Bishop's Song

by Joe Nobody

  “Shit! Go see if you can find out anything more about where our new friend Bishop might have gone. I doubt he wandered far, given his partner is still here.”

  When Beckworth returned from his emergency, Grim could tell something had changed. His host was now stressed. The man across from him was now so intense, for a moment Grim thought he had done something wrong.

  “Are you traveling with another man, Grim?”

  Oh shit, thought the operator. What the hell has Bishop done now?

  “Yes… yes I am. Why do you ask?” he answered, his mind racing with next steps.

  “There was an incident in the big tent. Your partner caught a thief and detained him for my security people. He seems to be a man with certain skills.”

  “Bishop does okay. He’s not bad for a man who never served with any of the Special Forces. One of these days that Texas swagger of his is going to get him killed, if you ask me.”

  Beckworth tilted his head, “Texan?”

  “Yes. I live in West Texas now. I hope to take my wife and daughter back there. The people there have organized… managed to get a lot of infrastructure up and running, and it’s a pretty good place to hang your hat – at least compared to anything else I’ve seen so far.”

  Now it all makes sense, the major thought. Now the pieces of the puzzle are coming together. West Texas is quite the hot topic of conversation in Washington. Bishop must be someone important.

  Beckworth seemed to relax, his facade reverting to its pre-interruption smug.

  Something in Grim’s answer had obviously pleased his host. So much so, he ordered his assistant to break out two cigars. After clipping and lighting the stogies, Beckworth leaned back in his chair and exhaled a fog of blue smoke. “I’ve heard quite a few stories concerning your friends down in the Lone Star State. What is really going on down there, Grim?”

  Grim hesitated before answering, unable to figure out where Beckworth was coming from, why was there such a sudden curiosity about Texas. “I’m nothing more than a security guard, major. I only know a few of the people there. Most of my time is spent training their militia and setting up security for their key facilities and infrastructure.”

  “And your traveling companion?”

  Warning bells erupted inside Grim’s head. The question came to fast – almost eager. Besides, the man sitting across from him wouldn’t normally give a rat’s ass about some stranger, let alone inquire about him twice. Something was going on, and the operator suddenly felt like he was in over his head.

  “I don’t really know him that well,” Grim lied. “He is just a guy assigned to help me retrieve my family. Other than that, I’ve only seen him around a few times.”

  Grim felt the ex-spook’s eye boring in on him, trying to peel back the layers of the deception onion. Eventually, Beckworth shrugged his shoulders as if pronouncing the matter unimportant.

  “Let me pull up the records on your wife and daughter. I am running a business here, and I need to verify my investment before reaching a decision. I’m sure everything will be fine, but I have to double-check. In the meantime, I’ll reschedule their day off, so you three can have a happy reunion. I’ll also make housing arrangements so you can all stay in the same unit.”

  Grim smiled, the anticipation of finally seeing his loved ones more satisfying than the steak he’d just consumed.

  “Oh,” Beckworth added as Grim rose to leave. “How rude of me. I’ll also make separate arrangements for your friend. All on the house, of course.”

  “Thank you, major,” Grim replied, and then made for the door.

  As the retired officer watched his guest being escorted back to the main compound, he shook his head. “I don’t really know him that well… He was just a guy...” he mocked. “Bullshit, Grim. Absolute, 100% farm fresh bullshit. Never try and deceive a professional liar.”

  “Frankly, I would have issued you this pass without returning the deserter’s body,” the captain said, sliding two pieces of paper across the desk to Bishop. “It’s fewer mouths we have to feed. I wish everyone would come and retrieve their relatives and get them away from here.”

  Bishop accepted the documents, holding them up to read.

  “This first one gives you permission to travel through the region for 10 days,” the JAG officer continued. “The second allows for you to carry a personal firearm. I wouldn’t have normally granted that privilege, but my junior officers relayed what you did for them at the Circus.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Bishop left the building more than happy with his little scheme. He had to stop himself from whistling as he passed through the barbwire perimeter and guard shacks that had been erected around what had once been a middle school.

  One small set of lies had achieved so much. He now had a way to pass back over the Mississippi with Grim and his family, managed a proper burial for Deke’s body and, just for icing on the cake, insured that the army wouldn’t be looking for Matt. They now thought the missing sergeant was dead.

  The drive back to the Circus passed without incident. Bishop’s only remaining concern was the release of Grim’s family, but that seemed to going their way as well.

  Passing through security went smoothly, and he found Grim sitting at their original table, teasing Maryanne about the weak beer.

  It wasn’t unusual for the Colonel or General Owens to be called to the president’s quarters at such a late hour. As a matter of fact, given the state of the union, it was quite common.

  Other than serving their country, the two men didn’t share much of a background. Owens had come up through the ranks, making a decision to join the Independents before Moreland had become Commander in Chief. His performance during the brief, but intense, civil war had earned him a promotion and secured a role advising the chief executive.

  The Colonel had achieved his position as advisor via an entirely different path. He had long ago rejected Washington’s politics as well as her military. Instead, he chose to enter the corporate world, where he had managed a life of partisan seclusion until things had fallen apart.

  Desperate for knowledgeable, trusted advisors, the former president had pulled the Colonel back into the political machine, playing on the man’s patriotism and sense of duty.

  The Colonel had rejected joining the Independents, instead advising negotiations and a joint effort to save the nation. “You all can fight it out with the voters after the country has healed,” he’d recommended. “For now, we need to make sure there is something left to fight over.”

  Despite the different routes taken, the Colonel and General Owens found themselves allies, sharing a similar philosophy as well as being kindred spirits in what they believed was best for the nation. Both men knew they were in the minority, especially when it came to dealing with West Texas.

  Walking together after being summoned by the president, Owens quickly informed his friend of Bishop’s presence in Tennessee, and what little else was known.

  “I wonder what the hell he is doing there,” the Colonel pondered.

  “I have no idea, but I’ve got a bad feeling about all this. The president accepted our plan because there wasn’t any other valid option. When I informed him of Bishop’s presence, his eyes changed. I think your friend’s travels have opened a door, and I don’t like what’s on the other side.”

  The two men entered the conference room unsure of what to expect. They found the president seated with another man they didn’t know.

  “I’m sorry to call you in at such a late hour, gentlemen, but new facts have come to my attention. I wanted to revisit our current operation concerning West Texas… to make sure we’re still taking the right steps.”

  Motioning for his two subordinates to be seated, the president continued. “As I’m sure you are aware, Colonel, Bishop has been spotted outside of Memphis. We still don’t know what he’s doing there. I wanted to call you in and get your impressions.”

  Moreland then switched his attent
ion to General Owens. “I’ve asked you to join us, general, because I’m concerned there might be a tactical reason why one of the leaders of their little group has ventured so far away from home. To be frank, I have concerns that our friends might be plotting some sort of strike against us and wanted to include your expertise.”

  The Colonel had to admit he had similar thoughts after hearing of Bishop’s location. He wouldn’t put it past his old employee to attempt a preemptive action – to take the fight to the enemy.

  Owens disagreed, “I’ve already done a quick analysis of that, Mr. President. There’s nothing critical in that immediate area. If they were after nuclear facilities, there are far more lucrative locations. If they wanted to sabotage our infrastructure, I can think of 50 different targets that would cause us more harm. Memphis is very low on the list of critical assets.”

  The Colonel added, “Besides, sir, It wouldn’t make any sense to start a fight. They’ve agreed to our offer. All reports indicate they’ve already began making preparations to meet the terms. Why start a war now?”

  The stranger sitting with the president finally spoke. “It could be they accepted our proposal in order to buy time. Perhaps there’s been a change in leadership on their side? Maybe the new authority doesn’t like the deal made by the old regime. Our estimation of their leadership was shaky at best. You gentlemen underestimated them once, we feel it would be a mistake to do so again.”

  The Colonel couldn’t hide his expression, an intense storm brewing behind his eyes. It broke. “And just who the fuck might you be? The only underestimation that has occurred concerning this matter is how little you believe I’ll kick your ass, right here in front of the Commander in Chief, God and General Owens. We advised the president to negotiate with the Alliance, advice that was contradicted.”

  The stranger bristled at the statement, partially because of the threating tone, mostly due to the vulgarity. Still, he remained unapologetic.

  “Oh come now, Colonel. I know you are an educated man. Surely you understand the calculus involved in these types of decisions. We are negotiating with a woman who used to be a bank teller for God’s sake. The key figures running this so-called alliance read like a Who’s Who of Failures. There’s not a doctorate in the mix, captain being the highest military rank achieved by any of them. Their actions are as predictable as common street criminals.”

  The Colonel grunted, staring down and shaking his head. “Calculus? Regime? Estimations? You answered my question, even if indirectly. How are things over at the CIA these days?”

  The president spoke before the exchange could continue any further. “Gentlemen, may I remind you we’re dealing with the future of our country, not ancient inter-agency feuds. I asked Mr. White to join our little skull session because he is a specialist in counter-insurgency. You’ll all do well to respect each other’s positions and work together. No more spitballs. That’s an order.”

  Despite the words from his boss, the Colonel was through. “Sir,” he began, looking the chief executive right in the eye, “my recommendation is to treat this new information as merely a footnote. There could be a thousand reasons why Bishop is in Memphis, 999 of them completely unassociated with our agreement or future relations with the Alliance. We should ignore this sideshow unless some incriminating facts are discovered.”

  General Owens nodded, “I agree, sir. Our people are going to be moving into place in two days. I say we keep an eye on Bishop’s activities, but make no changes other than that.”

  The President looked back and forth between his two advisors, remembering his dismay at not following their advice the first time. Nodding, he signaled his agreement. “All right gentlemen, I’ll stay the course. Thank you, and good night.”

  Mr. White intentionally lagged behind, waiting until he was alone with his boss. “Sir, I believe we have an opportunity here – that circumstances have presented us with an opening that could end this little rebellion and advance your plans significantly.”

  “Go on.”

  The CIA man cleared his throat, “I wasn’t overstating my impression of the rebel’s leadership. They are single dimensional, unsophisticated, and suffer from overconfidence. Yet, they are very popular with the people of the region – a fact that would be unwise to ignore, both now, and in the future.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “If we could expose the true nature of those leading the rebels – make them publically display their inner weaknesses for all to see, the reintegration of that territory would go much smoother.”

  “I’ve already made my decision. You heard it – we are going to honor our agreement and proceed as planned.”

  Mr. White was not deterred. “Sir, I’m not suggesting anything to the contrary. I believe we can accomplish both.”

  “What? Are you suggesting we take out their leaders? Assassinate them... or some other illegal act?”

  “No, sir. All I want to do is cast a little bait – see if any sharks come to bite. If they do, we will have won this little contest before it even gets started. Your legacy might be as potent as Lincoln’s, at least when it comes to preserving the union.”

  The president’s head snapped up, the comparison peaking his attention. “So what is this plan, Mr. White?”

  “To begin with, sir, I need to travel to Memphis, right away.” the mysterious man began.

  Ninety minutes later, an armed military escort pulled into Andrews Air Force, its sudden appearance at such an early hour surprising the sleepy guards.

  Chapter 14

  Millington, Tennesee

  July 11, 2016

  Bishop went first, sharing his story of the evening’s events. Grim smiled after reading the documents Bishop had obtained. “Good,” the operator said, “Damn good job.”

  “And you? How did your dinner go? I’m ready to go home – I miss my wife and kid.”

  “I think he’ll let my family go tomorrow. He’s setting us up a place for this evening, arranging for a reunion. He’s going to give you someplace to crash as well.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  Grim thought about his response, not wanting to speculate. “He was aware you and I were working together. Our dinner was interrupted by your antics with the pickpocket. After that, I felt like the evening was more about you than me.”

  Bishop didn’t know the major. Had never seen the man before in his life. It all didn’t make sense.

  Before the two rescuers could dissect the strange events further, Grim noticed Beckworth’s head of security striding toward their table, behind him were Maggie and Jana.

  Both of the women were absolutely shocked to see him. Hugs, kisses, half questions and partial answers dominated the next few minutes.

  “I hate to break up such a joyous occasion,” interrupted the security man, “but I need to show you folks to your quarters and get back to work.”

  They were lead through a maze of campers, tents and other portable outbuildings that comprised what was essentially a small city. Eventually arriving at a small camping trailer, the Circus employee indicated it was Bishop’s home for the evening.

  The Texan had to smile as he watched Grim and his family stroll off, all three of them excited about the latest turn of events. He maintained his vigil as they were being shown to a larger unit parked nearby. Bishop grunted, hoping it was equipped with a little privacy for Grim and his wife.

  Bishop entered the small motorhome, the facilities more than acceptable. The camper had electrical power, which meant hot water, and the thought of a long, hot shower put him in a better frame of mind.

  As he prepared to bathe, Bishop couldn’t help but peek out the thin blinds. He didn’t trust the environment, nor their host.

  Regardless of his nagging suspicions, the Texan wasted no time in filling the sink with hot water and soap, dousing his filthy clothing repeatedly in the cleaning fluid. Padding around the camper stark naked, he hung his wardrobe on numerous, available knobs and handles, sur
e the makeshift clothesline would provide him with dry clothing in the morning.

  The bathroom was equipped with shampoo, body soap, and a razor. After enjoying a shave enhanced by actually being able to use a mirror, he then proceeded to relish in the hot shower flowing over his head and shoulders, lathering up time and again until the small heater ran out of the refreshing liquid.

  The fluffy towel was appreciated as much as the water.

  The hot soak, clean skin and busy day all combined to help Bishop into REM sleep in record time.

  Perhaps it was the excitement of finding his wife and daughter safe and unharmed, or maybe he had just grown used to getting very little rest. Whatever the reason, Grim couldn’t get out.

  With his wife sharing his bed for the first time in months, the contractor lay as still as possible, trying to remain quiet so his bride could rest. His mind was racing at 100 mph, the words of his ex-CO circulating through his thoughts.

  Something had changed in the middle of his dinner with Beckworth, the transition occurring immediately after the security guy had barged in.

  Afterwards, the conversation had focused more on West Texas and Bishop than his attempt to free his family.

  Grim had no doubt his ex-CO was connected. The scale of the operation surrounding him was evidence of that. The major’s role, back in the day, had been as a liaison between the intelligence apparatus of the US government and the military. Beckworth ran with the spooks from the CIA, DEA and other government agencies.

  How many of those relationships had the man nurtured? How many did he still retain? Grim knew he would never get any answers to those questions, at least not tonight.

  Since the day the rescue mission had been approved by the council, Grim had looked forward to holding his wife and child in his arms. That special moment had been a motivator, making the pain, risk and broken arm all a reasonable price to pay for keeping his loved ones safe.

  Now, he dreaded the morning, unsure of what it would bring for his family and for the people of West Texas.