Uncivil Liberties

by Gordon Ryan

  At the Aer Lingus flight center, Carlos worked his way to the front of the check-in counter. The young woman appeared barely twenty, her dark red hair cascading down her back as her fingers flew over the keyboard, her intense concentration masked by the bright smile on her face.

  “That will do it, Mr. Castro. You’re all checked in, and, as I’ve already explained, upgraded to first class. You’re welcome to use our VIP lounge just inside the security area. Please have a wonderful flight.”

  Apparently Donahue had made the final parting gesture, upgrading his flight accommodations. Carlos Castro smiled at the thought. He picked up his boarding pass and his leather laptop case, stepped away from the counter, and moved behind the line of passengers seeking to discard their luggage in care of the airlines, thereby freeing themselves to hit the duty-free shop.

  Passing the roped-in area, Castro felt his Blackberry vibrate. He stepped out of the traffic aisle as best he could and clicked the icon, slowly reading the e-mail as people flowed around him, jostling for position.

  Dear Irish Tourist:

  Asshole convention will be held in East Timor first week in March. Attendees include a lone wolf, traveling as Juan Hernandez on a Portuguese passport. Remember, always wash your hands after attending an asshole convention . . . or bring your local wiper!

  A friend of the Old Sod

  Carlos smiled, clicked to store the message into the Save folder, and returned the Blackberry to its holder on his belt. He then cleared security, entered the VIP lounge, and took a seat near the overhead television. A room attendant dressed in the Aer Lingus uniform brought him a small plate of cheese and crackers and took his order for a Heineken. On the television, a discussion was in progress on Fox News’s “The Factor,” with Bill O’Reilly voicing his normal opinionated commentary. Carlos placed his laptop case on the small table beside his chair and watched the proceedings. He quickly recognized O’Reilly’s guest as Donald Read, a well-known liberal columnist syndicated across the nation.

  “ . . . in all respects, Bill, he should do the honorable thing and resign.”

  “Why, for heaven’s sake? He was the legally elected vice president. That’s how our system works, whether the president has been in office for three years or, in this case, three hours. Why should he resign?”

  “He campaigned for the presidency in the primary, Bill, and Cumberland beat him. Two others beat him also, so they should be given the opportunity to compete in a special election. Snow never appealed to mainstream America. They didn’t like him as governor of Arizona and they don’t like him now.”

  “You don’t like him, Read. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not America. And that’s not how our system works. Snow was elected to the vice presidency.”

  “Not really. Cumberland was elected, and Snow came along for the ride to pull in the western states.”

  “Your version of American politics is a bit distorted, Read. Snow might have brought geographical balance to the ticket, but there was more to it than that. There always is.”

  Read shook his head in disagreement. “It doesn’t matter. He has no right to be our president. He’s opposed to abortion, and Cumberland was, at least, open-minded. As governor of Arizona, Snow opposed increased funding to the needy. Plus, those rumors of an affair are probably spot-on.”

  “What are you talking about, Read?” O’Reilly said, his voice rising and his body language aggressive, leaning forward. “Bill Snow said he would follow the law of the land on women’s rights. The funding he opposed was to the labor unions, who demanded exorbitant multi-year contracts, and he’s the only Republican primary candidate who’s been married once. Absolutely no corroboration of those rumors has surfaced, and that’s with an army of corrupt media clamoring to find incidents of infidelity, reporting rumor as fact when they failed. Tell me that’s fair and balanced. You’re spewing garbage, Read.”

  “What about his racially biased stance on immigration? His granddaddy and great-granddaddy were Arizona Rangers, killing Mexicans even before Texas or Arizona became a state. He’s a racist, from racist origins, pure and simple.”

  Becoming exasperated by his guest, O’Reilly just shook his head. “I’m sick of all this racist crap. It’s gutter politics, Read, and beneath you. Look, you’re from old New England stock. Are you prepared to have someone poke into your patrician family history four generations back? You got any family members who killed off the original inhabitants of Massachusetts? Any rum runners who profited off the poor? Any railroad barons who stole Indian land in the west for right-of-way?” O’Reilly taunted. “What you claim is hypocritical. Every family has skeletons in the closet. The fact is, William Snow is now president of the United States, for better or worse. And I, for one, can think of a lot worse. That’s how I see it, but I’ll give you the final word.”

  “Just wait and see, Bill. The American people will not stand for it. Now he’s in charge of the federal government and immigration. The Hispanic people deserve better. His true colors will surface, and then the American people will see who he really is.”

  “Give the man a chance, Read.” O’Reilly turned to face the camera, shaking his head again. “We’ll be right back with the voice recording and transcripts of the Dutch airliner cockpit voice recorder. They clearly show that both pilots were killed—their throats were cut—by the terrorists at least thirty minutes before the Air Force brought fighter jets on scene. Those who are second-guessing President Cumberland’s decision to shoot down the airliner should listen carefully to these tapes and drop their ridiculous assertions that the downing of the airliner was not needed and that it was only a communication problem. Stay with us.”

  Carlos turned away from the television screen and pulled out his Blackberry again. He sent a quick email to the general’s secretary to advise her of his arrival time at Dulles International Airport. Then he began to make notes for his briefing to General Connor the following morning. Pausing for a moment as he tapped the keyboard, he reflected on the first time he’d met Captain Connor, his newly assigned company commander, back in the early nineties. Several battalion sergeants made bets that the new, soft-spoken guy couldn’t handle a tough situation. Two weeks later, returning from a covert Pakistan insertion, Carlos had new respect for his captain. When they had been ambushed by a local guerilla band, Captain Snow had killed four terrorists—two with a knife, hand-to-hand. Carlos never doubted Pug Connor again.

  But whether the new president was tough enough to meet the challenge facing America was another story. The media had made a big deal of his supposed anti-Hispanic stance during the campaign, making so many false assertions. Even the rumored infidelity issue did not bring Snow to anger. As a candidate, Snow had never lost his temper in situations where Carlos would have knocked the media hack on his ass. Carlos himself had been an illegal immigrant, but he supported control of the borders.

  Since his conversion to Islam over a decade ago, Carlos Castro, of Catholic heritage and the former leader of El Toro, the new name he had given his east Los Angeles gang, had become a gentle person in almost every circumstance. But like Pug Connor, when called upon to fight, Carlos Castro was a natural warrior, instantly and usually fatally violent to his opponent, as he had proved on many occasions.

  The new president was an unknown quantity, certainly pertaining to Trojan. As General Connor had explained it to Carlos when he reported for duty, former President Clarene Prescott had formed Trojan within thirty days of her ascension to the presidency after President Eastman had been assassinated during his congressional address the previous September.

  According to the general, President Elect Cumberland had been briefed in December, before taking office, and had agreed to continue the formation of the unpublicized domestic terrorism task force. But what about President Snow? How would he handle it? Resigning from the Corps to take this new position had been Carlos’s choice, and Connor had offered him a way to decline, but now the die had been cast. How long would the j
ob last? Would Snow kill Trojan? That question was yet to be answered.

  Chapter 4

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  January, 2013

  As the year 2012 ended, the state of California had entered into a twenty-four month countdown toward secession from the United States of America. Despite considerable opposition from state and national political leaders over the past eighteen months, a U.S. Supreme Court ruling that it was unconstitutional, and a brief, but violent military confrontation in Sacramento that the press had dubbed The Battle of Capital Mall, the people had spoken—three times, actually—at the polls. Preparation for the formation of the Republic of California began in earnest. The date for implementation was January 1, 2015.

  California Governor Walter Dewhirst, initially a staunch opponent of the secession, had responded to his constituents’ demands and called for international recognition of his new nation. Mexico, along with half a dozen other sovereign Pacific Rim nations, had responded affirmatively.

  The previous August, when secession seemed imminent, Daniel Rawlings, a young, newly elected state legislator from Davis, California, had found himself immersed in both a secret presidential task force investigating the origins of the secession movement and a gubernatorial assignment to draft the new California constitution. For several months, he had wrestled with the dichotomy of the two assignments: one to stop the secession, and one to prepare for its eventuality.

  Even the discovery by the presidential task force that the elections had been rigged, electronically, by a group of corporate financiers for whom the secession was a means to an end, did nothing to stop the steamroller effect. Convinced by the false vote tally that their fellow citizens were in favor of secession, the people demanded freedom. Freedom from Washington D.C. and burdensome taxation; freedom from confiscatory redistribution of wealth; freedom from myriad government regulations that invaded areas that most people knew were historically private: religious affiliation, sexual preference and even medical records. And freedom, when the judicial system was stacked against them, meant separation. Even in a state known for its liberal, ‘anything goes’ philosophy, enough was enough. The conservative voters, along with the vast array of independent middle-of-the-roaders, had overwhelmed the activist liberals and made history at the polls.

  Rawlings and the task force had discovered one of life’s truths: no matter the fallacy of the origin or the deception perpetrated in the process, the end result was the determining factor in public acceptance of change. The decision of President Clarene Prescott, following the assassination of her predecessor, Bill Eastman, not to reveal the source or even the presence of a fraudulent election, put the final confirmation to the issue. Legally achieved or not, California was on the road to secession, and so far, no one in national power had agreed to use military force to stop it.

  A month before the November 2012 presidential election, in an effort to broaden his understanding of America’s founding principles, Rawlings had contacted The Montclair Advocacy, a prestigious political think tank in California with a known conservative persuasion. Dan also solicited the assistance of other outside sources, including Horatio Julius, his former law professor at Stanford and a renowned constitutional scholar.

  Several meetings with Professor Julius and principal officers and analysts at Montclair gave Rawlings an entirely new perspective. In fairly quick order, these learned scholars opened Dan’s eyes to various philosophical components of the existing national Constitution that were intended by America’s Founding Fathers, but which had been abandoned. More importantly, their presentation of how these various components of governance had become corrupted over the ensuing two centuries by the political adoption of progressive philosophy that was antithetical to the ‘natural, God-given rights’ theory had broadened Dan’s concept of central versus local governance. Constant bombardment by Glenn Beck and other conservative talk show hosts sealed the lesson.

  The upshot was that after several months of study and analysis, Dan Rawlings, to his own surprise, had shifted his thinking, slowly becoming more open to the idea of secession as possibly the only way to truly start anew and restore the original principles. His approach was not directed at open, confrontational revolution, but instead, a reestablishment of the original founding concepts, thereby bringing America back to a nation based upon an equality of rights, rather than a nation striving for equality of condition, acquired at the expense of the more successful members of society.

  After the presidential election, Dan had been contacted by several legislators from neighboring states, specifically Nevada, Arizona, and Oregon, who asked to meet with him to discuss California’s impending secession. He had agreed to their request, considerably encouraged by the fact that states he, and other political pundits, had assumed were solidly liberal in their thinking, including his own California, had suddenly developed a strong, vocal, moderate, if not conservative, voice.

  When discussing the issue with his new wife, the former Nicole Bentley, a medically retired FBI agent Dan had met as a result of the presidential task force, he had expressed his feelings more openly.

  “Nicole, I had no idea there were so many conservative thinkers in California. Even in other West Coast states.”

  She’d laughed at his naiveté. “Did you think that West Coast people were all airheads, part of the ‘anything goes’ crowd?”

  Rebuffed, Dan joined in her laughter. “Maybe I did, despite my family’s long-standing conservative leanings. The media has duped me, I guess. They present their ideology as the ruling—and prevalent—philosophy.”

  “My father told me something once, Dan,” Nicole continued. “Most conservative people are just that: conservative. They don’t advocate, press for change, rebel, or march in demonstrations. Not until they’re provoked. They are, in fact, what has been called the silent majority. But since they are silent, the liberals believe that because they’re not present, they don’t care, and the media promotes that perception. Then, when they do speak up, they’re called stupid because they can’t see the logic and intellectual superiority of the liberal position. Who do you think makes up the bulk of today’s Tea Party movement? No,” she said, shaking her head, “the conservatives are there. Just give them a reason to rear their head. Inform them, inspire them, and you’ll see the result. I think they’ve finally had enough of the ‘some work, all benefit’ attitude, the stereotypical one-sided liberal view of equality for all.”

  On the flight to Las Vegas to meet with the other legislators, Dan recounted Nicole’s remarks while she cat-napped. The growth of the meeting, eight states now being represented, was ample evidence of her reasoning. Or was it? Notwithstanding a public display of a more openly conservative philosophy, both in rhetoric and action in their respective state legislative matters, these other elected state legislators had requested their meeting be held in confidentiality and had suggested they meet in late January, after the presidential inauguration. Were they ashamed of their involvement? That would become apparent soon enough, Dan thought as the plane began its descent into McCarran Airport.

  By the time of the meeting, five additional western states—Alaska, Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, and Utah—had joined the convocation, and what later became known as the First Vegas Gathering was convened. To date, they had successfully kept their planned assembly low-key, confidential, and, at last count, limited to approximately thirty individuals, all current or former elected state officials, including one former governor. Most important to the group, they appeared to have succeeded in being undiscovered by the media.

  Dan had not briefed California Governor Walter Dewhirst of the gathering. The governor had made it clear that Dan was to continue with his assignment to draft the new constitution, but Dewhirst had also made it clear that he was not going to run for public office again and was going to limit his involvement in the transition. He remained privately opposed to secession, and it was almost as if the governor was abdicating his responsibility to
serve as the chief executive. Dan accepted this limitation and had proceeded almost unilaterally in his efforts to create a document that would contain the governing principles for the new Republic of California.

  Nicole had come with Dan to Las Vegas, but was not going to attend the meeting of legislators. Although it was still January, southern Nevada was enjoying a warm spell, and the temperature was in the low seventies. The morning of the meeting, Nicole drew Dan to the window of their hotel suite.

  “See that patch of sparkling blue water down there, with the scantily clad people all around the edges?” she said.

  “Yeeessss,” he responded easily, dragging out his answer.

  “That’s where I’ll be, Mr. Assemblyman. Don’t call me unless your group declares an insurrection.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’ll join you when I can.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” she said, kissing his cheek and patting his behind as he left the room.

  At nine A.M. on the last Tuesday in January, 2013, thirty-seven people convened in the Cascade Room at the Bellagio. Morning coffee, juice, and pastries were on the side table, and several people were speaking in small groups as Dan entered the room. Inasmuch as Dan had not initiated the gathering, he was not coordinating the meeting or the agenda. He had come by invitation prepared to discuss his current work on a new California constitution, but to date had received no request to speak or instruct. The meeting was, to Dan’s understanding, ad hoc.

  Dan poured a cup of coffee and placed a sweet roll on a plate, taking a seat at one of the small tables placed around the room. Although the people in the room were state and local officials, rather than federal officers, several faces in the room were immediately recognizable as a result of their national prominence. Two other people, one male and one female, were already seated at his table. He introduced himself and they reciprocated. Both were from Oregon. Then three people seated near the front, two men and one woman, stood and moved to the rectangular table placed at the head of the room. The woman, one of those whom Dan recognized, remained standing as the two men took seats on either side of the table-top lectern.