Objective- Freedom

by James Huber

  He noticed a new man working in his pipe yard and learned that the man moved there from Lockhart to make a better living. He was described as a loner and an angry person, but he did his job, so the others left him alone.

  John Ron didn’t pursue the matter. As he left the site, he felt the new worker’s eyes on him. John Ron wanted to investigate the man a bit more, but that could wait.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  As unbelievable as it seemed, there was no new business.

  Things were going well for the fledgling new nation. The only contention was from Governor Espada. When her turn came to speak, she took the floor and said she was in total opposition to selling oil or any other natural resources to the United Sates. She asked that New Mexico be exempt from trading any of its natural resources to that country.

  Ambassador Randall watched her in bewilderment, wondering where she got that idea. Espada was becoming more militant each day, and he didn’t understand. Looking around the room, he saw the others were equally confused.

  He passed a note Governor Annette Dupree of Louisiana. She read it, nodded, and asked permission to speak. Espada yielded the floor. She knew her proposal would bring debate even before she spoke.

  “Why’d you bring this up, Governor?” Governor Dupree asked. “We know you have opposed contact with the United States, but we’ve talked about it and voted on it. It was approved by a majority. Yours was the only dissenting vote.”

  “Mr. Chairman, I yielded to the governor for discussion, not a history lesson,” Governor Espada said.

  “Let the lady from Louisiana speak, Madam. You did yield.” Espada sat down angrily.

  “It seems a personal thing,” Governor Dupree continued. “I don’t think you have the best intentions in this matter. You don’t have anything new to say. It may help your position if you told us why you’re so vehemently against our trade agreement.” Governor Espada didn’t reply.

  Ambassador Randall signaled Chairman Harris for a break, which was granted. When the break was announced, everyone left the room except Randall and Espada.

  He looked at his governor and asked, “What’s this all about? Why are you so recalcitrant? I don’t understand you.”

  “You don’t need to understand me. I’m the governor of New Mexico and a charter member of the Coalition. I don’t answer to you.” She was indignant that anyone questioned her.

  Ambassador Randall felt equally incensed. “You most certainly do answer to me, Governor. You answer to every citizen of New Mexico. When and by whom were you given an exemption from that rule? Who do you think you are, trying to buffalo us?

  Don’t tell me about charter members. I was in on this before you knew it existed.

  “You seem to be trying to make it vogue to hate people who disagree with you. How’d you ever get elected? Your opponents, not just on this council but also in the United States, aren’t evil.

  They aren’t our enemies. I would think you should realize that. “What’s the problem, Governor? What has you all bunched up? You sound like a spoiled little rich girl who didn’t get her way. Did you think that by coming from a good family, going to proper schools, having a professional coming-out party, and becoming the youngest governor in the history of New Mexico you were better than us?”

  She didn’t respond, so Randall finally gave up. When the other governors returned, talks resumed.

  “Governor Espada,” Governor Dupree said, “we must have cooperation. If not, you may be censored, then you’d face referendum and recall. What will it be, Governor?”

  Governor Espada stood and tore the paper nametag on her desk to pieces. Across the largest piece, she wrote, I resign from the governorship of the state of New Mexico. Amalia Espada.

  She walked up to Chairman Harris and handed him the piece of paper. He’d had enough, too, and handed it back. “The proper way to resign is to give it the secretary of state in New Mexico.”

  She was so furious, she almost lost control. Leaving the room, she slammed the door.

  “Colonel Roberts,” Chairman Harris said, “call the lieutenant governor of New Mexico and get him to Fort Worth as soon as possible after he’s sworn in.”

  “Mr. Chairman, wouldn’t it be advisable to watch Ms. Espada and see what she’s doing?” Governor Dupree asked.

  Chairman Harris thought about it, then nodded. “Colonel Roberts, see to it. And Colonel? Make sure she’s escorted out of the capitol. Remember to retrieve her phone and pager.”

  Roberts felt good to be able to do something besides sit in meetings. He quickly gathered a team of men and women to watch Ms. Espada.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The news of Amalia Espada’s resignation circulated very quickly. It meant little to most, though there were a few very interested parties. President Green had a conference call with his attorney general and secretary of state. Attorney General Menton didn’t like Amalia, so she didn’t feel sorry about her departure.

  Perhaps with her and Raven gone, détente could be reached. That was up to Kirby, who could perform the negotiations. The Attorney General would stick to the legal aspects.

  The ACLU made a lot of noise about a Hispanic woman being discriminated against, but that didn’t matter to the Coalition. The ACLU had no power in the new country. The fact that Espada resigned meant little or nothing to radical groups, nor were they concerned that the new governor of New Mexico was David Ruiz.

  Another interested party was the Iranian Council of Experts. They didn’t know Governor Ruiz and wanted to see if he could be subverted. The new Ayatollah cautioned them to go easy and take their time. They listened and obeyed.

  The change of governors went as smoothly as the change of presidents in the US had. Neither country was a banana republic, prone to riots and attacks on government buildings when something changed.

  President Green watched with detached interest. It wasn’t his business. The events of the Coalition were nothing that immediately threatened the US.

  He still hadn’t appointed a vice president. His advisors told him it was late in the political year, so something needed to be done.

  He worked on the issue with his aide, General Tony Hamilton. President Green liked what he saw in the man and nominated him to brigadier general. Green had several people in mind for Vice President, but he couldn’t narrow down his list.

  Ambassador Prieto of Mexico disregarded Kirby and signed an alliance with the Coalition. Kirby was angry and even requested President Green call the Mexican ambassador in to order him removed from Washington. Green finally calmed Kirby.

  “JJ, you’re probably the best cabinet officer I’ve had the pleasure to know, but you’re acting unprofessionally about this. We need all the allies we can get. Mexico hasn’t done anything against us except for that one bandit general in the Baja. Canada has been our friend for years. You need to mend some fences and get more diplomacy in your actions. If you can’t do that, let me know. I have more things to worry about than your bruised ego. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I was wrong, and I admit it. My only

  hope is that we don’t need to offer recognition to the Coalition. That would legitimize those rebels.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I doubt we’ll be doing any deals beside economic ones with them.”

  Kirby left feeling slightly crushed and also elated. He still had his job, and those cowboy rebels were still nonentities.

  He decided to visit the Mexican ambassador’s office to mend fences. He’d meet with the Canadians later.

  After Kirby left the White House, General Hamilton came in with a tray for the president that had a pot of coffee and chocolate- custard filled, powdered doughnuts. They were the general’s personal favorite, and he taught President Green to like them, too.

  They sat at the coffee table, relaxing for a few minutes.

  President Green trusted Hamilton more than anyone he worked with and valued his opinion.

  “Tony, what do you thi
nk about the way Kirby’s going on?” Hamilton, who was more of a diplomat than the best-trained State Department drone, thought before replying.

  “He’s too full of himself. He always needs to prove something. I saw many like him in the Army, just as you did. The worst thing about Kirby is his immaturity. He wants things his way and no other.

  “He seems adept at his job, but he’s a holdover from the Curtis regime. As you know, very few of them were qualified for their jobs. Most, including Kirby, were appointed because of demands from Curtis’s handlers and big-money men. Some worked out. You seem to be doing OK.”

  Green smiled. “Are you trying to ease your way into the secretary of state’s job by buttering me up?”

  Hamilton asked, “Why? Do you think I could do it?”

  Green thought he was serious. When he looked at the young general, who smiled at him through a mask of powdered sugar on his mouth, Green realized his friend was playing with him.

  “No, Sir,” Hamilton said. “I couldn’t do it. I wonder if Kirby can do it anymore. He bears watching. For better or worse, your term is up shortly, and Kirby will probably be gone, as will you and I.”

  Ray Green, sipping coffee, considered that. He wasn’t in the position to dismiss any more cabinet officials. Maybe they could ride out the storm.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  It was almost Coalition Day in the Southwest. The area around the capitol was being groomed. John Ron Gibbons supplied a large group of manual laborers to work on the grounds, touch up paint, and make needed repairs.

  One of the workers was Julio Rincon from Lockhart. He came to Fort Worth to make a better life for himself and his family. He worked as a waiter and bus boy at a local restaurant before he

  realized it was a dead end and began working for John Ron’s company. His new job seemed to be the best thing he tried so far.

  It wasn’t easy moving there without his family, but he had little choice. He made good money, but his attitude made it difficult for him to make friends or enjoy life. He was a low achiever. Most considered him lazy and unwilling to learn, so he didn’t progress. In the Army, when most men his age were advancing to senior sergeant or officer, he remained a junior sergeant. His performance qualified him to be a squad leader.

  He felt he was a hard worker, but all he ever did was menial labor. He had only one friend in Fort Worth, a man who spoke English and Spanish with a funny accent. Julio preferred Spanish as his primary language. He didn’t think it strange that he never went to Spain or Mexico. He just never fit in, and he often wondered why.

  Julio’s friend, Abas, said he was an immigrant from the police state of Iraq. Julio had no idea where that was, but he understood police state. Texas had always been a police state for Julio. Every Saturday night, one of his relatives or neighbors was hauled off to the police station for something.

  Abas met Julio one day at work. Julio sat on a newly finished wall when Abas asked if he could join him. Julio, nodding, returned to his lunch.

  Abas noticed Julio had a lower-class working man’s lunch and commented how badly the citizens of the new country were held down and kept in their places.

  Julio felt he finally met someone who’d see things his way. After they talked a bit, they agreed to meet after work on Friday. Abas seemed to have extra money and invited Julio to a place he knew, where they could have cold beer and a good dinner.

  That was appealing. Julio hadn’t had beer in a long time.

  His demanding wife and whining kids took all his money. He would meet Abas and have a good night. It never occurred to him the man was a Moslem who didn’t drink alcohol. Julio knew nothing about such things. All he knew was that his friend was buying, and that was good enough. It had been a rough day, but Julio didn’t mind. He just wished he got a little recognition occasionally.

  Julio was smart enough to know that most of his problems were his fault, but he wasn’t educated enough to fix them. Maybe Abas could help. The man was clean and dressed well, even if it was just working clothes. Maybe Julio could learn something from him. It would be nice to have a smart friend.

  They met at the restaurant, ate a meal, and spent the rest of the evening drinking beer. Unknown to Julio, Abas had one beer, which he sipped all night. They drank and talked until late.

  When the bar closed, Abas left Julio to go home. He learned that Julio was a member of the Army Reserve in the Coalition, and Julio was assigned as a security guard on the upcoming Coalition Day parade.

  A plan formed in Abas’ mind. It would take time to work out, but he had plenty of time. The ayatollah who sent him to Texas didn’t require a deadline for action. Abas knew about the new Ayatollah and his moderate ways, but he didn’t approve.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  President Ray Green, watching the party conventions on TV, barely approved of the nominees. The men were more bought-and- paid-for faces. They would be owned by corporations and controlled by their party in Congress. It seemed no one ever learned.

  Lady Catherine joined him for breakfast in the executive dining room. In her honor, they had a full English breakfast. She couldn’t tell where the tomatoes came from so late in the growing season, but she enjoyed them, anyway. Catherine had to keep reminding herself that American farmers constantly produced more and better products than anywhere else in the world. Other countries hadn’t caught up with such technology yet.

  President Green’s initiatives to put people back to work, mainly in the agricultural business, paid off. The loss of the Coalition states was a severe blow to vegetable and grain production.

  President Green met with labor leaders from the Rust Belt and the grange leaders from the Corn Belt, and together they created a plan to save the country’s crops against drought. If they lost a harvest, they’d have to turn to the Coalition or Mexico for produce. Due to the United States’ monetary problems, Canada was reluctant to deal with them.

  There was no alternative but to change the way agriculture was done. A massive movement began to get the factories turning out pipes, pumps, and concrete footers. The rivers in the northern parts of the US would supply water for irrigation as needed. One

  good example of how well that worked was the Illinois River near Peoria.

  The Illinois River’s many tributaries ran into crop-producing counties in central Illinois. The most-needed area was along the Sangamon River, which watered the principal corn and grain growing area of the Midwest.

  The projects laid pipeline into various distribution valves that farmers could tap to water their crops. It wasn’t mean to be a full-time solution but had to be reserved for drought or fire.

  When the farmers were protected from losing crops to drought, the government had to ensure the crops. Thousands of men and women laid pipelines across various states. Dozens of previously dormant factories reopened to produce necessary materials and tools. The heavy-equipment industry flourished.

  It was an expensive proposition, but President Green was the first to realize that it cost the government remarkably little. The workers were paid and spent their money on houses, cars, groceries, medical bills, and taxes. The factories hired people and returned the money to circulation through wages and goods purchased. Factory owners had to pay taxes, too. Money began circulating again, which helped keep the welfare rolls down.

  Catherine and Ray had a casual breakfast for the first time in days. It was their favorite time of day. Their relaxed mood wouldn’t remain long, but they cherished each minute of it.

  All too soon, there was a knock at the door. General Hamilton came in with the morning newspapers. His expression was glum, and he moved almost in slow motion.

  “What’s the problem?” the president asked. Hamilton glanced at Lady Catherine.

  “Go ahead, General. You’re among friends,” the President said.

  “Sir, I’m as depressed as I’ve ever been in my life and more than I want to be again. I reviewed the candidates for president to succeed you, and I find the
m lacking in all areas needed to solve our problems. Sir I feel one of the candidates will lead us to war with the Coalition. His fire-breathing speech last night stirred up a lot of people, but maybe it was just talk. The other candidate seems incapable of walking into a kitchen and choosing between cookies or cake.”

  “That worries me more than anything. I don’t think either one is capable, and we’ll be back in the dark days of the Curtis administration.”

  Hamilton didn’t fear he said too much. President Green looked at him as if appraising a new officer recently assigned to headquarters. He looked at Lady Catherine, who smiled and nodded.

  “General Hamilton, that’s why you’re a general,” the president said. “You have assessed the situation and made a decision. If it’s any comfort, I agree completely. I fear for the future of my country, but I’ve had my shot. It’s up to people like you to make changes.

  “The US representative from your district is retiring. I recommend you contact his party headquarters. You might find an interesting situation awaiting you. Get back to me once you’ve made the call.”

  “Yes, Sir, I will. Lady Catherine, Mr. President.” General Hamilton left.

  Catherine and Ray exchanged smiles.

  “Does he have any idea what’s going on?’” she asked. “He’ll figure it out. He’s the sharpest officer I ever met.” Saying good-bye, she promised to see him that evening, when they could continue their plans.

  She passed General Hamilton on her way out, and he greeted her with a satisfied smile.

  Only three people knew why, and none were going to explain what changed the general’s mood so quickly.

  Nor did anyone know that a third group was meeting with the president. They wanted to test the waters for his running for president, with Kirby as his vice president. Only Ray and Catherine knew how that would turn out.