Days of Reckoning

by Chris Stout

  “But he hasn’t been connected personally to any of these incidents.”

  “We haven’t been able to establish anything concrete, no,” the agent replied.

  “Okay, so we’ll have to be vigilant after the event as well. Can you enlighten us as to what we can expect after he leaves?”

  The shorter agent responded. “Mostly scare tactics. Crosses being burned in yards, rocks thrown through the windows of minority churches. Occasionally there have been fires set.”

  “I don’t suppose this reverend was in West Virginia a couple of months ago?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, he was there almost two months ago.”

  “So that was right before the firebombing there that killed those two people,” Sam said. “And Miranda’s brother was one of the suspects. And now he’s dead, which is why she went after the militia here. So if she knows that Reverend Mercer was the catalyst, he’d be an awfully tempting target.”

  “So,” Blankenship said, “the question about her still stands. Is she going to cause trouble for us today?”

  Sam debated how to answer that. With a connection established between The Reverend and her brother, all of his instincts said that Miranda would be there gunning for him. The man advocated killing innocents, just because of their skin tone. The people Miranda had killed… well, she went after those who themselves wanted to kill. He remembered Hector and Hal, lying in the hospital from gunshot wounds inflicted by members of this Sparta Militia. Part of him was inclined to let her take The Reverend down. But he also remembered Jesse McClintock’s neighbor, an innocent bystander gunned down so she could escape. He wondered what would happen if the police did find and close in on her. How many would she sacrifice to get away?

  He cleared his throat nervously, aware that everyone was waiting for his answer. “Maybe it’s possible that she could be a threat,” he finally said. “Not to the people at Unity Day, but maybe to those who are against it. But bear in mind that she’s hurt. We found traces of her blood at the trailer last night. She’s tired; she has to be, because I am, and we’ve been keeping the same hours. We don’t know how long she was held by those men in the trailer, so there’s the possibility she was sexually assaulted. And remember that she was also wounded a few nights ago as well. Her reserves are bound to be low. If she shows up, she’ll make a mistake. We have her ID’d, including what she might look like with an altered appearance. If she’s there, we’ll catch her.”

  “Good,” Blankenship said. “I don’t want Armageddon breaking out on my campus.”

  The group discussed some more procedural details, and then broke up to oversee the progress made by their respective subordinates. Sam caught the attention of the two FBI agents, and they drew aside with him for a private conference.

  “This Reverend guy,” Sam said, “does he have any kind of entourage? Travel with any heavies or anyone like that?”

  “He’s usually got a couple of men he refers to as his Deacons in tow. They act as his personal bodyguard. We’ll be making sure that they aren’t armed. Some of them have carry permits, but they’re never allowed to carry weapons at a public gathering. We’ll make sure they’re clean.”

  “Any leads come up on those weapons I found at Beaumont’s house?” Sam asked. “Or any of the weapons that may have disappeared from there?”

  The shorter agent replied, “Those M16’s were stolen from a National Guard Armory. A Squad Automatic Weapon also disappeared. It hasn’t turned up yet. Other rifles were also taken; they’ve been turning up across the country. It’s likely the SAW is out there somewhere.”

  “I found a lot of spare ammunition in that shelter as well. It could have been to feed that machine gun.”

  “Possible,” the tall agent said. “But who’s going to be using it? You said yourself the militia’s been wiped out.”

  Sam had a thought of who might be interested in the weapon. He started to open his mouth, but the short agent cut him off. “This Reverend guy preaches a lot of nasty shit, no doubt. But he knows that if anything goes down while he’s in town, his ass is going to cook. If there’s going to be a machine gun incident involving militant units, it’ll be after he leaves.”

  “Wonderful thing to look forward too,” Sam said.

  “I agree,” Shorty replied. “International terrorists have been stealing the spotlight lately, but our own home-grown variety is at least as dangerous. They’re well-armed, motivated, and right now not a whole lot of attention is being paid to them. What makes it worse is that profiling doesn’t work for these guys; they all look just like you and me.”

  Sam couldn’t argue with that.

  “These groups operate in small cells,” the tall agent said, “so they’re hard to find. And catching one doesn’t mean you’ll catch any more. Off the record, this girl of yours, she’s had a higher success rate than a lot of our stings. A whole unit discovered, confronted and eliminated. When it’s all said and done, a lot more attention is going to have to be paid to finding these ‘good old boys.’ A sick part of me almost wished she was working for us. But, of course you didn’t hear me say that.”

  “Well, she did work for me. She’s smart, skilled and apparently ruthless as hell. I’m not excited about crossing swords with her.”

  “We’ve got a lot of resources here,” Shorty replied. “And you said yourself that she’s not doing too well. She shows up, I think we’ll be ready for her.”

  Chapter 38

  Unity Day in Sparta had started out as a small gathering in support of a gay actor at the college who had been severely beaten after a performance. It quickly became the focal point for many different racial, ethnic and religious minorities, standing as the one event where they could gather and be the majority for a change. Over the past few years, everyone in the college and most of the people in the town had jumped onto the bandwagon. It was more of a festival, now, with everything from vendors hawking food and wares out of booths lining the streets of Sparta, to celebrities coming in to address the crowd. It had also recently drawn a small number of people protesting against the spirit of commonality. Many folks in the area still bore deep resentments against other races and creeds. Men like The Reverend quickly picked up on such sentiments, and used them as a launch pad for their own so-called ministries. The number of people who stood in opposition to what Unity Day stood for was relatively small, but they were a vocal lot, and loved nothing more than confrontation. Hard-line activists from both camps frequently engaged in shouting matches, but the police kept them from coming to blows during the rallies. Afterwards, especially when the groups gathered at bars, things sometimes did get rough. But Unity Day itself had always been a relatively calm affair. Lots of people showed up from out-of-town, and the local shop owners, regardless of their personal beliefs, looked forward to the surge in business that came with the production.

  Miranda spent the rest of the morning making the last of her preparations. She had hoped to have everything done the night before, but the events at the trailer had put her behind schedule. She left Tracy’s car where it was parked in the public garage off campus; it was only a few blocks from her current perch. She avoided confrontation with any police officers, but only just barely. Most of the time she could walk in the open, but there were several close calls where she had been forced to cross the street or change her route. She made it, nonetheless, and sat in a chair, scanning the scene below with a pair of binoculars.

  With the noontime hour approaching, the crowd began to swell. Families shopped for trinkets and specialty ethnic foods being sold by the street-side vendors. The students of the college were finally awake and milling about, adding their numbers to the crowd. Most of them congregated on the campus quad. A stage had been set up near the gates that separated the campus from the rest of the city; it was there that the invited guests would make their presentations. A smaller area was roped off diagonally across the quad from the main stage. A few folding chairs were set up, and several deputies and patrolmen ha
d taken up position. This was where The Reverend would be holding his counter-rally.

  Miranda wasn’t exactly sure when he would make his appearance. His permit to gather was good for the bulk of the afternoon. He usually liked to wait for a crowd to grow before making his grand entrance. Plenty of time for the people to get good and agitated. The Reverend thrived on discontent; if nothing else, he was a master at directing people’s anger.

  Miranda had prepared herself for a long wait. She spent much of the morning dozing. Several water bottles and granola bars were close at hand to keep her fed and hydrated. It was a warm day, but she had the trench coat just in case. She was naturally well armed; in fact, the weapons and magazines gathered around her would be too heavy to carry when it was time to leave. She had one of the MP-5’s waiting for her in the car. The other would be her insurance when she left; the rest of the heavy weapons would remain behind. Her pistols were securely holstered; hopefully they wouldn’t be necessary. She had even planned for the contingency of using the bathroom. It would not do to be caught making a run for the call of nature. One of her friends from school however, had inspired her with a bawdy drinking story. To avoid having to use the disgusting restroom facilities of the local bars, the young woman had worn a pair of disposable undergarments designed for adults who needed help with incontinence. She swore they worked, at least for a few hours, although it was hard to carry spares and they certainly weren’t recommended when one was out in search of a date for the night. Miranda didn’t have that worry. She did wonder if she would be able to accomplish the unnatural act of soiling herself.

  A student band appeared onstage and set up to perform a few numbers. Miranda recalled having seen them play at a bar. Justin had been with her that night, before he had gone off on that fool’s errand in West Virginia. Miranda mentally applauded with the crowd as the band started their set. She remembered them being good showmen; today certainly wouldn’t be an exception. She glanced at the PSG-1 sniper rifle beside her. Whatever display they put on would hopefully pale in comparison to the firestorm she was ready to unleash.

  Chapter 39

  Sam was glad for the clear skies. Not only would wet weather have put a damper on the festivities, it also would have made it harder to pick out any suspicious persons in the crowd. Rain gear provided wonderful hideaways for all sorts of nasty weapons. Today was ideal for sweaters and light jackets. Still good for concealing handguns, but anything larger would stick out noticeably, as would anyone wearing long or heavy coats.

  Hats were a problem. College kids loved wearing their caps, guys and girls alike. That made faces harder to distinguish. Sam didn’t recall Miranda being a fan of headwear, but it didn’t mean that she’d be unwilling to start now. He decided to focus most on women with new-looking caps, on the assumption that Miranda didn’t have a range of worn items to choose from. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start.

  A student band played covers of current hits. They were overly loud, but mostly on key. With a few more years of development, they might actually be deemed good enough to play larger venues. Purple, pink and blue balloons festooned the stage and danced about above the crowd. One of them popped right behind Sam, making him jump. It would be hard to distinguish gunshots from this location, he realized. He moved further across the green, heading casually towards the area designated for The Reverend’s rally.

  He lifted his chin to greet Arnie, who sidled up next to him. “Anything going, boss man?” the other officer shouted into his ear.

  Sam shook his head and motioned Arnie to follow him. The crowd was getting thick and the pair moved along the side of the campus chapel, away from the people, so that they could hear each other.

  “I don’t think Miranda’s in this crowd,” Sam said.

  “I agree. She knows we’re on the lookout for her. If I was her, I sure wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, but nailing this Reverend guy is a pretty good opportunity.”

  Arnie shrugged. “Maybe. But he shows up at gigs all over the place. Why not pop him somewhere else?”

  Sam considered that. “Good point. Time maybe? Terrain? Miranda worked with us, so she knows how we operate. She’s been a student here, so she knows the turf. And she knows that she won’t be free for very long. If she wants this guy so bad, now is probably the best time to make a play. After all, she went for those other jokers, even knowing they might be ready for her.”

  Arnie shook his head. “Two close calls. I don’t know. I’d be worried about my luck coming in threes.”

  “That scene at the lodge could have been close too. At least one guy got shots off at her.”

  “True.”

  Sam scanned the crowd and the surrounding buildings. “Tell me Arnie, if you had a machine gun at your disposal and wanted to mow down these pricks, where would you set up shop?”

  Arnie considered the buildings, the crowd and the stages. “Well, if the target is that little rally point over there… I’d set up high somewhere. Some place that gives me a view of the whole area, because maybe I don’t know ahead of time where my targets will be. I’m thinking the chapel tower; maybe up in the admin building. Rooftops are possibles, but anybody in a police helicopter or paying close attention would spot me. No, I’m in a bell tower or behind a window. Light machine guns are versatile and can move from point A to point B quickly. So if I have to shift position slightly, no big deal. As long as I can stay in the same building.”

  Sam nodded his agreement. “Get Kevin on the horn. Have him and Smithy take a look through the upper floors of the admin building. How about you and I go check out the chapel?”

  “As long as I don’t have to marry you.”

  Sam slugged his partner hard on the arm.

  #

  Miranda kept an eye on the different law enforcement officials. She didn’t have an accurate count, but she guessed pretty much who was stationed where. Troopers from the Highway Patrol were lining up near the stage; four of them also gathered by the smaller rally point, along with a quartet of uniformed deputies. She guessed that anyone in a suit jacket was undercover; likewise she could identify a few police department windbreakers at strategic locations. She wondered where Sam was in all this. She doubted he was hanging back at the station or confining himself to patrolling the streets. He would want to be in the mix, up close and personal with everyone. It was his style. He kept himself low-key, but he was always involved.

  She spotted him walking towards the chapel, conferring with another officer who she thought was Arnie Freed. Before she could focus in on them, they disappeared alongside the building. She scanned the crowd for more familiar faces. She saw two men in windbreakers pushing their way through the crowd, moving towards the stage. One of them looked very much like Kevin Jones. She smiled. He was always a good man to have around. Tough and reliable. They all were. She missed seeing Hector and Hal, and silently sent up a prayer for their speedy recoveries. Part of her wished that she had been able to take down Eldon, but at least Sam and the others had stepped up to the plate. Everybody needed a hand every now and then. Her mind flitted to Eldon’s hands groping roughly between her legs. Sam had, in a way, been her avenger when it came to Eldon, even if he had been an unknowing one.

  Kevin and the other officer stopped near the stage. The band finished their set and began the process of tearing down their equipment. The main speaker was due to arrive soon, and the crowd thronged closer. The patrolmen and deputies stationed there pushed several spectators back to a safe distance. The main event was closing in; she wondered how much time was left before the show for which she was waiting started.

  Kevin and his partner changed course and moved towards the administration building. Miranda watched them with mild bemusement. This could be interesting, she thought. Maybe there would be an exciting preview of things to come. She patted herself down and checked to make sure that all of her weapons were hot: loaded, round in the chamber and – if they had them – safeties were off. When the b
all dropped, the last thing she wanted to do was have to fumble with different levers and switches. The two officers met a pair of campus policemen and disappeared through the front door. Miranda was pretty sure she knew where they were headed.

  #

  Kevin and Smithy smiled at the receptionist who greeted them. “Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked. She was working overtime this weekend, there to pass out literature in case any of the people visiting Sparta wanted information about the school.

  Kevin introduced himself and the other officer and then produced several photographs. “Have you seen any of these women coming in the building today?”

  The receptionist frowned and shook her head as she flipped through the pictures. Then she stopped, at a digitally enhanced image showing Miranda with blonde hair. “Well, I’m not sure if it was her, but there was a young woman who looked like this person that came in late last night.”

  “Why did she come in here?”

  “Well, I believe she was dropping off some computer equipment. A lot of the staff is upgrading to those huge new monitors. I think she had a couple of them in boxes. Don’t know how that poor girl handled them all by herself.”

  “Do you have any idea where she delivered them? Did she sign a work order, anything like that?” Smithy asked.

  “Well, no actually, she didn’t. I just assumed that she was a student intern or something. A lot of the folks upstairs have student workers pick up those sorts of things.”