by Dale Brown
skin reddened, then turned dark, then peeled like
burned paper.
it was over as quickly as it began. The vegetation
as far as Patrick's eyes could see was blackened
down'to the earth. The ranch house and the buildings
around it were gone. On the other side of Grant
Line Road, over a half mile away, other buildings
were on fire. The ground around him was crusty and
smoldering. He did a systems check-the, suit was
still functioning, although the environmental system
was guzzling power at a tremendous rate. He
took off his helmet to help it vent excess heat.
"Nice try, flyboy." To Patrick's astonishment,
Reynolds was still alive. "You almost got me out."
"Try to relax. I'll get you to a hospital as fast as I
can.//
"Never been to a hospital, and I don't intend to
go now, buddy," Reynolds said. "Damn, now I
know how those salmon feel sitting in my skillet."
He looked at Patrick, his face just visible in the
faint glow from the fires. "You look like a good guy,
brother. I seen you before, haven't F"
"Don't know," said Patrick. "Maybe on TVthere
was some stuff when my brother was in the
hospital. Paul McLanahan, one of the cops who was
shot by the Major. Is he part of Townsend's organization
? "
"Yeah, The Aryan Brigade, they call themselves,"
Reynolds said. "Although they don't do much Nazi
shit except when there's visitors."
That was an interesting tidbit, thought Patrick,
filing it away. "They were the ones who staged that
robbery at Sacramento Live!?" he asked. "They set
up those explosions around Sacramento?"
"Yeah. Townsend . . . what a piece of whackedout
work," Reynolds said. "Kills two cops to steal
enough money to build meth hydrogenators, then
gives them away to the bikers, then blows them all
up. Squandered hundreds of thousands of dollars.
He tells me we can start up production again out
here at the ranch, then booby-traps thousands of
dollars' more worth of chemicals. One sick motherfucker
. I knew I should've stayed away from him."
"Where is he now? Where can I find him?"
"Don't know," Reynolds gasped. He was having
difficulty drawing breath by now. "Only place I ever
been is right here." He was looking at Patrick, but
his eyes were focused far away. "Hey, man, I'm
sorry . . . sorry about your brother an' those cops,"
he said weakly. "I never meant to hurt no cops. All I
wanted to do was go about my business
It was an apology, Patrick realized; the poor guy
was trying to make his confession. But Patrick felt
only disgust. "I guess your business is over," he
said, then realized Reynolds had died before he
could hear those words.
Minutes later, Jon Masters arrived in the Hummer
. He was as excited as a kid in Disneyland. "Oh
man, did you see that explosion?" he asked as Patrick
climbed in, turned on the generator, and
plugged in the backpack. "It looked like a mushroom
cloud, just like those old photos of aboveground
nuclear tests in Nevada, except it was all
fire! How close were you to the blast?"
"About a hundred yards."
"A close shave-awesome!" Jon exclaimed.
"Hey, where's your prisoner?"
"Dead," Patrick said. "Didn't you see his body
lying there? He got burned up by the fire after the
blast. But he talked before he died-he was the guy
in charge of cooking drugs and building the equipment
for a group called the Aryan Brigade." Patrick
filled Jon in on what he'd seen at the Wilton hideout
.
"It looks to me like it must be over now, Jon
said. "With his base of operations gone, this Townsend
guy must be heading for the hills."
"I'm not sure about that. Some things that Reynolds
said make me wonder. Look-he said that
Townsend staged the Sacramento Live! shootout to
raise money to build the meth generators. Then he
gave the generators away to the gangs-;knd blew
them all up. The deal would have been worth hundreds
of thousands of dollars a month. Why would
he give all that up so Reynolds could go back and
start making drugs all over again? It doesn't make
sense. There's got to be some other agenda. And
Reynolds said that Townsend and his group don't
act like neo-Nazis except when there's someone
around from outside their organization. I wonder
what that means."
"It means he's crazy," said Jon. "Maybe he
thought he'd lose control of the Brotherhood unless
he killed them all. Maybe he wanted to make his
mark with the cops and the gangs, you know, sort of
be the capo di tutti capi or.something. Or maybe it
was some kind of tactic to run the price of meth up
on the street, then make his own and make more
money. Who knows? Who cares?"
Patrick let it drop. They took Douglas Road west
to the east entrance to the Mather airport, which
gave them a shorter drive to the old SAC alert facility
on the southeast side of the runway. The roads
were completely deserted. They turned down the
long access road that led to the entrapment gate. As
they pulled up, Jon activated his earsct cellular tele-
phone and dialed the number for the guard shack so
they could open the outer gate, but the line was
busy. "Busy?" Patrick asked. "That doesn't sound
right. You'd better let me
There was a tap on Jon's window. They turned in
surprise. To their astonishment, there was Tom
Chandler, the muzzle of his 9-millimeter automatic
pressed against the glass. He made a circular sign
with the gun, and Jon reluctantly rolled down the
window.
"Good evening, Dr. Masters," said Chandler.
"You're out late tonight." He looked into the backseat
and saw a wiped-out Patrick McLanahan sitting
by himself. He was in that Tin Man suit Chandler
had last seen as he leaped away from the headquarters
parking area. "And good evening, Mr. McLanahan--or
should I say, General McLanahan. You've
been very busy tonight, I see."
"Go to hell, Chandler," said Patrick.
"Easy, General." Chandler gestured behind him,
and several sheriff's deputies in full SWAT assault
gear emerged out of the scrub bushes and surrounded
the Hummer. Simultaneously a dozen
squad cars with lights flashing and sirens wailing
roared down the access road toward them. "Party's
over, boys. You're both under arrest. You have the
right to remain silent." He held up a sheaf of papers.
"I have a warrant to search this facility and take
you and the suit. You and the suit are considered a
lethal weapon and we can use any amount of force
in our discretion in the name of officer safety. We
won't hesitate to kill you if you try to resist. Dr.
Masters, step out of the vehicle. General McLanahan
, stay right where you are.,"
SWAT officers opened the doors of the Hummer
and leveled HK MP-5 submachine guns at Patrick.
The helmet on the seat beside him was taken away.
"Aim for the head only, boys," Chandler, said.
"Okay, General. Do whatever you need to do to deactivate
that getup and take it off."
Patrick had no choice. He removed the gauntlets,
then detached the backpack power supply. Chandler
grabbed him and hauled him out of the Hummer
. "Hands on the vehicle, spread-eagle." He
began to search Patrick.
"How did you find us, Chandler?" Patrick asked.
"Give me a little credit, General," Tom Chandler
said. "I may be a desk jockey, but I can still add two
plus two.
"First of all, of course, you told the chief exactly
what you were going to do-in the hospital after the
funeral, when he barged into your brother's room
without checking with the doctors. Remember?
You told the chief about what you did, the stuff you
work with, the gadgets you could supply the department
with. The chief probably doesn't remember
that conversation, but I do. I didn't do anything
about it, though. Even when you showed up in my
office, I thought you were just an angry, frustrated
relative who had a few too many beers back at the
Sarge's Place.
"But that image was so different from the guy I
saw when you were getting ready to move your
brother," Chandler went on. "You looked and
sounded like a guy in control. You got Paul out of
the hospital right out from under our noses. That
took an organization and resources and training.
That's when I knew you were much more than an
angry brother and ex-bartender. I had my suspicions
about you after that, but I expected you to just find
a biker somewhere and shoot him with a handgun.
But then I did a little checking, hit up my FBI
friends, and found out about your military back-
ground-even about your stint with the Border Security
Force. Now you got my full attention.
"You screwed yourself with those two attacks
last week, McLanahan. My lieutenant briefs me on
two specific locations that she wants surveillance
set up, and a couple of days later a mysterious guy
wearing some kind of lightweight body armor
shows up at those very same two places and busts
them up. Way too coincidental. You got my division
bugged? You bribe a few dispatchers? Hell, my
detectives are so pissed off these days, they
might've volunteered information for you. You've
menaced this city, McLanahan. You've broken the
law."
"Oh yeah? With who? Murderers, cop-killers, f
robbers, drug dealers, child abusers
"So now you become judge, jury, and executioner
, right?" Chandler asked. "You killed a man,
McLanahan
"I did not," Patrick said. "I told you, it was some
guy dressed in a black combat outfit who spoke
German. He had a face mask on, like a commando.
The two guys suspected as being part of the Sacramento
Live! shootout, with the broken legs, the two
you let go-they were Germans too. That's no coincidence
, Chandler!"
"These Germans plant the bomb in front of the
doorway too?"
"Okay, that was me, but I didn't kill that biker
and I didn't try to rape that woman. I saw those drug it
deals at that house in Rosalee go down just like
your surveillance officers did. I saw that child in
danger too
"Oh bullshit."
"I acted the way any good citizen would," Patrick
argued. "I acted the best way I could with the resources
at my command. It may have been illegal, it
may have even been wrong, but it sure felt appropriate
. I have seen my family torn apart by these
creeps and whoever is supplying and feeding all the
chaos in this city. Hordes of innocent people have
been killed. I had the power to act, so I did."
"Sounds like a confession to me, boys," Chandler
said. "Place your hands behind your back." Patrick
did as he was told, and Chandler snapped handcuffs
on his wrists. "Frankly, General, I thought you'd
offer a bit more resistance. An Air Force general officer
, with his own private security team surrounding
us and a special suit that he could've used to
snap my neck in half-I expected you to put up
much more of a struggle."
"I want to talk with a lawyer," Patrick said flatly.
"Good boy-that's the right thing to say," Chandler
said. "But I think we already got enough to put
you away for a very, very long time. Let's go."
OFFICE OF THE MAYOR,
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, 30 MARCH 1998, 0747 PT
All the local TV and radio stations, plus a number
of national shows, went live at seven-thirty that
morning Pacific time in the office of the mayor of
Sacramento. Surrounding Edward Servantez were
the chief of police, the sheriff of Sacramento
County, the captain of the police Special Investigatibns
Division, and the district attorney of Sacramento
County.
The mayor cleared his throat and began: "I am
pleased to announce that an arrest has been made in
connection with the bombings around the state, the
recent invasion-style assaults here in the city of
Sacramento, and the large-scale meth-lab explosion
In South Sacramento County. Thanks to the efforts
of the Sacramento Police Department, in particular
Police Chief Arthur Barona and Captain Thomas
Chandler of the Special Investigations Division,
working together with the Sacramento County
Sheriff's Department, a new and significantly dangerous
menace has been removed from the streets of
our city. This arrest may also shed some new light
on the wave of bombings, shootings, and gang and
drug violence that has plagued this city for the past
several months.
"Arrested this morning was forty-one-year-old
Patrick S. McLanahan, last known residence and occupation
unknown," Servantez went on. "McLanaban
is the son of retired veteran Sacramento Police
Department sergeant Michael Thomas McLanahan,
deceased, and the brother of recently retired police
officer Paul McLanahan, who as you might remember
was seriously injured in the Sacramento Live!
shootout with police last December. Also arrested
was Jonathan Colin Masters, age thirty-seven, last
known residence in Arkansas. Masters is the president
of a defense weapons research and development
firm. Let me ask District Attorney Scurrah to
outline the charges against the accused."
The district attorney, Julianne Scurrah, continued
: "Patrick McLanahan was booked early Saturday
morning into the Sacramento County jail,
with the slaying of Joseph Brolin, a resident of Elder
Creek and a suspected illegal-drug maker and
dealer," she said. "He is also, charged with the attempted
murders of five Sacramento Police Department
officers, three civilians, and one child; four
counts of assault with a deadly weapon; breaking
and entering; and three counts of malicious mischief
with the intent to do great bodily harm and for
exploding incendiary devices within the county.
Masters has been charged with conspiracy to commit
murder and aiding and abetting in the commission
of a felony.
"McLanahan and Masters were arraigned this
morning in Sacramento Superior Court before judge
Richard Rothchild," Scurrah went on. "They both
pleaded not guilty. They are being represented by
attorneys from San Diego. Bail in the amount of one
million dollars was given for Masters; McLanahan
is being held without bail in the Sacramento
County jail. Masters must surrender his'passport
and may not leave Sacramento County.
"If found guilty on all charges, McLanahan will
have been convicted on more than three felony
charges. If this occurs, the 'three-strikes' repeatoffender
law would be invoked and he would have
to spend a minimum of twenty years in prison, plus
a mandatory additional seven years for each conviction
of attempted murder against a police officer,"
Scurrah concluded. "He can be found guilty on the
lesser charge of manslaughter in the Brolin death.
But my office is seeking a second-degree murder
conviction and the maximum penalty because of
the particular viciousness of the attack, and also because
we want to show the people of Sacramento
County that we will not tolerate vigilantism. The
death penalty does not apply in this case. That's all
the information I have at this time. Thank you."
Scurrah stepped aside and let Servantez step up to
the microphones again. "We are investigating the
possibility that McLanahan and Masters are part of
a militia movement and may have masterminded
the recent explosions in and around northern California
and indeed around the entire state, in coordi-
nation with other extremist militia groups," he
said. "It appears that McLanahan was trying to
