by Bobby Akart
Another forty minutes had passed when a knock at the door interrupted them. Major had learned enough to form a working theory behind the assassination of Montgomery Gregg. All fingers pointed at Billy Yancey, and the motives were twofold—eliminate a witness to the failed assassination attempt on Kim Jong-un and the aftermath involving Duncan, or to punish the decorated general for his involvement in the secession.
As they said their goodbyes, Major turned to Mrs. Gregg and whispered a question into her ear. “Other than working for the CIA, did your husband ever allude to what Yancey specifically did?”
“Yes,” she replied unemotionally. “Whenever the United States government wasn’t satisfied with the outcome of an election, it was Yancey’s job to flip the script.”
Major looked at the previously frail woman, who now appeared to have a new sense of purpose. He thanked her again and promised to be in touch.
As he walked out into the bright sunshine and donned his hat, he mumbled to himself, “Now we have a third motive, one that leads to folks way above Yancey’s pay grade.”
Chapter 28
January 20
The Mansion
Austin, Texas
The next day, Major left the ranch once again. This time he was bound for Austin to meet with the president. If his hypothesis was correct, and he had no reasons to believe otherwise, then the investigation began and ended with Billy Yancey, unless there was a more nefarious purpose behind Gregg’s assassination, such as undermining her newly formed government. During their brief phone conversation, in which they agreed he should talk to her about the details in person, she also told him that she’d scheduled a meeting with the top generals from the former United States military. She invited Major to sit in and observe. He considered that a good idea because it would give him an opportunity to study their demeanor outside of the emotional surroundings of a funeral, just in case the military was behind the assassination for some reason.
“Hello, Major,” greeted the president as he arrived at her office.
They spoke in private for a moment about his interviews at the Gregg ranch and his theories. They both agreed that the worst-case scenario was the third one raised by Mrs. Gregg’s final statement. If Washington was trying to undermine her government to force her to concede some kind of failure, she’d have a tough time fending them off.
Before the topic of his continued involvement in the investigation arose, the president’s chief of staff interrupted them for the meeting in the large conference room with her generals.
For the first thirty minutes, a constructive back-and-forth conversation occurred between President Burnett and her military leaders. Major was impressed with the president’s ability to hold a sustained conversation with the career military officers. Words like tactics, strategies, and campaigns were bantered about, and from Major’s limited knowledge of the levels of warfare, it sounded as if the president had convinced the generals of her dedication to the Texas military.
After the meeting, the group milled around and spoke to one another about their commands, troop levels, and the overall attitudes of those within their charge. Major was approached by several of the top commanders to discuss Duncan.
Word had gotten back that he’d proven himself at Seminole, and yesterday’s operation at Lamesa was considered to be tactical genius. All of them expressed an interest in moving Duncan up the ladder and incorporating him under their commands. Major warned them that any position his son was offered that took him farther from home would have to be approved by Miss Lucy, who was a far worthier opponent than they might be willing to take on.
Throughout the conversations, Major impressed himself with his ability to engage in conversation with these leaders on a political level. Like in Washington, at least in theory, a civilian-run government retained control over the decisions of whether to go to war, whom to fight, and with whom to become allies.
Beyond the logistics of the battlefield, government, Major said, should be responsible for the purse strings and the societal issues involving the use of the military. However, once the decision was made to fight, it was the military commanders, and their vast experience on the battlefield, who should determine the tactics and strategy to be implemented.
After the meeting broke up, Major and the president had a light lunch in her office. After finishing his second glass of sweet tea, Major excused himself to use the restroom. When he returned, President Burnett sat on her couch in front of the fireplace. Spread out before her were a dozen file folders, each with a large red stamp on the front that read CONFIDENTIAL.
“Marion, I guess I should be going,” started Major as he entered the room. He glanced down at the folders and quickly averted his eyes out of respect. “Besides, it looks like you have matters to attend to that don’t involve yours truly.”
She fell back onto the sofa and sighed. “Vice president candidates.”
“Any front-runner?” Major asked.
“Yeah. None of the above.”
The two laughed, and Major sat in the chair across from her.
“Marion, we kinda got interrupted earlier before I could finish. If this character Yancey is behind Gregg’s death, and I’m leaning strongly in that direction, I’m not sure we could prove it. Even if we could, he’s probably untouchable. I doubt Washington would extradite him to Texas.”
She managed a smile. “They’d laugh in my face if I asked.”
“Probably so. Which leads me to my point. I was on the fence about handling this investigation anyway because I have an obligation to the ranch and my family. Even if I did, the conclusions reached would be the same. Honestly, the best advice I have is to watch your back and be aware of anything that occurs that appears out of sorts. As always, you know I’m available to you as a sounding board if you need one.”
The president leaned forward, pushed the file folders in a neatly arranged pile, and slid them to the corner of the coffee table.
“I know, Major, which is why I called upon you in the first place. I really don’t know where I go from here other than deal with any crisis as it arises. I just don’t want to be the basis of that crisis.”
Major stood and helped the president off the couch. They shook hands, and Major gave his final words of advice before he left.
“Marion, every day you occupy this office, think of the power you’ve been given as the president of this great republic. Then ask yourself if what you’re doing is right. Is it right by your principles? Is it right by Texans? And is it right by God? If you can look yourself in the mirror and answer yes to those three questions, then you’ll have the courage to endure any challenge.”
Chapter 29
January 20
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
“It’s good to see ya back at work, boss,” said Preacher jokingly. He knew Major was probably in agony over the events of the last two days. He hated traveling away from the ranch, but that paled in comparison to his distaste for rubbing elbows with politicians, even a friend like the president.
“Yeah, yeah,” started Major. “I’m glad to be back in the saddle where I belong. My face hurt from two days of smilin’ and talkin’.”
“I bet,” said Preacher with a chuckle. “You know I’m just ribbin’ ya.”
Major laughed as he mounted his horse. “Preach, I don’t know what you have planned for the day, but I sure would like to do some good old-fashioned ranch work. Do we have any fences to mend? Cattle to rustle? Heck, I’ll shovel manure out of the stalls and then probably roll around in it like a hog just to get to feelin’ like my old self.”
“Whoa, was it that bad?”
“Nah, not really. It’s just that part of my life is over, you know? I traded in my bolo and dress khakis years ago. I don’t think I’m cut out for it anymore.”
“Good to hear because have I got a job for you,” said Preacher in a playful tone.
Major’s sudden look of shock tickled Preacher. He began roaring in
laughter.
“You’re gonna make me shovel horse manure, aren’t you?” asked Major with trepidation.
“I should, boss, just ’cause you put the thought in my mind,” replied Preacher as he mounted up and whistled at the ranch hands to ride over from the barn. “How’d you like to join me and the boys on a little cattle drive? We’re dividing up the herd and moving some out east.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope. Miss Lucy referred to it as a preventive measure in case we run into trouble. There’s a ranch on the other side of Wildcat Creek that was abandoned after it was foreclosed last summer. It’s small, but its fences are solid.”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Major. “The old Diamond Fire place. We looked into buying it at foreclosure, but the bank was being stubborn on their price.”
“Still empty, and I’m pretty sure the bank would take one of them bags of quarters you got for it.”
“No, thanks. We’ll just take it over for now and give it back when all of this is over.”
Preacher grabbed the reins of his horse, dug in his heels, and took off at a gallop, leaving Major scrambling to catch up. He hadn’t driven cattle in a while and looked forward to helping the boys out. He had a lot to process after the last two days and was anxious to have some quiet time riding along to organize his thoughts.
The cattle at Armstrong Ranch was their most valuable resource other than the people who lived there. The Armstrong family’s ability to buy quality calves, fatten them up on feed that created a healthy adult, and sell them at a nice profit had sustained them for over a century.
Preacher was an old hand at organizing the team necessary to drive cattle. The process was relatively straightforward. Move these massive animals from point A to point B without chaos erupting in the form of defections from the herd or a stampede.
All of the ranch hands were quality horsemen and expert wranglers. It was invariable that strays would wander away from the herd. The challenge was not only to bring them back but prevent the others from following the wayward soul.
Preacher had charted out a path that led them down the same path carved into the ridge overlooking J. B. Thomas lake that Lucy and the boys had used to hide the survival caches. The terrain wasn’t treacherous, but it was narrow, which resulted in the herd being spread out. This created a challenge for the wranglers.
The day before, Preacher had separated thirty steers from the rest of the herd. The group of eight men, with the addition of Major, could easily handle moving a small herd of this size, but the narrow path presented a challenge. They’d need to keep on their toes to pull it off.
Preacher shouted his instructions as they got started. “This is a little different from normal, boys. You gotta look at this like keeping thirty schoolkids walking in a straight line down a sidewalk. All it takes is one to get curious and stray from the path. When that happens, the rest of our curiosity seekers will follow the leader off a cliff.”
They continued to ride as they reached the back gate, which opened up to the trail.
Preacher continued to give advice. “Remember, keep this low stress. Shouting won’t do us any good because it’ll just get ’em agitated. Riders in the back, move up along any steer that looks like it wants to wander or isn’t keeping up. They’ll get the message and fall back in line.”
The herd was moving at a methodical pace now, and Preacher was pleased. He gradually fell back and let Antonio take the lead. He joined Major at the rear.
“Somethin’ happen in Austin, boss? You look flummoxed.”
Major started laughing, which caused the cattle at the rear to become startled. He stifled his laugh and looked over at his old friend. “Flummoxed? That’s a lot of word, Preach. Have you been playing Scrabble with Palmer?”
“Nah, I was reading a book and saw the word used to describe a guy’s face. I pictured it to look like the way your face was a minute ago.”
“Makes sense, although I’m not sure flummoxed is the right word. How about preoccupied? That better describes it.”
Preacher shrugged and sat up in his saddle a little to look toward the front of the herd. So far, so good. “I like flummoxed better. Anyway, what’s gnawin’ at ya?”
“Preach, it takes a lot of cajones to order the assassination of a high-ranking public official,” Major began in reply. “Gregg had made a few enemies back in Washington, and I believe they were gettin’ even.”
“Maybe the fella had it comin’?” asked Preacher.
“Yeah, probably. That’s what Duncan thinks, anyway. My concern is something more sinister might be going on. That bullet may have been sending a message to Marion.”
“You mean as in the next bullet is coming for you kinda message?”
Major nodded. “Yessir.”
“Okay, so what’s it all mean?” asked Preacher.
“I don’t rightly know, Preach. Whoever is pullin’ the strings on this whole thing hasn’t made their next move yet. I suspect we’ll know it when we see it. All I can say is this. Our responsibility is to this little part of the world and the people who rely upon us to keep it safe. Anything bigger is beyond our control anyway.”
PART THREE
Texas is at War
Chapter 30
January 20
Just Before Midnight
Lubbock, Texas
Holloway had adopted an abandoned warehouse on the southeast side of Lubbock as his staging area for tonight’s attack. By seven o’clock that evening, his entire team was in place, and although they were small in numbers, they were powerful in their intensity. Holloway walked through the group, stopping to check their gear and offer words of encouragement. He thought back to the young recruits who’d come through Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan to train for war.
Many of them weren’t born when the 9/11 attacks took place. When these impressionable soldiers arrived in this strange land of rocks and desert, the fact that the world was dangerous and evil existed in certain groups of people, had barely seeped into their worldview.
Holloway’s commandos were different. They had grown up in a country led by dictators and brutal regimes. They were taught at an early age not to respect the authority of the state, but to fear it. They were unlike American children, who were admonished to wear helmets and knee pads while riding their bikes or, later in life, were promised safe places in college if they didn’t like the way another student spoke to them.
In America, the so-called millennials abandoned the saying sticks and stones might break my bones and words can never hurt me in favor of a hypersensitive society in which every perceived slight became an emotional crisis.
North Korean kids and young adults were hardened in a way Americans could never understand. A misspoken word or a simple misunderstanding could result in entire families being sent to prison work camps for the rest of their lives, or execution in front of an entire village to make a point.
While his commandos had lived in America and enjoyed the spoils afforded its citizens, they hadn’t forgotten their roots and the hardships that led them to this point. Under Holloway’s tutelage, they’d chosen the path of evil, and tonight they were going to use their training to inflict harm on a city of unsuspecting Texans who had dodged the apocalyptic bullet in the form of the EMP.
“In a few minutes, we will begin our attack,” started Holloway as he walked to the center of the spacious warehouse where the commandos were hidden with their vehicles. His voice boomed through the metal building and was easily heard by his men, who inched forward to encircle their leader. “You know your assignments and your targets. Once we inflict our initial chaos, the next target will be the prize. There are a few things I want to remind you about as we prepare for this battle.
“The enemy will be caught off guard and may appear confused or unprepared at first. Do not mistake their apparent incompetence as a sign of weakness. They are good fighters. I also believe they are led by a seasoned military warrior who should be feared.
>
“When engaging our enemy, I want you to pay attention to detail. Stay alert at all times, and take nothing for granted. We will be outnumbered and cannot afford to lose a single man.
“Be aware of your surroundings. Look for fallback positions and rally points if you get overrun. Communicate with the other men in your team. Hand signals when possible, vocally as a last resort.
“Each of you is a valuable asset to this operation and possesses special skills to accomplish our purpose. I have divided you into teams with that in mind. Remember each other’s strengths and weaknesses when you enter the battle. Unlike our enemy, you have trained in the streets. You’ve done battle in cities and towns. They have not. They’ve studied in classrooms or within the confines of a military base. Maybe some have spent time in the Middle East, as I have, but nothing there has prepared them for an attack on their homeland. Take advantage of their inability to comprehend what’s happening and strike lightning fast, as you’ve been trained!”
Holloway raised his rifle in the air, and his men began to shout victory in English, or manse, the North Korean equivalent, which honored Kim Jong-il. Holloway didn’t care where they drew their inspiration from, as long as they did their job like warriors.
Earlier that morning, he and General Lee had reviewed the operation for the final time before the North Korean leader left for his own target located southwest of Fort Worth. At four minutes past midnight, all teams would initiate their attacks and not stop until the entire ERCOT power grid was taken off-line. The two leaders exchanged words of encouragement and wished one another luck as they parted ways forever.
For two days, Holloway and his top lieutenants had conducted surveillance around the three substations, which connected Lubbock Power & Light, or LP&L, to the ERCOT grid. Using stolen iPhones they’d taken from unsuspecting Texans they’d ambushed, Holloway’s men photographed the substations and their surroundings in detail. Upon return to Patricia each evening, they’d shared the photos with other members of their team so they’d become familiar with their targets.