The Brigade

by H. A. Covington

  “For every thing, there is a season,” agreed Zeke solemnly.

  In fact, it occurred to Kicky as she rode back with Jimmy to their current safe house that if she had still been wearing her bug, this would have been exactly the kind of thing that Martinez and Jarvis and the crazed Linda Hirsch would have gone for, and maybe gotten her killed in the process. She wondered again where they were and what they were doing, who they had told about her, and how long she had left before it all came apart. Then she stopped thinking about it, and returned to the present moment. She was getting good at that.

  As it happened, she was in less danger than she feared. The Battle of Flanders Street had been a police cock-up of major magnitude, but the federal authorities who had stepped in and taken over the investigation were canny enough to understand that like doctors’ mistakes, such cock-ups were best buried. After a full debriefing and due consideration, the new Special Agent In Charge of the Portland office, an iron-hard career man named Bob Wicker, had decided that this mistake needed to be buried deep. “Top Secret” stamps went on all the files and Operation Searchlight disappeared off the radar. It was obvious to him that Kicky McGee had flipped on her handlers, and equally obvious that this was not something the world needed to know all about. Because the Vice President was involved, the incident was now the subject of Congressional, Secret Service, and Justice Department investigations. These were pretty much pro forma, since everyone thought they knew it was a simple NVA assassination attempt thwarted by the valiant Linda Hirsch and Elliot Weinstein, based on some piece of last-minute information that neither of them were now in a position to divulge. Any mention of the presence of a police informer would reopen the investigations, raise all kinds of embarrassing questions about such events as the assassination of Ambassador Whitman and his Bantu bride, and poke sticks at a number of sleeping dogs that were best let lie.

  Lainie Martinez met privately with Wicker in a lengthy session in his office, where she ran down the whole thing for him and made a persuasive case for making the best of a bad deal, which she culminated with a skillful act of fellatio on Wicker’s office sofa. Wicker was convinced, and he and Lainie were now enjoying twice-weekly orgies of afternoon delight in covert safe apartments and hotel suites maintained by their respective departments around town. Wicker gave her and Jarvis warm written commendations. Not to be outdone, the governor of Oregon himself ordered Lainie and Jarvis promoted to Detective Lieutenant and approved their Medals of Valor. Since the beginning of Operation Searchlight, Lainie had taken the precaution of keeping a full hard copy set of relevant documents hidden away in a safe deposit box, just to make sure that she could in fact revive the whole episode if it proved necessary, and she had let Wicker know this, but he understood perfectly her need for insurance, and it looked as if they would not be needed.

  The one fly in the ointment was that May McGee and Mary Ellen McGee had disappeared. The head of the private contractor guard had been quite abashed when he told an outraged Lainie that their prisoners had given them the slip. “That old drunken biddy was still getting her beer ration,” he told her. “We even upped her to a case per day. But she must have been pouring most of it down the sink or something when we weren’t looking, because the night of that shoot-out you guys had on Flanders Street, before we could get any orders from you on how to proceed, she somehow got into the kid’s room and got off the premises with her. We honest to God don’t know how.” The mercenary knew, of course. He had been banging his female sergeant in one of the other hotel rooms, but he decided that it was better to look merely stupid rather than outright ridiculous. Lainie was so enraged she even lost her English and cursed him in Spanish, but whatever May had planned, she had planned well, because she and Ellie vanished without a trace.

  Lainie had landed on her feet, but Jarvis wasn’t quite as pleased. One of Cat Lockhart’s last bullets had brushed his nappy head and carried off his left ear. Lainie visited him in his hospital room and brought him up to speed. “Okay, it turned out to be a total fiasco,” she admitted. “But Wicker is willing to be reasonable. True, the FBI has now appropriated all our work, and the kid’s gone and so is our cut of any adoption bond. But you know, that might not be a bad thing in the long run, because it cleanly severs our connection with this whole mess. Look on the bright side, Jamal. We both made Loo, we can tack M.V. after our names, and now I’ve got an inside track with the feds that you can ride as well as me. Plus that 50-caliber slug was a few inches off, and you’re still here. Hell, we’re both still here, aren’t we? Hirsch, and poor old Andy, and Isaiah Robinson, and some other guys who went out that day didn’t make it. There is a silver lining to all this, you know.”

  “There’s only one silver lining dis nigger wants to see,” growled Jamal, touching his bandaged head. “Someday I wants to get my black hands on dat white bitch’s throat.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Lainie.

  XVII

  Taking Down Tinsel Town

  No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i’ the world.

  Hamlet—Act III, Scene 2

  On a dark night in the following January, a high-level NVA conference convened in a private home in Westport, Oregon. Present were Red Morehouse, First Brigade Commandant Tommy Coyle with both of his urban battalion COs Bud Lawlor and Larry Donner, as well as Second Brigade Commandant Harry Hannon with his two battalion captains Mark Conway and Art McNeill. Lieutenant Wayne Hill and Lieutenant Charlie Randall represented the Third Section, with a nervous Captain Zack Hatfield and Lieutenant Charlie Washburn of Third Battalion acted as Mine Hosts. Once the men were all seated in the capacious living room of the safe house, and mugs of coffee or soft drinks distributed all around, Red opened the meeting. “Everything copacetic in the neighborhood, Zack?” he asked.

  “We’ve got almost forty Volunteers outside and up and down the road, and patrolling the woods around and about,” Hatfield told them, taking his seat and taking off his broad-brimmed hat. “I’m not taking any chances. We made a concealed stand up on that little bluff behind us, and we’ve got a specially mounted twin M-60 rig and a couple of crack riflemen with infrared night sights in case any helicopters try to buzz us, but with all due respect, sir, I think we need to get through whatever it is you need to get done, and then break this up. I’m not happy about having this many of our people in one place, especially this many senior officers. The Wild Bunch has pretty much put the fear of God into anybody who might be inclined to drop a dime on us, but with this many bodies there’s bound to be some kind of accidental observation the longer we stay here, if only from Eye In The Sky satellites with infrared heat sensors. They can always send a Predator drone out here just on spec. I know you well enough not to have to say this, but this had better be important enough to justify this kind of risk.”

  “It is,” Morehouse assured him. “All right, let’s get on with it, then. You all understand, I’m speaking for the Army Council now. I am going to be detailing a major strategic initiative, and the words top secret don’t even begin to cover the security we have to maintain on this until we’re ready to pop the top. First the bad news, and that is that I’m going to have to ask you guys for some of your best men, at least two dozen of them, maybe more, to be sent on detached duty for an undetermined amount of time. After a lot of consideration, the Portland brigades have been selected to put together a special active service unit for a series of highly sensitive and risky operations, the first extensive campaign the NVA has mounted outside the Northwest Homeland itself. The name of this unit will be Task Force Director’s Cut. Its mission will be to neutralize one of the prime weapons that ZOG has in this war, which is the Hollywood movie, media, and entertainment industry, and to render that industry as useless to the enemy as we can possibly accomplish. Put bluntly, we are going down to Hollywood, and we are going to take the Dream Machine apart at the seams.”

  There was a low round of chuckles and approving grunts and comments. “Do we get to volunteer?�
�� asked Conway. “I need to work on my tan.”

  “I’ll need a cover job as a waiter or a soda jerk so I can be discovered by a big Jew producer,” said Lawlor. “Full frontal nudity is no problem.”

  “I get dibs on wasting that obnoxious hebe Bert Steinfeld,” said McNeill, naming a well-known Hollywood leading man of the Mosaic persuasion who claimed to be a karate black belt and former Green Beret, a claim disputed by the United States Army, and who specialized in tough-yet-sensitive cop roles where he and his black or female or gay sidekick beat up on wicked white racists of various kinds while laying on snappy witticisms and one-liners.

  “That’s one reason we’re here, to start working out the nuts and bolts,” said Morehouse. “Gentlemen, I don’t have to tell you that ever since the invention of the motion picture over a century ago, the movie industry has been the most completely Jewish field of private enterprise in the world, with the exception of international banking and the stock exchange. Even today, Yiddish is considered to be Hollywood’s second language. Literally so. It is spoken regularly on movie lots and sound sets, and in every office and casting department and boardroom. The senior executive office complex of every major production studio contains a private synagogue or chapel called a mincha, with one or more rabbis attached, as well as special glatt kosher catering facilities and kitchens. Entire boards of directors in Hollywood and also at their parent companies in New York sometimes hold Jewish religious services prior to meetings. Every crucial, non-technical job on the business and creative end of any major movie is either held by a Jew or is in the power of a Jew, from the studio heads, the producers and the directors, down to the scriptwriters, the casting directors, the agents, the accountants, and anything to do with the money. Even in areas that seem to be controlled by Gentiles, you will find that somewhere along the line during the process, Jews have crucial input and veto power. This control by the Tribe is pervasive and complete, and it extends into television as well, with the exception of two of the major cable networks, which are heavily Jewish in their senior personnel but are owned by consortiums of super-wealthy Protestant evangelical Christians of the Israel-worshipping, neo-Zionist persuasion, major neocons and Republican party backers, who are in their own way even more poisonous in their evil than the Jews themselves, because they have no excuse for turning on their own blood.

  “I do not need to tell you of the terrible and largely irreversible damage that Hollywood has done to the white race and to Western civilization over the past century. For four generations, the international bankers and the corrupt politicians have committed unspeakable crimes against humanity, especially the war after war after bloody war they have plunged our people into for Jewry’s sake, but it is Hollywood and Hollywood’s mutant bastard spawn television that has made the white people of America and the world swallow these atrocities and actually support them with enthusiasm. It is Hollywood that has spent the past 50 years pushing every conceivable kind of perversion of body and mind down the throats of white people. It is Hollywood that has turned the loathsome practice of homosexuality into something cute and trendy, the subject for silly jokes, when it is in fact a poison of the very soul. It is Hollywood that has turned white women as portrayed on film into either mindless sex objects, or else de-gendered, masculinized, man-hating neurotics. It is Hollywood that has poisoned the minds and broken the spirits of generation after generation of white children who are now beyond recovery, and turned them into whiggers. The bankers have stolen our money. The federal government of the United States has stolen our lives and our freedom and soaked the earth with Aryan blood, spilled to save a filthy race of Asiatic parasites. But Hollywood has stolen our peoples’ minds and souls, and in some ways that makes Hollywood more evil to my mind even than the sinks of iniquity centered in New York and Washington, D.C. Comrades, we will go down to southern California, we will grip this monster by the throat, and we will cut its heart out!” There was a cheer from around the table; the men found the project to their liking. “At this point I’ll turn the floor over to Lieutenant Hill,” said Morehouse.

  “Thank you, Red, and isn’t this a great audience in our studio tonight?” There was a chuckle from the assembled men. “I need to begin by explaining just what has precipitated this operation, which by the way, has been designated Operation We Are Not Amused,” said Hill. There was more laughter. “Obviously, any revolutionary movement within North America has to deal with the Hollywood problem at some point or other, and it’s always been on our back burner, even back in the pre-10/22 days of the old Party. But for the past several years, our main problem has been survival on the streets of our own land. Although we have taken on the printed and electronic local media here in the Pacific Northwest and largely neutralized them as an effective weapon for the occupiers, we haven’t had the time and the manpower and the resources to go for the very root of the problem, that cesspool down in Los Angeles. That’s changing now. It’s pretty obvious that barring some catastrophic event, the NVA is here to stay as a permanent feature of Northwest life, and for us, to survive is eventually to win. The time has come for us to take our offensive for balance in the media right into the belly of the Beast.

  “As odd as it may seem, in view of the rubbish they put on the tube about us every night, we’ve actually been surprised by just how relatively restrained the reaction of the Hollywood establishment has been to events in the Northwest. Restrained by their standards, anyway. The news programming originating outside the Northwest is pure government propaganda, of course, since they think we can’t get at them in New York or Atlanta or Los Angeles. Especially the cable TV talking heads. We get the sarcastic needling jokes by the late night celebrity show hosts, and there have been a few television episodes in various series dealing with the main characters fighting wicked racism in the Northwest and heroically saving cute little black babies and kiddies in yarmulkes from the Satanic racist revolt during the Sixteen Days, that kind of moo, but all things considered, the treatment that we’ve gotten at Hollywood’s hands hasn’t been nearly as vile an outpouring of hysterical hatred and incitement as we might have expected.”

  “Yeah, I kind of noticed that myself,” spoke up Donner. “They’re just being snide and vicious, not full-bore screaming. Why do you think that is, Lieutenant?”

  “A couple of subtle and complex reasons,” said Hill seriously. “First, we need to realize that Hollywood is not a monolith. As in all empowered élites, there are a number of competing and antagonistic factions within the top echelons, bitter personal feuds and conflicts of interest, and all kinds of wheels within wheels. Mostly these factions are concerned with personal prestige and wealth, and the acquisition and use of what was, up until Coeur d’Alene, real power in this society, i.e. media power, money power, and political power emanating from La Cesspool Grande on the Potomac. There are a lot of people of power in Hollywood, men and women, Jewish and otherwise, who are genuinely opposed to President Clinton and her clique for a wide variety of reasons, some ideological, others personal. You will notice that the slant of some of these television shows that have in fact come out over the past two years about events in the Northwest have not been so much about how wicked and evil we are—that’s taken as a given in the Hollywood ethos and our people are portrayed as simple stereotype villains—but how bumbling and incompetent and compromised Hillary and her government and her FBI are in the face of their increasingly obvious inability to do anything about us. There are also a lot of people in the industry who are really concerned that Hillary is going to throw the Constitution out the window and set up what amounts to a Presidency for Life.”

  “Word is she’s going to put Chelsea in the Oval Office to warm her seat for her, while Mommy Dearest keeps on calling the shots,” said Morehouse. “I don’t know, though. Chelsea is so completely hopeless that I’m not sure the Sea Hag could get even this brain-dead electorate to swallow her.”

  “Sir, you’re talking about a nation of people who actuall
y re-elected George W. Bush in 2004, when everyone knew perfectly well that he had lied to the whole country to make up an excuse to invade Iraq and begin this horror show in the Middle East that hasn’t left us since then,” Hatfield reminded him. “There is no limit to the stupidity of the American electorate.”

  “Point taken, Cap,” said Morehouse with a chuckle. “But Lieutenant Hill is correct in that so long as we don’t start shooting them, there are empowered people in Hollywood who, although they would never come right out and say it, don’t really mind having us around as a stick to beat Hillary with. They have fallen into the error of believing their own stereotypes about us. They don’t take us seriously and in the insulated, incestuous and self-absorbed world of Hollywood, it’s simply inconceivable to the empowered élite that we can win, so they don’t see us as a long-term threat to their own wealth and position.”

  “But now we are about to start shooting them,” Harry Hannon interjected.

  “And that’s another reason I think they’ve gone comparatively lightly on us since 10/22,” said Morehouse. “I said that the Hollywood élite don’t take us seriously as a long-term existential threat to their world, but remember, they live in a kind of money-fortified Green Zone down there, surrounded by criminals, junkies, black and Mexican and Vietnamese gang-bangers, and psychos of every stripe. Men with guns they can wrap their minds around. These people aren’t fools, comrades, and like all Jews they have a very highly developed personal sense of danger awareness and an almost instinctive threat assessment. They understand that we don’t like them or their filthy movies and boob tube, and that it wouldn’t take much provocation for us to come down there out of our northern forests and take a crack at them.”