by Bobby Akart
“My family has been in Texas for generations,” said Governor Burnett as she started into her stump speech. “At the Four Sixes ranch, we started a legacy of cattle, horses, and oil, which continues to this day. Over time, we’ve grown to nearly three hundred thousand acres here in West Texas, and as I look out into the crowd of friendly and familiar faces, I couldn’t be prouder to say I’m a Texan!”
Major applauded along with the rest of the crowd. He too recognized a lot of the faces who were here to pay their respects to the governor looking for a second term. Governor Burnett had done a fine job, in his opinion, and was deserving of re-election. Personally, he thought her rhetoric regarding secession was a little over the top, but he understood politicians felt the need to toss red meat to their loyal base.
“As your Texas land commissioner, I was part of this new generation of Texas leadership that fought against the overbearing federal government through their illegal land grabs by the Bureau of Land Management. When those lefty environmentalists entered our state with their high-powered lawyers from California, I stood up to their radical agendas and the trial lawyers’ abuse of the Endangered Species Act. And when social justice warriors tried to tear down our historic symbols in the name of political correctness, I said no, not on my watch!”
The room burst into a higher level of excitement as the governor continued. She turned to point to a large banner behind her, which was a replica of the Texas state flag. The words Texas Strong! Texas Free! were emblazoned across the front of the banner. The room took her cue and began shouting.
“Texas strong! Texas free!”
“Texas strong! Texas free!”
Major didn’t join in the chants, but he did study the crowd. He marveled at how high passions ran on both sides of issues. He was sure that somewhere in the south of Texas, Governor Burnett’s opponent had whipped his constituents into a similar frenzy screaming La Raza, which was Spanish for the race. It had become the battle cry of those promoting open borders and unfettered immigration into the United States.
“As governor, I’ve pushed back against Washington. While our friends in the federal government refuse to even consider adopting policies of self-reliance, Texas continues to maintain its own power grid completely separate from the rest of the country. While this administration refuses to prepare for the threats we face from countries around the world who don’t like us very much, Texas has adopted policies that will protect all Texans, including those who oppose me, in the event a catastrophic event tears down the nation’s power grid. While Washington sticks its head in the sand like an ostrich, Texans can go to sleep at night knowing that this governor has done her part in protecting the lifeblood of any modern society—the electric grid!”
More raucous applause came from the crowd, and Major even clapped a little louder. Throughout its history, Texas had been fiercely independent. As he and Lucy had adopted a preparedness lifestyle, one that was devoted to the concept of self-reliance under all contingencies, he began to appreciate the work done by Governor Burnett and past Texas governors regarding power grid protection and reliability.
Cooper entered through the front door and craned his neck to look for his father. Major had dropped him off at the neurologist’s office a short distance away to see if he could get an appointment on short notice. Major waved his son over as the governor continued.
“Wow, Daddy, it’s loud in here,” said Cooper as he slid past a group to join his father.
“Yeah, Marion is doing what she does best, whippin’ ’em into a frenzy. Did you get to see the doctor?”
“Not yet, but we can stop by in an hour. Will we be done here?”
“Yeah, she’s winding it up now.”
Governor Burnett continued. “Unlike other states, Texas has broken away from Washington’s control. Other states have become dependent on DC dollars to meet their budget shortfalls. Not in Texas, no, sirree! We balance our budgets on our own. If we can’t afford to spend on something, we wait until we can.
“You see, Washington has imposed its will on the states of this great nation as they govern with a carrot and a stick. You know. Do it our way, and we’ll give you a carrot. But if you push back or refuse to follow their demands, they’ll give you the stick.”
The crowd began to boo, and Cooper chuckled as he looked up to his father. Major managed a smile and shook his head at the spectacle of politics.
“Well, Washington, I’ve got a message for you. You can keep your carrot, and guess what? Our stick’s bigger than your stick! And why’s that, my friends?”
Governor Burnett held one hand up to her ear and leaned into the crowd, which immediately answered her question.
They crowed at the top of their lungs. “Because everything’s bigger in Texas!”
“You’re dang straight!” the governor shouted in return. “God bless you, my fellow Texans. Together, we will make Texas stronger than ever!”
The chants began again as Governor Burnett entered the crowd to shake hands.
“Texas strong! Texas free!”
“Texas strong! Texas free!”
Chapter 16
November 4
Lubbock Neurology Clinic
Lubbock, Texas
As they approached the Lubbock Neurology Clinic, Major asked his son, “So, whadya think of the governor?”
“She’s really nice. Y’all have known each other since before she got into politics?”
“Quite a long time, actually,” replied Major. “As you know, the Four Sixes ranch is located just east of here in Guthrie on the road to Wichita Falls. Our families have helped one another for decades.”
“Was she like this before she became land commissioner and then governor?” asked Cooper.
“Marion was always strong-willed. Since she entered politics, she’s become hard-nosed. In some respects, almost coldhearted.”
“Whadya mean?” asked Cooper.
“She’s very tough on illegal immigration, Coop. Don’t get me wrong. I know those ranchers along the border had their hands full before the border wall was completed. Trust me, it would break my heart to see the dead bodies of those poor souls who made it all this way only to die of dehydration or at the hands of the traffickers.”
“Once the wall was built, she stopped the illegal immigration. They could, however, still apply for citizenship, right? How’s that coldhearted?”
“It wasn’t that. It was her deportation methods. Listen, let’s not get into all of this today. Why trouble ourselves with things we can’t control, right?”
Cooper pointed his father into the parking lot, and Major wheeled the big truck into two vacant parking spaces far away from the entrance. “I’m guessin’ politics is not in your future.”
“No way, Daddy. What I saw was no different than an evangelical preacher under a tent handlin’ snakes. She had those folks so worked up that if she shouted march to Washington and shoot all the politicians, they would’ve done it!”
“Coop, I wonder sometimes,” muttered his father.
Cooper led the way into the Lubbock Neurology Clinic, which was nationally known for its state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment and neurotrauma care.
After Cooper signed in, he and his father sat alone in the waiting area like a couple of old men waiting for the next available barber. After several minutes of silence, Cooper spoke up.
“Daddy, you and I have made a lot of secret deals the last few days.”
“That we have, son.”
“Listen, you can’t let Riley or Palmer know that you’ve come with me today. We, um, have this secret deal of our own.”
Major began to laugh. “Doesn’t appear this family is very good at keeping secrets.”
Cooper continued. “Well, it’s not a big one, but we kinda have a kids’ pact that what happens on the road stays on the road. You know, like the folks in Vegas are always saying.”
“Okay, so what are you sayin’?” asked Major.
“Well, whe
n they took me to the hospital, after I woke up, I made them both swear to live up to our pact. And they did. So I can’t have you tellin’ them you know about what happened. Okay?”
Major busted out laughing so loud that the receptionists rose out of their chairs to see what the uproar was. Major surmised it wasn’t likely that many neurology patients had much to laugh about. He held his hands up to indicate to them everything was okay.
“What?” asked Cooper.
“Son, your sister spilled the beans to Miss Lucy the next day. Let’s just say a mother’s intuition is most often right, and no child can withstand your momma’s interrogation techniques.”
Cooper shook his head. “Are you referring to the look?”
“That’s the one. She’s used the look on me for as long as we’ve known one another, which is why I had to fib to her after the lights were turned out the night y’all came home. I reckon she didn’t buy it for one second.”
“Great,” said Cooper with a laugh. “Palmer broke the code.”
“Actually, son, you did first, remember?”
Cooper threw himself back in the seat and laughed. “I reckon I did.”
A nurse entered the waiting room. “Mr. Armstrong?”
Father and son responded in unison, “Yes?”
The nurse studied them both and said, “I need the Mr. Armstrong with the busted noggin’.”
Cooper and Major pointed at one another. “That’s him.”
The nurse grinned, rolled her eyes, and motioned for the guys to join her. Major thought to himself, No sense of humor around here.
*****
“Cooper, you’re a grown man and I can only caution you on what’s best based upon your injury,” started the doctor. “There is no way that I can sign off on a rodeo event for you in a week. Granted, your injury was minor compared to others; we still need to follow a post-concussive protocol.”
“Doc, we went through the list of symptoms,” Cooper protested. “You said the neck pain was the only thing of concern. That’s getting better every day.”
“That’s good, and your recovery is remarkable considering you were kicked by a pissed-off bull. When dealing with post-concussion syndrome, those initial weeks are critical. Some people may have the telltale signs such as headaches, dizziness, or vision problems right away. For others, the symptoms don’t manifest themselves for weeks.”
“Okay, I understand.” Cooper was clearly dejected. If he couldn’t ride at the next rodeo, that gave him only one more chance at the Calgary Stampede on Thanksgiving weekend. There would be no margin for error.
“Cooper, you have to be very careful over the next several weeks,” the doctor continued. “Experiencing a second concussion in this time frame, what we call second impact syndrome, before the signs and symptoms of your first trauma have been resolved, could result in rapid and sometimes fatal brain swelling. A concussion, even a minor one like yours, changes the levels of brain chemicals. It usually takes a week for these levels to stabilize again, but recovery time varies. From my examination of you, I believe you’re on the road to recovery, just don’t exacerbate your injury.”
Cooper shut down, so Major addressed the neurologist.
“Doctor, I can speak for my son and assure you he will heal fully before he gets anywhere near a bull or I’ll knock him upside the head myself.”
The doctor laughed, and even Cooper managed a smile. During his quiet moment, he was calculating.
Let’s see. I got kicked on October twenty-ninth. Today’s November fourth. That’s seven days. If I skip the next ride, that takes me all the way to Thanksgiving, which is the twenty-fourth. That’s twenty more days, for a total of twenty-seven. That’s pert near a month. I’ll be good to go!
The doctor and his father were still making small talk as a wide grin crossed Cooper Armstrong’s face.
Chapter 17
November 5
Home of Secretary of Defense Montgomery Gregg
Georgetown
Washington, DC
Secretary Gregg asked his wife to turn in without him. She’d learned over their thirty years of marriage not to question her husband when he became this serious. The Secretary was loyal to all who returned the favor, and Mrs. Gregg never once wondered if he had strayed. Since their arrival, the late evening visits from mysterious men had become commonplace. She didn’t question him, and he never volunteered to tell her the subject matter.
A steady rap at the door indicated his guests had arrived. Secretary Gregg lifted himself out of the leather chair, which flanked the large stone fireplace in his study. He allowed the cigar to burn, the smoke easily finding its way to a heat source and up the chimney. Secretary Gregg was not a drinker, but he allowed himself a quality cigar from time to time, when the mood warranted.
He opened the heavy oak door and welcomed in his guests—the most frequent visitors to the Gregg home in Georgetown. He nodded to his security team and closed the doors behind the two men, who quickly moved into the foyer and began to remove their overcoats. Washington had experienced a cooling trend as November arrived.
“Monty, thank you for seeing us on short notice,” said Carl Braun, the director of the Special Activities Division of the National Clandestine Service, who was arguably the nation’s top spy. Braun had spent his entire career in government service within the FBI, CIA and now as head of the Special Activities Division of the NCS.
“Of course,” said Secretary Gregg. He extended his hand to shake Braun’s. Then he addressed Braun’s companion, Billy Yancey, a fellow Texan and head of the Political Action Group, or PAG, within the NCS. PAG was responsible for covert activities related to political regime change, economic warfare, and psychological operations. Secretary Gregg was surprised at the unannounced attendance of his old friend.
“Billy, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Hello, Monty,” said Yancey. “There’s been a game-changer, and it requires a conversation between all of us.”
“Us?” asked Secretary Gregg as he led the men into his study. He reached for his cigar box and opened the lid, offering one to his guests. They both passed.
“Monty, based upon this conversation, we may have to go to others whose departments are directly impacted by our decision.”
“Sounds serious. Take a seat, gentlemen, and tell me what’s happened.”
To most Americans, the government was run by a large, wholly encompassing federal government whose tentacles controlled most aspects of our daily lives. What didn’t fall under the purview of Washington was delegated to the fifty states.
Very little happened in an individual’s daily activities that wasn’t controlled by, or supplemented with, government actions. What most Americans suspect, but can’t necessarily prove, was that there was a cabal, of sorts, deeply rooted in the administrative apparatus of Washington, that operated independently of the elected officials who run the government.
These long-term, career public servants achieved a position of power by sheer longevity in their positions, or through the careful exploitation of the system, which allowed for the acquisition of power. Political scientists and foreign policy experts have referred to these individuals as being part of the deep state, a term used to describe those who exercise power independent of, and oftentimes in contravention of, elected political leaders.
Secretary Gregg, Undersecretary Yancey, and Director Braun were not only part of the deep state, they were three of a dozen who acted as final decision makers. When Braun called the meeting, Secretary Gregg knew it was important. When Billy Yancey showed up at the front door, it meant the subject matter most likely meant one thing—North Korea.
“I’ll get right to it, Monty,” started Braun. “Two of our field operatives were on post in the Gulf of Oman and participated in a VBSS of a Singapore-flagged freighter we’ve had the NSA monitoring. There was a container and two passengers under South Korean passports added to the ship’s manifest at the eleventh hour, which caught
the eye of a CIA analyst.”
“What did they find?” asked Secretary Gregg.
“In addition to the two North Korean scientists, the container held parts for a medium-sized, low-earth orbiting satellite,” replied Braun.
“Destination?”
“We believe they were headed for Iran,” Braun replied. “During the initial interrogation, the scientists admitted that Pyongyang has been working with Tehran for years on their satellite program. Once we got them under the microscope in one of our dark facilities, they told us about a technology-sharing arrangement between the DPRK and Iran.”
“That explains how North Korea’s nuclear program advanced so rapidly during the period from 2010 through 2016,” added Secretary Gregg. “We always suspected as much, but Iran was hands-off during those years, if you remember.”
“As a result,” added Yancey, “we have a nuclear Iran and North Korea, both of which are now increasing their nuclear weapons stockpiles in complete defiance of those idiots in the United Nations.”
Secretary Gregg put out his cigar and tossed it into the fireplace. “Okay, so how is the satellite a game-changer? I mean, both countries have been launching satellites for years.”
“It confirms that the nations are trading technology and actively working together,” replied Braun.
“And, I might add, it provides a potential weapon for both countries to be used against the West—an EMP,” said Yancey.
“Do you think they have the technology to strap a nuclear warhead to a satellite?” asked Secretary Gregg.
Braun nodded. “According to our singing scientists, they’ve already done it. But let me say this. Towards the end of our enhanced interrogation techniques, those two might have admitted to being space aliens. That said, all the pieces of the puzzle seem to fit.”
Secretary Gregg rolled his head around his shoulders and stood to stare out onto Thirty-Fifth Street. With his back to his guests, he asked, “Why hasn’t little un pulled the trigger. He’s been blustering for years.”
