December's Soldiers

by Marvin Tyson

  “Well, I have to be careful with passing information, Senator. We still have laws about privilege and privacy, especially when it comes to the president. But I’ll get what I can to you as soon as I can.”

  “Do you think those laws you cite will be as hazardous to your career or health as information our Chinese partners could freely share about you? Just do what you’re told and you’ll come through this alive and rich. You mess up, and you’ll be lucky if your career is the only thing killed. Do you understand, Smart?” Mitchell practically growled.

  “I understand, Senator. I’ll pass everything I hear along to you as soon as I hear it.”

  “Good. Now let’s have a quiet drink and discuss the upcoming baseball season.”

  After a single drink and some small talk, the men went their separate ways, Smart leaving last.

  Chapter 6

  Bill O’Hare stepped into a small room in the Texas Capitol building that was unoccupied and pulled out a cellphone that was only used to call one number. He pressed speed dial.

  “Hello,” said a raspy voice on the other end.

  “Senator Mitchell?”

  “Who else would it be, Bill? If anyone else but me ever answers this phone, just bend over and kiss your butt goodbye. We’ll all be toast. Now what have you got for me?”

  “President Kert has called a meeting of his top advisory team and has scheduled another presser as soon as this evening. I think he’s beginning to tie some things together, and it may be best if we lay low for a few days, don’t you agree?”

  “Look, Bill, things are speeding up for a lot of reasons, and we can’t afford to relax. No one has any reason to suspect any of us of anything. You just keep doing what you’re doing and leave the worrying to us. We have everything under control as long as we all keep our wits about us, understand?”

  “I understand, Senator, but you can’t blame me for being a little apprehensive. After all, if we are found out, we could all find ourselves in Leavenworth for a long time.”

  “If this blows up, Leavenworth just might the safest place on the planet for all of us. But it’s not going to end like that if you just stay cool.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Bill said.

  “You’ll do better than that, or there will be consequences.”

  “Yes, I know,” Bill said, bitterness making his voice sharp.” He ended the call.

  * * *

  Senator Mitchell sighed. Things never went smoothly when you had to work with spineless people, and the only hold you had on them was based on fear. And Mitchell didn’t know if he could count on Bill O’Hare.

  He slumped back in his chair. Now he had to call former President Jackson to reassure him the contacts they had established in the inner circles of the White House in D.C. and the Texas capitol in Austin were still greedy enough to keep doing their jobs, and too scared to talk about it. Both moles only had one contact, and that was him. Neither of them had a phone number for the former president and, even if they did, they would be scared to death to use it. Mitchell was certain both O’Hare and Smart knew they had gotten in over their heads with people who thought nothing about ruining lives or taking them.

  This was all going exactly according to the plan the senator and the former president had hatched, along with their co-conspirators in the Chinese underworld. In a matter of months, perhaps even weeks, they would hold more than half of the world’s crude reserves under lease or outright ownership, and be well on their way to being the wealthiest people on the planet.

  “All the butts I’ve been forced to kiss for financial support in all my campaigns will now be kissing mine,” thought the senator. “I can buy people like them and donate ’em to charity and never miss the money,” he chuckled.

  He was still slightly concerned about the inability of the former president to handle pressure; in fact, he didn’t think the man was capable of tying his own shoes. But he was confident that he could handle the pressure for both of them. And these hick Texans certainly didn’t worry him.

  Chapter 7

  There was more than the usual political wheeling and dealing going on behind the scenes. Some serious players from the Washington gay activist community were in almost constant contact with former President Jackson because they felt President Barker didn’t take their concerns seriously enough. Jackson seemed just as concerned about the rights they had just gained as the LGBTQ community was, if not more so.

  But this was far from a consensus agreement. What had been an almost unanimous political bloc during the election that put Barker in office had become deeply fractured over recent events like violent attacks on gay meeting places, most notably the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. One of these factions grumbled over a perceived refusal to address these events by those who claimed to be their biggest supporters, leading to disappointment about the direction the new administration was headed.

  The White House switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree as people concerned about the former president’s statements wanted to weigh in. The operator handled them deftly, but decided to put Christine Patterson, spokesperson for the National Human Rights Campaign, one of the largest LGBTQ political groups, through to Duncan McCarthy.

  “Hello, Christine. It’s been a while since we last spoke,” Duncan said. “What can I help you with?”

  “Duncan, we’re concerned about these statements coming from the former president, as you can well imagine. While some people may see this as protective of our constituents, it is anything but. These statements cause animosity that can’t do anybody any good, and they could do a great deal of harm, coming as they do while Texas is formulating its constitution, the very foundation of human rights in that new nation.

  “In addition, to be brutally honest, Corbin Jackson has a history of issuing great press releases and soundbites, while accomplishing nothing for us. We’re putting together our own press release, disavowing any connection to these statements and/or any concerns about human rights in Texas.”

  “I understand completely, Christine. And, if you don’t mind, I’ll run this by President Barker. If he has any concerns about this or your press release, I’ll get back with you, okay?”

  “That’s fine, Duncan,” Christine said. “Thanks for taking my call; I know you have a tremendous load on your plate right now. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Goodbye, Christine. Nice talking to you.”

  The public statement by the former president was getting considerable play on the world stage as well. A couple of international corporations that had never expressed any intention of doing business with Texas made announcements that they wouldn’t trade with Texas if any gains made by the gay community were eroded or “walked back.”

  “We have no intention of conducting ‘business as usual’ with anyone who turns back the clock on human rights. This is no longer the 1940s, and we will have no part in the mistreatment of racial or sexual minorities, and will not conduct business with any state that does” was the way the CEO of one large German corporation put it. Even though not a single business transaction had occurred between his corporation and any Texas-owned company that Marty knew about, he found a strange humor in the fact that the German conglomerate was actually headquartered in Bavaria, which had a large and vocal independence movement of its own seeking to establish a separate and independent Bavarian Republic.

  A number of world leaders opined that it was no business of the U.S. what any foreign sovereign nation-state established as law or what language they put in their constitution.

  The UN delegation from Italy, speaking through its ambassador, said, “What state or republic has authority to dictate to another state what its laws or constitution should say? Can the U.S. tell Great Britain or France these things? Why do they think the Republic of Texas should be under their thumb? Are they less independent than any other state? I say NO!”

  Thunderous applause roared through the General Assembly as he said it. World opinion was certai
nly in the corner of Texas.

  Most notable of world leaders speaking out were Russia’s President Grigori Fedorov and the new Chinese premier, Xu Keung. Premier Xu made it clear that he thought the “attempt at intimidation of a sovereign state” was “disgusting” and a “return to the old ways” for the U.S., while President Fedorov pledged his “full support” for Texas independence.

  Marty was disgruntled at these latest developments. “These statements could do more harm than good by turning public opinion away from support for Texas toward nervousness about unsettling foreign alliances,” he claimed. “We have to address these concerns, and quickly. But we have to avoid anything that gives further credence or a wider acceptance to Jackson’s nonsense. It will be a hard line to walk.”

  Chapter 8

  Marty decided to make his own statement the following evening, based on Pat’s advice. He allowed enough time for the media to cover it, but quickly enough to minimize any unnecessary public doubt to fester. He called a press conference to “keep Texans informed” as to the status of the monumental tasks of assembling a constitution, forming a temporary government, and ongoing negotiations with the U.S., knowing full well that the first question asked would center on President Jackson’s statement and foreign response to it, as well as reasonable domestic concerns.

  At the appointed time, Marty stepped into the foyer outside his office and walked slowly over to the podium set up with the usual array of microphones and wires. He placed a folder on the lectern, then glanced around at the group of reporters. BBC reporter Michael Pierce raised his hand and, at Marty’s nod, he asked, “President Kert, can you address the statement made by former President Jackson and the associated responses from around the world?”

  “Certainly, Michael,” Marty replied. “Although that was not supposed to be the focus here tonight, I understand the concerns about it. First of all, we need to understand that sometimes people say things that are their own personal feelings or ideas, and others take them as something more because of a perceived status or station. I think that happened with President Jackson. Unless changes have been made in the current administration in Washington that I’m unaware of, President Jackson is not serving in any official capacity. He is speaking as a concerned citizen only,” Marty explained.

  “But do you understand the concerns, sir? Do you plan on restricting the rights of minority groups in Texas?” Michael asked.

  “Michael, ‘I’ don’t plan to do anything about minorities or anyone else in Texas. Texans chose the path of independence so people who are not Texans wouldn’t be making decisions that are rightfully ours to make. I have done all I can to ensure that the citizens of Texas will determine what their constitution says and means. Those same citizens will write laws, set taxes, define our boundaries, etc. It won’t be me, and it certainly won’t be President Jackson.”

  Marty paused for a second, then continued. “I’m convinced that Texans are some of the kindest and most loving people on earth. They will do the right thing. On the other hand, it will be a very serious mistake to try to force them to do anything.”

  There were other questions, but Marty ignored them and just gave a short update on the status of the new nation before ending the press conference.

  Chapter 9

  While Marty dealt publicly with the media, Pat set to work assembling her team―ex-Marine Recon E-7 Demetrious Chambers and former Special Forces SFC Sammy Wood. There was a good reason she chose these two men to help her.

  Demetrious (De) Chambers, at six foot three inches and two hundred fifty pounds, could take on and whip just about anyone without any trouble. As big as he was, he was also agile and full of pent-up energy. Most wise men steered clear of him because he walked confidently, and his piercing eyes were like two stinger missiles honing in on his designated target. Those eyes, unusual in an African-American, caught and held the eyes of others until they backed off.

  Sammy Wood was a solid six feet two inches and weighed in at two hundred forty pounds. His shaved dark head gleamed in any kind of light; he had a reputation as an unbeatable arm wrestler, and he moved like a tank crashing through a grove of trees. Unless, of course, he was sneaking up on you to put you out of your misery, in which case you had no clue he was about to punch your lights out.

  The two special operators, hired initially by Mrs. Travis, were as good as they came in a tight spot, and were as loyal to Texas as anyone.

  Pat heard a light tap and opened the door of her room at the Skyline Motor Lodge outside Austin, revealing Sammy and De standing on the concrete walkway, each with a small overnight bag. She motioned them in and closed the door after leaning out to make sure no one was watching. She’d rented the room under the name Janet Whitestone, an identity she’d created in her previous employment but never had to use. It shouldn’t be on anyone’s radar, but one could never be too careful.

  She’d gotten a corner room on the second floor so she could keep an eye on the comings and goings outside. She sent a coded text from a burn phone to De, giving him the location. It was nine o’clock and already dark when they arrived.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly, guys,” she said, pointing them to the only two chairs in the room. She sat on the bed. “We’ve got a lot to get done and not much time to plan. First of all, what kinds of weapons do we need?”

  After an assessment of what each of them thought they’d need, Pat decided on an easily concealable Sig 9mm. semi-automatic pistol. Each of the guys decided on 1911 Colt .45 automatic pistols for concealed carry and MAC-10 .45 ACPs that could be carried in a briefcase. These were both good weapons that had the added bonus of using the same ammo. Pat made up a list and texted it to Jake Lambert, who had been designated by Marty to procure the firearms.

  “I’m sure you guys saw President Jackson’s wonderful speech yesterday. Here’s the way I see it,” Pat said, “we need information on what Jackson is trying to do. I know where to hang out to hear the latest gossip and chatter from the Capitol crowd, and I’ll set myself up as a writer for my cover, so I can sit there with a computer and just absorb info. As for you guys, you can hang out with some of the elites part of the time, and hookers the rest of the time. Anything that happens in the Capitol soon gets around. You just have to keep your eyes and ears open.”

  She tossed Sammy a key. “You guys have the room next door. Get your stuff together and we’ll meet here at six a.m. and load up.”

  “What about the weapons?” De asked.

  “Being taken care of even as we speak,” Pat said. She ushered the guys out and closed her own door as soon as she heard theirs open. It would be a short night, and she needed her sleep.

  The next morning, she had the weaponry laid out on her neatly made bed. The impressive array of weapons Jake had delivered a half hour earlier covered more than half the mattress, and the other part was covered with communications and surveillance equipment. At six sharp, there was a knock on her door, and she let Sammy and De back in. They looked ready to hit the road.

  “Wow, Pat, I’m impressed. How’d you get your hands on all this so quickly?” De asked.

  She shrugged. “No big deal.” Then she flashed him one of her signature grins. “I have friends in low places!”

  “I’ll say,” Sammy agreed.

  It took them about ten minutes to load and secure their weapons and pack their gear. Pat admired her Sig for a minute before tucking it into a specially made waistband holster, the only equipment she’d brought from home.

  She pulled a stack of money from her jacket and handed De and Sammy each a rubber-banded packet.

  “You’re going to have expenses,” she told them. “Pay for everything with cash if you can, okay?”

  “You got it, boss,” Sammy said.

  Now all they needed was a vehicle. Using her fake ID, Pat rented a white Suburban from a nearby cheap rental place and they headed out. It would be about a twenty-hour drive, so they’d take shifts to get to Washington as quickly as po
ssible

  Chapter 10

  In Washington, President Barker was briefed on a suspected hacking at the U.S. Department of Energy.

  “It appears someone has hacked through our security and into the department’s classified files on petroleum reserves throughout the country, sir,” Deputy Director Kimberly Himmel told him. Director Himmel was a slim, mid-fifties woman whose navy-and-white pinstripe jacket and straight skirt fit her perfectly. Her red hair was caught up in a bun held in place by a gold barrette.

  President Barker frowned. “You said ‘petroleum reserves.’ Are the files dealing with renewables and nuclear kept separately? I probably should know all this, but I don’t.”

  “No, sir,” Kimberly told him. “All the files are on the same mainframe, but only those dealing with petroleum appear to have been looked at and probably copied.”

  “Most of that info is public anyway, isn’t it?” asked the president.

  “Yes, sir, most of it is. But, as you know, new finds have been verified at both Bakken and in the Gulf of Mexico, as well as Eagle Ford in Texas. The extent of these finds has not been made public in order to avoid a negative influence on crude markets.” Kimberly was swiping her tablet screen, scrolling down pages of information.

  “You mean causing the bottom to drop out of crude and fuel prices, as well as futures, right?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s it in a nutshell,” she confirmed. “In addition to that, we have increased our strategic reserve to almost double the publicized eight hundred million barrels. We now hold about one point five billion barrels in the SPR.”

  “Do we know who’s responsible for the breach?” the president inquired.

  “We don’t have absolute proof, but it has the smell of Chinese Army operatives all over it.” A puzzled look crossed her face. “We just can’t figure out what they have to gain. It seems to make more sense that they would have gone after the nuclear stuff.”