by Stuart Woods
“What’s a rollover?” Holly asked.
“A rollover is somebody who gets caught doing something naughty, and the people who catch him realize he might be more valuable doing naughty things for them, rather than being put in a prison cell. So they roll him over—give his background a shampoo and a haircut, and he belongs to them.”
“Until he retires,” Ham said.
“There’s no pension plan for people like this,” Harry said. “In fact, my guy said that if I ran across Charlesworth in person, he’d like to hear about it. He was real casual about it, but what this says to me is that Charlesworth bailed out of whatever program they had him in, and that they would either like to have him back or give him a new haircut, starting at about the Adam’s apple.”
“Well,” Holly said. “This is wonderfully murky. We never ran into stuff like this in the MPs.”
Everybody laughed.
“I don’t get it,” Ham said. “What would a guy like this be doing involved with some half-baked gun nuts like these folks out at the lake? You think they’re robbing so many banks that they need somebody to launder the proceeds?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Harry said. “We tend to notice when somebody starts robbing a lot of banks, even if they’re spread out all over the country. Bank robbers always have a modus operandi, and they stick to what works for them. So far, we’ve got a pattern of only two, separated by a number of years. If the same group did both jobs, then they’ve more than likely got the proceeds salted away and are spending it on groceries and plumbers and ortho dontists and car repairs.”
“And weapons,” Ham said.
“There is that,” Harry said. “And if, as you say, this guy John has been away for a while, then where has he been?”
“Laundering money?” Holly ventured.
“I really don’t think they’ve got that much money,” Harry said. “What occurs to me is that maybe John is a traveling man, going from place to place and, maybe, from group to group.”
“That would fit in with my impression of him,” Ham agreed.
“Be interesting to see how much you see of old John in your visits to the group,” Harry said. “He wasn’t there for the first few visits, but he’s here now, or was. I want to know if he’s there on your next visit.”
“Okay,” Ham said.
“And Ham,” Harry said, “I don’t think you can keep going back out there without asking at least some questions. It wouldn’t seem natural to have no curiosity at all about what you’re seeing there.”
“What do you want me to ask them?”
“Don’t get too pointed, just be easy about it. I think, at some point, you have to let them know that you’re not going to get too involved until you know what’s going on. It’s a matter of when you believe they’re starting to trust you.”
“I see,” Ham said.
“Of course, you don’t want to get too curious,” Harry said. “If they think you’re too curious, they might choose to do something about you, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“No,” Holly said, giving Ham a worried look, “we wouldn’t.”
Thirty-five
HAM WALKED DOWN THE LINE OF SHOOTERS, who were in the prone firing position, kicking their feet farther apart, telling them to get their arms vertically under the stock and to relax. They were dry-firing at paper targets no more than twenty-five feet away.
“When do we get to fire?” one of them asked.
“When you can hold the weapon steady enough and pull the trigger slowly enough to keep a bead on the center of that target without any movement whatsoever.”
Ham glanced at John, who was standing a few feet away, watching the procedure.
John gave Ham a big smile. “That’s telling ’em,” he said.
Ham walked over and stood beside him. “They all think they’re hotshots,” he said. “They don’t like being made to dry fire, but dry firing can make the difference between firing expertly and constantly looking at Maggie’s drawers.” He was referring to the red flag that was waved by the checker when a shooter had missed the target entirely.
“How long will you keep them at it?”
Ham called out to the group. “Who’s getting it right every time?”
A skinny kid in camouflage fatigues that were too large for him raised his hand.
“Okay, son,” Ham said, “you go on over to the range and have them put up a target for you. I’ll come take a look at it after a while.”
The boy got up and left.
“Depends on the shooter,” Ham said. “That boy might turn out to be good. We’ll know in a little while.”
“I’m surprised they’re not all raising their hands,” John said.
“They won’t do that, because I’ve already told them that if they pass themselves too quickly, then screw up on the range, I’ll send them back to dry firing, and that would be humiliating.”
“You sound like you’ve done some time as a drill sergeant, Ham,” John said.
“I’ve done some time at just about everything an NCO can do in the army,” Ham replied.
“You know,” John said, placing a friendly hand on Ham’s shoulder, “I think you’re going to fit in just perfectly around here.”
“Nice of you to say so,” Ham replied. “Now maybe you’ll answer a question for me.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Who the hell are you, and what’s going on around here?”
John burst out laughing. “You get right to the point, don’t you, Ham?”
“Why waste your time and mine?”
“Let’s go over there and sit down,” John said, nodding toward a picnic table under an oak tree. They went and sat down. John put a cooler on the table. “You want a beer?”
“Sure,” Ham said. “It’s hot out here.”
John handed him a Budweiser, and they both popped the tops. He took a long swig and set the beer on the table. “Ham,” he said, “let me tell you about you.”
“Okay,” Ham replied.
“You’re like a lot of our folks; you don’t like the direction the country has taken since—”
“Since the Vietnam War,” Ham said.
“Right. That was the breaking point for a lot of us. The politicians got us into a shooting war and wouldn’t let us win it. The result of that, among other things, is that blacks and Jews started to get more political power, to the point that you can’t really get anything done in this country unless you kiss their asses.”
“That’s God’s truth,” Ham said.
“Now you’re out of the army that gave you a reason to live for thirty years,” John said, “and you’re bored rigid.”
“Right again.”
“What would you say if I told you I could offer you work that would, one, end your boredom, and two, help bring about a new American revolution, one that would put real people like you and me in power?”
Ham looked him in the eye. “I’d say that’s a mighty big statement.”
“I can back it up,” John said.
“I’m listening.”
“All right. I have two things that will help me make it happen: one, I’ve got the makings of an army of absolute loyalists who are being trained to make that revolution happen, and two, I’ve got the financial means to support the effort—or I will have, and sooner rather than later.”
“I’m still listening,” Ham said.
“Ham, you’ve been a noncom for most of your adult life. How would you like to be a general?”
Ham allowed himself a small smile.
“You’d be good at generaling, wouldn’t you?”
“You’re damn right I would, but if you try to take over the country, you’re going to have to deal with the military, and that’s a very big job.”
“Think back on your military experience, Ham. How many officers you knew would fit into the kind of revolution I’m talking about?”
“Damn few.”
“But the
enlisted men and noncoms were a different story, weren’t they.”
“They were. A lot of them were smarter than the officers who commanded them.” Ham was getting good at lying.
“So, you see, we don’t have to fight the military. We take it over, and we do so by elevating the noncoms to command status.”
“And you do that by eliminating the officers?”
“Not all of them,” John said. “There are some who can be trusted. We’re already in touch with a lot of them.”
“So you’re talking about getting rid of most of the officers, establishing martial law with a new military, then dumping the Constitution?”
“No, no, no,” John said. “The Constitution of the United States is a magnificent document, a blue-print for the perfect society. The problem is the people who are interpreting it and enforcing it. What we need is about five years of military dominance to cleanse this country of its worst elements and to establish a new judiciary. Then we can hold elections with confidence. Free elections are a wonderful thing, when you’re dealing with an electorate purged of anti-Christian elements and reeducated to think about their country in a new way.”
“Well, that’s all very exciting,” Ham said, “but do you really think you can pull this off?”
“I don’t believe in fantasy, Ham; I deal in reality. The right man, with the support of like-minded people like you, can make his own reality.”
“Nothing like this has ever been done before,” Ham said, shaking his head.
“Sure it has,” John replied. “Go back and look at Germany in the twenties and thirties. Adolf Hitler did something very like what I’m talking about. He didn’t lead the sort of revolution they had in Russia; instead, he infiltrated his country’s institutions, built public support, co-opted industry and the army, and, in a very few years, got himself elected dictator with over ninety percent of the vote. It can be done here, too.”
“Well,” Ham said, gazing at the lake, “this is all pretty breathtaking.”
“I understand how you feel, Ham, and you’re right to be skeptical. You stick with me, and by the time a few weeks have passed, you’ll see a bigger picture, and you’ll come to know in your very bones that what I’ve been telling you can and will happen.”
“I’m looking forward to learning,” Ham said.
John clapped him on the shoulder. “Great! Now you get back out there and make marksmen of those boys. We’re going to need them!”
Ham walked back toward his students in a daze.
Thirty-six
HAM DROVE QUICKLY BACK TO ORCHID BEACH, watching his rearview mirror to be sure he wasn’t followed. He drove down A1A to the South Beach area, turned in a driveway and waited for a car to pass. Nothing did for one minute. He backed out, drove to Holly’s house and parked the car. She wasn’t home, so he hiked along the beach to the house next door and found her having dinner with Harry, Doug and Eddie.
Harry saw him at the sliding door and waved him in. “Ham, it’s dangerous for you to come here a lot.”
“Nobody followed me,” Ham said. “I checked thoroughly, then I parked at Holly’s.”
“Get yourself a beer,” Harry said. “You want some pizza?” He waved at the three open boxes on the table.
Ham got himself a beer, grabbed a slice of pizza and took some deep breaths.
“What is it, Ham?” Holly said. “You look funny.”
“I feel funny,” Ham said.
“What?” Harry demanded.
“Listen, Harry,” Ham said, “when I got into this, I thought I was looking for bank robbers, you know?”
“Right.”
“And then I thought maybe it was a little more complicated than that, but . . .” He stopped.
“Ham, what is it?” Harry asked.
“This is a lot bigger than any of us thought.” Ham repeated his conversation with John, word for word.
When he had finished, Harry and Holly sat and stared at him, saying nothing.
“Well?”
“Well, shit,” Harry said, putting down his slice of pizza and taking a big swig from his beer bottle.
“What do you want me to do, Harry?”
“Do you think this guy was just blowing smoke up your ass? You think he’s fantasizing all this?”
“Not for a minute,” Harry said. “If you’d been there, you wouldn’t think so, either. This guy is perfectly serious.”
“You think maybe he was exaggerating a little?”
“No, I think he was holding a lot back.”
“Of course, they have checked you out thoroughly,” Harry said. “They’ve got to believe you’re who you say you are and not a Fed.”
“I’m sure they do. Jesus, I wish I had been wearing a wire.”
“Did they search you for one? Have they ever?”
“No, never.”
“That’s kind of weird, in a way,” Harry said. “You’d think they’d be more careful.”
Eddie the Hacker spoke up. “They don’t necessarily have to frisk him, you know. They could have something that could pick up transmissions.”
“Yeah, but that sort of thing couldn’t pick up a recorder.”
“You’ve got to start wiring me,” Ham said.
“I know,” Harry replied, “but I’m reluctant. If they should ever really search you . . .”
Eddie spoke up again. “We don’t have to send him in there with a conventional wire. We can do a lot better than that, if you’ll make a call to Washington for me.”
“I’ll make the call,” Harry said.
“He’s talking about subverting the army, Harry,” Ham said. “I don’t really see how he can do that. I mean, this is not Germany in nineteen thirty.”
“We know there are right-wing, racist groups in a lot of army outfits,” Harry said. “We keep a very close watch on that sort of thing. I don’t think they could actually do what John says they’re going to do. I’m more interested in how he’s going to finance all this. He can’t rob that many banks.”
“He said he’d have the financing soon,” Ham said. “I didn’t press him on that.”
“He must have a benefactor,” Harry said. “Somebody with big bucks, who’s willing to invest in a future he thinks he can control. I’d sure like to know who that might be.”
“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing he’d tell me,” Ham said.
“I agree. You’re too new.”
Ham turned to Eddie. “Have you got some equipment I can plant out there? They seem to hold a lot of meetings in Peck’s office; that would be a good place to bug.”
“Depends on how paranoid they are,” Eddie said. “If they sweep the place and find something, then we’re screwed.”
“You mean Ham’s screwed,” Holly said.
“Come on, Eddie, you must have something that would work.”
“I’ve heard rumors about stuff,” Eddie said, “but I don’t think the Bureau is in charge of it.”
“You’re talking about the National Security Agency, aren’t you?” Ham asked.
“Yeah. I’ve heard rumors about their capabilities, and they’re scary. They could be listening to us right now.”
Holly looked at Harry. “Why do I think you wouldn’t want to bring another government agency into this?”
“Don’t needle me, Holly.”
“Something’s building out there,” Ham said. “I don’t know what it is, but if all you’ve got is me, then I think you need a lot more help, Harry.”
“I guess at some point I’m going to,” Harry admitted. “But not yet. In order to get the NSA in on this I’d have to go right up the Bureau’s chain of command to the director, who’d then chat with the attorney general about it, and if he thought it couldn’t damage him politically, then he might talk to the director of Central Intelligence, and if he felt like it, he might authorize the director to talk to somebody at NSA. But there’s no way to be sure of that, and before I go that route, I want some hard information.”
>
“I believe this is a catch twenty-two,” Holly said. “We can’t get the information without outside help, and you don’t want to ask for outside help until you have the information.”
“That’s about it,” Harry said. “What I can do, though, is get Washington to equip Eddie with something cuter than a regular tape recorder. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Eddie?”
Eddie nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll make the call in the morning, after they’ve had their coffee,” Harry said. “We’ll get hold of something.”
Holly chimed in. “Get hold of something that won’t get Ham’s ass fried, will you, Harry?”
Thirty-seven
HAM WAS SPENDING EVERY DAY AT LAKE WINACHOBEE now, and his students were becoming expert shots, one after another. Only occasionally did he find someone who could not learn to shoot reasonably well. They were usually people with shaky hands.
One morning, after sending a shooting class to the range, Peck whistled at him from his house and waved him over.
“What’s up?” Ham asked.
“I want you to hear a little presentation John’s giving to some of our newer folks,” Peck said, ushering him into his study. A dozen people sat around the room, and John sat in a comfortable armchair, chatting easily with a couple of them. He looked up and saw Ham and Peck enter.
“All right, listen up,” John said to the group. “We know from our previous discussions that the founding fathers of our country intended that it should be run under principles set down in the Bible: whites are the chosen people of God; homosexuals are an abomination and should be exterminated. Also, the paper money issued by the government is unconstitutional, and so are the income tax laws, but of course, we have no chance of getting the Supreme Court to rule that, not without a new Supreme Court. Now, we’re going to see what can be done about avoiding taxes and keeping our financial dealings secret.”
John stood up and went to an easel. He took a felt marking pen and began drawing a chart. “What we’ve done is set up something called a warehouse bank,” he said, pointing to the first block. “We take deposits into numbered accounts, and that’s very important. Once we establish an account and give you a number, we destroy any record that would show who owns the account. This drives the IRS crazy. I saw a quote from one official who said that investigating a warehouse bank is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.” This got a good laugh.
