A Mighty Fortress

by H. A. Covington

  “I don’t know if you know anything about Yiddish, but it is reputed to have twice as many curse words and expressions of insult as its’ nearest competitor, which is Arabic, and three times more abusive expressions and profane words than Italian. Leah called me a grober jung, which literally means rude boy, but it’s very disrespectful and insulting, and then she told me to go talk to the wall, which is a slang expression for kids sent to stand in a corner, but used on adults it is a very nasty way of calling someone completely worthless and contemptible. In return I called her a madele shandeleh, a shameful girl, only it’s rather stronger than that, and told her she’d been a whore in her mother’s belly.”

  “Your home life with these people must have been really sweet,” commented Captain Gair.

  “How exactly did this woman end up here?” asked Barrow. “Did she tell you? Is it just coincidence or do you think she might be stalking you or something of the kind because of the incident with your stepfather?”

  “My guess, sir, is that she’s stalking Secretary Stanhope,” replied Cody. “Most likely she’s already got him. I think she’s Hadass.”

  “What?” asked Barrow. “Who?”

  “Hadass,” repeated Cody.

  “It’s the Hebrew name for Queen Esther in the Bible,” said McCausland. “Only Queen Esther wasn’t exactly a queen, if you get my drift.”

  “I guess you’d better fill me in on what you mean by that, Lieutenant,” said Barrow.

  “Everywhere the Jews have gone throughout history, General, one thing they’ve always done is to groom a certain number of their most beautiful, educated, and intelligent girls as high-class tarts,” explained Cody. “They identify the most powerful Gentile leaders in their host society, noblemen and kings and churchmen in the Middle Ages, politicians and billionaires and intelligentsia today, and they more or less pimp these girls out to them. Among the Jews themselves it’s no secret that this happens. These women are called Hadass, after the Bible story, and this practice or institution of concubinage to powerful goyim is called Hadassah. Yeah, I know, there’s a Jewish women’s charity by that name. I’ve never denied they occasionally have a sense of humor.

  “But it’s more than simple pandering. The Jews are long term planners; when they corrupt someone they want to make damned sure he stays corrupted. These women are not so much spies or provocateurs, although often enough they do fulfill that function. Their purpose is to make these powerful Gentile men like Jews. You got some hot little Hebrew number in your bed rocking your world at night, you’re naturally disposed to give her people a break in the way of business during the day. Sometimes these are lifelong relationships, and sometimes the Gentile leaders actually marry these Jewish women. This goes way back. The Emperor Nero had Poppaea, which is why the Christians got tossed to the lions down at the Colosseum and the Jews didn’t. The Viking chieftain Ragnar Lodbrok had Meera, which is how the Jews established a brief commercial monopoly in Scandinavia when Christian missionaries were still killed on sight. Richard the Lionhearted had a Hadass, whose name I forget, which was how the Jews became what was called King’s Persons and the royal tax collectors. Richard went off on Crusade and left England in the hands of his Jews, which was why so many people supported his brother Prince John in his attempts to usurp the throne.”

  “You weren’t in any of Red Morehouse’s history classes, were you?” asked Barrow in bemusement.

  “No, sir. I just hung around in the downtown library in Seattle to stay out of the cold, back when I was a street kid. Anyway, sometimes these women run through a whole string of high-class lovers, a good example being Sarah Bernhardt in the nineteenth century, who gave the Prince of Wales such a fine time of it that he became irretrievably pro-French in everything and so was instrumental in starting Europe down the road to World War One. So forth and so on. These bitches have done incredible damage down through the ages. The classic example is the old Soviet Union, where every single major Gentile Bolshevik under Lenin, Stalin, and Khruschev had either a Jewish wife or long-term mistress. Stalin himself spent the last twenty years of his life shacked up with Rosa Kaganovich, Lazar the Butcher’s sister. In America we had a brief glimpse of Hadassah with the Monica Lewinsky episode under Clinton the First. Everyone wondered why Monica’s father didn’t come after Clinton with a shotgun for debauching his daughter, or at least criticize Clinton publicly. They didn’t realize that Hadassah is an ancient Jewish tradition and it’s considered an honor to have a Hadass in the family. Doctor Lewinsky was proud as punch of his little girl. He should have been. There’s every chance she put Clinton in the mood to betray the Palestinians at the 2000 Camp David summit, which brought on the second intifada and endless bloodshed.”

  “Ooo-kaaay,” said Barrow slowly. “And you think this Horowitz woman is Stanhope’s Hadass?”

  “She’s on Senator Galinsky’s staff, so what’s she doing running Stanhope’s errands and hanging around his hotel suite?” returned Cody. “Her husband is conveniently absent in D. C. and probably knows damned well what she’s doing, and even glories in it. The Americans must surely understand how potentially sensitive every Jewish participant in this conference is. The Jews would definitely want someone next to Stanhope during negotiations of this nature, and they must have pulled some pretty powerful strings to get the Horowitzes on board.”

  “Stanhope’s married,” pointed out McCausland with disgust. “Not that that means anything any more these days.”

  “And if you’re right, her husband is going along with this?” asked Gair incredulously. “Pimping out his own wife? Talk about your indecent proposals!”

  “I know it’s hard to understand, but these people are actually proud of the women who do this,” Cody said again patiently. “To a Jew, the preservation of Jewish life and power is the highest of all mitzvahs or holy acts. It’s called pikuach nefesh in Hebrew, and in the Talmud the rabbis all agree that saving Jewish life justifies any sin or crime whatsoever, and there is no sin and great virtue attached to it. Anyway, if I’m right, sir, you need to bear in mind who’s most likely whispering in Stanhope’s ear at night, and also picking up on virtually everything via pillow talk and transmitting the information to points unknown.”

  “Well, in that case your being recognized wasn’t a total waste, and who knows? Your language skills may yet be of some use,” said Barrow philosophically. “Look, we’re going to face setbacks every day here. Give me one of those plates, and you get one too, Cody. What’s this, a sub? Hmm, this is pretty good grub, I admit. Better than living off canned goods and fast food like most of us have been doing. Look, do you figure this girl’s presence here along with yourself is just a coincidence?”

  “I honestly don’t know, sir,” said Cody, who’d selected a kielbasa and potato salad. “But you should also bear in mind the media will probably bring out that business of me spiking Larry Sapirstein before I ran away and came home.”

  “Well, if that’s going to happen, they’ll probably lay it on you at this press conference at three,” said Jane Chenault. “Just be prepared to give them a short and snappy answer.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Barrow. “I mean, it’s not like every one of us here isn’t wanted for something.”

  “Besides, according to what I’ve seen on CNN so far, we’re now the Laughing Terrorists,” said Jane.

  “Yeah, well he who laughs last, laughs best,” said Barrow. “All right, Cody, we’ll keep an eye on this Horowitz woman. And your request for a transfer is denied. You can still be useful, and besides, if I sent you away it would break poor Emily’s heart.”

  Cody threw his hands in the air. “Why is it that this entire outfit seems to think there is something going on between me and Lieutenant Pastras?” he raved. “Jesus, you’d think we’d have other things to occupy our minds than schoolyard gossip!”

  “They’re just jealous, honey pie,” said Nightshade.

  “Jane, what’s your take on this press conference
this afternoon?” asked Barrow.

  “At least half of the questions will be put into the mouths of the reporters by the government, or possibly by one of the competing factions in the government,” said Chenault. “We should be able to learn a good deal about the way the wind is blowing from the questions.” While she spoke, Barrow was writing out a note addressed to Doctor Doom on a yellow legal pad that read Stanhope says TVs wired. This may be reliable, maybe not, check closely anyway. He tore off the note and handed it to one of the aides, pointing at the door, and the Volunteer left to deliver it. “But we’re also going to get a lot of silliness. This is the first real press conference the NVA as such has ever held, not counting a few interviews that reporters did with individual officers and people who served as unofficial spokesmen, some of them in prison, and of course that one famous interview the Old Man gave wherein he slipped out the order to attack the IRS and stop Federal tax collection. Some of these so-called journalists are just one cut above supermarket tabloid level.”

  “They must have bribed and cajoled mightily to get passes to this conference,” said Gair.

  “Not really, Captain,” said Chenault. “The fact is that the lower end of tabloid journalism has a truly mass audience, one that the American government can’t afford to ignore and has assiduously cultivated for years. For every reader of the New York Times or Newsweek, there are a thousand who read the National Inquirer waiting in the checkout line at the supermarket. And don’t even get me started on TV talk shows. You can expect some really dumb questions, gentlemen.”

  “Frankly, with this crowd, I’d be surprised if I got an intelligent one,” said Barrow.

  The press conference was held in the largest meeting room in the hotel, just off the lobby, and it was packed with media and cameras, standing room only. Tables had been pulled together along one end, and the delegation primaries from each side were seated in one long row, with the NVA on the audience’s left and the Americans to the right, each with a microphone. Howard Weintraub and Senator Jeanette Galinsky had decided to join their colleagues on the United States delegation, and they sat stone-faced, staring into the assembled reporters and TV cameras, pointedly not looking at the Jerry Rebs to their right.

  Cody, Nightshade, Jane Chenault, and others stood behind the seated NVA negotiators while blank-faced men in suits, possibly FBI or DHS agents, and one or two in military uniforms stood behind the Americans. Significantly, Cody saw Susan Horowitz, or Leah Sapirstein as he still thought of her, sitting behind Secretary of State Stanhope in her own chair, almost concealed in the crowd, but still there. She did not look at him. He leaned over and whispered “Hadass,” and Barrow nodded. Seamus O’Connell of Ireland sat in the middle, at the center of the table, separating the two sides, and acting as master of ceremonies with effortless aplomb, as if he wasn’t surrounded by people who wanted to tear each other limb from limb. He laid down the ground rules; he was to call on various journalists and TV people from a pre-selected roster, questions were to be directed to specific delegates, and he sincerely hoped that a certain basic level of civility and decorum could be maintained. Then he sighed. “Well, ladies and gents, we’re off to the races. I’ve drawn your names from a hat, and first shot goes to Ms. Anne Malvoy from Fox News.”

  “The official government network. Surprise, surprise!” muttered Barrow.

  Malvoy, a brassy and well-known anchorwoman whose talk show was even more stridently pro-government than was usual for Fox stood up and asked, “Mr. Stanhope, could we get a more definitive statement from you as to why the President herself is not present at this historic and to many of us still inexplicable conference?”

  “President Clinton felt that her personal attendance at this preliminary stage would have been premature and an unnecessary distraction from the many other duties of her office,” said Stanhope smoothly.

  “Does that mean that the President will be attending the conference and participating in the discussions at a later date?” persisted Anne Malvoy.

  “If she feels it to be appropriate, I assume she will let us know,” Stanhope batted back.

  “Interesting they started out with a swipe at Chelsea,” said Stepanov, leaning over and speaking to Barrow in a low voice. “Fox News is virtually the Pravda of America, and has been for a generation. Someone high up seems disinclined to let the Clintons distance themselves from these proceedings. I wonder who, and why?”

  “Mr. Roger Bailey, from the Atlanta Constitution,” said O’Connell.

  Bailey, the only black face in the crowd besides several of the American military police, got up and said, “Mr. Weintraub, can you assure the African American community that this conference will make us safer, and that the long string of racially motivated murders and acts of terrorism directed against people of color not just in the Northwest but in places like Washington D. C. and New York City will finally be brought to an end?”

  “Definitely,” said Weintraub crisply. “This conference is a major step in restoring law and order, but it certainly isn’t the only one we will be engaging in. We’re bringing this whole grotesque Northwest zoo to an end, one way or the other. You can count on that.”

  “Baaaaa!” John Morgan bleated at him like a goat.

  “Bluff,” whispered Stepanov. “He’s half out of his mind with rage and confusion. He’s a rat, he’s cornered, and he’s squealing.”

  “Ms. Janet Flyte from the Christian Science Monitor,” said O’Connell hastily, in an effort to cut off any more barnyard calls from Morgan. A middle-aged woman with a dark short haircut stood up.

  “General Brubaker and Mr. Weintraub as well, we have had a number of reports of American military personnel and the Federal Anti-Terrorist Police voluntarily confining themselves to their barracks, and in some cases apparently abandoning their facilities in more rural and remote areas of the Pacific Northwest, facilities which have been taken over by white supremacist insurgents who are now using them as bases of operation to terrorize loyal Americans and drive them out of their homes. Are these positions going to be re-occupied by Federal authorities, and action taken to preserve life and property while the conference is taking place?”

  “It is true that we are using the ceasefire to re-align and re-position our forces in some areas, to conform with military and law enforcement requirements,” harrumphed Brubaker uncomfortably. “That is to be expected, and there’s nothing unusual per se in the fact that there is military movement and re-positioning. I might add that I object to your use of the term insurgents. These are common criminals, nothing more.”

  “We are also aware of some of the incidents you refer to, Ms. Flyte,” said Weintraub. “The Department of Homeland Security is assessing these incidents on an individual basis and we will take action as we deem appropriate.”

  Morgan seemed about to make a retort, but Barrow silenced him with a gesture. Barrow leaned over and whispered to him, “Let them rabbit on. The more we listen the more we learn.”

  “I guess we’re just potted plants, sittin’ here,” grumbled Morgan. “Don’t look like they’re gone ask us anything.”

  Morgan was immediately proven wrong by the next question, from Maria Scopes of CNN. “Uh, Mr. Stepanov, is it? You are a Russian, are you not? Why exactly are you in the United States committing violent acts of insurrection against the country that welcomed you?”

  “I was born in Siberia, yes,” replied Stepanov. “I am fighting against a government, madam, not a country, and a particularly unpleasant and oppressive government at that. My place of birth does not signify, because my race is my nation, and I am fighting to create a Homeland for all of my people from every corner of the globe. Racism is the purest form of patriotism.”

  “Are you here on behalf of the Russian government?” shouted someone in the crowd.

  “I am here on behalf of history,” returned Stepanov.

  “Wait your turn, ladies and gents, please!” admonished O’Connell. “Mr. Meriwether from CBS News, please.�
� Meriwether was a well-known foreign correspondent, bearded and Hemingway-esque. He stood up and boomed out,

  “Robert Gair, did you assassinate the governor of Oregon with a rifle grenade two months ago?” he demanded.

  “Sure did!” replied Gair cheerfully.

  Meriwether turned to Weintraub. “Mr. Weintraub, you are this nation’s top law enforcement officer! This man just confessed to a terrorist murder on worldwide television! Are you going to do nothing to apprehend him? And why the hell are these people being allowed to carry guns?” he demanded. Weintraub turned green and looked about to gibber.

  “I will tell you what we told the representatives of the government before we came here,” spoke up Barrow firmly. “Throughout all of recorded history, the mark of the freeman, of the citizen, of the responsible male adult, has been the keeping and bearing of arms. We are free men, every bit the equal of any man or woman on the opposite side of this table or in this audience, and we will not attend or participate in a conference such as this under any implied lesser status. We carry weapons because that is what free Aryan men do. It’s a White thing. Dig it.”

  “Mr. Meriwether, you’re embarrassing Mr. Weintraub,” said O’Connell firmly. “There are countless examples throughout the last century of yesterday’s terrorist becoming today’s statesman and politician. When I first entered Dail Eìreann as a young wide boy, I had to sit next to Gerry Adams, who in addition to being a mass murderer was just about the most unpleasant bloke personally I have ever met. I put up with Adams and his I.R.A. louts, and you can put up with these ladies and gents so appropriately attired in brown shirts. It’s necessary.”

  Jane Chenault leaned down and whispered to Barrow, who spoke up. “Mr. Meriwether, I understand that you are a reporter and that a situation of this nature is of interest to you and your audience. But I don’t really think a long digression into our multifarious colorful careers here and now would be helpful. So I’ll tell you what. Later on if you like you can sit down and have a private interview with Captain Gair and he can tell you all about the various body parts he’s sent flying, including Governor Delmar’s. Would that be satisfactory?” Meriwether grinned and having gotten his scoop and his sound byte, sat down. Next up was Richard Pell from the Associated Press.