by P A Duncan
“Mums! I missed you!”
Mai kissed the girl’s temple and released her. “How was the flight?”
“The last part, great. The commercial flight from Hawaii to Seattle sucked. I had to wear this stupid unaccompanied minor sticker.”
“If your dad hadn’t sent Olga home that wouldn’t have happened.”
They gathered up her bags and headed toward the terminal.
“I know, but listen. This is so cool. Dad has a girlfriend, and he was sooooo serious when he told me. She said Olga made her nervous. That’s why he asked her to go home. Where’s Popi? At the car?”
“No. He’s still on his business trip.”
“That’s been, like, forever.”
“So, your father has a girlfriend. What’s she like?”
“She’s totally clingy with Dad. She’s just out of college, working at the observatory. Will Popi call home soon?”
They emerged from the building to the parking lot.
“He’s in a remote area.”
“And, like, big surprise, you can’t talk about it.”
“Exactly. He sent his love the last time I did talk to him,” Mai lied. “What’s the girlfriend’s name?”
“McCartney. Wow! You drove the Jag!”
She’d never admit it, but she’d driven it because it still smelled of Alexei’s aftershave.
“What McCartney?” Mai asked.
“That’s her first name. That’s kinda cool. She said she’s named after that guy in the group Wings, I think. How long before Popi comes home?”
Mai opened the Jaguar’s trunk. “I don’t know. When he finishes his work.”
“Which you can’t talk about.”
“Put your things in the trunk, and let’s go.”
Once they were headed south on the George Washington Parkway, Mai asked, “Is your father serious about McCartney?”
“He must be. They’ve been living together for, like, months.”
“Why didn’t he mention it before?”
“Who knows with Dad? Maybe because she’s, like, twenty-two and he’s, like, ancient.”
“He’s thirty-two. Like father, like son.”
“Oh, because you’re so much younger than Popi. Does that mean when I’m, like, in my thirties, I can date college guys?”
“Let’s worry about dating boys your own age first.”
Natalia stayed quiet for close to a minute, rare for her. “I miss Popi. I wish he were home.”
“Give it a rest, Natalia.”
“He’s only, like, my grandfather. Excuse me for caring. What, did you guys have another fight?”
“God, you make it sound as if that’s all we do.”
“Did you?”
“Bloody hell, no. He’s away for work. Did the sun cook your brains I have to keep repeating myself?”
“Great. I come home to Miss Bitch of All Time.”
“Enough. Stay quiet until we get home.”
Mount Vernon, Virginia
When Mai stopped the car in the garage, Natalia reached over and pulled the lever to open the trunk. She got out and slammed the door so hard the car rocked. Mai sat and counted to ten, then to fifty before she went in the house.
Olga had come up from her apartment, and Natalia had handed her a gold foil box. “Here are those cookies you like. You didn’t get a chance to buy any before Dad went all stupid and asked you to go,” Natalia said.
“Thank you, devushka,” Olga said.
Natalia gave Mai a dark look and said, “I’m going upstairs to unpack. Come help me, Olga, and I’ll tell you everything you missed.”
“You get started. I will come soon.”
Natalia glared at Mai again and trudged upstairs with her bags.
“Reminds me of expression, if looks could kill,” Olga said. “What is problem?”
“Alexei’s not back, and that’s somehow my fault because I’m such a bitch and he and I fight all the time.”
“Is expected she misses grandfather. She always does after she has been with father.”
“You didn’t say anything about the girlfriend when you got back.”
“I checked her and only would say something if there were a problem. Otherwise, is none of my business.”
“What do you think of her?”
“What is term? High maintenance and too possessive of Pyotor.”
“Our boy has grown up. Get Natalia situated, will you? I have work to do.” Mai headed toward the office.
“Do you have work, or do you have date with whiskey bottle?”
Mai turned. “Spying at keyholes again?”
“No, counting bottles in recycle bin. Bukharin will be happy is not cocaine.”
“Jesus Wept, does he tell you everything?”
“Not most intimate things.”
“That’s something to be thankful for at least.”
“For that, I listen at door.”
“I don’t ever know when you’re joking.”
“I never joke. I have stayed out of your way since I returned, but I am here.”
“For what?”
“If you wish to talk.”
Mai had some satisfaction Olga looked as uncomfortable with that prospect as she.
“It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much concern about something Alexei’s done. Hell, I’ve never been this concerned about him. I don’t want her to see that,” Mai said.
“You must be strong and not show fear.”
“And I get clichés.”
“Why are you afraid?”
Mindful Natalia’s curiosity could rival her own, Mai motioned Olga to the office.
“This place where he is, we can’t find it. We can’t even get a good sat photo possibility. I thought it was here.” She pointed to the photo on the cork board.
Olga studied it and said, “Looks like farm.”
“That’s the consensus. What we do know of Patriot City, it’s dangerous. And there’s the whole von Hollenbrand thing.”
“Alexei knows how to bide his time and wait for the right moment. Again, why do you fear?”
“One slip, one tiny slip, and he’s dead.” There. She’d said it. “If he isn’t already.”
“Bukharin does not slip. I taught him well.”
Mai had no reply, at least not one that wouldn’t insult anyone. Olga slipped out, and Mai stared at the bar. What the hell, she thought. It was pub time where she was from.
The door to Natalia’s room was closed, and Mai almost decided not to mend fences. She could hear Natalia had gotten reacquainted with her stereo. The subwoofer shook the pictures on the hallway walls.
Mai knocked, the stereo went silent, and the door opened. Natalia frowned when she saw Mai.
“May I come in?” Mai asked.
Natalia didn’t answer but stepped back from the doorway. Inside, Mai saw the contents of the girl’s luggage strewn everywhere.
“So,” Natalia said, “I, like, smell whiskey.”
“Natalia Petrovna, you aren’t old enough to pull that attitude with me. I’m an adult. If I want to get roaring drunk in my own home, I will. If you don’t like it, call Social Services.”
Tears pooled in Natalia’s eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
Well, crap, Mai thought. “Nat, I’m sorry.”
“Is Popi okay?”
“Yes,” she said, hoping it wasn’t a lie.
“Then, what’s with the whiskey?”
“The usual. Working all hours, forgetting to eat and sleep.”
Natalia swiped at her tears and looked more like eight than almost fourteen. “I’m sorry, too, Mums. I shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”
“I was being bitchy, but forget it. Do you need help…” Mai looked around again. “…unpacking?”
Natalia shook her head. “If something had happened to Popi, you’d tell me, right?”
“If it had, I would tell you. I would want to be the one who told you, but there’s no need for
that. Figure out your laundry and get started on that. Monday we’ll go shopping for school clothes.”
“Okay, Mums.”
“Shall we have Olga cook or order in Chinese?”
Natalia brightened, smiling. “Chinese.”
Mai went back downstairs, told Olga the dinner plans, and retreated to the office. She poured another whiskey. A trip to John Carroll’s friend’s farm looked more and more attractive.
30
The Approaching Thunder
Patriot City
Alexei walked away from the meeting hall, away from the knot of instructors and recruits milling about and smoking, grateful Elijah had called a break. Alexei needed fresh air. And a bath. He felt hate clinging to his skin, and he wanted to be rid of it. He hadn’t realized how much this would affect him, this first full-blown exposure to Neo-Nazism.
And it was too easy to slip into character here, to fit into this mad world of extreme religion and politics. Fit in was what he had to do. He knew what some of these groups did to people they thought were informers.
He sensed someone behind him and turned, hand on his gun.
“Easy, honey. It’s Charlene.”
He’d seen her around: in the meeting hall, serving food at meals, sitting in the area designated for women. His hand dropped to his side. “Yes?” he said.
“What are you doing out here? We’re about to start up again, and Prophet doesn’t like the instructors to be late.”
“I wanted air, to have energy and be alert to hear and understand the teaching.”
“Good for you, honey. You’re the kind of man we’re looking for.”
There was that flat monotone again. She looked away from him and back, smiling. “I haven’t seen you since your first day, honey. Are you doing okay? Got everything you need?”
The innuendo was obvious, but he’d need an insider, someone he could glean information from. Stringing a woman along was a skill of his.
“I am good for now, but lonely,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. “Well, uh, if you have trouble reading your books, I can help. I mean, you know, with an English word if you don’t understand it.”
“I will ask you when I have trouble with words.”
He caught a quick smile in the moonlight.
“Good. You better get back inside, honey.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. There was plenty of emotion in it when she said, “Trust me. You don’t want to piss Elijah off.”
She was a shadow moving away from him. A deep breath later, Alexei followed.
Throughout the day and into the evening, people left their seats and got coffee, but not the instructors. Alexei had to force himself to stay awake. That made him wonder what would happen to anyone who fell asleep in the middle of Elijah’s drivel about the twelve tribes of Israel and how the tribe of Levi came to America and made it the promised land.
“If you’d been taught this,” Elijah said, “if your fathers and grandfathers had been taught this, the Jews wouldn’t have taken over everything, at least not without a fight. Who is the biggest proponent of separation of church and state? The Jews. They want all other religions except theirs separate from the government. See what that has wrought in this country.
“Why are the Jews evil, you ask? They were born to it. Descendants of Cain. They’ve spread their perfidy around the world. Blood sacrifice. Devil worship. Black magic. They claim they worship Jehovah, another name for Yahweh, but the only God they worship is Satan. They curry Satan’s favor with the blood of pure, white babies.”
Still standard brainwashing, offering a threat, real or imagined to the trainees’ families. People sat up and paid attention, though.
“Abortionists!” someone shouted.
“Amen!” Elijah replied. “It’s no coincidence that child abductions are on the rise. Millions of children taken each year and their little bodies never found. Why?”
“Because the devil Jew uses them for blood sacrifices,” someone yelled.
“Amen!” Elijah shouted back. “Yahweh opened my eyes to this, and this knowledge strengthens the hand holding my weapon. Why are abortion clinics owned and run by Jew doctors?”
The man who’d identified himself as a divinity student stood and said, “To get a supply of fetuses for their sick rituals.”
“And?” Elijah prompted.
“To reduce the number of white babies. Niggers don’t get abortions.”
“Amen! You never see niggers at abortion clinics. Do you?”
“No!” the crowd shouted back.
“Why are all the queers Jews? To lure your children into depravity. If they turn white children into queers, there will be fewer white, Christian babies. Who tells you to love the faggot? The Jew! And I say it’s a lie. AIDS is the scourge of Yahweh, sent to punish the cock-sucking, Jew-fucking queer!”
Elijah’s voice rose to a scream, and the trainees cheered and applauded. Alexei was glad the instructors had to remain stoic. There were limits to his acting ability.
“Today, the Jew has spread his filth everywhere. Why do Jews own all the banks? To control the world’s money and by that, the world’s governments. Who controls the media in this country? Who brought us the Federal Reserve and the Income Tax? Jews. Why did we fight wars, twice, against our German, Aryan brothers? Because of Jew manipulation. We reduce our numbers in their wars. It’s no coincidence godless communists are Jews. Is it coincidence the United Nations was the idea of a Jew?”
“No!” the trainees screamed.
“Is it coincidence our government sends more money to the Jew government in Israel than anywhere else?”
“No!”
“We must know our enemies. Our enemy is the Shylock who runs the banks, who owns the factories we labor in, who starts wars to enrich himself and kill us. Do! We! Know! Our! Enemy?”
“Yes!”
“Who is our enemy?”
“The Jew!”
“Who is our enemy?”
“The Jew! The Jew!”
Repetition was a tried and true conditioning technique, and Elijah used with effect. He let the chant go on for a while longer and held up his hands for silence.
Calm again, he said, “Yahweh created all races except the white race on the third day of creation. The ones created before were experiments, not perfect, not made in his image, but Yahweh was merciful. He didn’t destroy these imperfections but made them servants for his perfect creation, the white race. Then, Yahweh made Adam, white, perfect Adam, and breathed life into him. He made Eve, white Eve, from Adam’s rib.” He paced a bit, seeming to think. He stopped and looked over the assembly. “Do you believe all who walk on two legs are human?” he asked.
“No!” a voice said.
“The Jew brainwashes you to believe that all are equal, all are human. Yahweh gave souls only to the white race. The proof of this is in the oldest holy texts of humans, the Vedas of ancient India—from where Aryans rose. Do we accept that ancient affirmation or do we accept the lies of the Jews?”
“No!” several voices shouted.
“Many learned men have written thousands of treatises about the true nature of the nigger. Did you know that? I’ll wager you didn’t because we don’t get to study those treatises. Why is that?”
As if he were in school, a man in his twenties raised his hand. Elijah nodded to him. The man stood, wiping the nervous sweat from his palms on his trousers. “I think, sir,” he said, “it’s because the Jews don’t want us to know, because they control our education system, and… and…” He frowned, searching for words. His face brightened, and he added, “Because the nigger is the dirty tool of the Jew!”
“Amen, brother!” Elijah said, and led the applause for the man.
The man sat back down, the men around him slapping him on the back.
“Yahweh tells us niggers are subhuman,” Elijah said, his voice professorial, “one of the early, test races he created to serve the white man. Let me see if I can show you. You k
now what a nigger looks like, right?”
Nods and murmurs of assent.
“You know what an ape looks like?”
More nods, a lot of laughter.
“Do white men have animal wool for hair?”
“No!”
“Do we have an ape-sized brain?”
“No!”
“Do we smell like an ape?”
“No!”
“Do we have long, knuckle-dragging simian arms, the ape-black color on our skins, the fat saucer lips, the wide ape pelvis?”
“NO!”
Again quiet, Elijah asked, “Who fits this description?”
“The nigger!”
“Who?”
“The nigger!”
“Do we know who our enemy is?”
“The nigger!”
“Who! Is! Our! Enemy?”
“The nigger! The nigger!”
The shouting rose to ear-splitting, bringing a throbbing headache to Alexei’s temples.
Someone started the chant, “White power!” Elijah let it go on, and it took several tries for him to quiet the crowd.
His tone conversational, Elijah said, “Our duty as white Christian men is to reproduce our race in prolific numbers. There is no choice in this matter. Every healthy Aryan Christian woman must bear children. That is her place, and it’s a holy place. The Jews shame women who have many children. I say the shame is those women who refuse to have children, who use contraceptives, who have abortions to remain childless. When a white Christian woman gives birth again and again and again, we have won a battle for existence. Look to the Aryan women of Patriot City!”
Elijah pointed to the back of the room, where two rows of mothers cast their eyes down as they stood. Some held sleeping babies. Others were pregnant. How many, Alexei wondered, were Elijah’s.
The trainees stood, turned to the women, and applauded before they grew quiet and sat again.
Elijah said to the assembly, “Your wives need to follow this example. Those of you married by secular law, if your wives won’t do their duty and give you children in great numbers, you will go home from here and assert yourself. Yahweh says the man is the head of the woman. Teach her what her duty is. Make her do her duty.”
