The Arrival

by J W Brazier

  Phillips exhaled. “I hate this political backstabbing.”

  “Listen, General, I took unconstitutional liberties with the citizens of my state. You commanded foreign nationals on American soil without the full knowledge of Congress. Now you and I need to be on the same page here when we start answering congressional questions. Believe me, if we avoid prison, it’ll be by the skin of our teeth.”

  “Have you called Abram? What’s he doing to solve this mess?”

  “Abram can’t be reached. I’ve tried all morning. I suppose he’s preparing to get out of the country.”

  “The others involved … What about their stories?”

  “Ben Archer? He’s on his own. The United Nations will go unscathed. The president will fabricate whatever bald-faced lie he has to and will slither out of any responsibility. Further down the ladder, the stink will be horrendous, that I guarantee. General, like I said, it looks like Congress will take you and me to task on this thing. So let’s put our heads together and collaborate. What do you say? Oh, by the way, do you have a good attorney?”

  “Yes, but I—”

  Before the general could finish, the governor’s study doors burst open. Startled, both men sprang to their feet. Governor Clayton felt his heartbeat increase and his blood pulsating in his temples. The state attorney general entered his office with four Arkansas state troopers on his tail. Jim saw Phillips swoon a bit, then the general gripped his chair for support. A second later, a stern-faced army officer marched toward the general, with four MPs in tow.

  *

  Purse in hand, her personal files and resume under her arm, the governor’s secretary headed for the exits.

  Chapter 33

  Joshua wrapped up a busy Friday morning’s workload promising Brenda he’d try to leave before lunch. They’d planned an early dinner with guests. Happy with the good news, Miss Shelby had an extra hop and skip in her steps out the door.

  Joshua finished the last file from Shelby’s stack and checked his watch—1:00 p.m. He grabbed his jacket to leave the office. The phone rang. He sighed. One last call wouldn’t delay his departure, he figured. He picked up the telephone.

  “Mayor Austin.”

  “Hello, Joshua, you busy?”

  “Hey, Billy Joe. Well, I was, but not anymore. I’m on my way out the door, actually, but I can make time for you. What’s up?”

  “Remember our abortion mill investigation that’s dragged on forever?”

  “I’ve never forgotten, BJ. Our partisan DA refused to help with our case.”

  “He did, but we’ve new evidence from another interesting source. I’ve sworn affidavits from two eyewitnesses, coupled with solid forensic evidence of murder. Remember that lady I told you about who worked at both clinics? Well, she’s on board. Another witness said he knew you. The judge reviewed their sworn testimony and our case evidence. He’s issued warrants.”

  “Wow! Really? Wait, you said a witness said he knew me. What’s his name?”

  “A Dr. Tom Edwards. Seems the good doctor worked with Dr. Mahan at the Southside clinic for a while. He closed his Westside clinic for good. Said he’d had a change in heart. After talking with him, Joshua, I can tell you it’s genuine.”

  Joshua nodded to himself. He’d met Dr. Tom Edwards through his wife. She’d worked with him pro-bono with ACLU lawsuits.

  “That’s interesting, BJ. I would have never thought that, but please, continue.”

  “Dr. Edwards agreed to testify and stick with us as long as it takes, even if it means self-incrimination. In my book, that takes guts and strong character. The DA’s low-life brother-in-law, Wayne Haskell, who owns both slaughterhouses, can’t hide behind political coattails this time.”

  “Where are you now, Billy Joe?”

  “I’ll be at your office in five minutes. Judge Chaney issued arrest warrants for both Wayne Haskell and Dr. Mahan.” Joshua heard BJ take a deep breath. “Those innocent children are going to get a small piece of justice. Would you like to take a ride?

  “Billy Joe, I would love to. I’ll be waiting.”

  *

  Ben Archer had been in his office since early morning, handling a barrage of telephone calls teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Sources of under-the-table income appeared to be drying up for Ben. Across the desk from Ben, George Farnsworth watched and listened, awaiting his orders.

  Bad news for Ben was mounting. Operation Chameleon had gone sour and bellied up. Abram Solomon wasn’t answering any calls. The military and US Justice Department had detained the governor and General Phillips in Little Rock. Local liquor, gambling, and porn businesses had either closed or were relocating to other towns. With the arrests of Wayne Haskell and Dr. Mahan, Ben’s abortion money and fetal-parts sales came to a sudden halt. An earlier ballot referendum to revamp the zoning laws after Joshua’s election had closed three of Ben’s strip-joint partnerships.

  Joshua’s strict fiscal conservative approach to governing was stirring the social and moral conscience of his community. His gaining public support was having its desired effects, much to Ben’s chagrin.

  “Joshua Austin’s fingerprints are all over this mess!” Ben nearly shouted. “Danged Christian do-gooders! Every one of them needs to be rounded up and shot in public as an example. He’s cost me my new job, my career, and way too much money.”

  “Ben, calm yourself,” Farnsworth said. “You’ll have a heart attack.”

  Ben grunted. “I’m ready to get serious, Farnsworth—and I’m talking deadly. You comprende?”

  *

  Wayne Haskell and Dr. Mahan shouted horrible obscenities from the cruiser’s backseat. In the front, though, Sheriff Frazier and Joshua acted professionally and held their peace, except for a few smirks between each other that betrayed their glowing satisfaction. After they’d locked their prisoners behind bars, BJ drove Joshua toward his truck.

  “Billy Joe, in a small way, a little piece of justice is being served.”

  “Yeah, but don’t start whistling Dixie just yet, Joshua. Look ahead.” BJ pointed toward Joshua’s truck in the City Hall parking lot.

  Vandals had scrawled vial obscenities with spray paint across his truck. A stuffed effigy of him with a hangman’s noose around its neck lay stretched out on the hood, which had clearly been bludgeoned with something like a ball bat or tire iron.

  Joshua shook his head and let out a heavy breath. “Whoever did this to Old Red is a coward. I spent many a Saturday restoring that old truck.”

  BJ stopped next to Joshua’s truck, and the two got out.

  “I wouldn’t be so indifferent about this, Joshua.”

  But Joshua just shrugged, and then tossed the effigy into the bed of the truck.

  “Joshua, seriously, they’ve vandalized your truck with paint and beaten it with a club. You need to take this a little more serious. Someone is sending you a loud message, and you’d better pay attention.”

  Joshua nodded. “I may not act concerned, BJ, but I’m not stupid. If I allow intimidations from idiots who have done this to sow their seeds of fear in my life, they’ve won. I refuse to walk in fear. Remember the psalms of David.”

  “Yeah, but now isn’t the time to go preacher on me, Joshua. These people are sending you a clear message. What’s that word they wrote on your truck? DEATH. Now that is what I’d consider a death threat to you and your family. You need to pay attention.”

  “Yes, I know you’re right, but we don’t know who it was or where to start looking. You have any ideas?”

  BJ paused, then shrugged. “No, not right off, but a few names come to mind. It’ll take some time, but we can flush them out. I’ll go over the surveillance video.”

  “Hmm … I wonder if Ben Archer and his cronies are behind this.”

  “It’s possible. He and his boys would be my first stop. Joshua, these are serious players, and I mean deadly.”

  “Billy Joe, I know what the old Joshua would like to do: find them and kick some serious backsides
.”

  “Joshua, as a public figure, I understand your struggles. I admire your courage in the face of adversity. It’s not an easy thing to do, and it’s not high on America’s hit parade in today’s politically correct society. I struggle myself with lawless idiots every day, but there comes a time when you have to take a stand and say, ‘Enough.’ Joshua, you’re a political leader, the mayor of my community. Heck, what if you were a governor, senator, or even the president? To fight evil, you may have to get dirty and tussle with the bullies when you enter their domain of filth. That’s why there are people like me in law enforcement with authority and permission to do as you said: kick some serious good old-fashioned tail.”

  Joshua laughed. He got into his old truck, more than ready to leave for home. It’d been a long day.

  “BJ, thanks for letting me ride along with you today.”

  “It’s not over, Joshua.”

  “I know, Billy Joe, but it’s a start, and we saved a few more innocent lives today, even if my truck took the brunt of the blows.”

  “Joshua, this isn’t for what we did today. This is for everything you’re doing in this community. You’ve made a lot of enemies. Please be careful. They aren’t playing games. You know that, I hope?”

  “I know and I appreciate your concerns.”

  Sheriff Frazier started to head back to his car, but turned again to Joshua. “You want me to follow you home?”

  “No, but thanks anyway. How about I call you when I make it home? Fair enough?”

  “I’ll be expecting that call.”

  Chapter 34

  “Dean, I’ve seen pretty sights in my travels, and Arkansas is another beauty.” Glenn gawked at the passing scenery like a wide-eyed schoolboy.

  Dean remembered his first Arkansas visit. “You’re so right, boss. Those were my first impressions. Peaceful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Makes a man want to pack up and move to the country.”

  Dean nodded.

  Glenn turned off the highway and passed through the main gates of the Austin property. Glenn’s slow drive to the Austin home had worn Dean’s patience.

  Glenn’s stalling. Scared to meet Ann for the first time, he figured. Why, though, he couldn’t understand.

  “Glenn, I can walk faster than this. Would you speed up a little?”

  Glenn ignored him.

  When he finally stopped the car in front of the Austin home, Dean sighed and made a quick exit. He stopped halfway up the porch stairs and turned around. Glenn had stayed in the car. The Austin kids ran out the front door and grouped together, followed by their two shaggy dogs, one on either side. The dogs positioned themselves as if guarding their flock. Dean returned to the car and spoke through the passenger window.

  “What are those things?” Glenn asked, pointing toward the dogs.

  Dean couldn’t resist nudging Glenn with a little humor. “Ah, they’re just babies. Old-timers around here say dogs can sense a good man or an evil man. I’m interested in finding out what kind you are.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. Come on out, boss, and let’s find out.”

  Dean grinned and walked back to the porch, then looked back to the car. Glenn eventually opened the door and stepped out, but stayed close to the vehicle. The two dogs leaped off the porch in a flash and ran to the car, sniffing Glenn from shoes to waist and every other embarrassing part in between.

  As Dean laughed, Brenda Austin came out onto the porch and saw that the dogs had pinned a fretting Glenn Boyd to his car.

  “Children, what on earth!” she said. “Don’t stand there and watch! Call those dogs off that poor man. They’ll lick him to death before dinner.”

  Giggling, Clay and his sisters ran toward Glenn as Dean and Brenda said hello to each other.

  “Sorry about our dogs, Mister,” Courtney said to Glenn. “They’re friendly to certain people. I’m Courtney and these are my sisters Meagan and Danielle, and my brother—”

  “Hi, I’m Clay,” he said, extending his hand toward Glenn. “Nehemiah, Gracie, go on! He’s a friend.”

  The two large dogs cocked their heads, then licked and sniffed Glenn one last time for remembrance, evoking yet another laugh from Dean.

  “Nice dogs, kids,” Glenn said.

  Brenda looked at Dean and smiled, then stepped off the porch and walk toward Glenn.

  “Hello, Mr. Boyd, I’m Brenda, Joshua’s wife. I’m glad you accepted our invitation. Dean has spoken of you often.”

  Glenn cut his eyes toward Dean, who just smiled and then went inside to see if he could have a few moments to himself with Ann.

  *

  “Thank you, Mrs. Austin,” Glenn said. “I appreciate you and your husband’s invite.”

  “You’re most welcome. Come on in, please. I want you to meet two good friends of ours, Pastor Steve McAdams and his wife Sherry. I’m sorry Joshua isn’t here to greet you. He called a few minutes ago and said he’d be running a little late. He wanted to visit with you for a while before dinner.”

  “Joshua sounds like an interesting man. I’m looking forward to talking with him.” Glenn looked around, but no Dean. “Looks like my reporter disappeared.”

  Brenda leaned in close and touched Glenn’s arm. “He’s inside visiting with my friend Ann. I’m sure you’re aware of a promising romance between those two.”

  Glenn laughed. “Oh yes, and he’s tried to deny it at times, but he glows when Miss Taylor’s name is mentioned and has started to actually ’fess up to it.”

  The children lingered nearby, laughing and giggling at the adult talk. Brenda smiled at the kids.

  “Okay, you guys, you need to take care of your chores before dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said and then scurried off back inside the house.

  Brenda and Glenn chatted as they walked toward the porch, but then the dogs dashed off the porch and ran down the driveway, clearly alerted by something. Brenda and Glenn both turned to see a truck headed their way.

  Brenda, though, didn’t recognize the vehicle or the driver, a male, as he approached. The truck stopped and out stepped a tall man. The two dogs stopped beside him and sat without command. He knelt down and stroked and patted both, as if greeting his old friends, then he stood and walked toward Brenda and Glenn. The dogs followed alongside, wagging their tails.

  “Good afternoon, folks. If I’ve followed directions correct, I hope I’ve arrived at Mayor Austin’s home.”

  Brenda smiled and extended her hand. “Yes, it is. I’m Brenda, Joshua’s wife, and you are?”

  “My apologies, Mrs. Austin. I’m Ian Taylor. Your husband invited me for an early dinner. I hope I’m not late.”

  His mouth ajar, Glenn stared at Ian, as if in a trance.

  “Oh goodness yes, Mr. Taylor. Of course. Joshua told me to expect you, and we’re glad you came. Joshua should be home any minute. I’d like you to meet Mr. Glenn Boyd.”

  Ian extended his hand. Glenn blinked and closed his mouth, realizing he must’ve looked like a goof. He reached out and lost his hand in Ian’s powerful grip.

  “I apologize for staring, Mr. Taylor. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Glenn.”

  “Alright … Glenn, and it’s Ian. Deborah’s talked about you many times.”

  Chapter 35

  Relaxed in plush surroundings, Abram Solomon awaited takeoff aboard his private jet, anxious to leave Atlanta and the growing turmoil over Operation Chameleon.

  Time for an extended vacation to let the dust settle. The other unfortunate operatives can deal with the fallout, he thought.

  With a grin and then a sip of wine, Abram considered his latest handiwork. The terrorist exercise had exceed his expectations with less opposition than he’d expected. He hoped he’d pleased his benefactor.

  Pawns on the chessboard in a new world order. A good beginning toward a final solution, he mused and then raised his glass in a private toast, saluting good-bye to America.


  The shrill of jet engine noise increased for takeoff, pushing the sleek plane faster down his estate’s runway. His corporate jet gained altitude and banked left into a gentle turn. With the blue Atlantic Ocean below, his arrival in Europe would be mere hours away.

  As he sipped his wine and mused over his success, Abram’s onboard phone rang. He wasn’t expecting any calls, but recognized the caller ID number. A disquieting dread fell upon him. Without notice, his boss apparently wanted to talk.

  They hadn’t spoken in months, though. Abram had planned to call him when he arrived at his European estate. He set his glass on a tray, wondering if there was a change in orders. He wiped his moist palms and cleared his tight throat before answering the call.

  “Afternoon, sir,” Abram said.

  “Off to Europe, Mr. Solomon?” came the reply. “I’m surprised. I thought you’d stay longer. But no matter. I’ll be brief and to the point. Project Chameleon exceeded my expectations. Wouldn’t you agree, Abram?”

  “Yes, sir. You crafted a brilliant plan and achieved several target goals.”

  “Yes, indeed, a good beginning. Now, though, to my business with you. A few of your successes I’m pleased with, but there are other events that disturb me, Mr. Solomon. White River’s new mayor … You allowed an unknown to defeat the man I had in place.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but he succeeded in mobilizing voters. I didn’t expect that outcome, given the conservatives’ clear apathetic voting histories.”

  “He was one man, Mr. Solomon. His incessant actions caused our early withdrawal. I’m disappointed in your ultimate results. You should have dealt with him sooner, as I instructed.”

  “Yes, sir, as always, you’re correct. I underestimated his resolve, but a remedy that will deal with him is in the making as I speak. May I ask what other areas concern you, sir?”

  “You fanned smoke to flame and ignited a conservative backlash. The Ohio River terrorist act may succeed, but could backfire and create an aura of martyrdom with the Christians and Jews. You disobeyed my orders, exasperating the situation and overreaching your authority, Mr. Solomon. White River, Abram, was your single concern, and now you’ve delayed my arrival.”