noticed anything." "Not as far as I know," said Bill. "The vehicles are registered to our addresses outside. I wonder if we were compromised when we picked up Luther's associates." "That might explain them being after the vehicle but not knowing where to find it," said Grant. "We do know there's a manhunt on for them and whoever else escaped from their community." "We need to warn Luther," Bill said. "They're not as prepared for dealing with this sort of thing as we are. The cameras we put up for them are transmitting to our facility. They haven't reported any suspicious activity there or here." "That would suggest they haven't connected them with either location," said Grant. "We need to keep a close eye on activity around our gates and theirs." "We'll see what happens when we pick up your truck." "Yeah. I don't know if we should leave it there overnight. It's probably not uncommon, so it would probably be all right. But maybe we should come over and get it, say about two or three in the morning. They'll have given up for the day, probably come back early to resume surveillance." "We could do that," Bill said. "At that time it'll be easy to spot a tail, we'd be the only ones on the road most of the way." "Let's do that. And meanwhile get back and advise the others." They returned home, located the other members of the committee and discussed the matter. Grant and Bill drove over to visit Luther and inform him, and gave him some tips on dealing with tails. They didn't go out much, except for some like Ted who worked outside the community, and it wasn't readily identifiable as any sort of organization as was theirs was. When they returned to their base, they found Douglas, Arthur and Gerald meeting with a young man, the one who had mysteriously appeared at the gate earlier in the month. Apparently he had been dropped off by a vehicle which continued on its way afterward. After the meeting he had walked back to the gate a quarter of a mile away, presumably to be picked up. This time the arrival and departure would be recorded on the newly installed cameras, but was unlikely to tell them anything useful - he seemed to be part of an organization that was both very professional and competent. "Grant, Bill - you remember Brad," Arthur said. "He has news." "We're looking at next Friday," Brad said, "for a major event. You'll know what it is when it happens - there'll be no mistake. I can't tell you more, obviously, but there's no need. The main thing is we want everyone who might have plans to hold them until after Friday. We're working for maximum quiet all over, to avoid anything from alerting the enemy." "We don't have any plans," Arthur said, "but we can't predict possible events." He told them about the two escapees from Mount Carmel and the suspicion that they were under surveillance. "Let's hope they don't come up with anything on you before next Friday," Brad said. "If they haven't done anything by then they lose interest. If they do move against you, it can't be helped." "No," Arthur said, "we'll have to defend ourselves. And if they go after the neighbors, we'll have to help." "Tell me about our neighbors," Brad said. "We noticed their place, and thought it might be some sort of resistance community, but we haven't been able to find out much. Actually we haven't been able to investigate much out here - it's a big country and all kinds of places to hide things." "They're a religiously based outfit, a church in fact, and all the members live there. They're not one of the off-the-wall cults you sometimes hear about, just people who want to be left alone. They know that won't be possible for much longer, and we talk from time to time. The two guys we picked up, one of them anyway, was related to one of them. That's how they got involved." "I see," Brad said. "So you're tied up with them, and how you handle that is up to you. At this point we can't do much now beyond giving you information about what is happening. So if something comes up before next week - well, the way things are going now a lot can happen in the next eleven days. Other than that, it's about all for now. Good luck." "Same to you," Arthur said. "Can we drive you to the gate?" "Better if you don't," Brad replied. "I'll hang out in the trees along the road, wait for my ride. With any luck we won't be seen when I'm picked up." He went out and began walking up the road. They watched for a while and went back inside. "Time will tell, I suppose," said Arthur. "He sounds confident. I wonder, if he's that certain, what must be behind this." He fingered the small shield, one of the ones Brad had given them. "There must be some organization at work," said Grant, "with the ability to do things. Significant things. They found us, and we're out here a good ways, doing nothing to draw attention to ourselves." "It would seem to be a fairly large operation," said Gerald. "Mike Charlie." "What's that?" asked Bill. Gerald held up the shield. "The letters. Mike Charlie in the military phonetic alphabet," he said. "We were picking up references in the underground chat. Mike Charlie was one of the more consistent things we were seeing and couldn't find out anything about it." "That and Samson," Douglas said. "I wonder if Samson is related, or something else entirely." "Good question," said Bill. "Since we know nothing useful either one except that Mike Charlie might be related to our visitor." "We might want to see what our tech team has," Grant said. He pressed a button on a desk phone. "Engineering," said a voice. It was Jeff, Gerald's son. The phone was connected to a private local network consisting of buried wires accessible only from inside the buildings. "Hey Jeff," Gerald said. "We're all here in a committee meeting. What have you observed on Samson and Mike Charlie lately?" "I was just wondering if I ought to call you," Jeff replied. "The past week there has been a slight but steady increase in references. It seems to have leveled off, but it's definitely up." "Any ideas?" asked Grant. "The major change has been its appearance in a number of new channels. Those are sources we've been monitoring for a while and we're seeing it there for the first time. Like it's spreading, slowly but steadily." "Is that for both or only one?" asked Arthur. "Almost all the growth has been Mike Charlie. Samson is in the usual places, but not much in the new ones." They looked at each other. An increase in traffic, if their man was associated with Mike Charlie, could be important. "How much geo analysis can you do?" asked Gerald. "In terms of where the traffic is," Jeff said, "it's all over the map. However, unless we can associate a location with the participants, and in most cases we can't, the geo data doesn't help much. Almost all the IPs are associated with VPN providers." That made sense. Any sensible person involved in what was now or soon would be treated as treasonous by the government would conceal his identity and location. "Do you have an idea of how many new actors have come on stage recently?" Gerald asked. "That we can do," said Jeff. "At least in terms of new channels. We had been seeing it on about, probably, twenty-five to thirty percent of the channels we were monitoring. That's up to over fifty percent, and of new channels we've added recently, it's about half there as well." "Still no link to any entity we can identify?" asked Bill. "No," Jeff replied. "Nothing but rumors and questions and cryptic comments." "Anything about some expected event, next Friday?" asked Grant. "That's eleven days from now." "That I have seen," said Jeff. "Let me see, so far just three references. One is about eleven days and the other two are for next Friday. Want me to keep an eye on that?" "Please do," said Gerald. "It could be important." "Will do," said Jeff. "Anything else?" "Nothing we can think of just now," Gerald replied. "Talk to you later." |
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Chapter 50 -- QINLGFSVOFAVHINUVQ
Carter and Jessica were at the usual meeting in Donald's office. They had driven over to St. Joseph the previous day, followed by Tommy and James in another vehicle, to purchase supplies that might happen to be needed in the next few days. The farm was well supplied with all basic necessities, and could go without trips outside for weeks if necessary, but they were being more cautious than ever with the event of a lifetime about to occur. It was now only three days away, and they could not avoid occasional feelings of apprehension. They were about to cross the Rubicon, and the water that was the line beyond which there was no retreat. "Burn the bridge behind you, leave no retreat, there's only one way home," James had said, quoting a poem, or maybe a song, Carter didn't remember if he had said. It was certainly fitting - the Rubicon, ships and bridges burned, it seemed that for such times there was a line at which one could stop and wait for a moment or two of contemplation, or plunge ahead without hesitation. There were probably times, he thought, when in that moment doubt prevailed and great deeds went undone. And no one would ever know what might have been. What might be was in this clear, as was what would be if they hesitated. His life might not be worth the proverbial plugged nickel a short time from now, and if he survived it might be as a prisoner of the enemy, a fate likely worse than death. He had been a prisoner, and the thought of the miserable life awaiting if he failed and survived made that an easy choice. "Everyone all right?" Donald asked as they took their seats. They all responded as nonchalantly as could be managed. They all felt tension at times and were at other times able to push it into the background. Each felt a need to avoid any feelings of doubt or fear, and since those were natural emotions the act of keeping them inside made them all a little tense at times. Alone at night Carter and Jessica were able to find some comfort in their emotional closeness, but still it was difficult to get to sleep at times. He wondered how it would change once the battle was joined. "There's not much new," Donald said. "Which is good, inasmuch as there's nothing to put the targets on edge before the strike. We're hoping for three more calm days. This time of year, particularly with the congressional recess, us usually fairly slow. A lot of people still on vacation, the school year still a few weeks away. And the teams are comfortable with the setup. "Any more from William?" asked Carter. "They hit a couple of bumps in the road early on." "Looks good," Donald replied. "I spoke with him briefly last night. They were a little uneasy about getting everyone in place in time for an effective pre-op, but it looks good." "That was the only mass operation then," said Jessica. "And all the smaller ones look good." "Yeah," said Donald. "A lot of five, six man teams working independently is a lot easier, the only real problem is not stepping on each other. And the plans are all well separated in terms of the locations. Fortunately DC is a big place and the targets are scattered at any given time." "Is there anything else we should be thinking about?" Carter asked. "Now that everything is sitting on go, it's a little spooky. Let's run through Friday evening, on paper, and see how it looks." "OK," said Donald, getting up and walking over to a large whiteboard. "Let's see." He drew a large square, drew several small circles in it. Drawing lines from the clear area to the circles, an arrowhead on the end at the circles. "The teams will be in the areas where the targets are expected, using intelligence gathered in real time, or they will pick them up as they leave the Capitol area and follow them. They're all comfortable moving around the area, getting in and more importantly, out. Which can be tricky if things don't go smoothly. And there's no reason to believe they all will. "Essentially, for most of them we're looking at the classic mob hit. Catch the target entering or leaving a business, like a restaurant. Or a car. Those moments when they're both exposed and at a low level of vigilance. They'll be distracted, by their companions, driver, or employees like valets. Most of them will be taken that way. It's a Friday night, the last weekend in DC for most. With the atmosphere even more calm than usual, and their natural arrogance, they won't be expecting anything. The trick is to do the job and egress quickly and cleanly." Donald clicked on the television, the usual news broadcast on. The ubiquitous young blonde woman was speaking, and they watched for a while. The current segment was about a large-scale shooting in Oakland California. Due to the large number of dead it looked as if it would go on for a while, with a parade of witnesses, experts and others. He turned down the sound. "Is there anything on that raid in Tennessee?" Tommy asked. "I haven't heard of them catching anyone yet," Donald replied. "They've had a dragnet out since it happened, unless they've scaled it back in the last day or two. One of the shows had supposed reliable source who said they weren't getting anything from the ones in custody, so they don't know who or how many they're looking for. Another one said they had some IDs on the fugitives, so who knows. It looks like it's gone quiet for the time being." "Quiet is good," Carter said. "Let's see. East coast is an hour ahead. Do our teams have an idea of when the action starts?" "It's Friday," Donald replied, "so expect an early exit from the Capitol. There could be some action as early as mid-afternoon. Once it starts, it'll take a while for anyone to notice something's up, and longer to actually do anything. Since the earliest ones will have already put a strain on the police, with our pre-op diversions, it could take quite a while. The longer it takes them to start locking things down and figuring out that there's an entire class being targeted the more time we have to work." "What does Saturday morning look like, I wonder?" James asked. "That's a good question," Donald replied. "The way if comes off, is a sudden, high intensity attack taking out a large, we hope, number of members of Congress. That's going to be a big shock - we can't know how they'll deal with it. And when our operatives vanish without a trace, we hope, it will probably take even longer for any kind of reaction. Other than immediately putting the ones who are still alive under heavy security. Sapping more resources from an already overloaded system. If all goes well, confusion and uncertainty will be the rule for a number of days." "And then?" Jessica asked. "And then," Donald said, "if things look right, we'll make the first communique to the regime. It will be simply that a state of war exists. A state of war between the Constitutional Republic of the United States of America, and the incumbent government of the United States. It will contain an offer to negotiate a peaceful resolution, and a warning that a failure to do so will result in more attacks." "What does the offer look like?" Carter asked. "If accepted, and that is unlikely, it will offer to have our representatives meet with theirs. Should that offer be accepted, then we will offer to cease hostilities when our terms are accepted and implemented. Of course that isn't going to happen, so we'll have to continue to impose pressure." "I wonder at what point a direct communication between us and them begins," Jessica said. "And how does that go? I know the Council has a spokesman in mind, and presumably he would be talking to the president. Is our link setup solid?" "When the first communication happens," said Donald, "I can of course only speculate. Probably our first overture will be ignored outright - no reply. At that point we apply more pressure, and again it will be a heavy blow. I suspect that the second one will at least get a response - what it will be I have no idea. But once they are persuaded they're dealing with a real threat, and they have few options in dealing with it, we may get some constructive dialogue, or not." "What are your thoughts about the president?" Jessica asked. "He's obviously a puppet, so the puppet masters will be giving him the words to say. We know that and they may know we know, or not. We know most of them are not very smart. Cunning, but not smart. How do we ever get them to understand they're beaten?" "We probably never will," Donald replied. "Our assessment is that very few if any of them will make the right decision. The majority will take the attitude that if they can't have it, no one will. At that point, we hope, the cooler heads will be provided by the military. While it's true most of the upper ranks are hopelessly corrupt, they are generally more intelligent than politicians. You don't even get into a service academy or an officer training program unless you're pretty smart. Not necessarily ethical or idealistic, but intelligent. And their survival instinct is better - career politicians who know nothing but infighting and buying and selling themselves and each other don't have that. Once those things don't work for them, they're lost." "So the military ends up deciding it?" asked Jessica. "In a way," said Donald. "Once they're against the wall and the situation is one they're not likely to survive, they'll appeal to the generals to do something. By which they'll mean, save us, thinking that afterwards the status quo will be resumed. The generals will know better. Whether they manage to persuade them to be reasonable or kill off a few more of them to make their point, we believe that ultimately we may find ourselves dealing with them, even if they're speaking through the political mouthpiece." "And that may take a while," Carter said. "No doubt," said Donald. "Phase two will be outside the capitol. People will be affected and demand action. Since they can't find us, they'll probably stall for time by acting like they're doing something. A few raids on some of the usual suspects - they'll have a list of disgruntled outfits they want to attack anyway, and would eventually. They'll hit some of those and hope nothing else happens. "And when that doesn't work, and we hit them harder each time, who knows how many iterations we go through. But if we hold together, stay off the radar, they'll run out of options at some point. Then they beg the generals for help." "And the generals' response?" "With any luck it will be to tell the government to capitulate. If it isn't, it won't take long to convince them. But we're at the end now. In a few days we'll be in it. for whatever it brings." |
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Chapter 51 -- TTMIPHWAKIICXO
Dorothy Harrison looked out at the window of the limousine as it rolled along Maryland Avenue. Congress was in recess and by tomorrow afternoon she would be back in California. Sitting beside her was her senior aide, a thirtyish young woman from Los Angeles and a friend of the family. Not especially a friend of hers - she was over forty years younger - but as the daughter of her a longtime associate of her husband, she had been well vetted before joining the staff eight years earlier, when she became Speaker of the House. That being Speaker would be her highest achievement had once annoyed her. At ten years younger she might have had a shot the presidency, even though members of Congress were rarely elected. Times had changed and with her party effectively in unchallenged control of the country, anything might be possible. But she was too old and she knew it. And if she completed this term, whether there would be another was questionable. Her body was going downhill fast, and already she was wondering if it was worth it. She hated the diapers she had to wear in public, and hated the fact that by now all of her staff and therefore, most everyone in Congress, knew it. And of course it was by now public. She had seen the looks, from people who did not have to fear her, as they turned away to snicker and go gossip to their friends. That did not matter. The government was as good as theirs, and she would be memorialized as one of those who brought about the new America. She shifted in her seat to accommodate the bulky undergarment, panicking for a moment as she felt an urge rise, wanting to contain it and knowing she could not. It would come, if it did, and there was nothing she could do about it except have her aide go to the restroom with her to clean up. And everyone present would know what was in the bag she carried. It passed and relieved, she glanced over at Alexis. She was looking out the window and she could not tell if she had noticed her discomfort. She had seen it often enough anyway. They were leaving Maryland Avenue, onto a side street leading to the restaurant. Alexis released her seat belt and prepared to help her employer. They would be dining with Henry Wortman, chairman of the powerful Ways and Means committee. Wortman, at sixty-eight, was much younger that Harrison but even so had been in Congress for a long time. In his eighth term he was far behind the thirty-two years Harrison had been in, but he had risen fast with the support of the powerful New York political machine. His elections were guaranteed as long as he did not fall out of favor with the party, and he had no intention of doing so. His dinner date with Harrison was little more than a casual signal to the other members of his status as her likely replacement when she retired, whether in another two years or four. 'The old bag can't last forever' he thought as he sipped his scotch and soda. He didn't especially like her. In fact, he didn't like her at all, and was fairly certain she regarded him with a certain amount of contempt. Their relationship was purely business, and whatever had to be done to achieve their goals had to be done. They were only in Washington about half the year, actually less, and the time spent there was by no means lost. Never much of a golfer, he played only when it seemed advantageous to accept an invitation, so that particular time-wasting part of a politician's life did not much affect him. Which left more time for women and booze, and other entertainments. He wondered what was keeping her. He had left early, and as the Speaker she was likely to have been delayed by some sycophant. There were plenty of those, with each of the past three elections adding a few new faces. He was glad he didn't have to put up with them - the Speaker would have difficulty avoiding them, but as his only distinction was being a committee head, he had fewer such irritants. "They're on the way in now," said Dennis. His young assistant put his phone away. "Another drink?" "Sure. I need to be well ahead of her to get through this." He finished the drink, his second, as Dennis signalled for a waiter. He watched the entrance to he room, and as Harrison and her aide entered he rose and went around the table to pull out their chairs and greet them. The usual pleasantries were uttered and drinks ordered, and the usual small talk ensued. Alexis favored Dennis with a smile that might have passed for real, had she been capable of one. She ought to chat him up once in a while, she thought. He could be useful for her plans after Harrison retired, or she might want his position. She wondered what the prospects were for seducing Wortman. She was young and fairly attractive, not to mentioned experienced. One learned a lot of things in this environment. He wasn't in any way good-looking, but she had serviced worse, and would again if the reward was worth it. The waiter soon arrived and took their orders, and she and Dennis sat watching their bosses talk, occasionally looking at each other. He seemed to take an interest in her, so certainly he could be a good avenue to explore. She had met him a few times, but had never asked if he was married or noticed if he wore a wedding ring. She looked at her boss again, alert for any sign she might be about to have an incident. Outside, vehicles were being positioned and watchers stationed in strategic places around the entrance to the restaurant. Two men dressed in black BDUs took up positions inside two vans in the livery of an electrical contractor. Two other men waited in cars and two more, in casual dress, patrolled the area, without ever lingering long enough in any location to arouse suspicion. The parking lot was relatively full but not congested, and the getaway cars were positioned so their exit could not be blocked. When the two limousines used by the targets moved to the entrance, it would be time to move. The short-range FM radios they were using had a clean channel with no other traffic, and the six men kept up regular transmissions to keep each other up to date. The men, particularly the two shooters, had studied their quarry for weeks, and had stalked them in the final days leading up to this night. The summer solstice was past and the daylight was ending earlier, but daylight savings time had not yet ended. It looked as if the strike would occur just before sunset, with the urban landscape creating a varied environment of light and shadow. Presently the parking lights on one of the target cars came on, and a few seconds later those of the other came on as well. The shooters readied their weapons and prepared for action. The vans were parked near the entrance, back to back. The headlights of both cars were on now, and they left their parking spaces and made their way to the restaurant entrance. The shooters left the vans through the back doors and move, almost invisible in the shadows of the vans and the foliage along the wall of the building. Side by side they leaned back against the sides of the vans, as the dinner party exited the restaurant. The drivers had gone around to open the doors, the passengers now were crossing the brick floor between the last step and the street. In a silent, fluid rush the two shooters moved from behind the vans, shouldering the light .40 caliber carbines, the dots of the laser sights finding the two targets, both standing rather conveniently side by side, with their assistants just to one side. The drivers had just begun to move when the shooters opened fire, placing a dozen or so rounds each into the selected target in less than three seconds. Other than some slight jerking the targets didn't move at all, for a couple of seconds. Then both fell into motionless heaps. Each of the shooters tossed a flash-bang toward their victims and ran into the parking lot just in time to rendezvous with two cars. Each one entered a car and they sped away. Across the parking lot, two of the men who had been patrolling the lot had moved into vantage points that gave a good view of the entrance. As the shooters had moved into position each had activated a camera, recording the shooting and the few seconds after. Well outside the area of the action, they casually walked to a car driven by the third man, who drove without haste back onto Maryland Avenue. They had gone several miles before they encountered a police car going in the direction of the restaurant. "I hope the pre-op diversions went as planned," said one of the shooters. "Some of the teams may not have had as much cushion as we did." "Yeah," said the other. "You figure two or three minutes to get a call in and get an answer - it's a Friday night - and then another minute or so to give them the info. Then a minute or two to call and a response from the nearest car. We were several minutes gone before then." "Good show," the other said. "Let's see if we can raise the photo team." He activated a phone and called a number, conversed briefly and hung up. "They shot the scene and egressed about a couple of minutes after us," he said. "Excellent," said his partner. Then both slumped back in the seats, the carbines across their knees. The driver would keep them out of trouble with traffic cops, if any were available by now. The police force would soon have every cop and car occupied, if they did not already. Herbert Colbert finished his third after dinner drink and looked across the table at the young junior senator from Missouri. Not yet fifty-one, he was one of the youngest senators, in a body with an average age over sixty-five. Colbert himself was seventy-one but looked ten years younger, something he he enjoyed hearing. And unlike the old woman over in the House, he thought, he still had all his faculties. The ease with which he had found success with his objectives in the past several years sometimes disappointed him. With the other party so outnumbered now that even token resistance was rare, he missed the fights. Now the Senate Majority Leader, he was mostly herding the body into into the desired form. More, he missed the adulation of the party operatives, and having a bank of microphones and a array of cameras awaiting whenever he walked out of the senate building. He had been sizing up Erskine McCormick since his arrival after the previous election. The young Missouri Attorney General had made his bones as a prosecutor in St. Louis, displaying a talent for demagoguery and rabble- rousing that impressed the old New Jersey senator. And a fortuitous assassination attempt on the eve of the election virtually guaranteed his already likely victory. And it made good material for his frequent diatribes arguing for more restrictions on firearms. Already on a couple of prestigious committees, his loyalty unquestionable, he could be a future Majority Leader, even if he was a little young. Colbert had four years left on his current term, and was debating retirement. That would put McCormick and fifty-five and him at seventy-five. He liked the idea of retiring, and figured he would get McCormick through even if he was young and a one-termer. "Well, Erskine," he said. "It's shaping up to be a good year. I'd say from here on it's pretty much a matter of reaping the rewards. Any chance of opposition is gone for good now, and this term is just confirming it. We can write our own tickets now, and there's nothing between us and all we want, of whatever we want." "I'm certain you're right," said McCormick. "It's good to be here as it starts. Do you ever wish you were younger?" "Sometimes" Colbert laughed "but only because old age isn't much fun some days. Still, I'm in pretty good shape physically, and should have some good times in the years ahead. Not that the ones in the past haven't been good ones." "Are you thinking of retiring then?" McCormick asked. A waiter brought new drinks, and he took a sip before answering. "I'm seriously considering it," Colbert replied. "From the way it looks, the next four years will be even easier than this. No opposition, and no one to criticize, no matter what we do. The president will be, has he has been for the last two terms, a selection of the party. And the party will rule, in comfort and style. The Russians definitely had it right, as do the Chinese. As long as you play the game right, don't rock the boat, you'll have a great life." "I can certainly see that," said McCormick. "I always knew, young as I am, how things were going. I'm glad to be in. There were sacrifices along the way, at times, the the results are all that matter." "Speaking of sacrifices," said Colbert, "how are you feeling these days, physically?" "Quite well, thank you. The wheelchair can go soon, I think. I'll probably keep the cane for a while longer. I may have to, as I still have a slight limp, but the last surgery helped a lot." "I'm happy to hear that," Colbert said. "You won't be having any trouble being reelected now, as many times you wish. You're lucky to be so young, you can probably do just another two terms if you wish, and retire quite comfortably. And truthfully, being here is more and more like retirement all the time." They both laughed. Life was indeed good, McCormick thought, and he had arrived at just the right time. The money was already pouring in, and even the small speaking fees, the royalties from the ghostwritten book published just after his election, and in just two years the growth of his stock portfolio almost scared him. And he thought, it would only get better. He looked at his phone. If they left soon he could rendezvous with the young staffer from his hometown. She had worked on his campaign and had been rewarded for that, and more importantly her performance in bed, with a staff position. His wife who even before his rise had become rather indifferent about their relationship. Each of them pursued their own affairs, only getting together for photos and occasional business-related parties. She was well paid for a no-show job with a wealthy contributor and divided her time between the social scenes of DC and St. Louis. He hadn't seen her in several weeks and that was quite satisfactory. He wondered if she was enjoying life as much as he was. Colbert finished his drink and began to rise. "It's about time to go," he said as McCormick rose as well. "Are you going home in the morning?" "No," McCormick replied. "I'm going to spend a few days here, rest a little. There's nothing urgent at home." Colbert of course knew what McCormick would be doing. There were few secrets among the members, particularly as the gossip of their staffs took care of anything they neglected to share. "Well, then I guess we'll get together in a few weeks," he said. They walked toward the door, Colbert in front. Outside two men in light summer suits stood in the parking lot, a couple of feet apart, conversing. One was facing the door, the other had his back to it. As Colbert and McCormick exited the restaurant, about thirty feet away, the two men casually turned and headed towards them. Completely unaware of danger the two politicians closed the distance in seconds. At ten feet the men drew pistols from under their coats and, almost casually, each fired six shots into the center of one of the senators' chests. They crumpled to the pavement, the two shooters turning to jog towards the two cars approaching them. In seconds they were in and gone. The doorman had not seen what happened, and at the sound of the shots he turned, saw the men falling, and reached for the door handle, hurrying inside without a backward glance. The two cars quickly covered the two hundred feet to Carver Street, disappearing into the four lanes of traffic. Inside each car, the shooter replaced the empty magazine with a full one. In the unlikely event they had an encounter with the police, it wouldn't do to be short of ammunition. In a few minutes more they were on an entrance ramp to the freeway. It was several minutes before they saw a police car headed their way, likely to the scene of their hit, or perhaps one of the others occurring at about that time. |
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Chapter 52 -- VVZGVEMWRGREPOEYRTORFJCAV
General Mark Anthony grunted irritably as the phone buzzed. The only phone he kept by his bed was the presidential phone. It was the phone he didn't want to hear ring. If the president was calling him something was wrong. Actually something had been wrong for some time, and he knew he should never have accepted the appointment. But the two generals ahead of him had retired when the current chairman had begun to indicate he was about to go, and Anthony waited too long. If he didn't want the job he would have to decline the appointment, instead of just not being there. He had cursed himself numerous time over the past seven months. "Mr. President," he said, and waited. Normally the calls came from a member of the inner circle, and he wondered who had the unpleasant duty of being with the president tonight. The man was little better than an idiot, like the one before. A puppet, his every word and action was fed to him by someone in the inner circle who ran the country. At least he was not yet senile. "General Anthony. Here's the president." It was Jane Whittaker, the chief of staff. He despised her, but then most of the staff did as well. He wondered how she got there - someone, or more than one someone in the inner circle would have selected her. She wasn't especially bright, and not even up to par with the office politics. "Anthony," he said. "Hello. Sorry to disturb you." There was a pause, probably waiting for his next words. He pictured someone whispering them to him. Who? Come on you old fool, he thought. "Mark, I'm going to put Harry on, this is important." Harry Springfield was the Secretary of Defense. It figured. Some kind of threat, or actual incident. "General, we have a..." again a pause. What was he waiting for? He looked at his watch. 0336. "General, sorry, but there's no sense in trying to even start this on the phone. Get here as quickly as you can." "Situation room?" he asked. "Yes, please hurry." 'Please'? he thought. There was panic, Anthony thought. "Randy!" he called. Master Sergeant Randall Bowie was his batman. The aide quickly entered from the adjoining room where he slept, an old Colt .45 auto in his hand. He quickly scanned the room for a possible threat before lowering the gun. "White House," Anthony said. "Urgent. Give me a couple of minutes." He disappeared into the bathroom while Bowie began laying out a fresh uniform. A quick run of his electric razor and a rinse with mouthwash, followed by several rinses with water - he didn't want the smell to advertise that he had delayed for even a few minutes - and he was getting into the uniform. His aide helped him get make the necessary adjustments and they headed downstairs. This must be big, he thought. Everyone he saw on the way to the situation room looked tense, some even frightened. Inside, most of the staff and a number of administration officials were already at the long conference table that faced a wall of television screens. A quick glance as he approached showed a number of news broadcasts underway. "Mark." It was Springfield, motioning to a seat beside the president. The head of Homeland Security sat in the next chair. He sat down. "Mark, this looks serious," Springfield said, not waiting for the president to say anything. Not that he would have anything useful to say anyway, Anthony thought. If a decision had to be made they would make it and then tell him what to say. Or load it on the teleprompter if there was time. Springfield took the seat next to him and pointed towards the television screens. "Mark, tonight around seven forty five we got a report of a shooting involving a member of Congress. That would be alarming any time, but less that five minutes later we got another call. We thought at first it was the same one, but it wasn't. From that point on it was a stream of calls from all over the city, one after another, congressmen and senators being shot at various places, most of them leaving restaurants or other places." He looked at Anthony, a look of fear, terror even. It's on me, he thought. And look at what I've got to work with. "All right, Harry," he said, pulling a notepad across the table and poising his pen. "Start with the first call, who, when, where." "At around 7:45, as I said, Dean at Homeland Security got a call from Metro. A shooting at Benito's over off Maryland. They had tentatively identified the two victims as.." he paused as if not wanting to believe what he was about to say "Speaker of the House Harrison and Henry Wortman, chairman of the Ways and Means committee." Anthony almost let out a low whistle but silenced it. His heart had taken a jump and didn't want to settle down. He invoked the controls he had learned in his years of martial arts practice, controlling breathing, clearing and ordering his mind as if for combat. "OK," he said, making notes. "What next?" "Here's a log of the calls so far," Springfield said, handing him some papers. There were three pages. He began to scan them. Springfield interrupted. "On the second page you'll find the one involving Senate Majority Leader Colbert. And a junior senator named Erskine McCormick. A new arrival from Missouri. We don't know if he was a target or just had the bad luck to be with Senator Colbert. As with Harrison - we suspect she was the primary target." Anthony concentrated on control as he worked through the pages, tallying the incidents and number of bodies for each one. He was unsure but it looked like seventeen incidents, most with one or two victims, some uncertain. Someone had just perpetrated a massive attack on the United States government, without the slightest hint of warning from anywhere. And it did not appear to be over, he saw as a fourth page was handed to him. "What are we doing for the President's security?" he asked. "We have about two dozen additional agents inside the White House," Dean Jordan of Homeland Security replied, "and another thirty something more on the grounds. We're prepared to go to the PEOC if necessary, and Marine One is standing by to come in and get him out if we have to, to Raven Rock, we're thinking." Anthony gave the president a brief glance as he turned back to Springfield. "Good," he said. "At this point this is as safe as any. Has there been any activity in this area or the Capitol." "No," Jordan replied. "It's been almost unnaturally quite all summer in the area." "Too quiet, I should think," Anthony said. "Something like this will have been cooking for a long time. All right, let's get a coherent assessment. Dean, you and Harry, let's get a table where we can work, let's get some order to this." He turned to look for Whittaker, then turned to the president. "Mr. President, you might want to get some sleep. Whatever happens, by 0700 or so, at the latest, we're going to be covered up with news people. You'll have to make an appearance fairly early - this is big, very big." Whittaker moved toward the president, who stood and walked out with her. He had never been anything but a mouthpiece - the least they could do was make him look like he was alive and cognizant. Anthony didn't like giving orders to the civilian staff, but he was the one they were all looking at for salvation. The only man with any military experience was Jordan. "Dean," he said, "can you get someone over here to keep us updated? Number of incidents, number of casualties if known. Let's keep it as up to the minute as we can." Seated between the Defense and Homeland Security chiefs, Anthony began to write on a notepad. He wrote '1945' and turned to the staffer sent over to monitor updates. "What's the time on the latest incident?" he asked. The young man, who looked as if he was barely out of college, shuffled several pages, scanning them for a minute or so. "Sir, the latest time we have at this point is about 10:15." He wrote '2215' below the first entry. Right at three hours, and those were the times the reports had arrived. "What's the total number of incidents?" he asked. "It looks like twenty-three, sir. That's based on the locations, twenty-three different locations - there are multiple reports for most of them." Anthony wrote '0336' under the other two numbers. The incidents appeared to have occurred in three hours and ended five hours before they called him. He wrote the number '23' to the side of the times. "What's the casualty count," he asked. "Confirmed dead." "I've got forty-eight, sir." "And total casualties?" "Forty-eight, sir." He wished the kid would drop the superfluous 'sirs'. Two or three at the beginning was sufficient, after that efficiency was more useful. He wrote the number '48' with the others, beginning to feel uneasy. In about three hours someone, a number of someones obviously, had killed forty-eight people. Probably less than three hours, as it would taken some time to respond to all he calls, call in reports. And every one a kill - it was done by professionals. And how many damned professionals would that take? Two or three per incident most likely meant multiple shooters. And probably getaway cars, in this kind of environment. That would mean drivers. Where did the money come from, for an operation like that, assuming the number of suitably proficient shooters were available. He didn't like where this was heading. "Do we have IDs on all the casualties?" he asked. "Not yet, sir. We've got about six, seven names missing. Shall I see if there's anything new?" "Please do," Anthony said "And where possible, their titles, job description, whatever they have on them." The kid scurried away. It was already ugly and he was fairly certain it was about to get worse. The majority leaders of both houses of Congress had just been done in, along with two additional legislators who may have been collateral damage, or just bonus points. He suspected the later, and expected most of the remaining identities to be those of their colleagues. The cabinet secretaries beside him sat silently, waiting for his reaction. He knew they had absolutely no ideas - while the military and intelligence services routinely played every scenario they could conceive, this was not one. The scenario of a presidential assassination was of course examined regularly, as well as mass casualty events. But mass a casualty was usually played out as something involving bombs, chemical agents, or perhaps mass shootings in one or perhaps multiple locations. And those could be expected to leave some traces, even in an armed attack it was likely some attackers would be apprehended or killed. There were no traces here, yet. The young man returned with some more papers, one of them a relatively coherent list from a computer printer. He scanned it briefly. "Make copies for the secretaries," he said. As he waited for the copies, the gnawing unease in him continued to grow. He wasn't familiar with a lot of the names, but he guessed they were mostly, or all, of the party controlling the government. One of the reasons he regretted he had not rejected the appointment was his contempt for the entirety of the government. The complete control of the government, now beyond any possibility of challenge, had accelerated the decay. He had wondered if in his lifetime a purge of the armed forces, including former leaders, would be undertaken. The past several administrations had accomplished it largely through policies that led most of the decent leaders to retire, if they weren't fired outright. He was one of the last, if not the last. And now the government he had come to despise was looking to him for salvation. The kid returned and handed over the copies, and he waited while the secretaries read them. Eventually they looked over at him, expressions grim. He wondered if he would even be able to get any productive reaction from them. By now their only thoughts were for their own personal survival, political and literal. He wasn't sure they realized yet how serious it was. "Who else do we need?" he asked them. "Secretary of State, Attorney General? We don't need the entire cabinet." "Attorney General, certainly," Jordan replied. "And the DNI. And we should the the chief of staff back in here so she knows what's going on. Someone will have to prepare the president." "All right, then," said Anthony. "Let's get them and get started." He looked at the kid. "And have an updated list made for all of us." After the others had arrived, Anthony sat facing the others in a circle. He gave the newcomers an opportunity to review the information. When all of them had stopped reading and looked at him, he began. "This is probably going to be the most serious event ever to occur, including 9-11," he said. "Not as much death and destruction, yet, but this looks bad, extremely bad. I hope I'm wrong, but it doesn't look good." All of the faces were expressionless, but betraying signs of fear, near terror. And well they should, he thought. He already had suspicions that frightened even him. "As you can see," he said, "there are descriptions of twenty-three incidents, with a total of forty-eight dead. Notice I did not say how many wounded. We have, at this time, no reports of anyone shot and only wounded. Think about that for a second. Forty-eight people killed in twenty-three incidents. While we do not yet have descriptions of the perpetrators, I would guess that each one required at least two shooters and at a minimum one getaway driver. In an operation as precise as this, it was probably more. Possibly several hundred were involved, not one has been caught. "That suggests that a considerable number of people, and almost certainly a great deal of money was expended on this operation. The complete surprise, precision, and as far as we can determine at this time, a clean getaway. Make that getaways. A lot of them. In the past, perpetrators have usually been caught rather easily for a variety of reasons - because they were amateurs, were suicidal and didn't care if they were killed or caught, because they talked about it before doing it. I suspect it will not be so easy this time." He paused, still the circle of blank expressions remained. He was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to get a response, even a foolish one, when the Attorney General finally spoke. Attorney General Frank Simmons was not someone he knew much about, his interest was in defense. He knew from the usual gossip that he had been instrumental in prosecuting some enemies of a powerful senator in whose state he resided, which seemed about right. They were all here because of their connections, favors owed, or any of the other usual reasons. "First of all, General," he said, "we've all had time to go over the names, and every one is a member of Congress. So at least the motive is no mystery." "Is it?" Anthony asked. "Killing forty-eight members of Congress, was obviously the objective, but why?" "It can only be, as someone said, politics by other means." "Clausewitz's definition of war," Anthony said. "What sort of war? Someone kills a large number of members of Congress - not enough to change the balance of power, by the way, even if all were replaced by members of the opposing party - so what does that suggest?" "If we presume the discontented groups that remain realize that," said Simmons, "and I would think they do, it could be a final act of defiance, and revenge." "Possibly," said Anthony, "but consider this. In the past such attacks, almost always based on fringe politics, sometimes religion, whatever they may be, are again always poorly planned and executed, and the usual reasons for getting caught apply. This level of professionalism, the tight operation, the amount of preparation that must have been necessary, argues against that." "Anti-government types, especially white supremacists, we still have those on the radar," said Simmons. I'm sure you do, Anthony thought. Anti-government could include half the population, and he knew that white racist groups were so few and small they couldn't finance a decent beer bash. The FBI occasionally found a few rustic types with bad attitudes and encouraged them to act out one of their fantasies, usually having to infiltrate an agent provocateur or two to get them to do it. He sometimes cringed inwardly at the things people like Simmons said, in part because of the stupidity and partly because he might actually believe it. He took a diplomatic approach. He had an idea, one he didn't like, but feared it might be correct, and it was saving these people wasn't going to be easy. "I doubt one of them could pull off anything like this," he said. "Those are small, not very organized, certainly not well funded. I'm not certain that we have yet conceptualized what sort of operation this might be." "You don't think someone has pulled some of them together?" Simmons asked. "Perhaps several groups, possibly allied with some of the fundamentalist cults. Those people are always thinking the end of the world is coming, and they have nothing to lose." I'd like nothing better than to throttle you right now, Anthony thought. But for now at least, I do still have something to lose. The chief of staff was blankly staring randomly at the others for a few seconds at a time, the movement of her eyes and occasionally her head the only indication she was conscious. The Director of National Intelligence came to his rescue. Alice Lawson was not someone he had ever crossed paths with before taking the job. Now it was a frequent, and unpleasant duty. She had been a professor of international studies at one of the ivy league schools and he never could remember which one. He didn't especially care as long as the subject never came up in conversation. He always ended up dealing with one of her underlings anyway. Now she was on the hot seat, as were the others, and if the situation was not so serious he would have enjoyed their discomfort. "This would seem to be a strictly domestic matter," she said, "but the possibility of foreign actors cannot be overlooked. We should have brought Bob in on this." Bob was Robert Barwick, Secretary of State since the beginning of the president's first term. He was a crony of several of the senior members of Congress, some of whom were now dead, Anthony realized. This was going to be interesting. "We should call him in now," Anthony asked. "Does anyone know if he's here?" "I don't believe he is," Simmons replied. "We should alert him, at least." The chief of staff used her phone to call him. They waited until the conversation was done before continuing. "He's on the way," she said. It was getting near the time most of them got up anyway. "Do we treat this as a domestic matter for now?" Anthony asked. "Pending the State Department investigation getting underway." He wanted this to be a full scale operation under the direction of whomever the president, or his handlers, selected as soon as possible. It should start out under the Justice Department anyway, and if it later involved international players the State Department and intelligence agencies could be brought in. He wanted no part of shepherding this affair. "I believe so," Simmons said. "It involves crimes against the federal government. "Jane, I believe it's in the president's hands. It's already past five. And the news people have been all over it all night. When the country wakes up it will be pandemonium. We've got a busy day ahead." If only you knew, Anthony thought. You've got a lot of busy days ahead. |
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Chapter 53 -- SDYHKIUGDVTOP
Carter and Jessica were up early, watching the news over a quick breakfast of toaster pastries and coffee. It had been a late night at her father's house, but there was no way to sleep late now. The one news channel that still had something close to real news was on, and the events of the previous night were the only thing being covered. He suspected it would be for days to come. The final body count appeared to be forty-eight, which was close to what had been expected. Two missions were scrubbed because the targets disappeared as they were being followed, and their destination was unknown. Both had been caused by traffic accidents that had prevented the teams from staying with them. Several people would never know how lucky they had been. They watched as another official came on to be interviewed. He was a DC police spokesman and fielded about a half dozen questions before being replaced by yet another guest. The morning would likely be, as probably the entire day, a non- stop parade of guests dispensing their particular bits of commentary for a few minutes before moving on. Clearly many of them were enjoying it, there was more than enough attention to keep them happy for days. They had been up until almost three, and the strong black coffee would probably be imbibed regularly throughout the morning. After watching a tearful staffer who had seen her boss shot from just a few feet away, they decided to head over to Donald's house. Tommy and James had not yet arrived, and they sat with Donald in his office. With Gordon having relocated to a safe place, along with Mary and Dalton, they were alone in the big house. Donald updated them on his conversations with others in the League. "I'm still a little numb just now," he said. "After what went down last night, it's hard to believe it's done. Three years of planning - more actually - but three since the decision was made to move if we had to, made that happen." "How are the teams?" asked Jessica. "On the way back to their bases," Donald replied. "We won't have a full report until late tonight, maybe tomorrow. I'm going over to the office shortly, there should be quite a few messages to work through." The office was the small law office in Chillicothe, which was always closed. A computer in the office was a secure endpoint to a complex network that allowed secure messages to be exchanged at a point unconnected with the freehold. If it was compromised it could be abandoned with little chance of it being traced to the freehold. They watched the ongoing commentary, occasionally on one of the other channels where the government line was always followed. The government needed to 'get the army out and round up those people' was a frequent opinion. As to who ' those people' were, the general consensus was that they were militias, religious cults, white supremacists, and 'anti-government' types for the most part. Occasionally a guest suggested sweeping the country from one end to the other, interrogating every single citizen. Tommy and James arrived, and they continued watching the news and the program streaming on their favorite patriot channel. They had news as up-to-date as the regular media, usually better. The underground resistance channels were congested with traffic. For the most part they contained only speculation and questions, a sign that the true nature of the operation remained, for the time, unknown to any outsiders. Donald left for the office in town, a twenty minute trip each way, and he would probably be spending some time sending and receiving new messages. The others watched the news and discussed the events. "They got your man," Tommy said. Carter knew he was referring to Erskine McCormick, the man who had put him in prison. "I suspect he was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Carter replied. "A first- term senator from Missouri shouldn't have been high on the list. Apparently he was with the Majority Leader, who was at the top. He was extra points." "Most likely," Jessica said. "He was definitely trying to make a reputation early, in on everything from gun confiscation to taking home-schooled children away from their parents. The epitome of a demagogue, he probably doesn't believe a word he says. Or didn't." "Well," said Carter, "he deserved what he got, if not worse. He made me understand evil. Seeing that it exists, and what it looks like. And if in the end he was just collateral damage, not important enough to be a primary target but still got it, even better." "And we used him as a test run for organizing our operations," Jessica said. "I understand you once wanted to kill him yourself, looking him in the eye. But if you wanted revenge this is better. Not that it was important to you, after a while." "No," he said. "I learned that there were more important things." "James," she said, "was another important test. You and he were the only live tests before now, in terms of carrying out actual operations. This operation was tested a lot before, but what went down yesterday was the real thing. When Dad gets back we should have some idea of how it went in that respect." "We should probably get some lunch," Tommy said. "Donald should be back before long - you want to call and check? James and I can go for pizza." "Sure, good idea," Jessica said. She called and they spoke briefly. "He should be leaving in a half hour or so," she said. "All right," said Tommy, "that's about right for us to get to town, the the pizzas and get back. See you in a while." That they were too far out for delivery wasn't a problem, in fact they didn't want delivery vehicles coming out - being unnoticed was important. They continued watching the news, with few if any new developments. It seemed as if the killers had appeared from nowhere, done their work and vanished to the same place. At times it seemed surreal, as if it were something in a dream. What they had done was so massive it probably would not be believed if it were known. The talk, now no more than speculation about what happened and reactions to it, was largely the same on all the news channels. Most of the theories involved domestic terrorism, but the source was debated. The usual suspects were invoked repeatedly but that soon became dull, so the talk turned to how to find the perpetrators. It didn't take long for the talk to turn to the need for gun control, but as was increasingly the case, the need for more surveillance and control of movement. The ability of people to travel at will with no accountability, a guest argued, was an invitation to such terrorist acts. More surveillance, more control of travel and transportation, a national ID card, even passports for travelling within the country - all of this and more were pontificated upon by what seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of supply of guests. "They don't know how close to the truth they are on some of that," Carter said. "We would have had a much harder time if they got all of that in place." "A double-edged sword, our success," Jessica said. "Now they're in a panic, and are likely to do anything." A light on a panel near the door indicated someone had entered the house. Carter pulled the Springfield .45 from its crossdraw holster and stood to face the door, Jessica behind him placed her hand on the Springfield XDM-40 in its belt holster. It was probably Donald or Tommy and James. "Anyone home?" It was Donald. "In he office," Jessica called. Carter holstered the gun. In a few moments Donald entered the room. "Tommy and James went for pizza," Jessica said. "You probably haven't had lunch." "No," he replied. "I didn't want to stop until we were through. We had quite a bit to go over." "Is it good, bad, or ugly?" she asked. "Mostly good," he replied. "In fact, in spite of a couple of problems, it looks very good - so far." The light came on again, and they heard Tommy's voice outside. "Come and get it," he called. They got up and went to the dining room. They opened the boxes and got the meal underway before any conversation. After a while Tommy asked "How did it go?" "I'd say quite well," Donald replied. "Of course, the operation is one thing, and the long term prospects are another." The dining room had always had a large television screen at one end, where everyone at the large table could see it. It was on now, the sound down, and all of them, especially Donald, looked up at it frequently. Deciding to continue the conversation there for the moment, he continued. "The statistics from last night are unchanged. By the time we went to bed it had been over, as far as we were concerned, for several hours. By midnight the information they had was stable, but of course they wouldn't know it. As far as we know, as of when I started back, there were only two serious problems. At least potentially serious - it remains to be seen. "All the teams successfully egressed, anything left behind, such as disposable vehicles, was completely clean. And as you know, we left a few red herrings. With us leaving no traces and the false clues readily available, they should be distracted for a while. In addition, they'll create plenty of wild geese on their own - we've already seen the gravitation to various groups, real or imagined. Even though they know the racist, anti-government, religious cult, and other cliches are mostly manufactured for political use, in time they may begin to believe them. That's likely to be reinforced now." "And the way it looks," Carter said, "they seem to be about to go full-bore in that direction. I wonder how long it will last before they realize they're wrong." "I would suspect," said Donald, "that it may take a while, but they're going to be under incredible pressure to show some results. What they do when they can't figure it out, that's hard to say. Right away, probably arrest a whole lot of people on minor offenses or completely made-up charges, and hold them and try to get something out of them. Of course, they'll have nothing to give, some of them will try making up something or pointing to someone else, whatever works. A lot more wild geese. If we haven't had any leaks, they'll be running around like headless chickens. The confusion will do us a lot of good." "You mentioned a couple of problems," Carter said. "Yes," Donald replied. "Actually only one potential problem. A cop was shot and killed in one of the hits. Just a statistical risk, with that many hits, in a city like DC, a cop showed up at just the wrong time. He was engaged by one of the shooters and went down, and we learned later he was dead. "It was always a risk, and we were lucky it only happened once. Or twice, in terms of cops showing up. In the other case, it was our man who got it. He's in custody, and we're watching it closely. Luckily it's the only thing we have to deal with, so it may work out." "Anything on his condition?" asked Jessica. "Just what the news has, and that's not much. Just that he's in the hospital, under guard, of course." "What does the worst case look like," she asked. "In a situation like ours, anyone's guess. Worst case, at least to start, is that he's relatively undamaged physically and they get him out of the hospital and into police custody soon. Then they start interrogating him. Of course, he's lawyered up already. We have legal assets - they don't know anything about what we really do but they're well paid and do some occasional work - they'll take care of it for a while. They simply tell them he refuses to talk, and at any attempt at interrogation the lawyer will tell him not to answer every time. That can buy us days, and we don't plan on him being there that long. "And of course the ID he had, like all of the operatives, is for one of our carefully constructed fake identities, leading them nowhere. When they investigate, they'll find he's Joe Sixpack from Jefferson Alabama and works for a trucking company, something like that. They'll eventually figure out it's false but it won't tell them who he really is. Even if his fingerprints or DNA are available, and they find his real identity no knows where he is except his comrades. But it's not likely to get that far." "Are we planning to extract him, and can we?" asked Jessica. "Eventually," replied Donald. "If he's awake and cognizant, he'll be able to string them along for quite a while. Longer than it will take to extract him. The only real danger is if he's unconscious he might give away clues, or if they become desperate they might try drugs - without the knowledge of his lawyer, obviously. That might reveal something, but should have him out by then." "We have people inside the DC police?" asked Carter. "No. Be nice if we did. We would have to catch him being transported, to court, a doctor, something like that. The only way they can hold him securely is to put him in a cell under 24/7 guard and never let him out. So it's not likely to be a major problem. "Other than that, the operation was completely successful. We had scrub three hits because the pieces didn't fall into place, but that was unexpected. We were surprised it wasn't more." "What's the status of the operatives?" Carter asked. "Some are not back to base yet, due to the nature of the transport arrangements. But all are accounted for, and we don't foresee any." "We've just started a war," Jessica said. "What happens next?" "Now, we wait" Donald replied. "Our analysts are monitoring the reaction. Our plan has always been to contact the government after the first strike, to see if any kind of dialogue can be established. The question of how soon was left open. What we're doing now is making that determination. But at some point, fairly soon, we will send a communication to the government - specifically the president and all members of Congress, the live ones at least - stating our demands. It's unlikely that we will get a useful response, but a communication channel will be offered, and if they accept then we'll talk. Obviously they're not going to comply, and at that point the war will be on. A paper similar to the one we distributed on Monday will be distributed, in the same quantities, nationwide. It will show the offer we made to the government, and the statement that it was rejected. "At that point, further actions will be taken. Our only possibility for success, or even survival, is in a successful campaign." "What is the next step?" asked Tommy. "Once the notice has been distributed, a few days later, there will be an attack on infrastructure. At this point the plan is to cut Chicago off. Highways and railroads. Not only is it one of the worst, maybe the worst, of the cities for crime, but like most of the cities - all of them in fact - it depends on a non- stop flow of the most basic necessities. "While people in the suburbs probably have enough food for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, the bulk of the population doesn't. Once the trucks and trains, trucks especially, stop, you have chaos in a few days at most. Think about what happens when hurricanes, earthquakes, other disasters damage the infrastructure of an area. And if there's no prospect for relief, you can't get supplies in, it will be very bad very soon. And as we have some ability to hit the water and electricity, we can make enough misery in one place to make a lot of people uncomfortable. We'll have to see how it progresses from there." They continued watching the news and talking until it was time for dinner. Later they took a final look at the situation and decided that there would not be much in the way of developments that day. "You kids might as well go get some sleep," Donald said. "We'll pick it up in the morning." Carter and Jessica went home and sat with glasses of wine while watching the television for another hour or so, until they were sufficiently tired to go to sleep. He had wondered if he would be able to sleep easily - last night he had been worn out and had no trouble sleeping. As it turned out, tonight was no more difficult. |
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Chapter 54 -- OXKKVKLMEFCL
Grant Page sat with the other committee members sat around a table in their headquarters. They had gathered there the previous night after the news of the killings in the nation's capitol broke. They had watched well into the night, going home well after midnight when the flow of fresh news ceased. Since the warning the previous week by their mysterious visitor, they had been waiting for Friday, and while not surprised by it its incredibly bold, perhaps even reckless nature was somewhat unsettling. They watched the morning updates and the beginning of what would no doubt be endless discussion and analysis by innumerable pundits. The only thing missing so far was any indication that the authorities had any useful information. "I admit I don't know what I was expecting," he said. "But this, it certainly wasn't this." "It's unquestionably ballsy," Douglas said. "I guess in time we'll see whether or not it was wise." "It seems to show considerable confidence on the part of whoever is responsible," Bill said. "And considerable resources. I don't know what it took, forty or so killings in about twenty locations around the city, getting the men it place and getting them out afterwards. And all in about what, three or four hours. And not a sign of who did it." "As far as anyone knows," said Grant. "I guess we'll see what the speech looks like. If they're smart, which they aren't, they would not say what they have, if anything. It should be interesting." A large map on the television screen showed a street map of the capitol, with the White House, Congress, and some other landmarks were marked with circles, while a number of red dots was scattered around the surrounding area. A chyron indicated that the president would be addressing the nation, with a countdown graphic. The time was 11:29, that would be the Eastern time zone, an hour ahead of them. The speech would commence in about fifteen minutes. "This should be interesting," Bill said. "That old fool can barely get through a handful of softball questions. With this much time to prepare they will have already prepared the questions they'll answer and handed them out to the press. I wonder what will happen of one of them goes off script." "They won't let that happen," said Arthur, "unless I'm seriously overestimating their competence, which is possible. He should have been out here two hours ago, at least." "They'll probably avoid questions," Bill said. "Have the president make the usual outraged statement, promise to bring the perpetrators to justice, and turn it over to the Attorney General, or Homeland Security." "Most likely," Douglas agreed. "They're not much better, but they won't fall asleep or wander away in the middle of it." The countdown finally completed. The president was introduced and began to read the speech. "My fellow Americans, I come before you with a heavy heart. By now you will have heard the awful news of last night's events. As I am sure many of you, perhaps most of you did, as I watched with horror first one, and then another, and then more and more reports of the contemptible, cowardly, and despicable crimes occurring in our nation's capitol. And many of you, no doubt, wept in dismay and revulsion as you learned of the heinous murders of a number of the nation's leaders in a series of terrorist attacks. "It is clear that this was a calculated attack aimed at the heart of our government. All of the victims were members of the United States Congress, clearly an attempt to disrupt the functioning of the government. It will not succeed. The Department of Homeland Security, the Justice Department, and every available resource is being directed at the effort to find and apprehend these perpetrators, and an intensive search is underway even as I speak to you. "We will not rest until these evildoers are apprehended and brought to justice. This great nation will not be cowed by terrorists, whatever their origin. We have never failed to rise to meet any challenge and we will not fail now. "I am now going to have the Secretary of Homeland Security brief you and answer any questions you may have. Secretary Jordan." Dean Jordan came to the microphone and delivered essentially a couple of the standard statements, taking only a few minutes before inviting questions. "This ought to be interesting," Grant said. Aside from a somewhat surrealistic air to the proceedings and the completely uncharted territory they were in, the question and answer session was relatively ordinary. Did you have any warning? Should this have been expected? Do you have any suspects? What sort of organization might have done this? The questions would have been vetted and assigned to the various members of the audience beforehand, but the last was of course a setup for the main thrust of the event. The most likely suspects were of course anti-government organizations, with the obligatory mention of racist, white supremacists, and fundamentalist religious cults for good measure. There was no mention of foreign players, and the fact that no question was asked about told them how the investigation would proceed. As the procession of guest pundits and experts began, Grant looked over at the others. Arthur picked up the remote and lowered the volume. "Well," he said, "that' pretty much what we expected. I suppose not considering foreign players is to be expected, given the targets. One interesting thing, and should be to them, is why there was no apparent threat to the president. The question was asked, whether it was in the script I don't know, and he said there had been no indications of any attempt. I wonder if they have any idea why." "They probably think it's because the presidential security couldn't be penetrated in that manner," Grant said, "which is true, but I don't believe it's the reason." "Are you thinking what I am?" Gerald asked. "They want to bring the government down, but leave the president in place? Not because it matters who the president is, and they will be negotiating with him. Or the puppet masters, thus even more reason why it doesn't matter." "You break the government, make them negotiate," Arthur said. "I wonder what their demands will be." "What they most likely want," Douglas said, "is some sort of reform. Reform being the discontinuation of various actions and policies. And some action to ensure they don't happen again. But it would take a lot to put the government in that position." "Yeah," said Grant. "Particularly this one. It's now firmly in the control of people determined to make it the next Russia. Or China or the worst of both. Trying to envision what it would take, doesn't look pretty. We're lucky to be in a position, if indeed we are, where another nation can't attack and take us over." "We could be weakened enough that China or Russia could," said Arthur. "I would guess Russia wouldn't, given the damage they could incur even if successful. And China is probably still counting on being able to buy us." "If you're right about their intentions," said Arthur, "you're certainly right that it won't be done easily. I wonder if the strategy is to turn the screws, one step at a time, until the government capitulates. If so I'd hate to see what the next steps are." "Yeah. What happened yesterday was unbelievable," Gerald said. "It's still hard to process. When you think about not only what they did - something unthinkable to the average person, just something that no one would think of happening." "So to be effective," said Bill, "whatever they do next will have to top that. And several iterations may be required." "I don't know if they'd have to top it, or what that would look like," Arthur said. "But it will have to be something different. They can't hit Washington again. The place will be an armed camp, and the government people, when they go outside, will be under heavy security." "So no one can get close to them," Bill said. "But what if they're served their purpose and are no longer needed. The, what, let's call them rebels, have shown that they can do it and more to the point have sown fear into the enemy ranks, a fear that will affect their reactions. Suppose the remainder of their attacks are targets outside the capitol, outside the government even." "Attacking the country," said Arthur. "I'm thinking infrastructure, that term they like so much. Every new Congress has to have an infrastructure bill, which does little if anything for the infrastructure but hands out gifts to the party faithful, which is pretty much the whole government now. Anyway, the roads and bridges, railroads, airports. How much of that is vulnerable?" "Most of it," Gerald said. "If they were able to make a really big dent, serious disruption, that would cause some real problems. It would make the people very unhappy as well." "Exactly," said Douglas. "Let's see what he have so far: a terrified government, paralyzed for some time by fear. Not to mention having nearly fifty legislators to replace. It could take months for anything to get done. All they can do is try to figure out who's doing it and stop it." "The bad laws that caused this are already in place," said Grant. "So they don't need the legislature. It's all in the hands of the executive." "I wonder if this first strike, and I suspect that is what it was, was just the first shot to get the war going, and serve notice that they're serious," Bill said. "Now that the war is underway, what. The government will be trying to find out who did it and catch them. Meanwhile..." "Meanwhile," said Arthur, "if the rebels are as smart and well equipped as this action suggests, they hit something else. If the government hasn't solved the first one yet, they'll be getting behind fast." "Here's the problem they might have," Bill said. "Our visitor, Brad. If I had to guess I would say we're not the only place he's visited. He asked about our neighbors, and there are other places like this around. Quite a few these days." "So we have the government off balance to say the least," Gerald said. "And maybe about to get hit again, any day. Meanwhile you've got people like us, they've been in contact with us, which suggests they may have plans. Now, you remember.. "he reached for a paper on the table "this. We first saw it about, it was the day Brad came the first time. Apparently they showed up all over the country at that time. Millions, all identical. Who could manage an operation like that?" "Perhaps one that could do what happened in DC yesterday," said Grant. The five men sat silently for a few moments, looking up at the television. A 'BREAKING NEWS' image filled the screen suddenly. Arthur reached for the remote and raised the volume just as the face of a young woman appeared, speaking at what seemed to be more urgent than the usual urgency. "..we go to Katherine Chandler in the nation's capitol. Katherine." "Yes, Diane. I've just left a briefing by the Justice Department. We got an update on the ongoing investigation." "Do we have any new developments?" the woman apparently named Diane asked. "Essentially it was just an hourly update," Katherine replied. "The Deputy Attorney General gave us some information on where the investigative efforts are being directed at this time." "Did he comment on the rumors about a suspect being detained?" "Yes he did, Diane. Apparently that rumor was not accurate. They do not have anyone in custody at this time." "Do they have any persons of interest?" "Not any specific individuals," Katherine said. "They are looking at a number of organizations around the country, some which have been suspected of involvement in anti-government activities." "OK, thank you Katherine," Diane said and Katherine disappeared from her side of the screen, to be replaced by a rather non-descript man in a suit. Arthur turned the volume back down. "Interesting," Arthur said. "Normally, I'd think if they had someone in custody they'd say so, but they might be smart enough to keep it under wraps for a while. Whether they're that smart..." "They've done a lot of damage to all the law enforcement agencies," said Bill. "Not just the leadership, but all the way down. They've been running off the good ones for ten, fifteen years now and the leadership is useless to begin with. Same with the big city PDs, and a lot of the state police. I'd be surprised if they can mount a successful investigation." "Which means is they'll start making raids on some of the enclaves they already have their eye on," Grant said. "Arrest a few, or maybe a lot of them, and lock them up the way they've been doing with dissenters. They just disappear, held without bail indefinitely. "And that buys them time. Even if they can't find anything, they've now got an appearance of doing something. Interest will fade, and in a week or two at most it will be a short segment once or twice a day. And if nothing else comes up, it may even remain either unsolved or put to rest with a few scapegoats being sent up. That's if nothing else happens." "I'm guessing you think they won't be so lucky," Gerald said. "Fairly certain," said Grant. "Let's wargame a bit. I guess we all agree this isn't a one-time deal. Something else is going to happen, probably more than one. So we're sitting here, the feds are chasing whatever they can think of to fix this. The first thing we have to consider is that we're on the radar. Our neighbors already are as well. Even without this, they'll be going around to find out what happened to the home-schooled children that didn't show up at the public schools this year. And now this. We need to be ready. "But on top of all that, and this, suppose the next blow falls. Whatever it is, federal buildings getting bombed, highway and railroad bridges being destroyed, utility lines and distribution stations being hit - any number of things that are almost impossible to defend even if you know they're targets. "You let a major city or two get cut off from food for a few days and it will be chaos. Turn off the water and electricity, they don't even dare think about it. More resources are diverted to dealing with that. "Now, in the middle of all that, whoever this organization is - is joined by the numerous outfits like us, going free-lance, carrying out whatever they've been planning. And once a few of them have already been raided, killed, imprisoned for something they haven't done yet - they'll figure there's nothing to lose. I can see this getting bad fast." "We have to stay on top of this," Arthur said. "Gerald, we should have Jeff and the tech guys working on keeping us on top of this, let them know what the new parameters are. And we need to get prepared defensively, and see that our friends down the road do as well." |
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Chapter 55 -- NGEQSMXDPUZYRF
Carter and Jessica joined the others in Donald's office for the daily briefing. The second day after the operation was underway, and the spent an hour or so watching the news for any significant developments. There were none, at least none that interested them. There was the the expected press conference at the White House, with the Director of Homeland Security and the Attorney General assuring their audience that the investigation was proceeding and that they were confident of results in the near future, followed by the usual expected questions and canned responses. With on news of any consequence, Donald turned to updating the others. He had gone to the office in town early that morning, returning just after they had arrived, having a quick breakfast of little more than a toasted pastry and a cup of coffee. "Since our enemy doesn't have any news," he said, "let's go over what we have. We were pretty well up to date by last night, other than a final report on the teams. All are back to base, no casualties or prisoners other than the one we knew about last night. Our tech guys are sifting the information flow looking for any traces of a link to the League. If we think they've found something, we'll move to prevent if from spreading. Each freehold has contingency plans, from removing any evidence of their links to the League to completely vanishing, in those cases where it's possible." "Any word on the guy we lost?" asked Carter. "Not much. He's still in the hospital. Apparently he took a pretty good hit, just one shot but breaking a rib and perforating a lung. We've got a lawyer on it, he doesn't know anything about the League but he's well paid and knows what he's doing. They probably won't try the dirty tricks yet, like drugging him. Having our lawyer on top of if 24/7 should prevent that, or at least we'll know if they do. And he knows all he has to do is wait and we'll get him out. And he's got enough good stories to leak that will lead them on wild goose chases to stall for a while. They'll swallow anything that they think will confirm what they already believe, or what they profess to believe" "So we're waiting for, what?" Jessica asked. "Is our contact to happen before further action, is it already set?" "Yes, it is at least in terms of our intention to make contact, offer to talk, and see what happens. At this point we're waiting for the optimum time. We want them to try to figure something out, for a few days, and when they still have nothing we'll contact them. There are probably two likely scenarios. They may dismiss it as a hoax and do nothing, in which case we escalate. If they do contact us, we'll make our demands. Obviously they'll reject them, and we'll escalate." "And so we're enter phase two," said Jessica. "Infrastructure attacks. How does that go?" "We have a plan to cut off a major city," Donald replied, "as we've discussed. We disrupt traffic by cutting the interstate highways, railroads, and electrical and water supplies where possible. We're thinking of Chicago, but the decision is a couple of days off. But it will be accompanied by a series of unrelated actions around the country. We want the pain to be widely distributed." "Do we have any part to play?" Carter asked. "At this point a small one," Donald replied. "We're going to need quite a lot of explosives for this operation. We'll be shipping out some supplies in the next few days. More interestingly, we may be involved in extracting our man in DC. The Council was impressed by both of our test runs - extracting James and the hit on McCormick. We could be doing quite a lot of that if this goes on for a while. "And when we take our man out of DC, this could be a good place. He's from Turquoise Valley, and he can't go back there. If they connect him with the place they'll be all over it, and if he shows up anywhere - they'll have his DNA and fingerprints, and of course his picture will be all over the place in camera surveillance systems. And the chance that he can be recognized by one even with good disguises is too great. He may end up hiding out here, like James." "Or he might be able to do us some good from the inside," said Carter. "How's that?" Donald asked. "As you said, they'll believe anything if it reinforces what they already think. he's going to send them on a fool's errand, suppose it leads them to something real, only it's a trap." "What are you thinking?" "We're already in for a penny, as they say," Carter said. "It's a war now, and at some point those in the enemy camp, even if not with bad intentions, must decide whether to stay. If they remain, they're now the enemy, and will pay the price if they come up against us." "That will be in the declaration that follows the government's response." said Donald. "A notice will be issued to all law enforcement - not only federal but state and local agencies. If they assist the feds they will suffer the same consequences." "So we're in the clear if, let's say, our man fingers a group, maybe one they already know about. Of course they'll attack. In fact, given their predilection for theatrics, they'll probably give it a buildup. Announcements that they have a suspect, interviews with officials, hints of action to be taken soon, all that. Meanwhile our guys are preparing. Their plans for a grand triumph becomes a bloodbath. With their blood." "That could certainly work," said Jessica. "The temptation will be too great. And it's almost certain that they'll have plans for maximum exposure. Like they did at Waco back in the nineties, and some other places since then. Most of them worked out for them, but Waco was a major disaster. They invited all the press, had their communications set up ahead of time." "Even if they learned something from that," Carter said, "and they obviously didn't, they won't be able to resist. Our only problem is getting it just right." "That will be the trick," said Donald. "I'll have to clear it with the Council, of course, but it's a great opportunity and if we plan it right, they'll have no problem approving it." "So let's do a quick sketch," Carter said. "First, select a viable candidate. Not a League freehold, obviously, but an affiliate. Better yet, one of the groups we've been in contact with, preferably one that's already blood-thirsty. Maybe one that already has a score to settle." "OK," said Jessica, "once we have a candidate, and they're in agreement, we have our man put out the bait. How do we get the information to him? He'll need some knowledge of our partner-in-crime - at least who and where, maybe some details. He's going to be under close surveillance, and I'm not sure the lawyer we have in there now will go along with it, certainly if he knows what we're trying to do." "I believe I know how to handle that," Donald said. "We have one of our own. There are several freeholds who have lawyers as members. Once we get him out, it'll be easy. We'll hide him in plain sight." "The lawyer pretends to be trying to persuade him to cooperate," Jessica said. "Clever. And it could work, especially with this bunch. They'll be recording everything, even supposedly private conversations. If our lawyer will go along. You said he's not one of us." "I suspect he might," Donald said. "He's on our side philosophically even if You said he's not one of us. he isn't actively involved. And the law will be eager, desperate now. And whoever breaks this case can write his own ticket. I suspectly they'll fall for it." "So," Tommy said, "how do we get our man out? Or do we?" "Leave him in?" said Donald. "I'd leave it up to him," Tommy said. "It might not occur to them to suspect him when it blows up. After all, he gives them good info, the operation goes wrong it's not his fault. And if they think they figured it out themselves by getting the lead, at least initially, without him even knowing. He only gives them the information after they tell him what they've got." "You're right," Carter said. "I've been in a cell, and there's no worse feeling even when you know you'll get out some day. He doesn't know that. It should be his decision." "Definitely," said Donald. "And if he pulls this off, he deserves the rest of the war off. I doubt he'd take it though. "So how do we get him out?" asked James. "The way you extracted me was pretty impressive. If we can get him outside of wherever they're holding him, we should be able to move him to wherever he's going without too much problem." "If we can get him in the open, it won't be a problem." Donald said. "We're putting operatives into the area, well under cover. Even if they start setting up checkpoints and asking people for their papers - that may well happen - they can operate. And we've planned for that. "After we're done here I'll go back to the office and see if there's anything new. And I'll start setting up a meeting of the committee that will have to approve this. Full council meetings won't be happening much, if at all, for a while." "So we're looking at our contact with the government it the next few days," said Jessica. "And at whatever point we have a response, probably within twenty-four hours, phase two begins." "Right. After the response, we issue the public communique. It will explain the situation and serve notice to law enforcement and security forces that they are no longer exempt from having force used against them. Once they have had a few days to absorb that, operations will commence." "What are we likely to be doing?" asked Carter. "Supply, transportation?" "Some of both, I'm sure" Donald said. "There will be a lot of explosives and incendiaries being used, and we've got a lot stored here. We have a lot of thermite and tons of dynamite. Having air access makes that easier. And at some point, if it goes on long enough, our air capability will become more important. "Anyone got anything else?" he asked. No one did. "All right then. Why don't we get some lunch and I'll head over to the office. and we'll get together this evening." Later, Carter and Jessica walked around the grounds for a while before going home. Behind her grandfather's home a large grassy acreage dotted with trees not quite dense to block much of the sunlight but providing a place of quiet serenity in the late summer, already beginning to cool later in the day. Neither spoke much, holding hands and walking slowly, occasionally pausing near a tree for a while and then moving on. The contrast between the quiet of the place and what they knew was going on outside was not easy to envision. "You wish you could do more?" Jessica asked. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied. "I know what we're doing is important, and it's likely to become dangerous at some point, but when I think of those guys on the streets in DC, and the ones who'll be going out on operations next." "I understand. We've done a lot, and I'm sure we'll do more. But in any case, as someone said those who only stand and wait also serve." She put her arms around his neck and leaned forward, pressing him against the trunk of an old willow oak, it's prominent roots between their feet. They held each other for a while in silence, and then walked back to the house. |
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Chapter 56 -- HUWSSFIIHGQMIRSEPNBY
General Mark Anthony signed resignedly as his secretary appeared in the door of his office. "Thanks, Margaret," he said. "I'll just be a minute." She had developed the habit of walking to the door about five minutes before it was time to leave for a meeting. He had brought her with him when he accepted the post, from his former army command. She had worked for him for three years before, and now worried about him. The past days, since what was now being called 'Black Friday', had aged him. He was conscious of the fact that the long list historical events referred to as 'Black Friday' included the stock market crash and a presidential assassination, and wondered what this one had in store. He got up, put on his coat and picked up his briefcase. His driver delivered him to the White House, where he was swiftly ushered to the Situation Room. As usual the heads of Homeland Security and Justice were there, along with the Secretary of Defense, the Director of National Intelligence, the FBI director, and the heads of the NSA and CIA. Only a handful of others who were not Cabinet officers or agency heads were present. They were always the same - the content of these meetings was closely guarded. He was the last to arrive, and after the perfunctory greetings were over he opened his briefcase and pushed to one side. The Justice Department was in charge of the operation, but Anthony always found himself the object of most of the questions. Especially as nothing of use had yet been uncovered. The Attorney General went around the room for a report from each head. Anthony noted that there was nothing of substance, in fact no developments at all. A few exchanges between the various attendees yielded nothing else of use, so once again the all eyes turned to him as the AG addressed him. "General, is there anything you can add?" He had expected it, and with nothing new from the others he used one of the responses he had prepared. "As I understand it," he said, looking down at some papers he had placed in front of him purely for effect, "the only thing of substance we have at this point is the one participant who was arrested. Is that correct?" "That's it," the AG admitted. "Has the FBI been able to learn anything from the bullets and cartridge cases at the scene? From the looks of it there quite a few." The FBI director looked down at some papers, looking as he didn't want to be there any more than Anthony did. "What we have, General, is four hundred forty six identical cases, .40 caliber, all from the same manufacturer. Ballistics test results on the bullets are still being compiled, but without a weapon to check against they're not of much use. The recovered bullets so far are the same - full metal jacket with a flat nose, a common type. We know from witnesses and some videos some were being fired from rifles, or carbines, in some cases, and from handguns in others. We haven't been able to identify the manufacturer and model or the carbines from the little video we have, and nothing on the handguns. So aside from the ammunition, we not be able to identify them at all." "And approximately, how many, black-clad gunmen suddenly appeared from nowhere on a Friday afternoon and shot forty-eight people with identical guns and ammunition?" Anthony asked. "Like an army was assembled, equipped and trained for this. What else does that suggest?" he said to no one in particular, almost as if to himself. "That's exactly what it looks like," Clarence Gresham, the FBI director, said. "The black-clad gunmen disappeared in seconds after dispatching their targets," Anthony said. "There were getaway drivers, probably almost as many as shooters. In several cases vehicles were left behind. Nothing on them?" "Nothing so far," Gresham replied. "They were registered to several businesses which turned out to be dead ends - they had only been in business for a couple of years and none of the contact information led anywhere, just rented addresses which were also dead ends. Probably set up for this purpose." "So this could have been in the works for two, or more, years," Anthony said. "Nothing but dead ends, tracks thoroughly covered. What are we hearing from the usual suspects? Clarence, you've interrogated a few by now, haven't you. And we have chatter to go through. Robert, anything at NSA?" Robert Meyers was the NSA chief. Neither NSA or FBI had anything. "Of course we're analyzing the traffic," he said, "trying to pick up something useful." "But surely the guys you watch all the time, the militia, these white, what do you call them..?" "White supremacists," said Gresham. Anthony hated the term, knowing it was used to scapegoat the massive population of dissident citizens by associating them with a handful of mostly mentally ill malcontents. He spoke as he did as much to needle the director as anything else. "Of course. We have an eye on them at all times. The odd thing is, they seem as mystified as anyone else. There's the usual crackpot claiming credit or blaming someone, but so far those have just that, crazy people making noise to hear themselves talk. But we are following every lead, no matter how unlikely." "So at this point we have," said Anthony, "exactly nothing." He paused, without seeming to move his head scanning the faces. To forestall another useless exchange he asked "Have you been able to get anything from the one that was caught?" "No," replied Gresham. "He's not been cleared by the doctors yet, and when he is I'm fairly sure his lawyer will do everything he can to prevent him from talking. I'd expect him to clam up, but you never know." "I would suggest," Anthony said, "that you find a way to separate him from his lawyer long enough to apply some of the appropriate drugs. It's a long shot but it's the only one you've got. Although you might start by getting a bug in his cell to see if he says anything while he's asleep. For that matter, you can listen in while he's with his lawyer, if you can bug wherever they meet to talk." "We'll do that, of course," Gresham said. "But General, what are the prospects of this being a foreign actor. The amount of resources that must have gone into this would be considerable." "The intelligence people are, I hope, on top of that," Anthony replied. He wasn't about to get in on that. The secretary could handle it if defense was involved. He couldn't see it happening though - of the two main suspects Russia was too busy with other problems and China was nearly to the point of having bought the country. The AG looked over at the CIA chief. "Nothing except some chatter after it happened. From the intercepts related to it, they seem to be as surprised as we are. The Russians are monitoring the situation. The seem more than anything else to be worried about instability. The Chinese more so, they, uh they seem to be worried about a threat to their business interests here." Of course they to, Anthony thought. They're buying the country and don't want anything upsetting the schedule. "All right then," said AG Simmons. "Unless there are further developments today, we'll.." He paused, looked down at his phone. "Just a moment, please." He went over to the door that was always locked with guards posted outside during their meetings. He stood in the open door for a few minutes conversing with someone who was standing outside, then came back to the table. "I've just been handed a communication from the president," he said. "Give me just a minute." He sat down and read the paper, then sat looking at it for much longer that it could have taken to read it. At last he looked up. "We're going to be here a while longer," he said. |
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Chapter 57 -- JSMAFZRQSISDTW
"Well," said Donald, "the message was just delivered. One copy each to the White House, one to each house of Congress, and one each to the major dailies. We used a messenger service with a couple of layers of cutouts for all the deliveries - we'll know before long whether the ones to the government got through. Not that it matters. All the addressees are on it, so if one or more of the government divisions didn't get theirs, they'll know soon enough. Here's a copy." He handed one to each of them, and waited as they read them silently. xx September 20xx FROM: Commander-in-Chief of the People's Liberation Army TO: The President of the United States The United States House of Representatives The United States Senate cc: The Washington Post cc: The Washington Times On Friday, 2x August, 202x, the People of the Republic of the United States of America entered into a state of war with the government of the republic. What was done on that day will be repeated until the government agrees to a truce, after which a peace treaty is established, to be effective only upon compliance with our terms. Upon contact by the President, we will arrange a conference at a suitable time and location. The manner of contact is an address by the President, no later agreeing to negotiate, no later than 0900 Central Standard Time tomorrow, on one or more of the major broadcasters. We will be monitoring CBS, ABC, NBC, Fox, and CNN. If we see the address within the allotted time, we will contact the President with further instructions. The instructions will be given in a telephone call to the White House switchboard. This number will be used: 123-456-7890. Ensuring that the line is available is your responsibility. If no contact is received by the specified time, hostilities will resume. "Simple enough," said Carter. "And they have it now?" "We got confirmation on all five over an hour ago. We don't know what happened to the ones to the government, but they can't miss the coverage of the others. So it's time to start monitoring the news." They had the two major cable news channels up and waited for the news. It was not yet noon, so it was sure to be on before the day was out. "What happens if they don't respond?" Tommy asked. "The next set of attacks will be minor, at first. There will be a handful of bridges taken out, on well-travelled major highways - not freeways but roads we can block while the bridges are blown, so no one gets hurt. Maybe a half dozen or so, in the right places they'll have major problems for weeks, maybe months with congestion from the detours. We're ready to take down a couple of the big cross-country electric transmission towers. And just for fun, so to speak, there'll be a fire in southern California. The rain that usually dampens the forest fires doesn't start until November, so we should have a pretty good show for them." "What are the chances we'll have a reply by the deadline?" Jessica asked. "I'm guessing none," replied Donald. "But you never know. They get threats from crackpots all the time, but this one comes after the event. Their only decision is whether to respond. I suspect they won't. We deliberately gave them no more time because they probably can't make a decision that quickly. And so they'll most likely miss the deadline." Before long it happened. They saw the anchor on CNN holding up a paper for the audience to see. It could only be the letter. Donald turned the volume up, picking up the narration in mid-sentence. "...available is your responsibility. If no contact is received by the specified time, hostilities. will be resumed. "And that is the content of the letter," she continued. "Let's go now to Angela Collins in the nation's capitol. Angela?" "Hi, Brianna. As you can see I'm standing in front of the White House, as close as we can get now. As we arrived trucks were arriving with bringing more barriers, and the normal security zone has been extended considerably. We're actually inside it - they've reserved a space for the press - we're still far away now." "Obviously they're taking this seriously then," said the anchor, evidently someone named Brianna. Carter and Tommy didn't joke about the names now, all attention was on what was happening. "Yes, Angela. Of course any threat is taken seriously. So the reaction is not different this time. But there does seem to be more urgency this time, and the events of last Friday would make any threat more serious." "Has there been any word from the White House?" Brianna asked. "Not at this time," Angela replied. "We expect something soon, so we'll remain here until then. We had someone from the White House Communications Office come by a few minutes ago, the only thing we learned was that a statement would be forthcoming." "Are you seeing a heightened level of security in general?" "Yes, we are, Angela. When I arrived on Monday it was very different from when I was here a couple of weeks ago. And it didn't seem to be leveling off, even before the letter arrived." "Does anyone know if the President is in the White House at this time?" "Actually, we don't," Brianna said. "We knew he was here Friday and Saturday morning. We don't know if he has left since then or is still here" "And no one has asked the Communications Office?" "Not as far as I know, Angela. Of course there haven't been any briefings since the one on Saturday. I'm sure that question will be asked today." "Thanks, Brianna. We'll interrupt our regular programming and come back to you if there are any developments. And now we have Dr. Michael Summersby, senior fellow at the Chelsea University school of political science. Dr. Summersby?" "Thank you, Angela." The bespectacled sixtyish man of slight build was wearing a typical suit and wearing an earpiece as he sat in behind a desk, apparently in a studio somewhere. "Dr. Sommersby," Angela began. "This letter is perhaps the most unusual thing we have seen in a long time, if ever at all. It appears to have been delivered in just the five copies given to the addressees - the Washington Post printed a large number of copies for distribution to television and other news outlets. It was delivered to the Post long after the day's papers had been printed, so evidently the sender was counting on it to be distributed widely nonetheless. What is your initial assessment of it?" "Well, Angela, this is something quite unique. It is, aside from the obviously unbalanced mentality behind it, it is lucid and concise, to the point. Whoever composed it is certainly not sufficiently disturbed to be unable to communicate in a rational fashion." "Do you have a any thoughts as to its validity?" Angela asked. "Or could it be someone unrelated taking advantage of last Friday's tragic events?" "That's certainly a possibility," Sommersby replied. "In fact, it's surprising there haven't already been such communications from such people. Or perhaps there have, and they haven't been reported. But every threat must be taken seriously." "Then the president should make the address tomorrow?" "That's a very good question. Since the letter is unequivocally tied to the events of last Friday, it must be considered in that context. The administration certainly has nothing to lose by responding, and if a line of communication is established, it may aid in finding the perpetrators, if they are the ones who sent it." "And this should not be interpreted as negotiating with terrorists?" "No, Angela. They would simply be responding to the letter. If it is indeed from them, as I say, it may help in tracking them down. The only thing the administration should not do is give in to their demands." "Thank you, Dr. Sommersby," Angela said. As the commercial break came on Donald turned the sound back down "The professor gave them a couple of hints," Donald said. "They may respond in order to have a chance to track us. The main problem is they are probably too disorganized to get it done in time. There probably isn't one person pulling the strings, and they'll have come to a consensus on whether to reply. So we probably shouldn't be surprised if they don't. Either way, our conscience is clear. General Anthony listened to the talk, hoping he was to be left out now that the discussion was only political strategy. "First," said Dean Jordan, "do we respond? It seems a no-brainer. As well as the consensus of the analysts we've seen. In fact not one recommended against it. Anyone not think so?" Anthony was glad he put it that way. Here was no need to speak. Everyone was going with what the analysts had said. They might as well, he thought, as none of them was capable of forming a useful idea. The response would buy time. As for tracking down the perpetrators, he suspected that would be easier said than done. Much easier. "All right, then," Jordan said. He had by default become the leader of the group, which was probably for the best, since the president was incapable of conducting a meeting. He sat now, in the center of the semi-circle at the table, as in the position of leadership, but like the past two presidents he was nothing more than a puppet. Hearing no objections, he continued. "The president will have to speak. There's no way around it. But like last Saturday, it will be just to introduce the others. He will acknowledge receipt of the letter and an agreement to communicate. At that point we've got until whenever we hear from them again. The main thing is to get through the speech tomorrow." Jordan didn't look at the president as he spoke. Most of them avoided looking at him any more than they had to. While he wasn't as far gone mentally as one of his predecessors had been, he rarely had anything to say. He knew he was nothing more than a mouthpiece, and knew when he accepted the nomination that he would make no decisions, only implement those of the party leaders. But Anthony, more experienced, and more skillful in such matters, watched him without anyone ever realizing how much he studied the president, or anyone else in these meetings. None of them had the ability to focus on more than one thing at a time, and his surreptitious inspections. What he saw, while he found it distasteful, was also troubling. These people were where they were because they were the most successful results of a lifetime of indoctrination by the schools and colleges they attended coupled with a self-absorbed personality that placed their personal well-being above all else, with all else a means to that end. Including, he thought, selling their country down the river. Such people always thought they would stay on top no matter what happened, never realizing that they were being used just as they used others. "It's almost three-thirty," Jordan said. "If we're all in agreement, let's get it ready. Jane, can you have the speech writers get a draft in the next half hour. That will give us plenty of time to get any tweaking done - it's short and to the point, so it shouldn't be difficult." "I can have it by four. Is there anything else?" "Just the follow-up statements by Dean, and Frank and Alice if you think those are needed." "We should probably limit it to one," said Frank. "Too many speakers, too many questions, too many opportunities for mistakes." "Everyone all right with that?" asked Jordan. "Sorry you're it, Dean, but Homeland Security is pretty much the mandatory offering here." "Not a problem," Dean said. "We'll be all right." "OK, then. We'll meet here at, let's make it four-fifteen." Anthony waited for the others to rise, taking a little extra time to get his briefcase closed as he watched them leave. He was far enough behind that the elevator doors were closing as he approached, as he had hoped. He preferred not to be around them any more than necessary. Something was troubling him, and he hadn't yet been able to put his finger on it, but a sense of foreboding had come, and nothing could make it go away. |
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Chapter 58 -- SXWSGQVVLGBSSQ
"I suppose we won't get much before tomorrow morning," Donald said. "It's almost five, I should probably go over to the office and see if there's anything of interest." "What happens tomorrow?" Jessica asked. "If they accept. That postpones the start for, how long?" "If they accept," Donald replied, "they'll be waiting for us to contact them, as the letter says. They'll get a phone call, bounced around through several relays, several of which we own. The call will simply tell them that our reply will be sent, no only to them but to all of the American people, so everyone can see it. That's all. We will then print copies, as we did with our first message to the population. Our conditions spelled out, simple and clear. "We will then wait for the response. If it is not satisfactory or not received at all, then we resume hostilities. Of course we weren't sure of the response this time - we're fairly certain of the next one. At that point our commander-in-chief will leave the country for a safe location, along with several key members of the Council. "While they could probably remain safely hidden within the country, this is an added layer of security. Communications will work just as well, for us. And our communications with the enemy - the same way we're doing now. The next time they initiate contact it will be to negotiate a truce. We'll have told them how." "Then we're probably a couple of weeks out," Carter said. "Is there anything we can be doing to prepare?" "We want to be well stocked here for long stays, other than that we'll be ready for any requisitions of materiel. I suspect they won't be long in coming." "We'll see you in the morning then," Jessica said. The four of them continued watching the news for a while before returning home for the night. There was little if anything new. The endless procession of guest experts and pundits soon wore thin, and they decided to have dinner and go to their homes. Meals had become a quick and simple affair, usually frozen pizzas or other items quickly and easily prepared. They were already living the war, even though the remainder of the population was yet to realize it. Later, Carter and Jessica stood on the deck on the back of the house, the glass walls of winter already in place, drinking a glass of wine before retiring. The sun had just set, and in the cool twilight the calm country view seemed to be another world viewed through a window. She looked up at him, as he seemed to be looking at something far away. She suspected she was feeling the same, wondering if they would ever see the calm, normal world they had once known. After a while he looked over at her, smiled and put his arm around her. "It'll be all right," he said. "We both know it, but it just seems a long way off now. But it will come." They went over early in the morning. Donald had returned sometime during the night and already had the televisions on. Carter and Jessica took doughnuts and coffee to his office, where they were soon joined by Tommy and James. It was not yet 0800, and they guessed the presidential address, if it happened, would be around the 0900 time specified. A delay of a few minutes, or probably even hours, would not cause them to act, but preparations were in place for the end of a twenty-four hour period with no response. As they had expected, the break in the news programs came at 0851, just a few minutes before the deadline. The president was if anything more robotic than usual. Very likely the staff, whoever made the decisions, agonized over every word. The action of the previous Friday had convinced them it was a serious matter, and a response was required if only to stall for time, which was what they expected. "My fellow Americans," he said, as most speeches began. "As many, perhaps most of you know by now, a letter was sent to the president and to the United States Congress. In this letter, an organization referring to itself as the People's Republic of the United States states that a state of war exists between this organization and the government of the United States. In this letter, a reference to the tragic events of last Friday, indicates they are, or claim to be, responsible. "Let me be clear, the government of the United States will never submit to terrorism and will not negotiate with terrorists. And terrorist is what the people who committed these heinous and cowardly crimes are. And make no mistake, those who committed these crimes will be found and brought to justice. "I urge you to abandon this course of madness, surrender yourselves to the proper authorities. You must be held accountable, of course, but if you do not cease and desist from such actions now, many people will suffer. As I speak, investigations are underway and are bearing fruit. I am now speaking to those people. "You cannot hide for long, and the more crimes you commit the more severe the consequences will be. And those who have aided you, or do so in the future, by providing help of any kind, will be held accountable. Anyone who has information which may assist in stopping these terrorists and bringing them to justice is urged to contact authorities immediately. Information for how to do this will be provided after this address is completed. "As to the senders of the letter, we are willing to communicate with you and hear your grievances, whatever they may be. We are willing to examine any matters you believe require redress. But there is a proper way to do that, and we hope that you will use it. "Finally, I urge you, my fellow citizens, to be vigilant and report any suspicious activity of which you have knowledge. Together we will defeat this threat to our democracy. Thank you." They watched the session with the Director of Homeland Security that followed. There was little new information, aside from the admission that a suspect from the events of Black Friday, as it was now commonly being called, was in custody. They expected a break in the case any day, but the importance of 'vigilance', as it was described, was stressed. Nothing, no matter how small or innocent, should be dismissed. Including friends and family. "Friends and family. That pretty much nails it," Carter said. "I'm surprised they're being so overt, this early." "I have to suspect a fair amount of desperation among the inner circle," Donald said. "They're all of minimal competence at best, at everything except political infighting. They could have handled it better, bought some time, by at least pretending to start a dialogue. It would take a few more days, weeks even, to arrive at the point of no return. Which is where they are now, given that it was as good as an outright rejection." "That was probably the worst thing he said," Carter said. "If we're already going to be planting red herrings everywhere, stirring up the independent groups to act. He just invited every busybody in the country to help us gum up the works." "We're hoping the enemy's incompetence will help," said Donald, "and we probably won't be disappointed." "So it begins today.," Jessica said. "Effectively. There's a second letter to the people, probably going out in two, maybe three days. The final draft has been approved - I got the go-ahead last night - so it's just a matter of doing the distribution. Here's a copy, by the way." He handed the copies to them. Carter looked at the single page. 00 Xxxxxxxxx 20xx To our fellow Americans: Recently the People's Liberation Army embarked upon a campaign to restore the constitutional republic that has now been destroyed by many years of political and societal corruption, to the degree that a societal or political solution is no longer possible. The months, perhaps years ahead will be filled with discomfort, and even danger for many. We deeply regret this, but the only alternative is, as we know from history, years, decades, even centuries of slavery and misery for the vast majority of the population, while a few privileged live lives of comfort and security unknown and unavailable to the remainder of the people. A few weeks ago, we asked you if you will do something to stop the destruction of the greatest nation and society that has ever existed on the earth. We now ask you again. The government has rejected our requests to negotiate a peaceful solution. During the weeks and months ahead you will have opportunities to do, even if in small ways, something to help. Do not assist this corrupt government in its attempts to complete the subjugation of its citizens. If you see an opportunity to help in the resistance, we ask you to do so. We stand at the edge of the precipice, poised to take the last step into ruin. As one of our greatest presidents said: "We'll preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on Earth, or we'll sentence them to take the last step into a thousand years of darkness.” And it may well be a thousand years if we do not act. There has never been such a nation on this earth, and if we do not. preserve it, in its original form, there may never be another. Humankind will have at last demonstrated unequivocally that that it does not deserve one. The People's Liberation Army "That makes it pretty clear." Jessica said. "How long did it take to the the last one out?" "About eight to ten days total," Donald replied. "Once the finished product was in the hands of the freeholds, they went to work making copies and distributing them. Even the smaller ones could make tens of thousands, in most cases more than enough for their particular geographical area, given the population. Nice thing about technology, it's fast and cheap. They'll still be wondering when it's over how they got out there so fast." "And for anyone who hasn't seen one yet the television and internet will finish the job," said Jessica. "The very people who try control the flow of information and try to brainwash the population help us. They can't resist getting in on it." "Right," Donald said. "And there's no way the government can keep it from getting out. With over two million copies on the ground, telling the news media not to report it will be useless. And the ubiquity of it will make all the recipients know they're part of something big. "Who's doing it in this area?" asked Tommy. "I guess we could help out, even though we don't have a lot of contact with the outside. I'm guessing it's one of the members up this way." "Yeah, Pine Ridge handles this area for things like this," Donald said. "They drive across from Hannibal, right past us in fact, head back a a little north of us, leaving them in small towns, which is about all there are. Hannibal is the only city of any size in the north part of the state. They drop them off in small batches, surreptitiously, in places where people will find them, like the small free papers, scattered around on counters at post offices, gas stations. They probably put out about five, six thousand. Most of the time someone who finds one will share it, if only to ask if someone knows about it. So by a couple of days after we start the country is exposed coast to coast, and not just in the cities but anywhere people live." "Anything else of interest come in overnight?" Jessica asked. "Nothing especially significant" Donald said. "Other than the fact that the leash is off on our associates and other contacts whom we'd asked to stand down until after Friday. That word is already being passed, before we got the response from the government. We knew it wasn't going to be a capitulation, and that was the only thing that would have stopped. So they're free to fire at will." "How many of them are likely to do something right away?" Carter asked. "Of major consequence." "There's a good chance," Donald replied. "Some of the more, unstable you could say, might make a move soon. Those are the ones the government will be going after in any case, especially now. So they have nothing to lose. Hopefully some of them will make a good show." "Is you office going to continue to be adequate for a command center?" Jessica asked "Or should we think about some changes?" "I've been thinking about that," Donald replied. "We could build a new one in the old garage. It's been empty for a while, we can start with a clean slate. It would be mostly a matter of moving equipment and some electrical and cabling. We could probably get Grant from Copper City come up for a couple of days, we could get it done fairly quickly. "Other than that, there's not much we can work in just now." |
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Chapter 59 -- IOQUNVXEDJZKDZSKIZ
Walter Kittrell parked his truck a considerable distance from the target. He and Bob White were both still fairly young and could still stand a lengthy hike. They were both fifty-four, classmates who after graduation had gone to work at the same factory. After losing their jobs in one layoff after another for close to twenty years they had, like many rural and small-town people, turned to self-employment to have a regular income. Their small auto repair shop had done quite well, and the amount of cash under the table usually exceeded the income they paid taxes on. Nevertheless they were scrupulous about business matters, with all provable cash intake accounted for. Each had gone through a couple of wives during the early years, and Bob, unlucky enough to have a child, was only a few years past the end of confiscatory child support. Now they had girlfriends, amiable and undemanding, and were making a good living. In another ten or twelve years they could retire without worrying about having to get by on Social Security. Life should have been good, and for the time being it wasn't bad, from a comfort point of view. But the ever more oppressive taxes and regulations, with the ever more depressing news of the decaying society they lived in, made them realize that they were not even going to be allowed a comfortable retirement. They were unlikely to be able to afford private insurance after they retired - they could barely afford what they had now, even with enough employees to get a supposedly more affordable group plan. If they were stuck with Medicare they would be killed off at the earliest opportunity through the abysmal care even the insured were getting. 'Gotta stop thinking so much' he thought as he handed Bob the camera case. "I just get mad and it doesn't fix anything'. The small pocket camera was easier to use than a phone, at least for his needs. He locked the truck, double checked them as he walked around to join Bob as they walked toward the railroad. The railroad was on a high embankment as it ran along Highway 1. When they reached the railroad they were a good twenty feet higher than the road that ran parallel to it for miles across the flood plain. As they walked they constantly watched for trains. Not only could a train approach almost unheard if one was not paying attention, they did not want to be seen, even by a train crew. And the maintenance trucks could stop and ask them what they were doing. They walked a good mile before the trestle they had selected. The embankment had openings at various places for side roads to the adjacent highway to pass under. Except where it crossed a major highway and used a concrete overpass the bridges were supported on large wooden posts, not much larger than utility poles. In some places the railroad crossed the road in a span supported only at the ends, in others the road was divided into two lanes as it went under the railroad, with supporting posts in between. Walter and Bob had scouted a couple already, and were now checking out a third. Checking both ways for a train, they descended to the road below. Bob kept a lookout for cars while Walter took pictures. Then he took out a notebook while Bob used a laser distance measuring tool to take some measurements. The data recorded, they climbed back to the railroad track and inspected it. Then they headed back to their vehicle. Back at the shop, they went into the office and added the new information to the plans. The completed diagram showed a section of the railroad approximately twenty miles long, with the overpasses marked. The three they had selected were virtually guaranteed to collapse if the vertical supports were removed, and with additional damage to the horizontal members holding the roadway the bridge could be out for weeks. "Well, let's get the crew together and look this over," Walter said. He looked out at the shop floor, where the last work of the day was being wrapped up and the workers preparing to leave for the weekend. They were doing well enough to close on Saturday, and the crew was never late in leaving. They would have the place to themselves until Monday morning. He picked up a cheap flip phone and punched a number, while Bob did the same. After a brief conversation Bob called a second number and spoke briefly before hanging up. "OK, they all should be here in a while," Bob said. "It looks like we'll be ready to go in a few days, if we get the word." "What did you think about this morning?" Walter asked. "I'd say it sounds like something big is going on," Bob replied, "but damned if I know what to believe any more. You get a mass killing in DC, all members of Congress, forty-something. If that isn't enough, now we got something called the People's Liberation Army takes credit and say they're declaring war on the government. And the next day the government essentially admits it's all true. Where does that leave us?" "We'll see what Harry says when he gets here. He seems to be somewhat connected. In fact he seems to know quite a lot. Almost as if he is part of something big himself." Walter had not had much contact with political organizations, as Bob had. Bob had connections with a prepper camp it the foothills of Crawford Ridge. Walter had visited it with him a few times, usually using the opportunity for some target practice. More recently Bob and some of his comrades had become more militant in their attitude, as if preparing more for war than more ordinary emergencies. Walter would not have thought much about it, although he was worried about the future as the situation deteriorated, and wondered what he would do if the gun confiscations that some predicted came to pass. To him that would be a sign that the government had some plans he would not like. But it was not until a little over a year ago that he was for the first time gripped by the fear of an imminent danger. Laura, his kid sister, had married a local guy just after they both graduated from high school. He was a very religious type, and seemed to be a good kid and a good husband to Laura. A few year ago they had moved to a religious commune some distance away, one which was, like the prepper types, concerned with being prepared for the 'end times'. He visited her there occasionally and if they seemed a little odd he saw nothing to concern him. But then, a just over a year earlier, he saw the news of a federal raid on the community. Over twenty of the members had been killed, including several children. And Laura. Her husband was one of another two dozen or so who had been arrested and was still in a federal lockup awaiting trial on a laundry list of charges. Walter had investigated, talking with people who lived in the are and had known them. None gave any indication of knowing or even suspecting them of the alleged crimes. As he and Bob discussed it he became aware of the dark underbelly of the increasingly oppressive federal government. Bob and his associates were among those who refused to accept the increasingly absurd accounts of the news media, and had contacts with others like them around the country. When all the recent incidents, which did not attract much attention individually, were laid out with the dots connected, it became apparent that something was very wrong. As he became more immersed in the activities of Bob's associates, he became more and more frightened about the future. Harry, who was coming to the meeting, was one of the contacts Bob's community had recently made. Shortly after the election he had approached them with a proposal. Tim and George, two of Bob's other prepper associates, arrived and they waited for Harry, who showed up shortly afterward. His arrival gave Walter the idea that he had been watching them, waiting for them all to arrive before making his entry. He was a mysterious type, 'not from around her' as people said. He had the look of perhaps an ex-military type, perhaps a career man from whom certain mannerisms never faded. He looked to be in his late forties, so he might be a retired soldier. "Evening, gentlemen," he said as he entered. "Everything go well?" Looking at Walter and Bob. "Fine," Bob replied, turning the diagram for him to see. "The pics are on the computer." Harry examined the drawing, clicked through the pictures. "Good detail, there," he said. "Just what we needed. The other two teams are ready. Are these the measurements for the verticals?" "Yeah, we measured just over four feet around on about five or six of them" Bob said. "They're all roughly the same." Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's going to be sixteen inches in diameter. The drills we'll bring can bore a hole two inches in diameter and twelve inches deep in about a minute. You can get the charges in fairly quickly, two sticks per post to be safe - one would do it. And when those posts go down, the bridge will collapse even without ones up under the roadbed. Good work, guys." "Anything on a timetable?" Walter asked. "In view of the news the last few days?" "Yes," Harry replied. "The gloves are off, as we expected they would be. By the time you get the charges set, we'll be ready to use them." "These things look so top-heavy, they look like they shouldn't be possible." Carl commented as they looked up at the enormous framework atop the enormous four-legged tower, the vertical members holding the 750,000 volt lines extending out further than the width of the base. "Yeah," said Wayne. "You can to amazing things with steel. Too bad there's always a weak spot somewhere." He knelt by the large square concrete base of one of the legs. A large circular plate was fastened to it by a row of large bolts embedded in the concrete pier. The enormous piers, over thirty feet deep, counterbalanced the weight of the huge tower. "Amazing how you can take one of these down so easily," said Carl. "Yeah well, you do have to invest in a large quantity of thermite," Wayne said. "Just to melt the bolts on one plate will take a few bricks. And we want to be sure. So it's all four." Loosening one of the legs certainly could cause problems, two would likely cause the tower to fall over. But there was no tolerance for risk on this operation. The failure had to be guaranteed. Out here the towers were always under some stress from the winds on the vast prairie. Taking down one would put tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of homes without power. It would put that transmission line out of commission for weeks at least. The target had been chosen for its heavy dependence on that one line. Additional power, probably enough to restore service completely, but it would have to come from somewhere, and multiple failures would cripple the already fragile grid. Already deliberate blackouts had to be implemented in places like California even without the electrical failures, and previous winters had caused them in other parts of the country. Add a little sabotage to that, Carl thought, and a lot of people would be angry. After he photographed the base plates, they walked out across the plain some distance, looking at the line of towers eventually vanishing in the distance. It would be fun, he thought, to take down a long line of them, if they had the materials and the time. But one break in the chain was enough, and there were other chains that needed breaking. He turned and walked back toward the road where they had parked the truck. In a rented house in suburban Alexandria, Virginia two men worked quietly on a workbench with fluorescent shop lights hanging overhead. Five shallow circular trays, each about six inches deep, were filled with a thick light grey paste, filling the trays about halfway. As the paste began to congeal, a process that happened quickly, a fine reddish-brown powder was poured over the top. Each of the six holes around the rim of each tray contained an electric blasting cap, wired to the receiver on top. Each assembly was placed inside a shrink-wrap bag and heated a heat gun until it was tightly sealed. Finally each device went into a large flat box bearing the logo of a popular pizza restaurant with locations in every city with a population of over 30,000 or so. "OK, Chris, here you go," one of them said. He placed a small black box with a small trailing wire on top of each box. "Let's see how many of these we can score with." His partner helped him carry the boxes out to the garage, where they placed two boxes into one of the cars, and three in the other. They locked the car doors, then went outside to a car parked outside the garage. After a final check of the doors, they got in the car and drove away. |
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Chapter 60 -- QFZXMBRZAHUANY
Grant Page tapped the answer button on his phone. "Grant here." He saw Luther's name on the screen. "How's it going?" "We should probably talk," Luther said. "We've had some visitors you should know about. Can you come over or should I come over there?" "It depends," Grant replied. "How long ago?" "A couple of hours." Grant thought about it for a moment. Anyone leaving the compound could be followed, if the visitors had them under surveillance. And they were close enough that their own place could also be under surveillance. and probably was. "I'll be over there in a few minutes, or as soon as I can on the back trail. You know what I mean?" "I understand," Luther replied. "We'll be waiting." "You probably shouldn't have anyone leaving for a while, unless it's just an ordinary errand to town, something like that." "OK," Luther said. "Thank you." Grant quickly contacted each of the other committee members. Bill was home, Douglas didn't answer, and Arthur was in town. Gerald was also home. He quickly explained the situation, and Bill and Gerald said they would be right over. "You think one of us should stay here?" asked Grant. "Probably. In case someone shows up over here. You go on, I'll hold it down here." The trail had been sufficiently developed to allow travel by one of the small utility vehicles they used. Although they had left the trail concealed at the other end, it was a short walk into Luther's compound. They covered the mile or so in a few minutes and walked into the back of the compound, the forest already dark. Luther greeted them, and they accompanied him and two of the elders into his home. "A couple of hours ago," he began, "two cars arrived. Two people in each. There was one man and one woman in each car. They showed their IDs - the two women were from the Department of Education, one of the men was from the Department of Homeland Security and the other was with the FBI. The two women did most of the talking at first, telling that there was no record of our children being registered for school. I told her there were no children of school age here, and she showed me a list. It looked like all of them, names and ages. They said they expected to see them enrolled in the nearest available public school before start of classes two weeks from now. "I asked her what they would do if they weren't, and she said they would come and take the children to a facility for education. I decided to stall, told her I would talk to our lawyer. That at least got rid of them - she rather smugly assured me that there was nothing I could to, but by all means talk to him. "Then the FBI agent asked me if anyone had come to visit or live here recently. I asked him how recently and he said in the last three or four weeks. I said no and he showed me two pictures - Jack and Wesley." "So they're looking to kill two birds," Grant said. "They were going to come see you about the kids anyway, and I would guess they're conducting a sweep of the area, looking for them. So we have two problems, one is easy enough. Hide Jack and Wesley over at our place. And we can do the same with the children, if they want to search the place. The question is, what will they do when they don't find them?" "Have you been contacted yet?" Luther asked. "No," Grant replied. "But at the registration last year we were living different places. Most of us still have our addresses at various places - homes we own of those of friends and family. "So, do you want to hide the kids over at our place, and of course Jack and Wesley, and see what happens?" "I believe that is the best thing to do, for now," Luther said. "We'll have to see what happens next." "Yeah, you'll no doubt be served with a court order to produce the children. How much time that will buy I don't know. Probably none beyond the compliance date on the order, since they've already said lawyers won't make any difference. But we'll try that, and see what happens." "Thank you," Luther said. "We'll keep an eye out. We'll take the children down to the path, acquaint them with it. And of course Wesley and Jack will be ready to move as soon as it is necessary." Grant and Bill went back to the trail and returned to their compound. Arthur and Douglas had returned, and they gathered to discuss the situation. They all agreed they would have to improvise, meanwhile increasing their own vigilance and preparation. The talk turned to the recent news. "After last Friday," Douglas said, "soon to be Friday before last, it seems, our visitor told us to expect something. I'm guessing it happened. The question is, what does that portend for us?" "This may help," Arthur said. "Picked it up in town - someone had left a stack of them on a counter back by the drink fountain in the Stop'n'Go in town. I grabbed some, read one when I got back to the truck." He handed them around, and waited as they read them. "This looks like the one a couple of weeks ago," Bill said. "Apparently it showed up all over the country in just a matter of days, all identical. Must have been millions. Who has the ability to do that? "Someone with a lot of money, and quite a few personnel," said Arthur. "If it's out here it's everywhere by now. Just like the other one." "The 'do something' letter," said Grant. "Nationwide coverage, almost instantly. Bypassing television, the Internet. An identical message to everyone who gets it, with no filtering or suppression possible." "If this is the same people," Arthur said looking at the paper, "the People's Liberation Army - sounds like one of those outfits from the 60s, 70s, out to overthrow the corrupt U.S. Government. Only now it's real. The government is corrupt, it's everything the hippies back then thought the government was." "The irony," Grant said. "Fifty years later, what they thought they had is what we now have, and we're the old men fighting it." "So, Brad asked us to hold off until last Friday, and we did," Bill said. "Not that we had anything planned, or do now. But I wouldn't be surprised if trouble finds us, soon enough." "It may," Grant said, "if the feds come back for our neighbors. We should get over there, see how they're armed. Lend them some weapons and ammunition if they need them. We've seen them go crazy and wipe out settlements like that, for no apparent reason." "You're right," said Douglas. "Tomorrow's Friday. I'd be surprised if they came back tomorrow. So we have the weekend. Let's call Luther and see what he wants to do. Meanwhile, we should probably check with our tech guys and see what they're seeing. You want call Jeff and see what's up?" Gerald used the desk phone that was connected to their internal network. "Hey kid, what's up?" he asked as Jeff answered. He pushed the speaker button. "Just the usual," Jeff replied. "What are you all up to?" "Wondering about the chatter," Gerald said. "What do the patterns look like, relative to last Friday?" "That's interesting," Jeff said. "Last Friday, early in the day, there was a burst of traffic centered on Mike Charlie. It tapered off fairly quickly, by early afternoon. Then it picked up some, around 1900 to 2300. Certainly some coded messages, from the look of it. Nonsense phrases, like they were there for certain people to see. Then it settled down for a few days, and mostly what we've seen since then is just people talking about it, speculating on what it is." "Certainly seems to be related somehow to our mysterious PLA," Grant said. "I guess me might as well use their initials if we're going to be talking about them a lot. What does it look like for the past say, three days?" "You get that, Jeff?" Gerald asked. "Yeah, let me see. OK, yeah, it's been going up for a couple of days, leveling off today." "Well, that's about the best we're going to do on that mystery," Grant said. "What sort of chatter is there on the events? Friday, and the latest letter? Wait. Jeff, there was another letter in the last two days, like the one week before last, I guess." "You mean the 'do something' letter?" Jeff asked. "Yeah," said Grant, "the new one apparently is only a couple of days old." "Yeah, that one probably caused the spike about twenty-four hours ago. Is that one about the People's Liberation Army?" "Yeah, that one." "So it's being discussed," said Grant. "And passed around to anyone who already seen it. It will no doubt give ideas to some of the discontented who may only be thinking about doing something, and encourage them. I wouldn't be surprised if a hornet's nest has been kicked." "Or two or three," Arthur said. "Well, we need to get with Luther's people," Douglas said. "See what can be done and get ready." "All right, Jeff. Thanks," said Gerald. "Give us a yell if you see anything new or unusual." "We need to be ready for anything," Douglas said, "when the feds show up again. And it's fairly certain they will." "Yeah," Grant said. "With the double mission of confiscating the kids, they're going to be real interested in the fugitives. Whether they have tracked them this far or not, they want a look inside." |
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Chapter 61 -- CATGQIXQFZOFIC
General Anthony scrolled through the news briefs on his computer screen. In front of his desk three large television screens had been set up, each showing one of the major news channels. A control panel in one corner of his screen allowed him to adjust the volume on any of the screens without having to pick up the remote. At the moment all three were showing news desks with mostly attractive young women speaking. Occasionally one or the other would go to a split screen and another person would appear and begin speaking. He watched the text at the bottom for anything interesting. Two days ago the letter distributed by the People's Liberation Army, as it was now universally being called, had suddenly appeared all over the country. The speed of its spread could not have happened, he was sure, without a large organization behind it. Very large, and likely well-funded. People's Liberation Army. Black Friday. Terms like those were last used much in the 1970s, maybe the 1980s, but were seldom seen outside of unrest in the various third-world backwaters that rarely made the news. Today it was always 'social justice' slogans, with acronyms. Ideally three-letter acronyms, as if the optimum length had been found. Except for one or two longer ones, which occasionally had letters added to them as new aggrieved groups were identified. This was different, however. At fifty-three, Anthony had been born in the 70s, when the college riots and marches in the big cities were flourishing, and then the main themes were civil rights and anti-military. And much of that had been financed by the Russians, who these days were preoccupied with internal problems and mostly limited their meddling to their local region. The Chinese were the only player big enough to launch something like this, and it was completely the opposite of their goals. They very likely would not even wish civil unrest on the country, as their progress in buying it was going as well as it was. 'Who then?' he thought, even as he suspected what it might be. Something plausible in principle, but unlikely to ever happen in the present environment. He consulted a list of general officers in critical positions, found the one he wanted. He clicked the call button, waited for the secretary to answer. As he did, a chyron on one of the screens caught his eye. He clicked the call button. "General Talbot's office," the secretary said. "This is General Anthony. Put Myles on, please." The phone system would have already verified him as authentic, and Major General Myles Talbot answered immediately. "Yes, sir." "Myles, can you get one of the news channels on and hold for me please?" He didn't wait for the standard 'Yes, Sir' but increased the volume on one of the televisions he was watching. The announcer was in mid-sentence. "...in Phoenix. The repair crews found the problem. This enormous transmission tower, carrying much of the electricity to Phoenix, completely toppled over. We don't yet know what happened - we have a reporter from KKYK- TV in Phoenix. "Andrea, do we have anything new?" "Myles, do you have the news on?" Anthony asked. "The news from Phoenix, sir? I've got it." "Keep watching." "Yes, Heather. The utility crews believe they've found the cause, sort of. As you may be able to see, or maybe not from here, but these huge towers stand on four legs, fastened to concrete piers that go deep into the ground. All four legs seem to have become separated from the pier, and with the strong winds out here, it fell over. At least two other towers, the ones on either side, have sustained damage as the wires were pulled by the falling tower." "Do we have any idea how that could happen?" Heather asked. "At this point we don't know," the reporter replied. "We can see vehicles around the area where the tower was standing, but we don't yet have any word on the cause." Anthony turned the sound down slightly, then turned his attention back to the conversation with Talbot. "You still there, Myles?" "Yes, sir." "Sorry, that came on just as I called. Go ahead and watch the rest of it. It may be important. Afterwards, I need to see you here in DC tomorrow morning. Technically, I can't order you - that would have to come from General Talley. But I need to talk to you first. This is very important. Tomorrow's Saturday, can you catch a AceJet up here in civvies. Call me when you leave and I'll pick you up at the airport." "Yes, sir. I'll be there." Anthony looked at his directory again. He personally knew a half dozen or so of them fairly well, and had met some the others a few times. He knew the ranks of generals, particularly in the army, had been diluted with malleable types who would do anything expedient to preserve and advance their careers. It was easy enough to do - the men of conscience retired rather than submit, or objected and were fired. Either way, most men who would place their duty first were gone, not only among the generals but among the lower levels of the officer corps. And social engineering had polluted the enlisted ranks even more. He sometimes wondered what most of his peers would say if asked if they were abiding by their oath. He suspected most would affirm that they were without thinking. Without thinking that their oath was to the constitution, and that the government was in the process of making the constitution irrelevant. 'So what are you going to do about it?' he asked himself. A few days earlier he might not have had an answer. That there was nothing he could do. If his suspicions were right, there not only was something he could do, but something he must do. Even though the eventual consequences might haunt him afterward, they could not be as bad as the consequences for doing nothing. He had a feeling he was about to get another call. This incident was very likely sabotage, and if it was it was likely either the PLA, as he had begun to think of them, or someone incited by their letter. And if that was the case, the probability of suppressing it by any available means was low. If this was a war, as they said, things could get very ugly. The nation had been in a precarious position for some years now, with the festering inner cities, the masses of illegal immigrants, and the near complete breakdown of responsible behavior. If if blew up completely, he was certain that at some point the option of martial law would be invoked by the brain trust holding the president's strings. And the Army would be responsible for carrying out the orders. He doubted that the pressure from the civil unrest, no matter how severe, could persuade the government to reverse its policies, even a little. Their hubris, now reinforced of years of almost no resistance, would likely be insurmountable. Even in the current state of fear, they would not consider negotiating with any opposition. And before long, in the absence of further attacks on their persons, fear would turn to a desire for revenge. In all his years he had never felt so helpless. And being in this position was beginning to make him angry. Tamp it down, he told himself. Acting out of anger is what they would do. Think, damnit! Think! He searched for a name in the list. Harris. Arthur Harris. What happened to you, he wondered. Old as me and only two stars, commanding an infantry division based in Georgia. Harris, he now remembered, was one of those who had opened his mouth when he shouldn't have, offended a senator or someone important. He would end his career as a Major General, probably fairly soon. An officer, especially one who has made it that far, knows when his career is finished. Harris was probably trying to finish his thirty years to maximize his pension. Control of an infantry division could come in handy for what Anthony had in mind. He continued down the list, checking out the current assignments of the men on it. He would need men he could trust, but they would have to be in positions where they could make certain things happen. By the time Margaret looked in to see if he needed anything before he left, he had a half dozen more names. In the morning he and Myles would make some phone calls. As he was preparing to leave he checked the news channels again. The mystery of the collapsed transmission tower was at least partially solved. It seemed that all four legs of the tower, bolted to large concrete piers, had become detached, allowing the tower to fall over. Phoenix had experienced blackouts for several hours as the power was rerouted, and repairs were expected to take some time. Anthony was relatively certain the detachment didn't happen without some help. He wondered if he could act quickly enough to prevent the worst possible outcome to the situation. One of the worst would for the current regime to succeed in crushing the rebellion, whatever form it might take. And it looked like some sort of organized action was underway. If the rebels were to be successful, a great deal of destruction would be necessary. And if other, unassociated elements joined in, it would be worse. He wondered if there was a way to reverse the government's intent, short of eliminating, at a minimum, dozens of the top-level officials. 'Eliminate', he thought. Not ready, yet, to say what that meant. The PLA had already decided, and he suspected they were right. He was reminded of the quotation of Thomas Jefferson that was often invoked by the dissenters. Of how the tree of liberty must be refreshed with blood, the blood of patriots and tyrants. The true patriot, he thought, must accept that his own blood may be required. How many people today, he wondered, are ready for that. To take the blood of one's oppressor is a relatively easy decision, putting one's own blood risk takes more courage. Do we have it? he wondered. Do I have it? He had thought often about losing his life on the battlefield. It was part of the deal whey you signed on. He was the one military man in the mix. The others had never taken a risk greater than having their career threatened by a mistake of their own or an attack from a rival. The plan was beginning to coalesce in his mind. It would be complicated, and require great care, beginning with his selection of the participants. He looked up at the screens. Another 'BREAKING NEWS' segment was being announced, but he was about to be late getting home. He wanted to take his wife out to dinner, she dined alone too often as it was, and he already didn't see her for the entire day. He called her, asked if she could go. She could, she said, and would make the reservations. He looked once more at the screens, saw video of a train at a crossing, moving slowly. Maybe just a train wreck, he thought. He picked up his briefcase, turned off the lights and went out. |
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Chapter 62 -- OKPFCRLFNYCXYBCXZAVGJZSR
The final touches in place, the first use of the new 'command post', as Carter called it, began. Grant Meredith, who lived downstate near the I-70 corridor connecting Kansas City and St. Louis, had come up to help. He, along with some family and friends, made up one of the smallest freeholds, with a handful of families living on contiguous properties of several acres each. "OK, folks," Grant said. "Let's see what we have." He flipped switches of a control panel on a small table which was flanked by two larger ones, each holding a number of computers. In front of the tables, several large television screens were mounted on the wall. Their signal inputs could be switched between the satellite receivers and the computers. With all the equipment powered on, they began checking the functionality. They had been working since early in the morning, and it was well past noon. Soon all the screens were lit up and network traffic was flowing. "Anyone not ready to eat?" Jessica asked. "I thought you'd never ask." Grant grinned. "What's on the menu?" "Since we're running late, it looks like pizza, whatever else we can find to go with it. Let's take a look." Grant followed her and Carter into the kitchen and helped unbox some pizzas and get them in the oven, opening chips and dip. "You weren't planning on driving back tonight, were you?" Jessica asked. "I can stay over if you have a place," Grant replied. "Probably shouldn't be on the road after it gets dark. Let me give Lisa a call." Lisa was his wife, and he gave the impression that they were a close-knit family, as most freeholder families were. "In that case, you want a beer?" she asked. Grant laughed. "Stop twisting my arm." She was in a pretty good mood, Carter thought. The events of last few days had put a cloud over things, one that wasn't likely to go away any time soon, but she was holding up well. The food ready, the began setting the table in the dining room and spent a relaxing hour before returning to the command post. They set the televisions to the major news channels, and Tommy and James used their computers to monitor a couple of the most useful of the web sites that they now called 'resistance channels', watching the chatter as the television provided the official version of the news. They watched the coverage of the collapsed transmission tower in Arizona, briefly turning up the volume to see if there were any developments. It seemed a reason for the separation of the tower from its foundation had not yet been found. "Was that one of ours?" Carter asked. "Yes, it was," Donald replied. "Our operatives used thermite to melt the bolts holding the tower legs to the base. It was a big job, a tower like that, but it worked perfectly. Over the past couple of years we've built a substantial stockpile of thermite, along with various explosives, incendiaries, and other things. The thermite we have here will probably be used at some point. As well as the dynamite. With the runway we can allow pickups from here to be delivered to anywhere we need them." "It looks the word is out anyway," said Tommy. "Whether or not the news people know it. There's chatter about it being either explosives or thermite. The consensus seems to be sabotage, though." "That suggests a leak, someone among the investigators, once they figured out what it was," Donald said. "If it takes the news a while to pick it up, they're probably withholding for some reason. Anything about railroads in there?" "I don't see anything yet," Tommy said. "What are we looking for?" "Depending on how ready they were, we should be seeing news about a blown railroad bridge, or two or three." Donald said. "That may be it," Carter said, pointing to the screen on the right. The picture showed a railroad crossing with a train rolling slowly through it. It soon changed to another scene, this one apparently away from the urban areas, with nothing but farmland around. Donald turned up the volume and they listened. Apparently three railroad bridges on a railroad running through rural Kansas had collapsed, all within a distance of over less than a hundred miles, within minutes of each other. Repairs were expected to take weeks, at a minimum. Nearby residents in the sparsely populated area reported hearing explosions. Apparently, the railroad had received a warning beforehand, but while they were able to stop traffic on that line, there was no time to search for the bombs planted by the saboteurs. "They would have had the bombs planted before they warned the railroad," Donald said. "Once they had time to stop trains on that line they detonated them. Those small bridges are everywhere along highways and railroads, crossing small streams and creeks. Most of the smaller ones are made of wood, easy to destroy. And a gap of fifty or a hundred feet or so, shuts down the railroad as effectively as blowing a bridge across a big river. It doesn't take as long to repair, but weeks of having a railroad out of commission causes a lot of disruption." "Railroads, electricity, highways - it adds up if you hit enough of them," said Jessica. "Do we have the ability to really cripple large cities, even one like Phoenix?" "We can cause considerable pain," Donald replied. "The large cities, especially, are quite fragile. Constant replenishment of food, in particular, is necessary. Even in suburban and rural areas most people don't have food for more than a few days, and in the urban areas with concentrated poverty, it's much worse. And so many of those people are completely reliant on what they need or want always being there. Once the supply chain is disrupted in a major way, you'll have riots in the affected cities." "Giving the government less time to look for us," said Carter. "I take it this is just a warning." "We'll look at the responses and try to get an idea of how desperate they are. These few incidents won't put enough pressure on them to contact us, I suspect. These people are not the smartest, far from it. Their arrogance will drive them to continue to work on suppression, long after they should have realized it isn't working. It's going to be a while." "Any more surprises in the works?" Carter asked. "I expect we'll see a few more collapsing power lines, bridges on both rail and highways, maybe some fires. It's especially dry in California this year, and they can have forest fires year round. We'll let this simmer for a while and see. We're especially interested in what the free-lancers do. In the end, they may do a lot of good work for us." "Looks like something new here," said Tommy. "Rural Tennessee, looks like some kind of commune, maybe preppers, religious commune. A little sketchy so far. James, anything on at Redline?" "Let me see." James had quickly adapted to working with Tommy in sifting the various websites where news travelled under the radar of the corporate media. Often it was much more current, with the bureaucracy of the commercial channels, and the necessity of aligning their output with the higher powers. Grant was looking over their shoulders, occasionally pointing out something. He had shared some of his resources with them as they worked on the setup, and had made a few improvements. "Allentown, Tennessee, see what is." Grant said. James clicked a link, scrolled. "These guys seem to know their stuff. What have they got?" "New thread, little over an hour old." said James. "It's busy. Let's see the newest entries." "It looks like Allentown, Tennessee, or nearby. It's not a big place, probably out in the country." he said after a couple of minutes. "Hilly," said Tommy, looking at a map of the area. "Allentown," Donald said. "That's one of the places the guys from Zebra Pass visited recently. Said it seemed like a pretty solid crew, might be worth working with. What happened?" "Some sort of raid," said James. "From the looks of it. Whole bunch of guys in black, a couple of SWAT vans. Shooting, lots of shooting. That's about it so far. Someone who goes by El Gato Negro says he has a good source and will get back soon." "That's a lot of action for one day," said Carter. "If this is just a teaser, even we are going to have trouble keeping up." "Fortunately," Donald said, "we at least will know exactly what's going on from our end. And we don't have to worry about the independents - we always counted on them being potential loose cannons. But they can't do us any harm really, only the enemy." "Anything else on the official news?" asked Jessica. "Nothing new," Donald replied. He had been monitoring the news channels. "There's still nothing on the tower. They may be able to conceal that for a while, but three rail bridges out simultaneously, on the same line, isn't going to be so easy. I would guess before the day is out they'll have to admit to what it was." By the time they decided to retire for the night, no new information on the tower was available, but the railroad bridges were assumed to be sabotage. As for the affair in Tennessee, the dominant rumor was that a religious commune had been assaulted by law enforcement, and not much more. That one would most likely make the news, Carter thought, wondering what had happened there. |
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Chapter 63 -- OGCVSRURZJXURSA
Grant Page had slept late. He and the others on the committee, along with several members, had spent the weekend at Luther's commune, setting up for a possible return by the authorities. They fairly certain that a check for the unregistered children would occur, and would probably be a pretext for a search for the fugitives. The fugitives, along with the twenty-eight children, had been taken over to Grant's enclave, to await developments. They had worked out some plans, including battle tactics in case it came to that. They had left small disguised radios for Luther and another of them to carry. He wasn't really expecting a visit on a Monday morning, but you never knew. He quickly shaved, showered and brushed his teeth, skipping breakfast but promising himself a cup of coffee later. Dressed in dark olive BDUs, he joined his other colleagues at the headquarters, with a dozen or so volunteers. All were armed with SIG516 rifles, a large quantity of which they had purchased some years earlier when the group had decided it was time to create a safe haven from the continuing encroachment of the government. They hadn't expected to need them so soon, but there it was, and had to be dealt with. The rifles were supplemented by .40 caliber handguns, carried in a variety of manners but most were in vertical shoulder holsters, secured to the belt, while some others were in belt holsters. They stood around in the area in front of the headquarters building, while Grant and the others were inside monitoring events at the neighboring camp. "I was thinking Monday was too early," Grant said, "but come to think about it, they just might show up early to surprise them." "Considering the last couple of operations," Arthur said, "we shouldn't be surprised if they show up with some heavy weaponry. They've been burned a couple of times now, and they don't like it happening even once." "They'll have trouble getting around in there in anything other than off-road trucks", said Gerald. "It's a good place to set a trap." "Which they may or may not consider," said Bill. "Unless they have some guys with military training or experience, they shouldn't try an assault." "Well, they can't surround it and starve them out," Grant said. "There's nothing on three sides of it but forest. So what do they do, if they want to do a search, or a mass arrest? Normally they might get away with it, only losing those who flee into the woods. But they're armed and prepared. And apparently not going to go quietly." The radio receiver startled them, Luther's voice coming over clearly as he spoke to someone. "The children you seek are not here," he said. "Neither are the two fugitives you seek. You have your warrant, you are free to inspect the place. You will not be molested as you do so. If you intend to do so, we would appreciate if you would be expeditious." They could not hear the response, but a number of voices were heard in the background. After a couple of minutes Luther spoke. "I'm alone for the moment," he said. "They are dispersing to search the premises. There are about twenty men on the property, and more, probably as many more, coming down from where they are parked on the road. Ted is here with me, he is wearing the other radio. I'll try to keep you updated." "They're going to toss the place," Grant said. "Under the circumstances, they're likely to express their annoyance in unpleasant ways. We should get moving." Riding in their off-road vehicles to a short distance from the encampment, they dismounted and walked to a place they had earlier found useful for observing the place without being seen. Grant and Bill used their field glasses to get a better view. as what appeared to be forty to fifty black-clad personnel moving about the area, entering houses and outbuildings, occasionally emerging to confer with others before continuing. They could see all the way to the highway, over the camp which was downhill. The back road to the area was clearly visible, and they expected that the searchers would check it out. Eventually they did, an off-road truck driving through the camp to the road and then disappearing. It was almost fifteen minutes before it returned. Their vantage point safe from detection, they watched. They heard Luther's voice on the radio. "It looks like they're finished. They're coming back towards me." "Let's get ready to move," Grant said. "If they leave, good. If not, there's likely to be trouble." They could see as several of the personnel approached Luther and Ted as they stood in front of Luther's house. Their words could not be understood, but then Luther spoke. "You have searched everywhere. They are not here. Now will you go?" Grant tried but could not understand the response. "What for?" Luther said. More unintelligible speech. "Something's wrong," Grant said. "You will do no such thing," they heard Luther say. Two of the men facing Luther and Ted had drawn handguns, and two more move behind them, grasping their arms and pulling them back. The crack of a rifle shot broke the quiet, and one of the men with the cuffs fell, and before the other one could move a second shot felled him as well. The two men with their guns on Luther and Ted broke and ran for cover, leaving Luther and Ted to fall back into the house. "Let's go," Grant called. "Remember. All black." They had told Luther's people to be sure they were all dressed in light clothing, particularly on the upper body. They were counting on the enemy being in the flat black uniforms. Grant and his men jogged into the clearing, spreading out as they ran. By now the enemy was in a state of confusion. Two or three were shouting orders, lost in the bedlam. More and more shots, mostly from handguns, added to the din. He saw a couple of the villagers fall, neither of them appeared to have been armed. He approached a house, two black-clad men about to enter. One kicked the door open and went in in a crouch, disappearing just before two shots sounded. The second one had gone in behind him, and Grant ran toward the open door. Inside, the two men in black stood over a young woman, unmoving and with red spots already appearing on her light blue blouse. Grant fired as the two turned towards him, catching the first one in the left shoulder while still in mid-turn, then hit the second in the throat. Turning to the first one, he saw the man was down on one knee, trying to raise his gun. A second shot ended that endeavor. He could hear constant fire now, mostly bursts of rifle fire, he recognized the sound of the little Ruger 9mm carbines they had left with some of the young men. As he turned toward the door he saw that one of the attackers had lost his helmet. Rather, her helmet. The end of the blonde ponytail was now red. He was glad they were wearing helmets and goggles - the residents of the camp might hesitate to fire facing a female combatant. Even he might, he thought, hesitate for a fatal second. The fire slackened and then stopped completely. Grant stepped out on the porch to see what looked like a scene from a battle in one of the third world hellholes so often in the news. Only how the hellhole was his back yard. He saw Arthur approaching, slung his rifle and stepped down from the porch. He looked grim. "The ones up on the road are hiding behind the vehicles," he said. "Quite a few, I believe. They weren't very eager to join in." Their crew, now wearing sky blue baseball caps, were moving with the residents among the carnage. They went over to where Luther and Ted were standing, by the bodies of the first two men who fell. "Luther, they're going to be all over us before long. Probably try a low-buck shock and awe. They'll screw it up just bad but if we're all dead it won't make much difference. We need to quickly assess the casualties, get any wounded to medical care and, well I saw one dead. There may be more." "There are," said Luther. He looked angry and sad, and the two emotions seemed to be fighting for control. Grant hoped anger would win - it would be needed if people these were to survive. Arthur and Douglas were approaching. Grant looked up at the line of vehicles along the road. He had do do something, anything, to defuse the situation. Quickly. "Art, how quickly can you and Doug get back to our place and then back up there, on the road?" "It'll take a few minutes. What do you have in mind?" "Go back, come down the road and approach them. Act innocent. Tell them you're from up the road and know some of these people. See it they'll let you help as a negotiator. You can do it. Improvise." "Got it," said Arthur. "Let's go." They headed toward the hidden entrance to the road to their place. "Luther," Grant said, "we need to buy them some time. Go on up, take Ted, and get them talking. In a few minutes Art and Doug will show up. They can take it from there. Take a white towel or something so they don't shoot you right away." Luther went into the house and got a white towel, and he and Ted began walking towards the road, holding the towel up. Bill and Gerald had arrived, and Grant filled them in. "Did we take any casualties?" he asked. "Couple of close shaves, but no." Bill said. "Any ideas on the locals?" "There are several dead, and quite a few wounded," said Bill. "Not sure how many are bad. The attackers have several dead as well, and some more that aren't going to make if if we don't get them out quickly." "All right, then," Grant said. "The first order of business will be to get them out, theirs and ours. Any prisoners?" Gerald grinned. "About a dozen, maybe ten or eleven if we let the ones that are just scuffed up a little go. Some of them just dropped their weapons as soon as they saw one pointed in their direction." "Figures," said Grant. "They're not getting the best and brightest these days, if they ever were. Anyone helping the badly wounded?" "Yeah," Bill replied. "Some of the locals are helping, now that their own are stable." "OK. Let's see what happens when Art and Doug get there. Shouldn't take long." |
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Chapter 64 -- XFQYOFXMYFOGNOJ
General Anthony watched the screens for alerts that might signal a coming summons to the White House. Earlier in the week he had met with Major General Myles Talbot. He confided his suspicions to Talbot and laid out he likely scenarios they could face. Talbot was equally pessimistic about the future, and was considering retirement if things got much worse. They were driving a rented car in the countryside outside DC - Anthony trusted no one, and was having to tread carefully. If he had a sufficient cadre of general officers the upper reaches of the army, with the ear of the chief of staff, he might be able to make something happen. "General Burbank is a reasonable man," Talbot said when Anthony asked for his assessment. "What he will do if put in that position, of imposing martial law, or attempting to, I don't know. He could be planning to retire even now, like some of the others. I'm almost certain that he would, if given that order." "That what's I fear," Anthony said. "And in the end the only ones left will be the ones who will do their bidding, and there are too many of those already. The only question is when to approach him on the matter. He's the one who will have to give the orders - I'm just the chairman, with no direct control. "I suspect it will be a while before it happens, but if this continues to grow the inner circle will panic. And since martial law over a country this size, even if they could double, or triple, the size of the army overnight is just not possible. It would only take us further down the path to complete chaos, maybe even a breakup of the country." "I believe you're right, Sir," Talbot said. "Even though you're on the inside and know a lot more than I do, I can see it." "You may have to make a hard decision soon, if something can't be done. Do you know Arthur Harris?" "Not well, but my assessment is that he's a lot like me. Which means he has no future in this army." "You think he'd be in our corner?" "No doubt, sir." "That's what I was hoping. I've got probably five or six more candidates, you can probably guess who some of them are. I'll try to get to each of them, see where they stand, in the next few days. We'll have to work out a way to communicate outside official channels. I'd like to have a backup plan in place well before we need it." "You can count on me, sir. I believe if you have the level below General Talley, he'll listen to any reasonable proposal." "Thanks, Myles," Anthony said. "Let's get you back to the airport." He went by his office before going home, sat down at his desk looking at the three large screens in front of him. He left them on all them time these days. It was looking like a slow news day, and he hoped it would be. He looked at the list of names on his computer screen. He would call Arthur Harris on Monday morning and set up a meeting. He hoped it would be as simple as getting together a cadre of officers who reported to the chief of staff to make the move when it was necessary. There was still time to get it done before the inner circle went mad with fear and did the unthinkable. Unthinkable to him, at least, or any sane person. He had the feeling that the people over him were not sane. He should take advantage of the slow day and get home, and spend some quiet time with his wife. Until a year or two ago he had entertained the idea of retiring and spending his days with his family, visiting old friends, and a lot of doing nothing. That no longer seemed likely. One of the screens suddenly went completely red for a couple of seconds, followed by the inevitable 'BREAKING NEWS' banner. He increased the volume and watched. The scene could have been any street in any city. "...this is the scene on Montgomery Avenue where a little over an hour ago a vehicle was demolished by an explosion, the nature of which is not yet known. As you can see, the vehicle is not only damaged as by an explosion but continued burning for some time, and some parts of were still burning and took some time to extinguish when the fire department arrived." It looked like many other car bombings he had seen photographs of videos of, crumpled metal most of the paint burned away, glass blown out. He suspected he would not be going home for a while. Sure enough, his phone rang. "General, Dean here. Are you watching television?" Great, he thought. Homeland Security. "I am. What's the situation?" "If you're looking at a burning car, it's what's left of Kenneth Mason. Know who that is?" "No, but I suspect you're about to tell me." "He's.. he was the ATF Director. He was in that car." "I see." And indeed he did. The ATF, or the BATF as it had been called for most of his life - he didn't know when or why it was changed, and didn't really care. Probably the most disreputable of federal agencies, it seemed to be him little more than a political tool. At least for those administrations determined to disarm the population. No need to wonder who or why. "You'd better get over here." "On my way." He went straight over to the White House, and was ushered to a conference room that had been set up as a regular meeting place for whichever of the team happened to be working on the 'problem', as it was now called. Jordan was there, with Simmons and the FBI Director, Robert Boling. "I'll get started," said Simmons. "We're still trying to run down the others." Anthony was fairly certain few if any of them had been in their offices, including Jordan and Simmons. He was also fairly certain he didn't need to be at a lot of these meetings. Something about him seemed to give them a feeling of security, and no matter the occasion he usually ended up having to explain something or make a suggestion to move the conversation along. "ATF Director Mason was driving on Montgomery, typical Saturday afternoon traffic, when he stopped for a minor traffic jam ahead of him. We have very little to work with at this time, but we do have something. The driver of a car behind him, said that he saw someone walking between the rows of cars, carrying a pizza, or what looked like a pizza box. The guy disappeared further up the street, and a couple of minutes later Mason's car blew up. ATF thinks something like a sheet of HE with a layer of thermite on top may have been used. "So someone blocked the traffic, had a guy with a bomb go up and slide it under the car." Boling said. "It seems so," said Jordan. "That was over an hour ago. We haven't heard of any other incidents so far. I called a meeting in case this starts to look like Black Friday. Let's pray it isn't." Strange choice of words, Anthony thought. I wonder if he, or any else in this outfit actually prays. And if so to whom and what for. It was more likely each was his, or her, own personal deity. Never especially religious himself, he had married a girl he had gone to church with as a youth, and while she was what he supposed was devoted to her faith, he had long ago let his career overcome all else. He thought now about the idea, what it actually meant to a person who practiced it. And if these people worshipped themselves, who or what was his god? "And if it is," he said, "what are we prepared to do? And is it the same people? Is there any progress on the investigation?" "We have a lot of leads, suspects, tips, and theories," Jordan replied. "And we're wading through them as fast as we can. At this point we're following those leads, investigating those suspects, and doing everything else possible to identify the perpetrators." "I'm not trying to be combative, Dean," Anthony said. "But if, and I hope it doesn't, if this turns into a replay of Black Friday, we've got real trouble. If these events, Kansas, Arizona, are related, and we don't even have anything. We're falling behind fast." "Would it help to know who they are and what they want?" Anthony asked. "Are you suggesting we negotiate with terrorists?" "I was thinking more along the lines of trying to find out who they are," said Anthony. I have to be careful here, he thought. The slightest suspicion that I'm not on board and I'm gone, probably replaced by a yes man. He wished he had had time to check out General Talley, his likely replacement if he was booted. "That would help," Dean admitted. Somewhat grudgingly, he thought. "So how would we go about that? "Good question," Anthony replied. "Until we have in our hands someone connected with this People's Liberation Army, we don't know how to even communicate with them. And I would guess that at this point, our only chance to find them is to see where the trail leads, if we do have some method of contacting them." "The only clue we have is the letter, the statement that they could call the White House if we agreed to talk. Since the phone number was only in the letter to the White House - it was redacted in the other copies - they apparently took our response as not agreeing to negotiate. Which was what we intended." "Well," Anthony said, "that was the only method they gave us. The question is, first, do we want to establish communications with them?" Jane Whittaker entered with Frank Simmons, and by the time they were seated Alice Lawson had arrived. Jordan updated them on the situation. "As I told Mark," he said, "we cannot be seen as negotiating with terrorists. That has been our policy and must not change now. Especially now." "What? Negotiating or being seen as negotiating?" Lawson asked. "We've done plenty of negotiating in the past, and denied it, even when everyone knew we did it." Anthony was glad the green light was coming from one of them. He had no doubts as to the outcome of this meeting. "I mean having it seen that way," Jordan said. "We're running out of options." "That's easy enough," Lawson said. "Now, just how out of options are we? We've got one person in custody who is apparently connected, and who knows when we'll get anything out of him. And that's all? Absolutely nothing?" "Nothing that tells us who is doing it," Boling replied. "Nothing," said Jordan. "We'll clear it with Harry and Robert when they arrive," said Jordan. "But we had better get started. What happened today may be an isolated incident, but I wouldn't count on it." "Robert," Jordan said, "the FBI is the most involved on the ground. You've got a handle on who's who in terms of the actors. Any ideas?" Boling was silent for as long as he dared be. He had to say something, anything to avoid appearing helpless. Which was exactly how he felt. He performed a hand steeple, buying a few extra seconds. "We will have to find a way to have them contact us, and be able to verify that it is them when they do. We have considerable evidence that there are already unrelated actions occurring. Freelancers you might say, taking advantage of the confusion. We can't just put the word out on the underground networks that we want to talk to the perpetrators of Black Friday. Or, we might..." He paused as if thinking. "Perhaps we can use their network," he said. "Put the word out. We're the only ones, I hope, that know the phone number and the code word in our copy of that letter." He looked around the table. "I'll take that as affirmative," he continued when no one responded. "So, it's a unique word, it won't show up anywhere by chance. We put it out there on the subversive networks, have some of our agents plant it in the chats, as if asking what it means. They're certain to see it, and they may take it as an invitation to call. We'll see if we can trace the call, or what other information we can get from it." "Anyone got a better idea?" Lawson asked. "Let's brief Harry and Robert, then, and form a plan. We'll need to be prepared." "A couple of things to consider," Anthony said, "is that they will almost certainly bounce calls around through numerous relays, some of them dead ends due to using VPNs. We need to have some sophisticated analysis to get an idea of where they are, and we may end up with nothing. So forensic analysis will be important. It may be our only chance to get something useful." "We'll need an enormous amount of data capture going on everywhere we have the ability to catch the call," said Boling. "Say the call is ten minutes - ten minutes of data capture of literally thousands of simultaneous calls, just to find that call will take a while. And as Mark said, if it gets bounced around through maybe dozens of relays, it will take a while to trace if. If it's even possible." "All right, then," said Jordan, "if Harry and Robert are on board, then let's get started. Robert, you're best positioned to get this moving, and to handle the setup on the call, if and when there is one. Anything else?" |
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Chapter 65 -- MYWPDMDRITFOAG
Arthur and Douglas quickly drove back to their compound. "We'll have to change clothes," Arthur said, "and hope none of them got a good look at us." Exchanging their BDUs for jeans and plaid flannel shirts, they got in Arthur's truck and drove to the entrance of their settlement. A right turn and a half mile down the road, around a slight bend, and they could see the vehicles around the entrance to Luther's colony. When one of the troops directing traffic waved them by, Arthur stopped and lowered his window. "What's going on?" he inquired. "Federal law enforcement operation," the man replied tersely. "Move along." They could see Luther and Ted standing over by what looked like an improvised command post, talking to some of the black-clad agents. "Hey, that's Luther down there," Douglas said. "You know these people?" the man asked. Arthur looked at the man's uniform. Over his left shirt pocket he could see the black lettering on a nearly black background. Simpson. "Doug does," Arthur replied, nodding towards Douglas. "I've run into some of those people in town." Simpson waved toward another man, who walked over. His name appeared to be Carter. "What is it?" he asked. "Guys here know these people. Can we use them?" "Maybe, we may need somebody to help with those guys. We got people shot down there, maybe dead." You certainly do, Douglas thought. "Let me talk to Luther," said Douglas. "Can we park somewhere?" "Over there," said Carter pointing to an open area off the road just ahead. Douglas got out and walked toward where Luther and Ted were, while Arthur parked the truck. After a brief hesitation Carter followed him. "Luther. What's going on here?" he asked as he approached. "They came in here, started shooting people," Luther replied. "Some of us defended ourselves." "They started the shooting," Carter said. Douglas raised a hand for quiet. "For now, let's get medical attention for those who need it. Do you have any ambulances on the way?" Carter turned to one of the men. "Get some ambulances out here," he said. "Whatever they've got in town, it's probably not much out here." Douglas wondered if he should be surprised at how a civilian passerby like him could effectively take charge of a government military operation. Maybe not, he thought, looking at the group, apparently confused and fresh out of ideas. They had apparently never had their quarry return fire, except for the recent incident that had brought the two fugitives into Luther's fold. The Waco affair was far in the past, and they did not know what to do in the face of resistance. But with the sorry state of the armed forces these days, the bureaucracy playing at war could likely only do worse. Arthur had just arrived from parking the truck, and Carter turned to address them. "You think you can help us end this without any more shooting?" Carter asked. "Let me talk to Luther privately," Douglas said. "And you might want to try to assess the situation. Can you send one of your men down with Arthur to do a walk-through. Just one." Carter delegated a man to go with Arthur, and the two of them left. Douglas walked with Luther a short distance away. "What are your casualties?" he asked in a low voice. They probably didn't have any long-range ears directed at them, but they might. "We've got three dead," Luther said. "About seven or eight wounded, they all looked like they'll make it if they get medical attention soon." "How about the others?" he asked. "At least five or six dead, I'm pretty sure. And some others badly wounded, a lot worse than any of ours. They and the ones who weren't wounded are under guard in a couple of houses, down to the left of where I live." "You know how many?" "Wounded, eight to ten I'd say. And about ten or eleven unhurt." "All right, let's see if we can make sure no one else dies. Either yours or theirs. I'll be back in a little while." He walked back over to Carter. "It looks like there are some dead," he said. "I guess you figured that. On both sides. I'll see what I can do, but with some of theirs dead and no prospects but prison if they surrender, this isn't going to be easy. But first, get those ambulances on the way. As many as you can." Carter turned to a subordinate. "How's it look?" he asked. "We've got two so far," the man replied. "We notified the hospital in Taylorville, it's not very big but they can connect with the closest ones and get them on the way. We're looking at twenty minutes minimum for the closest." "All right, stay on it." He turned back to Douglas. "You might want to let Luther go down and talk to his people," Douglas said. "They're a commune of sorts, have to agree on things. He can get that started. Ted might as well go if he wants to - it's not like they're going anywhere." "All right, you can go," Carter said to them. Luther and Ted walked back down to the village. "It may take a while for Arthur and your man to get back," Douglas said. "I can tell you it doesn't look good. You've got, how many personnel down there?" "Probably twenty, twenty five. We're still checking." Douglas let out a low whistle. "I'd like to ask you what the hell you thought you were doing," he said, "attacking a religious commune." He couldn't resist needling the man. "Of course, that seems to happen a lot lately." Carter got it, all right, briefly letting a venomous expression pass before speaking, but Douglas stayed ahead. "In any case, once they get the dead and wounded out we may be able to accomplish something. It's going to be dark before they get them all out. You'd better make some arrangements for your people. And hope this doesn't drag out." "Where are you from?" Carter asked, suddenly suspicious. "How'd you happen by?" "We've got a hunting club over there," Douglas replied, pointing vaguely down the road. "We're mostly retired or self-employed and live there most of the time. When we bought the place a few years ago this place was already here. I've seen Luther a few times in town. Found out he was the leader here." "You never knew he was a religious fanatic?"d Carter aske. Probably payback for my remark, Douglas thought. More likely he believes it. "Never noticed," Douglas replied, glad for the distraction of Arthur and the agent approaching. "What's the situation?" Carter asked. "As of now," said the agent, "six of our personnel dead. There are a couple more who may not make if they don't get help quickly. Of the remainder, twenty- two in all, ten are wounded and the others are unhurt. Three of the persons in the compound are dead and seven wounded. None of their wounds appear to be life-threatening." The first ambulance arrived, and was soon followed by another. When the last one left, almost four hours later, it had been dark for close to an hour. "You're not going to get anything done tonight," said Douglas, surprised at the ease with which he had essentially taken charge. Perhaps he shouldn't be, he thought. The man was in over his head, and appeared to be representative of the new crop of bureaucrats. Substituting indoctrination for education didn't bring out the best in people, since it essentially conditioned them to not think. "If you don't do anything, I'm sure they won't either. You want to have Luther come up and make sure you're on the same page?" Luther arrived and, satisfied with the arrangements, went back to his people. Carter called in for some meals to be delivered and some relief personnel. "What are you going to do?" he asked Douglas and Arthur. "Since we live just a few miles away, if you can keep from killing each other any more tonight, we'll go home and have dinner and to to bed. We can be back over at, when, seven or eight in the morning?" "That seems satisfactory," Carter said, having regained some of his composure. It looked as if the situation would be resolved shortly and he would be back in his office with additional points toward his next promotion. He didn't much like the two men who had helped him, but that didn't matter. By this time tomorrow he could be back in the field office in Knoxville, and be on television the next morning delivering the narrative of his successful operation. Once back at their headquarters, Arthur and Douglas joined the other committee members for a conference. "How do we get them out of this?" Gerald asked. "How about the easy way?" Grant replied, grinning. "You worry me when you do that," said Douglas. "Not this time," Grant said. "At least if we're lucky. The goons up there on the highway are going to be asleep, except for a few observers. They know the people in there can't go anywhere. Only they can." "You think they've left the back entry unguarded?" asked Bill. "They may very well have," Grant said, "but if so we'll use the path through the forest. But I'm guessing they never even noticed it. If so we'll use it. And we'll be sure their prisoners see which way they went, so they won't bother looking for the hidden road." "Well, let's get over and see," Bill said. The back road was indeed unguarded, and it wasn't likely to be checked now. The five of them kept an eye on the sentries up on the highway, using their night vision goggles. The four rather tired and now bored men leaned on the vehicles or talked to their comrades, rarely bothering to look in their direction. They were far enough away for the vehicles to be unheard as they made their way up the road, lights off until they were well away. It was slow going as even the members of the group who used the road frequently had to take care in the dark. But in a little more than two hours they were away. There would be questions, to be sure. About the men in dark green BDUs who did not look like the 'cult' members. With any luck they wouldn't be asked, and if they did some hints about a local militia would probably be eagerly consumed. Their own camp was clean, and if the secret road was not discovered they could probably avoid further contact with the authorities. Probably they would be glad to have it behind them. By noon the next day it was over. Whether or not they believed that Douglas and Arthur didn't know about the road they didn't press the matter. A few investigators stayed to comb through the settlement, and until they were gone cameras covering the hidden trail would be monitored. Inside the headquarters, the committee watched the news reports and occasionally got updates from Jeff and his crew. There was plenty of chatter on the underground channels, with plenty of celebration over the dead federal agents and outrage over the murder of the civilians. With the increasing unrest all over the country, there was probably little time to spare chasing down rebels, so probably they would soon be confined to responding to attacks instead of initiating them. It seemed they had, for the time, escaped notice. |
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Chapter 66 -- GKDUPWNYYXSANX
Carter helped Tommy and James load the last cases of dynamite into the truck, then went around to get in the passenger side. Jessica was driving, and Tommy and James followed in another truck. The drove away from the enormous steel grain bins toward the runway, where an incoming flight was expected. The forty boxes of dynamite in each truck would be loaded onto two flights, each taking half. A thousand pounds was close to the limit of the small aircraft, but a thousand pounds of dynamite could do a lot of damage, in one place or in several, depending on the objective. The bricks of thermite that had been flown away two days ago was very likely already being put to good use, as more accounts of toppled cross-country electric transmission lines came in, along with bridges, water towers, and other parts of the infrastructure. Television reports routinely showed miles of traffic backed up on highways, mostly the interstate roads supplying the largest cities. In some places water mains had and pumping equipment had been damaged, along with electrical distribution stations. The war was on and there was no going back. Carter looked over at Jessica as they waited. They often did not talk much when they were alone, each likely dealing with the stress of their position. A major insurrection was going on all over the country, and they were part of the prime mover. The fact that their involvement, even their existence, was still unknown was surprising. He hoped their luck would hold. They watched the small aircraft approaching, waiting as it landed and taxied to their position. The pilot opened the boarding door and helped them load the boxes, returned to the cockpit, and started the engines. In just over a half hour he was gone. "Now for the other," Jessica said, looking at her phone. "We're looking about twenty minutes. We should be just in time for lunch." They would spend the afternoon and evening as usual, watching news reports and monitoring the chatter on the patriot channels. Both were quite heavy and that wasn't likely to change soon. They sat in the cab of the truck, Jessica reached over to put her hand on his. He looked over, both tried to smile but the effort was forced. "Are you ever afraid?" she asked. "I mean, feeling like we're waiting, for something bad that's about to happen?" "Sure I worry," he said. "We wouldn't be normal if we didn't. But there's no way out, and we knew when we chose - try for freedom or live a pointless life. And I believe there's little chance now that they can win. Prolong it, maybe. Probably. But I hope not for long." "I've sometimes wondered what would happen if I'd just tried to have a regular life," she said. "But I know that there wouldn't have been one, the way things have gone. This is our only chance to have one." "You will," he said. "We will. We just have to get through this, whatever it takes." The second aircraft arrived, and the process went as smoothly as before. There were still large quantities of materiel in storage, and likely there would be more requisitions ahead. The pilot who had picked up the thermite was one who had helped fly the strike force out of DC. He told them their air traffic was busy and expected to increase. After lunch they assembled in the command post as usual. Donald briefed them on the developments so far. The operations continued at a steady pace, slightly increasing day by day, diverting more and more resources to repairing the damage. At some point there would be a complete breakdown. "Chicago is, just from what they're letting out, not just a figurative hellhole but an actual one," Donald told them. They're averaging a dozen killings a day - and that's just the ones we know about - and the crowds are uncontrollable. The police are fortifying areas and defending them, protecting the critical parts of the city, and everything else is being left to burn. "Food, water, electricity, everything is compromised not only in Chicago but most of the other big places. We stayed away from New York for the most part, and LA hasn't seen it bad yet - if we hit the aqueducts they will - but the other trouble spots are getting it. Portland, Seattle, Minneapolis, Atlanta. We're also going easy on Texas because they're still in our camp, but we did take some gratuitous hits at Austin and Houston. But the main thing is to spread their resources so thin they can't stay up. "Aside from that, for the moment, here's something important. Tommy, James, this is something to look for. This morning I got a triple-coded message from the Council. Here's what you should be looking for." He handed a paper to Tommy. "Mustafa Shakespeare?" Tommy asked. "The letter to the White House, but not in the other copies, stated that if the government wished to communicate we would call the number in the letter and use that as a passphrase. The other copies just said we would call. Apparently that name has been introduced into the chat networks. They know we monitor them, and so they threw the name out there. "We believe they want another chance, and if we call the number and give them the passphrase they'll know it's us." "So their only chance was to throw it out there for everyone and his dog to see." Tommy said. "But only we know how to use it. I would guess that's what they are saying." "We're preparing a message to the White House," Donald said. "It should be delivered in the next day or two. The Council head and two lieutenants have already left the country, with several key personnel to handle communications. When the call comes in it will not only be routed through a dozen or more relays, but it will originate from outside the country. And if they manage to identify the source, he can move quickly. In our case, he can be gone much more quickly than the government could contact the government where he is and attempt to have him arrested. Not that it would matter if they did." Carter knew that the Council structure was designed to be fault-tolerant, so that if one or more, even several of the members were eliminated, it could continue to function. "The call, if it happens, will be recorded and shared with all the members," Donald said. "It would be naive to expect them to agree to our terms, but if not, we go forward with a clear conscience." Carter wondered how clear his conscience was already. He suspected innocent people had died by now, and more would. But if noncombatants died when bridges were blown up or dams breached by them, in spite of warnings being given, was there blood on his hands? "So maybe in a day or two we have, almost certainly, a rejection," Jessica said. "Escalation?" "Yes," Donald replied. "They're in a bad way now, resources already stretched. And hurricane season is here. It can't hurt us but just adds to their problems. We hope that at some point someone will read the writing on the wall before it gets too bad." "Who's going to do that?" asked Jessica. "The administration, they're not much better than idiots." "If nothing else, desperation might accomplish something. They probably still think that as a last resort they can impose martial law. It won't work, but they don't know that yet. I don't know who the inner circle are, who pulls the strings, but the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is still there. He may be the only one who can talk some sense into them." "Well, Mustafa Shakespeare is definitely trending, as they say," Tommy said. "When did they put it out?" "Early yesterday, I believe," Donald said. "Well, news travels fast," Tommy said. "I see the fiasco in Tennessee is getting a lot of interest." "That one is interesting," said Donald. "That place is near the one we were talking about, that Brad and Alex from Zebra Pass visited. It was located near them. From the descriptions so far, I wonder if they were involved." "Something strange happened," Tommy said. "Just a brief synopsis - this is from someone going by GreenRipper. He usually has good info, usually ahead of time because it can take a while to confirm it. Here's what he's got: Early Monday morning a federal task force approached the settlement with search warrants. Doesn't know what they were for. During the search, the agents were dispersed around the village, he calls it. So apparently a number of houses. Shooting started, and went on for a while, finally stopped. Apparent discussion between the two parties. The feds stood down for the night, apparently thinking they controlled the only egress points. The next morning they went in and found everyone gone, apparently through an unknown back road they weren't watching." "After all that shooting?" Jessica asked. "Who got shot? If the any feds got it they'd stay there until everyone inside was dead." "Yeah," Tommy said. "Let's see if there's anything later." He and James worked for a few minutes. Carter and Jessica looked up at the television screens. There didn't seem to be anything new, but with constant scenes of destruction it was difficult to know what was new. Even 'Breaking News' was often hours old. "Here we go," Tommy said. "This is from another source, usually pretty good. It seems there were several wounded or killed on both sides. A large number of ambulances were seen arriving and leaving over a period of two to three hours. That would be strange if some feds got shot and they just walked away." "There are going to be some strange things going on, if there aren't already," Donald said. "They're spread pretty thin and it's getting worse. |
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Chapter 67 -- NQOCOJLMTCPARRQKRV
"All right," said Dean Jordan, "everyone ready? Just over ten minutes." All of the group were present, as well as the president. The People's Army had made it clear in their message that their representative would be speaking to the president and no other. It would be a minor problem - Jane Whittaker, the president's chief of staff, would operate the mute button the desk phone he would be using. The speaker was on but it was one way - they could hear the caller but the caller could only hear what the president spoke into the handset. This should be manageable, she thought, as she had to monitor all of his phone conversations and signal to him where he was going off script. The others sat around the president's chair in a half circle, waiting. At 1930 the phone rang, just as the PLA had promised. The president answered. "This is President John Kelly speaking," he said. "To whom am I speaking?" The voice would be disguised, they knew, but this one sounded quite natural. A very good voice synthesis, if it was that, but almost as if the speaker's voice was converted to data and then back to a synthetic voice. It seemed the voice of an average man of middle age, but of course a fake voice was a fake voice. "My name is not important," the caller said. "Obviously I will not identify myself at this time. You should also be aware that I am not inside the United States or any of its territories. You will attempt to trace this call to its source, you are welcome to try. Now, let us get down to business. "As we stated in our letter, we wish to discuss ending hostilities. In our letter we stated that we were willing to enter into a truce to be observed until such time as a treaty is arranged. "However, there is no reason for a truce if you are not inclined to agree to our terms, which are as follows: "The Constitution of the United States will be restored as the ruling authority. This means that a large number of laws, implemented over many years, must be repealed. We will provide a list of those laws, and a framework for expediting this action. Further, you will agree to a review of amendments to the constitution. This will consist mainly of a clarification of the amendments in the Bill of Rights, to prevent them from being violated in the future. Finally, you will release a number of persons who are at present incarcerated by the federal government. None of these people are murderers or other violent criminals, all are imprisoned for political reasons, in violation of the constitution. These prisoners must be released immediately, as a sign of good faith. "These terms are not negotiable. If you are unwilling to comply, we will continue as before. The only result will be more death and destruction, and more human suffering, for which you will be responsible. "If you agree to these terms and begin to comply immediately, we are willing to grant a universal amnesty to all members of this government, in the present or past administrations. There will be no prosecutions or penalties, financial or otherwise, imposed on past members of the government. If you do not comply, we cannot guarantee such an offer will be extended in the future. "Again, these terms are not negotiable. Aside from that, we will entertain any questions you have." "Please hold for a moment," Kelly said, looking around helplessly. "Obviously we're dealing with a madman, or mad men," Jordan said. "We reject the entire proposal. Anyone?" He looked around, they all nodded. "Tell him no to everything," Whittaker said, toggling the mute button. "Whoever you are," Kelly said, "we reject all of your demands, as you should have expected. We are willing to discuss a way to end this situation, if you are willing to negotiate. We can not promise amnesty, as many serious criminal and treasonous acts have already been committed. However, we are inclined to be as lenient as the law allows, if you agree to end these actions immediately and surrender." "Mr. President," the caller said, "you are in no position to demand or offer us anything other than an agreement. What you have seen thus far is nowhere near what we are able to do. If you are unwilling to deal with us, you will have to deal with the people. Already you are near the limits of you ability to deal with the situation. If you will not reconsider, then we have nothing further to discuss." Kelly looked down at the paper Whittaker pushed in front of him. "As I told you," he said, "there will be no negotiation. We do not negotiate with terrorists and murderers. While we do not wish to further inconvenience the people, we will if necessary place the country under martial law until this situation is resolved. And I can assure you it will not end in a manner favorable to you." I wish he hadn't said that, Anthony thought. But he knew that was where it was going. At least they would demand it. And when he tried to explain why it couldn't be done, the president would fire him - would be told to fire him - and the same demand would be made of his replacement. Which would probably be Talley. Anthony hadn't gotten to him yet, but he had the other generals on his list in his corner, and was fairly certain Talley would have no choice but to either resign to avoid the ugly task or try to carry it out. And without the men under him... Anthony had to get to him and see what could be done. "In that case," the caller said, "there is indeed nothing more to discuss. I will give you one more opportunity after this, if you wish it. Please record these words: Neptune Omega Cobra. You may use them in the same manner to make contact. We suggest that you not waste this last opportunity. That is all." The connection was immediately broken. Anthony groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long night. "Well, there you have it," Jordan said. "We have nothing," Simmons said. "What was the point?" "For them or us?" Springfield asked. "We initiated the contact this time. What were we expecting? The fact that they made no effort to contact us suggests they believe they are dealing from a position of strength." "Why shouldn't they?" asked Boling. "We nearly in a state of paralysis already. I don't know if he was serious when he suggested they had a lot more than what they've shown us, but if he was we're in a lot of trouble." "Do you have nothing at all, Robert?" Lawson looked at Boling. "We have a lot of everything," Boling replied. "We have over sixty incidents of sabotage, mostly, a few murders - assassinations - counting Mason in DC, Richardson in Minneapolis, two more probables - we just haven't confirmed homicide yet. You know the rest, Chicago, Atlanta, Detroit, can't keep the lights on or water running, out of food, bridges and overpasses on interstates and railroads being blown up - it takes a minute to destroy what takes weeks or months to replace. If we don't find the nerve center and kill it, we're screwed." "And you're nowhere nearer to finding it?" asked Jordan. "Out of all this," said Boling, "we've got a few dozen suspects whom we can't find, we have dozens of witnesses who can tell us they saw something blow up or fall down, nothing we don't already know." "An army of ghosts?" Whittaker asked. Boling did not respond, but everyone could see that was what he was thinking. Fear permeated the atmosphere. Fear for careers, to be sure. Even now, that was the first concern. But beneath that was the unsettling idea of something beyond their ability to control. "And for the kickoff of this game, Black Friday," said Jordan "we've got what? One suspect who isn't talking, and probably won't. And if he does, what if he's one of a hundred independent cells, none of which know anything except a voice on a phone and cash exchanged in a parking lot?" "You're positing something," said Lawson, "that can't exist. An organization that tight, that well organized, that well financed, operating under our noses for the years it would have taken to set this up. Is our years of intelligence not yielding anything of use. We've got enough data, we've been collecting it long enough, we should have something on every man, woman, dog and cat in this country to know who's doing what and when and where they're doing it. And it's doing us no good at all." "That's part of the problem, Alice," Jordan said. "Even as we speak, our analysts are taking that data apart and processing it in every possibly useful manner, but it could take months, at a minimum and years at worst. We don't have either one. The other part is this - as good as our data collection is, it really only gets information on those who play the game. If a guy buys explosives, or materials to make them, rents or even buys a truck to haul them, stays at motels and buys gas along the way, he leaves a trail. Unless he doesn't leave a trail." "What are you talking about?" she asked. "We can only see what is there to see," Jordan replied. "If it isn't there we'll never see it. If our guy buys the stuff and pays cash, and pays for his motels and gas the same way - or uses a prepaid debit card - and otherwise stays out of sight, there is no trail. And using burner phones, and like the cards changing them often, these people are invisible." "I don't understand how we haven't gotten rid of both already," Lawson said. "If we don't have those laws in development already, we should. And let this be a lesson." Anthony cringed inwardly as she spoke. It wasn't unexpected, but laid out so nakedly it was unnerving. Probably everyone at the table thought the same, but if their privacy was invaded they wanted people to go to prison. Somehow, he thought, we have become so much like our enemies it's hard to tell the difference. For all he know, Russia and China might be more liberal than his own country before long. He knew what was coming, and braced for it. "Mark," Springfield said, "if we have to go the martial law route, what will it take to lock down the country the way we would have to?" Explaining the facts was not an option. They didn't want facts if they didn't fit their purpose. In the immediate situation, there was no choice. Go along, or pretend to, long enough to get to Talley, find a way to defuse the situation. "That's going to be a tall order," he said. "You should get with General Talley immediately, if you intend to go that way it's going to take a lot of planning. But there's one other thing. Our two main concerns, internationally speaking. They're watching us closely, as they always do. With China in particular, how to we want to act with them watching every move for signs of trouble for them?" If they thought they knew what meant, he said to himself, they were as wrong about that as they were about everything else. He knew every one of them was bought by someone, and in most cases the trail eventually led to China. They would answer his perfectly reasonable question without realizing his intent. "That's something we have to consider," said Barwick. "We need a China strategy on this, and we haven't had one. I'll start by calling the ambassador and see what he's picking up over there, and get with our intel people to see what the trends are over the past three, four weeks. And the idea of martial law, we should tread carefully there. The situation is bad now, if it makes it worse..." Anthony was thankful for the distraction. Perhaps it could be forestalled, but he needed to get with Talley ASAP. "Go ahead and talk to General Talley," Springfield said, "but just to be ready in case we have to do it. Don't let any talk get out in the ranks. That could cause real problems." "I'll contact him immediately," Anthony said. |
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Chapter 68 -- RWONKZPNMGVXBRQ
Mark Anthony could not ever remember being actually fearful of anything to the point of having a physically sickening feeling. But he felt it now, and it was not only because of the possible consequences if this meeting went wrong. He knew he was right, a half dozen subordinate general officers agreed with him, and he was fairly certain James Talley agreed with him. He knew the man fairly well already, and had combed his records looking for any clue that he would fail to do what he should. But what he should do was technically illegal at best and treason if anyone bothered to bring that charge. Technically. And this government would seize any technicality to further its ends, and if one was not available it would simply ignore the constitution and the law. As it had already been doing for years, thus bringing about this crisis. He was expected to be meeting with General Talley to set up a plan for imposing martial law on the country, and so he was. He had called Talley the previous evening to let him know he wanted to meet. Talley was surprised, as the chairman's job was as an adviser to the president and the Secretary of Defense. However, being told that Anthony was representing the president's task force dealing with the current unrest, he assumed it was something to do with that. They were at the moment driving on the Beltway in Anthony's personal car, which he never allowed into the hands of anyone except his personal mechanic, a longtime friends and retired officer who had opened a garage in the area, mostly as a hobby, providing special service to his friends. He also inspected the car regularly, inside and out, for surveillance or tracking devices. "James, this is a little unusual," Anthony said, "but we're in an unusual situation." "That's putting it mildly, Sir" Talley said. "We agree about that, at least. There's no other way to tell you this, so I'll get right to it. I'm authorized to tell you, since you'll be the one who gets tagged." Without moving his head he saw, in his peripheral vision, Talley looking over and then quickly back to the front. "At our meeting yesterday evening the subject martial law came up," he said, this time turning briefly to get Talley's reaction. The look was what he expected. The response was what he had hoped for. "Insanity," he said. "I'm glad we're on the same page," Anthony said. "How do you plan to deal with it if it happens? Keeping in mind that if they do, and you and I won't go along they'll fire us and appoint a new Army chief and Joint Chiefs chief until they get some who will." "One who'll try, you mean. I would like to think they'd run out of generals first, but I'm sure they would find one." "Exactly. And you and I know it would be a disaster no matter who tried it." "Of course," Talley said. "First, it can't be done. Three or four, five times the army we have couldn't do it. Beyond locking down most of the cities." "And that's what they don't understand," Anthony said. "The threat is coming from out there." He waved a hand toward the window. "Flyover country, they call it. Out there in the small cities and towns, out in the country farms - that's where this is coming from. I suspect it's been out there, smoldering in dozens, hundreds of places, for quite a while now. It appears that something has happened to merge all those little brush fires into a firestorm." "In you position you must privy to information I don't have," Talley said. "If they're talking about martial law. Who is they? Does it include the Secretary of Defense? He's the one I take orders from." "It does," Anthony replied. "Defense, Justice, Homeland Security, State. And not a one of them, or for that matter all of them collectively, is equipped to deal with this." "How would you deal with it?" Talley asked. "I wouldn't have gotten into this situation, of course, and neither would you," Anthony said. "And they're not going to the one thing that can save them, and the country." "What is that?" "You've seen the letters that were distributed by the People's Liberation Army. The White House got a unique copy, with information allowing them to communicate with the PLA. There was a phone call to the president, in which they stated their demands. Absolutely non-negotiable demands. "They were quite simple, actually. A repeal of all unconstitutional laws - which is probably about ninety percent of the federal code - and a refinement of the Bill of Rights, to ensure it can not be misinterpreted again. And a release of political prisoners, but that's rather trivial by comparison. What they want is nothing less than returning the country to wherever it was, whenever you like, pre-Civil War, pre-Depression, you get the idea." "I'm guessing we're off the record," said Talley. "That's why we're driving around the Beltway in my car. What is said here by either of us goes no further." "Thanks," Talley said. "I would have assumed so, but you know what happens when you assume. What you're describing is where we would be if the Constitution had not been twisted and perverted for about, at least a hundred years. Some of the rot, both political and societal, goes back even further." "I take it you agree with my assessment of the government, at least," Anthony said. "Completely." "What would you do, I should say, what will you do? It is going to happen. I suspect that by the time we get back to our offices, the news will be full of more bombings, more sabotage of infrastructure, probably more assassinations. My next meeting will probably end with orders to the Secretary of Defense to impose martial law. "Aside from the fact that it is impossible to do what they envision, it's the wrong thing to do. And it may be the end of the United States, at least as the republic as founded, and probably as a single entity. A breakup is not only possible, but probable." "You're right," said Talley. "You and I, as military officers, swore an oath to the Constitution. Of course, the president and members of Congress do as well, to defend the constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. When the domestic enemy is one bound by the oath, for me it's a matter of knowing who the enemy is." "So we defend the constitution against the president and congress?" "Yes." "In the little time you've had," Anthony said, "have you formed any ideas about how to do it?" "No. I haven't." "When the order comes from the President, the Secretary of Defense will pass it on to you. Then what? As I said, if you and I quit, they'll eventually find one who'll do the job. Or try. And whoever it is will be so incompetent it will be even worse. At that point, I believe, the Republic is over." "Do you have a plan?" Talley asked. "There's only one way to do it," said Anthony. "The men we need are already on board - the key commanders. If you have to give operational orders they'll be carried out, but I believe there will be no need. We can stop it at the top." "Meaning you've gone behind my back," said Talley. "No sense in coming to you unless I knew they would support it. I couldn't be sure of you until I had talked with some of them." "We're in a bad situation," Talley said. "You were right - I'm not sure what I would have done." |
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Chapter 69 -- EQSDWYANVQZGFINQVDNSM
Walking slowly and clumsily in leg irons and manacles, Scott James moved between the two guards down the aisle of the courtroom. The room was nearly empty - the only action today was a hearing of his request that he be moved to another facility. The cell where he had been in solitary confinement for weeks wasn't that bad, as solitary confinement goes, and the new one was probably not any better. But to accommodate his requests for a couple of innocent creature comforts, given in exchange for his cooperation, he had to be moved. And moving would involve a ride in a prisoner transport van. Days earlier he had, accompanied by his new lawyer, offered to cooperate. The lawyer was of course sent by the League, to facilitate his escape. Knowing that their conversations were monitored, even the supposedly private ones permitted between lawyers and clients, he had begun to build a trap. Pretending to be attempting to persuade him to cooperate, the lawyer dropped hints that were eagerly consumed by the listeners. Believing that they finally had some useful information, the government lawyers offered to deal. Once he began talking, he embellished the hints he had dropped with details. He was a member of a nationalist militia, he admitted. The 'New Republican Army', it was called. He wasn't sure how many members there were because the organization was compartmentalized for security, and most of the members knew only a few others. No, he didn't know where the central headquarters was, or even if it had a fixed location. Yes, his section camp, as they called it, was always the same. How many members? About forty to fifty, not sure exactly. And so it went, seven or eight hours over two days. He couldn't miss the elation in their eyes as the story was filled out, each time they went over the same subjects looking for inconsistencies. And finding none because everything he told them about existed. The camp, its location, the layout. He knew they would have it under surveillance from the time he told them its location, and the men at the camp would know as well. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Outside the courthouse the sky was grey and a light breeze blew leaves and street debris across the sidewalk as they walked to the van. He sat in the assigned seat, a guard on either side and two more in the seat behind. Another sat beside the driver. The Thursday afternoon traffic was as light as it ever got here, and the ambush vehicles had plenty of room to maneuver. Before the driver or guards had any hint of trouble, the windshield was penetrated by a large object which quickly flooded the interior of the van with gas, and within seconds the driver sagged in his seat and leaned over, suspended by the seat restraints. The other occupants went almost as quickly, as two small cargo trucks came alongside, sandwiching the van between them and forcing it to a stop in the median. One of the trucks moved away to allow a pair of SUVs to stop beside the van. Men emerged and quickly opened the van's side door. Two of them were wearing gas masks and entered to unfasten the prisoner, and seconds later were carrying him to one of their vehicles. Both quickly disappeared into the traffic. Everett Fallis was in his hotel room when the call came in. It was his boss, who was personally overseeing the operation. "How soon can you move?" the boss asked. "Any time," he replied. "We were waiting for a go-ahead." "You've got it," the boss said. "Our informant escaped from custody a few minutes ago. We don't want to risk him contacting them." "It will take us twenty, thirty minutes to assemble," Fallis said. "Go ahead. He won't be able to contact them that soon, even if he was inclined to. Try to take some prisoners." "Got it." The line of Humvees was rolled across a countryside dotted with farmhouses and barns toward a wooded area about forty acres in size, enclosed by a fence of posts and planks. The layout of the interior was known from aerial photography taken by drones flown over in previous days. Thermal imaging suggested the number of persons was accurate. The major structures were several long buildings the informant had told them were apartments for about the approximately half of the force that lived on site. Smaller buildings were scattered around, along with some vehicles, a handful of small travel trailers, and a few piles of unidentified objects. Altogether it looked like similar sites the government had raided The six Humvees followed by three trucks full of armed agents drove through the gates, splintering and scattering the lumber they were made from, continuing towards the large building in the center. But they didn't get that far. Each vehicle had taken multiple hits from RPGs by the time the last truck cleared the gates, and the barrage continued as the men began scrambling from the vehicles and seeking cover. But the trees lining the road were hiding the men with the launchers and dozens of men armed with automatic weapons. It was a slaughter. The defenders called for cease fire, having disappeared into the trees with most of the intruders down or hiding behind their vehicles. "Cease fire! Cease fire!". The command was coming from speakers on poles around the center of the compound. The firing stopped. "Attention! Commander, come forward and identify yourself. You will not be harmed. Come out and stand in front of the lead vehicle." There was silence and no movement for several minutes. "If your commander is incapacitated, send out your ranking member. Hurry it up." After a couple of minutes a two men emerged from somewhere in the line of wrecked vehicles and walked slowly to the front of the line. "One of you, walk forward towards that building in the center. You are covered by over a hundred guns. Do as I say and you will not be harmed." One of the two began walking, hands held out to the side. As he came closer two men left the area around the entrance and walked forward to meet him. "Identify yourself," one of them said. "I'm agent Kenneth Schumer, ATF," the man said, holding up his ID. "Our commander is wounded or... dead. I don't know." "All right, Agent Schumer. There's no need for you to know who I am. All you need to know is that you have been had. Do you understand that?" The man looked shocked, as he well should. While he may have heard about recent cases of federal agents being resisted with such force, what he had experienced was probably beyond his ability to imagine. "Yes," he said. "I do. May I call for assistance for my personnel?" "You certainly may. In fact, you can do whatever you like. This place was a trap set to teach you people something. My men are evacuating, even as we speak. We will join them shortly - don't be so foolish as to try to follow." He and the other turned and walked toward the building, not looking back. Schumer did not know if there were still men in the surrounding woods, so he waited for a few minutes before going back. Scott James finished shaving and picked up the toothbrush. He liked to be clean and weeks in jail, particularly as the most unpopular inmate where the management was concerned, and not been pleasant. He hadn't shaved as he anticipated being sprung at some point, and for changing his appearance removing a beard was easier than acquiring one. After he brushed his teeth he enjoyed the first civilized shower he had had in weeks, and then got dressed in the clothes his rescuers had brought. It would be a while before he could leave the safe house. His extraction had gone about as smoothly as could be expected. He still felt a little unsteady, a result of the gas, but it should be worn off before long. He turned on the television in his room and watched one of the news channels. Before long a 'Breaking News' segment came on, and he watched with interest to see what it was. His lawyer had not been able to tell him anything about the League's operations as any such communication would have been overheard by his captors. He recognized the subject of this one. It was the place he had used to set a trap for the enemy. The pictures were of smoking military vehicles, and not much of that. It looked like the news crews had gotten a brief segment and were using it repeatedly. Probably the government had restricted access. It wasn't important - he would be safely among his own people before long. One of his rescuers entered the room. "How you feelin', man?" he asked. "I'm Andy." "Pretty good, now," Scott replied. "Still a little woozy, from the gas I guess. But it seems to be wearing off." "Sounds good. As soon as we get you out of here we'll have a doctor look you over. You didn't find any signs they put a tracking device on you somewhere, did you?" "No. They probably weren't expecting me to get loose. They hadn't even gotten to the point of drugging me yet, but they probably would have before long. So I used the setup to trap them and hopefully get them to move me so you could spring me more easily." "It went well," Andy said. "You're outside Alexandria. It's pretty safe to move out here, but we aren't taking any chances. We have a private runway here, fairly active these days with us moving people in and out of the area. Anyway, early in the morning we'll put you in a car, with clean papers, and drive you there. It's about ten minutes, so there's not much exposure on the ground. Even so, we'll have a couple of cars for insurance. You about ready to eat something?" |
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Chapter 70 -- BUVKWNMPNUE
General Anthony scanned the screens in front of his desk, occasionally checking the time. In a few minutes Margaret would appear in the door, and it would be time to go. The news was nonstop disasters now. The massacre of federal agents at a militia compound, more downed transmission towers, clusters of cell towers going down leaving critical areas without service. More bridges, both highways and railroads, were going down. He watched a scene of water flowing over a small embankment dam somewhere, he didn't yet know where and probably wouldn't. Events were moving too fast, and the peak of the crisis was about to come. The gap in the dam was widening even as he watched. Evidently the final, complete failure was not far off. He could see a large lake behind it, and wondered if the people in danger downstream had been warned in time. On another screen more 'Breaking News' was being announced. He checked the time again, closed his briefcase just as Margaret appeared in the door. MSgt Bowie drove him to the White House where, even though he was early he was the last to arrive. The meeting was in the usual room, and the faces were grim. He suspected that for the first time in their lives they were genuinely frightened. Political infighting, even the prospect of being caught in some of their misdeeds and penalized, rarely seemed to worry them much. Jordan came straight to the point. "General, as I've just told Harry, we have no choice," he said. "We must impose martial law. We're all in agreement." He waited for a response. "No choice at all?" Anthony asked. He knew in their minds that there was not. "Dammit, General," Jordan said, "if we don't do something now it may be too late to do anything. The country is in a panic now, and if we don't give them some reassurance, we don't know what may happen. And it's not just the general population. JFK and LAX are jammed with people leaving the country. I'm talking about the ones with the money to just pack up and leave. The ones that make the country work. Dozens of the biggest ones, with private planes that can fly non- stop to Europe, have already left. The others are trying to get commercial flights out, tickets are being scalped for hundreds of thousands of dollars, just for a flight out of the country. People think it's the end." "I see," Anthony said. And he did. It might be the end, but the end would be sooner and more decisive if their madness was allowed to prevail. "What are the plans for government operations?" Anthony asked. He would need to get the president and the inner circle out of DC, somewhere he could get control of them. "What do you mean?" Jordan asked. "With the country under martial law, you understand - particularly in light of the cause - unrest will increase, at least for a time. People who aren't acting up now will begin to. Washington, and the White House in particular, will be the center of attention. It's not a good idea for us to be here, or for that matter for our location to be known." "What are you thinking?" Jordan asked, looking around the table. "Good point," Springfield said. "At the least there will be demonstrations and probably riots here. Where is the best place?" "Camp David is too well known," said Jordan. "Secrecy is important." Please say it, Anthony thought. Make it your idea. "How about Carver's Point?" asked Whittaker. "It's easy to seal off, and if the president's actual location isn't known his summer home won't attract any attention at a time like this." "Until the whole entourage shows up, Secret Service and all," Boling said. "We'll have to keep it low key," said Jordan. "It's almost separated from the mainland, it's fairly easy go fly most of us in using regular chartered helicopters. The president can't get in unnoticed, but the fact that no one sees him leaving won't prove he isn't there. Send Marine One down to Miramar to wait for him to leave. Hopefully we won't be there long." "That seems like a good idea," Springfield said. "It's better than Camp David or Raven Rock," said Jordan. "Raven Rock would be taken as a sign of fear." "Mr. President, are you comfortable with that?" Whittaker asked. "I believe it would be a good idea," he said. At times Anthony's contempt for the man threatened to appear on his face. The way the others seemed unaffected by it surprised him, but perhaps, he thought, it shouldn't. They saw him as a tool, to be used for its purpose as a mouthpiece, as impersonal as a telephone or a computer. "All right," Jordan said, "we'd better get started." As soon as he got back to his office General Anthony called General Talley and set up a meeting, and they took another ride in Anthony's car. "We're going to be going out to Carver's Point," Anthony told him. "It's the one place where we can secure the president and the inner circle with relative ease. If we can get control of them, we just might be able to fix this without too many more people getting killed." "What do I need to do?" "For the moment, whatever they tell you. The Secretary of Defense will issue some sort of order. This is something that's never been done before and even a smart person would have trouble figuring out what to do. And these people aren't smart. You'll most likely get a vague order to do something and it's up to you to figure out how. You'll be able to spend some time getting ready, before any action is actually required. Play it by ear - I'm going to try to buy us some time." After he dropped Talley off Anthony went back to his office. In a strange way the pressure was off for a while. They wouldn't expect any action until the martial law order was issued, and results for a while after that. He took out an encrypted phone he seldom had to use, but now was a time it was definitely needed. He looked for a name, looked at it for a moment, then dialed. Hoping the number was still good. "Hello Mark," the man answering the call said. "It's been a long time." "It has, Leo. How've you been?" "Well, Mark, you know. I'm not getting any younger." "You've got a ways to go," Anthony said. "Are you expecting to enjoy it, or are you as pessimistic as I am?" "You know more about the future than I do, I'm sure," Leo said. "But it isn't looking good from where I'm sitting." "Yeah, I know what you mean. If you could change it, would you?" "You know I would," Leo said. "Listen, Mark. I got two kids, you know them. Anthony's passed the bar, he's in with a good firm in Connecticut. No thanks to his father - I could pay for the best education but I can't erase my reputation. But fortunately, well anyway Lisa's interning at St. Mary's. They've got bright futures." "Except for one thing," said Anthony. "That's what I called about. I need something. Not for me or you but for four hundred million other people, including Anthony and Lisa." "How can I help?" "I need, desperately, to make contact with someone in the next few days. You've been keeping up with this was that's going on, I suppose." "Hard to miss. I guess the government wants you to stop it." "Pretty much. Leo, if I could the country wouldn't be better off. Your kids would grow up in something that looks like China, only worse. What I need, is to contact the other side. The thing called the People's Liberation Army, or just PLA, as they're already calling it. I need to contact them, let them know they can deal with me. If they know the chairman of the joint chiefs wants to talk it can mean only one thing." "And you can't contact them?" "Not in my position. Even if I could find them. They're like ghosts. You can find someone high up in the organization, with your connections. There may even be some of your people involved. They'd much rather live in the old USA than a communist version of it." "Let me see what I can do," Leo said. "This a good number for you?" "Yes, it's secure, but I'll have to call you back. I'll be using a voice changer, so you won't recognize me. It will be a female voice. But it will be this number, do you have it?" "Hang on a sec.." A minute or so passed, then "OK, got it. I know this is serious, but give he forty-eight hours to be safe." "Got it. Thanks, Leo. Give my best to the kids and let's hope we can give them something to look forward to." Anthony put the phone away and looked at the screens. Smoke from the fires, the flashing lights of police and other emergency vehicles, incessantly talking heads in inset pictures and split screens. He hoped Leo would come through, but even if he did actually solving the problem was another matter. |
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Chapter 71 -- NCQTKXSEGX
"Our man is sprung," Donald said, "and he's headed our way." As usual the group was watching the news and monitoring the patriot channels on the internet. Two of the screens were showing the activity at the area where a large number of federal officers had been killed two days earlier by unknown persons who where presumed to be anti-government guerillas, as they were now beginning to be called. The emergency vehicles were gone, only some ordinary cars and vans parked along the road and inside the fenced enclosure, with people moving about unhurriedly. "Any ETA?" asked Jessica. They had been informed of the extraction of the only man captured in the Black Friday operation. The news coverage they were watching was the result of his work. Pretending to give in to his interrogators, he had given them an almost true description of an unused property in rural Iowa. They had checked it out and prepared to raid it. His escape from a prisoner transport had caused them to launch the raid early - not that it would have mattered. A large number of the attackers were killed. "He leaves Alxandria in a couple hours," Donald said. "It's a long flight, over a thousand miles, so there will be a stop. They'll land just long enough for him to board an aircraft that will meet them there, and then bring him here." "So we have another guest for a while," Jessica said. "Well, we've got plenty of room. Hopefully this doesn't last long enough for it to get crowded." The obligatory smiles at he joke didn't mask the seriousness of the situation. There was now literally a war, and their enemy had long ago demonstrated its ruthlessness, and it had only increased in intensity. It would not tolerate many more debacles like the one had just seen. "I would guess the countdown to martial law has begun," Donald said. "They're out of options, and even though it won't work it's the only thing they have. Word is a Secret Service advance team is at Carver's Point, as if they are about to relocate the president there. If they are, it may be to use it as a command post until this is over. It would make sense to get him out of DC, and of course the inner circle has to go with him." "Since they're in control," said Jessica, "they would have to have the whole crew there. What is it about Carver's Point? There seems to to be something..." "It's almost an island," said Donald. "A small peninsula with a bottleneck. If I didn't know better I'd think it was a trap. I wonder. Let's see what it looks like." Bringing up a map on one of the screens, he used a laser pointer to indicate the location the compound. "It's out here in where it widens again after you get through the narrow spot. It's easy to defend if you have possession of it." "Just a matter of who has possession," Carter said. "Right," said Donald. "They'll have the usual contingent of Secret Service, but they don't have whole force to call on if they need help. They're three thousand miles away from DC." "So," Jessica said, "if you managed to take it, you could hold it. At least, if you are in there with the president and most of his staff as hostages, I wonder what they would do. Obviously they'd build up a force outside to prevent escape, but how do they rescue the president?" "For a while they will try waiting it out," Donald replied. "Maybe start negotiations, maybe not. They probably have a plan. The question is, what good would it do to have him. If they were thinking clearly and and quickly enough, they could have the president declared disabled under the twenty-fifth amendment and let the vice president take over. Of course, that would be messy and take a while to sort out. It would probably depend on what is happening inside, how much information they have to work with. "You think an insider might be planning something?" Jessica asked. "It certainly isn't us," Donald said. "I can't imagine who else would be in a position to do it, except some insider plan. The only thing I can think of is the military - if they see how bad it can be if they follow the order to impose martial law. And the past couple of presidents have pretty well cleaned out the ranks of generals. It would have to be a desperate situation for them to rebel." "I'd say we're about there," Carter said. "If any of them are going to act, it has to be soon." Donald's phone rang and he looked down at it. Tapping the answer button he said "The pond has dried up". "The crow dies at dusk," the caller replied. Donald ended the call and put the phone. "Our guest is about to take off from Alexandria," he said. "It should be about two and a half hours until they switch planes. It's probably another two hours to here. I'm going to the office for an update. Here are the pass phrases for the next call." After Donald left they continued watching the news, while waiting for the next call. It appeared that the government had begun leaking hints, preparing the nation for the imposition of martial law. On each of the three major news channels the subject was discussed over the next several hours. "That must mean it's about to be made official," said Jessica. "I wonder if any of them have any idea of that they're going to do. What they're trying to accomplish is impossible. Even if they managed to hunt down and kill every one of us, and the other people who are now involved, the country would be a wreck." "I hope there is someone in there who understands that," Carter said. "And can persuade the others. They seem to be literally insane at times." "Probably some of them are," Jessica said. "And often people get into those positions, which is most of them, actually feel invulnerable. I wonder how some of them are feeling now, after Black Friday." "Their calling it that gives us a clue," Carter said. "But at this point it's probably too late for reality to intrude on their fantasy. With the exception of the military people, I don't see any of them coming to their senses." "And the military has been almost purged by now," Jessica said. "I guess we have to wait and see." The expected call came in, and Jessica and Carter set alarms on their phones to alert them before the arrival of their guest. It was becoming increasingly difficult to detect the new events in the news, as it had become an endless procession of disasters. The interiors of some of the large cities had become no-go zones, to the extent that no news was getting out, and conditions inside were unknown. Many police and other emergency personnel had not only quit their jobs but left the area. There were reports of flight from both the affluent suburbs and the wealthy districts. "When the rich people flee," said Carter, "and there's no police protection, the looting will spread to those areas." "Probably," said Jessica. "Well, a lot of them, probably most, put the leaders they have in charge. They made their bed, as my grandmother used to say." When the alarms went off the four of them drove over to the airfield. They were about a half hour ahead of the ETA, and sat looking out across the autumn plain, saying little. In a while they saw the lights of the small aircraft approaching. Minutes later the Piper Saratoga rolled to a stop on the runway opposite their parking area. Carter got out to assist Tommy and James with helping the passenger exit with and make his way to their vehicle. Clear of the aircraft they waved to the pilot, who released the brakes and taxied down to the end of the runway to turn for the takeoff roll. As the aircraft passed them, already clear of the runway, Jessica turned the Trailblazer to head back to the house, Tommy and James followed. Introductions made, they drove to the old mobile home where Carter had spent his first few weeks. "This is where you'll be staying for a while," Jessica told him "until we get something else arranged. Tomorrow we'll get you set up with a new wardrobe and some other things you'll need. It's close to time for dinner - have you eaten lately?" "Just before we took off from Alexandria," Scott replied. "I'll be all right for a while." "OK, then. Let's get you over to headquarters, as we call it. I'm not sure what the plans are, but you'll probably be here for a while." Donald arrived soon after they returned, and they set about preparing dinner. Afterwards Carter drove Scott back to his place. "You're safe here," he told him. "No one ever comes around here but us. If someone should knock on the door, don't answer. And if they don't go away, use this. He opened cheap flip phone and pressed a button. "Call any of those numbers and you'll get one of us. We're not far away. But you'll be all right." "Thanks," Scott said. "You don't know how glad I am to be out of there." "You might be surprised," Carter said. "I'll tell you why later. Good night." |
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Chapter 72 -- IZDMNUQANRMTJ
Mark Anthony attached a small black box to the phone, pressed a couple of buttons, and dialed Leo's number. "Mark, how are you?" Leo said. "Depends on what you have for me," Anthony replied. "How's the voice?" "I'd say it's working. I could've used something like this, back in the day. All right, here we go. Call this number and say 'Blue Whale'. That's supposed to get you connected." "Thanks, Leo. If this works out, you'll have not only saved the future of your kids but many others." "Maybe it will atone for at least some of my sins," Leo said. "Vada con Dio, Mark." He told Margaret he would be unavailable for an hour and went out to his car. On the beltway he found a place to stop. Parking in a remote of the parking lot of a hotel he made the call. When the call was answered he spoke the words Blue Whale. He had switched to a male voice, but distinctly different from his own. "How may I help you?" asked the voice. "Leo told me to call you," he replied. "Leo said you may be in a position to solve a serious problem," the voice said. "By the way, call me Ishmael. For the time being. What position are you in?" "Chairman of the joint chiefs," Anthony replied. So much for hiding his identity. But it was too late for that. If the call was intercepted and decrypted, so be it. "I have complete authority," Ishmael said, "to commit the PLA, as I understand we are being called now, to any arrangement you propose. That is, where a truce is concerned. Is that why you're calling?" "Not exactly," Anthony replied. "This call is completely unauthorized. I believe there is no possibility of the government agreeing to negotiate with you. For that to happen, some people may have to be eliminated. I am prepared to arrange that." "What do you propose?" "Your best chance, I believe, is to secure the persons of the president and his inner circle. As you must know, he is merely the mouthpiece for the people who actually run the government." "We presume as much," Ishmael said. "Do you know how that can be managed?" "Quite possibly," Anthony said. "Are you familiar with the president's personal property at Carver's point?" "We are." "In a few days the president and his people will be there. Everyone needed to make decisions and have them carried out. I will be there. If you can cut off the area where the compound is located and neutralize the Secret Service, I will handle the inside details. They will do whatever I tell them - not a one of them has any idea how to get out of this." "What is your plan?" Ishmael asked. "Once you have the place secure, with your men in control of the compound, I will have a company of army troops seal off the area. By the time we arrive, the announcement that martial law is in effect - whatever that means - so the move will seem logical. I have the army under control sufficiently. Can you do your part?" "We've studied the presidential security extensively over the years," Ishmael said. "We are confident we can handle this scenario. We can put over a hundred men, with the capability of Navy Seals and then some, in there by sea. Once we are in control with access by sea, we can bring in more before the Coast Guard can get there." "Good. Here's how we plan to play it once we're in control. There won't be any rescue attempts as long as negotiations are going on. I'm going to attempt to persuade the president to be reasonable. If I have to knock off one or two of his inner circle to convince him, I will do it. Once they realize they won't leave there alive unless they play ball, I'll be able to play him, and them. Once he's committed himself with a public speech and set in motion certain things, he won't be able to retreat." "I believe I see what you're planning," Ishmael said. "I'll begin making preparations. We'll be prepared by the time you get there, whenever that is." "It looks like two or three days. Probably the next time you hear from me will be after we arrive." "That should be satisfactory." Anthony powered off the the phone and replaced it in his briefcase. He was exempt` from most routine scrutiny by security operations, but if the call was intercepted and decoded, it would be a simple matter to find the phone, and him. He called General Talley. "Jim," he said when Talley answered, "if you get a request for a brigade or so of men to secure Carver's Point, how quickly could you manage it?" Talley didn't ask why. He knew what Carver's Point was - it was often in the news as the president spent a considerable amount of time there. "In two days we can have it locked down with resources from Camp Holland," he said. "That sounds good. We won't be there for a couple of days yet. Stay close." "Will do." He looked at the television screens. Each one showed news of the growing chaos. One screen showed a map of the country with incidents marked with symbols of fires and explosions. There were a lot of them. The phone rang. "Mark, Dean. We have a meeting in a half hour. Strategy room." "Got it," Anthony said. "I'm on my way." It was the entire group, the president included. He was usually not there. "We'll be making the move to Carver's Point tomorrow," Jordan said when he entered. "I'm sure it will be leaked before we can get started, but that's all right. Once we are there the president will announce the imposition of martial law. Carver's point will become the seat of government until the crisis has abated. "Most of us will be travelling with the President. Harry, you and Bob," he nodded at Barwick, "will be going with the vice president to an undisclosed location and joining us later. "The Secret Service is preparing now, and barring any unforeseen problems we will leave tomorrow around ten. Any questions?" "We don't know how the public will react," said Anthony. "When they suddenly and unexpectedly learn that the president has gone, we don't know what may happen. Are you confident of the security arrangements?" "What do you think of the situation?" Jordan asked. "I'm thinking we can't be too careful," Anthony replied. "Everything that has happened has been unexpected and uncontrollable. If martial law is in effect, having an army brigade or two to secure the place might be prudent." "Harry, can you see to that?" Jordan asked the Secretary of Defense. "I'll see to it," Springfield said. Springfield would tell General Talley what to do, and Talley would see to it that a trustworthy commander was chosen to do the job. Once the secret service was neutralized and the compound under control, the army would have no need to know that its commander-in-chief was a prisoner. If he did his job, he would be free. And alive, which was better than some of his inner circle would be. |
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Chapter 73 -- FTRKKKDCQCMQQYQMM
Scott was in the command post with Tommy and James, watching the news and monitoring the talk on the internet channels. Jessica had gone into town to purchase supplies for Scott and Carter had gone with her, while Donald had gone to the office and would probably be gone for several hours. The escalation of sabotage against the infrastructure continued, to the point that resources to respond to them were nearly exhausted, and attempts at repairing the damage had largely been abandoned. "What are you guys seeing in the chatter?" Carter asked. "Congestion," Tommy replied. "The system is overloaded, even watching it is total confusion. Outside the reports of new incidents, the only common thread, starting late yesterday, is a lot of activity around Carver's Point, the Western White House, as they call it. Some are thinking the president is going there, and it may become his base as they try to deal with the crisis." "I wonder when it will hit the news," Carter said. "Probably not until it's official. Or maybe not at all." "It'll be hard to hide it," said Tommy. "But if they're moving they must be seriously worried." "They should be," Carter said. "Donald said the League activities are nowhere near up to what we expected to have to do - the independents have been doing so much of the damage. We're just taking up the slack now, keeping the pressure on." He watched as another screen proclaimed 'breaking news'. A scene of collapsed highway overpass somewhere, with long lines of traffic, then going to an overhead shot showing the miles of vehicles. The subtitle appeared, apparently I-65 was affected. I-70 had been hit between St. Louis and Louisville a few days ago. On one of the monitors he saw Donald's car arriving. Minutes later he entered, carrying his briefcase. He sat down and looked up at the screens. "Another overpass," he said. "I-70, that was us. Last night some warning charges were set off to get them to shut it down, and as soon as the traffic was stopped the main charges went off, collapsed a section close to a quarter mile long." "At this rate the country is going to be shut down worse than the virus hoax back in '20," Carter said. "If it isn't already," said Donald. "As soon as Jessica gets back I've got some interesting information. It came in while I was at the office, just as I was about to leave." "Looks like she's here," Carter said, as the monitor showed her car entering the drive. A few minutes later she entered. "Done shopping for fugitives?" Carter asked. Jessica smiled. "I'm getting pretty good at it. I left some things for you out in the den, Scott." "We got James out of town in time to keep him out of prison," Carter said. "I wasn't so lucky - I had to do the while seven years." "I remember now," Scott said. "For some reason I thought you were familiar. You were all over television. That was a bad deal." "Yeah, it was. Not as bad as some, there were some guys that are still in prison. It seems cops finally got smart and stopped taking chances. And now there's no law in those places." "So where do we stand?" Jessica asked. "As of a couple of hours ago," Donald replied, "the League was contacted by an insider on the presidential staff. The chairman of the joint chiefs, to be exact. It was unofficial, in fact it seems there may be a coup in the making. Apparently he, at least, recognizes the danger of not having a quick resolution. Our people believe he may be planning something. "And it seems they're about to move the president and staff out to his place on the west coast, Carver's Point. That could indicate they're preparing to impose martial law, whatever they think that means. The army, even with the national guard, can't control every square mile of the country. Which is what they would have to do. But of course they don't know that, and trying will only drive it deeper into chaos, paralyzing the country. "But they wouldn't change even if they knew it. Apparently the one man who does is willing to do something. We hope." "That's a pretty gutsy move," Carter said. "If he's alone in there, surrounded by Secret Service - I wonder if he has something up his sleeve." "Perhaps. We're preparing to land a force there to seize the compound and whomever is inside. It may be the general has resources inside the army. I know it's been mostly purged of those who won't be willing minions of the administration, but there may still be a few old school leaders, or perhaps just some who have the sense to see where this is going. We'll have wait and see." "That could mean the end, whatever it may be, is near," Jessica said. "Yes," said Donald "it might. Now we wait. And follow the events as they unfold. The League will keep the pressure on - we don't want them to have any signs of it easing, until they capitulate." "Since we're all back," Jessica said, "and it's about time for lunch. Anyone?" Most of them went into the dining room, taking turns helping Carter and Jessica, who had become the de facto cooks. There was little conversation over the meal, as they were focused on events and there was little motivation for talking or even thinking about anything else. Carter thought of the nearby town of Chillicothe, nine thousand of so people living their small-town lives, working in the stores and restaurants, with their world being shaken in ways most probably wouldn't understand. Which was the root of the problem. Probably ninety percent of the population had little understanding of the people who controlled their lives, and as long as the conditions were not unbearable they endured, perhaps complaining but never taking action, until it was too late. And those who sought to control everything were impossible to understand, he thought, not without being mad himself. What could possibly go on in their minds, to have the obsessive urge to control the world, when they could comfortably live whatever life they pleased, buy whatever they wanted, but still must take what they did not already have. Madness, indeed. He felt Jessica's hand on his knee, looked over at her. "You all right?" she asked. "Yeah, went off thinking and got lost." They went back to the command post and continued monitoring the news. Late in the day the news broke. The coverage of Marine One landing on the peninsula, obscured by the compound in the foreground once it had landed, confirmed it. "Seems our sources are right so far," Donald said. "If they continue to be, we may see some action in the next day or two. Who knows, the military might come through and take the problem off our hands." "Can we trust them, if they succeed, to put back the constitutional government? Jessica asked. "Good question. I would like to think they would. If they've seen the future with the current regime, and where we've been going for forty or fifty years, maybe they would want go roll it back. What we have working in our favor is that we'll be involved. We'll have control of the compound and all in it, including the general. "He probably hasn't thought much beyond stopping it, it caught him off guard. We've been planning for years. At whatever point the negotiations begin, we can pressure him to take the right path. And while the inner circle might prefer anything to giving in, if they know that they won't walk out of there alive otherwise, it will probably change their minds." "I hope you're right," said Jessica. "As if I need to say it. We're at that point now, where we can't go back." "We've burned the bridge," Carter said. "There's only one way home." |
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Chapter 74 -- RVEIEFTOJTFGZAAU
General Anthony looked out the window at the Pacific shore a quarter of a mile away. From his room on the third floor he could see a large section of the curved end of the peninsula, as he watched one of the Secret Service boats passed by. He was surprised there were only two boats, considering the circumstances. He wondered if security level would be escalated in the absence of an imminent threat. He hoped not, partly because he was counting on the PLA force to easily overcome the security, and because he was certain there would be casualties. The Secret Service might not be guiltless if they chose to continue their employment under a aspiring dictator, but nevertheless he hoped for minimal casualties. His phone rang. It was Dean Jordan. "Anthony." "Mark, the president has arrived. We'll be meeting in a hour. Everyone else is here and we're in the main dining room." "I'll be down shortly." The plan seemed to be for the president to address the nation at seven P.M. Central. Prime time television. All the major news channels were preempting some or most of their regular entertainment for coverage of the crisis, so most of the television-viewing population would see it. It was already decided to announce that martial law was in effect, and beyond that there seemed to be no plans. What were they going to do, he wondered. They were no better off than before, still chasing ghosts and falling further behind. He didn't know when the strike would come, but he suspected it would be soon. Perhaps once the president had arrived, since they wanted to be in control before security could be reinforced. The presence of an army brigade covering the approach to the area would lull them. He hoped so. He saw the presidential helicopter pass over, headed back to Miramar. It wouldn't be allowed to land once the PLA had taken over, so there was no way out for the president. He felt remarkably calm now, even though the battle was technically not underway, the point of no return had been passed. There would be no retreat. He picked up his briefcase and went downstairs. The president was the only one not present in the dining room. Remote broadcast equipment had been set up, several technicians were making the final adjustments. Anthony wondered if they would be leaving after the speech - he preferred to have as few people as possible trapped here. "The president will be with us shortly," Whittaker said. "We'll go over the speech then, and do a few test runs." Kelly was probably as good at reading a speech from a teleprompter as anyone, certainly better than the previous occupant of his position, but they could not help being nervous. He suspected that they were lost and stalling for time. When the president came in they began rehearsing the speech, and with a couple of hours until seven they were satisfied. Whittaker called for an hour break, giving Anthony an opportunity to go up to his room and check his dark phone. There was a message from Ishmael. One word. Ready Probably they would strike after the speech had been broadcast. Harry Morant sat in a deck chair on the Tormance, watching the activity around Carver's Point. The eighty foot motor yacht lay a half mile off the point, two smaller craft trailing it. Beside him Peter Handcock, also observing. The sky was beginning to darken. Earlier they had seen the large helicopter lift off from the point, indicating that the president was on the ground. They got up and went into the small aft cabin. A couple of large television screens displayed two of the major news channels, one showing one of the common scenes of destruction now being shown around the clock, the other showed the outside of the presidential residence on Carver's Point. Not much of it was visible - already military vehicles had largely blocked the ground-level view, the wall and the large mansion behind it were some distance from the cameras. Morant and Handcock sat at a table with two smaller screens, each showing only ocean. That was the view of the cameras on the two unmanned craft following the Tormance. Below each screen were controls for steering one of the unmanned boats. As the time approached 1900 the other television screen also changed to a view of the presidential residence at Carver's Point, and the announcers came on the call the action. At a few minutes after the hour the president emerged and began his speech. They didn't bother listening. They knew what was happening and were only interested in when it ended. Their attention was on the operation at hand. The speech was brief and the scene shifted to the usual split screen with a news person and a guest. It was time. They began steering the vessels behind the Tormance toward the shore, heading for points on either side of the point. When the Secret Service boats intercepted them they would be close to a quarter of a mile apart. Behind the Tormance a small fleet of inflatable boats had moved into position. The two small boats had reached the security perimeter and stopped. As the Secret Service boats moved to intercept them the inflatable boats accelerated through the gap towards the beach. It took the Secret Service boats a while to turn their attention to the rafts, and then it was too late. Pursuing them they arrived as the rafts were beaching and men leaped out to meet them with a withering fire. There were only two men on each boat and they went down immediately, and most of the invading force moved on toward the mansion, only two remaining to check on their fallen foes. In the dying daylight a brief battle ended with the defenders down and the attackers entering the house. They systematically cleared the place, rounding up extraneous staff and securing them with disposable nylon handcuffs, leaving them where they found them for the time being. In the dining room they found their quarry in its entirety. They had barely had time to react to the sound of gunfire outside the room before the doors were kicked open by men dressed completely in black, their bulk suggesting they were wearing body armor. The visors on the helmets remained closed as they stood with submachine guns leveled. No one moved or spoke, terror evident on every face. All but one. General Mark Anthony stood calmly looking at the men pointing guns at him from a few feet away, but he did not look at the others in the room. He waited with the others. Through the open doors three more men walked in. All were dressed in black and wore sunglasses. Unlike the others they appeared to be unarmed, and did not appear to be wearing body armor. Two of them remained slightly behind and to either side of the one who appeared to be the leader. The tableau remained frozen for several minutes. Finally the leader spoke. "You may call me Ishmael, if you address me at all. For the moment, however, I will be the only one speaking. Is that understood?" He looked around the table. "Silence give consent, as they say," he said. "First, all of you sit down. I represent the People's Liberation Army, and I am here to accept your agreement to negoaiate a peace treaty. The terms are predeermined, your only option are acceptance or the consequences of failing to do so. When you agree to them and offer surety for their execution, we will cease hostilities. Who speaks for you? The president? Finally President Kelly spoke. "Yes. I am John Kelly, President of the United States." "Very well, then. Let us begin." |
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Chapter 75 -- VNGVNNCYPVRAZGZBKEVX
"Mr. President," Ishmael said, "Let me describe the situation in which you now find yourself. Discard any illusions you may have about ending this in a manner favorable to yourselves. Even it that should eventually happen, none you you, not a one of you, will leave this room alive. Take a few moments to consider that." The group sat silently, Anthony watching them carefully. Once or twice it seemed that one or another was about to speak, but nothing was said. Ishmael then continued. "First, their is your personal situation. This area is occupied by our forces. The members of your security force that survived the assault are in our custody and will remain there until their disposition is convenient. How soon that happens depends on you. As I said, you will not leave here until a resolution is accomplished, and if that cannot be done, you will not leave here at all. "Now, the situation outside. As we speak, your already hopeless situation continues to worsen. We have temporarily curtailed, but not ceased, our attacks. They will continue until we have an agreement. Further, our operations account for less than half of the attacks that have occurred. The majority are being carried out by other organizations. Deliberately encouraged by us to be sure, in many cases, but not under our control. "The destruction in the metropolitan areas continues. The damage to transportation, communications, and energy distribution infrastructure will take months, perhaps years, to repair even if there is no further damage. And believe me, as if your lives depend on it - and they do - it will continue. "In fact, it is possible that what we have started can not be stopped. That is a possibility we are prepared for. If you act now, however, the situation may be salvageable. Now, Mr. President, what do you have to say?." Anthony, in a position to watch the president without having to move his head, watched him. The others were less subtle, turning to him, almost as if in supplication. They who had hours earlier been telling him what to say and how to say it. For a few moments it seemed as if he would not, or could not speak. Finally he did. "You cannot succeed with this insane scheme," he said at last. "You cannot overcome the entire armed forces. You cannot hide, once we are able to hunt you down and bring you to justice. You should use this opportunity to end this without adding to your crimes. Possibly some measure of leniency might be extended to those who surrender now. If not, you can expect no mercy when you are brought to account." Ishmael laughed. It was a genuine laugh, not for effect but as if at an amusing joke. Anthony thought it was not a pleasant sound, almost if Ishmael wished his offer would be refused. He wondered what the capabilities of the PLA were - if Ishmael's assertion that they had not yet exerted themselves was true they might could be considerable. Not that they had tanks and aircraft, or even divisions of troops. But they didn't need them. Guerilla warfare, against an enemy constantly replenished with supplies and new troops, was not winnable. He had spent time in Afghanistan, and studied the lessons of Vietnam. "Mr. President," Ishmael said, "and believe me I use your title only for convenience, as my contempt for you and the people at this table is boundless, with the possible exception of the general here. Do any of your people have any military experience?" They looked around at each other. "I do," Jordan said. "Only one." Ishmael said. "Not a career man, I suppose." "No," Jordan replied. "An ancient historian, who knew a thing or two about war," Ishmael said, "said that a nation that makes a great distinction between its scholars and its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools. Do you know who that was?" "No". "I suspect the general knows," Ishmael said. "Thucydides", said Anthony. "A Greek historian, about two thousand years ago." "And as true today as it was then," Ishmael said. "At least the military men are still properly educated. Or were until recent years. Mr. President, your fighting is being done by fools now, and cowards. Not that it matters. As I said, your situation is hopeless. If you don't believe me, ask the one man here who knows. Give him leave to tell you the unvarnished truth." The president looked helplessly at Anthony. "Go ahead," he said. "Mr. President," Anthony began, stopped. Would anything he said make an impression on these people? Would he have to play the card he hoped could remain hidden. The fact that Ishmael hadn't mentioned it indicated he was willing to leave it unseen if possible. "Mr. President, I believe that what Mr.... Ishmael, has told us is true. At the very least his people are prepared to eliminate us, leaving the country in a crisis of unimaginable proportions, in addition the the condition it is already in. We are already seeing as yet uncounted deaths in the cities, where violence, starvation, and by now probably disease will make them uninhabitable. At that point we face the prospect of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people leaving those areas into the surrounding suburbs and rural areas. "And that situation cannot be remedied, we can not even begin to do so, without a halt to hostilities. And Mr. Ishmael tells us he can not guarantee being able to bring them to a complete halt. If they are escalated, I don't know. Quite frankly sir, I do not wish to contemplate it." The room was silent. Ishmael leaned back, inscrutable, the dark glasses hiding any indications of his emotions. His eyes could be closed for all they knew. Obviously the others were waiting for the president, who seemed for the first time to appreciate his situation. He at least had the good sense not to look around at his advisers. They had gotten him into this situation and they would be unable to offer a way out. He knew he had to say something, but what. He believed Ishmael's words. At last Ishmael spoke, giving him at least a temporary reprieve. "Mr. President," he said, "you and your associates find yourselves now, at the end of generations of calculated destruction of the great republic that was founded over two hundred and forty years ago. Founded by men of such intellect and character as you and your generation can not even comprehend, much less aspire to. You are the last pitiful remnants of a once great people who squandered their heritage, generation after generation, never believing it could fail. "Now here you are, with little left to salvage. And even if you could comprehend what you have done, it matters not to you. With your delusions of grandeur and omnipotence you have destroyed almost all that is good in what the founders and generations of our ancestors left for us. "And until now, none of this mattered, even if you understood it. You are such people of whom it has been said that will burn their own nation to the ground if only they can rule the ashes. We will leave you with ashes, if that is what you truly wish. But you will not be here to see it." Ishmael paused, sitting as still as before, not as if waiting for a reply but as if looking at some distasteful object and considering how to dispose of it with the least inconvenience to himself. Anthony, in a position to easily see the faces of most of the group, found himself regarding them with even more contempt than he ever had before. Defeated, even if they did not know it yet, they could as well have been any group of people in a bus station or a grocery store - there was nothing remotely distinctive about them. He realized that that was indeed what they were, ordinary people who, mostly through chicanery and occasional luck, had climbed to positions of power they could never have achieved through honest industry. He remembered something he had read, he couldn't remember where, about someone who had attended the Nuremberg trials. Asked what she thought of the defendants, she described them as 'just some old men whose clothes didn't fit'. He had the feeling he was seeing something like that now. He had that feeling now. Finally Ishmael spoke again. "Mr. President, you and I will now confer privately." He turned to the two men who had accompanied him. "Call in a guard to watch these," he said. One of them stepped outside and a few minutes later came back inside with a small squad, nine more men. Also black-clad, they also wore sidearms - a large pistol on in a belt holster on each side. They took up positions between the door and the other occupants. "See that they are secure and comfortable," Ishmael said. "If they need to use the various facilities, follow the usual procedures." "Mr. President," he said, "my personnel have the situation under control here, those wounded have been removed and turned over to the army unit guarding this place. The others are securely confined to await their eventual release. How eventual that is depends largely on you." He turned to the two men who had accompanied him. "Bring the president and come with me." |
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Chapter 76 -- BIGGFOFQQBOUHKMXAPYER
In a suite on the second floor Ishmael's two assistants ushered the President into a large suite. In the living area a large cocktail table was surrounded by four large armchairs with tufted upholstery. They pulled two of the chairs back and motioned for the president to sit in one of them. After he complied, Ishmael seated himself in the one across from him and sat down. The president sat docilely and waited for him to speak. Ishmael sat silently, regarding the man before him impersonally, leaning back and steepling his fingers, any clue to his state of mind hidden behind the dark glasses. Eventually he spoke. "Mr. President," he said, "I have explained your situation to you. As your general indicated, it grows worse by the hour. Should you fail to resolve it quickly, even I cannot guarantee the survival of this nation. I am not exaggerating. At all. What do you intend to do?" "What do you want from me?" Kelly asked. "As I told you, we want the restoration of constitutional rule, as originally created by the founders. Nothing less. And we will then want certain safeguards enacted, to prevent the situation from recurring." "I cannot do that," Kelly said. "Congress makes laws. The executive branch is responsible for enforcing the law. You must know that." "Of course I know it," Ishmael replied. "And one way or another, Congress will repeal the offending laws. And you will sign them and enforce them. You conveniently neglected to mention the Supreme court, which is just well, since your regime has rendered the court irrelevant. But perhaps that measure of balance can in time be restored." "How do you propose to get Congress to repeal the laws?" Kelly asked. "As of today," Ishmael said, "there forty-eight fewer members of Congress than there were a few weeks ago. Almost ten percent. In one day. And it appears that the replacements have not yet been seated, not that it matters. Do you seriously believe that we will not hesitate to kill another fifty or so, if it takes that to get their attention? "And until there is a resolution here, beginning with you, a cessation of the destruction occurring out there will not happen. The damage will continue to accumulate. As I said, if you are content with ashes, ashes is what you will have." "I still don't see what you want from me," Kelly said. "Or what I can do. You just told me what you want, and I cannot give it to you by myself." The man was helpless and terrified now, pleading for even the smallest straw to grasp. 'Now is the time,' Ishmael thought, 'to see if I can do anything with this man. If I can't, it may be ashes anyway.' "Mr. President," he said, "you've been nothing but an actor your entire career. Like the one before, only your brain hasn't rotted yet. You've spent close to fifty years doing what other people told you to do, speaking the words they gave you. A puppet. Now you have a choice. You don't deserve it, but it's a chance to not only survive but possibly have a legacy any president would be proud of. Or you can die, perhaps here and now, and be forgotten. "All the power is ours. You are powerless before even the PLA, and besides that you have a spontaneous, unorganized rebellion to deal with. Do you know how many men we lost on Black Friday?" "No." "One. One of our operatives was captured. And do you know what happened after that? We left him in your custody long enough for him to plant a red herring, to lead you to what you thought was one of our bases. It was a trap, and we killed a few dozen of your people, while losing none of our own. We are so far ahead of you that you will never be able to make any progress against us. You no longer have any control over the future of the country. If the situation is not resolved, and soon, it is likely to break up. That will be the end. "You heard what the general said about the cities, and it's getting worse as we speak. The same goes for the transportation, communications, electricity and water. Those will continue to be destroyed faster than you can repair them. And we haven't even started to play rough yet. You cannot guard every bridge and transmission tower, you cannot provide security for every member of Congress and your administration, every judge, mayor, governor. You're already spread so thin you can't stand even a little more. And as I said, we have more surprises if you're interested." "You mentioned a solution," Kelly said. "What is it?" "It is as I said. You die, alone, terrified, and ashamed. And the country dies. Or you can meet the challenge, for once in your life put something ahead of your own self. In the end your life may be worth something after all. Will you do it?" It didn't take him long. Whether it was merely the fear of imminent death, or the hope of delaying long enough to find a way out, he surrendered. "What do I have to do?" "You will begin by taking charge. You will tell you staff that your orders are to be obeyed without question. They're probably sufficiently frightened that they won't question you. Even when you begin the process of dismantling what they've spent their lives creating. If they do, fire them. "You'll have guidance from us. As part of your plan to end the crisis, you will form a committee, which will make recommendations, which you will follow. The Congress will ace responsibly, I can guarantee it. Those who don't will not be there long. I can guarantee that as well. Never forget, we can resume operations with no delay, if necessary. "But you have the advantage. The people are tired, they are afraid. They will accept whatever they believe will end it. And one more thing - your advisers are worthless, and their only possible virtue is the cowardice that will cause them to comply. If they do not, get rid of them. You'll be better off with new ones we can recommend. "With one exception. General Anthony is a good man, one of the few good generals left. So is General Talley, the army chief of staff. He is in control of the army, and he is in the same camp as General Anthony. The country is technically under martial law, so you have considerably more freedom of movement than you otherwise would. Need I explain further?" "No," Kelly said. "I have the picture. You have already been in communication with them." "It is better that I do not answer that question," Ishmael said. "When this is over, there will be blanket pardons for various groups of people, no matter which side they were on, as well as for certain individuals. We are not vindictive, though we have often been angry enough to want revenge. What we want is peace and freedom. You are in control, and you have the advantage of knowing that we are on your side - as long as you do what is right. If you don't..." He did not need to finish. Kelly knew any other action would doom him and the country. And if he accepted the offer, and it worked out, he would have a legacy to be envied. He was only sixty-four, he could end his presidency as one of the most respected presidents in history. He was afraid, even now, but not of dying as he had been before. He was afraid of the uncertainties, of his ability to carry out the task he had been given. "It doesn't matter," Ishmael said, and for a moment he thought he had been thinking aloud. "You've been a puppet all your life, in return for the benefits of being one of the wealthy and powerful. Now you'll be a puppet for the right side, and who knows, in time you might claim some measure of honor." "I will do it," Kelly said. "What now?" "You have us at your back," Ishmael said. "What we would do to you, if you had continued to oppose us, we will now do to those who attempt to thwart you. In a more subtle manner, to be sure, but we will see to it that they fail. But most of it is up to you. As I said, we will provide the blueprint. You do the building. Most importantly, do not hesitate to use whatever force you need, but only as much as necessary, against those who oppose you. The law enforcement and intelligence services are infested with enemies, especially in the upper ranks. Most will accept the new order to save their careers, and even find ways to prosper. The few that will not, can be dealt with. As ruthlessly as you dealt with dissenters before, do so now. "Now for the hard part. You will go back to your people and tell them what will happen. The first step is appointing the committee. When that is done, meetings with our representatives will begin in Reykjavík, Iceland. You will ask the government of Iceland to host the meetings - there is no reason to believe they will refuse. If they do, we will make other arrangements. Our representatives are already out of the country, so if you should renege you will not be able to find them, any more than you can find us now. "Is there anything else you need to know, before I go?" "You're leaving now?" Kelly asked. "Certainly. Two vessels are lying offshore as we speak. As we depart, the army will continue to keep this area secure until we are well away. And there will be no pursuit or attempts to find where those vessels are headed, not that it would do any good. As I said, if you do not deliver, all of this will begin again. As it is, once the cease-fire is announced, we will stand down and ask the other participants to join us. I cannot guarantee that all of them will, but you should be able do mount a successful defense against those who don't. "I suggest you deliver the message announcing the cease-fire from here, and return to the capitol once the majority of activity has ceased. Ours will cease at once, so whatever remains is not ours. A message will be delivered to the White House after you have returned, it will have a code book with instructions for its use. In the initial stages of the negotiations, we may have to deliver some messages to you in this manner." Ishmael rose and Kelly did the same. "I want you to remain here in this room for twenty minutes after I leave," he said. "It will give you some time to compose your thoughts before you return to your advisers. I and my men will be joining the others on the beach. At the end of that time we will be boarding you vessel. "And now, Mr. President, au revoir." Ishmael turned and left the room, followed by his men. Kelly waited as instructed, and in fact waited a full half hour. By the time he returned to the dining room the men there had vanished as well. Telling the others to wait, he went up to a third floor room that overlooked the ocean. The night was clear, and off the beach he could see the lights of ships. It was hard to be sure in the darkness, but as he watched they seemed to be moving. He watched as they became smaller, becoming almost invisible. General Anthony was the one asset he had at hand, he thought as he approached the dining room again. Obviously he was involved but he might also be the best counsel available. He could see it now, the others, even if they accepted the necessity and went along, always looking for a way to undermine him if that seemed possible. They would have to have a private talk very soon. But for now, he had to stop the war. He paused briefly before opening the door again, then went in. "All right," he said. "My orders are to be carried out as I issue them, promptly and exactly. Anyone here not prepared to do so may offer your resignation now. I'm sure we can get it written up. Anyone?" He looked around the table. There was no response. "All right then," he said. "I'm warning you all now, there will be no deviation from my orders. You know the state this country is in, and I will not risk a return to what we have gone through. It will take long enough to rebuild as it is, and I will not tolerate any failure, sabotage, or even incompetence." "With that out of the way," he said, "we have a war to stop and a country to rebuild. Jane, I believe the guys who prepared the last speech are here somewhere, assuming they haven't been released and fled. Get them up here, and I'll tell them what to write. While we're doing that, Robert" he looked at Boling "if you and Dean can take a few minutes to locate the prisoners, release them, get the Secret Service guys back on the job. Get someone to start getting everyone released and check their condition. Harry, have the army get in here and get things cleaned up, take care of the medical and other needs. See that the Secret Service is back in control here. |
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Chapter 77 -- EWYBDETMVKZMUXTKAZ
Carter opened his eyes in a still dark room, lying quietly, all his senses on alert. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw Jessica sitting on the edge of the bed. That was what had awakened him - she rarely if ever awoke before he did. "Everything all right?" he asked. She turned, lay back down beside him, her head against his shoulder and a hand on his chest. After a while she spoke. "I guess it is. Isn't it?" she said. "My head tells me so, everything says yes, it's over now. You can rest for a while. But is it, really?" "It's never really over," he said. "I hope it goes the way it seems to be, and continues until we're where the Council will be satisfied. If it does, then I'd say things are pretty good. And at this point, unless I'm missing something big. I believe it will. "But as for being over - that will never happen. All we can do is roll it back as far as we can and try to keep it there for a while. Eternal vigilance, as they say, is the price of liberty." "You think it will go back to the way it was, where the government is concerned, two hundred, even a hundred years ago?" Jessica asked. "To think we can go back to the beginning, I think, would be unrealistic," he said. "But a hundred years - that would take us back to the 1920s, 1930s. That wasn't such a bad time, compared to now. We were seeing the beginnings of problems - income tax, the Federal Reserve, powerful labor unions existed but the full effect of them was not yet felt. If we could go back that far and apply what we've learned, that would would be good." "I wonder if we can even do that," Jessica said. "We're counting on the most corrupt and inept people to do what is right, even when shown how." "Yeah, the only reason they'll do it is because there's a gun to their collective head. So they'll do what they have to do to survive for the moment." "While counting on being able to start reversing the reforms at the earliest opportunity. I wonder how we prevent that, or if we can." "Well, one of the key elements is election reform. The reason everything went south so fast was that they had complete control of system. Every election of any consequence was decided in advance. I believe if elections are made honest again, they may never win another presidential election. Or not for a long time. Which is what they had in mind for their opposition." "That does give me some hope," she said. "I guess for some reason I'm more worried now than before, when I should be optimistic. Maybe it's the enormity of the whole thing. It's hard to wrap my head around it." "Well, it is the biggest thing since the founding," he said. "Literally. We were threatened in maybe one war, in reality. And then the cold war could have gone badly, but it didn't because we weren't this far gone yet. We are, almost, starting over." "You don't think there's a chance it can be reversed, by force, now?" "I believe that is pretty much as improbable as anyone can envision. The result would be a resumption of hostilities, and a few cycles of that would leave the country in ruins. Balkanized, central government irrelevant or non- existent. I expect they'll play along, planning to regroup and restart the campaign when the time is right." "That won't be in our lifetime," she said. "Will it?" "I doubt it. They'll be wrangling over this for some time, years probably. As long as we're making progress they can't start to reverse it." "It'll be left for our children to deal with," Jessica said. She sat up, slipped off the bed and stood up and turned to look at him. "Our children? Is there something I should know?" Jessica smiled. "Just thinking about future plans. Neither of us is getting any younger. When things begin to settle somewhat, we need to talk." "I'd like that." "We should get over to Dad's house," she said. "Even now, especially now with some of the pressure off. I'd still like to stay on top of things." The rest of the group was already there, but the atmosphere was much more relaxed than in the past. It was already after nine, and the others had already finished breakfast. Carter and Jessica had a couple of breakfast pastries and took their coffee into the command post. The television scenes were back to the ubiquitous anchors, reporters, analysts and other denizens of the media world, with as little useful information as ever. That left time for casual discussions. Donald had been at the office in town and had the latest League news. "At this point things are remarkably calm," he said. "Particularly for the freeholds. We're all in a mode of relaxed vigilance, which is to say we've shot the tiger and he's down but we're remaining alert for any twitches." "What's the prognosis," asked Jessica, "in terms of this being a smooth transition? That is, getting enough of what we want without resuming hostilities?" "The consensus is that a resumption is extremely unlikely," Donald said, "to the point of near negligibility. What they witnessed over the past weeks was frightening, and they know we can do worse. I believe they'll do anything to avoid that. "Our immediate assessment is that they'll begin compliance, with that threat hanging over them. They'll do their best to put in whatever tricks and traps they can dream up, but in the end they'll go along. To the point that we have the basics, what people need to be secure again from fear of the government. "The other things, dismantling the welfare state, bringing order to the inner cities, tax relief for the working citizens and tax accountability for the big corporate entities that have been escaping taxation for so long, those things will take longer but the process will begin. "And as we demonstrated, we can speak directly to the people in near real time, with printed communications that don't disappear when people turn off the television or computer. No one else has that capability, at the level we do." "Any idea on how things are going on in the White House?" Carter asked. "Some," Donald replied. "General Anthony and the army chief, a General Talley, are soundly in our corner. The president is aware of it, but apparently the other staff members are not. They may suspect there's nothing they can do. We are able to communicate freely with them, since they aren't having to do it surreptitiously. So we're effectively in the room with them. We left the president a one-time pad, General Anthony knows how to use it, so we can send messages in if we need to. But he's got things pretty well in hand. Once the president took the leap, there was no going back." "Am I the only one finding this anti-climactic?" Tommy asked. "Probably not," Jessica said. "I expected worse, I guess. And out there" she gestured to the television screens "it was. They'll be cleaning up for a long time." "I'd say that's a good thing," Tommy said. "Keeping people busy helps reduce mischief." "All that training and practice," Jerry said, "and we didn't see any action. But I can't say I'm sorry. I wouldn't have wanted to do what some of us had to." "It wasn't easy," Scott said, "necessary as it was. The doubt is always there, about whether you did the right thing." "You going back go Valle de Oro?" asked Jessica. "Yeah," Scott said. "I wouldn't mind staying here for a while, but someone is expecting me." "Glad to hear it," Jessica said. "I hope we all can find a normal dull life after all this. And Tommy and James can get busy on their families. Either of you got anyone in mind?" Tommy laughed. "You trying to get us married off already?" "None of us are getting younger," Jessica said. "And you've given up a good part of your life already." "I'll see what I can do," Tommy said. "Now that I don't have to look after my kid sister. Take care of her, Darrell. She's one of a kind." "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," Carter said. "So are you going to stick around, James." "If you don't mind having me, I think I'd like to. Little Rock is no place for me. Or for any sane person, for that matter. When we eventually get all of this sorted out, I hope the unspoiled boonies will be here." "It's about lunch time," said Donald. "If anyone's interested." Back at home, Carter and Jessica found themselves sitting in front of a television neither of them seemed interesting in turning on. Eventually Jessica spoke. "Why don't you bring us some wine and I'll put on some music." Carter opened a bottle and brought two glasses into the living room. Across the room from the couch an old high-end sound system was lighted and was playing music. "Nice," he said, handing her a glass. "Tangerine Dream," she said. "Something from the 70s or 80s, I believe. I learned what little I know from Jerry. He was an audiophile, hated what had happened to music, and especially the quality of the sound. He thought the decay of society was demonstrated in what had happened to music." "I wish I'd known him," Carter said. "So do I," she said, very softly. Carter sat silently, knowing she was, quietly, still grieving. Eventually she looked up at him, leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and the sat silently for a while. "It's all right now," she said after a while. "The last thing Jerry would have wanted would be for me to stop living because he wasn't here any more. It's always been hard, but these last few years have helped push it aside. But it's going to be all right." They finished the wine and he got up to take the glasses into the kitchen. Going back into the living room he looked out the large picture window. It was well after dark, and the field of stars was framed in the window, a thousand points of light in a deep darkness. "I guess we should get some sleep," he said. |
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Chapter 78 -- NCRUGPRRTLSPXKPUCSDIZRF
Grant Page and the other members of the committee got into two of their trucks and drove over over to the compound where Luther's group now resided again. The congregation, as they thought of it, had returned. Five of their number had died in the assault, and several more wounded. The feds had rounded up a few of those who fled after the assault and they had remained jailed until the armistice, as he now thought of it, for lack of a better word. It seemed that Brad and Alex, the two men who had visited prior to the attack on the capitol, were indeed part of the organization that had started the war. In the chaos that followed their preliminary attacks on the national infrastructure all federal law enforcement resources became in the effort to stop them, so they had no time for tracking down the remaining fugitives. The ones who had been captured and jailed had been released and the charges against them dismissed without any possibility of being reinstated. Not that it would have been likely. The League of Freeholds, as he now knew they were called, had negotiated a concise but thorough agreement with the federal government, effectively making it impossible to prosecute any person for acts committed prior to the treaty. It covered all participants on both sides, as well as the independent operators. The government didn't like it much, but they had little choice. The damage done would take literally years to repair, and they had been against the wall. The League had been both bold and clever, he reflected. Taking the chance on launching an insurrection was gutsy and spoke of a confidence that might be backed by considerably more power than they had shown. And in winning, they had gained concessions that would have been impossible in years, decades of political fights. Time will tell, he thought. Meanwhile it was time to help their neighbors to rebuild. He and the others had come to like Luther and his people, quiet and affable, not unlike the Amish and Mennonites he had occasionally dealt with. Yet when a certain line was crossed, they did not back away. "Grant, Bill, good to see you," Luther greeted them as they dismounted. The other committee and Luther's elders shook hands all around. "Come with me," he said, turning toward a small cottage off to one side of his house. Inside he led them to what looked like a dining room, or maybe it was a conference room with a fancy table. The long, heavy oak table looked like an antique dining table. "That's from my grandfather's home," he said, noticing their interest. "I'm not sure how old it is. My family and I had many holiday dinners there when I was young. It ended up with my family after my parents passed, and we've used it here for a meeting table. The elders will be joining us shortly." "How are things?" Grant asked as they waited. "With the obvious considerations, quite well," Luther answered. "You know, of course, that we lost five of our members in the attack. Several were wounded, and unfortunately some were imprisoned. They are all back now. And of course, you spared our children being exposed to the danger, and the unpleasantness of what occurred. We are most grateful for that." "We're happy to have been of service," said Arthur. "Were any of the children affected personally by your losses? Parents or other close kin?" "Sadly, yes. One of the men who died was the father of two of the children. Their mother fortunately survived, and we're a very close community. We really are like one big family. They are young, one is six and the other eight. We can't bring back their father, but we hope they will live in a better world now. There at least seems to be a realistic hope." "It would seem so," Arthur said, as the six elders entered together. They all exchanged greetings and sat down. "I conveyed our gratitude to our neighbors for their assistance," Luther told his brethren. "They've come to see if they can render any further help." All nodded and briefly voiced their thanks. "We were honored to be of service," Arthur said. "If there is any more we can do, let us know." "Our thanks again," said Luther. "At this time we are, fortunately, mostly just cleaning up and repairing damage. You saved us from the worst that could have happened, considering the things that have happened in the past." "That's good to hear," Douglas said. "Have you been keeping track of the affairs of government?" "Somewhat," Luther replied. "We look at the major events that affect us, how they are being addressed. At this point we are praying that this, process, is successful. What is your assessment?" "We're hopeful," Arthur said. "It seems evident that the government was not in a position to continue to resist. Their apparent capitulation, however, is by no means guaranteed to last. I suspect that even now they are seeking ways to undermine the League's victory, and only by constant vigilance will they be thwarted. It will probably be a while, years perhaps, before we have a really clear picture of this new America. And before we can see if it will last." "One of the things you are interested in," said Gerald, "is the education law they used against you. It was one of the first ones repealed when Congress reconvened. It apparently was deemed a small sacrifice in view of the big picture. Still, it is a welcome development." "On that subject," Douglas said, "if there are any ways in which we can help in educational matters, we'd be happy to. Sharing resources, techniques." "We may well wish to do that," Luther said. "Most of the major things, the really big ones," Grant said, "will probably come quite a bit later. The voting reforms will be contentions - it's one of the primary weapons the enemy used to gain unopposed control of the government. If that isn't fixed, the new republic may not last long. But the weapons laws are certain to be fixed, essentially codifying a prohibition of regulation at any level of personal weapons." "There'll be weeping and wailing in a few states, some of the big cities, but they're over a barrel too," said Arthur. "One of the things that will take a long time is rebuilding them. The central government has leverage there. But I believe election reform will go a long way toward preventing a recurrence of what went wrong, at least for a while." "It's always just a while," Luther said. "We'll do our best to make it a long while, as I'm sure you will." "That we will," said Douglas. "We're looking forward to being neighbors for a long time." "As are we," Luther said. |
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Chapter 79 -- ASYTLHJDUANTLUGSQ
The day was unusually warm for December. Carter was wearing a light poplin windbreaker and was already warm after the short walk. Jessica stood beside him, looking out over the expanse of cut-off cornstalks left after the harvest, a light blanket of snow covering the ground between them. Both were silent, as they often were on these walks. It was not that there was nothing to say but that words were often superfluous to their companionship. He looked down at her and sensing his gaze she turned to meet his eyes. After a moment she leaned against him, slightly on her toes to put her lips to his. After a few long moments they let go and looked back at the snowy fields, and she took his hand. He seemed to have put the past behind him, but she wondered if he could ever be completely free. He hadn't had a bad dream since the one just before the beginning of the campaign. But he seemed to have a somewhat pensive air most of the time. He laughed readily enough when something was amusing, and was always at ease in any company, but that sober aspect was always present. He had been through plenty though, she thought, before they met. They never talked about prison - she assumed that if he wanted to he would bring it up, and if he didn't it was because he didn't want to discuss it. In any case, she thought, we've all got plenty to have doubts about. A lot of people had died in the conflict, as it was now generally called, and they all had played a part, even if they were never in combat. They had supplied explosives and weapons for the sabotage teams, and the damage done with them had led to the carnage in the cities. "We have to weigh that against doing nothing," he had said when they talked about it. "God will not hold us guiltless, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, if we fail to act." And while we don't know with certainty how involved he was in the assassination attempt on Hitler, it would seem that he regarded it as necessary, and right." It didn't make it easier, she thought. You could try to put the blame where it belonged, but the nagging feelings of guilt remained. That is how you know, he had told her. The guilt, even if misplaced, or because it is, means you have a functioning conscience. The people who made this necessary had not a shred of conscience in the entire group. He was right, she knew. And perhaps in time she could find the peace she had wanted for so long. And Carter too, because she suspected he harbored the same doubts. The the best lack all conviction, as someone had said, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. It was never more clear than it had been in these times. She held his hand tightly, leaning against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. It was becoming colder. "Dinner should be ready soon," he said. Dalton and Mary had recently returned, as had her grandfather. Regular evening meals had been the rule recently, and there seemed no immediate need to break the routine. Scott had returned to his freehold, and James, being one of the beneficiaries of immunity dispensed after the treaty, had resumed his original identity. As before, he and Tommy were dating young local women, although St. Joseph was now local for them. They sometimes joined the family dinners, although Jessica was not yet sure if there was a regular one for either of them. "Yeah," Jessica said. "We should get inside anyway." Arms around each other's waists they walked back towards the house. Dinner was as usual, featuring a ham whose donor had never seen the inside of a building until it was time to become food. The war hadn't lasted long enough to deplete the pantry with its supply of mostly homegrown foods from the MacArthur or other freeholds. The cherry pie was made with cherries from a grower in Michigan who was a League member. Mary and Dalton were aware of the war and the part the MacArthur freehold had played in it. In their view it was no different than if Donald, Jessica, and the others had enlisted in the armed forces and gone abroad to combat a foreign aggressor. The fate of the republic was at stake and they had done what had to be done. Gordon was happy to not only be home with family and friends again but with the prospect of it being a long-lasting condition. "You've given this old man peace for the years he has left," he said. "For our children, and theirs, I hope it can last a long time." After dinner they repaired to the command post, continuing their habit of daily checks on the state of affairs. Thus far things were progressing as they had hoped, with an amazingly small of resistance, at least on the surface. Many of the wealthy who had, either through foolishness for the most part or avarice and megalomania in others, supported the dismantling of the constitution, now took the easier course at least gave lip service to the new order. Without doubt many were already plotting to reverse it, but the damage had been done. As for the news media, once the new situation was explained, continued as before. Which is to say, they read what was put in front of them and continued to collect their pay. The endless analysis of course continued, and Carter and his friends enjoyed their confusion, as the most essential information was not forthcoming and would not be, given that the League continued to be as secretive as ever, and the administration was not about to reveal the truth. It seemed that for the foreseeable future, the country would be a much better place for almost everyone. There would be haggling over the attempted, more of as time went on and the enemy regained courage. But much of the essential work had already been done, and the patriots, whether organized in the League or on their own, would resist attempts to stop it or roll it back. And the specter of Black Friday would remain - the patriots would see to that as well. They watched a few segments of the various news shows, occasionally commenting or laughing at something that only they knew the meaning of. The attack on the presidential compound was still being discussed regularly, and somehow the name of Ishmael had made its way into the public discussion. Those in the group of course knew of it as the conversations with the president had been recorded and had spread through the leadership of the freeholds. "I've been meaning to ask," Jessica said after the name came up in a news segment "Who is Ishmael? Or are we allowed to know?" "Of course," Donald replied. "No secrets there, at least. I wonder how it got out to the public. I suspect it was General Anthony, for whatever reasons he might have. Or one of the staff may have leaked it - come to think of it, that is more probable. They can't resist any chance to be important. "As for who Ishmael is, he's William Garrison. You all trained at his freehold at Silver Lake. One of the reasons I wanted you to go was to train with his army, see what he had." "The Ninjas and Rangers," Jessica said. "Am I right in guessing they were part of Black Friday?" "A fairly large part," Donald said. "He provided about a dozen of the squads, and all hit their targets." "They seemed quite competent," Carter said. "Probably the enemy doesn't suspect things like that exist - Silver Lake and some of the others that have such capable forces." "The strength of the League," Donald said, "at the risk of seeming ironic, is in its diversity. An often abused term, but in our case it is the diversity of our backgrounds, our capabilities. We had squads which combined the stealth of William's Ninjas with experience with explosives, for example. A few men with explosives and incendiaries can do a lot of damage, as the enemy found, but only if then can access the target, do the job and egress safely. And our air transport service was invaluable. "As long as our secrecy is preserved, something that is easier now that the state surveillance capability is diminished, we can remain ready and continue to grow. We'll be here, ready. "The autonomous states, when that comes to be, will be a big help," Carter said. "They can provide a friendlier environment, even less meddling and spying." "Very likely," said Donald. "Already some of them, pending final settlement of the conditions, are preparing to build militias of considerable capability. The restructuring of the federal tax system will leave more money in the autonomous states, while the ability to end the massive welfare spending will leave even more. And as the wealth migrates to those states, you know how that goes. "And the freeholds will be here, a shadow force, ready to act if necessary." "Unfortunately Missouri doesn't seem ready to follow that route," Jessica said. "Too much of the idle population now to overcome. And as other states stop supporting them, they'll migrate to the states that will." "It doesn't look good," Donald agreed. "But if they have to learn the hard way, so be it. Eventually, though, even they will have to face reality. The most importance consequence of what we've done - besides saving the country from ruin and restoring the constitution - is that we return to the roots of what was intended by the constitution. The states must compete, and without the government to take from the successful to support the unsuccessful, they'll adapt. If may be a slow and painful process, but it will happen." "Are we likely to leave?" Jessica asked. "Possibly," said Donald, "if it goes that way. We don't want to give up everything we've built here, but Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas - all are good places if we have to start over. The main thing is keeping the country on track, to give us, maybe, another two centuries." "Jerry, would you like to go back to Arkansas?" she asked. "I wouldn't mind," he said. "Just not to Little Rock." A commercial for a new television series came on, one of the first they had seen in weeks. The conflict had preempted all regular programming. They watched and looked at each other. "It looks like the cultural decay is being resumed." Jessica said. "I hope we do get a couple of centuries, but not if some people can help it." |
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