Ben had not seen Cassie for several days, but that in itself was not unusual for she had been doing human-interest stories and was spending a lot of time talking with the German people. About an hour before the push-off, she found him standing in the darkness beside his Hummer, drinking coffee. Ben offered her his mug and she sipped from it.
“Things are beginning to heat up back home, Ben,” she said finally, breaking the silence.
“Simon Border?”
“Among others.”
“He’s an asshole.”
She smiled in the darkness. “I assure you, he feels the same about you.”
“He’s going to run for President, hey?”
She exhaled in exasperation. Ben was always about two jumps ahead of her. Even as close as they were, Cassie had no idea just how massive the Rebels’ intelligence network was. Ben had operatives all over the world, but especially in America, for he knew that was where the greatest threat to the future of the SUSA lay. “Do you have spies sitting on his inner council, Ben?”
“I wish.”
“Well, you’re right. He is going to run for President, but that’s only a part of it.”
Ben waited. Around them, the machinery of war was cranking up in the warm, humid air of pre-dawn.
“Harriet Hooter will be the dark horse in the upcoming elections, and no one will get a clear majority.”
“Harriet is a fool and so is Simon Border. Neither one is a threat to the SUSA.”
“Have you heard that Simon’s Christian Front is making talk about invading Smithson’s Free State of Missouri?”
“Yes. I spoke with Billy about that.” What Cassie didn’t know and Ben was not yet ready to tell her was that Billy and his men were on their way back to the States. They had been flying out daily from an old military base in Italy since before Ben had arrived at the dead city of Rostock, days earlier. The huge planes that carried them back to America brought back supplies,
“America is going to be divided, Ben, torn apart in war.”
“When Simon invades the Free State of Missouri, President Blanton will have no choice but to send troops in to assist Billy Smithson. He gave his word on that.”
“The people of America will not support a racist state, Ben.”
Ben smiled. “The Free State of Missouri no longer exists, Cassie. Billy signed papers days ago. Missouri is now part of the SUSA.”
“What?”
“If Simon Border wants trouble, just let him invade a member state of the SUSA. I’ll kill that son of a bitch before he has time to blink.”
Cassie stared at Ben for a moment. She experienced a chill at his words, knowing that Ben did not make idle threats. “Are you giving me this story, Ben?”
“Yes. I was planning to wait a couple more days. But you can broadcast it now if you’d like. It should be interesting to hear Simon’s reaction.”
“Does Blanton know about this?”
“Yes. It came as no surprise to him.”
“Ben, are you planning on someday ruling all of America?”
He looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. “No. Hell, no! I’ve told you that before. Cassie, I don’t personally rule anything. It’s a philosophy, a way of life. People of like mind gathered together. I have no desire whatsoever to have to listen to a bunch of sobbing, whining, hanky-stomping liberals pissing and moaning every time a punk is caught breaking the law and gets his or her ass shot off by a law-abiding citizen. That’s why I will support and help defend Homer Blanton and his party. I want him in power. He can put up with the liberals. They are American citizens; they have as much right to their views as I do to mine. I just don’t want them around me.” He shook his head. “Why is the Rebel philosophy so difficult for people to grasp?”
“Ben, people outside the SUSA understand the Rebel philosophy. They just don’t want to live under it.”
“But they don’t have to live under it. That’s my point, Cassie. That’s what the Rebels fought and died for all those hard years—the right of a people to work and play and live under a government of their choosing, not one that is forced on them. You can’t argue that the Rebel form of government doesn’t work. You know it does—for those who choose to live under it. People who don’t want it can live under your so-called democratic form of government. Which was fine until people started tinkering with the Constitution and fucked it all up.”
As always happened, Rebels began gathering around Ben, walking up to stand silently in the waning moments of pre-dawn, listening to Ben Raines defend the philosophy they would all willingly die for. And several dozen reporters were among the silent group.
“Cassie, we don’t try to run people’s lives in the SUSA. We let the individual control his or her own destiny. The SUSA runs like a well-engineered and well-oiled piece of machinery. It just chugs right along without a hitch. Why in the hell can’t others just leave us alone? And why am I bumping my gums explaining this? You understand it perfectly. Why can’t your viewers and listeners and readers accept it?”
“Because, General Raines—” Bobby Day’s voice came out of the crowd. “—those living outside the SUSA feel your form of government is barbaric.”
Bobby Day suddenly found himself very much alone as other reporters quickly put some distance between Bobby and themselves.
“Barbaric,” Ben repeated softly. “Well, now. That is most interesting. The SUSA has the strongest economy in the world. We have zero unemployment. We have practically no crime. We have the finest schools and the finest medical facilities in the world. No one is denied medical care. There hasn’t been a racial incident within our borders in so long I can’t remember the last one. We have no slums. We pay the highest wages and have the lowest income tax, sales tax, and property tax in North America. Most people don’t lock their doors or take the keys out of their cars or trucks. The streets are safe to walk anytime of the day or night. We’ve set aside thousands and thousands of acres for wildlife to live free and safe. Yet you say we have a barbaric form of government. Now just how in the hell did you arrive at that conclusion? And make it brief, please, we have a war to fight.”
Bobby Day looked around him at the faces of the Rebels, visible now in the first gray light of dawning: Black, white, oriental, Spanish, Native American, Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist, Moslem, atheist, agnostic—all races, all creeds, all colors. Bobby Day had never been inside the borders of the SUSA. He knew only what he had been force-fed from the mouths of college professors, many of whom lived in such an insulated world they really didn’t know horse shit from hog jowls about reality.
Bobby Day turned around without replying and walked off.
The dawning was complete, gray light turning to colors of all hues.
“Kick-ass time, Boss,” Jersey said. “Let’s do it,” Ben said.
TWO
The American military knew, of course, that Billy Smithson’s people were returning from Europe, and they informed the President, who kept that bit of news to himself. More and more, Homer was taking cues from Ben Raines and holding back more and more from the press.
The planes carrying Billy’s people were angling south and landing at airports in the SUSA, refueling, and then taking off and landing in Missouri after flying through SUSA territory. Simon Border didn’t have a clue. But when he heard—reported over satellite by Cassie—that Smithson had dissolved his Free State of Missouri, opened his borders as much as the SUSA did (which wasn’t all that wide), and joined the SUSA, Simon threw himself into a towering snit. After he calmed down, he ordered a nationwide hook-up on his television stations and denounced the SUSA as the twenty-first century’s equivalent of Sodom and Gomorrah. “They even have whorehouses down there!” he thundered, waving a Bible.
They sure did. Ben had legalized prostitution and regulated and taxed it. The “ladies of the evening” saw a doctor every week and practiced safe sex with their customers. Consequently, sexually transmitted diseases were practically non
existent in the SUSA. Some of the preachers in the SUSA didn’t really approve of such things, but they kept their mouths shut about it and their opinions to themselves since the men who frequented the houses were not likely to show up in church anyway. Or so the preachers thought.
Those who listened regularly to Simon Border’s daily harangues hung on every word from his sanctimonious mouth and agreed that, yes, indeed, Ben Raines was the Great Satan and his nasty filthy whore-ridden empire had to be destroyed before Ben Raines corrupted the entire world. Just how that was going to be accomplished was somewhat of a mystery since the residents of the SUSA were all armed to the teeth with the most modern of weapons and everyone between the ages of sixteen and sixty was in the Army. The followers of Simon Border also knew that troublemakers didn’t last long in the SUSA and that violent criminals had a life expectancy of about a minute and a half—or less.
“God will show us the way!” Simon Border promised his listeners. “God will answer my prayers, and I will personally lead the armies of the Christian Front into battle and defeat the Great Satan, Ben Raines.”
“That guy,” Cecil Jefferys said after viewing a tape of Simon Border’s broadcast, “is a nut!”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that,” a battalion commander replied. “But a nut that we’re going to have to deal with sooner or later.”
“True,” Cecil said.
“Have you heard from General Raines?”
“The Rebels entered the outskirts of Berlin yesterday morning.”
The punks and street gangs who had occupied Berlin slowly fell back under the slow and relentless advance of the Rebels. This time, there had been no offer of surrender and it didn’t take the punks long to realize that playtime was over and they were facing the end.
European street gangs and their leaders were much the same as their American counterparts: cruel and arrogant, believing they were invincible. The Rebels quickly changed their minds.
The creeps took no part in the first few days of fighting, staying in the central part of the city and letting the street crap get bloodied and very dead.
Those citizens of Berlin who had managed to get out when the hordes of punks descended upon the city had returned with the Rebel advance. Using the weapons taken from the dead street trash, Ben, after his own people had carefully interviewed them on their political views, armed the Berliners and formed them into rear guards. Any Bottger supporters among the citizens were dealt with by the citizens of Berlin in final fashion, with the Rebels not interfering as quick justice was meted out.
West and his 4 Batt took the airport on the northwest side of the city, and supplies began flying in and carrying the badly wounded out. The airport on the southeast side of the city fell under the Rebel advance, and the noose began tightening on the punks in the city.
Punks, male and female, began staggering out of the smoke and fire, hands in the air, begging to be allowed to surrender. They were taken into custody and handed over to the German authorities. After they were I.D.’d and their criminal records checked, most of them were either shot or hanged, the rest given long prison sentences.
General Matthies and his people were pulled up from the south, and Ben handed over the remainder of the retaking of Berlin to them, pulling his Rebels out. With the exception of a few small pockets of criminal defiance in the countryside, Germany was clear. It had taken the Rebels and the resistance forces about nine months to retake most or all of seven European countries.
Now, seven more countries were added to the growing list of countries that made up the United Nations.
Ben stood his people down and waited for orders from the United Nations.
The orders weren’t long in coming: Stabilize Poland, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and Hungary.
“We’re gonna get caught in Eastern Europe right smack in the dead of winter,” Ike groused. “And winters there will freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”
“Oh, it isn’t that bad, my friend,” Colonel Wajda teased. “Wait until you get to Russia.”
Ben looked up from a map. “Ike, you take your 2 Batt and battalions 10 through 18 and go into Austria and Slovenia and work east. I’ll take my 1 Batt, 3 through 9, and General Wajda’s people and go into Poland and Czechoslovakia. Generals Flanders and Randazzo have their hands full trying to get some order into Italy. Lee Flanders says it’s the biggest mess he’s ever seen. Lee says there are about a hundred and fifteen political parties surfacing and everybody is talking at once. Lamar, make sure he gets plenty of aspirin. Lee says headaches are the most common ailments among his people.”
After the laughter had faded, Ben said, “Ike, you’re going into unknown territory in Slovenia and Croatia. We’ve made contact with some resistance groups, and they’ve agreed to meet you at the border and offer you as much assistance as possible; but if you feel yourself getting bogged down and over your head, back out. The resistance leaders assure me that you’ll be welcomed in there, but that’s iffy. Play it safe and cautious. Now then, I want as much intel as you can gather about the countries between Hungary and Greece. Serbia, Albania, Macedonia—if those countries still exist. But I’m afraid that intel is going to be precious little. All we know right now is that those countries are supposedly locked in civil war. And if that proves out, we don’t go in. Not without a hell of a lot more people than we have now. Cooper managed to round up a lot of maps and we’ve made plenty of copies. They’re over on that table by the far wall.
“Colonel Wajda, you’ll take Rebel battalions 4 through 7 and neutralize your home country.”
The Polish Colonel nodded his head in approval.
“Battalions 3, 8, and 9 will go with me into Czechoslovakia. Therm, Colonel Wajda has said the roads in Poland are in bad shape, so we can figure the roads where the rest of us are going are just as bad or worse. Logistically, this might be a real nightmare.”
“Where will I be, Ben?” Thermopolis, the ex-hippie, asked.
Ben smiled. “You’ve been bitching for months about wanting front-line duty, so all right, you’ve got it. I’m placing your wife, Rosebud, in charge of the detail work and creating a new battalion, 19, with you in charge.”
“Ben, if you leave Emil Hite with my wife, she’ll kill him within two days. Bet on it.”
“No, she won’t, because Emil and his band of warriors will be with you.”
“Oh, shit!” Thermopolis said.
“You’re the only one who can control him, Therm. What do you say?”
“Where will Rosebud be?”
“With us. Each of the battle groups—excuse me, stabilization groups—will have their own company to handle details.”
“Fine. Sounds good. She’s been saying—quite frequently of late—that I’m getting underfoot, and I know that is my cue to make an exit.”
“Well, that’s it, then. Start gearing up to spread out and start the push.”
The batt coms began trooping out, but Thermopolis caught Ben’s eye. “Who gets to tell Emil he’s back on the front lines?” he asked.
“I thought I’d leave that honor up to you,” Ben said with a wink.
“Gee, thanks. You’re just too nice to me.”
“Think nothing of it, Therm. Glad to have you back with us on the line.”
Therm turned to go, hesitated, then said, “Ben, you remember the first time we met?”
Ben laughed. “Sure. I have to say that we’ve both come a long way since then.”
“In more ways than one, for a fact. Ben, rumor has it that Bruno Bottger is still alive.”
“I think he is. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but I believe he did.”
“Any ideas where he might be?”
“Just one. Africa.”
“You know, Ben, I’ve always wanted to go to Africa. Rosebud, too.”
Ben stared at the man for a moment—ponytail and all. “If you think I’m going to send you to Africa, put it out of your mind, ol’ buddy.”
Therm wave
d that off. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. What I meant was, it will be interesting when we all go.”
Again, Ben stared at him. “You seem damn certain we’ll get there, Therm.”
“Eventually, Ben. Yeah. I think we will.” Therm smiled and walked out of the room.
Ben looked over at Jersey, sitting with her M-16 across her knees. “When the betting started, Boss,” she said, “it was about fifty to one against our going to Africa. Now it’s pretty much even money.”
“What is the consensus, Little Bit?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “The majority will go without bitching too much. Some people think we should stay out, but color doesn’t have a thing to do with it.”
“Not since the attempted coup, you mean.”
“Right.”
“If we go to Africa, Jersey, it will be only after we’ve completed our objective here in Europe. And that’s going to take a few years, the way we’re going.”
“And by then, you know what we’ll have to do?”
“Stabilize North America all over again,” Cooper said.
Ben looked at him. Cooper had spoken with a grim look on his face. “You sound pretty sure of yourself, Coop.”
“Yes, sir, I am. A certain type of American just can’t leave things alone. The majority gets a good thing going, then somebody else comes along and wants to screw it all up. Take the SUSA, for instance. We’ve got the best government in the whole world, with more than ninety-five percent of the people who live there in agreement with it. Yet we’re the most hated in all of North America. Why? Because people like Simon Border and Harriet Hooter and those mealy-mouthed ass-wipes who follow them just can’t stand it when they’re not in total control of people’s lives. If they’re opposed to someone’s smoking a cigarette, then the whole nation should be smokeless because they think it should be . . . and to hell with the rest of the constituency. If they’re opposed to the ownership of pistols, then all the pistols in the nation should be gathered up; again, to hell with what other people think. In the SUSA, we’ve got a near-perfect balance, and they can’t stand it. If President Jefferys lets his guard down for one second, those bastards will be all over him. They’re just waiting for the slightest crack in our security. And it will happen. No nation can be totally, one hundred percent vigilant all the time. And then we’ll have to do it all over again.”
Betrayal in the Ashes Page 14
