"Yes, I did see that on the news before I left town. Didn't you meet him in Denver?" asked Angie.
"Yes, I had breakfast with him and his wife one morning. Angie, do you have anything for me on that story?" Tim was insistent.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I ran some queries through the system and came up with some very interesting data. Can you come up to Rockville today? I've got all the printouts here at my apartment. I'll have to explain some of them to you; they don't read very well."
"I'll be there in an hour, Angie," said Tim. He wasn't sure if he was going up there to see Angie, or to follow up on the convention story. With the riot dominating the news for the past week, he had almost forgotten the other story. But now that the riot was over, especially since Winston had been the first victim, he wanted to direct his energy back to the story of the western convention. He had a very strong instinct that the movement for separatism just might be resurrected.
He arrived at Angie's apartment complex exactly an hour later, picking his way through the closed off streets and restricted beltways. Angie greeted him as he rang her doorbell. "Tim, come on in. You look like you haven't slept for a week."
"You're about right. I've averaged about three hours sleep a night since last week. You wouldn't have a good cup of coffee, Angie?"
"You bet I do, and I made some sandwiches, too. I figured you might be a little hungry," said Angie, taking Tim by the arm and leading him back to the dining area. They sat down at the table where there were sandwiches, some salad and a pot of coffee. Tim drank the coffee as soon as Angie poured it, and gulped down two sandwiches.
"Easy, boy, I got more. When was the last time you ate?" she teased him. Angie poured him more coffee and made him another sandwich.
"Angie, you're the greatest. I feel like a human being again. This riot has drained me. It's really good to see you again." He was genuinely happy to see her and it showed in his smile and eyes.
"Tim, here's the stuff I was able to get before I left town. I need to explain some of it. What I did was cross reference the names against the Social Security data base. Once I got their numbers, I was able to do searches against various data bases to see if any recent entries showed up. These are reference lists here and the query requests here," she explained carefully, knowing how pitifully ignorant Tim was about computers. She really couldn't understand how he could be so good at news reporting and so dumb about computers.
She continued, "OK, I found this entry in the Personnel System. It showed an appointment to the federal bench for a man named Di'Agusto, effective the first of September. He was one of the delegates who opposed secession, wasn't he? Now, here we have a suspicious looking loan made to the next name on your list for the construction of a housing complex in Portland, Oregon. It wasn't made to him directly, but to one of his subsidiary construction companies. Now, I found a very interesting entry in the FBI computer that I want you to look at. I'm not sure what it means."
"You can get into the FBI computer too?" asked Tim incredulously. "Let's see that a minute." What Tim found was a partly encoded report from a field agent to the Kansas City office. It used code names for people, but Tim easily deduced that references were to delegates from Oklahoma, New Mexico and Utah who had changed their votes on Resolution 5. The FBI attempt to mask the identity of the people was almost childish. It referred to 'Rancher' and 'TallRed' and 'Rockman' as a cattle magnate, a man standing 6'4" with red hair and a geology teacher from Montana. The report went on to assign probabilities for the men to change their votes from for to against. TallRed was given a probability factor of 9 of 10, whereas Rockman was assigned a 10. In addition, the report suggested that they could be pressured to vote a certain way by confronting them with some mild sins of the past.
"Well I'll be damned," said Tim. "There was an effort by the FBI to get to the delegates. They blackmailed some of the delegates!"
"Oh, it gets better than that, Tim. Look at this little jewel here." Angie was holding a printout derived from one of the several 'National Security' agencies. Tim read it with an incredulous look on his face.
"So this bureau was ready to cause a little accident at the convention center if the vote for secession appeared to go well. They had explosive charges wired to the electrical panels, made to look like an accident. It would have blacked out the convention hall. Not bad. A little crude, but very effective. Damn, I thought all this kind of crap ended with Watergate and G. Gordon Liddy. Angie, that convention never had a chance. It was rigged by the government from the day it opened. But how did they even know that the subject of secession would even be discussed at the convention?"
"Funny you should ask," said Angie, obviously enjoying herself for the first time in a week. "Look at this printout. It contains an assessment of the convention and a complete report on Tom Adams, Senator Winston, Governor McKay, Sam Brouchet and a Canadian named Robert Jeffries. Huh, I don't know who any of these people are except Adams and Winston. It came from another national security type department."
"Angie, this is incredible," said Tim, almost whispering, somehow afraid that the Feds had bugged Angie's apartment. "Can I take this stuff with me?"
"You sure can, but not tonight, dear boy. You're going to take a shower, shave, and take a little nap. When you wake up, you and I have a three hour date. It's payback time, Timmy." Angie was moving closer to him, smiling a mischievous little grin. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. Tired as he was, he sensed himself grow hard. Angie sensed it too and pressed harder against him.
"I'll take you up on that shower and shave, but the nap can wait. I've got something else on my mind."
"And what might that be?" asked Angie, very coyly.
"Seeing you in the nude, lying on the bed," he said.
"I'll meet you in the bedroom. The bathroom is right through there," she said pointing behind Tim. Tim showered as quickly as he could, his first in three days, then found a small razor and shaved as well as possible with hot water and soap. All the while he was thinking about Angie, her long legs, her marvelous figure. His thoughts of her kept him from realizing how tired he was just a few minutes before. When Tim left the bathroom, he walked into Angie's bedroom. He had wrapped a towel around his waist for modesty, but when he saw Angie lying on the bed bathed in the dim light of a table lamp, he dropped the towel and sat on the corner of the bed. Angie was lying on her right side, looking at Tim. She had pulled her left leg up and over her right, which tended to emphasize the roundness of her hip, which Tim was now drinking in with his eyes.
"See anything you like, Tim?" she asked in a husky voice, her breath now coming in short, shallow measures.
"Oh, yes. Just everything. I didn't realize until now just how really beautiful you are," said Tim. He was already rock hard and wanted to plunge into the moist soft delight, but he contained himself. He wanted to do something for Angie that he had thought about for many years. Tim positioned himself on the end of the bed and spread Angie's legs apart very gently. He began by kissing her knees and inner thighs, moving very slowly up her luscious thighs until he reached that warm, soft mound between her legs. Angie sensed what he wanted and was only too happy to afford Tim the opportunity. She spread her legs wide apart and moved up on the bed slightly to give Tim more room to gain the position he needed.
Angie moaned softly as Tim thrust his tongue into her moist softness. Tim expertly moved his tongue to her clitoris and rolled it around until he sensed Angie hunching against his mouth. Tim immersed himself in the pleasure of the moment. He drank in her smell, her moistness, the sights and sounds. Continuing this until he felt Angie tensing for her release, he put his lips over her clit and sucked very gently. As he continued he could feel Angie moving her hips and stomach in an undulating up and down motion.
"Oh, Tim, don't stop. Please don't stop," she cried. "Make me come, Tim. Make me co...., Oh, God." At last she came with a loud moan, wrapping her legs around Tim's head and squeezing as the waves of
release moved up and down her body.
"Oh, God, that was good, Tim," she sighed in a voice barely audible. "Why did we wait so damn long to get together? Oh, Jeez. Can I return the favor?"
"Not tonight," he answered. "I need something else."
"Take whatever you want, Timmy. You've earned it."
Tim had softened somewhat from his efforts to give Angie her pleasure. He had concentrated so much on Angie's needs that he had almost forgotten his own. But in only a few seconds, seeing Angie's long legs and round breasts, her luscious mouth and smooth skin, he recovered his hardness. Angie guessed what he needed and spread her legs while pulling up her knees slightly. Tim moved on top of her and found her softness with his own hard shaft. It entered effortlessly; she was still very wet from his previous efforts. He looked down at Angie's sweet, beautiful face. She smiled at him. That smile had the curious effect of making him even harder and he moved into her with long, slow strokes. She responded by wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and her arms around his neck. Her well conditioned body was both soft and firm, muscular and yielding, and the overall effect was overwhelming to Tim. Tired from the week's events, excited by his efforts to bring Angie her pleasure, he could hold back no longer. His body ached to give vent to his needs, to explode and finally to rest. When he did come, the pleasure was so intense that for an instant he was outside himself looking down at the two on the bed. It was not a frightening experience, only curious. He would think about that later, he thought to himself, but quickly he collapsed in Angie's arms and fell asleep in a few minutes. Angie assured herself that Tim was asleep, moved him to his side of the bed and, exhausted herself, quickly fell asleep.
The following morning, when they were both awake and now fully rested from the previous night, they made love again, slowly and deliciously. Each explored the other with mouth and tongue, exquisite exploration that produced groans and gasps. At last when they were both spent from the lovemaking, they took showers and sat in the small kitchen to drink some coffee.
"Angie, last night was the greatest night of my life. I wanted to do that for years, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself."
"Tim, I think until last night we just sort of thought of ourselves as friends, not lovers. Maybe the events of the last few days, the riot, the killing and everything made us grow up and realize that nothing lasts forever, that maybe we better take advantage of whatever comes along."
Tim looked at Angie very pensively and finally said, somewhat awkwardly, "Angie, I feel like I should say something or do something to let you know I really care about you and hate to leave you today and get back to work. But I do have to leave soon and try to make sense out of this mess in the District and what happened in Denver."
"Tim, don't tell me you feel guilty about last night! Hey, I'm a big girl now. I didn't do anything I didn't want to do. We both have jobs to get back to. Well at least you do. I'm not sure about mine right now. We had a good time last night. We both enjoyed it. We're still friends and I hope we always will be, but you don't have to marry me, Tim." Angie was smiling that disarming smile at Tim, trying to alleviate his feelings. Tim returned the smile, then held her face in his hands and kissed her rather gently on the mouth.
Later that day, Tim decided to call Governor Adams of Colorado. He wasn't sure that he even should call him, but his instinct was driving him now. He felt that Adams had a right to know what had happened at the convention. Especially now since his friend Bob Winston was dead and buried in Idaho.
"Governor Adams, this is Tim Mullenski, a reporter with CNN. I covered the convention in Denver. I also just left Washington after covering the riots there. I just want you to know how very sorry I am that your old friend Senator Winston was killed. It was a terrible tragedy."
"Thank you, Tim. I appreciate your concern. News reporters aren't supposed to have feelings, are they? You must be part of the new breed of TV reporters," Adams chided. "What is the purpose of your call? Surely not to talk about Bob Winston."
"Well, to some extent, that is exactly why I called. I have some information that I recently obtained that I think you will be interested in. Can I come out to Denver tonight and talk to you about it? It has to do with the convention and why the delegates defeated Resolution 5."
"That's old news. A dead issue. Why would I be interested in that?" shot back Tom, lying just a little.
"The convention was rigged against you. You never had a fair chance. Can I come out and talk to you about it?"
"I'll send a driver to pick you up at the airport. What flight will you be on?" asked Tom, his curiosity now fully piqued. The ride from the airport to the hotel where Tim had agreed to meet Governor Adams was uneventful and brief. Tom Adams was waiting for Tim in the lounge of the hotel. Tim walked straight to the table where Tom Adams was sitting. "Governor, I'm not sure that we should look at this material here in the lounge. Is there somewhere else that we could go?" asked Tim.
"I feel safer in this lounge than any place in the United States. If you've got something for me to look at, I would appreciate it if you would show me." Tom was not in a mood to play games with the young reporter.
"Governor, I have sources in the government who have been able to extract some very interesting data concerning some of the delegates and the way the convention itself was being monitored by the Feds. All of these papers here are printouts from various government computers. I should not have these printouts, I hope you understand, and I would have to deny ever seeing them if it became an issue. But most of the stuff in here is available because it is public information." With that, Tim spread the papers out on the table while nervously looking around the room.
Tom Adams first picked up the paper showing Di'Agusto's appointment to the bench. He proceeded through the other papers, shaking his head as he picked up each paper and placed the other in a neat stack. "Where did you get this material, Tim? Oh, never mind. I know better than to ask a question like that. How reliable is this information?"
"It is extremely reliable," answered Tim.
"So reliable that you would include it in a story on TV?" asked Tom.
"I intend to use it on just such a story. I came out here to show it to you first."
"Tim, you're an honorable man. I like that in a person. Did you ever meet Bob Winston? I think he would have liked you."
"I did have the pleasure of meeting him one time a couple of weeks ago, during the convention. He was a very impressive gentleman."
"Yes, he was that," mused Tom already formulating a new plan in his mind. "Will you stay and have dinner with me? How well do you know Denver? Have you spent any time here other than covering the convention? Spend some time with me before you fly out." Tom Adams was feeling in a very cordial mood.
Chapter VII
The Break is Planned
After Tim Mullenski left, Tom Adams went back to his office and called Sam Brouchet at his office. "Sam, I've got some very interesting papers here and I think we need to call another meeting of the group. We owe this one to Bob Winston."
"What's up, Tom? What kind of papers?" asked Sam.
"I really don't think I should discuss it over the phone. Will you call Bill McKay and Hal Browning and I'll call George Brazleton and Robert Jeffries. I just hope he's still interested. How about day after tomorrow at the Lodge?"
"That's pretty short notice, Tom. Is it really that critical?" asked Sam. It had been a long week for him and he was obviously fatigued.
"It's more important than you can imagine. You were right, Sam. We only lost round one. I've got an idea that I think all of you will be interested in. In two days, Sam," said Tom with an air of confidence.
"OK, Tom. I'll be there. Should I bring Mitch along?"
"Not for this one. We'll need him later, though."
It required some persuasion, but the other men agreed to drop their schedules and meet at the Lodge in two days. The weather was crisp and clear when they arrived at the Four Pines Lodge in Idaho,
the site of their first meeting in May. The men had lunch in the restaurant then retired to the same cabin that Bob Winston had occupied in the earlier gathering. Tom had ordered a large pot of coffee from the restaurant and, after the men had poured themselves cups of the hot brew, they sat down to listen to Tom Adams.
"Gentlemen," Tom began. "We met here a couple of months ago, discussed a plan to call a convention in Denver, called the convention then watched it collapse when Resolution 5 was defeated. We all assumed that sentiment for the formation of a new nation died while the convention met. We thought that a number of delegates got cold feet or were not convinced of the wisdom of such a bold act. But I was visited by a bright young reporter two days ago who gave me some very interesting papers." Tom took the papers from his briefcase and laid them on the table in front of Sam Brouchet and Robert Jeffries.
"I would like all of you to look at these papers. I'm not going to tell you what they are. I'd rather each of you form your own opinion, to see if they have the same effect on you that they had on me."
Sam Brouchet picked up one of the papers, the printout showing Phillip Di'Agusto's appointment to the federal bench. Bill McKay found another printout, as did the others. They all sat looking at the dull grey computer paper, shaking their heads in disbelief. The men passed the forms from one to the other until each had seen all the printouts. During the fifteen to twenty minutes required to digest the material the men said absolutely nothing, only shaking their heads in disbelief.
Finally Sam broke the silence. "Those bastards in Washington rigged the convention. We never really had a chance, did we? They bought Phil Di'Agusto. They bought him off with a court appointment."
The Second Declaration Page 10