THE SECOND

CIVIL WAR

BOOK I

A NATION

DIVIDED

By

MW HUFFMAN

A

PREAMBLE

TO WAR

This Is Dedicated to:

My wife, Susan, for the love and support along with the countless hours reading my stories, and to the men and women who might one day be forced to choose sides and who will fight to keep America one Nation Under God.

A Nation Divided - Civil War II

© 2012 – MW Huffman

All Rights Reserved

A WaJe Production

No part of this book may be reproduced without the written permission of MW Huffman and/or WaJe Productions

This is a work of fiction. It represents no persons living or dead. The events are invented by the author. While there are elements of truth to the story it should not be taken as fact.

Other Books By MW Huffman

THE END–BOOK I of The Event Series

THE BEGINNING–BOOK II of The Event Series

THE REVELATION–BOOK III of The Event Series

The Second Civil War–BOOK I-A Nation Divided

The Second Civil War–Book II-A Nation at War

The Second Civil War–Book III–A Nation Healing

Project BlueBolt – BOOK I – American Gulags

Project BlueBolt – BOOK II - The Gulag Journal

Project BlueBolt – BOOK III – American Uprising

REVOLUTION

THE BRINK

CLOSE PROXIMITY

BLACKSTAR

CHIMERA

WORLDS END

SUN BURST

Sins of the Fathers

The Unfinished

Angie Bartoni Case File # 1 - The Alphabet Murders

Angie Bartoni Case File # 2 - Frost Bite

Angie Bartoni Case File # 3 - Dead Aim

Angie Bartoni Case File # 4 - What Goes Around

Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 - Nothing to Lose

Angie Bartoni Case File # 6 - Shadow Man

Angie Bartoni Case File # 7 – The Club

Angie Bartoni Case File # 8 – Shakespeare Murders

Angie Bartoni Case File # 9 – One Too Many

Angie Bartoni Case File #10 – Weak Link

Angie Bartoni Case File #11 – Vanishing Act

Angie Bartoni Case File #12 – Revenge

Angie Bartoni Case File #13 – Payback

Angie Bartoni Case File #14 – Dead on Arrival

The Logan Files - Blond Deception

The Logan Files - Innocence and Avarice

The Logan Files - The Deal Breaker

The Logan Files – Pain Center

Norris Files - Silver2

Norris Files – Insurrection

“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feelings which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.”

-John Stuart Mill (1806 - 1873)

The Second Civil War – Book I

A Nation Divided ©2013 By

MW HUFFMAN

A  WaJe Production

THE PREAMBLE

TO WAR

PROLOGUE

Wars do not just happen, they take time to develop. Important issues must be left unresolved and simmering. They usually happen when one group unites against the mistreatment, real or perceived, of another group.

Many find themselves caught between two opposing views and quite often they are forced to make a choice. Perhaps the greater tragedy in a Civil War is that it can cause a division of families. Relatives who choose one side while you choose another will become your enemies once hostilities break out. It has happened in other countries countless times but it has only happened once before in American history. The American Civil War not only divided the nation but families as well. In a Civil War every casualty depletes the nation’s most precious resource, human life.

War is evil BUT sometimes war is better than peace when the stakes are high enough. When politicians actually believe they can regulate citizens into submission the division begins. While they are correct to some extent there is a flash point where those same citizens will no longer allow themselves to be pushed into a corner.

What happens when the government oversteps its purpose and authority? The purpose of the government is to ensure our freedom and to protect our liberty. Its purpose is NOT to control our personal lives and to deprive us of our Constitutional rights.

How many would fight to maintain their freedom and Constitutional rights? How many would stick their heads in the sand and hope somehow it would be all right? It is one thing to want peace but quite another to be too afraid to stand up for what is right. The fastest way to become a slave of the state is to fail to stand up against the dismissal of the Constitution.

Those who fight the government would be called traitors or worse.  Is that the truth? If the government is no longer serving the people that they were elected to serve and making sure that our freedoms are secure, who are the real traitors?

Those who will stand up and say that enough is enough will be the true heroes of tomorrow.

CHAPTER ONE

The drapes were drawn tight against the windows. It was more to ensure that no listening devices could pick up the conversation than for blocking the sunlight.

Six men and four women sat in various chairs and on sofas facing the large desk currently occupied by President Benjamin Quasim. The President was tapping his pen lightly against the leather blotter on his desk.

“Is there anyone in this room who is uncomfortable about our plans to narrow the scope of the second amendment? If you have even the least amount of doubt regarding our course of action, now is the time to speak up,” the President said, looking around the room.

No one spoke up but the one thing that the President was good at was reading body language.

“Alice? You seem a bit uncomfortable. You have some qualms?” he asked the Secretary of Labor.

“Not really. I mean...” she said not finishing the sentence.

“Go on. I want each person's input. Please,” he said in his most reassuring voice.

“Well it’s just that I think a lot of people are going to be very upset. I mean, I don’t personally have a problem with the plan but I do think that we are underestimating how the people will react.”

“Based on what?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk.

“Well, I think the recent poll pretty clearly tells us how people feel about the government’s interference with their second amendment rights. It showed eighty-six percent of the population favors the private individual’s right to gun ownership.”

“That’s a crock of crap,” interjected Secretary of State, Hanna Cole.

“Why do you say that?” challenged Alice Dell.

“Statistics are just a bunch of numbers. They can be manipulated to say what you want them to say.”

“So when we quote the opposite statistics they are just a bunch of made up numbers. Is that what you are saying?”

“No Alice, I’m saying I don’t really care what they think.  We are going to eliminate private ownership of guns. It’s as simple as that.”

“And what if they don’t see it that way? What if the citizens say no?”

“That will be the day. They are all sheep. You tell them to do something and they may bitch and moan a bit but in the end they will do it.”

“You’re that sure?” Alice shot back.

“Yes I am and you should be too if you’re in this room.”

“Easy Hanna. I asked the question and I am definitely interested in what she is saying. Back it down a notch,” the President said.

Secretary of State Hanna Cole shut her mouth tight. She could feel her neck getting red as she fought back her fury. She had little respect for President Quasim. She considered him weak and indecisive. He wanted to talk every decision to death.  The man couldn’t just choose a plan and move on. If it were up to her, she would get rid of anyone who didn’t want to go along with the plan.

“Go on Alice,” the President prompted.

“Okay, you may remember a few years ago when one of the individuals running for President was a guy named Ron Paul. In one of his speeches he said something like, ‘Governments, whether they are dictatorships or democracies reflect the people. When the people get fed up, they throw them out.’ When you stop and think about that for a few seconds, it’s a pretty powerful statement about what people are capable of.”

“And you are afraid they will put up a fight over the second amendment?”

“I think it is a very real possibility,” Alice said.

The President looked around the room trying to measure the impact that Alice’s statement had on the others. He could almost see the wheels turning in the head of Secretary of Education, Brenda Shaw-Wilkins. He couldn’t get a reading on his Chief of Staff, Sarah Slone. Secretary of State, Hanna Cole was an open book. All she wanted to do was move on. The others seemed to be waiting to see what he would say.

“Then maybe we need to refine our approach a little better. Slip it in less obviously,” he suggested.

“With all due respect Mr. President, we don’t need to slip it in. Begging your pardon but you are a lame duck President. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone any longer. We can push this through. We need to get this done,” Cole replied.

“I understand your urgency but I think that Alice has a valid point. What would we do if we had a general uprising? What are we going to do, start killing Americans?”

“We do whatever is necessary. That is exactly the point. We have to get the guns out of the individual’s hands. We can only do that by taking away their suppliers and ammunition,” Hanna insisted.

“It’s the taking away part that will be challenging. A lot of them will simply choose not to give them up,” he replied.

“Then we arrest them. If they resist, we use whatever force is necessary. We have the media on our side. They can put the proper spin on it to make it look like we are the ones protecting the citizens. Those opposed to the plan are the gun nuts. We have all kinds of groups that can skew statistics to serve our purpose,” Hanna said.

“I thought you said statistics were pretty much worthless,” Alice cut in.

Hanna didn’t reply; she just shot Alice a dirty look.

“James, what do you think?”

“Well, I can see both sides.”

“We all can James. What I am asking is how do you view our current plan?”

“I think maybe we should look at how we intend to implement the plan a little more closely to make sure our ducks are in a row.”

“Humm,” the President uttered.

He was wondering why he had chosen him to be his Vice President anyway. Yeah, James Jason was from a large swing state but still, the man was a dud. No creativity whatsoever.

“Noel?”

The Attorney General played with his mustache before speaking.

“Alice is certainly right in that we could find ourselves backed into a corner at some point. The key will be to sweep in fast and furious to disarm those with weapons. It has to be done before they can react and get organized. On such a large scale, it will be a very difficult task,” he replied.

“But you think we should go ahead?”

“Once we are assured that we can do this lightning quick.  The military will have to help as well as the civilian police forces.”

“That may not be so easy,” the President said.

“It should be. You’re the Commander-In-Chief. They have to obey any orders you give,” Hanna interjected.

“Can we handle it?” the President asked, ignoring Cole and looking at Adam Little, head of Homeland Security.

“Like Hanna said, we get the military in place along with the other agencies and we can swoop in and get them before they have time to organize. Yeah, I think we can pull it off.”

“I can call a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and make it perfectly clear what your orders are Mr. President,” Roland Clarke, Secretary of Defense said.

“How do you know all the branches will do as ordered? I mean after all, this will affect all branches down to the lowest level. Admiral Greenfield of the Navy and General Amblin are not in favor of the Small Arms Treaty the UN is trying to push through with our help,” the President said.

“True, but they are military men. They will do whatever they are ordered to do. You are the Commander-in-Chief and they are required to follow your orders.”

“Do you have any doubts at all about them following my orders?”

“Well, not really. I mean someone could balk but I’m not sure others would actually follow their orders.”

“You’re not sounding too sure of yourself. If you can’t handle them, I’m damn sure I can,” Hanna Cole said.

“Ms. Cole,” the Secretary of Defense said, turning to face her directly, “How about putting a sock in it? You do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“You can’t speak to...”

“Stop it,” the President said, slamming his hand down on the desk, “Enough of this bickering. I won’t stand for it. Ms. Cole, I was talking to Mr. Clarke. Go on Roland,” he said.

“Admiral Greenfield has served under four Presidents. He knows how it works. He didn’t get to be the Chief of Naval Operations by failing to follow orders. He will do so this time as well. As will the Commandant of the Marines, General Amblin.

The Counselor to the President, Ralph Larson, finally spoke up.

“Look, I know what you want to accomplish but we still have to do it within the framework of the law. It will be challenged immediately. We need the Supreme Court on our side. It’s as simple as that.”

“We have that. I appointed two members to the Supreme Court during my last term. All we need is one more and then we can’t lose,” the President said.

“I understand but only one is ready to retire. She is what? Eighty-six? When she goes, then we can be assured of a legal victory as well,” Ralph told the President.

“She will be eighty-seven next month,” the Chief of Staff, Sarah Slone, informed them.

“Eighty-six, eighty-seven, it doesn’t matter. We need her to retire,” Hanna said.

No one bothered to say anything.

“Ralph, do you think you could sort of feel her out to see what her plans are? Nothing too obvious but it would be helpful to know her intentions,” the President asked.

“I can do that. I’ll arrange to meet with her on Sims vs. The United States over the Veteran's Rights case coming up next month. I’ll find a way to slip it in.”

“Good, good. Okay then, let’s get all of our ducks in a row and then we can proceed,” the President said standing up.  It was a signal that the meeting was over.

Everyone stood except the Secretary of State. Benjamin looked over at her.

“Hanna, something else on your mind?”

“I think we should vote on this issue,” she said.

Everyone in the room seemed to stop breathing. It was so quiet that you could almost hear the air molecules bumping into each other.

“Ms. Cole. Does this look like a committee? Let me assure you that it is not. I will decide when we make our move. I will give the order. We will not vote on this or any other issue. Is that quite clear enough for you Ms. Secretary of State?” he said, leaning forward and putting his hands flat on the desk.

Cole stood up slowly, picked up her briefcase and said, “It is indeed,” and turned and walked out of the room.

The rest still stood, mesmerized.

“The meeting is over,” the President said, snapping them out of their trance.

CHAPTER TWO

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, we need to get started. We have a bunch of new business to cover and most of us want to get home in time to see game three.”

He banged the gavel on the wooden block, bringing the meeting to order.

“First up, the minutes of the last meeting need to be read and approved.”

That was quickly taken care of and they moved on to new business.

“The gun club has managed to buy the ten acre parcel next to the current shooting range. The deal finally went through after nonstop negations. We were able to buy it for nine thousand an acre or a total of ninety thousand dollars.”

People began to clap and cheer. They had been trying to buy the land for the past ten years to no avail. The owner had now passed away and left the property to the grandchildren. All they wanted was the money.

“We have already drawn up some plans for the layout of the facility. The construction will mean some inconvenience for a while but in the long run it will be worth it. Other good news is that we did not have to take out a loan to purchase the property. Based on our current and projected finances, we should have enough or only need to borrow a small amount to make the improvements. With a little luck we may not have to borrow anything at all.”

More clapping erupted. Older members could remember when the place was not much more than homemade shooting stands and a bunker to stop the bullets.

The meeting went on for well over an hour before they got to the last two items on the agenda.

Frank Sims was the current President of the Central Florida Sportsman Club. This was only his second meeting as President so he was a little unsure of himself.

“The next item is an important one. The NRA has asked if they could send a representative to our next meeting. They requested about a half hour of our time. I wasn’t sure if I could say yes for the club or we needed to bring it up as a motion.”

“You know what it’s about?” one of the members asked.

“He said it was about the Second Amendment.”

“No kidding. That’s all they ever talk about besides sending them more money,” someone else added.

“Look, I’m okay either way. I just need some direction,” Frank said.

“Let’s vote on it then,” a woman in the front row said.

“Fine with me. Someone want to make a motion?”

“I make the motion to have the NRA come to the next meeting to talk to us,” a tall, weathered man near the back said.

“It’s Larry Wilson isn’t it?” Frank asked.

“Yep,” he said.

“Okay. Larry Wilson has made the motion to allow the NRA time at the next meeting. Do I have a second?”

“I second,” the same woman in the front said.

“Fine. Rose Thompson seconds the motion.”

“Any discussion?” he asked.

No one spoke up.

“Okay, all in favor signify by saying aye.”

A loud chorus of ‘ayes’ were shouted out.

“All opposed?”

No one spoke up.

“The ayes have it. I will call and let them know that they are on. Now for the last item. Carl, why don't you tell them what you think is going on,” Frank said stepping back and sitting down.

Carl Hicks was a lifetime member of the NRA. He had been shooting since the middle 50s and had served two tours in Vietnam during 1967 and 1968. He had worked for Smith & Wesson for a time before finishing college and becoming an attorney.

“Well, not to be an alarmist but I think I should share some information that has made its way to me. Rumor has it that President Quasim and his administration are going to go after the second amendment like never before. Essentially they intend to strip its true meaning and rewrite it to their liking. From what I have gleaned so far, it is a several pronged attack. They intend to use the media to spearhead their agenda. They will also place a huge tax on industries that make guns and ammunition. Third, they intend to make it virtually impossible for the average citizen to buy a gun that shoots more than five rounds. Any gun that holds more than five rounds will be considered an assault weapon and can be confiscated by the police.  Fourth is a limit on the caliber of gun that can be purchased. No gun that can shoot more than a .22 long rifle will be sold to citizens. In short, they intend to put the gun and ammunition manufacturers out of business and limit our ability to buy a weapon of our choosing.”

The room was totally silent.

Finally someone spoke up, “Is that legal? The second amendment will mean nothing anymore.”

“You are exactly right. That is the whole idea. By restricting the intent of the second amendment, they will essentially be able to eliminate the private ownership of guns.”

“They can’t do that.”

“Maybe not today but in the near future this is exactly what we are going to see.”

“What can we do about it? I damn sure ain’t handing over my guns to the government to destroy,” someone said angrily.

“I don’t think you will have a choice. You will be forced to turn them over or go to jail,” Carl replied.

It started slowly but then suddenly everyone started talking at once. The tone became more heated as people began to vent their anger.

It took Frank several seconds of banging the gavel to get everyone to calm down enough for him to speak.

“I know what you are thinking but that doesn’t mean we have to sit by and let it happen. One of the reasons the NRA is coming is to tell us what options we have,” Frank said.

“I can tell you one option I have. They come after my guns and they are going to have a fight on their hands.”

A few others agreed. Most didn’t respond one way or the other. After the meeting was over, several groups formed in the parking lot. Some serious discussions were obviously taking place.

CHAPTER THREE

“Can you believe that man?” Hanna shouted when she got back to her office, “What a pathetic little man he is.”

She was seething from the dressing down the President had given her in front of others. She sat down at her desk and started a list of allies she could muster together to bring pressure on the President. She wanted to force him to quit beating around the bush and push her agenda through.

She was under pressure as well. The anti-gun lobbyists were paying her a great deal of money to get the job done. She wasn’t sure she understood the real reasons they wanted to end private ownership of guns but it didn’t matter as long as they kept paying her large sums of money. She was smart enough to realize that much of the money was coming from foreign interests but money was money no matter where it came from. She compiled her list and started making phone calls.

***

Six men and two women were riding in the back of the Ford E-series commercial van. On the sides and back of the van were signs that said, ‘HANDGUN CONTROL INCORPORATED’. In smaller letters it said, “Citizens for Gun Control’.

The man in the passenger seat said, “We take a left at the next light.”

“I've got it Blake. I’ve been there before.”

“Hey, just doing my navigating duties.”

“Fine, but I do know the way,” the driver insisted.

They made a left turn when the arrow turned green onto Eye Street. When they got to the building with 1225 painted on the side they pulled into the underground parking lot. The gate was down so they had to wait for the guard.

“What can I do for you?” he asked as he walked up to the driver’s window.

“Open the gate?”

“Your card isn’t reading?”

“Ah this darned van. It’s a new one and I don’t think they put the reader in the right place. We’ve had this same trouble twice before.”

“I don’t recognize this van,” he said stepping back and looking it over.

“That’s because it’s new, less than two weeks old. They are starting to replace the older units,” the driver informed him.

“I don’t know. I need to see some identification. I want to call it in before I open the gate.”

“Come on man, give us a break. We are already late. We were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago but you know how the traffic is when it rains.”

“Still. I’d better check it out.”

“Save yourself some time. Call the director and ask her if we are late for our meeting with her.”

“Well. Oh what the hell. I don’t need to bother the director. She is pretty unpleasant to deal with.”

“Tell us about it. She will chew our butts good for being late.”

“Okay, but get the reader fixed.”

“I’ll get right on it,” he said and put the van in gear.

They drove to the far end of the garage and parked right under the HCI offices. The men and women in the back got out first then the navigator. The driver opened the glove box and flipped a switch.

Once he was out, he locked the van and they all got on the elevator and went up to the main level. They broke into smaller groups and exited through four different doors. They all reunited at the corner of K Street and NW 9th Street at Mt. Vernon Square. Minutes later another commercial van pulled up and they all boarded.

“Any problems?” the new driver asked.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” the navigator of the first van replied.

“Excellent,” came the reply.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Mr. President, I don’t know what is going on but we are swamped with calls from the HCI group, along with the CAVG and even the NMG group. They are all saying the same thing. You need to pick up the pace on gun control. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I know who is behind it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it my way. If Ms. Cole thinks she can pressure me into action before I am ready she is sadly mistaken. If anything, I will go even slower just to make her squirm. I don’t like that woman much.”

“Obviously she feels the same about you. She has been trying to make life hell for all of us,” his personal secretary said as she closed the door.

Who does she think she is, Benjamin mused?  He already knew she thought she should be President but this was going too far. Obviously the chastisement didn’t do much good. No, he was going to have to take even stronger action. If she wants to play hard ball I’ll show her how it is really played.

“Betty,” he said over the intercom.

“Yes Mr. President.”

“Could you bring in the list of upcoming overseas functions that we have scheduled?”

“Yes sir, right away.”

A few minutes later she handed him a binder with several pages neatly typewritten. He spent several minutes studying each page until he had formulated a plan. He couldn’t help but chuckle. This would really fry her butt.

***

Chairman Connie Stark had just started the meeting with the Board of Directors.

“Thank you all for coming. I want to especially welcome Mr. Drew Nickels, president of I-Media Advertising and his creative director, Mary Winford. Mr. Nickels and his team have put together an exciting new campaign that I wanted to share with all of you. Mr. Nickels why don’t you show them what we have in mind.”

“Thank you Ms. Stark. Members of the Board. It is a pleasure to be here. I think you will find that what we have produced for you at I-Media will astound and excite you. Ms. Winford is the creative genius behind what you are about to see. Ms. Winford, if you don’t mind?”

Mary Winford was tall with a youthful physique. Her curly blond hair seemed to create a halo around her head. Her blue eyes were piercing and her teeth were a dazzling white. She could have been a model and had even considered it at one time.  Her creative side won out.

“What we have for you are two commercials. One is a thirty second spot and the other a one minute spot. They are designed to build upon each other and to coordinate with others that will soon follow. Our desire would be to run them in blocks simultaneously on all the major networks at once. We would target stations with the largest ADI and flood the market.”

“What is an ADI? I’ve heard the term before but forget what it means.”

“Sorry. Advertising speak. ADI is Area of Dominant Influence. The largest target market if you will.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now the first one you are going to see is the thirty second spot,” she said and clicked on the play icon.

The scene opened with two obvious gang members standing on a street corner. It cut to a kid riding his bike up the street toward them. A car stops and one of the gang members ambles over to the car. Money is passed out the window and a bag of something is passed to the passenger. The car pulls off just as the young boy reached the corner. Another car suddenly whips around the corner and several guns open fire at the two gang members. One gets his gun out and returns a couple of shots before he is hit and goes down. The other guy takes off running and the car goes racing off. The camera cuts back to the gang member lying in a pool of blood. In the corner of the shot you can see a bicycle tire spinning. The camera pans up to the kid who is also lying in a pool of blood. The screen goes to black and in big white letters ‘TIME TO GET GUNS OFF THE STREETS’.

Everyone just sat for a few seconds and Mary didn’t say a thing.

She waited for a few more seconds before she stood up and asked, “What is the long term message?”

“Private citizens do not need guns,” two of the Board Members said in unison.

She smiled. Precisely what she had hoped they would say.  Hidden in the spot were latent images saying exactly that message: ‘PRIVATE CITIZENS DO NOT NEED GUNS’. It was subliminal advertising and they didn’t even know it.

Another of the members said, “You know. That’s very powerful. You’re right about it conveying the message that people do not need to possess guns of any kind.”

Several others shook their heads in agreement.

“It’s even more effective the second time you see it,” she said and pressed the play button again.

When the spot had finished almost everyone in the room agreed that the message was clear.

“The second one is even more powerful. Watch this,” she said and queued up the second spot.

This one opened with a family sitting down to dinner. The husband was passing a plate of fried chicken to his little girl. Just as she reaches for it, someone knocks on the front door. The husband looks at the wife, she shrugs and starts for the door.

“I’ll go,” he says, and she stops.

The camera cuts back to the table and the kids and mother are passing food. You can hear voices in the background and they are becoming more agitated. Suddenly there is a scuffling noise and you can hear something breaking. The kids and mother all start to get up but the mother stops them and tells them to wait.

Shouting can now be heard and then it gets quiet for a second. Suddenly a gunshot rings out and you can hear someone screaming. The camera cuts to the kid’s faces then to the front room. The husband is holding a shotgun and lying at the bottom of the front porch steps is a man who has been shot in the back.

“What have you done?” the wife asked.

“I was just defending our home,” he replies and looks down at the gun in his hand.

“I don’t know George. I don’t know if the police are going to believe that,” she says. Once again the screen goes blank and then big white letters say, ‘IN THE HEAT OF AN ARGUMENT, LIVES CAN BE LOST...NO MORE GUNS’.

Once again she waited. Finally several said at almost the same time “We need to change the 2nd Amendment.” Perfect.  Exactly what the hidden message said.

Mary Stark stood up and said, “Wow. Is that powerful or what? I mean, it hits the nail right on the head. People watching this will surely get the message.”

“We certainly think so,” Mary replied.

“Are you all as impressed as I am?” Connie asked.

Before she could get an answer, the floor suddenly erupted upward and a huge explosion could be heard all over Washington D.C. The building seemed to rise off the ground before crashing down into a smoldering pile of rubble. Fire sprang up in several places and glass and bricks rained down on the cars passing by. Several people on the street were hurt by flying glass and chunks of bricks.

People were screaming and running in all directions.  Smoke filled the air and only two walls of the once solid building remained standing. Within minutes help began arriving and sirens could be heard all over the city as they rushed to the scene of the explosion.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Secretary of State, Hanna Cole, was waiting for the clapping to subside before she spoke. Once it died down she adjusted the microphone and looked out over the UN delegates.

“Distinguished members, it is a privilege to have this opportunity to address you on one of the most important perils facing the world, weapons in the hands of private individuals. The Small Arms Treaty is not something we should do; it is something we must do. As a representative of the United States of America I am pledging our support for this important treaty. The President of the United States has assured me that we will work hand and hand with the other nations in this endeavor.

We have already started work on the legal aspects of firearm ownership in America.  Over the next few months, we will be starting a rigorous campaign to educate our citizens regarding the importance of eliminating guns from private individuals.

No President has been more supportive of the Small Arms Treaty than President Ouasim. His administration is determined to do whatever is necessary to ensure that Congress will ratify the treaty.”

She droned on for the next ten minutes without really saying anything new. She left to a standing ovation.

***

Supreme Court Judge Glenda Foley was sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of tea and reading the latest Law Review.  Scattered on the credenza behind her were copies of major cities' newspapers. Monday was her private day, the day she set aside to get caught up on reading and reviewing upcoming trials. At eighty-six she still had smooth skin and kept herself in pretty good physical condition by doing exercises in the swimming pool five days a week. Her once blond hair was now gray but it added a distinguished look. Her blue eyes were still bright and clear.

The Sims vs. The United States was not only complex but compelling as she had very strong feelings regarding wounded veterans. Her own husband had lost his right leg and three of his fingers to a ‘bouncing betty’ mine in Vietnam.

She was reaching for her cup of tea when there was a light knock on her door.  That was unusual because everyone knew that Monday was not the time to intrude on the Honorable Glenda Foley. She set her cup down and sighed.

“Yes?” she finally said.

“Judge Foley, its Ralph Larson. May I have a few minutes?” he said through the door.

“Alright Ralph,” she said a bit gruffly.

Ralph stepped into Foley’s inner sanctum. He always felt like he was going before the Spanish Inquisition whenever he came to the Supreme Court Building.

“I really appreciate your taking the time to see me,” he said, easing into a soft leather chair. It was so soft he felt like he wasn’t going to stop until his butt hit the floor.

“Counselor Larson. To what do I owe this unexpected  pleasure?” she said, taking a sip of her tea. It was cold and she set it back down.

“The Sims case. I want to brief the President on where we are going. He seems to have taken an interest in it.”

“You know Counselor, for a brilliant attorney, you are one very bad liar. I can smell a scam a mile away. Since this is my day, I would appreciate it if you would cut through the crap and tell me what you really were sent to do,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

Ralph’s eyebrows shot up. This old broad was as sharp as ever. He would have to be very careful.

“Alright. The Small Arms Treaty. As you know the UN is pressing the US to support it. The President has given his word that the US will work with them in ensuring that it is adopted by our Congress. Of course you know all of that.  What I want to know is how does the Supreme Court view the US adopting the treaty? Does it violate the 2nd and 10th Amendments?”

“Ah, yes. I heard the Secretary of State's speech to the UN General Assembly. It sounds like the deal has already been struck. So now that the horse is out, you want to make sure you can close the barn door.”

“Well...”

“Typical. I can’t speak for the other Justices but then you already know that. I doubt that you intend to talk to each of them individually so here we are right back where we started only this time my day is a little shorter. What do you want Ralph?”

Once again he was shocked at how quickly she saw through his veneer. He couldn’t just ask, ‘You old hag, when are you going to retire’.

“Alright. The President wants to know your future plans.”

“Future plans? You mean am I going to step down anytime soon?”

“Well…yes, your retirement plans.”

“You can tell the President that I have no plans to retire while he is currently in office. I can see what he is trying to do. He wants to make sure all Supreme Court decisions go his way. That’s not the way the system operates. We are a separate branch because the Constitution so deemed it. The President and his administration want to change the 2nd Amendment and one more judge in his corner would assure victory. That is not going to happen. You can tell the President that the Honorable Supreme Court Justice Foley intends to stay and will continue to safeguard the Constitution as it is written. Now, anything else Counselor?”

“Justice Foley the President is not trying to stack the Supreme Court. He was just trying to figure out if he needed to start vetting other candidates in case you intended to retire.  Nothing more.”

Foley didn’t say anything, she just looked at him.

“You don’t believe that?” Ralph asked at last.

“Not for one minute. Now I would like to enjoy the rest of my day if you don’t mind,” she said standing.

“I don’t want us to part this way. It is never good to have divisiveness between branches of the government,” he said starting toward the door.

“I disagree. It is very healthy. That’s why the founders set it up that way. Good day, Counselor,” she said as she opened the door for him.

He didn’t say another word. What could he say?

CHAPTER SIX

As Larson was walking back to the White House trying to clear his head he heard a huge explosion. Smoke billowed and he could see debris and rubble filling the air. The shock wave hit him with enough force to cause him to stagger. He leaned out and put his hand on a bus stop sign to keep from falling.

Good God, he thought, what the hell happened? Please, not another terrorist attack. He started running toward the area where the blast had originated.

Winded, he turned the corner and saw that a building was in flames and most of it was reduced to a huge pile of rubble. Only two partial walls remained precariously standing. People were lying on the sidewalk and in the street, many bleeding. Others were obviously in shock. Two cars were on fire and several others were smashed almost flat by the falling wreckage.

He stood with his mouth open trying to decide what to do first. Finally he ran over to a woman lying on the sidewalk. She was covered with dust, bricks and broken glass. He removed as much as he could and felt for a pulse.  She was dead. He moved on to another woman. She was still clutching a small child in her arms. She was alive but obviously in serious condition. The child wasn’t breathing.  He carefully removed the child from her arms and started giving it CPR. He knew he had to use short, shallow breaths.

More and more people began to arrive and soon ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks were on the scene. A pair of EMTs came by and relieved him of the child. Another EMT went to work on the mother.

He stood up and looked around. He had never been in a war zone but this is what he imagined it would look like.  People injured and dead, trees stripped of leave, cars on fire and crushed. What in the hell could have caused so much damage? It had to have been a terrorist attack, nothing else made sense. Made sense? When does a terrorist attack make sense? Even if it was a natural disaster, it was still a disaster. People had lost their lives.

He looked down at his clothes. His pants were filthy and he had blood on his shirt and tie. Dust covered his entire body. Looking around he realized that there was little he could do. The professionals were on the scene and were trying to get the remaining civilians pushed back so they could tackle the spreading fire.

Ralph slowly started walking toward the White House. He wondered what building it had been. The location seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, a lot of people died in there.

***

“Oh my God. What happened to you Mr. Larson,” the guard at the White House said when he saw him approaching the barricade.

“I don’t know. There was an explosion of some kind, over on Eye Street. It took out the whole building. I can’t believe the destruction. People are dead and injured all over the place,” he told her.

“We heard a big boom but that’s all. You mean someone deliberately blew up a building?”

“Seems that way.”

Once he was inside people stared at him as he walked down the hall.

“Oh my God. Was it a terrorist attack?” his secretary asked when he got to his office.’

“I don’t really know Helen. All I know is when I got there hardly anything was left of the building.”

“Eye Street? Something important is located on Eye but I can’t think of it at the moment. Have you told the President yet?”

“Helen. Do I look like I’ve seen him yet?”

“Mr. Larson, you should call him now. He needs to know.”

“Alright Helen. I was going to change first and then go over but I guess I should inform him now,” he said pulling out his cell phone.

The number he pushed on his speed dial went directly to the President's Chief of Staff. The phone only rang once before it was answered.

“This is Sarah. What’s up Ralph?”

“There has been a huge explosion over on Eye Street. The whole building is practically gone. Lots of causalities.  You need to let the President know. I just got back from there and it’s bad. Real bad.”

“Oh Christ. Terrorists?”

“Don’t know. Just a lot of destruction.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Shaken but otherwise fine. I need to change out of these clothes and wash up before I come over.”

“I’ll go tell the President. We heard a loud explosion but no one gave it much thought.”

“You go tell him and I will get cleaned up.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” she said as she hung up.

This was not going to make the President's day. She headed to the Oval Office. It had already been a stressful day and this was only going to make it worse.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Did you hear that? Someone blew up the HCI building in D.C.,” the caller said.

“No way.”

“Turn on the television. They are airing a live report.”

Bob grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. A few seconds later he could see a destroyed building behind some talking head.  He turned up the sound.

“So far the number of deceased is still unknown. It may be a few days before they know how many were killed and wounded. Sniffer dogs are being brought in but until all the hot spots are put out, the fire department won’t allow anyone to enter the area. We haven’t been able to locate a spokesperson for the HCI which is located in this building.”

“Barbra, has anyone taken responsibility for this act yet?” the anchor asked.

“So far it has not been determined that this is an act of terror.  The firefighters told me that until they could bring in the investigators there was no way of telling if this was a natural disaster or an act of terrorism.”

“But that’s the way it appears now doesn’t it? Some pro-gun group or other militant group?”

“Sorry, they won’t know until after the investigation is complete. Right now there is no way of telling just what caused the explosion,” Barbra said.

The anchor looked into the camera.

“Well if it was an act of terrorism it couldn’t have come at a worse time for the Administration. With talks bogged down on the Small Arms Treaty at the UN and Congress showing little support for the treaty it is a difficult time.  If that wasn’t enough, the new unemployment figures released today show a large jump across much of the nation.  The latest figures show that unemployment rose to 9.9 percent. That's up from last month’s 9.1 percent.

In other news...”

Bob muted the sound.

“Damn. This isn’t good. The media will be looking to blame it on pro-gun groups. That jackass anchor was already hinting that it was the work of pro-gunners,” he said.

“Tell me about it. That prick was determined to slip the message out that some radical pro-gun group was responsible.”

“I think we should call an emergency meeting. Tonight if at all possible. We want to make sure our people know what to say.  We don’t need someone spouting off. Let’s get the phone tree started.”

“You got it. I’ll call my five names while you are doing the same.  What time and where?”

“Six thirty at the clubhouse.”

“Okay,” the man said and hung up.

Bob walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. He opened it and took a big swallow. He almost spit it out. It just didn’t taste good right at this moment.  He pulled out his cell phone and began calling the five members on his tree.

***

The Shaw Valley Gun Club was located on a twenty-five acre tract of land just outside of Lawrenceburg, Kentucky.  One hundred and seventy-eight of the two hundred and sixty-five members were in attendance which was remarkable for such short notice.

The new clubhouse, built just last year, was already being outgrown by the number of new members. Bob looked around and realized that almost one third of those present were women.

“Okay. Okay. I know you didn’t have much notice but we just felt that we all needed to be prepared for what may be coming our way. As you know, the Handgun Control Incorporated building was blown up earlier today.  According to the latest reports ninety-seven are confirmed dead.  Of course that number is expected to continue to climb as they dig through the rubble.  Over two hundred are reported injured with seventeen of those in critical condition.”

“What does that have to do with us?” someone near the back shouted out.

“Hold your horses for crying out loud,” Bob said.

There is always that one guy that has to start shouting out stupid questions.

“I have been talking to several other gun clubs. Some as far away as Florida and Texas. Everyone is pretty unnerved by this latest event. Obviously that building was targeted and that is the problem. With the current administration trying to take away our second amendment rights, this does not help. If anything, it gives the anti-gun crowd a leg up. You know how the media works. The administration will use this to gain sympathy for their cause.”

“Bob,” a lady in the front row said, waving her hand.

“Yes?”

“Has anyone taken responsibility for the bombing?”

“Not so far. I doubt that they will but it doesn’t matter. The press will start to shift the blame to the pro-gun groups. The administration will feed them their usual pack of lies and off they will go.”

“Still.  They can’t prove it.”

“You’re missing the point. They don’t have to. All they have to do is point the finger and then we are automatically on the defensive. The real crux of our problem is that the administration is pushing for the Small Arms Treaty at the UN. They are attacking the pro-gun people on every front. They churn out false statistics that the media plays up. In short, the deck is stacked against us. When you put all of this together along with the amount of new restrictions the government wants to initiate on gun manufacturing and ammunition we are close to losing our second amendment rights.”

“We can fight it in the courts.”

“Can we?  How much money do you think it will take? What does it cost them? I’ll tell you. Nothing. They are using our tax dollars that we pay in to fight us. They have unlimited resources and they know it. I’m telling you, this administration is out to damage this country like no other before,” Bob said.

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I just want you to all be aware of how close we are to losing our rights. Here’s the thing. Each of us in this room and in others just like it are going to have to make some real hard choices soon. As I see it we have several choices,” he said pulling a cover off a white board.

“Here they are. I’ve left room for other suggestions while we talk,” he said. “I’ll just go down them. One, we do nothing and hope for the best. Two, we contact as many other groups as we can and see where they stand.  Three, we turn in our guns and ammunition when the government demands.  Four, we stock-pile ammunition and hide it. Same for guns. Five, we leave the country and live someplace else. Six, we join a militia and follow their lead. Seven, we can find some place to hide. They will come looking for all of us. That’s why they want all guns registered. They know what you have and where you live. If you hide, you are going to have to change your name and drop out of your circle of family and friends. They will be hell bent on finding everyone on their list.”

“What if we just refuse to comply?”

“I’m pretty sure that will not be an option. You will be arrested and tried under some new law they are sure to enact.”

“They are not going to force me to give up my rights. If we do that, what’s to stop them from doing away with freedom of speech? Will we start being arrested for saying something about the government that they don’t like?”

“Well, usually that is the next step. Then assembly without permission will be disallowed. That’s how police states are formed. It follows the same pattern everywhere the government wants to have total control over the citizens,” Bob replied.

“We’re talking about the end of our freedom.”

“There you have it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“What do you mean she won’t retire as long as this administration is in power?” Hanna said, her voice rising.

“I’m just telling you what she said. She knows what we are trying to do. She said she would not allow us to load the Supreme Court in the administration's favor so you could rewrite the second amendment.”

“Damn it. Who the hell does she think she is?  She should never have been appointed in the first place.”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s a moot point.”

“She’s healthy?”

“Looks remarkable for an eighty-six year old woman.”

“Crap,” Hanna said, sitting back in her chair.

Her hands were pressed together at the finger tips, making a little steeple. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to think of a solution to this annoying problem. She turned and faced out the window.  From her office she could see the monument.

After a few minutes she turned back around.

“I may have a solution. I need to see Adam,” she said and picked up the phone.

“Is this something I don’t want to know about?” Ralph asked.

“It would probably be better if you didn’t,” she said and pressed the last number.

“Hi Adam. Listen, I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I would like to come over and talk to you about a problem that needs your expertise.”

“Uh...yes…that would be just great. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you for making the time,” she said and hung up.

“I’ve thought about it some more. It would definitely be better for you not to be involved,” Hanna said, standing up as a way of letting him know he was dismissed.

***

“Mr. President, it isn’t that much of a stretch. We know one of the pro-gun groups had to have caused the explosion.  Who else would take out the HCI building?”

“I understand Ms. Cole but we need proof. No one has claimed responsibility for the bombing. What group do we point the finger at?”

“You’re missing the point. We don’t have to point the finger at any one specific group.  All we have to do is let it out that it was a radical pro-gun group. The media and public opinion will take care of the rest of it.”

“Ralph?”

“Well, Ms. Cole is oversimplifying it. The media will want a firm name to hang this on but if we can find the responsible party, the media will certainly be on our side.”

“Then let’s give them a name.”

“Who?” the President asked.

“We just pick one. Hell it can be made up for all that matters. We can say it is a radical underground group and give them a fictitious name. We can say that Homeland Security has had rumors of such a group but haven’t been able to infiltrate them with any success,” Hanna said.

“Listen to yourself. Are you so obsessed with this that you can’t see the problems that could bring the administration? If the press ever found out we made that up with no proof they would rip us apart. No, we are definitely not going to do that,” the President said.

“Then you need to turn up the heat on the FBI and Homeland to find out just who did do this,” she replied.

The President just looked at her but she refused to break eye contact. She wasn’t about to back down when they had a golden opportunity like this at hand.

Finally the President said, “Ralph, Sarah. Would you mind stepping out for a minute? I would like to speak with Ms. Cole privately.”

“Yes sir,” Ralph said and Sarah nodded that she understood. They left by the side door of the Oval office.

The President tapped his pen on the ink pad for several seconds before he finally spoke.

“Ms. Cole. I understand your passion. I know what you want to accomplish. We all do but we are not going to put ourselves in a position to get caught up in a big lie. I simply will not stand for it. Perhaps at the last meeting I didn’t make myself clear enough so let me put this as clearly as I can. If you ever talk down to my people or disrespect this office again, I will strip you of your position as Secretary of State. That Ms. Cole is not a threat.  It is a simple fact.

Now I will tell you what you are going to do and you had better not balk. You are going to make a tour of our Middle Eastern Embassies. You will visit each and every one. The purpose will be to assess the security of each embassy.  That is the cover story that will be issued,” he said, standing and coming from behind his desk.

“If I may ask, what about my current agenda? I have several functions that are the duty of the Secretary of State to attend.”

“We will have a cover story released to the press stating that we have creditable information that terrorists intend to attack one of our facilities. Their safety must take precedence.”

“And you honestly think they will believe that?”

“It doesn’t matter Ms. Cole.”

“It does to me,” she said.

He looked at her for several moments before he finally said, “Ms. Cole. Air Force two will be ready to depart at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You will either be on that plane or I will expect to see your letter of resignation on my desk. Now, this has taken quite enough of my time. You are dismissed Ms. Cole.”

He could almost feel the hatred as she looked at him before standing, gathering her briefcase, and turning to leave.

“I will have to give this some thought,” was all she said.

“You have until nine o’clock tomorrow. Oh, and please have Clarke and Sarah come back in as you leave.”

“Yes sir, Mr. President, sir,” she said as she headed for the door.

All he could do was shake his head. God, he hated that woman.

CHAPTER NINE

Twenty-six men stood or sat in a cabin, deep in the woods of North Carolina. Each of them had taken every precaution to make sure they had not been followed. They knew that the FBI kept them under constant surveillance.

As leaders of their respective militia groups, they had been spied on for years and were used to it. This meeting was so important that they had taken even more precautions than normal.

“Thank you all for coming. I know how difficult it was for you to get here undetected but unfortunately the current situation warrants the risk,” the spokesman said.

He was just a little over six foot two with short gray hair and steel gray eyes. His age was hard to guess because of his tanned skin. His face wasn’t as wrinkled as you would expect of someone who obviously spent a great deal of time outdoors. His demeanor projected confidence and an ease at being in command. He was wearing khaki pants, a tan polo shirt and loafers. Even dressed as he was, it was obvious to the others that he was ex-military.

“My name is Craig Hawkins. I am the commander of the First Regiment Militia of Alabama. As most of you have probably guessed, my background is mostly military. I did a stint with the FBI for a few years but...well, let’s just leave it at that,” he said.

Several people chuckled and others shook their heads knowingly.

“I also understand your curiosity as to why I would ask you to come here, especially knowing that you are under constant surveillance. Obviously I feel that there is a pretty good reason. I guess there damn sure had better be or I’m going to be standing in front of twenty-six pretty pissed off people.”

Again a laugh and head shaking took place. While the subject matter was serious, Hawkins always felt a little levity would help break the tension.

“Okay, to the heart of the matter. A few days ago I was informed by a very well placed person that the current administration has been working on a three pronged plan to change the content of the second amendment. That in itself is probably not big news to most of you.  What you probably don’t realize is how far they are willing to go,” he said, pausing to let it sink in.

“Phase one is an all-out blitz to brainwash the American people. By that I mean, using the print and electronic media as propaganda to instill fear. I know, I know, what’s new about that? They have hired two companies to create subliminal messages to flash during television commercials.”

A quick murmur ran through the audience.

“Yes, it is illegal. No, they do not care. One group was eliminated when the HCI building blew up. As fate would have it, they happened to be there along with most of the board of directors when someone blew up the place. That, however, is not the end of it. New Age Media was competing with the other group and have produced their own advertisements with subliminal messages embedded. I’ll come back to that in a moment.”

Several people shot up hands, wanting to ask questions but he ignored them.

“Phase two is to stack the Supreme Court in favor of the administration. As it stands right now, all they need is to replace one chief justice and they will be able to control the Supreme Court. Only Judge Foley stands in their way,” he said, taking a drink of water.

Again he waited for that part to sink in. He had used the same technique many times. You had to let people think about things and mull it over in their minds before going on.

“Phase three is to have the military, FBI, ATF, and every other federal agency to sweep in and confiscate the fire arms of individual citizens. Obviously that includes militias as well. The thinking is that even if it is illegal, they will have the guns and can destroy them before the people can get an injunction to stop them. It would work too. They have the registration records of gun owners, lists of members of gun clubs, and files on your militia members. They intend to sweep in and confiscate them during the night.”

The place erupted in angry shouts of indignation.  Hawkins just waited. He knew they needed to express outrage. This was America after all, not Russia or some third world country where citizen's rights were abolished overnight. After it had settled down some he started up again.

“I can tell you for a fact that that is the plan. My source is very highly placed. This is not just a threat but a reality. The timeframe hasn’t been set but certain individuals on the administration's inner counsel are aggressively pushing the agenda forward.”

“What are you suggesting?” one of the men spoke up.

“Actually, I am suggesting nothing. I am simply giving you the information. Wait. I take that back. I guess I am suggesting that we openly discuss what, if anything, we intend to do. Some of you may want to just walk out of here and do nothing. Others will want to overreact and try to take on the government alone. Neither of those will work. This is far too big for one group to handle. I’m sure the administration would consider what I am saying to be treason. Well then, there it is. What the Continental Army did during the revolutionary war and the South attempted to do during the Civil War was considered treason. If that is the case, then so be it.”

“Are you saying we need to try to overthrow the government?”

He didn’t answer for several seconds. It became very quiet in the room.

Choosing his words carefully he answered, “That is something that I alone cannot decide. I wouldn’t presume to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. What I do know is that a militia’s job is to protect the rights of Americans.  It is not to play solider in the woods and have meetings that are just talk. To me a militia is a means by which the Constitution of the United States assures that no government could suspend our most basic freedoms.  Protecting the rights spelled out clearly in the Constitution is the sole purpose of a well-regulated militia.”

The shuffling of feet and a few creaking chairs was all that could be heard.

“Just to make sure I understand. What we are talking about is resisting the military, and other government officials if they try to eliminate our second amendment rights?”

“I would respectfully suggest that that is what you all need to discuss and come to a consensus about. I already know what my people are going to do,” Hawkins said.

“I can’t do that without talking to my people,” one of the men spoke up.

“As it should be. However, you need to be in agreement as to what action your militia is going to follow before it is too late.  The clock is ticking for all of us.”

“What is our next step?”

“As you said. Go talk to your people. Keep in mind that you have spies in your groups. Don’t delude yourselves into thinking that you don’t. Talk in generalities and do not mention the information you now have and that you have attended this meeting. If you do, the Feds will sweep in and that will be end of your group.”

“Then what?”

“I suggest another meeting. I will contact you thirty days from now and set a time and place.  If you come, you are interested in learning the next part of the plan. If you don’t then you go your own way.”

“I mean no disrespect; but how do we know you aren’t still working for the FBI or the government?”

Hawkins didn’t answer. He just pulled on his lower lip for a few seconds.

“I guess you don’t,” he finally said and left it at that.

CHAPTER TEN

“Is everything in place,” Hanna Cole asked.

She looked around to make sure no one was listening. A public phone was the only thing that she felt was secure enough to use.

“We’re ready on our end.  Once you give the word there is no turning back. My people will not stop until the mission is accomplished. You understand that don’t you?.”

“Of course,” she said irritably, “I’m the one that set this up so all you have to do is your job.”

“When I see the money in my account.”

“That is the least of my worries.”

“But not mine.”

“Fine. It will be transferred to your account by five o’clock tomorrow. That will be the signal for you to proceed. I will not talk to you again.”

“Understood,” the man said and hung up.

Cole stood there another minute, acting like she was still talking while looking around the terminal. No one was showing the least bit of interest in her, other than her staff that was hovering nearby. Satisfied she hung up the phone and walked over to her people.

“Is everyone aboard?” she asked.

“Hennery is in the restroom, everyone else is ready,” Brenda Young, her personal secretary reported.

“Then let’s get aboard. We go in ten minutes with or without Hennery,” she said starting toward Air Force Two.

As much as it galled her, she knew she had to make the trip as the President had ordered. If she resigned she would no longer be involved in the decision process and that she simply couldn’t have. Actually, she thought, it will actually help if I am out of the country. No one would be able to point a finger at her. She smiled as she realized the bastard had given her the perfect alibi. She stepped more lively to the waiting plane.

***

“She decided to go?” Sarah, his Chief of Staff asked.

“Apparently so. Air Force Two reported that her people had shown up in force at the hanger.”

“Well, that’s one way of getting her out of our hair for the time being.”

“Unfortunately it’s only temporary.”

“Still, it’s better than nothing,” Sarah replied.

“Right you are. Okay, the commercials are ready to run?” he asked, switching gears.

“Yes sir. They start tonight. They will air three times during the Emmy Awards. The other major channels will be blocked as well so no matter if the home viewers switch channels they will still see them.”

“Roland?”

“We have been talking to every base commander of any size. We have told them just the very basics of what would be required of them. Most understood. A few didn’t seem concerned one way or the other. Only four or five really questioned the legality of what we were going to do.”

“You have the names of those commanders?” the President asked.

“Yes sir,” he said, sliding a paper across the desk. The President quickly scanned the list and then laid it back down.

“And how are you going to handle them?”

“We will have our own men on base when the time comes with orders from your office to relieve them of command unless they comply.”

“Do you think that will really work?”

“Well, I don’t see why not. You're the Commander-in-Chief. They will have to abide by a direct written order from you.”

The President rubbed his chin, “Alright if you’re absolutely comfortable with that.”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“Okay, what else?”

“The mayors of cities with more than 100,000 have been contacted and given their marching orders when directed by your office.”

“Lord. How many cities was that?”

“Over two hundred and seventy-five, sir.”

“You have been busy.”

“We didn’t stop there. Most Sheriff's offices in larger counties have been alerted as well. A lot of fire power resides in country settings. We need to round up as many of those as we can,” Roland replied.

“Then what? Once you have the weapons and ammunition?”

“We will destroy them immediately. We will fight it out in court later but the damage will have already been done.  Hopefully you will have the Small Arms Treaty signed and be pressing congress to act on accepting it.”

“That will be done. As long as it is before Congress I feel we can go ahead with the confiscation. Like you said, we can sort it out in court later. You just make damn sure the weapons are destroyed.”

“We have it all worked out,” Roland assured him.

“Noel, you have the changes ready that will redefine the second amendment?”

“Almost sir. Just tweaking a few more words so that nothing slips through the cracks.”

“There damn sure had better not be anything slipping through any cracks. Not with the risks we are taking.”

“It won’t. That’s why we are being so cautious.”

“Good. No screw-ups at this point,” the President replied.

***

NEW YORK TIMES: WHITE RIDGE MILITIA RESPONSIBLE FOR BOMBING

“A high ranking official divulged that the FBI has determined that a group calling themselves the White Ridge Militia were responsible for the bombing of the Handgun Control Building in Washington D.C. last week. Over one hundred and eight people perished when the building exploded.

“This was a direct and cowardly act carried out by American terrorists,” the source is quoted as saying.

"Recovery of security tapes shows a white van with several people inside talking to a guard before finally being permitted to enter. Immediately the group unloaded from the van and took the elevator up to the main level."

“When Homeland Security Director Adam Little was asked to comment he said, “This is a new and dangerous group. We have no records on the White Ridge Militia. We suspect it is a splinter group from various other Militias throughout the country...”

“Damn it Adam. You should have just said no comment. Who the hell is this White Ridge group anyhow,” the President said, throwing down the paper in disgust.

“Sir, they just jumped me. I didn’t know what they were even talking about until they filled me in. I don’t know where the information came from. I just stammered out what I thought was a reasonable answer.”

“Jesus Adam. No comment is the only reasonable answer.  You should know that by now. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.  You’re a damn professional.”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir. I just didn’t think.”

“No more of that crap, understand?”

“Clearly.”

“Who is the high level official they are talking about?  It had better not be Ms. Cole.”

“I don’t know sir. We are trying to find out. We're calling in all markers to see if we can get a line on who it was,” Adam said.

“Dig. I don’t care what it takes. Find out who planted that story. They will be clamoring for a statement from the White House and I need to have something to tell them,” the President said.

“You want Sarah to work on it with Roland and Noel. They are your best bet in coming up with a plausible story,” Adam said, trying to get back in good graces.

“Not a bad idea. Alright, go find out who did this. No more screw-ups.”

“Understood sir.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Mr. President. I hate to disturb you but I think you will want to hear this.”

“What is it Sarah? I’m pretty busy.”

“Chief Justice Foley. She died last night.”

“What? How?”

“Apparently it is being ruled a homicide. Her house was broken into and someone strangled her.”

“Oh my God. Oh heavens. Do they have any leads?”

“Here,” Sarah said, turning on the large TV set.

“Justice Foley’s body was discovered this morning by her maid. Police are still questioning her at this time. According to Captain Sellers she was murdered sometime between midnight and four a.m. Of course they will know more after the autopsy. Justice Foley has been on the Supreme Court for the past twenty-four years and was the most senior member,” the announcer said.

“Do the police have any suspects at this time?” the announcer asked.

It was obvious that they didn’t but he liked to hear himself talk.

“According to Chief Sellers they are currently gathering evidence from the crime scene. He indicated that they had several possible leads.”

“But no actual suspects?”

“Not at this time.”

Turning back to the camera he said, “Stay tuned for more breaking news, including a reaction from the White House.”

“I need to start to work on this immediately,” the President said.

“It’s being taken care of. Kendra is already on it. She will meet with the press in one hour. She is outside and would like to speak with you if you have the time,” Sarah said.

“You bet.  Have her come in.”

The Chief of Staff stuck her head out the door and a few seconds later Kendra Cox, the White House Spokesperson entered. At six foot, with dark brown hair and eyes that looked like they were made of chocolate, she was a very impressive figure.

“Mr. President.”

“Ms. Cox. I understand you are already working on a statement.”

“Yes sir,” she said, handing him a single sheet of paper.

The President read through it quickly and looked up.

“Well done. The only thing I would like you to change is the phrase ‘the President is saddened by this brutal act’.  Change that to ‘deeply saddened.”

“Yes sir. Any other changes?”

“No. I think that will do quite nicely. I like the part about how much I admired her convictions and willingness to hold her ground. That has a nice sincere touch to it.”

“Thank you. Alright. We will hold the press meeting at 10:30, forty minutes from now. If you think of anything else, just have someone contact me,” she said.

“Will do, and thank you for your prompt attention to this tragedy.”

***

“Markham, I want you as lead on this. Understand?”

“Sure Captain but what my other load?”

“I’ll reassign them but for now this is the case I want you to live and breathe.

“Give it my best shot,” Detective Dan Markham replied.

“Look, this isn’t going to be pretty. You know the White House will be pushing on this, which means everyone above you will be poking their nose in this as well. Don’t be surprised if the FBI wants to take over the case. We won’t fight it. Let them have it and we will consider ourselves lucky,” the Captain told him.

“Okay, but I still intend to work it like a homicide, just like I would any other case.”

“Of course. That’s what I want you to do. Just beware, they may want to step in and take over.”

“I have no problem with that,” Markham replied.

Detective Markham went back inside and watched as the Crime Scene Techs went over the bedroom.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Not much. If I had to guess I would say that this wasn’t done by an amateur,” the tech answered.

“Why is that?”

“No hairs, no prints, no material under her nails. Maybe the ME will find something but from our point of view, we got nothing.”

“Sounds like a hit. I wonder why they didn’t just pop her?”

“Maybe the gun wasn’t clean. It could have been used before so they decided on strangling her. Hell who knows what these sick bastards think?”

“I don’t know. Why take the risk of a struggle? I would have just used a ball bat or a gun. Hell even a knife would present less risk.”

“Don’t know. Just the way it is sometimes. Who can figure?”

Just as he was about to leave the ME arrived so he decided to wait around.

“Markham,” the ME said when he saw him standing by the door.

“Dr. Rawson.”

“Have you looked at the body yet?”

“Just from a distance. Didn’t touch her.”

“Good. You want to join me?”

“Sure,” the detective said.

Dr. Rawson was considered one of the best Medical Examiners on the East Coast. He was highly regarded by not only the Metro Police but by the FBI and Homeland Security as well. That in itself was quite a feat.

They made their way to the bedroom and the ME slipped on two pairs of latex gloves. He put on his glasses and gently pulled back the covers. He took the whole picture in before he began his exploring. He slowly went up and down each arm and turned to Markham.

“Look here,” he said pointing to a small puncture just where her rotator cuff was located.

“Looks like a needle mark,” Markham said.

“Maybe. The question is, why in such a strange place?”

“Any guesses?”

“I don’t do guesses my boy, you should know that by now.  Obviously a full toxicology screen will be necessary.”

“Could it have been some kind of knockout drug, to make sure she couldn’t fight back?” he asked.

“That would be a reasonable guess but unfortunately, it is still a guess,” the ME said.

He opened her eyelids and examined her eyes.

“Subconjunctival hemorrhages. Petechiae,” he muttered and continued to examine her.

He felt her throat and said, “Subcutaneous emphysema resulting from a broken larynx.”

“Yeah, I get it. She was strangled.”

He didn’t bother to comment.

“Ecchymosis,” he went on muttering. Finally he said, “You want to help me roll her over?”

“Be delighted,” Markham answered.

The ME went on checking but didn’t find anything else of significance.

“If you are through with the body, I'll have her taken back to the lab and do the autopsy. I’ve been told it is my top priority,” Dr. Rawson said.

“Yeah, there is a lot of that going around,” Markham replied. “Let me know when you are ready to do the autopsy.  I think it’s in my best interest to be there.”

“Very astute my boy, very astute.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The President's inner circle, minus Secretary of State Cole, was seated in the Oval Office.

“You have a list of names for me?” President Quasim asked.

“I do,” the Attorney General said and handed over a list with eight names on it.

“That’s quite a list. I was expecting two or three names.”

“My reasoning is that we can leak it to the press that we are trying to seek the most qualified person. By making it look like we are vetting a large number of candidates, they won’t pick up on the fact that we have only one real person we want in the position.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” the President said.

“That’s what Washington is all about,” Noel replied.

“Are we actually going to interview all of them?”

“I think we have to. It needs to look convincing.  We don’t want a single one of them to say no one looked at them seriously.”

“This will slow us down some.”

“Yes, but it is worth it,” the Attorney General replied.

“You agree?” the President asked, nodding to Ralph Larson, the Counselor to the President.

“I think it is a good plan. If we just try to shove Robert Stein into the Supreme Court, the Senate will fight it tooth and nail. We will have to use the Trojan Horse ruse.  We need to center our efforts on a sacrificial candidate and then ‘settle’ on Stein.”

“Maybe we should have two sacrificial candidates. Make it look like we are getting desperate.

Ralph looked over at Noel and smiled.

“Actually that was our first thought but we figured you wouldn’t want to wait that long so we just revised the plan.”

“I see. Well, surprise, I agree with the two person sacrifice. Yes, it will slow us down, but I think we have a better chance of getting Stein confirmed,” the President replied.

“Excellent. If it is okay with you we want to have a private conversation with Stein. Essentially we’ll tell him to cool it with his liberal views. He needs to be very middle of the road until this is a done deal.”

“I don’t know. I see your point but there is a certain amount of risk with that. If he doesn’t get confirmed for one reason of the other, he might be bitter about it and spill the beans.”

“I think the risk is worth it. Stein is no fool. He doesn’t want to make enemies in the White House. He has too much ambition to burn his bridges,” Noel said.

“Do you agree Ralph?”

“Yes sir, Mr. President, I do.”

He thought for a few seconds and finally said, “Alright, have your talk with him. Make sure no one knows about you meeting with him until after we leak the eight names.”

“No problem sir. We will be very discreet.”

“Okay. Now, here is what I think we should consider doing next…”

***

The confirmation hearings were ugly and hard fought. The first candidate, Judge Albany, an extreme liberal, was shot down almost before the hearings started. The White House put up a fierce battle before finally giving in.

They knew he didn’t stand a chance but it was part of their game plan. The second candidate, Judge Margaret Knight, was certainly less liberal. Nevertheless she was questioned extensively. Once again the White House defended its selection and fought hard. Maybe a bit too hard. She was almost agreed upon but lost by a narrow vote.

The battle had taken its toll by the time the President nominated Robert Stein. As directed, Stein had been keeping a very low profile and making sure his rulings were either center of the road or slightly conservative.

The questions were pointed and it became very confrontational on several occasions, Stein managed to keep his cool and came out better than expected with the Judiciary Committee’s questions. While they finally passed Stein’s nomination on to the full Senate for a vote, it was done without a recommendation. This created extra stress for the White House.

Three weeks later the Senate voted fifty-three to forty-seven to confirm Judge Robert Stein to the United States Supreme Court. It couldn’t have come at a better time for the administration. The latest unemployment figures were showing a 1.1 percent increase, up to 11.4 percent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, inflation rose 2.1 percent during the same period. Stein's conformation was the one bright spot that the President could boast about.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Financial News Report - Monday, August 12. The stock market nearly panicked today as a massive sell-off of stocks began just after the opening bell of Wall Street when it was learned that the Consumer Confidence Index released by the Conference Board had fallen another 3.7% to a new low of 56.5%. That, along with the latest unemployment figures now approaching 13.5%, was the triggering mechanism. The Dow fell 21.1% before the officials invoked the so called ‘circuit breaker rule’ which suspends trading for the day. The DJIA ended down 505 points.

The circuit breaker rule was implemented to let investors cool off and rethink their investment strategy.....

***

“Does anyone have any good news?” the President asked looking around at the gloomy faces.

“Robert Stein was sworn in yesterday.”

“Well duh. Old news, Ralph.”

“Sorry. Just trying to help.”

“Then find me come current good news. Is China’s economic situation getting any better?”

He waited but no one spoke up.

“I’ll take that as a no. The EURO?”

“Struggling. Not looking very good in the long run.  Spain, Greece, Finland, and Italy are all experiencing an economic meltdown,” Ralph Larson reported.

“That’s just great. Ms. Cole, you said that several of our Embassies are in need of a lot of security upgrades.  In your opinion, which are the neediest?”

“Albania, Cyprus, Romania and Syria.  The one in Damascus is the worst of all. It would take hardly anything to breach the Embassy. The Ambassador is very concerned, as well he should be. We have deferred upgrades for over six years now.   In Syria, longer than that. It wouldn’t take much for us to have a real situation on our hands.”

“Son of a...” the President started to say and changed in mid-sentence, “buck.” Our budget is already out of control.  We are at a point where we can’t borrow any more. All we can do is print more money and get it into circulation.”

“We really can’t afford to do that either. With inflation starting to hit 12 percent, we can’t just print more money,” Cole said.

“Then what can we do? Shift the money from the military?”

“That isn’t a good idea. We are going to need them badly when we start the gun confiscation campaign. Without them we simply won’t have enough feet on the ground to get the job done,” Cole reminded him.

“Damn catch-22.”

“So it would seem,” she said.

She was enjoying watching the President squirm. Served the asshole right, she thought.

“Sir, I hate to bring this up but after today’s market performance it is looking pretty bad for the administration. Unless Wall Street comes out strong tomorrow we could find ourselves in quite a pickle.  Another run like today could cause us to spin into a deep recession,” Ralph said.

“Depression is more like it,” Cole added.

The president laid his head back on his chair and closed his eyes. This could get very ugly fast he thought. Finally he opened his eyes.

“How quickly could we get the military and other agencies ready to confiscate guns? Think of the situation we would be in if private individuals were armed to the teeth and we did slip into a depression. There could be bloodshed in our cities' streets.”

“At one time I would have said we could do it almost immediately. That opportunity has slipped by. Now I don’t see how we could do it in less than three to four weeks,” Cole said, trying her best not to smile.

The President didn’t take the bait. He remained stoic.

“In three weeks our streets could look like a war zone,” was all he said.

***

Financial News Report - Tuesday, August 13, - Wall Street made a modest recovery today. While it certainly wasn’t enough to wipe out Monday's losses, it at least demonstrated some gain, finishing up 29 points after a hectic day of ups and downs.

The opening bell saw another start of a sell off but by noon it had slowed down and started to climb marginally.  While better than yesterday, it was not what Wall Street was hoping for. The President will be holding a news briefing on the economic situation at 8:00 p.m., on Thursday, August 15, on all major network stations.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Mr. President, Vice President Jason would like a few minutes of your time.”

President Quasim closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk to the VP. The man was a dullard and tedious at best.

“Alright. I can give him ten minutes.”

“I’ll send him in.”

James Jason was tall with thinning gray hair. His nose seemed too small for his face. To the President he looked malnourished. His most striking feature was his piercing gray eyes. They seemed to bore right through you. The President stood and walked around to shake his hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you James.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time.”

“Always a pleasure. Please have a seat,” the President said sitting down on the couch.

It was his favorite place to sit when he wanted it to seem like he was really interested in what his guest had to say.

“So James, what do you want to talk about?”

“A couple of things really. The first is this gun confiscation plan. I can’t help but think it is not the best thing we could do at the moment. The administration’s approval rating is down again to thirty-six percent.  That’s a six percent drop in just the last month. With the economy, national debt, and Wall Street flagging, I wonder if we should just hold off on this.”

The president put on his concerned face, like he was really taking what the VP had said under advisement.

After a few seconds he said, “I agree things could be better but we are always going to have something crop up.  Everything is in place and while I agree the economy and other factors need to approve, I really don’t want to take a chance on a general uprising. Think what it would mean if the people become hostile enough to try to use force. Can you imagine the carnage that could occur?”

“I do see your point but if you try to circumvent the second amendment all hell could break out and then what would happen? Are you willing to order the military to fire on American citizens?”

“Of course not. That would never happen. We would simply make it illegal to own hand guns or rifles that have a magazine of any kind. We intent to tax ammunition like we do cigarettes. We will make them cost prohibitive and eventually put the gun and ammunition factories out of business.”

“You do realize you are talking about ending over one and a half million jobs? Think about that. One and a half million. What do you think that will do to people?  Unemployment is already reaching epidemic proportions and then dumping another million or so people in on top of that is frightening,” the VP said.

“You're oversimplifying it. They won’t all close at once and besides they will still have the military contracts.  We’re just talking about the private sector.”

“Mr. President, do you remember the eighteenth amendment?  It seemed like a good idea at the time but looked what happen. Crime was rampant. Prohibition did not slow down the consumption of alcohol, it actually increased. There were more bars in New York City during prohibition than before it was enacted. Our Constitution is what the country was founded on. People don’t take too kindly to those that try to take away those freedoms,” Jason said.

“I appreciate your concerns, really I do but the second amendment is outdated today. No one could have foreseen the type of weapons we have now. We’re not outlawing militias or certain kinds of guns, just the really dangerous ones.”

“Sir, I don’t think you have an accurate reading on what the American people are considering an infringement of their rights.”

“The government determines their rights,” the President shot back.

“You are wrong Sir. The Constitution determines their rights. It always has and always will as long as this is a democracy.”

“James, I really don’t want to discuss this anymore. The decision has been made. I know you think you are speaking for the people but I speak for the government. I say they go.  Now, I really have to go. I have other appointments I have moved so I could give you time. We can continue this another time,” the President said, standing.

It was obvious that the meeting was over.

James shook his hand and said, “There will be bloodshed over this, you mark my words.”

“Duly noted. Thanks for stopping by,” the President said ushering him to the door.

He went back to his desk and dropped down into his chair.  He slammed his hand down hard enough to make this pen jump out of its holder. Damn that man. The eighteenth amendment.  That was back in the 30s. Today it is different. We can enforce it this time, he thought.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bob Toner, president of the Shaw Valley Gun Club sat drinking his coffee, waiting for everyone to find a seat.  He was surprised by the turnout. The last time they had twenty-six militia leaders show up for the meeting.  This time he quit counting at forty-five. The room was packed and almost overflowing.

He finished his coffee, tossed the cup in the trash can, stood up and walked to the podium.

“Well, I have to admit I didn’t quite expect this many to show up. Sorry some of you have to stand in the back.  Those of you who attended the first meeting were told of a secret plan by the White House to make a lightning raid on homes that have registered weapons. I assume from the increase in number of participants tonight that that isn’t something that sat too well with many of you.”

A murmur of agreement echoed throughout the room. Most were nodding their heads in agreement as well.

“As I told you at the last meeting, we are fortunate to have someone within the White House who is keeping us abreast of what the administration is planning. I have heard from this individual again on two separate occasions.  The news is disturbing, to say the least,” Bob said, pausing and taking a drink from a bottle of water.

“Here is what we know for now. The administration is planning to execute a Gestapo type, middle of the night raid.  With the combined efforts of the military, police, homeland security, FBI, ATF and any other government agencies they can throw into the fray, they will stage a raid on private individual’s homes. They intend to confiscate all weapons, legal or otherwise.  Anyone with illegal weapons will be arrested and taken to jail. Your ammunition will be confiscated as well,” he said looking out at the audience.

He could see the surprise and anger on many of the faces.  This was America not Nazi Germany.

“I know, I know. They can’t really expect to carry this off but think about it. Even if it is illegal they will still have the guns and can destroy them before we can stop them.  Getting an injunction will take too long.”

People were muttering and whispering to one another.  He waited, knowing they were trying to digest the real meaning of what he had just said. A few minutes later a hand shot up near the back of the room.

“Yes, you are?”

“Jerry McEnroe, Georgia 2nd Battalion Militia.”

“Alright Jerry, what’s your question?”

“It’s not a question but more of a statement of fact. If they come after me or my people's guns they are going to run into a hell of a fight.”

People clapped and hooted. Bob just stood there, saying nothing. A few more hands shot up but he ignored them.

“Jerry,” he said softly.

Everyone hushed up, trying to hear what he was going to say.

“Don’t you think they already know that? Do you honestly think you can just shoot it out with them and walk away? I admire your spirit but not your tactical planning. They know everything about your group, probably down to the last bullet. They may even have someone inside your organization...”

“No way. That can never happen,” Jerry yelled out.

“Why is that? Do you know each and every member? Where they came from? What their background is? You have no one asking a few more questions now than ever before? I can tell you we have. One of my most trusted men is feeding information to the ATF. We found out about it so we have been using misinformation to mislead them. Still it was a hell of a shock and let down when we stumbled on to him. Hell, we're just a gun club. You guys are in a militia. You honestly think they haven’t infiltrated?”

It was totally quiet in the room.

“Here is what I am saying. Even if you don’t have someone in your organization, fighting skirmishes with the government will not keep you from losing your guns. The only way is to unite. Not just the people in this room, but every gun owner. We need to be prepared for when that day comes. The only hope we have is rising up in mass and protecting the 2nd amendment as a force to be reckoned with.  Individual hostilities will not save us.”

A wave of voices rolled over the room. People were becoming more animated. Bob sat down and waited for them to get it out of their system. It was almost ten minutes before it became quiet again.

“I heard the word treason bantered about a few times.  Treason. What exactly is treason? Plotting to overthrow the government? Attacking innocent people? Selling your nation's secrets to the enemy? Is defending the Constitution an act of treason? Does fighting for your freedom invoke an act of treason? Does protecting your home and family from illegal seizure mean you are a traitor? Would one of you enlighten me as to how resisting a government on a mission to destroy our guaranteed rights is considered treason?”

He stood up from his chair and walked to the middle of the room.  He did a 180 degree sweep with his eyes.

“If refusing to allow the government to break into my home and confiscate my property is an act of treason then you are looking at a traitor,” he said and walked to the door.

“If anyone would like to turn me in, my name is Bob Tonner and I live right here in Shaw Valley,” he said and walked out of the room.

Inside all hell was breaking loose.

***

Bob was sitting on top of a picnic table, his elbows on his knees and this chin resting on his clasped hands.  People started filing out of the clubhouse. He watched the animated discussions going on. Several saw him sitting there and started walking over to him.

“Bob,” one of the men said, “Some of us are not exactly clear on your message. Are you saying we should all unite as a big militia to stop the government?”

“Do you know of another way?”

“Christ. You’re saying we should take on the military and every other government agency.”

“Let me ask you this. What is the purpose of a well-regulated militia? To keep other countries from invading America? I don’t think so. No one is going to try to take over America. So who will try to do that? Our own government and that is why the founders of this nation put that provision in the Constitution. They knew that power corrupts and let’s face it, our government is about as corrupt as it can get.”

“But we can’t win an all-out war with our own government,” someone else said.

“Are you sure? A group of rebellious Americans kicked the crap out of one of the strongest military forces at one time. Americans took up arms and sent the British packing.  Is that so different?”

By now everyone had crowded around and was listening.  They knew what he was saying made sense but to actually stand and fight the government was something else entirely.

“They will call in the military,” one man said at last.

“Yes they will. What is the military made up of?  Americans. Some will do as they are told. Probably the majority of them will but a lot will not. They will refuse to fight other Americans. Same for every government agency.  A large portion will simply either not participate or will change sides.”

“Change sides?”

“People, surely it is clear by now. Our government is going to war with those who own guns. It won’t even be a declared war. It’s Japan and 9/11 all over again. Do you think they are going to announce their intentions and allow those that want to knuckle under to turn in their weapons voluntarily? No, this is a sneak attack.”

“My God. You’re talking about another civil war.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

It was six hours later when the meeting finally broke up.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Gas prices hit $ 6.00 a gallon in parts of the country today as crude oil topped one hundred and forty dollars a barrel. No relief is expected any time in the near future according to analysts. Economist Faith Hathaway tells us that this will have a devastating impact on everything from food to travel. With inflation now at 14.5% and Wall Street down for the third straight day, people are losing patience with our government,” the Channel Seven newsperson said,”

“Thank you Erick. Hot. Record temperatures were recorded in much of the West and Midwest. For the fourth day in a row, temperatures climbed to over one hundred and five degrees. Many areas went without power as electric grids failed due to heavy usage. In Chicago, rioting broke out in the Zion area of the city last night. Stores were broken into and several businesses were set on fire. Police battled the rioters for three hours before gaining control of the area. Ninety-two people were arrested. Two police officers were hurt during the three hour long riot.”

***

“Alright. We are all set for the third of July, right?” the President asked.

“We have done a dry run ten times and it has gone off without a hitch. The two Secret Service men know exactly what they are to do. Everyone will be in the right place before your car gets to the Capital Building. Ms. Cole will be in the car just in front of yours. She will exit first and wait as you get out. You then walk up to Ms. Cole, exchange greetings and start for the Capital Building. You can shake hands along the way if you want. Most of the people up front will be ours anyway. When you get to the first step, that’s when everything happens,” Adam Little, head of Homeland Security said.

“And you’re absolutely certain that this will look real?  It won’t seem contrived?”

“Unequivocally. Everything has been rehearsed down to the last detail. Even the placement of the news cameras has been checked and re-checked.”

“Yes, but what about people with cell phones and cameras?”

“We have been recording our rehearsals and photographing them from almost every conceivable angle. It will look exactly like it is supposed to look.”

“Ms. Cole, are you alright with this?”

“Absolutely. All we have to do is follow the script. We have to act like we have no idea what is going on. If we do that, it can’t fail.”

“Then I guess it’s a go,” the President said.

***

“President Quasim will be addressing the nation on Saturday, July third. All major channels will carry his address on the state of the economy and the plans of the administration to ease the current problems.  Gary, what do you think?”

“Honestly I think he has a hard sell. Our inflation continues to rise. Gas is now at $6.10 a gallon and housing starts are at the lowest they have been since the Great Depression. I’m not sure what he intends to tell the people that will help bolster their morale. Let’s face it, America is in big trouble and by all indications, it is only going to get worse.”

“You don’t think he has a magic hat he can pull a rabbit out of, so to speak?”

“It would have to be some hat. He needs a bunch of rabbits to clean up the mess we are currently in. For the past four years the administration has been blaming the previous administration. Now we are in even worse trouble.  Our national debt has almost doubled. Bailouts have dug us deeper in the hole with no real return. It will be hard to sell the same old clichés. We have heard them all for the past five years and I think the people are sick of them by now. They want to see some results.”

“Alright Gary, thank you. It certainly seems that the President has his work cut out for him on July third.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The room was cool and the drapes were drawn tight. The seven of them sat around a large mahogany conference table that had a shine so deep you felt like you could reach into it. Only the President’s Chief of Staff, Sarah Slone, had a pad of paper and pen in front of her. Other than two pitchers of water, glasses and coasters, nothing else was on the table.

“I will be the only one taking notes. This meeting is being recorded as well just to make sure I don’t miss something important. The President has instructed me to tell you that no one else is allowed to record this conversation,” Slone said.

“Fine, I’ll start. We only have a few more weeks to get everything ready. Our target date is July fifth.  That is on a Monday. This date was chosen because no one will suspect the buildup of forces due to the Fourth of July celebrations. Because of fireworks and such, a lot of people will go to bed late and sleep in since many will be off from work the following day. Our plan is to commence Operation Clean Sweep, at 2:00 a.m. Each group will have specific targets to capture. Every gun store, pawn shop, gun repair shop and any business selling ammunition or guns will be breached and the guns and ammunition confiscated.  Same thing goes for militia headquarters, gun clubs, shooting ranges and of course private individuals. Every gun, no matter what the caliber or number of rounds it holds is to be confiscated,” Secretary of State Hanna Cole said.

“Even single shot guns?” the Vice President asked.

“Every gun.  We can sort that out later,” Hanna replied.

He just shook his head.

“We have the military ready. Of course no orders have been issued yet so only the very top echelon knows what is going to be required. Police commissioners in every state and every city with a population of more than 50,000 have been briefed as to what they are to do at the designated time,” Secretary of Defense Roland Clarke told them.

“And they will follow their orders?”

“We can’t guarantee that but I am certain ninety-five percent of them will.”

“So what about the other five percent?” Vice President Jason asked?

“We have backup people ready to jump in where needed.”

“And they can get there in time to actually be of some help?” he asked.

“We have jumping off points around the country. Nothing is more than three hours away.”

“ATF, DEA, HLS and all the other alphabet agencies are ready. They will be heading to their assigned areas on July second. Obviously they will not be wearing identification during that time. We have been allowing them to wear their hair longer so they blend in better,” Adam Little of Homeland Security added.

“So everyone will be in place on July second, is that correct?” Sarah Slone asked.

“That’s the plan,” Cole answered.

“Just making sure I have it all down correct,” Sarah said.

“Your group is responsible for gun stores, and all of those type places, correct?” the VP asked.

“Yes sir. We will hit as many places as we know about. There may be a few out in the boonies that will get missed on the initial sweep but we have plans to make a second sweep as soon as possible.”

“Okay, let me just go over this one more time. Everyone is to be in place on July 2nd. July 3rd and 4th will comprise of blending into the environment and reconnaissance work. At 2:00 a.m. Operation Clean Sweep will commence. Is that correct so far?” Sarah asked.

“That would be correct,” Cole answered before anyone else could.

“I guess my question is does everything start at 2:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time or when it is 2:00 a.m. in the various time zones?”

“Ah, good question,” the VP said.

“Alright let me clarify it a bit more,” Cole said, “The kickoff is 2:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time on the East coast. Each group will start their operations as it becomes 2:00 a.m. in their time zone.”

“Four hours difference between the East Coast and the West Coast and that doesn’t concern you?” Sarah asked.

“We have everything covered,” Cole said icily.

“Humm,” was all Sarah said and went back to writing on her pad of paper.

“Three weeks people,” Cole said, “And Operation Clean Sweep is on. Make sure you are ready because we only get one shot at this.”

The VP chuckled.

“Mr. VP?” Cole said.

“One shot at this. Considering the intent of the operation, that just strikes me as humorous.”

“Sorry sir, I fail to see the humor in any of this,” Cole said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn what you find humorous,” the VP said and walked out of the room.

No one said anything as they watched him go.

“Do not put that last bit on the record,” Cole ordered the Chief of Staff.

Sarah didn’t say anything but just smiled as she gathered up her things as well.

***

L.A. TIMES – HEAT WAVE CONTINUES

For the sixth straight day the heat index has been over one hundred and five degrees.  Rolling brown-outs continue to plague the city as tempers flare. A riot broke out in Oakland last night resulting in one fatality. A man was shot when he brandished a gun at one of the riot police.  He was ordered to place the gun on the ground but instead raised the weapon. Officer Dwayne Collins discharged his service weapon, striking the man in the chest and neck.

The man’s name has not been released awaiting notification of next of kin. Officer Collins has been placed on administrative leave with pay, pending the shooting board hearing. Captain Hill praised the quick action of Officer Collins to keep innocent bystanders from getting hurt.

***

CHICAGO TRIBUNE - CPI TAKES A HUGE LEAP

More bad news for the administration. This month’s figures showed an alarming increase in the Consumer Price Index indicating that inflation is increasing faster than predicted. Even factoring out the rapid rise in gas prices the index still jumped 6.4%. With gas it was 8.1%. Top economists believe that this is just a temporary spike and will drop over the next few months.

Speaker of the House, Thomas Wilson, said that the current administration is totally out of touch with the American people.

“The middle class is disappearing like a snowball in July,” the Speaker said.

He blamed the reckless spending of the White House for the condition of the economy.

“The buck stopped at the President’s desk, unfortunately it was now only worth .47 cents.”

***

DETROIT NEWS – RIOT IN THE STREETS

Rioting broke out today between protesters demanding higher wages to keep up with soaring inflation.  The crowd was told to disperse since they had not applied for a permit. Police tried to block the protesters as they headed toward City Hall. Demonstrators rushed the barricades and forced the police line to be pushed back. A salient was opened and the police found themselves surrounded. Police in riot gear released tear gas and fired rubber bullets into the throng.

Many of the protesters were prepared and had brought gas masks with them. The clash lasted over six hours before they were finally forced to disperse. Eighty-one demonstrators were injured along with twenty-six police officers. Sixty-five protesters were arrested and booked into jail. Police Chief Oscar Maddox said that he was surprised at their organization and preparation. He estimated that over fifty percent had gas masks with them...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rain had been falling for two days. By Wednesday, nearly fifteen inches of rain had fallen and the weather forecast was not encouraging. Many people had been evacuated as the tropical depression continued to move along at a slow five miles per hour.

Thursday was even worse for many living along the Gulf Coast as not only the rain but wind became the enemy. Gusts up to sixty miles per hour were being recorded with a sustained wind speed of thirty miles per hour.

“We need to get those people out of there,” Police Chief Brandon said, indicating a trailer park that had water rising at an alarming rate. The creek behind the park was overflowing causing the rushing water to fill the low lying area.

“Some of them said they were not leaving,” a deputy yelled back, some of his words being carried away by the wind.

“We aren’t giving them a choice. Staying is not an option. Get a couple men and go evict them if necessary,” Brandon yelled back.

“What if they refuse?”

“Damn it, just do it. Arrest them if you have to. I don’t care, but get them out of there.”

The Captain looked at the sky and the rain seemed to be falling even harder if that was possible. A large gust of wind almost knocked him off his feet.

People are so dumb sometimes, he thought as he sloshed back to his car. The water was almost up to the bottom of the door. He climbed in and keyed the microphone.

“Victor two three, Victor one, do you copy?”

Static filled the line.

“Victor two three, over.”

“Yeah One, go ahead.”

“What’s your 10-20?”

“Southbridge Road and Franklin.”

“How is it looking?”

“Bad Captain. The water appears to be eating away at the cement pilings. Part of two of them has crumbled in areas.”

“Okay. Close the bridge. Don’t let anyone go across in either direction,” the Captain ordered.

“Captain, that’s gonna cause a lot of problems. Only one other bridge is open and it's over fifteen miles from here.”

“Yeah well, that’s the least of our worries. Just get it shut down.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“I do.”

Geez, what a moron. Did he think that having the bridge collapse was an option? He looked out the window and saw one of his deputies wading through the water toward his car. He opened the door and water started to come in the car.

“Christ,” he said and got out, closing the car door quickly.

“Captain, one guy refuses to leave. He won’t even open the door. We would have to break it down to get him to come out.”

“Damn it Charley, you don’t give him a choice. Tell him...ah hell, I’ll handle this,” he said splashing through the water.

“Which trailer?” he asked.

“That one, nearest to the end of the street.”

“Oh hell yes. Of course it would be,” he said starting off once more.

Somehow rain had managed to find its way down into the neck of his rain coat, sending a torrent of cold water down his front and back. Great, just what he needed on top of everything else. He got to the house and went up the three steps.  He banged on the door.

“Go away,” a muffled voice said through the door.

“This is Police Chief Brandon. Who am I talking to?”

“None of your damn business. Go away and leave me alone.”

“We can’t do that sir. We need you to come with us. We will keep your place safe while you are at the temporary shelter,” Brandon said.

“No way. Now get off my property.”

“Sir if you do not open this door we will break it down and arrest you. Now I’m tired of wasting time so open the damn door and let us take you to the shelter,” the Captain yelled.

Nothing happened and Brandon turned and looked at his deputy.

“Looks like we are going to have to drag his ass out. Go get the battering ram and let’s get this over with.”

A loud explosion filled the air as Captain Brandon went flying through the air and landed face down in the water.  The deputy stood there in shock. The second shot caught the deputy in the face, knocking him down on his back.  he water started turning red as the two lifeless bodies bobbed up and down in the current.

***

“Son of a bitch. You mean they are both dead?”

“Yes sir. The Captain took one in the back and Deputy Myers got it in the face.”

“And he is still in the trailer?”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, I know it sucks but get the SWAT team in here ASAP. Let them know we have two officers down, that should get them to respond no matter what they are doing,” Kenny Feel, the assistant police chief said.

“They are already on their way. I called them as soon as I found out what happened.”

“Good. Good job. Okay, let me know when they arrive.”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Just as he was finishing up his sentence, two heavily armored vehicles came splashing through the deep water.  They no sooner had stopped when twelve men jumped out. All carried automatic assault weapons. One of the men broke off and walked over to the assistant police chief.

“You in charge?” he asked.

“I am now.”

“Show me the house,” he said.

“That one right there. Next to the last on the right hand side.”

“Yeah, the one with the holes in the door. I should have figured that out for myself. Okay, here is the drill. We will try to get him to come out but if at some point we feel there is a danger to ourselves or others we will go in and get him one way or the other. Are you ready to turn command over to me?”

“It’s all yours.”

He nodded and went back to his men. A few minutes later they were carefully making their way toward the mobile home.

Kenny sat in his car with the window down and water splashing in. He could hear the leader using a bullhorn to talk to the man inside. It was impossible to hear the other end of the conversation.

Two shots in quick succession came from the trailer. Immediately weapons on full automatic opened up on the trailer. Windows were blown out and hundreds of bullet holes peppered the side of the trailer. Just as fast as it had started, it ended. It was strangely quiet. Even the wind seemed to have died down.

“Come out with your hands up or we will open fire again,” the voice drifted across the water.

Nothing happened and the leader repeated it once again.  Still nothing. Feel watched as one officer slid alongside of the trailer and lobbed a grenade through the blown out window. A loud ‘BOOM’ resonated and he watched as men rushed the home. Then it was all quiet again. They had obviously killed or wounded the man in the trailer. A few minutes later they emerged. One man had what looked like a 12 gauge pump shotgun.

Feel just shook his head. What a stupid thing to die for and he had lost the Captain and a good deputy. Over what?

***

The assistant police chief sat across the table from the SWAT team leader.

“You’re telling me that he said he would rather die than give up his right to protect his home?”

“Hey, that’s what he shouted. He said he had the right to defend his property. That the Constitution gave him that right.”

“Is he nuts or what?”

“I don’t think so. I think he truly believed that he had the right to determine if he should leave or not. He saw being forced to move as an infringement on his personal freedom. In some ways he was right. He stepped over the line when he shot the Captain and deputy.”

“You think we should have just left him there?” Feel asked.

“Not my call but I guess since you’re asking, yeah. If he wanted to stay what did it really matter? Even if he died in that crappy trailer, it would have been his choice. No matter how you look at it, he ended up dead.”

“Jesus, we can’t let people do whatever they want,” Feel said.

“That’s true if it is violating other people's rights or is a danger to the public in general but that wasn’t happening here. In my mind he had the right to stay if he wanted too. He knew the dangers and was willing to accept them. Like I said, it wasn’t until he crossed the line and shot someone that he went too far.”

“And you don’t think he was crazy to risk his life like that?”

“Determined yes, crazy, no. He should have been left alone in my opinion,” the SWAT team leader said and stood up.

“Would you have resisted?” Feel asked.

“My home and my family are mine. I would not take kindly to someone trying to tell me what was best for me. I am capable of making that decision. Would I resist? You can count on it,” he said and was gone.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Brigadier General Alan “Mac” MacMillan had started to think about retirement. After nearly thirty years in the Marine Corp, he knew he was pretty much stuck in his current pay grade. It wasn’t the one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars a year that was bugging him. He knew that unless the US had a major war he would never make O-8, Major General. He was always going to be a baby-G. He was going to have to settle for just one star. His father had been a three star Lieutenant General.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Major General Warren’s office, how may I help you?” a soft voice said over the phone.

“Tell that old man that his worst nightmare is on the line?”

“Sir?”

“Just give him the message,” Mac said.

A few seconds later a gruff voice said, “This had better not be who I think it is.”

“What if it is?”

“Then I’d have to meet you at the obstacle course and kick your butt.”

“In your dreams buddy. So what’s shaken?”

“Same ole, same ole, different day.”

“You got that right. Look, I was wondering if we could get together soon.”

“Shit. I don’t like the sound of that. Last time we just got together we had to go talk to General Larkin. You do remember the ass chewing we got, right?”

“Oh hell, that was a long time ago. He has forgotten about that by now.”

“That was six months ago you boob. You getting Alzheimer’s?”

“Only when it suits me.”

“Okay, what's wrong? Really.”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong. I just felt like talking to you.”

“Uh huh. Give buddy. I ain’t buying it.”

“Honestly, I would rather not discuss it over the phone.”

“Hang on a minute, let me pull up my schedule.”

Mac listened to the noise in the background and could hear Ed Warren yelling for someone to get the damn schedule up on his computer. The man was pathetic when it came to computers. Finally he came back on the line.

“How about next Tuesday?”

“That would be great.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“Off base. How about the Dockside Restaurant in Port Royal?”

“That will do. You can even buy.”

“What a guy. 11:30 hours okay?”

“See you there and quit worrying so much. Now I’m going to be spooked for the rest of the week,” Warren said as he hung up.

“If you’re worried now, wait until we meet,” Mac said into the dead phone.

***

WASHINGTON POST – June 23

A crowd estimated to be over 300,000 demonstrated around the reflecting pool at Washington Mall. Chants of “Impeach Quasim” and “Do Your Job” were shouted. Police kept most of the demonstrators confined to the Mall area but at one point a large group broke through the barriers and started toward the White House. Tear gas was used but did not slow down the onrushing crowd. Police fired rubber bullets and bean bags at the demonstrators. One demonstrator was killed when a DCPD officer swung his baton at and struck twenty-nine year old Dennis Canton in the back of the head.  Fifty-one others were treated for minor injuries.

Captain Brisko said “My officers acted in accordance with current policy.”

When asked about the victim, he would only say, “No comment.”

The protesters have a valid permit to demonstrate again tomorrow. Captain Brisko said that his men "would be ready.”

***

“What the hell is going on?” the President asked.

“Frustration. Inflation is out of control. The consumer price index is up; gas prices just topped $6.95 in some parts of the country. They want results.”

“This is exactly why we have to disarm the general population. Until we get this economy turned around we are sitting on a powder keg.”

“Mr. President, may I speak freely.”

“Meaning?”

“I have a question that is eating at me,” Kendra Cox, the White House Press Secretary said.

“Yes. Go on.”

“How much is Operation Clean Sweep going to cost?”

“How much?”

“Yes sir.”

“I don’t know. Whatever it takes.”

“Ten million? Twenty million, a hundred million? Over a billion?”

“Kendra I said I don’t know. If I had to guess I would say around one and a half billion. Why is that important?”

“Well people are losing their jobs, houses are being foreclosed on, people can hardly afford to drive their cars. A billion and a half pumped back into small business would seem like a better use of the money,” she said.

The President looked at her for several seconds,” and then laughed. “I get it. Save a billion here and a billion there and pretty soon you’re talking about some real money. Is that it?”

“Honestly, that’s pretty much it. We are spending money on the wrong things.”

“Kendra, you have no idea what the big picture looks like. I think it would be best if you just did your job and I did mine,” he said.

“Yes sir,” Kendra said. 'If you were doing your job people in the streets wouldn’t be calling for your impeachment’, she thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Bob Tonner looked at the stack of messages that had piled up on his desk. ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ he wondered as he sorted through them.

After the last meeting it was decided that the militia leaders would contact as many other militia groups as possible and hold regional meetings. There was no way they could bring them all together without setting off alarm bells all the way back to Washington.

He didn’t recognize ninety percent of the names on the messages. The ones he did recognize he put in one pile, the rest went into a separate stack.

“Calvin Gains.”

“Calvin. Bob Tonner here. I was returning your call.”

“Thanks. I don’t remember if we covered gun clubs like yours at the last meeting.”

“We talked it about it briefly but most felt it was a pretty risky move. A lot of gun clubs let the police, sheriff’s departments and even SWAT teams use their ranges. That could cause a potential problem. We left it up to each leader to make his own determination about contacting them,” Bob told him.

“Yeah. I can see the problem. We have a gun club just down the road but the State Police have a range so the other cops use their facility.”

“So you’re going to contact them?”

“I think I’ll talk to the club president and feel him out.”

“That sounds like a wise decision. I think I would do the same.”

“Do the police use your club?”

“No way. Early on they did but they started hogging it and leaving a mess for us to clean up. We told them they would have to go someplace else. They built their own a few miles north of us.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll pass that information on to the other guys and tell them the same thing. I think clubs that have the police using the range may be something we want to skip.”

“I totally agree.”

“Thanks again Bob.”

“Anytime you need something just give me a shout,” Bob said as he closed his cell phone.

As soon as he hung up he thought about the conversation.  If anyone grabbed it out of the air it could cause a lot of questions to be asked. He decided that he would purchase a couple throw-away cell phones for calls like that.

Bob walked over to the refrigerator and took out a cold bottle of water. He had just unscrewed the cap when his phone went off again.

“Bob Tonner.”

“Mr. Tonner. 1093 dash 3486,” the voice said and was gone.

It was his contact with the inside information. He knew it was extremely important by the 10 in the first set of numbers. Ten being the most urgent. He quickly got out his code book and checked the message.

“Important: July 5, RAID”

‘Shit,’ he said laying down the piece of paper like it was on fire. They were actually going to do it. This was crazy. Talking about it was one thing but to actually receive a date was almost unbelievable. He sat down and pushed the note farther from him almost like it was diseased. In a way it was.

***

MCAS-Beaufort, South Carolina was the location of the Marine Corps Air Station where Brigadier General Alan “Mac” MacMillan was the commanding officer. It had been his home for the past three years and probably would be until he retired or was forced out.

He put the top down on the 1962 Corvette that he had bought new when he was a young lieutenant. He hopped on Trask Parkway and headed southeast before picking up 280 South. He exited on to Paris Avenue. At the end of the street he turned right on Eleventh Street and continued until he arrived at the Dockside Restaurant.

He climbed out of the Vette and looked at it lovingly. The arrest-me-red paint was just as bright as it was the day he bought it. He patted the fender as he walked across the parking lot.

The restaurant felt refreshing as he entered to a cool blast of air. He took a second for his eyes to adjust before he walked further into the restaurant. The place had the typical nautical trappings. Wood paneled walls, boats, and seafaring paraphernalia decked out the interior. A huge fish, which Mac thought might be a Muskie, was mounted on one wall.

He took a table with a view of the bay and where he could watch for General Frank Warren. A young waitress came over to the table and he ordered an iced tea. Just as she sat the iced tea on the table, he saw Frank come through the door. He had done the same thing, waited until his eyes adjusted. Mac waved and he walked over as Mac stood to shake hands.

“How the hell are you Mac?”

“Doing okay I guess. Don’t have many complaints. How about you?”

“Ah you know. Same crap. I swear, the recruits we are getting now days have the collective IQ of a carrot. What a lazy bunch of bums. Half of them have tattoos like they were in prison for the first half of their lives. Sorriest, dumbest looking bunch I have ever seen. Give me the hippies from the 60s over these freaks. These guys are all Gomers.”

“No Frank, tell me how you really feel.”

“Ah shit Mac. Everything is going to hell in a handcart. I’m actually thinking about hanging it up.”

“Holy shit. I never thought I would hear you say that,” Mac said in amazement.

“I think it’s time. Our budget is almost non-existent. We have deferred maintenance to such an extent that it’s getting dangerous. If something does happen who the hell do you think will get blamed?” Frank said bitterly.

Mac had never heard him talk like this before. Things must be as bad at Parris Island as they were at MCAS.

“Sorry, just blowing off steam. Got no one to talk to at the Island,” Frank said.

“You’re not serious about EAS.”

“Well to tell the truth I am giving it really serious thought. The IG just showed up last week, unannounced, poked around for a few hours and left. Didn’t say ten words to me.  I have no idea what that was all about.”

“What did he look at?”

“The frickin OQR’s,” Frank said.

“The Officer Qualification Records? What the hell for?”

“That’s just it. I don’t have any idea.”

“Weird shit Frank.”

“Oh yeah. Rumor has it he plans to drop in on you real soon.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Easy Mac. I just found out today. You had already left.”

“Son of a bitch. What the hell is going on?”

He was just about to say something when the waitress came back. They quickly ordered without even glancing at the menu, waiting for her to leave.

“Listen. This is something that I picked up in the wind. It seems the President is going to order a sweep of the civilian population to remove all weapons from private individuals.”

Mac looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“I kid you not, Mac. It’s called Operation Clean Sweep. He is going to order the police, DEA, FBI and all the other alphabet agencies to disarm all citizens.”

“Unbelievable. What about the second amendment?”

“Their thinking is that it is better to grab them and destroy them quickly before they can be ordered to return them.”

“That’s an impeachable offence,” Mas stuttered.

“That’s only half of it. The military are to support the operation.”

“What?” he said raising his voice.

Several people looked over at them.

“Easy. They simply can’t muster enough people without the help of the military. The Army and Marines will be ordered to support the operation.”

“Frank, that’s crazy. This is...insane. Does he really think he can get away with this?”

“Evidently so. It’s been planned for some time now. I don’t know when but I suspect the IG’s visit had something to do with it.”

“What are you going to do if you are ordered to send men?” Mac asked.

Frank didn’t answer for several seconds. He took a drink of his iced tea and was saved from answering by the waitress bringing their order. She hovered far too long before finally heading to another table.

“Frank?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“But you have thought about it.”

“Almost nonstop. Frankly I’m not sure what I will do when the time comes. What about you?”

“I won’t do it. I’ll resign first. I am not going to take part in an illegal activity no matter who orders it.”

“Not even the President of the United States?”

“As far as I am concerned I won’t recognize him as my Commander-in-Chief,” Mac said.

“All I can say is, God help us if they go through with this.”

The two men talked for another two hours before they departed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CNN NEWS - Protesters filled the streets in major cities all around the nation today. Signs of IMPEACH QUASIM and GIVE AMERICA BACK were visible everywhere. The most violent protests took place in Houston, Miami, Baton Rouge, and Memphis. Thousands of protesters clashed with police for several hours.

Miami was the worst. Six protesters were killed during the ensuing confrontation and another forty-one were injured. One police officer suffered second and third degree burns when a gas filled bottle shattered and engulfed him. Other officers were able to get him to the ground and smother the flames.

Florida’s Governor, Michel Cain, declared Martial Law in Dade County. A 9:00 p.m. curfew was imposed. Small bands of rioters roamed the city at various times during the day.

Smaller protests about unemployment and inflation took place in cities all across America....

***

“Those idiots. What do they think they can accomplish by rioting?”

“They are just blowing off steam,” Hanna Cole said.

“I don’t call rioting and people getting killed just blowing off steam.”

“We have to issue a statement indicating that we are tackling the issues. Something to reassure the public that we have a plan,” Sarah Sloan said.

“That’s well and fine but what is that plan exactly?  Unemployment jumped another two percent this week and inflation rose one and a half percent. We don’t have a plan that will reassure them,” President Quasim said.

“We need to introduce another stimulus plan,” Hanna replied.

“Christ. Where are we going to get the money for that? We are up to our eyeballs in debt. China, Japan and Egypt own half of the US as it stands now.”

“That may be so but if we do nothing these riots will increase in number and intensity,” Hanna said.

“What a mess. I’m surrounded by the best minds in the country and we don’t have a clue as to how to fix the problem,” Quasim lamented.

“We had better hope the scheduled July, 3rd aborted attempt on your life will help.”

“A fake assassination attempt to calm down the nation. How pathetic is that?” Quasim replied.

“It’s better than you going on national television and saying you don’t really have a plan. At least this buys us some time.”

The President just shook his head. Pathetic. Just pathetic.

***

Carl Hicks and Bob Tonner sat at the front of the room.  Over eighty-five people were packed in the room. The air conditioner was doing all it could but the temperature was still 83 degrees.

Tonner stood and said, “Okay. I know it’s a bit warm so I’ll keep this brief. First, thank you all for coming. I know it is never easy to travel, feeling like you are being followed.  This will be our last meeting here. It is too dangerous for us to meet in such a large group. Eventually someone is bound to poke his nose into what these meetings are about. Most of you know that Carl has a source high up in the government that has been feeding him information. We are damn lucky that not everyone is willing to blindly follow the government. Carl, why don’t you tell them the latest information.”

Carl slowly stood and walked to the microphone that had been set up.

“A raid of all gun stores, pawn shops, militia groups, and private citizens is still on. The proposed date is July 5th. In the early morning hours government agencies will sweep in and confiscate all guns and ammunition. No one will be exempt. The date was picked because it has been determined that most people will be tired from being up late on the 4th of July. Since Monday the 5th is a holiday for many, it will make getting to gun stores and pawn shops easier. Most won’t be open that day. This has been rumored for some time but I now have firm confirmation that the event is actually going to take place. As far as I can see we have only two options. Let them come in and take our second amendment rights from us or stand our ground. I cannot make that decision for you. I will remind you that the whole purpose of a militia is to safeguard the nation against illegal acts by the government.”

He paused letting it sink in.

“My source tells me that many of the military commanders are unsure about what they will do when the time comes. The majority will do as they are ordered but some will stop and think about what this really means. It is a clear breach of the US Constitution, an illegal order given by the President of the United States. Even the Commander-in-Chief does not have the authority to defy the Constitution,” he told them.

“The kickoff time for what they are calling Operation Clean Sweep is 2:00 a.m. on Monday, July 5th. Ladies and gentlemen, you are going to have to make a hard decision in the next day or so. Time is running out. Those who will resist are going to have to band together and work out a chain of command and a plan to confront the government. You will be called traitors. You will be called turncoats, outlaws, and a lot worse. If you can’t handle standing up to them then you should surrender your arms. The rest of us who intend to resist, need to make plans regarding how we are going to react when the 5th comes around.”

He turned back to Bob and nodded. Bob came back to the microphone.

“How many ex-military or reserve officers do we have in the room?” Bob asked.

Hands shot up all around the room.

“Any Marine or Army Officers?”

“Several hands remained in the air.”

“Any O-3 and above?”

A couple of hands went down.

“O-4 and above?”

A few more dropped.

“O-5?”

Nine hands still remained held up.

“O-6 or above?”

“Four still were up in the air.’

“O-7?”

Only one remained.

“Sir, you are?”

“Brigadier General Joel Adams.”

“I don’t want to put you on the spot and you can simply not answer if you don’t want to. Do you intend to surrender your arms or to resist?”

Adams rubbed his chin and stood.

“As a military man for almost my entire life it is ingrained in me to follow orders, especially when given directly by the Commander-in-Chief. How do you say no to the leader of the country?” he said, looking around the room.

Everyone was riveted on what he was saying. He cleared this throat, and took a deep breath.

“The problem as I see it is one of moral conviction. Do you follow orders that you know to be morally wrong and that could potentially destroy the very nation you have given an oath to protect. The famous ‘I was just following orders’ reverberated through Germany during the Second World War. Hitler’s men and women were ‘just following orders’. It was morally wrong but they hid behind that phrase. I do not intend to follow down that path.”

Everyone in the room erupted in cheering and clapping. Adams nodded quickly to Bob and sat down. It was several minutes before everyone finally settled down.

“It seems that most of you are in agreement with General Adams. Having said that, anyone who is not in agreement should probably leave at this point. Those staying will be asked to participate in talks later this afternoon. Lunch will be served outside at the tables by the shooting range. We would like to have all officers of any rank and enlisted with the rank of E-6 and above to join us for a brief meeting. How about those staying but not above the rank of E-6 retiring to the lunch tables,” Bob said.

***

“Bob, Carl, pleasure to meet you two. You know this is quite a risk that you are taking. Anyone in that room could be reporting back to one of the government agencies,” General Adams said.

They were seated in a small area off the main room of the gun club. Comfortable chairs with coffee tables were arranged throughout the room. A thick burgundy carpet covered the floor.  Pictures lined most of the space on the walls.

“Well, I guess that’s the same risk our forefathers took against the British and later during the Civil War. Sometimes the risk has to be taken,” Bob said.

“Yes but in those days it was a little easier to carry off meetings. It’s much harder today.”

“You’re right General but the threat remains the same.”

“Alright.”

“Anyway, with the men we have in this room, we can organize a resistance. I know, it won’t be much but it will buy us time.  Carl knows that there are a lot of other military men who will have a hard time with the orders and will resist as well. We need to get as many weapons and as much ammunition as possible safely hidden. Once the government has them we will be virtually helpless to defend ourselves,” Bob told them.

“That makes sense but how? I mean, we are talking about involving a hell of a lot of people. The risk of the government finding out will be enormous,” Adams said.

“That’s true. I can’t see any way around taking that risk.  The NRA is going to help us communicate with as many gun owners, manufactures and ammunition suppliers as possible. Of course the government will know as soon as that happens but we have to alert as many people as possible. The government won’t have time to change their plans.  We intend to wait until the 3rd of July to send out the message.”

“Most of the people won’t even read the message until it’s too late.”

“That’s a real risk but everyone who does is one more armed citizen.”

“Do you think people will really resist? I mean the average citizen?” the General asked.

“Some won’t but a lot of them will. Most people understand that citizens being stripped of their second amendment rights leaves them at the mercy of the government with no checks and balances in place. A good many of them will hide their guns and ammo or simply not be at home when the government makes their raids.”

“This is unbelievable. This is what you might expect in some third world country or a dictatorship but damn it, this is America. We shouldn’t even have to worry about this kind of invasion of our homes and disregard of our civil rights” Adams said, slamming his fist on the arm of the chair.

“True but here we are. The question is, how are we going to respond?” Carl said.

“What do you want from us?” Adams asked.

“We are ex-military men. I was an E-6 and Carl was an E-7. Not exactly high up the food chain as far as the military goes.  We have given you the information. We need to pass this along to someone who can actually organize the resistance and come up with a military plan,” Bob said.

“Men,” the General said to the others in the room, “How many of you are willing to join the resistance against this suspension of our constitutional rights?”

Every hand went up without hesitancy. The General raised his eyebrows.

“It means going against the government. It means that you will be considered felons. The government will come after you and you will probably have to fight other Americans. Think about that a moment. Once the shots are fired there is no going back.  We will be, in effect, starting the Second Civil War. Our nation will be divided. Men and women on both sides will be killed.  Some of the military will fight on the government's side and some will join us, but no matter what, we are talking about a war. Right here on our home soil. American blood will be spilled. Are you sure you are willing to go that far? The simplest thing would be to just give up your weapons and work within the legal system to overturn the decision made by the government.”

“But they will destroy our weapons and ammunition,” one of the men piped up.

“Probably true but eventually new ones will be made at some point.”

“How can you be so sure General?” another man asked.

“Because it is business. Someone in some country will set up shop and start producing weapons. Other countries will smuggle and sell them to the people in this country. They can slow us down but at some point people will band together and resist as the government tries to take away the other rights we now enjoy. It may be ten or twenty years from now but eventually people will get fed up and rise up against the government.”

“Then what the hell. We are in better shape now than we will be after they come in and confiscate our weapons. We know when and we know what the objective is. Now is the time to stand and fight,” one of the women in the group said.

“I don’t disagree. I just want to make sure you understand the repercussions. Once the first bullet leaves the barrel it can’t be taken back. It will hit the fan and it will hit hard,” the General replied.

It was quiet in the room as people were thinking over all that had been said. It would be much easier to just give in and find another way of fighting. Armed conflict means dead on both sides, a Civil War right here on American soil.

After a few minutes, Bob said, “General are you willing to take this on as the leader?”

“God forgive me but yes, I am.”

“Then we had better get started,” Carl said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“We want to go over this with you one more time,” Special Agent Waters said.

“Ah Christ. We have done this at least twenty times.”

“Then this will make twenty-one. Where will you be standing?”

“On the third step of the Capital Building.”

“What will you have on?”

“Blue pants, blue and white checkered shirt and a wind breaker.”

“Zipped?”

“Yes, at first.”

“Then?”

“I wait until the car with the President comes to a stop. The car right behind that one will carry the Secretary of State. Once both cars are stopped, the President will wait for the Secretary of State to get along side of him. They will stop and wave to the crowd.”

“Then what happens?” the Agent asked.

“As they start up the steps, I will unzip my coat. When they get to the second step I pull my gun and start to aim at them. Before I can shoot, you will yell, ‘gun’. I will turn slightly. You will shoot and the gel cap will strike me in the chest. It will explode on contact splattering blood. At the same time I will press the button on the trigger that sends the signal to the squibs that will explode out my back. I drop the gun and fall to the ground. You rush over and grab the gun.”

“Okay, then I bend down and you whisper in my ear and then die. I take off my jacket and put it over your face.  Then we wait for the EMT to come and take you away.”

“Got it. I change clothes in the ambulance. Get my two million dollars and you take me to the jet that will fly me to Caracas.”

“Look, the important thing to keep in mind is that people will get all of this on camera or cell phones. It has to look real. The most critical aspect is when I shoot you. It has to look real. Don’t over play it,” the Agent warned.

“I got it. We rehearsed this enough times that I can do it in my sleep.”

“Okay. You need to be here at 6:00 p.m. so we can get you wired and ready. I’ll have all of the necessary passes to get you into place. Agent B and I will make sure you get to where you need to go if anything crops up.”

“You just get me in the right location, I’ll do my part,” the man said.

***

“Everything is set?” Hanna asked.

They were sitting in the Oval Office with Secret Service Agent Waters and Lakeland.

“Yes. He has been through the rehearsal twenty-two times. We did a walk through just yesterday. He understands his part, at least he thinks he does,” Agent Waters replied.

“You know a thousand cameras will be on you the second this starts,” the President said.

“Yes sir. We have rehearsed it while others took pictures to make sure we didn’t leave any loopholes. It looks good from every perspective. We even had someone on the roof with a telephoto lens taking movies and pictures. It should go directly as planned.”

“It had better Agent Waters. There can be no margin for error.”

“Ms. Cole, this has inherent risk no matter what but this is the plan I was given to carry out. I will do it to the best of my ability but no plan is without some risk. I cannot give you a one hundred percent chance of success but I am reasonably certain our chances are ninety-five percent that it will go off without a hitch.”

“That’s the best we can ask for Agents,” the President said.

Cole was about to speak up but then thought better of it.

“He will have his ‘Lifetime Member NRA Card’ on him?”

“Absolutely. Along with a membership card for the Newberry Gun Club.”

“Excellent. Alright Agent Waters. Thank you for your report,” the President said and stood and shook his and Lakeland’s hands.

Once they were out of the room the President said, “I guess it’s not too late to call this off.”

“I don’t see how we can. Agent Waters is right, there is always a chance of something going wrong but what other option do we have? You can’t march into the Capital Building and just try to do a tap dance. You have nothing to tell the American people that will help them to calm down.  In fact it would probably only make things worse.”

“Geez. Talk about a rock and a hard place,” the President said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Brigadier General Joel Adams sat and tried to reconstruct just how things had come to this point. He decided it was a culmination of many individual events that had brought them to this point.

The moral decay that had been going on since the 60s, the ‘Me’ Generation, Generation X and New Boomers had each taken a slice out of the values America had once stood for.  Now the country would suffer unbelievable hardship with a Civil War looming in the near future. Was there a way to stop all of the madness, he wondered.  Was it too late?

They were questions that he alone could not answer. Joel Adams had been a military man for most of his life. He had served during the Vietnam War and saw what happens when a nation becomes divided. Riots, people getting hurt, the government no longer trusted, and families divided. While Iraq and Afghanistan did not help to bring the country together, even after the events of 9/11, at least the strife of the 60s was averted.

Joel had certainly seen his fair share of action. He was a young Captain when he was first sent to Nam. While he thought he was prepared to face the challenges, he soon learned how wrong he was. The most disturbing of all was not only how the war was being waged but where it was being waged from. How could those sitting on their butts back in Washington even begin to think they knew what the men on the line faced.

Within six months of seeing men getting killed and wounded for absolutely no good reason, he became discouraged. He made it his mission to protect the men under his command as best he could. Being nothing more than a Captain, it was impossible at times.

No one was more amazed than he was when he was promoted to major while serving in the Central Highlands. It was more a lack of qualified officers than his performance he surmised. Nevertheless, it gave him more authority which he turned into saving more American lives by skirting orders.

Wounded while serving with the 7/15th at the Pleiku A.O. he received the Purple Heart and Army Commendation Medal.  After his recovery from  RPG fragments, he was assigned to FSB Illingsworth as CO. On March 31st, 1970 a fierce and deadly fight took place.  The battle raged through the night and into April 1st. In the early morning hours, the 272 2nd NVA Regiment attacked the base. It was costly for the Viet Cong, losing over two hundred men but the Americans paid a heavy price as well. Twenty-five soldiers died and another 54 were wounded in vicious fighting.  Major Adams was one of the wounded, having been hit by a round from an Ak-47 in the thigh. He refused treatment and continued to direct the defense of the base.  He was on the last Medavac out after the fighting had ended.

He was awarded his 2nd Purple Heart and the Silver Star for his gallantry during the siege. He was sent to the 71st Evac Hospital where he was operated on. He spent six weeks in recovery before he was rotated back to the US. Upon his return he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and assigned to the U.S. Army John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

During Desert Shield he was assigned to the 18th FA Brigade XVIII Corps. While war is never easy, compared to Vietnam, it was a walk in the park. Dangers existed but nothing like in the boonies of Nam. The soldiers had measurable objectives and the forces were directed from the fighting line, not back in the White House. Adams was again promoted to a full bird Colonel.

He remained a Colonel until just a year before he retired. He thought his chances of making General were all but over. While he still did not fully understand it, he found that he was promoted to Brigadier General. Even though the Army put pressure on him to stay during the upcoming Desert Storm campaign. Having enough of fighting he resigned his commission. He was done with all wars, or so he thought.

Now here he was, standing on the brink of a potential Civil War. He sat at his desk after returning from the meeting with a glass of Scotch. He usually savored the earthy peat flavor of single malt Scotch but tonight he found little pleasure in the taste. He set the glass on the desk and placed his palms against his eyes. How? Why? Can’t someone stop the madness? How did we become such a divided nation? Haven’t we been warned about that for the last 250 years? What the hell is wrong with us? He wanted to shout “STOP IT,” but there was no one to hear.

He unfolded the map they had worked on with the location of the forty-seven militia units. They had worked out a chain of command and assigned various leaders to their positions. A skirmish line and the tactics they intended to use had been meticulously gone over and responsibilities assigned.

This had to be a surprise hit and run fight they had decided, until they could actually form a real fighting army. The only way this could succeed was for much of the military and private citizens to join their cause. It would take time but they had to keep attacking and falling back to buy the time they would need. It would be Vietnam all over only this time they would be the Viet Cong. They would have to choose their fights carefully. They would use the most basic guerilla warfare. They would fight when the time was right and fade into the general population during the rest of the time. Viet Cong by night, American workers during the day.

He shook his head and finished his drink. For the first time he was glad his wife of thirty years was with the Lord. He would not want her to see what was coming next.

“Damn,” he said and folded the map up. He stood and turned off the desk light. There was nothing more he could do tonight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Are you all set?” Agent Lakeland asked.

“Got everything. Membership cards, fake I.D., and the gun.”

“Do we need to go over this one more time?”

“God no. I’ve got it okay? I know what I need to do.”

“Okay but remember there is no margin for error.”

“Yeah, yeah. You have said that a million times. I get it.”

“Agent Waters, are you satisfied?”

“If he hasn’t got it by now it’s too late. We are less than twelve hours away from the actual event taking place.”

“Nothing from the White House?”

“Not a word.”

“Then I guess it is on,” he turned back to the man.

“Leave your car at the airport lot. I will be the one to pick you up. I’ll make sure you get through security and to the right place. Make sure you spot Agent Waters and know exactly where he is.”

“Relax. I know the drill. I’ll be waiting for you to come get me. I’ll check the location of Waters as soon as I get to the steps.”

“Stay out of sight until tomorrow then. No unnecessary risk.”

“I’m not about to risk my two million bucks. You can be sure of that.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Agent Lakeland said.

Lakeland waited until he was gone before speaking again.

“He is a squirrel but I think he will be fine.”

“Not real bright but that’s a good thing. If he was real smart this would be a lot harder,” Waters replied.

“I wonder if the handlers for Oswald had this conversation the night before the Kennedy assassination.”

“I’m sure they were just as worried as we are. That turned out like they wanted, so will this.”

“It’s out of our hands now. All we can do is follow through,” Lakeland said.

***

Protestors had gathered twenty deep along Independence Avenue, Constitution Avenue, and along 1st Street. The motorcade would take Constitution Avenue until it ran into Pennsylvania Avenue where it would turn right. They would then turn left back onto Constitution and turn right on to 1st Street. Protesters were blocked from entering the Capital Building grounds by both the Metro Police and units from the National Guard. They would be able to see the motorcade but no one would be allowed to cross any of the boundary streets.  K-9 units were out in force as well.

Motorcycles led with six SUVs, three Cadillac limos and three more SUVs following. The SUVs would be followed by six more motorcycles. Secret Service agents and plain clothes police would be scattered among the protesters.   Sharpshooters would be on the roofs of the buildings along the route the motorcade would take.

Promptly at 8:35 p.m. the first motorcycles turned onto Constitution Avenue. Protesters lined the streets with signs indicating their various opinions of the administration.

“My God. Have you ever seen so many people like this?” the President asked.

“Unfortunately yes, during the Vietnam war. It was much more unruly in those days. This is mild compared to back then,” Adam Little, head of Homeland Security said.

“Doesn’t look too tame to me. They look like they are in an ugly mood,” the President said.

“Yeah, if they would put as much effort into getting a job they wouldn’t be unemployed. You have to ask yourself where do they get the money to travel here and how do they get the time? Nothing is cheap in Washington so where are they staying and eating? It’s hard to feel sorry for them when they don’t have their priorities straight,” Adam said.

“I guess that is one way to look at it.”

Just as they turned right on to Pennsylvania Avenue, two men rushed out from the police lines toward the motorcade.  They only made it a few feet before several police grabbed them and took them to the ground. The crowd jeered at the police officers but they were able to handcuff the two and lead them off quickly.

“Jerks,” Adam said as he watched out the back window.

Just as he said that a brick hit the side of the car.

“Whoa. This is crazy.”

“Tell the motorcade to pick up the pace,” the President ordered.

***

“He is almost here. They are on 1st Street,” Waters heard in his ear piece.

“Copy,” was all he said.

A few seconds later, lights flashing and sirens blaring the motorcade stopped in front of the Capital Building.  Secret Service agents took up their positions.

“Here we go,” Adams said, “Cole's car is right behind us.  Remember to stop and let her catch up.”

“I’m not an imbecile Adam. I know what I am supposed to do.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

“It’s okay. We are all a little nervous,” Quasim said.

An agent opened the door and the President got out. He could hear jeers and cheers. At least that’s what he wanted to believe.

“Ready Mr. President?" one of the tall agents asked.

“Let’s wait for the Secretary of State. We can all walk together.”

“Yes sir,” he replied. “One is waiting for Three,” the agent said into his lapel microphone.

Hanna Cole stopped when she got to the President and they shook hands. It was a good photo op for the press that was crowded around the steps to the Capital Building. After a few words, they started up the steps.

They were on the third step when ‘GUN’ was shouted and then a gunshot rang out. Agents rushed around the President, shoving his head down and immediately starting him back toward the car. Both the President and Secretary of state were pushed into the back seat of the limo.  Agents were swarming everywhere. The limo took off following four motorcycles. They raced down 1st Street and turned right on to Independence Avenue. The limo raced to 3rd Street where it turned right. Lights were flashing as the motorcycles stopped traffic. They turned left on Pennsylvania and raced to the White House.

***

“Gun,” Agent Waters had yelled into his microphone. The man on the third step had unzipped his jacket and was taking out a gun. Agent Waters drew his weapon and fired. The bullet struck the man in the neck and the second one tore into his jaw. He was dead before he reached the ground.

“Shooter is down,” he said and rushed over to the man. He quickly moved the gun with his foot and reached down to check for a pulse. It was more for show than anything. He could see that a large section of the back of the man’s head was missing.

Other agents came rushing up, forming a shield around the dead gunman and Agent Waters.

Agent Lakeland knelt down beside Waters. He checked the man briefly and pulled out his wallet. His driver’s license stated him name as Josh Goodman. He scanned through the billfold quickly. He wanted to make sure Goodman didn’t have anything he shouldn’t.

The area was quickly cleared and the photographers were herded out of the area. Even the protesters knew something had happened and were mostly quiet.

***

NBC NEWS – We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin from the White House. The camera cut to the Presidential Seal and dais that was lined with microphones. People were shuffling around for a few seconds before Kendra Cox, the White House Spokesperson stood behind the microphones.

Flashes went off as she got ready to speak.

“As many of you know, at 8:52 p.m. Eastern Standard Time a gunman made an attempt on either the President of the United States or Secretary of State, Hanna Cole. It appears at this time that he was acting alone. Agent Waters saw the man reach into his jacket and pull out a gun,” she paused briefly, looking out over the audience.

“Agent Waters reacted immediately and pulled his weapon and fired at the gunman twice. Both bullets struck the victim. At this time there is little to go on. It is believed however, that this was the act of one man. The President and Secretary of State were immediately rushed back to the White House. President Quasim suffered a slight cut on his forehead as he was rushed into the car. Doctor Orvin is with the President checking on him and the Secretary of State.

We will share further developments as soon as they are available,” she said and stepped back from the microphone.

Questions were shouted to her immediately.

“Yes, Andy?” she said pointing to a journalist near the front.

“Has it been determined how the shooter gained access to the press area?”

“No but it is one of the things we are looking into. He shouldn’t have been in that area and yet he was.”

“Jane Hartman, The Times. You said the doctor was with the President and Secretary of State and that President Quasim had suffered a cut to the head. How serious is his condition and was Secretary of State, Hanna Cole, injured in any way?”

“The report I received was just that the President was being checked over as a precaution. Secretary of State Hanna Cole did not receive any injuries. That information could change but that is what we were told at the last briefing.”

Several more had questions but after a while they became redundant and Kendra Cox ended the news conference.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Agent Waters, Agent Lakeland, that was just perfect. Congratulations on a magnificent performance,” the President said.

“Well done,” Cole added.

“Thank you Mr. President, Madam Secretary. Sorry about the bump on your head.”

“Oh heavens that wasn’t your fault. The other agents had no way of knowing it wasn’t for real. They were just doing their jobs.”

“We will be releasing more details about the shooter and his affiliations later this afternoon.”

“Excellent. Thank you again.”

“Our pleasure,” Lakeland said and they were shown out of the room.

After the door had closed Cole asked, “What do you think?”

“I think we can trust Waters but I’m not sure about Lakeland. He could be the type to try to use this to his advantage at some point.”

“I agree. He seems shifty to me. Something about him makes me not trust him. Waters seems okay,” she replied.

“One thing for certain, they did a bang up job. The press has really played this up and even the administration’s approval rating has gone up.”

“Nothing like an averted crisis to make people feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“Waters also saved us a cool two million dollars as well. That poor dumb schmuck thought he was going to just fade away and live happily ever after,” Cole said.

“I hated to see it come to that,” Vice President Jason said softly.

“At this point I don’t care what it takes. We need to be riding a high when we start Operation Clean Sweep in two days,” the President replied.

“I hope they carry this off with a minimum of trouble.  The last thing we need is a lot of dead or wounded private gun owners,” Cole said.

“No doubt there will be a few, but hopefully we will be able to keep it manageable.”

“The press conference scheduled for the 4th should help some. People will hopefully better understand your concerns after you give your speech,” Cole said.

“Yes, I think it is pretty powerful. Erin and Ted have been working on it and have tweaked it a little more. I hope it sets the stage for our action.”

“God help us if it doesn’t,” Cole replied.

***

General Adams had gathered his top men and listened while they reported the progress. He would stop every once in a while and write something down or ask for a clarification.

“So we know for certain that we have at a minimum of 80,000 guns hidden and at our disposal.”

“Yes sir. Probably closer to 95,000. The gun stores that we have contacted will not clear their inventory out until after their stores close on Saturday. They will be taking them to various storage facilities and warehouses.”

“What about other weapons?” the General asked.

“We have one hundred and three Stinger missiles, sixty Javelins and thirty-two Mark 153 SMAWs. Fourteen .50 Cal machine guns and a few RPG 32’s.

“We will need a hell of a lot more than that once this thing starts or it will be over before we can establish a front.”

“Yes sir.  Major Frank Kerns has been drawing up plans to raid several weapons bases.  Right now they have targeted seven facilities. They will do this while the government is carrying out its raids on private citizens.”

“Do you have a list?”

“Yes sir,” Major Alice Frans replied, handing him a typed list.

General Adams read down the short list:

Hill Air Force Base/Utah Testing Grounds– Ogden, UT

Naval Surface Warfare Center– Dahlgren, VA

Pentex Plant- Amarillo, TX

Holston Ammunition Plant- Kingston, TN

Savannah River Site- Aiken, SC

Newport Weapons Facility- Newport, RI

Minot AFB- Minot, ND

“Hell of a lot of weapons stored in these facilities. If they can pull it off, it would be a huge help,” General Adams said.

“Major Kerns is fairly certain that with the element of surprise and the base security weakened due to having men pulled out to help with the government’s raid, it will offer an opportunity to pull a Clean Sweep Operation of our own.

“We don’t know how many civilians got the NRA email and text message they sent out. Hopefully a great many of them.  Of course they will have a lot harder time hiding their guns but still a lot of them will be resourceful enough.”

“Does the government intend to arrest owners that don’t turn over their guns?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it is possible but they would have a hell of a problem on their hands. What would they do with all of them? I don’t see how they could hold them for very long.”

“We should find a way to contact them if they are arrested and then released. Let them know how to join up with our militia,” Major Frans said.

“Good. That’s an excellent idea. Have Colonel Ashford get some people on that. Maybe he can figure out a way to let not only those people know but other gun owners as well.”

“Colonel Yar is ready to seize radio stations in fifty major cities. They will go on the air to start broadcasting at 06:00.”

The General took off his glasses and laid them on the desk.  He took a large drink of coffee and sighed.

“You know Major Frans, nothing good is going to come out of all of this. I wish there was some other way to stop this madness.”

“Sir, we are not creating this, the administration is.”

“That’s only partly true. We don’t have to fight them on this. We could just let it happen and then get people in the right positions to undo what this administration has done.  We could stay within the framework of the law.”

“Sir, the 2nd amendment is within the framework. The Constitution is what our whole country is based on. If we give up one part then it opens the door for the rest to be disassembled as well. They have backed us into a corner.  We have no other choice,” Major Frans said.

“Well I suppose at this point it is too late anyway. In less than 48 hours they will commit the biggest crime since 9/11. I agree we have to follow this course but I don’t have to like it.”

“None of us do General.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CBS NEWS – CBS has learned that the assassination attempt on President Quasim was the work of a lone gunman. The police, working in conjunction with the Secret Service, have released further details.

The gunman’s name is Terry Lang, forty-eight years old from Kalin, Illinois. The police have learned that Lang had just gone through a bitter divorce and had lost his job.

Last week he received an eviction notice from his landlord for failure to pay his rent. It is believed that Lang had purchased the handgun just a few days before he took a bus to Washington D.C. He was staying at a homeless shelter in suburbs of Washington.

Lang has been described as a loner who seldom spoke and had no friends that anyone was aware of. According to the police, he dropped out of sight right after his eviction and has not been in contact with any family members.

While the actual target is unknown, it is highly likely that his attempt was on the President. Details about how he managed to get so close to the President are still being investigated. So far there is no evidence of Lang having received any outside assistance.

The gun was a 9mm Kinford, a semi-automatic that holds 14 rounds. The gun is highly modified for accuracy. So far the police have not been able to trace where Lang got the gun. According to Metro Police Chief Sellers, it was probably obtained at a gun show where paperwork is seldom completed or sales recorded. A large gun show was held at the Kalin Fairgrounds just a week before he boarded the bus to Washington.

President Quasim has been a staunch advocate of removing guns from private individuals. A source in the White House said the President was more convinced than ever that Americans would be a lot safer if guns were allowed only to military and police personnel.

Other anti-gun advocates have spoken out harshly against private ownership of all types of guns. They plan to make a major push to change the intent of the 2nd Amendment. The White House has promised to help with this cause.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Three, two, one, go.”

The camera cut to the President sitting at his desk. A bandage was prominently placed on his forehead.

“Good evening my fellow Americans. I wanted to wish our country a Happy Birthday and bright tomorrow. As you know the planned address to the nation was interrupted when two Secret Service men were able to halt what is believed to have been an assassination attempt.”

“Because of the heroic actions of the agents, I am here tonight to talk about the increasing violence sweeping across this great nation. Last year 8,770 people were killed by firearms. 8,770 people murdered by weapons that have no other purpose than to kill.”

“In California 69.4% of murders were committed by handguns alone. Firearm murders were up 7% in New York. 805 people lost their lives to firearms in Texas. This cannot continue. America cannot continue to idly sit by when we have statistics like these.”

“It is entirely possible that I or Secretary of State Hanna Cole could have been one of those statistics. An innocent bystander could have well been killed or maimed. We must take bold action to eliminate this spiraling murder rate with firearms.”

“This administration is prepared to take drastic steps to ensure the safety of all Americans. We will not be influenced by the NRA or other pro-gun advocates. Our mission is to eliminate firearms from the homes of Americans and to make this nation a safer place for all of us.”

He continued to drone on for another twenty minutes before he finally wrapped it up.

“Thank you and God Bless America”

Fade out.

“Now a rebuttal by Majority Leader Jason Hastings”

“Well as you saw, the White House’s agenda is clearly to void the meaning and intent of the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution of the United States.”

“In typical fashion for this administration the statistics they quoted were far from the truthful figures. For the record, deaths from firearms has been falling every year since 2005. There were 10,158 deaths in 2005 and as you heard the President say 8,770 last year. States with the toughest gun laws have the highest murder by firearms numbers. California, one of the hardest states in which to obtain a fire arm, has the highest murder rate by guns.  New York, another anti-gun state had the second highest amount of deaths attributed to guns. By taking the guns out of the hands of law abiding citizens, the ability to protect oneself or one's family will become a thing of the past. No one can come to your immediate aid when someone breaks into your home.”

“Tonight we witnessed an administration that is thumbing its nose at the Constitution of the United States of America. They feel they know more and do not have to abide by the guaranteed freedoms the authors of the Constitution bestowed upon the citizens of this nation. If they are allowed to change the meaning of the 2nd Amendment, where will it stop? With the 2nd Amendment gone, how do you protect the rest of the Constitution?”

“Americans, do not be fooled by the intent of the Administration. This isn’t only about gun control but about absolute power.”

***

“Geez, I hate that man,” the President said while watching the Majority Leader's rebuttal.

“We expected as much. Look, the important thing is that you got the message out there. We are not going to sit on our hands on this issue,” Homeland Security Director Adam Little said.

“I just hate the swipe about the statistics.”

“Well, he is right. Gun murders are falling every year.”

The President shot him a dirty look.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway it won’t be much longer now. Any changes in plans for Monday night?”

“No sir. Everyone is pretty much in place for the 4th of July celebrations. The military men and women will be phased in as part of the parades.”

“I hope this comes off with a minimum of loss of life.  The last thing we need is for someone to get out of control and start shooting civilians.”

“Sir, everything that can be done has been done by now.  Once we turn them loose, we will no longer have direct control. We will just have to hope for the best.”

“That’s what I am worried about,” the President replied.

***

“Admiral Greenfield’s office.”

“Tell that old goat that it’s Amblin.”

“Yes sir General, I’ll let him know.”

“Old goat? Boy that takes a lot of nerve coming from a guy two years older than me.”

“Eighteen months and we’re both old goats.”

“Isn’t that the truth? I know what you are calling about.  I got the same briefing from the Secretary of Navy just a few hours ago.”

“Let’s do lunch as the business people say.”

“Thirty minutes at the Crow’s Nest?”

“I’ll be there,” he said and hung up.

What the hell was he going to do? He had been in the Marine Corp all his life and now this. He had received orders not to his liking many times, but this. This was something different.

He told his secretary that he would be going out for lunch and to have his car brought around. He stopped and thought for a moment before telling her that he had changed his mind. He would take his own car instead.

“I’m not sure how long I will be,” he told Warrant Officer Bonnard, his secretary.

He walked to the parking lot and climbed in behind the wheel of his brand new Audi RS 5. He had purchased it less than a week ago and relished the opportunity to drive it.  The 450 horse power V8 coupled to the 7 speed transmission was exhilarating. Less than twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking lot.

Admiral Greenfield was already seated in a corner booth when he came inside. He walked over and scooted in across from him.

“Well here we are,” Greenfield said.

“Yes, yes we are. I was hoping that this day would never come.”

“I’m afraid it’s here and it’s not going to go away.”

“I understand MacMillan called you.”

“Yes. He is going to refuse to send people to participate.”

“He has balls; that’s for sure,” Amblin said.

“He said that Frank was going to resign.”

“Frank Warren?”

“Yep.”

“Son of a gun. I never thought he would just resign,” Amblin replied.

“All because of our fearless leader in the White House.”

“Christ, what an ass he has turned out to be. The man doesn’t have the brains of a goldfish.”

“It’s not so much him as Secretary of State Cole. She is the real push behind this thing.”

“So what...”

“Can I get you something to drink,” the waitress said interrupting their conversation.

Amblin looked at her like he wanted to slap her silly.

“Two iced teas and no interruptions,” he said gruffly.

“Well excuse me,” she said and left in a huff.

“Great manners,” Greenfield said.

“Hers or mine?”

“Actually both.”

“Sorry Emily Post.”

“Forget it. Go on?”

“I was about to ask before the interruption, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. I talked to Mac about this a week or so ago and he said he would simply not follow an illegal order.”

“That’s Mac alright. He has the balls to tell the President to take a flying leap if they get him riled up enough.”

“Wait, you said you would do nothing. What do you mean nothing?” Amblin asked.

“I mean nothing. I am just going to ignore the order totally, same as Mac. It is unconstitutional and I will not obey an illegal order.”

“It’s legal if it comes from the President.”

“No it’s not. He does not make laws. Until the Supreme Court determines that the 2nd amendment is not valid in its present form, I will not obey that order.”

“You will be relieved of your command.”

“Then so be it.”

“Listen to yourself. You are going to give up your retirement benefits and everything that goes with them if you do that.”

“And I will not be able to live with myself if I do obey an illegal order, no matter who issues it.”

Amblin looked at his old friend for several seconds. The waitress sat the two glasses of iced tea on the table and took off. He looked at the glass and saw that it had no ice, just tea. He laughed and shoved it aside.

“You will really do nothing?”

“Don’t worry about me. I have a backup plan.”

“What kind of backup plan?”

“I can’t tell you. And before you start about us being friends for thirty years, it’s for your own good. You do not want to know what I plan to do.  Trust me.”

“Christ, that sounds ominous,” Amblin said.

“What about you?”

“I’m in the same boat as you, no pun intended. I’m not about to follow an order that is clearly illegal.”

“So, what are you planning to do?”

“Resign.”

“Resign?”

“Yep”

“Boy that will really hurt them. Yes sir. I quit. Do you really think they give a damn if you quit or not? You won’t be able to get your new car out of the parking lot before they will have someone new in there. How in the hell is that going to change anything?”

“What do you expect? Me to get my men and have a firefight with them? Hell, what other choice do I really have?”

“All I can say is that you resigning will mean nothing.  Of course you can keep your retirement and that part is smart, but in the end, will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror the same way?” Greenfield asked.

“Christ, what a mess. You said you had a backup plan. Maybe you should tell me. It seems like I need one too.”

“Are you sure you want to take that risk?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Something is going to have to be done,” General Amblin said.

“I thought you said you were smarter than that?”

“I lied,” Amblin said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Parades in the morning, bar-b-ques in the late afternoon and fireworks at dusk. People all across America were celebrating their nation’s birthday. It was a day of rest and leisure for most of the Americans spread across the 50 states; but not for all were celebrating. Nearly 40,000 gun shops and dealers were moving their inventory to a safe hiding place. Shops were being cleaned out in almost every state. The same thing was taking place in a little over 8,000 pawn shops. Between the NRA and pro-gun groups they had managed to warn a large number of shop owners. No one could determine the number of private citizens who would respond.

***

The police car momentarily flipped on its siren. The eight men looked up and saw the officers getting out of the car with their hands on their holsters. Everyone froze, not daring to move.

“What are you doing here?” the officer that was driving said, eying them suspiciously.

“Uh..we are moving inventory,” one of the men replied.

“Moving inventory. I want you all to stop what you’re doing and line up facing that wall,” he said.

They all looked at each other.

“Now,” he shouted and took his weapon from his holster.

The men scrambled over to the wall and stood facing it.

“Who is in charge?” the other officer asked.

“Mr. Lamb. He is inside,” one man answered.

“And who is Mr. Lamb exactly?”

“The guy that owns the store.”

“Owner huh? Get him out here,” the police man said.

“I need to move. Is that okay? I don’t want to get shot.”

“Yeah you can move but no funny stuff. Got it?”

“Right,” he said and turned and walked to the door of the store.

“Mr. Lamb. Mr. Lamb,” he yelled.

“What the hell do you want? Where is everyone? You guys think I’m paying to sit on your asses?” he yelled back.

“Mr. Lamb, the police are here. They want to talk to you.”

“The police? What the hell do they want? Sure they are here now but where are they when I need them?” he yelled as he started to the back door.

When he stepped out the police officer was pointing the gun at him.

“What the hell?” he said stepping back.

“Freeze,” the cop said.

“I’m frozen. You scared the hell out of me. Why are you pointing that thing at me anyway?”

“Who are you?”

“Abiner Lamb. I am the proprietor of this establishment,” he said.

“Proprietor. Pretty fancy title. I want you to slowly take your billfold out and let me see some ID.”

Lamb reached around and slid his billfold out of his pocket. He took out his driver’s license and handed them to the officer. The policeman glanced at the information and at the picture comparing them.

“It says here you are 5-10 and 180 pounds.”

“Well, maybe that is a little off. I have shrunk since then and put on a little weight,” Abiner said smiling quickly.

“What are these men doing?” the cop said, still not relaxing.

“We are moving the inventory out of the store.”

“Moving it out? Why?”

“I am going to open a new store further south. This area is not so good for business. It was before the younger people started buying up the properties and remodeling the homes. Used to be you could get a home for maybe ninety thousand. Now? Who knows. I heard some were going for two hundred and fifty thousand. People with that kind of money don’t need a business like mine.”

“Alright Mr. Lamb. Just come on out and wait while I call this in.”

“So call. You are costing me money while these lazy bums are standing around doing nothing. Call,” he said.

When he got back to the car he said to his partner, “What do you think?”

“Ah it’s nothing. He is right, this neighborhood don’t need a pawn shop stuck in it. Hell it’s just good business to move to the south side. That’s where people are hurting.”

“Alright. I’ll tell him they can get back to work. We won’t have to do any paperwork if we don’t call it in.”

“Hey, I’m good with that.”

Within a few minutes the men were back at work, emptying the store of a large amount of guns. Nothing else was removed. Mr. Lamb had no intentions of moving out of the neighborhood. His building continued to be worth more everyday he held out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Mr. President, they are waiting for your word.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Damn it all. Am I doing the right thing?”

“Sir, you have already made your case clear.  This is the best action. Just think how many lives will be saved by getting guns off the streets.”

“Oh hell, you know that’s not really going to happen. Do you think we are going to get them out of the hands of the most likely offenders? Those that kill and rob? No. They don’t register their guns.”

“We have been over that a hundred times. It will take longer to get those but we will in time. Those types of people are not very smart to begin with.”

“Yes, you're right. It could all just go so wrong.”

“I don’t mean to be flippant Mr. President, but that’s why you get paid the big bucks. You are the one to make the hard decisions. This is one of them.”

“Sarah I know you are right but...oh hell, everything is in place. Now is the time if we are ever going to do it. Tell them to go ahead and start Operation Clean Sweep.”

“Yes sir. I’ll take care of it immediately,” she said and left the room.

The President sat down in the big chair behind his desk.  He just hoped that this could be carried off with little or no bloodshed. He knew it was almost impossible but he could hope couldn’t he?

***

“Police,” a voice shouted and the front door was suddenly broken open. Three men with assault weapons rushed through the house until they came to the bedroom door. One man came in followed by the others immediately.

The woman screamed

The man shouted “What the hell?”

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” he yelled over the screaming woman.

“This is the police no one is going hurt you,” the man said trying to calm down the woman.

Someplace in the next room a baby started crying.

“Oh God. They have Bennie,” she screamed in near hysterics.

“What do you want?” the man asked, pulling his wife close to him and trying to calm her down.

“You have firearms. By order of the President we are to confiscate them immediately.”

“Firearms? What firearms?”

“You are John Allen Silvers is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You have three handguns. A Glock 22, Walther P22 and a Colt 1911.”

“Had. I got rid of them when the baby was born. It was too big a risk to have them in our home.”

“You sold them?”

“No. I turned them in when they had the gun collection here a few months ago. Anyone that wanted to get rid of guns turned them in to the police. You should know that.”

“Sir, we are going to have to search the premises. Our instructions are to make sure no weapons remain with private citizens.”

“Well look all you want, I don’t have any. Now if you don’t mind my wife would like to go get the baby,” the man said.

In areas all across the nation similar actions were being carried out. Some were successful but hundreds of thousands came up empty. Gun owners had removed and hidden their handguns and rifles. A few resisted and ended in a firefight.

***

“Okay, this guy has ten rifles and seven hand guns registered to him. I want you all to be really careful when we approach the house,” the leader said.

“Let’s just get this done. We are running behind,” one of the others said.

“Better to take our time than get shot. Everyone stay alert,” the leader said and gave the signal to head up the driveway.

The leader had taken no more than two steps when he was thrown back, his gun flying through the air.

“Shooter,” someone yelled and they all flattened and pointed their weapons toward the house.

Another shot reverberated in the night air and one of the others grunted and dropped his rifle.

“Anyone have an eye on him?”

A chorus of ‘no' came back.

A third shot found its mark and another officer dropped his weapon. They were getting picked off one at a time but no one knew where the shooter was.

“We need backup” one of the men yelled.

“Get to the car and call for help.”

The officer ran toward the car and had just put his hand on the door when he was thrown against the side of the car and slumped to the ground.

“Fall back. Find something to get behind and fall back.  He must have a night scope.”

The officers slithered back toward the cars but one more went down before they all made it.

“Jesus. That guy can shoot.”

“I hope you don’t admire that son of a bitch,” the new leader said.

“I never once saw where the shots came from. Did any of you?” the man said, ignoring the new leader's comment.

No one had seen a thing.

“He must have a flash hinderer on the thing as well. Can’t tell which direction it was coming from.”

“Give me the bullhorn. I’m tired of this crap,” the new leader said.

The bullhorn was passed to him and he quickly tested to make sure it worked.

He stuck his head up over the fender and said, “This is the police. We are hereby order of the President of the United States. You are here by ordered to put down your weapon and surrender. The house is surrounded by agents. You need to end this now.”

He ducked back down and waited. Nothing. Just the wind blowing through the trees.

“Damn it. We are going to have to smoke him out. Get ready to fire a tear gas canister through one of the windows.”

“Yes sir.”

The leader picked up the bullhorn and raised up.

“This is your last chance. You need to come out with your hands up or we will be forced to come and bring you out.”

The bullhorn flew up in the air and the leader's head snapped back. The bullhorn bounced off the hood of the car and the leader's head bounced off the hard pavement.

“Shit. This is crazy. This guy could take us all out. I’m out of here,” he said and slowly climbed in one of the cars. Two more agents jumped in with him and they roared off into the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“We have wasted enough time here. We are falling behind schedule.”

“Look Richard, the guy is scared. Hell it’s 2:30 a.m. and we are yelling at him to come out with his hands up. He has no idea what this is about.”

“I told him it was an order from the President,” he shot back.

“Yeah but how would you react? He has his family in there and he doesn’t have a clue what this is about.”

“Then all he has to do is come on out. We can’t keep slowing down like this. We still have fifty more houses we are responsible for.”

“Let me go up and talk to him through the door. The bullhorn is just freaking the guy out.”

Richard thought for a few seconds. Okay, you can try but you have only three minutes and then we are going to breach the house. Understand?”

“Got it,” he said and laid his gun down across the hood of the car.

“You’re not taking it?” Richard said, nodding toward the gun.

“It will be better this way. He will know I’m unarmed.”

“That’s just dumb,” Richard muttered.

The officer walked up to the porch and rang the bell. No one stirred.

“Mr. Winters. This is officer Billings. Look, I know you don’t know what’s going on but we are here on orders from the President of the United States. Agencies all across America have been ordered to confiscate all firearms. Mr. Winters the others are getting impatient. You need to open the door and let us get on with it. No harm will come to you or your family.”

“This is America isn’t it?” Winters voice came through the door.

“Yes Mr. Winters but this is a direct order from the President.”

“You’re not the Nazis are you?”

“Come on. You know we are just doing our job.”

“Ha, I think that line has already been used by the SS in Germany.”

“Look. Our boss is getting pissed. Why don’t we do this peacefully? Just open the door and let’s get this all over with.”

“Sure,” Winters said and opened the door.

Billings was looking into the barrel of a 12 gauge shotgun.

“Come on in,” he said gesturing with the gun.

“This is not good. Mr. Winters, think about this. So far nothing bad has happened but if you shoot me all hell is going to break loose.”

“Just keep your hands up and drop to your knees,” Winters directed.

“Don’t do this. It will end badly.”

“This is America you shit. Police don’t threaten honest citizens. My guns are totally legal. You have no right to try to take them from me. The 2nd Amendment gives me that right and no stinking President is going to take that away from me.”

“Are you willing to die for that right?”

“You’re damn right. I am a free man and you and your kind will not put the yoke of tyranny on me.”

A grenade broke the glass in the front room and the flash-bang exploded. Winters tried to stay on his feet but the percussion caused him to fall back. The door burst open and four men rushed in the room.

“Gun,” one of them shouted and they started firing.

Bullets tore into the flesh of Winters but not before he pulled the trigger. The slug from the 12 gauge ripped into the arm of one of the men slicing it nearly off his body.

It was only 02:33 and the first civilian was already dead. Many more on both sides would lose their lives before the night was over.

***

“How bad is it?” the President asked.

“Reports are still coming in but the initial count is two hundred and fifty-seven civilians killed, one hundred and sixty-two wounded. Four hundred and ninety-one were arrested for one reason or the other,” Adam Little replied.

“And on our side?”

“One hundred and seven killed, eighty-six wounded.”

“Christ,” was all the President could think of to say.

He sat at his desk brooding and looking out the window.  He couldn’t really see anything; his mind was so clouded.

“Sir. The press is going crazy. We need to issue a statement.”

“Later.”

“But Sir..”

“Later damn it,” he yelled and thumped his fist on the desk.

“Yes sir,” Kendra replied softly.

The President sat there looking out the window for a few more minutes before he turned back.

“Sorry Kendra. I know you are just trying to do your job but right now is just not the time. I need to have all the details before we give any kind of a statement.”

“Yes sir. I understand,” Kendra replied.

“Would you have Adam and Roland come in?” the President said to Kendra.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Roland Clarke, Secretary of Defense, stood in front of the President’s desk. It was obvious that he did not like what he was hearing.

“Sir, we don’t understand it either. Seven of our weapons bases were raided and another twenty-seven National Guard units. I have no explanation for how the gun shops and pawnshops knew what was about to happen. They were there on Saturday when the advanced teams checked and then just gone.”

“Gone? Gone?” the President said raising his voice.  “Gone. That’s a hell of an answer Roland. Gone where? Damn it I want to know how this could have happened.”

“Sir we have teams out trying to put it all together.”

“And the private gun owners. Over two million of them suddenly lost, or gave their guns to one of the ‘Take Back’ programs.”

Clarke didn’t say anything. Nothing he could say would explain what had happened.

“You add that to the estimated ninty million that we failed to collect from the militias across the country and we left a hell of a lot in the wrong hands.”

He stopped and looked at all of them in the room. Almost everyone had his or her eyes averted.

“How much did we lose in the raids on the bases and National Guard?” he finally asked.

Roland a thick folder to him. The President looked up sharply.

“This isn’t what I think it is?” he said.

“An inventory list of missing weapons,” Roland said.

The President reached over and picked up the folder. He opened it and saw rows and rows of neatly typed weapons listed as missing along with the amount of ammunition from each base. He stopped reading and looked up at Roland.

“Tanks? Helicopters? Missiles?” he said tossing the folder on the table.

“They were well organized. Someone with a military background must have been behind all of this,” Roland said.

“What other good news do you have for me?”

“Well we are not sure about the information but it appears several military bases that were supposed to participate failed to send troops.”

“You mean to tell me they disobeyed a direct order from the Commander-in-Chief?” he shouted.

“Essentially that is correct. Four base commanders resigned just before they were to send troops so the order was never given. Other bases experienced a 40% or higher sick out.”

“I will not stand for this. I want the base commanders that refused to follow orders arrested. They are not going to get away with this,” the President said. His face was red and he was shaking, he was so angry.

“Arrested and tried for treason,” he said in a slightly calmer voice.

“Mr. President, I’m not sure that is the right move,” Adam Little said.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion Mr. Little.”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“And the damn civilians that defied us. How in the hell did they know what was coming?”

“Sir,” Little said, knowing he risked another rebuke.

“What?” the President snapped.

“The NRA put out a warning to all gun owners that something was going to happen. It was sent to every member and every gun shop.”

“Well, isn’t it helpful to hear that now? Why didn’t we know about this when it was first sent?”

“Someone dropped the ball.”

“Oh really? Well that makes it all better doesn’t it?” he said his voice rising again.

“Sir, someone had to have tipped them off,” the head of Homeland Security said.

“How? Only a few people knew this was happening.”

“Sir, more than you suspect probably knew. Everyone from the secretaries that typed up the plans, policemen, military men, and on and on. They all had to be made aware of the plans. No way could we keep this a secret once you authorized the go ahead.”

“We expected some leaking of information but nothing to this extent. We are talking about millions of weapons that we didn’t confiscate,” the President said bitterly.

“Actually we estimate around one hundred and five million all total.”

The President just closed his eyes and put his head back.  After a few seconds he asked, his head still back and his eyes closed, “Can we recover them?” he asked.

“It will take more than a swift raid. They knew we were coming and had already hidden or moved them to a safe place.”

At last the Vice-President spoke up, “I expressed my doubts about the Operation from the first but you people were all so smug. Prohibition did not work. Actually, it did just the opposite of what it was intended to do. Crime was out of control and people died by the thousands. We simply cannot legislate away the rights given in the Constitution.”

“Damn it James. I don’t want to hear that crap again. We are the government and we decide what people can and can’t do. Those citizens that defied us are traitors to this country. I simply will not have that.”

“I wonder if that’s what Himmler said in 1939.”

“That’s it. Everyone out except you James.”

Everyone edged out of the office except Vice-President James Jason. The President's face was red and anger was in his eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you James? You dare to say something like that in front of the others?”

“Mr. President, I tried to tell you from the beginning that this was a bad idea, but did you listen? Hell no.  Instead you let Cole and the others influence you. Had you listened we wouldn’t be in this position.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me. I never heard that you didn’t want to be a part of this. Why is that?  Why are you now doing the ‘I told you so,’ routine now?”

“Do you realize that the House is considering impeachment hearings against you?”

“It will never happen. They don’t have the support.”

“You could be wrong about that. People across this country are madder than hell. Civilians were shot, murdered, according to many news reports. They will bring incredible pressure on their Representatives.”

“This will blow over. We all knew that we would be in for a hit at first but when crime takes a nose dive and they can live safer, it will change,” the President replied.

“Mr. President, this will no more blow over than the attack on Pearl Harbor. All you have done was to wake the ‘Sleeping Dragon’ again. All hell is going to break lose all across this country.”

“You are flat wrong. Adam said we recovered over seventy million weapons. Seventy million. Think about that for a minute.”

“Yes, and they missed the rest. All that has been accomplished is to divide the nation. The war clouds are gathering Mr. President and we are the ones that seeded them.”

“James, I cannot tolerate a split in the administration. From this minute on I want you to take no further part in the conversations. You are to carry on your normal duties but you will be excluded from all future plans. I don’t like it at all but that is the way it has to be. I cannot have you pointing a finger and causing discord. You are to take no further part in any Oval Office discussions unless I specifically send for you. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely. Frankly Mr. President I no longer care about your meetings. I will be more than happy not to participate,” the Vice President said and stood and left the room.

President Quasim closed his eyes and just sat there.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

HEADLINE NEWS – The Quasim administration carried out a national raid on gun shops and private citizens early this morning across the nation. The House Majority Leader called this an act of terrorism; a blatant disregard for the citizen's constitutional rights, and wants an immediate investigation into this incident.

Minority Senate Leader Luther Arnold blasted the President’s action as an affront to all law abiding citizens. Voices on both side of the Senate isle expressed dismay at how the confiscation of guns from private citizens was carried out.

The NRA issued a statement calling for the impeachment of the President for a gross violation of the 2nd Amendment.  Demonstrations broke out in hundreds of cities across America as protesters spoke out angrily about the early morning raids.

It is reported that during the so called Operation Clean Sweep that two hundred and eighty-seven citizens were killed.  Another three hundred are reported wounded. The official number of people involved in the raid that were injured or killed has not been released.

The National Guard has been called out in many states to help control protesters. However, reports indicate that up to 80% of National Guard men and women are refusing to report in many areas. Reports are surfacing that a large number of police and other law officials are also calling in ‘sick’.

The White House issued a brief but tense statement saying that upon counsel with the highest members of the administration they acted within the powers of the Presidency. Anti-gun advocates hailed the action of one of historic importance. Their spokesperson, Brandy Sage, said that it was a momentous occasion and that over thirty million guns of various types were out of the hands of citizens.  She predicted that crime would fall by at least twenty percent over the next year.

“We couldn’t be more happy. This bold move by President Quasim is exactly what this country needed. We are hoping this is just the first step and that at some point every gun will be confiscated. This country doesn’t need a bunch of militia running around with guns,” Sage is quoted as saying.

Senator Strong of Mississippi had just the opposite view.  “This will lead to more bloodshed before this is all over. You cannot illegally confiscate a person’s property and not expect repercussions. All the administration has done is to create a situation that will lead to catastrophic consequences,” he said in his statement to the press.

Protest crowds have been growing and shutting downtown areas as the word spreads of the morning raids. In many cities and towns, city hall has been the focal point of protesters. Only a few arrests have been reported at this time but according to several police chiefs that we talked to, they are expecting more trouble as what one chief called the ‘Mob Violence Mentality’ takes over.  Water cannons have been stationed in many cities as a precautionary measure. Many government employees are calling in ‘sick’ and have indicated they will be out for some time. Others have put in for emergency leave or vacation time.

Mayor Cox of Atlanta told Headline News that he was concerned about the growing number of demonstrators. When asked if he had enough people to handle the situation he said, “I guess we won’t know until something happens. We have a lot of men and women not reporting for duty. I would have to say it is a definite concern at this point.”

New York Mayor Blum issued a warning to government workers that did not show up for their shifts. He said, “I will not stand for a massive dereliction of duty by government employees. Those that report they are sick are going to need proof in the form of a doctor's statement.”  When asked how many had not reported for duty he would only say “A significant number.”

Later today we will be talking with some of the nation’s most prominent Constitution lawyers and university professors to get their opinions on Operation Clean Sweep.

More details are continuing to unfold each hour as fresh reports come in. The action was so widespread that statistics are constantly changing. It may be weeks or months before all of the fallout from Operation Clean Sweep is known.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“What do you think?” Major Frans said as they finished watching the latest news.

“All things considered not too bad. They did manage to confiscate thirty million guns but we increased our supply with not only small arms but some pretty potent hardware.”

“Twenty-nine M1A2 Abrams tanks is a heck of a haul,” she said.

“Along with one hundred and seventy-six Cruise Missiles.”

“That too. Colonel Timmons has the latest inventory figures of what we liberated from the bases and armories.”

“Excellent. I would like to look those over when he has a chance.”

“I’ll let him know. He is on his way back from Amarillo.”

“We are all set for the radio station seizures?”

“According to Colonel Yar, she has her people in place.  She just needs the go ahead.”

“And the internet?”

“Major Fielding is ready to flood, or whatever you call it, the internet with messages about the illegal activity of the White House.  Major Knight is ready to tap into the cable network grid and show the film we put together,” Major Frans reported.

“It sounds pretty good so far. They were expecting a walk in the park. They will get organized very soon and it won’t be so easy. These are just skirmishes. We haven’t started the real battles yet.”

“Then we need to be one step ahead of them.”

“Exactly. When Colonel Timmons gets back I want to have a meeting to go over our next mission.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Frans said.

***

“Are we really going to arrest an Admiral? Shit I don’t know if I can do that,” the young second lieutenant said.

“They are direct orders from the President. It’s pretty clear. We are to arrest Admiral Greenfield for failure to obey a direct order from the Commander-in-Chief.”

“I understand that part. The question is, was it a legal order? What the President did isn’t allowed by the Constitution,” the lieutenant replied.

“It’s not our call. We have to follow orders or we will be doing the same thing the Admiral did. The military can't operate that way. We can’t second guess what our superiors are doing.”

“Yeah, that’s easy to say but they aren’t the ones going in to try to tell an Admiral he is under arrest.”

“Lieutenant, we have no choice. Let’s just get this over with,” the Chief Warrant Officer said.

“Man oh man. I do not want to do this,” he said and drove the car up to the guard post.

“Yes sir, can I help you?” the guard said.

“Lieutenant Bates and Chief Warrant Officer Sims.”

“This pertains to?”

“Sorry?”

“What is your business here?”

“Sergeant Major this is official government business. It does not concern you,” the Lieutenant said.

“I’m sorry sir but it does. The base is on lock down and anyone attempting to enter must first be cleared by the Commanding Officer.”

“Son you listen to me. I am here under the orders of the Commander-in-Chief. Now I suggest you raise that gate and let us get on with our business.”

The Sergeant took a step back and brought his M-16 around and pointed it at the two men.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” the Warrant Officer shouted.

“You will get out of the car. One at a time and place your hands on the hood. I have authorization to shoot anyone that attempts to infiltrate this base. You will comply or I will shoot you. Now Chief, you first. Get out and place your hands on the hood where I can see them.”

“Your ass is in so much trouble you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Chief. Shut up and get out or I will shoot you.”

The Chief opened the door and walked to the front of the car. He placed his hands flat on the hood.

“Lieutenant, now you.”

The Lieutenant didn’t say a word. He got out and did as directed.

“Sir, place your right hand behind your back please.”

He did as told. He could feel the plasticuffs drawn tight on his wrist. The other wrist quickly followed. The guard walked over to the Chief. He took his .45 out of his holster and placed the barrel against his cheek.

“You will not give me any shit, understand. One word and I will shoot you for resisting arrest. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The guard quickly put the cuffs on Chief Sims. He went inside the guard shack and made a phone call. A few seconds later a Hummer came racing up the street and four Marines climbed out.

“The Admiral wants to talk to them. One of our men will park their car and get it out of the way. Did they give you any trouble?” one of the Marines asked.

“Nah. A little mouth but nothing much.”

“Okay. You can go back to the gate. I’ll have someone relieve you in a few.”

“I’m down with that. It’s hotter than hell out here.”

Lieutenant Bates and Chief Warrant Sims were bundled into the Hummer and driven further into the base. They pulled up next to a big white building with blue NAVY letters. They were ushered into the building and up to the top floor.  Two more guards with M-16s stood outside one of the doors.

“First Sergeant Grimes reporting.”

“The Admiral is waiting. You can take the guests inside.”

"Guests" the Chief mumbled.

The room was large with windows overlooking the bay.  Admiral Greenfield was standing there looking out.

“Sir,” the Sergeant said.

“You can leave us First Sergeant. Oh, and thank you.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the two men standing there.

Still looking out the window he said, “As you have surmised I am Admiral Greenfield. I know why you were sent here but frankly I do not recognize your authority. For some reason you seem to think that the President is still our Commander-in-Chief. And while that may technically be true, his orders are illegal and against the Constitution of the United States. That very same Constitution I have sworn to uphold. So that puts us in a quandary doesn’t gentlemen?”

“Admiral Greenfield. You know that we are under direct orders from the President. This isn’t something we can just ignore. We must follow his orders,” the Lieutenant said.

“Did you know that during the Nuremberg Major War Criminal Trials that almost to a man, they said they were just following orders? Think about that a minute. They never said they didn’t kill millions of people. All they said was that they were following orders. What you have to do is stop and ask yourself, what is the moral thing to do? You see it is easy to hide behind ‘just following orders’ but it takes fortitude to say, no. This is wrong. It is against the very principles I live by. That is what I have chosen to do this,” he said and walked over and sat down at this desk.

“Sir. I understand. Honestly I do but look at it from our perspective. He is the President. How can we simply say no?”

“The same way I did. I’m saying no. I will protect the United States against any enemy but I will not allow our government to enslave our citizens.”

“You have put us in an insurmountable position. You know this won’t be the end of it. They will come to take this base. You will be putting your men and women at jeopardy.”

“Gentlemen. I have talked to the entire base. All of those who wanted to leave were allowed to go without any repercussions. No names were taken of those that chose to adhere to the President's directive. The only men and women at this base are the ones that chose to stay no matter what the consequences,” the Admiral said.

“My God man, you’re talking about a mutiny against the United States. You will be tried and given the death sentence. Are you crazy?” the Warrant Officer shouted at him.

“Easy Chief. I am sure that when the American Revolution and the Civil War started the same things were said over and over. There comes a time when you have to stand up for what you hold sacred in your heart. This is where I draw the line. I will not allow the Constitution of the United States to be defied.”

“Admiral you can talk all you want but in the end it will make no difference,” the Chief said.

“Don’t be so sure. Let me read you something that the courts upheld,” he said and opened a law book that was on his desk.

I quote, “The justification for acts done pursuant to orders does not exist if the order was of such a nature that a man of ordinary sense and understanding would know it to be illegal.”

“Gentlemen I certainly consider myself to be of ordinary sense. That order was illegal. It seems rather simple to me,” the Admiral said.

“But you won’t make the final call,” the Chief replied.

“Perhaps not. Now gentlemen, I insist that you be our guests for a while. I’m sure this will all be worked out at some point,” he said as he stood and walked to the door.

He opened it and said a few words to the guards. They entered the room.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind going along with these men I would greatly appreciate it,” he said and smiled.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Mac. They just came to arrest me,” the Admiral said.

“Yeah I know. I got four of them here as well. Almost had to shoot one of them. He went for his sidearm but the guard was able to stop him in time. What the hell was he thinking?”

“Hey, you know. They are just following orders,” the Admiral said and chuckled.

“Have you heard from Amblin yet?”

“Not yet. I don’t know what his intentions really are. I know he didn’t obey the order but will he say no to the arrest? That I don’t know.”

“He is a hardheaded old warrior. I can’t see him going down without a fight. Not Amblin,” MacMillan said.

“Well if you are right, that makes three bases that have refused to cave in to the violation of the Constitution.”

“Any rumors about other bases or units?”

“Just that the National Guard is pretty thin. With units overseas and now this. They can’t be much help. The last I heard a lot of people were refusing to report,” the Admiral said.

“I hope that continues. I heard that some militia group raided a bunch of weapons deposits. Got off with some pretty potent weapons and equipment.”

“Yes. Someplace out there is a pretty organized army that is  ready to fight for what they think is best for the country. It almost sounds like the Revolutionary War again.”

“Except that was between the Americans and the English.  This is more of a Civil War,” MacMillan replied.

“One thing for certain. No matter who wins, we will all lose. This country will never be the same again,”

“Lord, ain’t that the truth.”

***

“Sir, we have to do something,” Roland Clarke said.

“Now there’s a thought. We need to do something.”

“You know what I mean Mr. President.”

“We all know what you mean Roland. The problem is how to handle this so it doesn’t escalate.”

“We have six bases with commanders who refused to obey your orders. Evidently the people on the base were given a choice of leaving or staying. They don’t seem to be doing anything that we can see and we parked satellites over all six bases. Everything seems to be normal,” General Winfield said.

“Normal? You call not taking a phone call from the General of the Army and the Commander-in-Chief normal?”

“Sorry sir. I meant aggressive. They seem to be operating routinely.”

“Well that’s just dandy. They haven’t invited the Russians or Chinese to visit the bases yet.”

The General didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say that would satisfy the President.

“General, what would it take to get control of Eglin Air Force Base back in our hands?”

“I would need to give that some thought. I mean I could throw out an answer but it wouldn’t be a good one.”

“Fine. I accept that. I want you to get with whomever you need and find a way to regain control of our largest Air Force Base.”

“Yes sir. It will probably have to be a joint operation.”

“I don’t care. Just find a way.”

“Yes sir,” he said and hesitated.

“General, is something else on your mind?”

“I just want clarification. You are talking about a military operation that could lead to fighting.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Yes sir. I just wanted to be sure before I put a plan together.”

“Then there you have it. Please proceed.”

“Yes sir.”

***

“Has he lost his ever lovin’ mind?” Lieutenant General Erickson said.

“That may well be true but those are our orders,” General Winfield told him.

“A plan to take Eglin Air Force base by force if necessary, that’s insane. We will be assaulting our own men and women.”

“You’re not telling me anything that I don’t already know,” Winfield replied.

“We need Admiral Swanson from Pensacola. She has control of the Naval base there,” General Erickson said.

“I agree. They are the closest staging facility and we can use their planes if necessary.”

“Do you think it will come to that?”

“The President made it clear that he wants Eglin back in our hands. I told him that it could lead to fighting and he just said ‘so be it’.

“He would actually bomb one of our own bases?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“This isn’t right. There has to be another way.”

“I understand where you’re coming from but unless you can think of something else, this is what we are facing.”

“I never in this lifetime thought it would come to this.  Fighting our own men.”

“I don’t think anyone could have foreseen this,” Winfield said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Eglin Air Force Base covers over 460,000 acres and has over eight thousand military personnel. It is the home of the 96th Air Base Wing. The 46th Test Wing is stationed at Eglin as well.

Eglin has some of the most lethal armament in America.  The planes run from the Lockheed Martin F-35A Lightning to F-15C and F16s. They also house a vast number of tankers and other necessary Air Force support equipment.

The base Commander, Colonel James G. Fox, refused to send military personnel to take part in Operation Clean Sweep.  He allowed the Officers and all enlisted to either stay or to leave. No one was directed to either participate or not participate.  It was simply a matter of choice.

Of the 8,000 men and women stationed at the base, 6,125 elected to stay with the base. The others were given 30 days leave.

When the MPs showed up to arrest Colonel Fox, he simply refused to allow them to come on base. When the Secretary of Defense called, Colonel Fox informed him that he considered the order illegal and would not comply. He also refused to surrender to the authorities.

“How many planes can we get in the air from the 33 Fighter Wing?” he asked his second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Zephyr.

“Right now we can scramble twenty-nine F-15C if necessary.”

“F-16s?”

“Thirty-five are operational,” Zephyr said.

“What is the status of the new F-35 Lightings?”

“All are ready. They have been checked out and are FR,” he told the Colonel.

“That’s excellent. Having them Fight Ready is certainly an edge.”

“Sir, do you really think they will try to take the base by force?”

“Zeph, I certainly hope not but we need to be ready. I want at least one AWAX in the sky at all times. Everyone needs to be at DEFCON 4 at all times. I want to be able to scramble at any time we detect a threat.”

“What a frickin’ mess,” Zephyr said.

“Amen to that.”

“Have you called Admiral Greenfield yet?”

“No. I was just getting ready to do that. You might as well stay while I get him on the horn,” Colonel Fox replied.

“Yes sir.”

Fox dialed the number and waited until Greenfield came on the line.

“Admiral, It’s Colonel Fox.”

“Hello Jimmy. I was just about to call you.”

“Hell of a thing Leon. At least I won’t go down alone.  I understand Mac and Joel Amblin are in the same boat.”

“Along with your buddy Jamison,” Greenfield said.

“Anyone else?”

“Admiral Heathcoat.”

“He commands the Naval Base at New London doesn’t he?” Fox asked.

“That’s the one. Ten Los Angles Class subs and four Virginia Class subs are based there.”

“Now that’s some deterrent.”

“You might say that.”

“So it seems we should find a way of talking. I know you are on a scrambler phone now as am I but I guess with all that is going on I still don’t trust the phones much,” Fox said.

“Let me work on that and I’ll get back to you. Don’t use e-mail under any circumstances,”

“Okay Leon. I’ll just sit tight for now. I’ll let you know if the situation changes,” Fox replied.

“Hang in there. We are doing the right thing.”

“I know but what a mess.”

“You are right about that,” Greenfield said as he hung up.

“Looks like there are six of you,” Zephyr said when the Colonel hung up.

“Yes, I wonder if there were others riding the fence.”

“No doubt. I’m sure a lot of them spent many hours wrestling with this decision.”

“I’m somewhat worried about Heathcoat at New London. He has one of the most lethal forces in the world under his command but not much in the way of fire or air support. I want you to work on a way to get some help up there to him.”

“Can’t he just send the subs to sea?”

“I’m sure he could if he had enough warning but he doesn’t have much for a blocking action if the time comes.”

“Alright Colonel, I’ll go over to 6th Ranger Battalion and get with them first. After that I’ll talk to the leaders of the 58th and 60th Fighter Squadrons. I’ll see what we can all come up with.”

“Thanks Zeph. I appreciate you hanging in there with me on this. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did. It is wrong on every level. I have no qualms about my decision.”

“Alright Zeph, see what you can come up with.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Hurricane Simon slammed into the Dauphine Islands, just off the coast of Alabama. With sustained wind speeds of over one hundred and sixty-five miles per hour it was considered an F-5 classification storm.

The hurricane veered east, sliding along Bon Secour Bay and Little Lagoon before ripping into Foley, Lillian, Bellview, and Pensacola, Florida. The massive storm devastated everything in its path. Virtually everything from where it came ashore all the way to Valparaiso, Florida was damaged or washed away. Two thousand and fifty-one people lost their lives to Simon and the subsequent flooding.  The estimated cost associated with the storm was one hundred and twenty billion dollars.

The newly reorganized FEMA agency was overwhelmed as badly or worse in many cases as during Hurricane Katrina.  Heavy rains and flooding occurred across the northern part of Florida. It became a tropical storm that slowly moved across Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina until it finally moved out into the Atlantic Ocean.

***

“This could work to our advantage,” Cole said.

“How? We don’t need something else going wrong.”

“First, the stories about Clean Sweep will take a back seat. Every agency will be focused on Florida and Hurricane Simon. You can use this as a photo opportunity. Fly down to Florida and let the people see you stand alongside the survivors. Promise fast government aid and make sure we deliver it. It might be good to fire Bailer after you make your tour. Show the people you mean business.”

“Bailer has only been a head of FEMA for less than a year. He isn’t responsible for the problems,” the President said.

“It doesn’t matter. It will look like you are taking every step to help those people. If we can pull this off, people will see that you are firmly in control.”

“What about asking other nations to help? We always send our people to help. It might show our willingness to work with other nations in times of emergencies.”

“I don’t know about that. It could be seen as weakness. We can’t even take care of our own people,” Cole replied.

“I think she is right,” Defense Secretary Clarke agreed.

“Well if we screw this up it will only add to the problems we have now. We have to do something that looks like we are on top of the situation,” Chief of Staff Slone said.

“She is right. We have to respond in such a way that it is convincing,” President Quasim replied.

“How about if we just air lift as many military troops and National Guard as we can round up to the area,” Secretary of Labor Alice Dell said.

“Alice, manpower is not the only issue. Food, water, and shelter are equally important. We have to take care of the basic needs. Doctors and clothing are as important as feet on the ground,” the President told her.

“So we take everything we need in a massive air lift. We get the word out today that you are personally directing the relief effort. Let them see you at the Air Bases, Medical facilities, and anyplace else we can think of. We get water and even those ‘whatchumacallits’ for people to eat. We overload the press with what we are doing every hour,” Dell suggested.

“The ‘whatchumacallits’ are called MRE. Meals Ready to Eat,” Roland said, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever,” Dell said.

“Now that’s a workable idea. We can put out a press release immediately. Start the ball rolling even before it hits the media,” the President said enthusiastically.

“I’ll pull Winfield, Ascot, and Erickson off the other project and get them going on this. I’ll make sure I light a fire under their tails,” Clarke said.

“We need Kendra in here to start on a press release. The rest of you know what you have to do. I want to hit this hard and let the people know we mean business.”

***

Kendra looked at the President askance.

“Sir, you are painting yourself into a corner if you do this,” she said.

“Kendra, we don’t have any other options. We have to get people’s minds off Operation Clean Sweep. This is the chance to do just that.”

“I understand sir but it is such an enormous risk.  Another tropical depression is forming in the Atlantic and it appears to be as big or bigger than Simon. What happens if it develops into a full blown Hurricane?”

“It’s a risk we are going to have to take. Kendra, I appreciate your concern but this is what has to be done.  If I could find another way, believe me, I would. I don’t like getting my back up against the wall either. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. This is one of those times.”

“I’ll go to work on it immediately. As soon as I have a rough draft I’ll bring it by. You have a list of some of the things we are going to be doing don’t you sir?”

“Yes. I had Larson, Clarke, and Dell work on it. If you think of anything that we might add to makes it better, feel free to add it in.”

“I’ll get started. Anything else Mr. President?”

“No. That’s it for now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“I got a call from General Adams last night. He has been meeting in small groups with militia all around the country. He has a plane that he has been using which makes it a little easier. Still, it’s a lot of travel,” Bob Tonner said.

“What about the weapons they raided?” Craig Hawkins asked.

“The way I understand it, Colonel Ashford is responsible for getting them to the right place.”

“What about the smaller militias?”

“Right now we are just giving them the most basic information. We have no way of knowing how many have government moles inside those organizations. They know nothing about our raids on the military bases and we want to keep it that way for now.”

“They are going to resent not being in the loop.”

“I realize that but that’s the way General Adams wants it right now and I concur. We aren’t organized enough at this point to take any big risks.”

“What if the government strikes first?”

“Well, first they would have to find us. Second, they aren’t sure how many of us they would be taking on. Third, they don’t know what the general population would do.  They have their hands full with the aftermath of Hurricane Simon. They won’t be sticking their nose in our business for a while at least.”

“Do you think Abrams can pull us all together? I mean, I like the guy but is he young enough to go the distance? This would be hard on a young man, all the traveling and planning. Can he hack it?” Craig asked.

“Hell, I can’t answer that. I know that the men and women I have talked to are fired up about having someone of his experience lead the ARM.”

“The American Revolutionary Militia, I can’t believe we even have such a thing now. It has always been sort of hodgepodge. Units scattered all over hell’s half acre. Half of them weren’t anything but a bunch of wannabe military men.”

“All I can say is that it is starting to turn into a real fighting force. Even if nothing else happens it has been a good way to organize a proper militia,” Bob said.

“Here is something I picked up but it hasn’t been in the press or media. The White House is trying to keep a lid on it but six military base commanders did not follow the President's orders. They just ignored it.”

“Holy cow. Are you sure about this?” Bob said excitedly.

“Absolutely. I know one of them was the Seymour-Johnson Air Force Base.” Craig told him.

“Seymour-Johnson? Where the heck is that?”

“Goldsboro, North Carolina.”

“I don’t have a clue where that is,” Bob said.

“Kind of in the center of the state but to the east.”

“Well, I sure know where it is now...not. I’m not too good with that kind of stuff.”

“Something tells me you will be a lot better by the time all of this is over,” Craig said laughingly.

“Does the General know about this?”

“Not yet. I just found out today. It is harder for my contact to get to me now. Things have changed and information isn’t coming as fast,” Craig replied.

“If we can contact them and let them know we exist maybe we could feel them out about using that facility.”

“I’m not sure they would trust us that much but it would certainly be worth a try.”

“I can’t wait for the General to find this out. This could be a really significant break for us,” Bob said.

Craig was amused at Bob’s reaction. The man was normally very reserved and always serious. He seldom smiled and went around with a frown on his tanned face a good deal of the time.  He knew Bob’s wife of twenty-seven years had died in an automobile accident because of a drunk driver. Craig could empathize with Bob. His wife had died just two years ago from cancer. He still thought he could see her in a crowd every once in a while. He knew it was silly but he understood what Bob was going through.

***

HEADLINE NEWS – In an unprecedented move, President Quasim ask for the resignation of FEMA head, Todd Bailer. The FEMA director had only been in office for ten months but the President said that the most important thing is leadership in getting every available resource to the stricken areas.

President Qusaim announced that he was personally overseeing the operation. He has already directed General Winfield and General Erickson to immediately start airlifting vast quantities of food, clothing, and other necessities to make life better for the residents of the devastated area. Those hurt or needing medical attention will be medivaced to military hospitals and bases. The Navy has been directed to have the hospital ship, USS Mercy, T-AH-19 leave Baltimore, Maryland tomorrow morning. The Mercy has twelve operating rooms and over one thousand hospital beds.

The President said that he has given the Navy permission to run at flank speed in order to get relief to the Pensacola area as quickly as possible.

C-130J Super Hercules and C-5A Galaxies are being sent to any available airport that can handle them. The Hercules are able to land on much shorter runways. The C-5A needs at least a 6,000 foot runway facility.

Military warehouses and storage facilities are being opened in order to get supplies to the residents as fast as humanly possible. Huge military tents and kitchens are being flown in almost non-stop.

The President said that every means of transportation is being utilized. Navy cargo ships are being deployed as soon as they are loaded. The Air Force will be flying around the clock missions and Army personnel will be on the ground helping in every way they can.

One spokesperson said this is possibly the largest operation of this type since D-day. One thing can be said for sure, all the stops are being pulled out to get relief to the panhandle area.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“Are you guys ready?” the leader whispered to the man next to him.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” the man said.

“Tell the others to watch what they are doing and keep it as quiet as they can.  I don’t want to start shooting if we don’t have to.”

“They know that.”

“Damn it, just pass it along shithead.”

“Buttwipe,” he muttered but passed the message on down the line.

He raised his hand and everyone stood, crouching over.  They started forward toward the fence.

The leader froze when he heard someone talking. He stopped and looked around. It was one of his men. He wanted to go over and knock him on his butt but instead he just stopped the advance. The talking stopped and he waited a few seconds before starting up again.

Ten yards before they got to the fence he had them all lay flat as he slithered forward with a pair of cutters.  He snipped out an L shaped section and bent the fence back.

Within seconds the fourteen men had penetrated the perimeter of the National Guard, 870th Engineer Co. at Crestview, Florida. The driving force behind the infiltration was to procure as many explosives as possible.  The 870th were not only able to construct but to demolish as well. It stood to reason that a vast store of C-4, Semtex 10, and even dynamite would be stored at the facility.

It looked like the ideal time since the National Guard Engineers had been called to help with the Pensacola catastrophe caused by Simon.

The leader had one man stay behind to watch the fence and have it ready if they needed to make a hasty retreat. The others slowly made their way toward the larger building, stopping to check for guards.

Within a few minutes they were just outside the main building. The leader held up his hand and everyone stopped.  He slowly pushed on the door and it opened a crack. He quickly glanced inside and saw no one in the hall. He carefully opened the door and slipped inside. He crouched, listening, but didn’t hear a thing. He left two men outside to watch the door and the others entered the building.

He pointed to two men and then down the hall. They slowly made their way to the end and quickly looked around the corner. No one. The rest advanced to where the two men had kneeled down.

“I hear a radio,” one of the men whispered to the leader.

He nodded his head, indicating he could hear it too. He was starting to feel pretty good about the operation. If they were lucky they would be able to get the explosives and no one would get hurt. They continued deeper into the building, checking offices and doors as they went. They finally got to a door where they could hear several men talking. They seemed to be watching a baseball game from what they could hear.

“Face masks down,” he whispered and they all pulled their balaclavas over their faces. He held up three fingers, lowering them one by one. When he made a fist, the men rushed into the room.

The men watching the ballgame jumped up. Alarm and shock registered on their faces.

“Freeze. No one move and no one gets hurt,” the leader said.

“Man, what do you want?  We ain’t got no weapons to speak of here,” a Corporal said.

“Shut up. I’ll tell you when to talk. Now I want the one in charge to raise his hand,” he said.

No one moved.

“Hey, don’t screw with me. Who is in charge?” the leader said raising his gun higher.

“Can I speak?” one of the other men asked.

“What?’

“You mean in charge of the base or tonight’s duty roster?”

“What do you think dumbutt?”

“Tonight?”

“Way to go Einstein. Yeah, tonight.”

“That would be Master Sergeant Burrows.”

“Where is he?”

“In the bunk room racked out.”

“How many more of you are here?”

“Six all total.”

“Where are the other two?” the leader asked.

“I don’t have a clue. Probably in one of the offices on a computer.”

“You four,” he said, indicating four of his men, “Take the Corporal and have him find the others. If he does anything stupid, shoot his dumb ass.”

“Come on,” one of the insurgents said.

They grabbed hold of the Corporal's collar and led him out of the room.

“You two, sit on the floor over there facing the wall.”

He waited until they were seated.

“Cross your legs, hands behind you,” the leader ordered.

“Cuffs,” the said and plasticuffs were placed on the two men’s wrists.

Satisfied, and leaving two men to watch them, he said, “Let’s go find us a Master Sergeant.”

They located him sound asleep in the bunk room. They had him dress and lead them to where the explosives were kept.  He opened the storage facility under threat of being shot.

“Holy shit.  Look at all of that stuff,” one of men said.

“Go back and get the rest of the men. We will watch the Sergeant and start loading the backpacks.”

One of the men broke off and headed back to the main building. The men with the leader started filling the backpacks.

“Look for C-4 and Semtex 1A or 10. That’s the good stuff we want,” the leader told them.

They had finished filling their backpacks when the others arrived and started loading up.

“Two of our men are with all the others. They are in the rec room. We can grab them on the way out.”

“Good. Let’s get this over with.”

Fifteen minutes later the backpacks were all filled and they were heading to the rec-room when they heard gunfire erupt.

“Son of a bitch,” the leader yelled and started running down the hall.

They were dragging the Master Sergeant along like a sack of potatoes. They rounded a corner and immediately saw that somehow the prisoners were shooting at his men. One was down on the floor with blood spurting out of his leg. The other was behind a cement pillar trying to shoot back.”

The leader could see one of the soldiers trying to move into position to shoot his man. He raised his weapon and fired, striking the man in the shoulder and neck. He went down hard.

“How many are there,” he shouted to his man.

“Four more. The bastard lied to us.”

“Okay, we are going to get you out of there.’

“One is behind that big desk that is turned over,” he shouted back.

The leader turned to one of his men and nodded. He took the Accuracy International SA50 off his shoulder and jammed a five round magazine in it. He racked a bullet and aimed at the desk. Three rapid ear shattering booms rattled the windows. He knew he had hit the target when an arm came flying out from behind the desk. It had been severed from the body.

“The rest of you. Throw down your weapons and no one else will get hurt.”

“One of them went to try to call the police or someone,” his man yelled.

The leader shook his head and sent four men to find the guy. A few minutes later several gunshots rang out and then nothing. One of his men came running down the hall.

“He had already made the call, we need to get the hell out of here.”

“Saddle up, let’s go,” the leader said, “You two, grab our guy and let’s get the hell out of here.”

They made it out of the building without further incident but they could hear sirens in the distance. They sprinted across the grounds and through the fence and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The flood waters had started to receded and for the most part things had gone well. People were sheltered, fed, and given clothing. The Medical ship had made excellent time and had treated over 2,200 patients and had performed 321 operations.

The C-130 and A-5a had flown non-stop bringing in tons of food and clothing. Huge tents that could hold three hundred people were set up and only a few had to be relocated. The press had praised the President’s ability to handle the relief aid.

The military presence was so great that virtually no looting took place. Those that did attempt to steal were quickly arrested.  All outside civilian repair teams had to check in with the military and show documentation of insurance and sign a compliance statement. Shoddy workers were turned away by the hundreds.

President Quasim was on the news almost every night doing something to direct the program. The photo ops were enormous. The Secret Service were even shown helping at one point, working alongside the President. Of course as soon as the photos were wrapped up he was whisked away to a state of the art RV. No one made an issue of it since it was more or less expected. He was the President after all and the other duties had to be attended to as well.

He stayed in the Pensacola area for five days before he was flown back to Washington. A huge crowd was shown greeting him as he arrived. It was the first time in many months that both the media and population seemed pleased at what he had done.

***

Vice-President Jason had been left out of the limelight totally. It was the President's way of punishing him for not going along with Operation Clean Sweep wholeheartedly.  It was also the President's way of showing him that he would not support him if he ran for President during the next election.

The tension between the two became so intense that they practically ignored each other. The only time Jason heard from the President was when he wanted him to cover some function. Even then he didn’t call himself but had his Chief of Staff, Sarah Slone, work out the details.

It came to a head one afternoon when Slone reported back to the President that the VP could not cover a function because of a planned vacation. Quasim went ballistic and immediately called the VP.

“I understand you are not going to cover the French Delegation next week while I am in California.”

“That’s correct. I will be on vacation with my family during that time. I cleared this with you over a month ago and again when you came back from Pensacola.”

“Strange, I don’t recall that.”

“Then you need to check with Ms. Slone. Since you haven’t talked to me in almost a month, I have been communicating about this with her.”

“I’m afraid you are going to have to postpone your vacation. We can’t have the French here and not have proper representation,” the President said tensely.

“I’m afraid I can't do that.  We are meeting my two sons and their families. I simply can’t cancel at this late date.”

“Jason, maybe you are misunderstanding what I am saying.  You are to be here in Washington to meet the French. I’m sorry about your vacation.”

“And I am sorry I must refuse. I will be going with my family.”

“Damn you. Don’t you dare try to pull this crap on me. I won’t stand for it,” the President said, raising his voice.

“And Mr. President, exactly do you plan to do about it?  Fire me?  Oh, that’s right you can’t. You have been pouting like a little child ever since I didn’t embrace your Clean Sweep Operation. You are acting more like a child than the President of the United States,” Jason said calmly.

“You bastard. Don’t you dare think you can do this to me.  You will not get away with it, I promise you that.”

“What will you do? Have me killed like the fake assassin?” Jason said and gently hung up the phone.

Quasim almost yanked the phone out of the wall he was so mad. He paced back and forth in front of his desk, fuming.  “That pipsqueak. He thinks he is going to get away with this. How dare he defy me,” he ranted.

He got so loud that at one point his phone rang.

“Yes,” he said angrily.

“Is everything alright Mr. President?” Sarah asked.

“No. And don’t bother me again,” he said and slammed down the phone.

Jason on the other hand was quite calm.  It was just like that bastard to try to pull something like this at the last minute. Well this time he could go to hell.  He wasn’t the least bit worried. He had already accepted the fact that the President wasn’t going to back his bid for the White House. In fact that may even be to his advantage. After all, after people started to forget the Pensacola Hurricane, they would start to focus on Operation Clean Sweep again.

Of course he had enough dirt on the administration that he felt secure as well. No, he would go on his vacation and just let Quasim figure out what to do. Hell, he was just being a prick anyway. It really should have been Secretary of State Hanna Cole he sent in his place.

***

The President was still angry the next day and everyone could sense that it was not going to be a pleasant meeting.

“What are we doing about these raids on our National Guard bases?” he asked.

“We have put them on alert now that they are starting to be released from Pensacola.”

“So Pensacola is the excuse?” he asked.

“No Sir. I’m just saying that they were spread thin with so many men and women out of their area.”

“Fine. So now that they are back, we won’t have any more, is that what you are saying?”

“Mr. President. I can’t guarantee that other attempts won’t be made but the bases will be on alert and properly manned,” the Secretary of Defense replied.

“Well, I guess I can sleep better now. Moving on, what about the other million or so guns still out there?  Is anything being done about that?”

“The FBI and ATF in conjunction with the local police are going back to interview those with registered guns a second time. They are going to have to provide proof of the disposal of the guns.”

“And we didn’t do this the first time because?”

“Time. We didn’t have time to really press the issue,” Clarke replied

“So the guns could have been right under their noses and they wouldn’t have found them.”

“Mr. President,” Adam Little of Homeland Security interrupted, “I think what Roland is saying is that due to the huge number of residences we had to cover quickly, interrogations were not possible at the time.”

“Damn it Adam, I know what he is saying. That still doesn’t change the fact that we left a hell of a lot of weapons in the hands of those people.”

“No sir it doesn’t but we are in a better position to fully investigate now.”

“Great. They have had three weeks to hide them so we will never find them,” the President said.

No one spoke. Nothing anyone could say would make any difference when he was like this.

“Sir, one good note,” Sarah Slone his Chief of Staff said.

“And that is?”

“Your approval rating is up fifteen percent over last month.”

“It damn sure should be after the effort that went into Pensacola. Hell, they did everything but showing me taking a bath. The damn media was everywhere.”

“Even so, it worked to our advantage,” Sarah replied.

“Big deal. Unless I do a handstand on the front lawn it will be back down next month. People just want instant gratification, anything less and they get bored.”

There was nothing left for anyone to say. The meeting was going to be a disaster and no one was immune from his anger.

“That group that killed those Guardsmen in Florida. What is being done about that?” the President asked, changing directions.

“The FBI has sent a team to Crestview, Florida and are working the case,” Adam Little told the President.

“Working the case. Working the case. Just what the hell does that mean? They know who did it and are going after them?”

“I’m not sure where they stand at this point. I know they are following up on leads.”

“In other words, they don’t know squat at this point.”

“I’ll check the stats as soon as we are finished here,” Little said.

“How clever. This meeting isn’t productive. No one has anything useful so you can go about your duties. One thing I want to make clear. I want those responsible for the Florida killings tracked down. I want everything done to find them and bring them to justice. I intend to make an example out of those thugs,” the President said.

CHAPTER FORTY

“He is in rare form today,” Little said as the came out of the meeting.

“I guess he had a knockdown drag out with the VP yesterday so we get the aftermath.”

“I’ll say this, the VP showed more balls that I thought he had.

“Hey, what’s he got to lose?  After he was cut out of the meetings he knew the President wasn’t going to do anything to help him down the road. Now that the gloves are off he can stand up to the President,” Roland replied.

“What do you think about Quasim? You think he is losing it?”

“Well, he has always been wound a little tight. This gun thing is like an obsession with him. Honestly, I don’t think we can stop people from having guns. Sure we got a few million from citizens but they aren’t the ones out robbing and killing people. The crooks don’t register their guns so you can bet they still have them.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer my question. Is he still in control?” Little asked.

“In control? Hell I don’t know what that means any longer. His mood swings seem to be getting more pronounced.  He is like a rubber ball. Up, down, up, down. Maybe he is becoming bi-polar.”

“Maybe the stress is making him bi-polar. You know, it won’t take much more before the people really turn against the Administration. The Operation Clean Sweep thing is still out there festering. This isn’t something that can be swept under a rug. They can’t put the usual Washington Spin on it this time,” Roland replied.

“All I can say is that if everything comes out, it is going to get ugly really fast. People will take to the streets in the hundreds of thousands. It will be hard for Quasim to survive.”

“I’m afraid you're right,” was all Roland said.

***

“We may have gotten a break,” Agent Crowley said.

“You got a DNA match?”

“As big as life. Bobby Lane. He was in the DNA data bank.  His blood matches what we found in the rec-room.”

“Son of a gun. Okay, where can we find this jerk?”

“We are tracking that down. The strange thing is that his last address was in Valdosta, Georgia. That is quite a ways from home.”

“Maybe he has moved. He might be harder to track down if he has.”

“Terry is working on that as we speak. Rachel is checking for militia groups in Valdosta to see if that gives any leads,” Crowley said.

“Why would they come all that way?”

“Explosives. Not many places have that kind of stuff in such large quantities. They must have known that most of the Guard was down in Pensacola helping out.”

“Maybe that means they had someone on the inside helping them.”

“Humm. I guess we should look into that possibility. If we can find a connection it will make tracking them down a lot easier.”

“I’ll get the personnel files and start going through them.”

“I’ll go talk to the Commander and see if he knows of any links,” Crowley said.

“With any luck we may be able to get a line on these bastards.”

“That would sure be good. The boss is getting a hell of a lot of heat. I hear it is coming all the way from the White House.”

“In that case, this is a good time to be out of Washington and out in the field.”

“Amen to that brother,” Crowley replied.

***

“We got them. The group calls themselves the Valdosta Patriots. From what we have gathered so far there seem to be about twenty or so hard core members and a few that drift in and out.”

“Did you find where they are located exactly?”

“We are working on it. We know they have a place they go to off of Billy Langdale Parkway just around a creek called Brooks/Lowndes. They have a thirty acre parcel of land.  Charlie is working on pinning it down.”

“As soon as they get a fix on the location I want to notify the Georgia State Police to request assistance.”

“Not the local Sheriff’s Department?”

“I think it would be best to leave them out of this until we spring the trap. I’ll contact the Marshal’s office as well and get some of their men. I don’t think having locals involved is such a good thing. Someone may tip them off.”

“Yeah, they're probably all inbred in that area.”

“You know, that’s almost funny. By the way, I’m from Georgia. You might want to keep that in mind.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You do now. Go check on the progress,” he said and walked off.

***

“Agent Crowley, my men are all in place.”

“Thank you Lieutenant Miller. I appreciate the State Police helping with this.”

“That’s what we’re here for.”

“Well, thanks just the same.  Same for you guys. Having the US Marshal Service is always a big boost. Marshal Stern, your people are the blocking group. Some of them will undoubted try to run toward the water. You’ll be in perfect position to apprehend them.”

“We’re set. My people know what to expect,” Marshal Stern said.

Marshal Stern wasn’t too keen on the whole plan. Yeah, some of them would make a run for it but what bothered him the most was the State Police involvement. They were a cocky bunch in his book and he had the feeling that if anything got out of hand it would be because they started shooting first.

His other nagging fear was that one of the State Police Officers could well have a relative or friend in the militia. If that was the case, this could get out of hand quickly.

“Okay everyone. Let’s do this and get it over with.”

It was late in the day and the temperature was hovering around 92 degrees with the humidity so high you could almost cut your way through it. When you add in the ammunition, weapons, and flak jackets it made it hard to move.

Crowley moved the men up to within a few yards from where the militia had cleared out a swath of land. A log cabin and three substantial outbuildings sat in the middle of the clearing.

It was totally quiet except for the occasional bird or chipmunk scurrying around. Crowley took out his binoculars and scanned the entire area. Six nonmilitary Hummers were parked near the main building.

“I count six vehicles,” Crowley said into his microphone.

“Copy.”

“No movement.”

“Copy.”

“I’m going to call them out now,” Crowley said and picked up the bullhorn.

“Men in the cabin. This is the FBI. The place is surrounded. You are to come out with your hands up.”

It was so quiet that even the birds and other animals had stopped moving. Crowley waited.

“This is Special Agent Crowley with the FBI. We know you are in the cabin. We just want to talk to you. No one will shoot, you have my word.”

“You damn sure had better not shoot if I come out on the porch,” a deep voice from inside the cabin shouted out.

“You have my word. No one will shoot as long as we can talk to you.”

“Alright. I’m coming out,” the man said and the front door opened.

A huge man with a full beard came out with a 12 gauge shotgun in his hands. He had on military pants and shirt. They were an older style from the Vietnam era.

“Now that’s a big guy,” the man next to Crowder whispered.

“I’m going to step out into the opening. Just stay where you are,” Crowley yelled back and stepped out from behind a tree.

“Who am I talking to?” Crowley asked.

“Never mind that. What do you want? This is private land.  Do you have a warrant?”

“All we want to do is talk to you right now. We are looking for Bobby Lane.”

“Never heard of him.”

“He lives here in Valdosta. Listed as a member of the Valdosta Patriots,” Crowley said, taking another step closer.

“No further,” the guy said.

“Okay. I don’t like shouting much.”

“I can hear you just fine. Now I told you I don’t know no Bobby Lane. Anything else?”

“Maybe some of the other guys inside know him. You mind asking them?”

“They don’t know him either.”

“Look, we can get a warrant. I didn’t want to have to do that. All I’m asking is to tell Mr. Lane to come on out of the house. We ran the plate number on the truck over there.  It’s registered to him,” Crowley said, bluffing.

“No shit? That must be the one we found down by the creek and drug it back. We was wondering who it belonged to,” the big man said smiling.

“Okay. Have it your way. We will go get the warrant but I will leave the place surrounded. No one is going to come in or go out of here.”

“The hell you say. We damn sure have the right to leave and you can’t to shit about it. Now you get your ass off our property and take your Boy Scouts with you,” he said and raised the shotgun, pointing down the road.

A shot rang out and the big man staggered back, two more came in quick succession, hitting the man. He pulled the trigger on the shotgun and then a massive fire fight broke out. Guns came out of holes in the cabin and from the upstairs windows.

Men were yelling and shooting. Crowley saw two of his men go down but the shots didn’t seem to come from the cabin.  He watched as a trap hole opened up and a guy fired, hitting one of the State Troopers in the back.

“They have spider holes,” he shouted but before anyone could react, four more people popped up and unloaded their magazines on the men trying to work their way toward the cabin.  They were trapped. The men in the cabin had the front covered and the ones in the spider holes could shoot from behind them.

“Break off, Break off,” he yelled into his microphone but several more of his people went down. It was turning into a slaughter. He could see at least ten of his people lying on the ground. Four State Police were down as well, and the worst part was that his people were still out in the open and pinned down. A single shot, louder than the others rang out and he saw a State Policeman thrown back like a giant hand had swatted him.

The .50 Cal BMG he thought to himself. He had to do something and fast. He grabbed the bullhorn and brought it to his mouth.

“Cease fire. Cease fire,” he yelled.

A huge chunk of the tree he was standing behind was ripped from the tree and the roar of the .50 caliber rifle rippled through the air.

“Inside, Cease fire. We are going to pull back and leave. Let us get our wounded,” he shouted. The noise started to die now and finally stopped.

“All we want to do is get our people. We won’t try anything I promise,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s what you told Ernie but you shot him anyway.”

“Please. Someone screwed up. Honest, we will get to the bottom of who shot him and they will pay for it.”

“Yeah right. You can get your dead. You have fifteen minutes and then we start shooting again.”

“Okay, I’m stepping out,” Crowley said and came out from behind the tree. He was half expecting to get shot but nothing happened.

“Everyone, gather our wounded and see if any are dead.  We need to clear out of here immediately,” the said into the microphone.

Within minutes they were hauling the dead, dying, and wounded out of the trees back to the road.  The Marshal had been smart enough to call for ambulances and a helicopter when he heard the shooting start.

Agent Crowley sat on the guard rail. He was still shaking.  Marshal Stern looked over at him but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The look of disgust pretty much said it all.

Nine FBI agents were killed and seven wounded. Six State Police were killed and four more wounded. None of the Marshal’s men were engaged in the shootout. Only the big man on the porch, Ernie, was killed from the militia as far as they knew.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“I want them all arrested and brought to justice,” the President said angrily.

“Sir. I know it sounds bad but you have to keep in mind that the FBI did not have a search warrant, nor did they have probable cause. It was posted as a private area and no trespassing signs were clearly displayed. In fact we…”
“Damn it, you aren’t listening. I want something done about these terrorists,” the President interrupted.

“Mr. President, someone in the State Police force opened fire first. They shot and killed the spokesman for the militia. That’s when the others opened fire. They had every right to defend their property and lives.”

“No one knows that the police opened fire first. We can certainly say that the officer was reacting to the guy raising his gun. We can spin this to make it look like he was protecting the FBI agent.”

“I know this upsets you but I doubt that is a good thing to do. The man was standing on the porch. Someone just got overly anxious and shot him. We can’t condone that.”

“Who is to say that is exactly what happened? Maybe he was making a threatening gesture at the FBI and the Trooper saved his life. We have altered things before. Why not on this?”

“Because we have three different agencies involved and someone will tell a different story. Hell they probably have by now.”

“Counselor, I want something done about these thugs. I want them taken into custody.”

Ralph Larson had been the Presidential Counselor ever since Quasim was elected to office. He had found ways to skirt the law many times since he had started working with the President but this was one time that he was hesitant.  The FBI clearly violated the rights of those men.

“Noel?”

“Sir?” the Attorney General replied.

“What about you? Do you agree with Ralph?”

“Mr. President I...”

“Do you agree or not? A simple yes or no will suffice,” the President said.”

“In that case, yes. Ralph is right. They rushed in without properly obtaining a warrant. That made all the difference in the world. They were the ones in the wrong in this incident.”

The President looked from one of them to the other. His expression showed his displeasure with the entire situation.

“I want Dunlap in my office in fifteen minutes. We are going to get to the bottom of this and find a way to correct this situation immediately,” he said, standing, “I want all three of you in this office in fifteen minutes.”

“Mr. President I understand your anger at the situation. None of us like having something like this shoved down our throats but my job is to make sure the laws are adhered to.”

“Your job is dependent upon the pleasure of the President of the United States. Mr. Haskin, I determine what your job is.  Now get Dunlap and be back here in fifteen minutes,” the President said.

***

“Mr. Director,” the President said to R.J. Dunlop, head of the FBI, “Perhaps you can enlighten us as to why the FBI did not have the necessary warrants.”

“Sir, not to point fingers, but word came down that this matter was top priority and was to be handled with expediency. Our marching orders seemed to be pretty clear.  Get the men responsible and sort it out later, after they were arrested. Actually, from the gist of the message, it seemed that arresting them was the secondary consideration.”

The President looked at him for several seconds.

“You’re saying that it was the White House’s fault? Is that what I am hearing?”

“I’m saying that it was clear that our first priority, above all things, was to get these men and get it over with. The tone was clear. We will worry about the letter of the law later.”

The President sat brooding. He knew it was true. He had personally helped draft the memo that was sent to the FBI.

“Mr. Dunlap, and think before you answer, was there anything that said you could actually circumvent the law?”

“If it you mean did it say specifically that the law was not in effect, then no. But as I said, the message was very clear to anyone that read it. Just do it and get it over with as fast as possible.”

“You lost nine agents?”

“Ten actually. One of the wounded, Tim Snow, didn’t make it,” the Director said.

“With the proper warrants, do you think you could get the bastards?”

“Yes sir. We can do that.”

“Alright. I want this to be an FBI action. Do not include the local authorities in the actual operation. You can use them as necessary for backup or whatever but they are not to be included in the delivery of the warrant. Is that perfectly clear Director?”

“Yes sir.”

“One more thing. I would like for you to personally oversee the operation.”

“You want me on site?”

“That’s what I am saying.”

“Alright sir.”

“Good. The warrants will be issued within the hour. They will be delivered to you. You can start making the necessary arrangement in the meantime.”

“What if the media gets wind of this? I mean having me actually on site is bound to create a media storm.”

“Let us handle that part. You just make sure that these terrorist are arrested or eliminated.”

The director shook his head. This was crazy. He actually toyed with telling the President ‘no’, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. He would be replaced almost immediately.

“I’ll be waiting for the papers,” he said instead.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

A high pressure zone had situated over most of the south.  For two weeks temperatures hovered in the ninety-five range. Several days found record temperatures being set for some areas.

“We should disband and go into hiding,” one of the men in the Valdosta Patriots said.

“No way. I intend to stay and fight. You have all been reading the papers and watching the TV. The FBI has been catching hell for what they did.”

“Donny, that ain’t gonna change anything. You know they are gonna come back but with more people next time.”

“Go.  Go if you want. I intend to stay. Bobby died that night and I ain’t gonna forget it. He is buried right out there by the creek. Any of you that wants to go, well, there’s the door,” Donny said pointing to it.

No one moved. He sat down and started putting his modified Sig 556 back together.

“You got a plan?” one of them asked.

“Yep.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Alright but there is one condition. If you're planning to leave, ya gotta do it now. I ain’t tellin’ anyone that’s not staying. You get caught, chances are you will spill your guts. Not cause you want to but because they will make you one way or another,” Donny said.

He waited for almost a minute. Still no one got up and left.

“I know. Some of you want to leave but don’t want to seem like you can’t hack it. Got a family or kids. I understand.  I’m going to go out back. Anyone that wants to join me, come on back. Anyone that wants to leave, you can go out the front and take off. No one will say a thing, I give you my word.”

Donny, a tall, lanky man with broad shoulders and strength that wasn’t readily apparent went out the back.  He closed the door on his way out. His grandfather had fought in WWII and his daddy had gone to Vietnam. Donny had taken part in the first Gulf War, earning a Purple Heart for wounds received in Kuwait.

He stood there listening to the sounds of the forest. He loved this place and had decided he was not going to let the government that he had fought for turn on him by trying to take his rights away. He had seen what a dictatorship was like and felt that this action by the government was the first step in that direction. He was a strong believer in the principle ‘that he would rather die free than on his knees’.

He heard the back door open and within a minute twenty-two men were standing with him. Not a single one had left.  He nodded and they did the same.

***

The FBI had waited until there was hardly any moon. FBI Director Dunlop had gathered thirty-five agents from his department and twelve from the ATF. They had gone over the plans a dozen times. A helicopter had flown over the site taking pictures three days before.

They had brought Agent Crowley in so he could help recreate a model of the camp. He indicated where he had seen the spider holes. Unfortunately he could not tell them where the .50 Cal. sniper was shooting from. All he knew is that there was one.

Once again they had recruited the US Marshals to use as backup and to block exits from the site. Even then they were not to move into position until Dunlop gave the order.  He didn’t want to take the chance that some local police or resident would stumble on them and alert the Valdosta Patriots to their presence.

The men had worked their way to within fifty yards of the compound clearing, stopping every ten yards to make sure everyone was evenly spaced. Dunlop was in constant communication making certain that everything was going as planned.

“We’re fifty yards from the clearing. I can see the main cabin through the trees.”

“Okay, from this point on you are going to have to try and stay out of the line of sight of the cabin. Use the trees as cover as much as possible,” Dunlop said over the earpiece.

“Yes sir,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Everyone, we are going to move up another ten yards.  Stay behind the trees as much as possible. Watch your noise. It will only take one mistake and they will know we are coming. Okay, move forward.”

Suddenly two horrific explosions rocked the forest. Men screamed and bodies flew in the air. A third explosion ripped the area and more men were thrown in the air.  Screaming and cries for help reverberated through the forest.

“What’s happening? What’s going on,” Dunlop was yelling into the microphone.

“Mines or something. We have a lot of men down. We need...”

“Four more explosions could be heard all the way back at the operations post.

“Son of a bitch,” Dunlop yelled, “We need to get help in there. Have the Marshals go in and help them out,” he ordered.

Machine gun fire filled the air. Dunlop paced back and forth trying to raise someone on the communication set but all he got was static.

“That’s enough of this shit,” he screamed.

He picked up the microphone and changed to a different channel and got the Marshal’s team leader.

“It’s bad. You have twenty or so men KIA. Several others seriously wounded. We are bringing out as many as we can now. The injured are coming first. Have the ambulances and choppers ready to roll,” he told Dunlop.

“Have everyone abort. Get everyone back. I’m sending in the gunship.”

“What? Are you sure you want to do that? We need to give them a chance to surrender.”

“They had their chance. Get everyone out of the area now.”

Dunlop switched channels before the Marshal's leader could reply.

“Air Support One. You are cleared to take out the target.”

“Sir?”

“Take out the damn target.”

“Uh...Copy. Cleared to destroy the target.”

“That is affirmative,” Dunlop said.

Two minutes later the H64A-Appachie popped up over the trees and the pilot initiated the TADS.

“Target Acquisition Designation Sight is locked on sir.”

“Hydra 70 rockets locked.”

“Roger.”

The rockets were fitted with M151 High Explosive Point Detonating war heads (HEPD).

“Firing one, two, three and four,” the pilot said.

“Away,” the co-pilot replied.”

The four missiles slammed into the cabin creating a huge fireball and billowing column of black smoke. The huge boom of the exploding missiles could be heard all the way back in Valdosta.

When the smoke cleared there was nothing left except scorched earth and trees. Many had been knocked down by the shock wave of the blast. Anyone in the cabin was evaporated in an instant.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

HEADLINE NEWS – Explosions rocked the city of Valdosta, Georgia in the early morning hours. The FBI along with Federal Marshals again raided the Valdosta Patriots Headquarters on the northwest side. FBI agents were attempting to deliver a search warrant to the site when several explosions erupted.

An FBI spokesperson acknowledged that the explosions were triggered by trip wires and delayed action bombs. Twenty-three FBI agents were killed and fifteen wounded in the melee. The raid was supervised personally by the Director of the FBI, Andrew Dunlop.

Once the agents were removed to safety by the US Marshals, an Apache helicopter was ordered to destroy the headquarters. It has been confirmed that four missiles were used during the attack which lasted less than a minute.

The FBI is refusing to comment on what was discovered after the missile attack. The number of dead or wounded Valdosta Patriots has not been released.

Several witnesses, who wished to remain anonymous, reported that they saw no evidence of the remains of any of the Valdosta Patriots. According to one source “Even though the explosions totally destroyed the building and surrounding area, there was no evidence that anyone had occupied the headquarters building.”

Two independent sources have told HEADLINE NEWS that no warning was given before the strike was ordered by the Director. When asked if they had given the Patriots a chance to surrender, the Director would only say, “No Comment.”

***

“The last time I checked this was the United States of America.  Perhaps I have been misinformed. Maybe the US Government mistook the State of Georgia in America to be the State of Georgia in Russia,” Georgia’s Senator Zimmerman thundered from the Senate floor.

“To the citizens of Georgia, this was nothing less than an act of aggression. Does the Administration actually believe they have the right to attack Georgia without any prior discussions with or notification of the Georgia State Government?”

He paused and put his hands out for dramatic effect.

“The people of the State of Georgia are outraged. We are hereby officially calling for the resignation of the FBI Director, Andrew Dunlop. We are also demanding an apology from the White House for the arrogance shown to the people of our state. We view this as an act of terrorism that shows a total disregard for Georgians. First illegal raids on private individuals in the middle of the night, and now, outright attacks. If this is the direction the administration is taking, how long before concentration camps start springing up?” the Senator said banging his fist on the podium.

***

The President turned off the TV and sat facing the windows.  You could feel the tension in the room.  The FBI Director sat on the well-used leather couch along with Attorney General Haskin. It was several more agonizing moments before the President spoke.

“What am I to do?” he finally said.

The two men looked at each other, not sure if they should answer or it was a rhetorical question. They both remained silent.

“Thirty-two of your agents have been killed and, hell I don’t know, another twenty or so wounded. Add that to the six Georgia State Police and we are looking at forty men dead. Forty. And what do we have to show for it? One confirmed dead militia and a blown up log cabin. Do either of you have the faintest idea how much this has cost so far?  Of course you don’t. Georgia’s Senator wants not only your head on a platter but mine as well. He is trying to get impeachment proceedings underway. Impeachment. So, let me ask you again. What am I to do?”

“Sir. We had no way of knowing they were not in the house.  When the explosions went off everyone thought they had set them off from inside the cabin. We didn’t find out until much later that it was trip wires.”

“Excuse me Director; I’m not sure you heard the question. I didn’t say I wanted to hear a bunch of pathetic excuses.  I asked what I was to do about this situation. I do not want to hear any sniveling excuses. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Sir. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about I resign? That’s a good start.”

“You want me to resign over something I had no way of knowing about?”

“You were in charge. You are responsible. You and you alone called in the air strike without giving anyone in the cabin a chance to surrender. It doesn’t matter that no one was inside. What people are pissing and moaning about is that you lost your cool and called in a strike in retaliation and just blew the damn place up.”

“They had just killed a bunch of my men. Hell yes I wanted them to get a taste of their own medicine.”

“That isn’t an acceptable answer to the media, to the people of Georgia, or to me. It was irrational. You knew the entire country was going to be watching. For heaven sakes Andrew, did you think about the consequences at all before you called in the strike?”

“It was a calculated risk.”

“No. No it wasn’t. It was dangerous. It put the entire administration in the crosshairs of the nation. It is simply unacceptable. I want your resignation on my desk by three o’clock today.”

“I’ll do as you say. What choice do I have? But let me just say that this is pure horseshit. You wanted them stopped and we went out and did what we were told to do.  We blew the shit out of that building. It’s just a damn shame we didn’t get the bastards,” Dunlop said standing, “I will have my resignation back to you within the hour.”

“Do as you wish Andrew. You may think you are the scapegoat here but it was your poor judgment that was really the culprit.”

“So you want to believe,” he said as he was leaving.

After he was gone the President said, "I guess that went about as well as it could have under the circumstances.”

“It’s never an easy thing to do or accept. I hope I can handle the situation as well when the time comes,” Haskin said.

The President looked at him questioningly.

“When it happens to you? Why would you say that? I didn’t have you here as some sinister warning. I just wanted a witness to the conversation.”

“Oh I understand that part. I’m just saying that my time will come. Everyone is expendable.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“That was a pretty dumb thing for them to do,” MacMillan said.

“Not the smartest way to handle the situation. You don’t piss off a whole state and not expect to get a hell of a lot of bad press,” Admiral Greenfield replied.

“I think we need to see if we can find this General Abrams guy and have a talk with him. He seems to be the guy behind the coming together of the various militias from all around the country,” General Amblin said.

“Rumor has it that they are quite formidable. From what I gather they number over six hundred and ninety thousand,” Greenfield added.

“No way. That’s unbelievable. If that is true, we definitely need to make contact with them,” MacMillan said.

The three men had been clandestinely transported off of their respective bases to keep from being arrested. They were meeting for the first time since their refusal to follow a morally wrong and constitutionally illegal order by the President.

“Where are we on Admiral Heathcoat in New London?” Mac asked.

“We were able to get six hundred troops up to act as a deterrent. Heathcoat was really glad to get the assist,” Amblin told them.

“Good. That should be a big help. Mac, you are helping with air cover as well aren’t you?”

“To some degree. We don’t have fighters up over the area 24/7 but we do have an E-3C AWACS covering the area.”

“So, how do we get in contact with the militia headquarters?” Mac asked.

“I think we send out word that we want to talk with them and have them come to one of the bases. We can work out the details for getting them on the base but essentially that’s about the only way,” Amblin told them.

“I agree. Okay, I’ll take responsibility for getting word to them. I don’t think we should all try to meet with them.  Too easy to get trapped.”

“Okay, you just let us know what we can do to help,” Admiral Greenfield replied.

***

“Where are we on Eglin Air Force Base?” the President asked Air Force General Erickson.

“Sir, we have worked up a plan but it is not only risky, it will cause even more problems for your administration.”

“Hell, it’s pretty damn bad already. What I want to know is can we regain control.”

“Yes sir. It will be a three phased attack. We will use Tyndall Air Force Base for our primary strike force. The Navy will bring in the CVN-75 USS Harry S. Truman as well.  The Army will bring in troops from Fort McPherson.”

“I have seen your battle plan proposal but what isn’t mentioned is how and when you intend to carry this out,” the President replied.

“We figured that you would be the one to make that call.  All we need is forty-eight hours’ notice and we can commence operations.”

“Do you intend to notify them first?”

“That is our plan, yes sir. We will tell Colonel Fox that he must surrender the base and himself within eight hours or we will take the base by force.”

“Why eight hours?”

“Because they can’t put together a defensive battle plan in that short a timeframe. Are you thinking that is too short a time allowance?” Erickson asked.

“Actually I think it could be too long. Four hours should be plenty of time for him to make up his mind.”

“Yes sir. That’s great for us. We just didn’t want it to look like we didn’t give them fair warning.”

“Ah...you’re referring to the FBI’s screw-up.”

“Yes sir.”

“Then make it four hours. That is plenty of time,” the President commanded.

“Very well sir,” General Erickson replied.

***

“You’re absolutely sure of this?” Colonel Fox said.

“Absolutely. Our source is one hundred percent solid.”

“That dumb bastard.  These are American service men and women.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to matter to the president.”

“We are ready and I suppose your people are on alert as well?” Fox asked.

“Everything is in place.”

“I just hope to God he calls this off. If he gives the okay it will cause a damn Civil War.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way. He thinks the earth moves when he moves. He is sure you will back down.”

“Then he is a fool,”

“We’ve known that all along.”

***

HEADLINE NEWS – Andrew Dunlop resigned as Director of the FBI this afternoon. President Quasim said that he would reluctantly accept Dunlop’s resignation and praised what the Director had accomplished.

“It is with great sadness that Andrew Dunlop is resigning as Director of the FBI. His tireless efforts to bring to justice the terrorists that try to destroy this great nation are greatly appreciated,” the President said.

No successor has been named at this time and a spokesperson for the administration said that they are reviewing several candidates. In the meantime, Alexander Sims will become the acting director while the selection process continues.

A spokesperson for Andrew Dunlop said that Mr. Dunlop had resigned in order to spend more time with his wife and three children. No decision has been made regarding his future plans.

***

HEADLINE NEWS – Senator Zimmerman of Georgia and Senator Folly of Florida issued a joint statement calling for a full investigation of the events surrounding the government raid on citizens who were legal owners of guns.

“The President of the United States does not have the authority to raid law abiding citizens at his whim. The Second Amendment cannot be suspended subject to his desire.  There is no place in a free democracy for this type of police state action. He may be the President but he is not the dictator of this country. We have laws, we have a Constitution, and we have a free society. We will not stand for this suspension of citizen's rights. We are calling for the impeachment of President Benjamin Quasim for illegal use of power and failure to act within the Constitution of the United States of America.

Texas Senators Lake and Pen both endorsed the proposal saying that our civil liberties were far too precious to allow such a blatant illegal act to stand without repercussions.  Senator Pen said, “He is not King Quasim.  He is an elected official and does not have the power to do as he sees fit without the consent of the Senate and House of Representatives. It seems he has forgotten that he is an elected official who answers to the American people. We will not stand for his blatant illegal actions.”

The failed attacks and bungled attempts to apprehend those that the administration believed responsible for the attack on the Clearview Florida National Guard Base has raised a fury among many Senators, Governors, and in the House of Representatives.

Governor Benson of Tennessee had some of the strongest words, calling the President “Nothing more than a tyrant,” and his administration’s actions “criminal”. In a televised statement the Governor said that the attack on the Valdosta Patriot Headquarters amounted to murder and attempted murder.

“They did not offer them a chance to surrender before they used missiles to destroy the headquarters.  And perhaps even worse, they have no proof that this group is even responsible for the attack on the National Guard Building.  That is nothing short of attempted murder. This came after they shot and killed one of the members during the first unwarranted raid”

The administration has dismissed the accusations saying that once all the facts are known it will all become clear why this group of terrorists had to be eliminated as an enemy of the United States.

When asked what proof they had, the answer was “In time it will all be revealed. We want to check and re-check every fact before we make a comprehensive statement.”

***

HEADLINE NEWS – Demonstrations in Washington D.C. turned into a raging battle between police and protestors. An estimated one million marchers chanted and called for the impeachment of President Quasim. The protest march looked in many ways like those during the Vietnam War and earlier Civil Rights marches.

At one point police began trying to break up the demonstrators. Protesters were refusing to disperse and the ensuing battle between the police and marchers resulted in tear gas and water cannons being used. A majority of the demonstrators had come prepared with gas masks and many had batons much like the police were using.

Seven protestors were killed, and one hundred and ninety-seven were injured during the four hour battle. Two policemen were killed and several hundred injured. It was one of the most violent protests staged in Washington in the past twenty years.

Organizers for the protest have vowed to return again tomorrow. “This will not go away. The police may feel obligated to kill us but that will not deter our resolve.  We will die free rather on our knees sniveling before a President who thinks he is King.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“Those bastards,” the President said.

“It’s not unexpected is it?” the Secretary of State said.

“Yes, Ms. Cole, I find it very unexpected. As much as I hate the NRA I never thought they would issue a statement calling for my impeachment.”

“Sorry sir, but I’m not surprised in the least. Between the raids and the handling of the militia it would be almost impossible for them not to jump on the bandwagon.”

The President didn’t bother to reply.

“Mr. President, that is not our only problem. The media is planning to run a three part investigative report on Eglin and the other bases that did not obey your orders.”

The President dropped his head back on the headrest of his chair. He sat for several seconds, just looking up at the ceiling.

“We need to have that stopped. Noel,” the President said turning to the Attorney General, “I want you to do whatever it takes to have an end put to that particular segment.  Call the network presidents and use whatever you need to get those segments pulled. I don’t care if you have to threaten to pull their broadcast licenses. I do not want that televised.”

“Sir. That will not be easy. They know we are up against the ropes. They will be less than cooperative.”

“Noel. I don’t want to hear it. I want that damn program stopped. I’ll send troops if necessary to seize the network station. I will not allow that program to go on the air, is that understood?”

“Mr. President, how do you think the American people will react when they tell the audience that they have been forced to pull the scheduled investigative report?”

“They can’t say that either. They just bury the damn thing.”

“They will let it leak that they were threatened.”

“Then tell them if that happens they will find getting their license renewed will be a very difficult procedure,” the President said.

The Attorney General looked at the others for support but none was forthcoming.

“Noel. I want this done today.”

“Sir. We need them on our side, not going against us.  This will only make it worse. We need to come up with a better way of letting them know it is in their best interest to drop the show.”

“And exactly what would a better way be? I’m more than happy to listen,” the President said sarcastically.

“I don’t know right off the top of my head but we should talk about it. Get some ideas out on the table.”

The President glanced at his watch.

“I’m going to my private quarters for one hour. When I come back you can present your alternate plans.”

“With all due respect, one hour isn’t enough...”

“One hour,” the President said and strolled from the room.

***

Noel Haskin and the White House Press Secretary, Kendra Cox were immediately shown into the HEADLINE NEWS CEO’s office.

“Well, he said. It isn’t every day I get an urgent call from the Attorney General of the United States and Ms. Cox.  It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“Yes, well it is rather unusual, I’ll admit but the circumstances are rather unusual as well.”

“Please.  Go on, I’m listening.”

“The investigative report about Eglin Air Force Base and the others is a very sensitive matter. There are issues of National Security that are of great concern to the administration.  We feel that the program can harm certain elements of that security.”

“National Security? I’m afraid I don’t understand. We aren’t looking into the base's functions or how it operates. The focus is on the base commanders that ignored the order to participate in the so called Operation Clean Sweep.”

“Yes, that may be true but it still concerns National Security. Our enemy’s may see this as an opportunity to commits acts of terror on this country.”

“Really?”

“I’m afraid so. We simply cannot allow that kind of sensitive material to get out to militant groups.”

“So the administration isn’t worried about the loss of control of the base commanders, they are concerned about how it could be perceived as damaging to National Security,” the CEO replied.

“That is correct,” Kendra said.

“Just a question, but how do you know what’s in the report?”

“We don’t know the exact content but it is enough to concern the Homeland Security office and the President.”

“I certainly appreciate your concern but this investigation is in no way a compromise to national security.”

“And you know that how exactly? Do you know how many seemingly innocent incidents actually become very real problems for DHS? Of course they are not always apparent because the people of the nation do not want to be afraid to leave their homes.”

“I don’t mean to be impertinent but that sounds more like a suppression of freedom of speech. I believe that is protected by the First Amendment. We have been careful to vet any information that is detrimental to national security,” the CEO said.

“Again, how do you know?”

“We have been at this a long time. We’re pretty sure we know what we are doing.”

“Pretty sure. I’m not sure that will suffice for the President.”

“I’m afraid that’s the best we can do. Nothing is one hundred percent certain.”

“You’re right. That includes the renewal of your FCC license,” Haskin said.

“I see. You’re saying that if we go ahead and air this report we will be denied a license, Mr. Attorney General?”

“I’m saying that a license is granted by the federal government subject to content of the programing the station wishes to air. We have had some run astray of federal guidelines and they have not had their license renewed without a very costly and exhaustive review process.”

“It seems the current administration is fairly aggressive in dismantling the Constitution. The Second Amendment and the Forth by your so called Operation Clean Sweep and now the First Amendment are all suddenly subject to the White House’s interpretation.”

“You can think what you like but licensing has never been guaranteed,” Kendra replied.

“It seems Germany followed this same pattern in 1939. It looks like history is about to repeat itself,” the CEO said.

“This is not the same thing at all. This is about national security,” Haskin shot back.

“Ah yes, the Holy Grail of suspending the citizens’ Constitutional rights.”

“You have our view on the subject. You can do whatever you think is best for HEADLINE NEWS. The decision is in your hands. Thank you for your time,” Haskin said, standing to leave.

“I’ll give you my answer now so you can go back and report rather than having to wait for a decision. We will air the investigative report. We have another two years on our current license. Who knows how much longer the current administration can remain in power. Stranger things have happened,” the CEO said by way of parting.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

HEADLINE NEWS – Governors from twenty-two states have joined in the call for the impeachment of President Quasim.  After three days of violent confrontations between protesters and police in Washington many have lost confidence in the President’s ability to lead the nation.

With inflation hitting 19.5 percent and unemployment continuing to climb, the President’s approval slipped to just twenty-four percent satisfied with his performance.

Senator Benson from Mississippi said that impeachment would be in the best interest of the United States. This was echoed by several other Senators, House members, and Governors across the nation.

New York’s Governor however said that he agreed with the President’s position, especially on gun control. New York’s Mayor Witling went even further in saying that he has never been more in agreement with any administration.

***

General Erickson and General Winfield sat waiting to see the President.

“Do you think he will really go through with this?” Winfield asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. All indications seem to point that way but maybe something or someone will change his mind.”

“Are you willing to go through with this?”

“I’m a military man. My family has been in the military for the past one hundred years. I will carry out my orders from the Commander-in-Chief,” Erickson replied.

“Even if it means killing other American military men and women?”

“When they disobeyed their orders, essentially they committed treason and that can’t be tolerated. I will do my duty to the best of my ability,” Erickson answered.

“I wish it was as clear cut for me.  I see them as misguided but not traitors. I firmly believe that if we could go and talk to them, they would see what they are doing is not in America’s best interest,” Winfield said.

“They had their chance for talk. They sent the MP’s for Colonel Fox and he refused. The time for talking is long over.”

“Like I said. I wish it was that clear for me. It is not treason when you refuse to carry out an illegal action.”

“The President decided it was legal and I am not in a position to second guess him, nor do I want to.”

Winfield decided there was no way he was going to make any headway with General Erickson so he just sat back and let his mind go blank. It was another twenty minutes before they were ushered into the Oval Office.

“Gentlemen. I understand you have come up with an operational plan to seize the Eglin Air Force Base,” the President said without any prelude.

“Yes sir we have,” General Erickson said.

“Excellent. I would like to see what you have.”

“Yes sir,” Erickson said opening his briefcase and pulling out a thick bound manuscript.

“My God. All that for an assault on one base?”

“In the front is a synopsis of the actions to be taken.  This is the full battle plan including time schedules, logistics and battle schematics.”

“Good,” the President said and started reading through the synopsis.

He did not offer to have the two men sit while he read.  They stood there for twelve minutes before he finished.

“And you feel it is safe to use an aircraft carrier?”

“The USS Truman just came out of dry dock and underwent a number of upgrades. It is as battle ready as any ship in the fleet.”

“And it will have six escort ships?”

“Yes sir.”

“General Winfield, what do you think about the plan?” the President asked.

“Sir, all branches worked on this plan. I feel it is as good as we can make it considering the target.”

“Considering the target? Meaning?”

“Sir, it is an American installation on American soil.  Those are our own men and women. If this was an enemy target I would consider it an excellent plan.”

“General it is an enemy target. It is not under the control of our military. It is a rogue element and that is not acceptable. I would think you would understand that,” the President said.

“I understand it Mr. President, I just don’t happen to be very enthusiastic about killing other Americans, especially our military personnel. I would prefer a peaceful solution,” Winfield replied.

The President looked at him for several seconds.  Winfield could feel the eyes burning into him.

“I understand your position, really I do, but I’m afraid the time for a peaceful solution has passed. Having said that, do you feel like you will not be able to carry out your duty?”

Winfield considered telling him he could go to hell but then decided that was not his best move.

Instead he said, “Sir I have in thirty years of military service and have never failed to carry out my duty, even when I disagreed with the course of action.”

The President considered his answer and seemed about to say something else but instead he tossed the plan back on the desk.

“When can you be ready to carry out this battle plan?” he said instead.

“It will take five days to get everything in place. We could do it faster but by taking a little more time, fewer questions will be asked.”

“Alright gentlemen, it seems like you have it well thought out. You can start the process immediately but wait until I give the final order to commence.”

“Yes sir,” both Generals replied.

Once they were outside the Oval Office General Erickson said, “Are you trying to commit career suicide? You can’t say things like that to the President. Certainly not this one.”

“Hey, he asked what I thought. I didn’t feel like lying.  I do not relish the thought of going into battle against our own people. It’s crazy. I never signed on to kill other Americans.”

“Well you had better damn sure make up your mind.  I know Swanson and Ascot are on board. You are going to have to make up your mind. This is one case that no one can straddle the fence. You are with the administration or you’re not,” Erickson said.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

The USS Harry S Truman cast off lines from Norfolk, Virginia in the early morning hours. The Nimitz class air craft carrier slid out of the harbor with nearly five thousand six hundred men and 85 aircraft. The CVN–75 would be joined by three nuclear powered DLGN Guided Missile Frigates and two PC Coastal Patrol Craft. The CGN nuclear powered Guided Missile Cruiser CGN–40 USS Mississippi was already within a few miles of the rendezvous point.

General Ascot had moved twelve hundred Marines to Pensacola under the cover of helping to continue the revitalization of the city and military base.

By Thursday August 9th, everything was in place. General Erickson flew back to Washington to personally brief the President.

***

“So what’s the deal?” General Ascot asked after Erickson returned from his trip to Washington.

“Not much has changed really. He said he would make his decision as to when to start in the next day or so.”

“What the hell kind of answer is that? Christ, every day we sit here doing nothing is another chance for someone to get wind of what we are doing. The whole idea was to get the job done quickly,” Admiral Swanson lamented.

“Any indication that he was thinking about calling the whole thing off?” Winfield asked.

“I don’t think that’s in the cards.   think he is considering letting the Florida governor know about the raid just shortly before it happens. That way the governor can’t say he wasn’t informed.”

“That’s just bullshit. He doesn’t care what the damn governor knows or doesn’t know. Telling him just makes our job that much more dangerous,” Ascot said angrily.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what he said.”

“Sorry but it’s just stupid. We hurried up to get everything in place and how we are just sitting on our thumbs waiting for him to make up his mind. It’s not just stupid but it’s dangerous as well,” Ascot said.

“I guess you could always call him up and tell him that?” Erickson said with a slight smile on his lips.

“You know sometimes you’re an ass,” Ascot said to Erickson.

He just laughed causing Ascot to become even more irritated.

***

“Mr. President we need to just do this. Waiting will only increase the chance that the media will get word of it,” Hanna Cole said.

“I appreciate that Ms. Cole but once we commit to this course of action there is no going back.”

“Why would we want to? They are the ones who put the gun to our heads by not obeying orders, your orders as their Commander-in-Chief. No subordinate can be allowed to get away with that.  Once you show them that you mean business, the others will fall into line. This has to be done for the integrity of the entire military force,” she said.

“Yes. Yes, I understand all of that but General Winfield hit a nerve when he said he never thought he would be asked to kill other Americans. These aren’t foreign insurgents.  Right or wrong they are still Americans,” the President said.

“So you're saying we should just roll over and bury our heads in the sand and pretend it never happened? Somehow I don’t see that as showing not only America but the rest of the world that we will never back down from making hard decisions.”

“I am not backing down. Christ, aren’t you concerned about the backlash from attacking our own forces?”

“Concerned? Yes, but it has to be done. I don’t like it any more than you do but it has to be done for the good of the nation. You cannot have military leaders second guessing your decisions. If you had reason to go to war with another country could you have them second guess you?”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is that different? War is war no matter who the enemy is.”

“Ms. Cole the difference is that they are Americans above all else.”

“Then call the damn thing off before someone finds about it.”

The President sat at his desk, looking at the pictures on the wall. What a mess. Why couldn’t they have just followed orders or surrendered to the MP’s that were sent to get them. This would all be over now. He would be the first American President to order a strike against his own troops. What in the hell will history say about that, he wondered?

Finally he looked over at the Secretary of State and said, “You are right. We need to go forward or call the whole damn thing off. I will call General Erickson and let him know of my decision,” he said.

“What are you going to tell him?” she asked.

“To commence the operation.”

***

“Son of a bitch. He is actually going through with it,” Erickson said after he hung up the phone.

The room was totally silent as each man absorbed the message that had just been delivered. It was no longer speculation. They were being ordered to attack an American air base filled with American soldiers on American soil.

“Okay, I guess we need to get everything in motion. The plan calls for us to begin our opening attack at 0400 hours. We all have a lot to do before then. I suggest we get started,” General Ascot said.

“God help us,” General Winfield responded.

“I second that,” Admiral Swanson added.

***

The phone rang only once before it was answered.

“Scrambled?”

“Scrambled.”

“Word is that the strike is set for 0400.”

“We’re as ready as we can be.  Everything has been moved to a secure place unless the attack is widespread. Then we may have some problems.

“Nothing you can do about that at this point in time. My people will certainly give them a shock.”

“Amblin has his people in place as well. He called a few minutes ago.”

“Then there is nothing more we can do until 0400.”

“Good luck Admiral.”

“God be with you and your men and women, Colonel Fox.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Thirty-five pilots sat in the large overstuffed chairs.  At the front of the room was a huge picture of Eglin Air Force Base.

“Colonel Walters wing will come straight in over the water right up the main runway 01 and veer to the right. You will see a large pad that will have several C-130s and just in front of them will be F-15s. Your mission is to destroy any and all planes on the ground in that vicinity.  You will then proceed north to Duke Air Field where more C-130s will be on the pad. Those are you targets as well,” he said, tracing the route to the secondary target.

“Colonel Stockton will bring his wing in directly behind Colonel Walters. Your job is to do as much damage as possible to the 01 runway and adjoining taxi strip. You will then proceed north to Duke and destroy their landing strip and taxiway as well.”

Once again he pointed to the area on the large map.  Pilots were taking notes and listening intently. This was the real thing.

“Now,” he said, “Major Phillips will take his group and penetrate straight down runway 12. Maximum damage to the runways, taxiways, and any subsequent roads or strips that can be used for planes are to be destroyed. You will then form up and attack the hardened bunkers located here,” the briefing officer said, pointing to the large area in the V between the two main air strips.

“We have the element of surprise. We have the firepower and we have the best pilots in the fleet. There is no reason for us not to succeed in our missions. I know you have questions about the target and probably their air defenses but I’m going to turn that part over to Admiral Jean Swanson from Pensacola.

Admiral Swanson was a tall woman with steel gray hair that was cut short. If she had on makeup it wasn’t noticeable.  She wore low cut black military shoes and had no jewelry of any kind.

“I know that this is a hell of a thing that we are being asked to do. I’m sure none of you ever thought you would be involved in such a mission. None of us did,” she said. Her voice was more husky than most had expected.

“This is one time I wish I was doing anything but directing this mission. However, we did not make this situation. We did not refuse to follow direct orders given by the Commander-in-Chief. The people at Eglin were offered a chance to leave with no repercussions. The Commanding Officer, Colonel Fox, was offered a chance to surrender his command but refused once again to follow direct orders,” she said looking out at the men and women.

She paused for a few seconds before continuing.

“I have a close cousin that is stationed at Eglin. I do not know if he stayed or left. Some of my own family members do not understand how I could direct such an operation. Believe me I have lost many a night's sleep over this day.”

She was pacing back in forth with her hands behind her back. They could see the strain on her face.

“Here is what I do know. For any nation to be protected by the government, the military must be structured so that commanders cannot question orders every time they disagree.  The very essence of a strong military is the willingness to carry out directives handed down from those with a much larger view of the picture. No military can condone the Commander-in-Chief’s orders being disobeyed at an officer’s discretion. Think about that a minute. Can you imagine what D-day would have been like if General Eisenhower had given the command to go and several others said ‘Well Ike old man, it’s a tad brisk and I hate getting wet. I’ll take my men in at a later date’,” she said in a false British voice.

A ripple of laughter ran through the room.

“Crazy isn’t it. But in essence that is what Colonel Fox did. He simply said, I have my orders but I’m not going to obey them. That’s when I decided that this could not be allowed to go on. We are the United States military and we are united in our resolve to defeat all obstacles that stand in our way. Eglin Air Force Base is that obstacle this time. We must show that we are but one military under the direction of the Commander-in-Chief,” she said.

It was totally quiet in the room again. She ran her hand across her brow and looked back out at them.

“I have faith that you will perform your duty to the best of your ability. Thank you for being a part of the United States military forces,” she said and nodded to the briefing officer.

No one clapped or made a sound. They were more or less stunned by her words. Most didn’t know what to do, should they clap or...what?

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

By 0400 pilots were strapped into their planes. The USS Harry S. Truman had turned into the wind and was making thirty-two knots. The Air Boss was on station with his crew. Alert five was already in place as the pilots went through the mental checklist one last time before launch.

The first F-15 was already in the box, the area where the catapults are attached by the air crew. The rest were on the ‘street’ and ‘six pack’, the double row just behind the blast shields. The shuttle was placed under the F-15 and the holdback was attached to the tail hook area. The deck was swarming with deck crew in their yellow shirts.

The ballet started as men scrambled in controlled chaos.  Once the plane was ready to be catapulted down the flight deck the catapult officer gave his final set of hand signals. The plane was brought to full power, the cat officer made one last check of the flight deck for safety then dropped down and the plane went from zero to one hundred and sixty in two seconds.

The Truman was using a new electrometric air launch system (EMALS) which was entirely different from the older steam piston driven catapults. The first four planes launched without incident but the fifth was a cold shot.  The plane did not obtain sufficient speed to launch and slid into the ocean. The crew ejected as soon as it was apparent they did not have sufficient speed.

Nothing could be done. The 100,000 ton carrier takes over a mile to stop so they kept on going. Choppers were already in the air as part of the pre-launch so within minutes they were searching for the pilots.

“What the hell happened,” the Catapult Officer bellowed but no one could really hear. Operations were shifted to catapults two and four while the problem with one was being investigated.

A different type of ballet was being played by the ships that had escort duty for the aircraft carrier. Their function is to protect the carrier at all cost. They also assist in locating pilots who have crashed on takeoff or landing.

Admiral Swanson was on the bridge of the carrier watching the proceedings on the flight deck. She saw the F-15 drop over the bow of the ship. She gave a silent prayer that the pilots were safe.

“Admiral,” the communications officer said, running up to her.

“Yes?”

“Admiral we just received this communication,” he said and handed it to her.

She quickly read it and then stopped and looked at the officer.

“This is real?”

“By all appearances,” he said nervously.

She looked down at the communication again trying to decide what she should do.  She read it one last time.

TO: ADMIRAL J. SWANSON

FROM:  COMMAND OFFICER, USS ANNAPOLIS SSN-760

You are to halt all flight operations immediately.   Failure to comply will result in a strike upon the USS Harry S. Truman.  This is not a drill.  You are to cease operations and recall all aircraft.  You have two minutes to start the recovery procedure.

“Admiral?”

“I’m thinking.”

“But we only have two minutes to comply.”

She stood there pulling at her chin.

“Marcus,” she finally yelled. The XO came over from the navigation station.

“Problem?” he asked.

She handed him the note.

“What the hell? They are going to launch a strike against the Truman if we don’t comply. Are they crazy?”

“No more crazy than we are in their minds.”

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“Recall the planes,” she said at last.

“But we have orders to attack. What about that?”

“We will recover the planes but keep everyone at the ready. Call the Air Boss and tell him to bring them home,” she said.

The XO couldn’t believe what he was hearing. One of the most lethal ships in the world was being dictated to.

Admiral Swanson picked up the scrambled phone and called the Secretary of Navy. She explained the situation and was told to wait while he conferred with the President.

It seemed like hours before he came back on line.

“The President said to continue with the operations immediately.”

“But sir. They know we are coming. There is no element of surprise. Did you tell him this came from a ‘boomer’? The Annapolis is out there ready to blow us the hell out of the water,” she said.

“Admiral the President is aware that the USS Annapolis is a submarine. He also understands that the element of surprise has been lost. His orders remain the same. You are to carry out your mission.”

“Sir. Do you agree with his assessment?”

“That is not the issue Admiral.”

“With all due respect sir. You are telling me that you approve of the plan and that you are willing to sacrifice this ship and almost six thousand men and women. You are alright with this order?”

“Those are my orders Admiral. I suggest you get on with it immediately.”

“Mr. Secretary this is crazy,” she said but he had already hung up.

The XO was looking at her intently.

“We are to resume the attack,” she told him.

“All I can say is that I hope the Annapolis is bluffing and won’t try to sink the ship.

“Call the Air Boss. Resume launch,” she said and when and sat down in the Captain’s Chair and called CDC.

“CDC.”

“This is the Admiral. Give me CDC commander.”

“Combat Directions Center.”

“Where is the USS Annapolis right this minute?”

“Uh...the Annapolis?”

“Yes. You know the big black thing that is getting ready to shoot us out of the water? I would just like to know where the missiles will be coming from,” she said.

“I...I...We show nothing. It is totally clean on every screen.”

“Of course it is. Nice working with you,” she said and hung up.

***

“Captain, they have commenced air launches again.”

“Thank you.”

“Weapons. Ready four Harpoon missiles.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Notify me when you are ready to launch.”

“Can you believe this?” the XO said.

“I feel sorry for the Admiral. I’m sure she called to see if they could stand down but apparently she was overridden.”

“Nuts. There are almost six thousand men and women and billions of dollars’ worth of equipment. He has to know that the jig is up and they are surprising no one.”

“Apparently it doesn’t matter. Hell, he is safe back in the White House. What the hell does he care about six thousand Navy and Airmen?”

“Harpoons are ready Captain.”

“Lock us in.”

“Locked and ready.”

“Have the Coyote’s ready. Once we launch they will try to get a fix on us.”

“We are cocked and locked.”

***

The anti-missile system is ready Admiral.”

“I should hope so. We won’t have much time. The radar range on the Phalanx Cannons is only around two kilometers.”

“Sound battle stations.”

“All hands man your battle stations. Man your battle stations. This is not a drill,” the speakers screamed and the wailing of a siren seemed to get the urgency of the situation across.

A few minutes later the XO said, “All hands at battle stations. Watertight integrity is established. Weapons reports they are ready and standing by.”

“Then there is nothing more we can do at this point.  Until they launch we don’t know what direction they are coming from. The minute we do, I want to turn into them at flank speed,” she ordered.

“Aye, Aye,” came the tense reply.

***

“They have launched all air craft, Captain.”

“Aye. Send a burst transmission to Eglin. Coming.”

“Yes sir.”

“Weapons. On my mark.”

“Aye Captain.”

He looked over at the XO one more time.

“What the hell. They launched. It was their choice,” he said.

“Probably not but it makes no difference,” he said and keyed the microphone.

“Fire.”

“Four away skipper.”

“Acknowledge.”

“ATA has acquired the target.”

“Acknowledged the automatic target acquisition has locked on target.”

***

The phone rang and the Admiral grabbed it.

“Four inbound. 160 degrees, 100 kilometers and closing.”

“Type?”

“Harpoon.”

“Come to 160 degrees, all ahead flank. I want everything this tub can make and I want it now,” she said.

The ship did a hard over right turn and came to 160 degrees. The massive screws were churning to dig into the water and move the giant ship forward at maximum speed.

“50 Kilometers.”

“Any of the support group have them targeted yet?”

“Not yet, 30 Kilometers.”

“Almost in range of the cannons,” she said to herself.

“20 kilometers.”

Suddenly the noise increased dramatically and the ship shuddered as the cannons began spewing out rounds in hopes of hitting the incoming missiles.

“10 and closing.”

“5.”

“One splashed,” the voice said excitedly.

“Two dow...”

A huge explosion erupted followed almost immediately by a second one. The huge ship shuddered and was almost lifted out of the water. Personnel, planes, and equipment were thrown from the deck. Fire billowed out of two gigantic holes in the ship. The carrier shuddered one more time and started to lose way.

Ordinance began to cook off and secondary explosions could be felt as throughout the ship.

“Admiral DC reports taking on water below the water line near the number one elevator. Fires in decks below. Reactors are off line. Both SCRAMED when the second missile hit.  We are dead in the water.”

“I want the escorts to find that damn sub and sink it.  Send every helo we have after the son of a bitch. Find it and kill it.”

“Aye Admiral.”

***

“Two hits sir.”

“Damage?”

“Severe. I doubt she will be able to stay afloat.”

“Our situation?”

“They are sending everything they have for us. The first wave should arrive in five minutes.”

“Helos dropping sonic buoys yet?”

“Just getting in position. Probably the first one will enter the water in one minute or less.”

“Alright. Stay on this course. I don’t want to hear as much as a sneeze from anyone,” he ordered.

“I don’t think that will be a problem Skipper,” the Chief of the boat said.

***

“Three-Fiver bogies inbound.”

“Tell them to hit the burners and climb,” Colonel Fox ordered.

“Roger,” the ATC replied.

“Light 'em and hit the ceiling,” the air traffic controller relayed to the pilots.

Colonel Fox had waited to launch his planes until the Truman’s air wing had gotten into formation. It took a considerable amount of wasted fuel before they were finally ready to start their attack. By waiting the extra time, his fighters would have the advantage of being able to engage longer. Once launched he had them fly nap of the earth to keep their presence unknown for as long as possible. Of course the minute they hit the afterburners and started to climb they would no longer be a surprise.

“Bogies at fifty miles and closing.”

“We are CAVU and ready to engage,” the lead pilot reported.

“Roger ceiling and visibility unlimited. You are free to engage any bandits. Good luck and God speed.”

“Roger. Going tactical.”

“Give them hell,” Colonel Fox said, leaning in and pressing the microphone button.

“Will do Colonel.”

It was all dependent on the skill of the pilots at this point. Nothing Fox could do would change the outcome. He flipped on the overhead speaker so he could hear the pilots and they engaged the enemy.

“Lock on.”

“Shit, he is trying for my six.”

“Fox one, fox two.”

Mangler, he is at five, I’m taking the shot as he crosses.”

“Splash one.”

“Heater away.”

“Highboy, jinx left, jinx left.”

“Shit, Icecube’s punching out.”

“Splash one.”

The chatter went on for what seemed like hours but was only a short time in reality. Several of the carrier's aircraft managed to get through the fighting and unload their bombs.

Colonel Fox could feel the ground shaking as the bombs found their targets. He could hear the guns as they strafed the planes and buildings.

“Lots of knife-fights,” the ATC said.

“The F-16s have the advantage in those situations,” the Colonel said.

“Yahoo. Got the sucker,” someone yelled over the speaker.

“Padlock, padlock. Fox one, fox two.”

“Alright. Splash another one.”

Only a few more bombs fell before he could hear the change in his pilots' voices. They were still on the adrenalin high and spooled up but were more controlled now.

“They are bugging out,” came over the speaker.

“Noting but dots,” another added.

“Tell them that they are to RTB and refuel and rearm.  They may try again. They are to be on alert 10,” the Colonel said.

“All craft, return to base. Rearm and remain at alert 10,” the air traffic controller told the pilots.

“Roger. RTB, alert 10.”

“Colonel sends a Sierra Hotel.”

“Most excellent.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

Colonel Fox had lost six aircraft. Four pilots had been located and were being picked up. The others were unaccounted for at this time. The carrier group had lost sixteen planes and three others were limping back. Eight of their pilots had been recovered.

The government forces lost the USS Truman when she sank three hours later. Most of the crew who had not been killed in the initial attack had been recovered by the other ships on station.

Despite the efforts of the Anti-Submarine hunters the USS Annapolis SSN 760 had managed to remain undetected and slipped away as the carrier was sinking. The noise of the sinking ship gave them all the cover they needed to slip away.

Damage to the runways was minimal and only a few buildings had been rendered useless. They would have repairs made on the main runway before the night was out.  One plane crashed on landing. The pilot had been wounded and just wasn’t able to hang on any longer. Seventeen ground crew had been killed and forty-one injured.

***

It had begun. Americans were officially killing other Americans in an act of war. Lines were being drawn and states and the population in general would soon be forced to choose sides. This was just the first volley.

In 1861, April 12th, at 4:30 a.m. the first shot of the Civil War was fired at Fort Sumter, in South Carolina.  For the next four years war raged in America and nearly 680,000 people died in some of the most vicious and bloody fighting in our country's history.

During the first Civil War an average of 600 Americans lost their lives every single day. More Americans died during that time than during World War I, World War II, Vietnam and Korea combined.

Now the nation was poised to fight a second Civil War. The first shots had been fired, American lives had been lost. Many more would follow.

THE SECOND CIVIL WAR

BOOK II

A NATION AT WAR

Marshall W. Huffman did not begin writing until after he retired from teaching.  He decided to start with a trilogy based on a cataclysmic event. Marshall’s first trilogy is THE EVENT and consists of THE END, THE BEGINNING, and THE REVELATION. With THE EVENTS success he decided to write a second trilogy that is a frightening look at the events that could lead to THE SECOND CIVIL WAR.  It is made up of: Book I – A NATION DIVIDED; BOOK II – A NATION AT WAR; BOOK III – A NATION HEALING.

He has also published a series of books entitled: the ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES with a central cast of characters. In addition, he has two another series entitled: THE NORRIS FILES with its own set of central characters and THE LOGAN FILES. He enjoys writing mysteries, techno-thrillers, and Sci-Fi. His other Sci-Fi books THE BRINK – DEEP FLIGHT and CLOSE PROXIMITY are intense techno-thrillers with Sci-Fi intertwined. He finished BLACKSTAR and it just went on sale. His latest addition CHIMERA is a look at what could well happen if we don’t stop twisting science in perverted way.

Marshall was born in Bainbridge, Georgia and grew up in Indiana.  After spending eight years in the Navy, he attended Ball State University, earning a B.S. degree in Business.

During and after college, he was involved in the restaurant business and spent the next twenty-five years in all types of venues, eventually owing his own fine dining restaurant. After years of long hours, he decided on a career change. He attended Eastern Illinois University earning a MBA. Eastern Illinois University asked him to teach in the hospitality management program. He was recruited from Eastern to Parkland College and soon took over as the Program Director for the Hospitality Program. During his tenure there, he became a chef and had a television show called Cooking around the World with Chef Marshall and taught a series of Gourmet cooking classes for Continuing Education as well.

Professor Huffman retired from teaching along with his wife, Dr.  Susan Huffman, to the Tampa Bay Florida area.

You can find his other books under: MARSHALL HUFFMAN at Amazon.com. or CreatSpace under MWHuffman.