They both made excuses to their wives for being away overnight. Tomás told Teresa he was attending an IT conference in Orlando. Santos told Maria he had to work at the Tampa airport, which was too far away to commute. They booked a room at one of the local motels that take cash. After their excursion, they would ditch the car and go there to catch a few hours of sleep.
The job went off without a hitch. The shotgun blasts made a lot of noise at two in the morning, and the people who were on the sidewalks or in their cars at that hour got a brief bit of excitement, but they didn’t think to take photos with their cell phones, and no one even considered following them or trying to stop them. They both wore stockings over their heads, just in case. They didn’t want to be identified.
The whole adventure was over in a few minutes. They blew out the cameras they needed to blow out, plus a few more for good measure. The police probably wouldn’t think the camera caper was tied in to the assassinations until after they had made their escape.
After completing the mission, Tomás sent a one-word text message to Wellington – DONE.
91
“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.”
Thomas Jefferson
“If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, there is then no recourse left but in the exertion of that original right of self-defense which is paramount to all positive forms of government.”
Alexander Hamilton
Lunch was scheduled for 1pm. Debbie Waterstein arrived at 12:45pm in a limo with an armed driver and two body guards. But she didn’t merely arrive. She made an entrance. She blocked traffic on Las Olas as she got out of the car. The two body guards were large, fit and dressed in dark suits, wearing sun glasses. One of them escorted her inside. The other one stayed outside, and took a position just to the left of the front door. The driver removed the orange cones that had been placed on the street in front of the restaurant and parked in the space that the local police had reserved for her.
It was nearly impossible to find parking on Las Olas Boulevard on a Saturday afternoon. Regular people had to park on a side street or in one of the several parking lots in the neighborhood. Debbie was not a regular person. Power had its privilege.
Jack Lunn arrived a few minutes later with just a driver, who wasn’t carrying a weapon, and no body guards. He had to open his own door. He wasn’t as high on the food chain as Congresswoman Waterstein. His driver had to find a place to park at one of the municipal parking lots.
When Lunn walked into the restaurant, Debbie was already seated, being served by an entourage of restaurant staff. She got up to greet him, giving him a little air kiss.
“Hi Jack. Glad you could make it. I have a few ideas I want to bounce off you.”
“Great. I have an idea I’d like to bounce off you, too.”
After some preliminary chit chat they got down to business. Debbie started off.
“Jack, I’m getting really disturbed by these Tea Party types. They disrupted the last election and got some of their people elected. Some of my best friends got kicked out of office. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“Yeah, some of my best friends are gone, too. Those IRS audits we pushed for slowed them down, but didn’t stop them. I take it you have an idea that might do the trick?”
“Yes, I do. I plan to sponsor legislation that will shut them up. I’ll structure it like a no trespassing bill. It will make it a federal crime to do anything that disrupts the normal business of government. If they demonstrate anywhere around a government building, they’ll be arrested for disrupting normal government business. People who hold up a sign with political content on a sidewalk will get arrested if the people driving by slow down to read it. Anyone who makes a statement at a town hall meeting that’s disruptive gets arrested. We can word the legislation so vaguely that we’ll be able to use it against those Tea Party people practically any time they do anything. We’ll be able to have them arrested before they can cause any trouble and the cost of defending themselves constantly will bankrupt them.”
“That sounds good to me. The last four or five town hall meetings I went to, someone stood up to complain about my voting record. We could use that law to argue they came to the meeting with the intent to disrupt government business, since those town hall meetings are technically government business.”
“Exactly. I think it’ll work, but here’s the problem, Jack. My staff’s too busy to draft the legislation. Could your staff do the drafting? We could co-sponsor it.”
“Yeah, I think we could do it. I’ll ask Steve to coordinate it when I get back to Washington.”
“I have something to bounce off you, too, Debbie.”
“Sure, what is it Jack?” The restaurant was noisy and it was difficult to hear what he was saying. She leaned forward to hear better.
“You must have heard about those recent cases where juries let people off for killing government officials.”
“Sure. It was all over the news. You couldn’t miss it.”
Jack looked around to see if anyone was listening. “One guy executed an IRS agent for shutting down his business. Another guy killed an EPA official for shutting down his farm. Some woman wasted two DEA agents for breaking into her house because they mistakenly got the wrong address. Juries set them all free.”
“Yes, I remember those cases. The juries found them not guilty because they thought it was justifiable homicide.”
“We have to make sure this kind of stuff can’t continue to happen. We can’t have people killing federal officials and getting let off the hook by some jury and calling it justifiable homicide. If we allow it to continue, everybody will start shooting government officials. There’s no telling where it will stop. Maybe they’ll start shooting us.”
“They already have started shooting us, Jack. They got Tom Garrett. Their note said they plan to get more of us. What can we do to stop them?”
“I plan to sponsor legislation that would classify anyone who kills any government employee as a terrorist. If we do that, the Patriot Act provisions will kick in and they won’t be entitled to a jury trial, or any kind of a trial, for that matter. We can lock them up and just forget about them. Or maybe subject them to enhanced interrogation until they have a heart attack.”
He snickered as he said it. He liked the idea. It reminded him of recent press reports where several demonstrators who were arrested at a town hall meeting died mysteriously while in custody. Requests for autopsies by the families were refused for national security reasons.
“That sounds like an excellent solution, Jack. I’d like to co-sponsor that bill with you.”
“Jack, we have to do something about this secession movement. People are going around collecting signatures on petitions. Some state legislatures are passing resolutions and a few of them have already voted to secede. We have to stop it.”
“I agree, but how are we going to do it?”
“I don’t know. We could introduce some kind of legislation in the House and the Senate, but I don’t know how we could word it so that it would pass. There would be too much opposition.”
“How about passing a law that defines treason to include advocating secession or signing a petition to secede or passing a resolution to secede?”
“Yes, that would do it, but again, I don’t think we could get enough votes to pass it. The states that want to secede wouldn’t support it, and many of the representatives from the other states wouldn’t support changing the definition of treason even if they didn’t support secession.”
“Well, in that case we could ask the president to issue an Executive Order. That way we wouldn’t have to go through Congress.”
“Jack, that’s a brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of it?”
“I’m sure you would have. I’m honored to have beat you to the punch.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Debbie smiled,
raised her wine glass and took a sip. “I’ll talk to the president when I see him next week.”
***
The conversation continued over lunch and dessert. Meanwhile, Wellington’s crew scouted out the area and plotted their strategy.
Wellington and Jim Bennett sat at an outdoor café across the street, observing the restaurant. “John, I have a suggestion for amending the plan.”
“OK, let’s hear it.”
“Rather than pump a few Frag 12s into the pavement, let’s wait until Debbie gets into the limo, then pump a few rounds into the windows. We can do one round into the back seat, then one into the front seat. That should take out Debbie, the driver and both body guards.”
Wellington agreed. “I like it. Let’s do it. What about Jack Lunn and his driver?”
“Lunn will probably come out at the same time as Debbie. If he’s within range, we can whack him then, either with the AA12 or with a few pistol shots. If his driver gets out of the car with a gun, we can whack him, too. Otherwise, we’ll leave the driver alone. I don’t like killing civilians if I can help it.”
“OK. Sounds good. I don’t like wasting civilians, either. I don’t mind whacking Debbie’s driver, though. I don’t think he’s a civilian. He looks like Secret Service. Anyone who defends a termite should be treated like a termite.” Wellington called in the change in plans to Santos, who was awaiting instructions.
Shortly after 2:30 they emerged from the restaurant together. Jack Lunn’s driver was nowhere to be seen, but it was fair to guess that Lunn had called him and that he was on his way. Santos stood around the corner from the restaurant with the AA12, awaiting instructions. Tomás waited in the getaway car. Wellington and Bennett continued to sit at the café across the street, ready to assist if needed.
Wellington picked up his cell phone and called Santos. “Get ready.”
Jack and Debbie said their good-byes. Debbie got into the limo on the curb side. One of the Secret Service agents closed her door, walked around the back of the car and got in on the street side. The second Secret Service agent got in the front seat on the passenger side. Jack Lunn continued to stand on the sidewalk, waiting for his driver to arrive.
“Now!”
Santos heard Wellington’s command and turned the corner, the AA12 at his side. When he was about 30 feet from the car, he raised it, aimed at the middle of the front windshield and squeezed off the first round. BLAM! The shell hit the window, exploding immediately and sending fragments into the heads and upper torsos of all four passengers.
The blast caused Lunn and the other pedestrians to freeze. All eyes were on Santos as he shifted left and aimed at Lunn. He pointed at Lunn’s midsection and squeezed. BLAM! The second round exploded on impact, cutting Lunn in half and sending additional fragments into the car on Debbie’s side. Several pedestrians got splattered with his blood and guts, but none of them sustained injuries.
The driver and both Secret Service agents were out of commission, making it safe for Santos to walk around to the street side and pump the third round into Debbie, who was slumped in the seat. It wasn’t necessary. She was already dead, killed by the first round. The left side of her head was missing. It would be a closed casket ceremony for all of them.
Santos ran back to the corner, turned right and jumped into the getaway car. Tomás sped off and took the prearranged escape route. Wellington and Bennett were still across the street, sitting at an outside table in the café. Their services weren’t needed. As everyone else in the café got up and stared across the street, they stood up and quickly walked toward the lot where their car was parked.
Lunn’s driver was a block down the road, on the way to pick up his boss, but couldn’t get close to the restaurant. The street was clogged with cars and people, who were running from across the street to see the carnage up close. It was his lucky day. He would be able to attend Lunn’s funeral from an upright position.
92
“The duty of a patriot is to protect his country from its government.”
Thomas Paine
“It doesn't take a majority to make a rebellion; it takes only a few determined leaders and a sound cause.”
H. L. Mencken
“A wise and frugal government … shall restrain men from injuring one another, shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government.”
Thomas Jefferson
After Wellington and Bennett escaped from the scene, they pulled over so that Wellington could send a message to the press and various internet sites.
Greetings. The Sons of Liberty struck another blow for freedom this afternoon with the killing of Representatives Debbie Waterstein and Jack Lunn. Members of Congress who advocate higher taxes and more government regulations need to be exterminated. We are not under taxed or under regulated. Our elected representatives are spending our children’s inheritance. Those who advocate class warfare and use the General Welfare clause of the Constitution as an excuse to cram their personal agendas down our throats will be dealt with firmly. Such vermin are gnawing away at the fabric of America. It is up to us and other true representatives of the American people to stop them. We will continue to do so. Let this be a warning to members of Congress. Unless you stop undermining our heritage and return government to its proper function of protecting life, liberty and property and nothing else, you will be targeted, and we will get you.
SONS OF LIBERTY
The message went viral. Radio and television stations interrupted regularly scheduled programming to report on and discuss the assassinations. Reporters and journalists interviewed members of Congress. Some got defensive, stating that the killers were mentally unbalanced and needed help, always denying that Congress no longer represented the people. Others went on the offensive and advocated more funds for federal law enforcement, more subsidies to local police and more cameras, wiretapping and internet surveillance. Some advocated random searches, confiscation of guns and suspension of the Constitution.
Some politicians tried to minimize the message the Sons of Liberty were trying to spread. One member of Congress said, in a television interview, “I think this is a local thing. If you notice, all the killings took place in Miami or Fort Lauderdale, which are only a few miles apart. It’s probably just a small group of people, probably no more than one or two individuals, who are responsible for all this.”
“Do you think there will be more killings?”
“It looks that way, unless we can stop them. I plan to introduce a bill in Congress on Monday morning that will provide more funding for local police and will allow the FBI, TSA or other federal agency to commandeer local police forces to look for these people and other groups like them. We’ll get the army involved and put a tank on every street corner, if necessary.”
When Wellington and Bennett heard the broadcast, they were upset but not surprised.
Bennett turned toward Wellington. “They have a point, you know. We are local. The fact that we’re not a national organization is taking the steam out of our message.”
“Yeah, I know. If there were more of us, and if we didn’t have day jobs, we could take a trip to other parts of the country and whack a few more termites. That would make it look like we’re national.”
“Yeah, but we can’t. We do have day jobs. Besides, we don’t have access to information outside of South Florida. We wouldn’t be able to find out their schedules or where they plan to have lunch.”
“Maybe some copycats will pop up to do the job for us. A lot of people in the rest of the country feel the same way we do. If we can continue to set an example, perhaps people in other parts of the country will pick up the ball and run with it.”
“Yeah. Maybe. We can continue to think globally, but we can only act locally.”
“Maybe that will be enough.”
93
Daniel Frumpton
&nbs
p; “It is not honorable to take mere legal advantage, when it happens to be contrary to justice.”
Thomas Jefferson
“Through the years, some men have discovered how to satisfy their wants at the expense of others without being accused of theft; they ask their government to do the stealing for them.”
W.M. Curtiss
Daniel Frumpton was a real estate tycoon, one of the biggest. He was also one of the most visible. He went out of the way to get his face in front of a camera at every opportunity. He thought of running for president at one time, but decided against it because of all the skeletons in his closet.
He impregnated a few women in his younger days and was quietly and secretly supporting them and their children. If word got out of his extra families, the religious right would be all over it. Neither the Democrats nor Republicans would support him, and an independent run for the presidency would be too expensive. Without the support of the religious right, one of the main groups that would support an independent candidate, he figured he would be wasting his time and money.
Santos checked flight schedules to Fort Lauderdale, Miami and Palm Beach on a daily basis to see when Frumpton would be coming to town. He didn’t bother checking the roster for regularly scheduled flights because Frumpton never flew commercially. He always used his private jet. A few hours ago he filed a flight plan from New York to Palm Beach. He would be arriving Thursday afternoon around 4pm.
Santos called Wellington to deliver the news. “John? The next package will arrive around four o’clock on Thursday.”
“Thanks for the information. Let me know if you need anything.”
Justifiable Homicide: A Political Thriller (Robert Paige Thrillers Book 1) Page 31
