Chapter 38 -- KYSURVOEHOGYEP HFKF
Carter and Jessica waited in the car, watching the sky. The ETA Tommy had given
when he called had just passed, and the incoming flight should be landing soon.
Before long the small dot in the western sky grew to the size that showed it
to be an airplane. The St. Joseph airport wasn't especially busy so it was
probably them.
Ironically, Carter thought, the airport housed a Missouri Air National Guard
airlift wing, which had supplied U.S. forces in the Middle East wars. It was
now being used to transport some of the warriors who would bring down that
government.
The Piper Navajo rolled past their position and turned from the runway onto a
taxiway headed their way. After Tommy and James disembarked the pilots, two
of them Carter noticed, took the aircraft to refuel. Carter and Jessica
removed their luggage and Tommy and James put theirs, they would return home
in the car.
"I can't wait to get there," Jessica said. "It must be pretty good - Dad doesn't
play games."
"I'm sure it will be," said Tommy. "But there's a practical reason for the secrecy.
Every minute from here on is dead serious."
Tommy and James waited until the aircraft was ready and Carter and Jessica had
stowed their luggage and boarded.
"Welcome aboard," the younger of the two pilots greeted them. "I'm Aaron, and
the AC is Stephen. Welcome to Silver Lake Air. We'll be in the air for just
over two hours. So let's get you strapped in and we'll get going."
A few minutes later they were climbing into the bright late summer sky, the
Great Plains sliding beneath them as they flew west. They didn't know the
destination, so reticent had Donald been. Even Jessica was not familiar with
Silver Lake, and apparently her father had never had occasion to mention it.
She wondered what was not different.
"You know what AC is, don't you?" Jessica asked.
"I was guessing Aircraft Commander," he replied. "I'm learning."
"You've learned a lot in a short time. I was pretty much born into it, and
Tommy has been around a while. You and James have had to get acclimated quickly."
"Yeah," he said. "But we could have all the time in the world and not be ready
for the reality of it when it's happening."
"Someone, probably more than someone, said that no plan survives first contact
with the enemy," Jessica said. "Tommy and Jerry both said that any certainty
goes out the window when the action starts."
Carter looked over at her, catching the change in her mood. He started to speak,
then waited.
"Sorry," she said. "I think about Jerry all the time but rarely say his name.
Even with Dad and Tommy we don't talk about him much. I guess all this has us
preoccupied. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he were still here.
"Are you still determined to go after McCormick? You don't have to - there's
enough for us to do."
"Would you?"
"Probably," she admitted. "But you can't do it alone. You'll need help
finding him, getting him in a position to..."
"Kill him?"
"Can you do that?"
"He isn't just a contemptible miscreant who sent an innocent man to prison and
destroyed his life to advance his career. You've seen how deeply he's into
this regime, he won't just be destroying one life - what they're trying to
do will affect millions. And he probably doesn't believe anything he says,
just parrots it for his masters. And that's the real evil."
"So it isn't personal any more?"
"Of course it is." He turned to smile at her. "I'd be lying if I said it isn't.
But, I had the chance to end it before, and I left him alive as a punishment.
But it's time for him to go, with the rest."
They looked out the windows for a while, the enormity of their country laid
out beneath them. Their enemies wanted it all, for whatever reasons their
twisted minds conceived. Most of them lived in cities on the coasts and saw
the rest of the country when they flew over it. All the freeholders wanted
was freedom for people, freedom from fear, exploitation, all the things the
enemy would inflict.
"There's no way to understand those people," she said. "None of what they do
makes any sense, unless you're deranged. Why are some people obsessed with
the desire to control other people's lives?"
"If you find out, let me know," replied Carter. "The only thing that makes sense
is they're mentally ill. And dictators historically, at least in modern times,
have been crazy. Hitler, Stalin, and little ones like Amin and the other
African and South Americans, are at the very least paranoid, and some
demonstrably insane."
"The insane rise to the top," Jessica said. "Of course they spend their lives
climbing, and pushing the competition off the ladder at every opportunity. It
certainly isn't indicative of normal minds."
"And being narcissists, they never consider the consequences," Carter said.
"If they get what they want, total control, they'll start in killing each other.
After any revolution is successful, the revolutionaries begin fighting among
themselves. Not so different from the Mafia - they kill each other off at an
appalling rate, yet each one thinks it won't happen to him."
"That won't do us much good," Jessica said. "But it should assuage any guilt
we feel beforehand. If there's guilt afterward, we'll have to live with it."
They fell silent for a while, and Carter began to feel drowsy. They had
gotten up early to meet their incoming comrades, and the sound of the engines
lulled him to sleep. Jessica was also tired, and looking over at him sleeping,
she laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
He awoke as the co-pilot looked around the bulkhead and said "We'll be landing
in about ten minutes. Buckle up if you're not."
He looked out the window as the aircraft began a descent, bringing them closer
to the rural landscape. The area didn't look very developed, and as the
aircraft rolled along the runway he could see that there were no buildings
outside, only trees. They turned and traversed the taxiway to what was
apparently the only building except for several hangars that looked about the
size for accommodating two or three small aircraft. A few more aircraft were
tied down in the parking area.
When they stopped he saw a car outside, an older but immaculate luxury car of
some sort. Never much of a car nut, he wasn't sure what kind it was. The co-
pilot opened the passenger door and lowered the steps, standing by to help
them descend.
"Welcome to Forrest City, Colorado," he said. "Your car is waiting, and it's
been a pleasure to serve you."
"Thanks," Jessica said. "It was a nice trip."
"Enjoy your stay," said Aaron.
The two men standing by the car had come over and helped them carry their
luggage. The car looked like a regular passenger car stretched a couple of
feet to make more room for the passengers. The badge on the trunk lid
proclaimed it to be a Fifth Avenue
As they drove away Carter saw that the airport was in a hilly area, with the
nearby down mostly a few hundred feet lower.
"I'm Harry," the man in the passenger seat said as they got underway. "And
Mark is driving."
Mark turned briefly to acknowledge the introduction.
"In case they didn't tell you," Jessica said, "I'm Jessica and this is Darrell."
"Mr. Thompson gave us your names and descriptions," Harry said. "It's not
likely anyone would hijack the plane replace you, but we can't be too careful.
If you don't need to stop in town for anything we'll go around it. We're out
in the country a ways."
"We're fine," said Jessica.
The road from the airport took them along the edge of town, which didn't seem
large.
"Is that Forrest City?" Carter asked.
"Such as it is," Harry replied. "Population eleven thousand or so. They have a
reasonably good airport because of a couple of big factories here, the execs
like to fly their jets in. Like most freeholds, Silver Lake is pretty self
contained. When we need something they don't have here we usually go
over to Westminster."
They followed a two-lane highway for several miles before turning onto another
paved road that with a closed gate just far enough from the road to allow a
vehicle to stop and wait for it to be opened. Harry produced a small hand-
held radio and pushed the talk button. It looked like the same type he had
seen in use on trips to other freeholds.
"Malachi. Go ahead." came the voice at the other end.
"Pelican one," said Harry.
"How many fish did you catch?"
"Eighty-three," Harry replied.
In a few seconds the gate opened and Mark drove through. About a hundred
yards further on the road turned slightly and they were in a forest, of large
old trees but with the undergrowth cleared so it looked to be easily
traversable on foot. After a few more turns in the road they were well out of
sight of the highway, and a large building loomed before them.
It was, Carter judged, about two hundred feet across and three floors high.
It had an old look to it, but was in pristine condition. A large entrance at
the center was inset a good twenty feet or so, forming a large sheltered area
in front of the large doors. A large circular drive passed in front of the
entrance.
"Here we are," said Mark as Stephen stopped the car. Mark got out and opened
the door for Jessica, who was on the side nearest the entrance, while Carter
opened his door and got out. Stephen remained with the car. As they carried
their luggage towards the entrance, the doors opened and two uniformed men
emerged, taking their bags. A third man in a suit appeared.
"Please follow me," he said. Carter saw Mark returning to the car, and the men
carrying their bags followed.
"Your name isn't Alfred, is it?" asked Jessica.
"Not at all," their guide laughed. "Although I am English. Hugh Dowling, late
of Her Majesty's Yorkshire Regiment, at your service. I suppose, is the old bat still
alive? In any case, for all the theatrics, we're quite serious here, and one of my
functions is personal guard for my employer, whom you are about to
meet. Not that he much needs my services in the area, as you will see."
They had traversed a corridor floored with what looked like dark slate tiles,
and stood before an elevator. Hugh pressed the button, and the door opened.
Hugh motioned for them to enter. After the doors closed he pressed the button
for the third floor and the elevator quickly and smoothly ascended.
"Your luggage is being taken to your room," Hugh said. "Mr. Garrison is in his
office at the end of the hall. He's expecting you."
"This is a little comic bookish," said Jessica. "Well, let's do it."
They walked the short distance to the door, which opened just as they reached
it. A tall distinguished-looking man stood there.
"William Garrison at your service," he said, moving aside and motioning
them to take the two chairs in from of the large, expensive-looking desk. In
fact, everything in the office looked expensive, even the wall paint exuded an
air of quality. Carter noted that he had not offered to shake
hands, something quite a few of the freeholders also eschewed.
As they seated themselves he walked around and sat down. He looked down at
the desk for a few moments. Carter saw that he was older than he had first
thought. He appeared to be in his seventies, as old as Jessica's grandfather.
He was wearing khaki trousers and shirt, of the military cut favored by most
freeholders. The belt was navy blue web with a silver roller buckle of a type
used in military uniforms. He was several inches little taller than Carter's was five feet seven.
He looked up, as if he had forgotten what he was doing.
"Jessica, Darrell, it's good to meet you at last. You've likely never heard
of me - my part in this is fairly secret, as are some others - but you father
and I go back a good ways, to the beginning. He's told me a lot about you,
and especially since you came on board, Darrell, I've been wanting to meet you.
Evidently quite a lot, thought Carter. Hugh had told them their luggage was
taken to their room - that they would be sleeping together would have been known.
"Tommy and James found their time here quite enlightening, and I'm sure you
will as well. As to the rather, shall we say, dramatic atmosphere - well, to the world I'm
an eccentric and extremely wealthy old man with a big estate and is values his
privacy. Which it true but only part of the story. If only the gossips knew
what goes on here, well, you'll see.
"Unlike many of today's billionaires, most of whom got where they are by luck - or even less admirable methods -
or in other cases taking advantage of people smarter than them but too trusting, I got rich the
old fashioned way. Like Sam Walton, who was likely the last honest
businessman of such stature. Even among today's magnates who did have the
practical skills to start their businesses, most of the wealth came from the
current climate of investor madness, with trillions of dollars coming from the
investment of working peoples being thrown around by the fund managers, a few,
very few of them became wealthy to the point they can't even realistically
visualize what their wealth means.
"Like the Middle East oil merchants, who have so little understanding of
things that they literally bought expensive cars and abandoned them on the
streets when they ran of gas. They buy expensive artworks, enormous yachts,
anything that struck their fancy because they had what seemed like an endless
supply of money.
"Of course, eventually reality as caught up to some of them, to some extent,
but to the new crop of billionaires in America, it hasn't come yet. Even when the
stock markets, where the wealth really is - in the perception of investors -
fluctuate they aren't concerned. A few billions out of hundreds - they don't
care. Only when the golden goose dies do they notice.
"In any case, that's nothing you didn't already know. As for me, I got into
a good business back in the late seventies, early eighties. This was just
before the microprocessor revolution changed the whole information technology
picture and just about everything could be bought off the shelf, and usually
quite inexpensively. There was a lot of money in custom development in banking,
accounting, retail - we sold software packages, mini-computers, software,
maintenance contracts - it was quite lucrative. With a couple of partners I
started up such a company and within a few years we were all millionaires. Not a
big deal today, but back then a guy with even a few million was rich.
"We got in at the right time and were able to ride it for nine or ten years,
and then we sold at the right time. Just before everything became commoditized,
all off-the-shelf with support outsourced to India, the larger companies in
that market were buying up the smaller ones at ridiculous prices. So we sold
and left with a big pile of money. I settled down to investing and growing my
fortune. It's easier when you start out with a lot, as long as you don't get
foolish or really unlucky.
"But as you've observed, over the last few years things have fallen apart fast.
Even after the nineties, even after 2016, it looked like there was hope. Some
of us thought there would be years of back-and-forth between the parties,
occasional reversal of the decay followed by more decay, and so on. But after
2020 we knew the jig was up. It was just going to a matter of how fast they
moved. And they're moving fast.
"So, we're up against it. We're at the water's edge - soon the die will be cast."
He leaned back in his chair and looked over at them, not waiting for a
response but thinking. Finally he spoke again.
"I know you've been over this with Donald. The reason he wanted you to come
here was for a final bit of conditioning, that may save you in the times ahead,
and save our mission. Come, I have something to show you."