December's Soldiers

by Marvin Tyson

  The three representatives of the World Bank stood to the side as President Barker spoke with the IMF people. The World Bank trio looked like triplets, all wearing black, three-piece suits and polished black dress shoes. The president thought he might forget who was who, except they each wore a different colored tie. He also noticed that none of them looked particularly happy to be there.

  At a break in the meeting, President Barker turned to Duncan McCarthy, who was sitting behind him, and asked him to go get Professor Sanderson.

  Amanda Sanderson was a heavy-set woman who carried her extra weight well. Her tailored wool gray suit was accented by a Mandarin-style black blouse, and she wore low black heels. Her silver hair was cut in a flattering, shoulder-length style, and her piercing blue eyes drew attention to a stern, mature face. As professor of Economics and Finance at Texas A&M University, she had a well-earned reputation as a tough-as-nails negotiator.

  She swept into the meeting confidently, close behind Duncan. She checked her briefcase with the doorman, and followed the chief of staff up to meet the president. Duncan introduced her to President Barker and seated her next to him.

  When most of the delegates returned to their seats, President Barker called for attention and introduced Texas’ representative, citing her background and credentials. Then he turned to the professor.

  “Professor Sanderson, thank you for coming today. I know this was short notice, but your insight will be invaluable. We’re here to understand Texas’ position in this international financial crisis. Can you tell us what that might be?” he asked.

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Amanda said, standing. “I’m happy to meet with such a distinguished group, some of whom I know. Texas would be happy to help, but there are stipulations that must be agreed to by every one of you for us to get involved. I’m sure all the other attendees have stipulations, too.”

  One of the Eurozone representatives, Alfred Merkel of Germany, the nephew of the former chancellor, spoke. “I agree there must be some restrictions,” he said. “What would Texas require in return for humanitarian aid and loans to the three needy countries?”

  Amanda turned to him. “We are, as you know,” she stated, “a very fiscally conservative nation. In order for us to participate, we would need to see some real progress on getting these countries’ economic houses in order so we’re not back here two years from now doing the same thing. In other words, we need to see concrete evidence that they can live within their means, support a tax environment conducive to growth and business opportunity, and put their citizens to work.”

  Merkel replied, “I’m sure we all want to see that, but we have to get the consensus of the citizens of Spain, Portugal and Greece to buy into anything we propose.”

  “No, sir, we don’t,” Amanda said quickly. “When you go to your bank to buy a home or new car, and you have shaky credit already, do they ask you if their rules for such a loan meet your approval? Or do they lay out the rules for you and say your options are to take it or leave it?”

  President Barker interrupted. “I think what Mr. Merkel is saying is: we are dealing with sovereign nations. That is somewhat different from buying a car. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No, Mr. President, I wouldn’t. The fact is that these people have a proven track record of behaving very badly on other people’s money. If they want Texas’ money, that behavior will have to change,” Amanda stated. Then she went on, her voice softening a bit. “Texas will offer food and fuel aid to equal that of Germany, and a very favorable interest rate on half the loan. The other half of the loan will be interest-free for five years. This will help these countries help themselves and restore their national pride as well.”

  She glanced around at the other attendees, most of whom had stopped their side conversations and were paying rapt attention to what she was saying. “We all understand the political minefield that elected officials in these nations will be walking through as they explain to their people why spending must be cut and a business-friendly environment nurtured,” she concluded, “so they can blame it on us, which will give them some shelter politically.”

  “You mean they can tell their people they had no choice in the matter, that we all demanded these reforms in exchange for aid?” asked Merkel.

  “Yes, sir. And one other thing,” Amanda said, reaching out to them with her uncompromising gaze. “Please keep in mind that we do not have a new constitution in place in Texas yet, so we’ll still be doing our best to live within the confines of the U.S. Constitution until we ratify a new one. That means we will need approval from the people, through their representatives, before we can move any money anywhere. We won’t get that approval without these stipulations attached.”

  She stepped back. “Now I’ll step out while you talk it over.” She got up, bowed politely to the other delegates, and left the room, pausing only long enough to collect her briefcase from the guard at the door.

  After she had gone, there was a period of stunned silence for several seconds before Germany’s Merkel asked President Barker if he could “persuade Professor Sanderson to listen to reason.”

  President Barker smiled. “I’m afraid she sees her position as entirely reasonable, as do most Texans. And I don’t exactly disagree with her. We can no longer pretend the public’s money cannot run out. That attitude is mainly what got us here in the first place.”

  After a brief consultation, the three World Bank representatives made their own proposal. “The World Bank has seen for a long time that the accepted model was unsustainable. But, until now, any real change that would result in stabilization of national or regional economies has been politically impossible. We are now willing to take the lead in insisting that any funds forthcoming from our resources must be tied to an economic model of no further debt. In other words, no government spending beyond revenues will be tolerated in our future clients.”

  The IMF had already been pushing similar proposals for decades and had been castigated as “pandering to the global elites” and “aiding the multinational corporate giants as they take advantage of poorer, emerging economies and their people” by such voices as Global Exchange and many others. “We are in Professor Sanderson’s court already,” the male representative announced, “so we are on board with her stipulations.”

  President Barker again sent Duncan to request that Amanda come back in, and the panel got down to working out the details, including the economic restrictions insisted on by Texas, the World Bank, and the IMF.

  As he looked around the room, Harold Barker felt certain that everyone understood where Professor Sanderson’s reputation came from, and she left no doubt as to the position Texas would take in international economic talks. Maybe we’ll get somewhere this time, he thought.

  Chapter 19

  Across town, in the Senate Cafeteria, Pat overheard a conversation between two distinguished men seated near her. Both were dressed in business attire, one in a black suit, the other in a three-piece navy outfit.

  “Did you hear the statement from our former president the other night, Mike?” asked the man in the black suit.

  “You mean he’s made an ass of himself again after saying we might send tanks into Texas if they didn’t agree with the U.S. on individual liberties and natural resources?”

  “No, I’m referring to the most recent one,” the guy in black said. “He must have caught hell from someone over that because he left for a long vacation in China a few days later.” Black suit laughed loudly.

  “I don’t get the connection,” the other man said.

  “Hell, he just got back from a month-long vacation in China a few days before he went on nationwide TV to make a fool of himself the first time. It must be the only place he feels safe anymore!”

  The two men chuckled as they walked out, but Pat knew this was a clue she needed.

  As she walked back to the Hyatt-Regency at the end of the day, she was already making plans to put De and Sammy to work on this when they
met in two days. But, as she opened the door to her room, someone grabbed her from behind. She opened her mouth to scream, but a rough hand clamped hard over her mouth.

  “Don’t scream,” a hoarse voice said. “I don’t want to hurt you or your baby, but will if you make it necessary. Will you keep silent?”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  Her arms were jerked roughly behind her and cuffed, and a smelly cloth bag was forced over her head.

  All Pat could think about was her near-term baby, and she knew she would do exactly as her captors said. She was, for the first time in her life, wracked with fear. Not for herself, but for the precious life she carried.

  Chapter 20

  Marty was about to be introduced as president of Texas at a Republican fundraiser in Dallas as Bill O’Hare rushed up and whispered to him. “President Barker needs to talk to you as soon as possible,” he told Marty.

  Marty nodded, and straightened the red tie he wore with his suit. He gave his short speech, trying not to rush it. Then he explained the situation to his hosts, who gave him a long round of applause, and headed for his car to return President Barker’s call in private.

  The two presidents had established strong lines of communication, and Marty had President Barker’s direct number. It had been set up to handle any crisis that arose during the separation negotiations.

  “Hello, President Kert,” President Barker said.

  “Mr. President, your message had a tone of urgency, according to my chief of staff. What can I do for you?” Marty asked.

  President Barker took an audible deep breath, as if he were calming himself. “Marty, we are in a situation that could spiral out of control here at any time. I speak, of course, about the bleak economic outlook for the Eurozone, specifically about their weaker partners―Greece, Spain, Portugal, and perhaps Italy.”

  “I was under the impression that Amanda Sanderson had given assurances that Texas would do its part in preventing this upheaval in Europe,” Marty said, frowning.

  “She did, Marty. But I’m afraid this has turned uglier than any of us thought possible until a couple of days ago. China is making serious noises about insisting on ‘collateral’ for future loans to anyone, including us,” Barker stated. “That could be catastrophic. As you are well aware, this entire global economy has been a sham propped up by paper and unsecured credit for decades. It’s a house of cards facing a hurricane. The collapse of any of these smaller economies could be the first in a long line of cards to fall, setting off recession or worse, depression.”

  “What do you need from Texas, sir?” Marty asked him.

  “Right now, we just need you to reassure the world that we stand together economically. It’s apparent that you folks are much better than the rest of us at preparing for this kind of situation. We need your guidance and support now more than ever.” President Barker sounded tired.

  “I’ll have a comment ready in a couple of hours, Mr. President,” Marty told him. “I’ll run it by you and then hit the networks with it. How does that sound?”

  “Thank you, Marty.” The edge of fatigue seemed to leave his voice, and Marty thought he sounded relieved. “You don’t have to clear anything with me, though. You are the chief executive of a sovereign state, and you have my complete confidence. Together, we just may be able to ‘pull the fat out of the fire’.”

  Chapter 21

  Pat was shoved into the back seat of a large car, apparently taking a circuitous route around D.C. She took this as a positive sign in one way; if they planned to kill her, they wouldn’t be worried about her knowing where they were going and they wouldn’t be worried about her baby.

  She’d developed a severe headache, no doubt because it was hard to breathe with the bag over her head, and she was trying to think about a way to leave some kind of trail for Sammy and De to follow when the vehicle stopped. She was yanked out of the car, her head hitting the doorjamb, nearly rendering her unconscious. As it was, she was woozy as she was pulled along roughly by two people until they came to what she decided was a locked door as she heard a key turned in a lock. The bag was ripped from her head, and she found they were in the back of an ancient warehouse. The doors slammed shut behind her, then she was shoved into an old office lit only by a hanging, garish light.

  Her heart sank. In the glaring white light, she was looking at the backs of De and Sammy, sitting in straight-backed wooden chairs, their hands bound tightly behind them and their legs shackled to the floor. As she came around in front of them, she could see they had been beaten so badly they were barely recognizable. Her finely honed instincts and training told her to scan the room for something―anything―she could use as a weapon if her hands were free, even for a second or two. She saw nothing but bare walls, the two chairs Sammy and De were strapped into, a recliner of indeterminate age, and two old sofas stacked on top of each other, covered in the dust of many years of neglect and abandonment.

  She was shoved into the recliner, which reeked of mold. She tried to draw up into herself, but the handcuffs prevented any kind of helpful movement.

  She tried to appear unfazed, keeping her face blank, but she was frightened for the second time in her life. She thought she could handle about anything before this but, now that her baby was part of the picture, she knew what true fear was.

  A small Asian man stood in the shadows at the back of the room, while two other larger men stood next to De and Sammy. None of them had said anything or even moved since her head was uncovered. Then one of the men who brought her to the warehouse spoke to the Asian in Mandarin.

  She had learned enough Mandarin with the CIA to recognize it. The Asian man asked a question, which seemed to be if the other men had been followed or seen on the way, and their answer, “Bu Shi,” or “we were not.”

  The small Asian man moved closer to the bound duo, including Pat in his glare. “I am Zhang Long. Are you going to tell us what you know?” he asked in English.

  “About what?” Pat replied.

  “Anything. Why are you here? Who do you work for? Answer me―now!” Zhang screamed.

  None of the team replied.

  Zhang nodded at the man standing by De, and he delivered a bone-crushing blow to De’s side with what appeared to be a leather-wrapped pipe or metal bar. The air rushed from De’s lungs, and he tried to lift his head toward her, shaking it back and forth. Another blow, this time with a gloved and clenched fist to De’s left jaw, left him unconscious.

  “Look, if you tell me what you need, I’ll tell you everything I know,” Pat told them. “These poor guys must not know anything or they would have told you by now!” She tried hard to keep the desperation out of her voice.

  The man standing next to Sammy walked up behind the shackled man, a wicked smile on his face. He yanked Sammy’s head back, almost breaking his neck across the chair back. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he glanced over at Zhang expectantly. When Zhang nodded, the guy holding Sammy’s head back cleanly sliced his right ear off and threw it to Zhang.

  Pat was amazed that Sammy didn’t cry out. But, before she could finish the thought, the wooden door on the side of the office burst open, and a blood-curdling “Allahu Akbar” filled the room, along with several blasts from a silenced shotgun and more cries she didn’t understand. Pat had put her head down between her arms when the gunshots rang out, and now she raised it. She gasped as she noted that the pair who had brutalized De and Sammy lay dead and Zhang was cowering on his knees in a corner. The gunman, dressed in Arab garb, quickly grabbed keys from a desk and unlocked Pat, then tossed her the keys and nodded to Sammy and De. His dark eyes seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t place him.

  After Pat released him, Sammy sprang toward the obviously terror-stricken Zhang. He slowly bent his beaten body and reached out his hand, picking up and putting his ear in his shirt pocket. Then he proved Zhang’s fear was justified. He picked the knife up where it had fallen and stuck it up through the man’s lower jaw, picking him comp
letely off the floor with the knife. Before Pat or the shotgun-wielding man in the aba could get to them, the last gasp of life was gone from the little man.

  With her CIA experience kicking in, Pat went through all their assailants’ pockets, looking for IDs, even a false ID. Only Zhang had any form of ID, and it was a doozey. The ID appeared to be genuine but, if it was, he was an attaché from the Chinese Embassy across town.

  Sammy and the Arab carried De out the side door and laid him in the back of a delivery van parked outside, Pat following. The four of them drove off quietly into the D.C. darkness.

  Chapter 22

  A press briefing had been called to allow President Barker to discuss concerns about the Eurozone financial crisis.

  “As you all know,” he announced to the media gathered in the Brady Briefing Room, “we have just concluded a multi-nation meeting to establish a unified plan to deal with the current crisis. I, along with heads of state from several European nations, as well as our newly independent partners in Texas, have been successful in coming to a viable, long-term solution that is in the best interests of all involved,” he said.

  Hands quickly shot up around the room, but he chose carefully who would get to ask the only question he planned on answering.

  “Stephen,” he said, as he pointed to CNN’s Stephen Plummer.

  “Mr. President, in light of the former president’s misgivings about the interim Texas administration, is it wise to bring them into this critical situation right now?”

  “Well, Stephen, the former president is not likely to have pertinent information on Texas, or our negotiations with them, that I don’t have. So I want to make this abundantly clear to everyone in this room and around the world. Texas has been nothing but above board, honest, and fair in all our dealings with them. We need them far more than they need us, yet they have made absolutely no effort to use that to gain advantage. They have been far ahead of the rest of the world in sound economic decisions for decades. We need their input and, quite frankly, their money, to deal with this now.”