by Gordon Ryan
Culpepper smiled. “Well stated, young man, and true to your responsibility to General Austin. But you can talk to the man, can’t you? Straight up, I mean. Your father was his law partner for many years. Your family and his associated? Am I right?”
“You are, Senator, but I will not infringe upon that relationship. My line of authority is to Secretary Austin.”
“Again, commendable, but short-sighted. I’m sure Secretary Austin would agree. A close, even trusted relationship is important, son. Don’t underestimate the importance of access. In this town, it means everything.”
Pug squirmed slightly in his chair, becoming very uncomfortable with the request being presented. Secretary Austin remained silent, to Pug’s chagrin. Culpepper continued.
“What I’m contending, General, is that we are entering dangerous waters right now, in this present crisis. If the Congress enacts restrictive legislation on American citizens, gives law enforcement free reign, and remember my inclusion in that definition of law enforcement any PSC’s serving in that capacity, and then the courts, through coordinated agreement, uphold those changes, we may well be giving away our inherent freedoms to corporate executives who are responsible only to a small body of elected officials whom they helped, through financial contributions, into office. Not a pretty thought, General. We need to be certain the president understands that concept.”
“Perhaps you underestimate President Snow, Senator,” Pug replied. “And what about the liberal groups? Won’t they and their constituency oppose such a police state?”
“With every fiber of their being, I would assume. I’m not saying it’s a done deal, but if approved and supported by judicial fiat, how would they continue to oppose? No, the danger exists and it’s closer than any of us would like to think. Son, with Secretary Austin’s permission, I’m going to ask you to deliver a message to our president. Eventually I’ll speak with him myself, but for now, I need to stay publicly opposed to his policies to sustain my relationship with those proposing these changes. Succinctly stated, General Connor, I would like you to tell the president that I believe that if this new legislation, Domestic Tranquility, is passed, the Constitution will be in desperate trouble. Tell him that Senator Culpepper believes it’s time for him to recognize the danger and to move to retain the American freedoms that we all love. It’s time for our president to step up, to be a leader and not a pollster. That’s not meant in any fashion to be an accusation. From what I can see, President Snow has made an excellent start by avoiding all commitments that belonged to his predecessor. He’s shown himself to be his own man. If he comes out and opposes these proposed changes, both sides of the aisle will condemn him in the strongest terms as a weakling, soft on terrorism. He will likely become one of the most vilified presidents in American history, his name will be associated with lack of strength to defeat terrorism and an unwillingness to fight this invasion, a man reluctant to place in effect the tough measures necessary to fight internal terrorism because of his fear of the people. They’ll call him soft-natured, not tough enough to face an enemy in mortal combat. In truth, if he rises to the challenge, he has the opportunity to literally save America as we know it. If not, I don’t know where it will all lead, but I don’t like the prognosis. That’s all I’m asking you to tell him, privately and confidentially, since I can’t, at this time, approach him personally.”
“Senator,” Pug said quietly, “I do not meet directly with the president without his request or direction from Secretary Austin.”
“Mr. Secretary,” Culpepper said, his exasperation visually apparent, “do you concur with my request of General Connor?”
Austin sat quiet for several long seconds, his face unreadable. Finally he spoke. “I sincerely hope that the picture you paint is not forthcoming, but I concede that you’re far better positioned than I to know of the developing issues. As to your request of General Connor, I will seek a meeting with President Snow and assure that Pug accompanies me. But Senator, and you too, Pug, don’t be surprised if President Snow already has the situation well in hand.”
“My thanks for this impromptu meeting, gentleman, and Godspeed to both of you,” Culpepper said, rising to escort them to the doorway. “And let me know what you think of the SI proposal, Mr. Secretary. Jennie will give you my direct number. Call me anytime. Very nice to have met you, General Connor. I wish you the best in your regular job of curtailing these wandering terrorists. Your Trojan team has its work cut out for it.”
Chapter 21
Kensington, Maryland
April
The following Saturday afternoon, Pug had finally agreed to leave his office where he had been in virtual residence since the Trojan team had convened the night of the shootings. Each member of the team had been dispersed to various sections of the country to work with local law enforcement to ascertain requirements for surveillance where federal intervention could be of assistance.
After much cajoling by his brother and a directive from Secretary Austin to “. . . get out of here and recharge your batteries,” Pug had consented to attend his sister-in-law’s birthday dinner. The day expanded to an early morning round of golf with his youngest brother, Scott.
At 6:30 A.M. Saturday morning, Scott, Pug, and Scott’s oldest daughter, Ally, had been on the first tee of the Kenwood Golf and Country Club, where Scott had been a member for several years. In their traditional match play format, Pug beat Scott three and two. To the pleasure of both men, at fourteen, Ally was a natural athlete and had shot an impressive eighty-one, with one OB. On the drive home, Pug complimented the young girl on her solid game.
“She’s my retirement plan,” Scott jested. “When I turn fifty, I’ll caddy for her on the LPGA.”
“I might want a younger caddy, Dad,” the young girl had teased.
“And certainly a better-looking one, Ally,” Pug added.
Throughout the round, as Ally rode in the cart with her father, Pug had a non-playing driver in his cart and a third cart had followed the group. Once they were in the car on the drive home, with a black Cadillac Escalade following, Pug commented on the escort.
“Seems you have a permanent addition to your family,” he said, nodding toward the trailing vehicle.
“Something we’ve had to get used to. Dad was firm about it,” he said, referring to his father-in-law, President William Snow.
“Better you than me, brother,” Pug laughed. “Do they go everywhere with you?”
Scott nodded assent. “It’s not all bad. We get preferential parking at the mall and we don’t have to line up for movie tickets.” He laughed. “You still on for Sunday dinner? Megan probably has another of her exercise buddies lined up for you to meet.”
Pug shook his head, a soft moan escaping his lips. “I love your wife, Scott, but she needs to get off the band wagon. When I’m ready, I’ll shop for myself, thank you very much.”
Scott released the wheel momentarily and raised both arms in surrender. “Hey, it’s not my doing. Part of the price we pay for family love. You’ve got to know that you’re a special needs project for all the sisters-in-law. The rest of our brothers couldn’t care if you remained single the rest of your life. In fact, the way your golf handicap has dropped to single digits, they’re jealous of your free time. So,” he said as they pulled into the driveway of their home in Kensington, “let’s see what needs to be done before we go out for our birthday dinner. Megan’s not happy with turning thirty-eight.”
“Poor old lady,” Pug said.
Two hours later as they arrived at the Cheesecake Factory in Kensington, Scott, Megan, and their three children all walked toward the entrance. Pug had followed in his car so he could leave as needed and had parked several slots down from Scott’s vehicle. As he walked to join their group, he remembered that he had left his camera in the car. A few feet from the family, he waved and started to turn around, calling out to Scott.
“You go ahead, I forgot my camera. I’ll be right back.” Walking back
to his vehicle, a cluster of people was gathering in the parking lot and caught his attention. There were a dozen or more people in formal dress, heading for the restaurant. As Pug drew near his car, he came face-to-face with a woman walking to join the larger group. He recognized her instantly as Senator Rachel McKenzie. Her smile indicated that she recognized him as well.
“General Connor. How very nice to see you.”
“Thank you, Senator. I can’t say as I expected to run into you again so quickly.”
“Nor I, but it’s nice to see you. We’ve just been to a photography session at the park. That beautiful bride over there is my youngest daughter, Charlotte. She’ll be married next Wednesday. The bridesmaid standing next to her is my older daughter, Allison, who has not yet found the right guy.”
“My advice: don’t push her. It’ll happen,” Pug said. “My brother just told me that all my sisters-in-law are on the lookout for that special lady for me. I told them to lay off.” He smiled. “Congratulations on the wedding. Do you know the young man well?”
“The families have been friends for several years. He just finished his degree at Kansas State. They’ve dated steadily for about a year.”
“The younger sister getting married first. How does that go down with Allison?”
Rachel laughed. “She says she doesn’t care, that she’s happy for Charlotte. Well, I better hurry over and do the Mom thing. Nice to see you again.”
“And you too, Senator. Please enjoy the happy day.”
“I’d like it if you would call me Rachel.”
“My pleasure, Rachel. Take care now,” he said, starting to walk toward his car again.
After taking two steps, Rachel stopped and turned back. “General?”
“Yes?”
“Our reception will be held Wednesday evening at the Bridal Veil Centre. I think Uncle Bill and Christine will be there. If you aren’t busy, I’d be pleased if you could drop by. I know it’s short notice, but…”
Pug thought for a quick second before replying. “I’d be pleased to come, Rachel, if you can consent to calling me Pug.”
“Of course. Great. It starts around seven and it’s just come and go. And please, don’t even think about a wedding gift. This is very informal. We’d love to have you attend. Uncle Bill will probably feel more comfortable with close friends besides my mother and me.” “Well then, I better mind my manners. I’ll see you Wednesday and thanks for the invitation.”
Chapter 22
Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay
Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico
May
Fifteen miles north of downtown Mazatlan, Mexico, the five-star accommodations surrounding the Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay Resort and Spa shimmered in the setting sun. Palm trees, multiple pools, an oceanfront restaurant, a lush, green eighteen-hole golf course, and the peaceful calm of a warm Mexican night greeted the guests as they arrived. For most of the day, the shuttle had run between the airport south of town on the forty-five minute drive to the area called Nuevo Mazatlan, bringing the Americans from various arriving flights. At seven P.M., the group was supposed to assemble for the opening dinner in an area on the outside portico reserved for the fourteen guests and their wives, husbands, or partners.
In preparation for the upcoming election, which the inevitable polls said was viewed favorably by at least six points in eighteen of the twenty-three states, each state had appointed two members to serve on what was called the Structural Committee. This committee numbered forty-six members, plus three appointed staff with specific expertise in federal, state, and local government. That committee, in turn, had appointed eight members to what they referred to as the Constitutional Sub-Committee. In light of his recent work with the California draft constitution, Dan Rawlings was selected to chair this sub-committee.
Dan had retained the Montclair Advocacy, as he had for the California research, to work with the committee to develop the basic goals and objectives of the formative nation. Six staff members—PhD’s, lawyers, and one noted economist—were appointed by Montclair to attend this first gathering. To Dan’s surprise and great pleasure, the new chief executive officer of Montclair Advocacy, Major General Robert Del Valle, Dan’s former commanding officer in the California National Guard, was also coming. When the secession had been announced, Del Valle, strongly opposed to the intended divorce, had resigned as Adjutant General of California, and retired. Two months ago, Montclair had announced his appointment as chief executive, effective May 1st.
All in all, twenty-eight people were expected to arrive by dinnertime. The Montclair team, four men and two women, were all of moderate to conservative persuasion, in line with the philosophy of the emerging political leaders.
The decision to meet outside the United States, and, if possible, in confidence, was driven by the committee’s desire to keep the press at bay, at least until they had developed a basic outline of intent. Since Governor Jefferson’s announcement, every member of the leadership of the secession movement had been besieged by press. It was not expected to decline, and a meeting such as the one planned in Mexico—essentially to lay out the foundational format for the Republic of Western America—would draw media like flies.
The working seminar was scheduled to last five days. The male and female spouses or partners who accompanied the delegates knew that their respective companions would be involved every day. When selected by the group to chair the committee, Dan Rawlings had quipped that during the original American constitutional convention, John Adams might have survived on letters from Abigail, but he preferred that each attendee have someone to whom they could personally complain each night after a long day’s debate. The partners knew they’d see nothing of their companions for most of the working day, but once they arrived at Emerald Bay, the beauty of the resort facility quickly convinced them that being on their own wasn’t such a bad deal, especially those who enjoyed basking in the sun, lying by the pool, playing golf, or just being waited on hand and foot.
Dinner the first evening started the process. With a soft Sea of Cortez breeze wafting through the portico of La Cordeliere, the oceanside dining facility at Emerald Bay, Dan Rawlings rose to welcome the guests as the bevy of waiters scurried around the room, displaying their finest Mexican hospitality.
“Good evening to everyone. My name is Daniel Rawlings. I’m a state legislator from northern California and have been appointed to chair this sub-committee. This is my wife, Nicole, who tells me that after five days in the Mexican sun, I won’t recognize her when we leave to go home. I hope everyone here who will not be sequestered indoors for the next few days will take advantage of the beautiful Mazatlan community. We have arranged several optional tours and activities for non-delegates, so please, enjoy yourself, either in the community or around the pool.
“I don’t think everyone knows everyone else, so please take some time this evening to at least meet those at your respective tables. By the time we leave here, I suspect we will have made some new friends, and, if history is any guide, some new enemies,” Dan said to a response of laughter. “So, enjoy the evening and I’ll see everyone in the morning, 9 A.M., in the Cardenas Conference Center. With any luck, we will manage at least the first few days without the press getting wind of our gathering.”
As the dinner concluded and attendees began to filter out to their rooms, General Del Valle and his wife met Dan and Nicole Rawlings outside on the walkway leading to the cabanas.
“Dan, how very nice to see you again. I wasn’t certain you would be part of the delegation to this committee. Nicole, from the zest in your smile and the energy you project, one would assume that you’ve recovered well from your injuries at the hands of the Shasta Brigade.”
“Thank you, General. Perhaps getting married was the key,” Nicole said, holding tight to Dan’s arm. Dan pulled her closer.
“General,” Dan said, “are you here for the entire five days, or just to kick off the seminar? I admit to being surprised at your presence, give
n your earlier opposing stance on the issue.”
Del Valle nodded. “You were opposed too, Dan, as I recall. What changed your mind?”
Dan thought for a moment, looking toward the moonlight reflecting off the Sea of Cortez. “No single event, General. But the momentum generated by several other states inviting me to meet with them regarding our progress in California had significant impact on my thinking. The concept is far more broadly accepted than I thought. And my earlier meetings with Dr. Chambers from your Montclair staff opened my eyes to how far we’ve actually distanced ourselves from the Founding Fathers.”
“I understand,” Del Valle responded. “America certainly has come a long way from those initial concepts of freedom. Dan, my role with Montclair puts me in a precarious position. It’s possible that my opening remarks tomorrow may seem offensive, both to you and to your other delegates. I don’t mean them that way, but there are some things that need to be said. I hope you’ll hear me out before you form any conclusions. Why don’t we all have a good night’s rest and discuss the issues tomorrow.”
“General Del Valle, there are no opinions I respect more than yours, sir. I’ll give full consideration to any thought you have to deliver. That’s why we invited Montclair to moderate this forum. Now that you’re the director of the Advocacy, it will bear even more weight. Thanks for the heads-up. Mrs. Del Valle, please enjoy your stay. Till tomorrow, General,” Dan said, slipping his hand in Nicole’s as they departed.
At 8:45 A.M. the following morning, eight delegates and six consultants from the Montclair Advocacy had gathered in the conference room. A beautiful Mexican breakfast was set out on the sideboard and the participants were enjoying huevos rancheros, which was a combination of scrambled eggs and potatoes; chorizo, a spicy pork sausage, and a wide assortment of fresh fruit including pineapple, oranges, bananas, and kiwi fruit, or, for the more healthy minded, a simple continental breakfast of sweet roll, plus orange, mango, or pineapple juice, and coffee.
