by Gordon Ryan
Perhaps the most surprising visitor at the viewing was Colonel Pug Connor. Dan had met Connor only twice, and the discovery that Nicole was somehow involved in his work was, to Dan’s mind, one of several continuing revelations about this remarkable woman who had come to play such a large role in his life. In departing the courthouse, Connor asked if it would be possible to meet with Dan the following day, privately, in Dan’s Davis apartment. With advance warning from Nicole, Dan had given thought to the practicality of such a meeting, dreading a repeat of how Senator Turner had taken advantage of his naivete. But with Nicole’s assurance that Connor could be trusted, Dan agreed.
By one o’clock, the small entourage had driven the twelve miles to the tiny country cemetery in Esparto, west of Woodland at the head of Rumsey Valley. By request of Mrs. Rawlings, only immediate family members were present, including Dan’s sister and their father, both of whom, after a phone call from Dan, had flown back to the States from New Zealand. A few of Jack’s Shriner colleagues attended as well, along with the officiator who performed a portion of the ceremony. Standing at the graveside, breathing in the pungent aroma of almond orchards, dusty fields, and fragrant blossoms-Rumsey Valley ambiance-Dan experienced a flood of memories.
As he listened to the local minister recount Jack’s life and his contributions to the valley, he envisioned those early days when the Rumsey family, along with dozens of other families, had fought to tame the land-first to provide a living for their families, and then to develop a thriving enterprise.
Nicole stood close to Dan, her arm linked with his as they watched Jack’s flag-covered casket lower into the ground beside his beloved Ellen. The small military honor guard from the Woodland Veterans of Foreign Wars detachment folded and presented the flag to Dan’s mother as Jack’s next of kin. Moments earlier, the honor guard had shattered the peace of the valley by firing three volleys from their seven rifles, in honor of Jack’s naval service to his country during World War II. Protectively aware of his mother standing next to him, Dan breathed deeply and raised his face slowly, scanning the foothills encasing the valley-hills he had roamed as a boy, hills where Jack had taught him to identify the flora and fauna of the valley and tutored him in so many other ways.
His eyes rising higher to the light cloud cover that Jack had always watched in earnest, searching for rain, Dan struggled to retain his composure as this phase of his life concluded. So much of his life was changing in such a short time. Echoes of the violent events of the previous day were reverberating in every city and town in California. Repercussions would haunt them all for weeks and months to come. But for the moment, Dan, along with his mother and father, his sister Kate and her husband, and Nicole, stood silently as the patriarch of the Rumsey family was laid to rest. Tomorrow would be soon enough to re-enter the conflict-to continue the fight that Jack had so adamantly insisted Dan pursue. Dan gave silent thanks that Jack had been spared the necessity of watching his country move toward dissolution after his eighty-four years of working and fighting to establish Rumsey Valley-Jack’s small contribution to the whole.
Leaving his mother’s side for a moment, Dan stepped toward the grave and tossed a small assortment of flowers onto the casket, now in its final resting place beside Ellen.
“I love you, Jack,” Dan whispered. “God rest your soul.”
Chapter 30
Davis, California
Dan woke to the insistent ringing of the telephone on his night table, startled by its intensity and surprised that he had actually slept, soundly it seemed, for at least the past few hours. In spite of the turmoil and lack of sleep over the past few days, he had been unable to drop off the previous night, and the last recollection he had was of the numbers on his digital clock reading 2:33. They now read 6:45.
“Hello,” he answered groggily.
“Dan? It’s Jean Waters. Sorry to wake you so early, but I knew you’d be busy and probably would leave quickly. Got a moment?”
“Sure, Jean. How’ve you been?”
“Probably better than you, Dan. Please accept my sympathy on the loss of your grandfather. When I called your office yesterday, they advised me of the family tragedy.”
“Thank you, Jean,” Dan said, sitting up in bed and sliding his legs over the side.
“Dan, I wanted to let you know that Voices in My Blood is going into a fourth printing. Over 400,000 copies on the shelves, and more importantly, most of those are already in homes. I’m really sorry to have to approach you with business at such a time, but we’ve received a firm offer from MiraMax for film rights. Five million, Dan-fifty percent of which will be yours.”
Dan paused. “Jean, if you think it’s a good offer and the best we’ll get, I’ll trust your judgment. I’ve got to leave that to you for awhile. I’m sorry if I’m not as engaged as I should be, but-”
“Not to worry, Dan. I understand. If that’s agreeable to you, I’ll accept and FedEx you the contract.”
“That’ll be fine. Send it to my legislative office. I’ll be spending most of my time there for the next several weeks.”
“Okay. My regards to your family. I’ll get this off today.”
“Thanks, Jean. Have a good day.”
Dan sat on the edge of the bed for a moment after replacing the receiver and contemplated the success of his novel. From his original $400,000 advance against future sales, he had already earned nearly $750,000, far exceeding expectations, and now $2.5 million for the film! Added to the additional $800,000 advance on his next two-book contract, he’d made over $3.5 million in the past six months on his first literary effort. It all seemed unreal to him, and he shook his head as he rose and headed for the shower.
Jack was gone, and America was slipping further away. Life’s highs and lows never seemed to coincide, but at least they offset one another, and perhaps that was for the best.
After showering and shaving, Dan broke a couple of eggs in boiling water to poach and popped two slices of bread in the toaster. He poured himself a glass of orange juice while waiting for his eggs. A light knock on the door, one which he’d grown to love along with the voice that accompanied it, broke his concentration as he stood leaning against the sink, staring out the kitchen window. The door opened, and Nicole stepped into the room, dressed casually.
“Enough for two?” she asked, smoothing his hair in place.
“Always,” he replied. “Get any sleep?”
“Probably more than you. You’ve got enough bags under your eyes to take a trip to Europe,” she said, kissing his cheek.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then stretched his arms over his head, loosening his back muscles. “My eyes feel like the airlines sent those bags to Dubai while I was headed for Tokyo, but I’ll recover. When’s Connor coming?”
“Should be here any time. He called me on my cell while I was driving here and said he’d be about fifteen minutes. I’ve not mentioned it, but Pug also has family in New Zealand. You have more in common than it appears. He’s not out to trap you, Dan.”
“What’s he want, Nicole?”
“I need to let him make that pitch. Actually, I’m not certain of the extent of his intentions. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind, although he’s pretty careful about distribution on a ‘need-to-know’ basis.”
“Intelligence training, I suppose. Maybe he’s run into a few ‘Turners’ over the years.”
“Could be.” Nicole smiled. “Eggs are ready.”
Stacking the dishes in the dishwasher, Dan heard the doorbell ring and Nicole go to answer it. He wiped his hands on the dishtowel and entered the living room. Connor was dressed in slacks, a golf shirt, and a pullover sweater. Dan hadn’t paid much attention to Connor’s physical appearance when they had met at the armory with General Del Valle, but now Dan could see he kept fit. In his early forties, Connor was just over six feet, trim at about one hundred and ninety pounds, and still had a full head of dark brown hair.
“Morning, Colonel Connor.
”
“Good morning, Dan. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Pug. No need for protocol.”
“Yes, sir,” Dan said, eliciting another smile from Connor. “Have a seat, Pug. Can I get you something to drink? I just made some fresh coffee.”
“That’d be fine, just black please. How are you doing, Dan? It’s been a tough couple of days. And your mom-how’s she holding up?”
Dan poured coffee for Connor and returned, placing the cup and saucer on the table next to Pug’s chair, then sitting next to Nicole on the couch. “Mom’s fine. We’ll all miss Jack a great deal. He was the spark plug in the family.”
“Seems to me you’ve picked up some of that spark,” Connor suggested.
Dan grinned. “Don’t feel like I’m running on all cylinders this morning.”
“That’s understandable. Let’s get to the heart of the matter. California’s in flames and has been for the past seventy-two hours. It’s coming back under control, but there are those who keep adding fuel and fanning the fires, and I’m not talking about the politicians, although they certainly do their part-in their own self-interest, of course.”
Dan looked at Nicole and then smiled directly at Connor. Pug took the cue.
“Present company excepted, of course,” he said, apparently remembering Dan’s newly acquired legislative role. Nicole and Dan starting laughing.
“Oops,” Pug replied, easing the sub-surface tension present since his arrival. “Dan, in all seriousness, we need to be candid with each other this morning. I want to talk to you about recent events, California’s future, your future-in short, I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“Colonel, we’re rapidly moving down opposite tracks.”
“I know-that’s the problem. We should be on the same track, don’t you think?”
“I did, Colonel, but look what happened on Friday-the insertion of that level of federal troops and the needless bloodshed. Was that necessary?”
“Most of the blood came from the 82nd Airborne.”
“Colonel, it doesn’t matter who was killed, they were all Americans,” Dan said, quickly realizing the unintended corollary of his reference.
“Exactly,” Connor said softly. “They were all Americans. Isn’t that the best explanation for why we need to work together? I’m here to ask you to help us all remain Americans.”
“Colonel Connor, perhaps you should tell me exactly what it is you’re suggesting.”
Pug glanced at Nicole, took a sip of his coffee, and settled back into his chair. “Several months ago, the president formed a small investigative task force to look into the origins of the California secession movement. A diverse group of intelligence and law enforcement professionals were assigned to that task force, including a couple of special agents from the FBI.”
Connor hesitated briefly as Dan looked at Nicole, shaking his head slowly, side to side.
“Nicole,” Dan asked, “when will you stop amazing me?”
“Never, I hope,” she replied. “Truly, Dan, I’ve had a real hard time with this, and I’ve explained it all to Colonel Connor on several occasions, but, well, I just was required to keep quiet. Dan,” she said, apprehensively, “it doesn’t mean that-”
Dan reached for her hand and kissed the back of it before looking to Connor.
“You were saying, Pug.”
“Nicole’s right, Dan. I thought at one point I’d lose her, because she felt she was betraying the confidence the two of you were developing, but we’ve got to move beyond that. I’m asking you to be a part of our team, unofficially.”
“And how does one become part of a president’s task force ‘unofficially,’ Colonel? Isn’t that a bit like being sort of pregnant?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Connor replied, nodding his head in agreement. “You’re in or you’re out, right?”
Dan stood and moved to the window of his apartment, standing quietly for a moment, staring out over the campus of the University of California at Davis. He turned back toward Pug and Nicole. “Colonel, like it or not, California is on the path to separation. You’re appealing to my loyalty to America, which, if events continue, will make me a traitor to California. That’s not much of a choice-condemned if I do and condemned if I don’t.”
“You’re right, except for one issue about which you, and most others, are unaware.”
Dan raised his eyebrows and stared at Nicole.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Not guilty. Well, maybe a little guilty,” she said sheepishly. “It’s really serious business, Dan, and I don’t mean to make light of it.” Nicole looked toward Connor, who nodded.
“Nicole, I think it’s time for you to bare your soul,” Connor said.
“Since early on, my FBI assignment has been to investigate the California militia units. That was part of the reason I was assigned to Colonel Connor’s task force. Last year, I was called in on an apparent drug overdose by the Director of Elections for the state of California. You may remember the news story-it was the Phelps case. In the course of the investigation, it became apparent that it was a murder, but the Sacramento police accepted it as a straight overdose. Then a few months ago, I was called by the acting director-a woman I had questioned back in the Phelps case. She wanted to talk to me, but I was out of the office for a few days, and she was told to call back on Monday. She was murdered less than forty-eight hours after calling my office, but before she had a chance to talk to me. Another lower-level employee of the elections office was found dead in the trunk of her car. The point is, Dan, that we have sufficient reason to believe that the California elections have been tampered with, and if so, well, you can jump to the obvious conclusion yourself. We think that what the public sees as overwhelming support for secession is nothing but the result of an engineered election.”
Dan faced back toward the window and continued to look out at the campus grounds, now beginning to fill with students enroute to their early morning classes.
“Let’s assume for a moment that what you say is true.” He swiveled around, smiling at Nicole, not wanting to damage their relationship by refuting her analysis. “Then we have to recognize that even if the origins were fallacious, public support has been garnered, and the momentum is growing. In fact, if the legislative pollsters are right, it’s downright strong. Friday’s bloodbath did nothing to stem the growth of that support.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Connor interjected, “and if we don’t do something to curtail that growth, it will just grow stronger. Dan, more than one political movement had its origins in deception and its end result in success for the originators. How do you think the Tories felt when the radicals-Sam Adams, Revere, and the others-began their diatribe against the Crown? That’s what they were then, radicals and traitors to their country. They became heroes later, didn’t they?”
“And you’re asking me to assume the same role?”
“Even though it might seem farfetched to you, I believe devious people are at work right now, and we need to step in.”
“What people are we talking about, Colonel?”
“Tell him the rest, Nicole,” Connor said.
Nicole held out her hand. Dan came and resumed his seat next to her on the couch.
“Dan, we had an agent in the Shasta Brigade for almost a year-that’s how I knew you weren’t part of the group. He was killed in the ATF ambush, although no one knows that outside of the task force. We succeeded in getting someone else inside two months ago, and he has advised that representatives of the brigade will be coming to see you shortly.”
“Me?” Dan asked.
“Dan,” Connor said, “look at it from their point of view. You’re going to write the constitution for this rebel nation. Not only are you akin to Adams and Revere, but they see you as a James Madison figure, much as Senator Turner portrayed you in his diatribe last week in Modesto. These boys want to assure themselves that when you write this document, you’ll protect and, in line with their desires, st
rengthen their second amendment right to bear arms. They want to ensure you’ll write it up to their liking. You’re gonna be their main man.”
“And if I don’t listen to them, or refuse to go along with their demands?”
“It’s show-time for them. No one will be allowed to stand in their way, and as they see it, ten years from now they’ll all be heroes in the same sense as the colonial Minutemen at Concord and Lexington. How they achieved their objectives will be lost in translation.”
“What was it you said on the drive down to Modesto?” Nicole asked. “The winners write the history?”
Dan smiled at Nicole and looked toward Pug. “What do you want from me?”
“We need your help to expose this group before it’s too late. I need you to meet with their leadership, listen to their demands, and at least appear willing to consider their point of view. They’re not going to welcome you with open arms, but in light of recent events in Sacramento, you could appear to have modified your view toward federal intrusion, just a little bit, if you get my meaning.”
“Now I’m for secession, is that it?”
“That’s too blatant. Not ‘for it,’ but in light of the events at the Capitol last week, you’re just not so adamantly against it. ‘Beginning to see the light,’ would be one way to describe it.”
Once more Dan rose and moved to the window, indulging his habit of taking the long view, literally, enabling him to consider the request before him.
“The governor trusts me, Colonel, and I don’t intend to betray that trust. There’s been too much betrayal already.”