“What urgent message is awaiting me now?” Ben tossed the question out.
“Cecil Jefferys, Chief,” Cooper said.
His long-time friend—and SUSA’s first black President—didn’t engage in much long range chitchat, so Ben knew the call must be important.
In the communications room, Ben took the mike and said, “Go, Cec.”
“Ben, things are turning chaotic over here in a hurry.” Cecil’s voice came through as calm as always. “Outside our borders, that is. Blanton’s government is shaky. Real shaky.”
“Could we prop him up?”
“Yes—if he’d ask. But he hasn’t.”
“I’ll call him and volunteer our help. How many battalions can you let him have for domestic use?”
“Four with no sweat or strain. We’ve got a new cycle coming out of boot right now. But I’m not so sure it’s troops he needs. It’s organization and revamping of his administration, top to bottom.”
“He’s not going to take the hard line, Cec.”
“Then he’s fucked, Ben—hard. There simply is no other way to put it.”
“You’ve got to find a way to help him, Cec. If his government crumbled, we’d have to go in and take over. That would spread us too thin; and besides, I don’t want to have to listen to all those goddamn liberals pissing and moaning twenty-four hours a day. It’s bad enough now. As long as Blanton is in power, they’ll stay with him . . . even though he has leaned a bit more to the right than they care for.”
“This Billy Smithson is going to be a problem, Ben.”
Everything was on scramble so the men were speaking their minds. Ben’s reply was prompt. “If he doesn’t fall in line with us, Cec, we can send K-Teams in to ice him.”
“That’s pretty extreme, Ben.”
“Cec, I can’t have Blanton’s liberals taking constant potshots at me, Bottger at my front and Smith-son at my back. Smithson is either going to fall in line with me or he’s going to grab six feet of earth. That’s it.”
“He would never agree to talk to me, Ben. He thinks all black people are ignorant and savage. In case you haven’t noticed lately, I am of a somewhat darker hue.”
Ben laughed for a moment—keyed the mike. “Then that makes him either a fool, a dangerous crackpot, or a man who is badly misinformed. Let me make one more attempt to talk to the man. In case that fails, you get teams ready to go in and take him out.”
“All right, Ben. Now then, what about all these people who are massing at our borders demanding to be let in?”
Ben hesitated for a few seconds. “Cec, you run the SUSA. What are your thoughts on the matter?”
Cecil was quick in replying. “If they are qualified to work at the jobs we have open, let those people in. The others stay out.”
“It’s your call, Cec. You know I’ll back you in whatever decision you opt to make.”
“I just made it.”
“Keep in touch.”
“That’s affirmative. Luck to you, Ben.”
“Eagle out.”
Ben walked out of the room and sat on the steps for a time, playing with Smoot. After a few moments, he looked up at Corrie. “Have some people take Smoot back to Thermopolis. Get her out of harm’s way. I think Bottger is through waiting and will start his push very soon.”
Ben let Smoot lick his ear for a moment, and then Corrie gently pulled the husky away and led her off to Lt. Bonelli’s people, who waited a few yards off. Ben was constantly surrounded by Rebels, twenty-four hours a day.
When Corrie returned, Ben said, “Have all civilians evac’d, Corrie. Starting immediately. Radio all batt coms to go to high alert. I think this dance is just about to start.”
THREE
Bruno waited just one more day before turning his rabid hyenas loose on the Rebels. From Liege in the north to Nice in the south, the fanatical men and women of Bottger’s Minority Eradication Forces slammed into Rebel-held lines. The Rebels held because they had had enough time to get ready; but there was no way they were going to hold for very long, for this time, Bottger was pulling out all the stops.
“Start blowing the major bridges,” Ben ordered reluctantly. “They can be rebuilt. But if we lose ground, chances are we’ll never retake it.”
Beginning moments after Ben issued the orders, on a wavy line running north to south for hundreds of kilometers, the Rebels began blowing major bridges and the MEF was powerless to stop them.
“Exactly what I thought he’d do,” Bruno said with a strange smile.
“He’s playing right into our hands,” one of Bruno’s senior officers said.
“Yes,” Bruno said, and then joined all his staff officers in a good laugh.
For the moment, Bruno and his MEF appeared to be stopped cold.
“They won’t be for long,” Ben said, taking off his reading glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. He had been scanning maps for hours. “But he’s up to something and I don’t know what it is.”
“The Chinese have a saying, Chief,” Beth said. “That one should only rub one’s eyes with one’s elbows.”
“Thank you, Beth. I shall treasure that for ever and ever.”
“Please do,” Beth replied sweetly, and returned to her reading.
Bottger’s forces were probing at more than thirty locations, looking for just one weak spot, and Ben knew the MEF would find it sooner or later. It would not be because of any laxness on the part of his people or those resistance forces aligned with him. It would come because of vastly superior numbers.
Numerically, Ben needed about four more divisions to come close to evening out the odds. He also knew he might as well wish for the moon and the stars.
He picked up his reading glasses and slipped them on, looking down at the map in front of him. Irritated, he shoved the map away. What was the point of it? The map would not change and neither would the numbers of troops lined up on the east side of the line. What the hell was Bottger up to? Why wasn’t he infiltrating troops across the line? Why had he suddenly stopped?
Right now, it was a standoff; quiet . . . all quiet on the western front, Ben thought with grim humor. But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He picked up another report and read it again. His chief of intelligence, Mike Richards, had finally gotten a few people into North, Central, and South Africa. They reported widespread destruction, chaos, tribal warfare, a breakdown in civilized behavior, and everything else Ben had felt they would find. But no sign that Bottger had contaminated any water supply with his serum or vaccine or whatever the hell it was. But then, no one could know for sure because the continent was so vast.
“Casualty figures are in,” Corrie called from across the room. Ben looked at her and waited. “Light on our side. But Bottger’s people really took a beating because of those crazy suicide charges. Prisoners taken confirm that Bottger has more people in reserve than we do on the front lines.”
“I think I know what Bottger is up to, and we’ve got to have some help,” Ben said. “That’s all there is to it. We’ve got to beat him over here. Corrie, get President Blanton on the horn. Tell him I’m going to make a deal with Billy Smithson: He can have his all-white state if he’ll agree to send me twenty-five thousand men.”
“Blanton will hit the ceiling,” Corrie said.
Ben shook his head. “I can’t help that. Blanton is going to have to face reality. We can’t win this fight without some additional troops. He can either free up his existing army under the terms I laid out several weeks ago and get them the hell over here or bend to Billy Smithson and we’ll use his men. Those are the only two choices he’s got if he wants Bottger stopped. If he can’t see that, then he’s not as smart as I think he is.”
“It’s late in the States.”
“Wake him up.”
Blanton was furious at Ben’s suggestion. “There is no way in hell I will agree to giving that damned racist his own state, General Raines. Absolutely not.”
“Then Bottger is event
ually going to force us back to the sea in retreat and he’ll win over here, Homer. And the instant I set foot on American soil, I will take my Rebels and run your ass all the way to the North Pole.”
“Are you threatening me, Raines?”
“Goddamn right I am, Homer.”
“Defeat is not that distasteful if the rights of a free people are the basis for that defeat. I—”
“You’re an idiot,” Ben said. “I’ve shaken hands with the devil a dozen times as a means to an end. Goddamnit, Homer, can’t you get it through your thick liberal skull that Bottger intends to rule the world? He must be defeated over here, on this continent. I think I know the reason he delayed so long in attacking us, and why he suddenly stopped. He just might be buying time in order to perfect that drug. So that means we’ve got to take the offensive and take it damn quick. You either make the deal with Billy Smithson, or I will. It’s up to you.”
“You don’t have the authority to do that, Raines.”
“You wanna bet?”
Blanton called for a meeting with his senior advisors and selected senators and representatives. A stranger gathering could only be found on the back lot of a carnival, where the geek shows are held.
“That dirty, rotten, honky, racist, right-wing, Republican bastard!” Rita Rivers said.
“I always knew he was a closet Klansman!” V.P. Harriet Hooter bellowed.
After the coffee cups stopped rattling, Representative Fox reminded the President, “I asked you years ago to temporarily suspend the Constitution and put all conservatives in prison where we could keep an eye on them.”
“To arms!” Representative Immaculate Crapums shouted. “Invade Missouri and defeat the mongrel hordes.”
“Where did we put all the arms we seized from the law-abiding taxpayers?” Senator Tutwilder asked.
“We stored them,” I. M. Holey said. “In case we had to use them someday to defeat the Republicans.”
“Where did we store them?”
“Doesn’t make any difference. The Rebels stole them all years ago.”
“Thieves and brigands!” Senator Benedict hollered. And he was a man who knew something about being a thief.
“Right on!” Senator Arnold shouted. And he was a man who knew something about being a brigand.
President Blanton listened silently. And once again, he wondered, for the umpteenth time, how and, more importantly, why in the hell he had ever openly supported and actually gone on the campaign trail for this pack of nitwits.
Blanton suddenly slammed his hand down on the table. “Shut up!” he shouted. “Goddamnit, shut up! I’m tired of this nonsense.” The room stilled, became hushed. Stunned faces and shocked eyes turned to him. Blanton pointed a finger at the person on his left, then pointed at each person present until he had worked around the long table. “We have two choices,” he enunciated carefully. “And only two choices. We must accept one of them. And you all know what the two choices are. Now stop this damn silly bickering and make up your minds. Or by God I’ll do it for you.” He stood up. “You have fifteen minutes to decide. Fifteen minutes,” he repeated grimly.
When the door closed behind him, Rita Rivers said, “If we allow this Smithson racist son of a bitch his all-white state, while he sends half his army over to help that other racist son of bitch Raines, we might be able to send the army into Missouri and wipe him out.”
“Good thinking, Rita!” Immaculate Crapums said.
“Outstanding!” Harriet Hooter hollered.
The door opened and President Blanton stuck his head in. “Oh,” he offered sweetly, “in case you’re thinking of invading Missouri, put it out of your minds. The army answers solely to me on this one. We’ve already agreed on that.” He smiled. “Just thought you’d like to know.” He closed the door.
“Shit!” Hooter said.
“I think,” Representative I. M. Holey said solemnly, “it is time for us to consider getting rid of Homer Blanton.”
“Billy Smithson on the horn, Chief,” Corrie said, getting up so Ben could sit down at the table.
“Mr. Smithson. This is Ben Raines.”
“General,” Billy said from thousands of miles away. There was a cautious note in his voice. “Are you forewarning me about some invasion on your part?”
“No. I am telling you that I’ve cut a deal with President Blanton. You can have your all-white state; but in return, you are to send me twenty-five thousand of your best people to help me defeat Bruno Bottger. No doubt you are familiar with the name.”
There was a long moment of silence before Smith-son spoke. “What’s the trick, General?”
“No trick, Billy. Blanton didn’t want to tell you himself because I think it hurt his mouth to agree to it.”
“Are you on the level, General?”
“On the level, Billy. Papers are being drawn up as we speak allowing Missouri to secede from the Union and become an independent nation if that is what you truly want and if you agree to the terms.”
“Free of niggers?”
Ben sighed. “Yes, Billy. Free of black people.”
“There has to be a catch to this. There must be. Those liberals traitors in Charleston would never agree to something like this.”
“The only catch is that a certain percentage of those men and women you send over here to help me won’t be returning. When you make up your mind about this offer, and it had better be damn quick, you level with your people. Lay it straight on the line with them.”
“How much time do I have, General?”
“Twenty-four hours, Billy. No extensions. After that, the deal is off and when I get back to the States, then you deal with me and my Rebels.”
“Is that supposed to strike fear in my heart and cause my knees to tremble, General Raines?”
“Billy, I don’t care if it gives you diarrhea. I’ll be waiting for your answer.”
“You’ll have it, General.”
“Raines out.”
“If he agrees, how are you going to keep our people and his people separated?” Cooper asked.
“One of us to the north, the other to the south, and the resistance between us.”
“Hell of a way to have to fight a war, Raines.” Dr. Lamar Chase spoke from the doorway.
Ben turned to look at the chief of medicine and his long-time friend. “You heard the conversation with Billy Smithson?”
“Yes. I seem to recall hearing his type before. Have you considered that once over here, he just might join Bruno Bottger and turn on you?”
“Oh, yes. But I’m betting that he won’t.”
“And betting the lives of a lot of Rebels.”
“Yes, I know that, too. But tell me, what other choices did I have?”
Chase shook his head. “None, Ben. None at all. That’s why I’m glad it’s you having to make these decisions.”
To Corrie Ben said, “Get me the President, please.”
“Which one, Chief? Cecil or Homer?”
Ben stared at her and caught the twinkle in her eyes. The Rebels had that amazing ability to find humor under the most trying of circumstances. “Try Charleston, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once he had Blanton on the horn, Ben said, “I spoke to the man, Homer, and gave him twenty-four hours to reach a decision.”
“What was his initial reaction, Ben?”
“Disbelief. He thinks you must have some trick up your sleeve.”
“I wish I did, Ben.”
“I know, Homer. But what else could we do?”
“I guess nothing, Ben. But with the exception of the army, I’m standing alone in this one.”
“You watch yourself, Homer. And I mean be very, very careful.”
A moment’s pause. “I know that sometimes the people I have surrounded myself with act . . . ah, a bit strange in your eyes, Ben, but I cannot believe they would harm me.”
“Do you recall an article I wrote before the Great War, Homer, in which I wrote that the
greatest danger facing the United States was liberal democrats?”
“Yes. I recall it.”
“You just keep that in mind, Homer. Do you want me to bump President Jefferys and have him send some people up.”
Another long pause. “I . . . think not, Ben. But thank you for the offer.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I have to trust those around me.”
“He’s making a mistake, Ben,” Chase said before Ben could key the mike. “A very grave mistake.”
“I know it. But I can’t force help on him.” He opened the mic. “All right, Homer. I’ll keep you briefed.”
Cassie Phillips, one of the few reporters that Ben would allow to travel with the Rebels, walked into the room. Ben and Cassie had grown to both like and respect each other over the weeks since they’d met and often shared a bed. There was no love between them, but a great deal of like; and oftentimes that emotion is much more important than love.
“Cassie, get Nils and Frank, will you? I have something to tell you all.”
Cassie Phillips, Nils Wilson, and Frank Service were the only three reporters that Ben had found on the continent that he trusted to tell the truth without slanting the story or pissing and moaning and sobbing about punks and street shit who got blown away while committing criminal acts, and they usually traveled with Ben’s first batt. Since they were almost always right in the thick of things, they were the first to get the stories and the releases, which did not make them terribly popular with other reporters; but if that bothered any of the three, they did not show it.
Ben told them about the agreement in the works with Billy Smithson. “I’ll ask you to sit on the story until he gives us his answer, one way or the other.”
The three agreed, as Ben had known they would.
“What now, General?” Nils asked.
“Now we wait.”
FOUR
Billy Smithson gave Ben his answer less than six hours after Ben spoke with him.
“All right, General. You’re on the level.”
And that told Ben that Smithson had people planted all over the place—close to Blanton for sure and probably in Ben’s own intelligence system.
Betrayal in the Ashes Page 3