Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  Harry realized he had no marketable skills except in the private security area, but if Sheldrake was having problems so were the other security firms, both large and small.

  After three months of no success in the job hunt, Harry and Susan again took stock of their situation. “How long do we beat our heads against the wall?” Harry asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s getting very tiresome.”

  “Our lease on the apartment is up in two months. I think we should make a move then if neither of us has a job.”

  “Where will we go?”

  “A red state, as Phil MacDonald suggested. A place with lower taxes and limited state government. We can buy a small place, but I don’t want to be out in the sticks. Maybe a small city where we can get a job.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” she said. “But it’s also unbelievable being forced to leave our home and…and the fact we have no control over our circumstances.”

  “The world is changing, and for us, the change is not good.”

  “I guess we better do some research. Figure out where to go.”

  “I can narrow down the choices to the seven or so states that do not impose an income tax. Florida is one because Vinny Drake and Bill Shelton went there, and Phil mentioned Nevada and Wyoming, I think.”

  “Why don’t you give him a call and bounce it off him?”

  “Good idea. I wonder if he’s moved out himself by now. I’ll try him in the morning,” he said looking at his watch and noting that it was approaching ten p.m.

  They were watching the ten o’clock news when the phone rang at 10:15. Harry said, “Wonder who that can be at this hour?”

  Although he was used to late night calls when he was in law enforcement, he was not used to them now. And with his oldest daughter Lizzy being in the FBI, her safety was always at the forefront of his mind. He picked up the phone and said hello.

  “Hello, Harry,” said the familiar voice of Phil MacDonald. “Hope it’s not too late to bother you.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Huh?”

  “Susan and I were just talking about calling you, but were concerned it might be too late. Obviously it’s not, and it’s not for us either.”

  “Why did you want to speak to me?”

  Harry briefly explained their situation and then said, “It really is astonishing that you called at this time. It’s almost as if I mentally reached out to you.”

  Phil chuckled and said, “I don’t know about mental telepathy, but I do have an invitation for you.”

  “Oh? For what?”

  “For a weekend seminar in Virginia.”

  “What’s on the agenda?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it appears that an organization is beginning to jell. An organization designed to take back our country from its march into socialism.”

  “A new political party, like the Tea Party?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t even know if they have a name yet. All I know is I have been invited, and I managed to find the names of a few others who have also been invited. There are some powerful people going.”

  “Why me, Phil? I’m certainly not a mover and shaker.”

  “Good question. I received a printed invitation with a hand-written note on the bottom that said, ‘Phil, please bring your friend Harry Cassidy. We need people like him.’”

  “And who signed that invitation?”

  “Chris and the Committee.”

  “Chris who?”

  “Christopher Steadman and I don’t know much at all about him. It’s at the Crystal City Marriott for the weekend – three nights starting Friday.”

  “So, two full days of meetings and we’re out of there Monday morning?”

  “Yeah, so I’ll see you there?”

  “Why not? I have nothing better to do and D.C. is so nice this time of year with the cherry blossoms in bloom.”

  Susan had been listening to Harry’s side of the telephone conversation and when he hung up she said, “What was that all about? Are you going somewhere?”

  “I’m going to D.C. for the weekend – a two-day seminar.”

  “About what?”

  “I have no idea. Something about taking back the country.”

  “Intriguing, isn’t it? Somewhat mysterious.”

  “Yes, but I’m actually looking forward to it. Maybe someone is stepping up to the plate.”

  “And if it’s a bust you can always walk among the cherry trees. Remember when we did that some years ago?”

  “I sure do,” he said, “but at least this time there will be no terrorists in sight.”

  * * *

  Harry drove at a leisurely pace on Friday morning toward Washington enjoying the sunny late March weather and arrived in the Crystal City suburb at three in the afternoon. Upon check-in at the Marriott, the reservation clerk informed him that his room and parking charges “had been taken care of.” He then handed him an envelope addressed to Mr. Harold Cassidy and wished him a pleasant stay. Before heading to his room Harry asked the clerk if Mr. MacDonald had checked in yet. The clerk examined his computer monitor and said he had not. “Please ask him to call me in my room when he arrives,” Harry said.

  Before unpacking Harry opened the envelope and removed a single sheet of paper on which was printed, Welcome to our seminar, Mr. Cassidy. A complimentary breakfast will be served in the Marigold room at eight a.m. A bus will leave from outside the west entrance at 9:15 a.m. for a short drive to the Greenwood Conference Center in Fairfax where our seminar will begin at 10:00 a.m. Lunch will be served at 1:00 p.m. and the formal sessions will end at 5:00 p.m. followed by a cocktail reception. The bus will leave to return to your hotel at 6:30 p.m. where you will be free for the evening. We are all looking forward to a productive meeting. The Committee.

  Not much information there he thought as he continued unpacking. Guess he’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what was on the agenda.

  When Harry had put everything away it was only four o’clock and Phil MacDonald had not called. He decided to take Susan’s advice and take a stroll in the Tidal Basin. Harry had recently worked in D.C. for Homeland Security, and he was still familiar with the Metro system. A subway station was right beneath his hotel in a vast underground shopping complex. He took a Yellow train three stops, and then switched to a Blue train for two more stops, getting off at the Federal Triangle station.

  A short walk brought him to the Tidal Basin where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom on this warm day in late March. After circumnavigating the entire area he sat on a park bench thoroughly enjoying the fresh air, beautiful foliage and gentle warmth, but all the time wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  He was back in the hotel lobby a few minutes before six where he immediately spotted Phil waving to him from the bar. Harry walked over and sat next to him as Phil motioned for the bartender. After Harry’s scotch on the rocks arrived they clinked glasses and Phil said, “To America, may she survive.”

  “Phil, what more can you tell me about this meeting? Who are these guys – the Committee?”

  “I really don’t know, but I suppose we’ll both find out tomorrow. Before I got the invitation, I received a call from Chris Steadman – I’ve never met him in person – and he sort of recruited me to join his group.”

  “The Committee?”

  “No, I think the Committee is just a few people, maybe the ones who formed the group. Anyway I found that Chris and I think the same about what is going on in the country. And I believe he is going to propose a solution.”

  “And how did I get to be invited? Did you arrange that?”

  “No, and Chris didn’t mention you during our phone conversation. But here’s his invite – see for yourself.”

  Phil handed his invitation to Harry who read the hand-written note that Phil had read to him over the phone. “What does he mean, people like me?”

  “Maybe you should ask him tomorrow,” Phil said with a smile.

  “Is
this meeting going to be a big rally to solicit money from us?”

  “I don’t think so. I already contributed a modest amount and I hope to be able to contribute a lot more based on what I hear in the next two days.”

  “I assume that you’re hoping to hear these guys have a practical, workable solution to taking back America?”

  “Yes, I’m hoping very much to hear that. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. I most certainly am.”

  They decided to eat a light supper in the hotel’s snack bar – a burger and one beer – and hit the sack early. Both were tired from their drives to Washington and they had an early wake-up call. “I just realized something,” Harry said. “We should have driven down together. How stupid of us to take two cars.”

  “I thought of that, but I’m not going back to New York right away. I’m flying from here to Texas to check out a few properties.”

  “You’re really serious about this move then?”

  “Oh yes, and you should be thinking about it, too.”

  When Harry returned to his room, he noticed an envelope addressed to him on the floor just inside the door. He took out the single sheet of paper and read –

  To all attendees at our two-day conference. This is an addendum to our welcome message. You are asked to not bring any electronic devices such as cameras, recorders cell phones, tablets and computers of any kind into the conference room. You are also asked to not bring weapons of any kind – knives, Mace, firearms (even if licensed to carry) – into the conference room. Sufficient secure lockers will be available on the premises for storing these items. Thank you. The Committee.

  Cloak and dagger stuff. The mystery deepens.

  PART TWO

  THE MINUTEMEN

  Chapter Seven

  Harry scanned the people entering the bus along with him and Phil. His long police experience enabled him to classify several of them – a few definite military, two college professors, three or four businessmen and women. Phil was watching him as he looked them over. He nudged him as they sat down and whispered, “Are you profiling people, Officer Cassidy? That’s illegal, you know.”

  “Yeah, if I was still Officer Cassidy it would be, but I’m not, my friend.”

  “Detect any terrorists?”

  “Other than you?” he said laughing. “No.”

  “I expected more people. There’s only twenty or so on this bus.”

  “Maybe there are more buses from other hotels.”

  Harry was right as one bus was already parked at the conference center and one more was pulling in after theirs. They got off and followed the passengers from the first bus into the lobby area and into an adjacent locker room where a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman politely asked them to select a locker. She then told them to be sure to place all those items mentioned in their seminar notification letters inside, make sure the locker was securely closed and locked, and to take the key with them. After they complied they were directed to a large conference room, but first had to pass through a sophisticated scanning portal which beeped quite often as several attendees were forced to give up cell phones, mini recorders and the like that they inadvertently forgot to put in their lockers the first time.

  Harry always carried his licensed weapon, a Glock .40 caliber semiautomatic. It was as much a part of his attire as was his belt and wallet, but he put it in his locker with his cell phone, and he was comfortable that it would be safe there until he returned to retrieve it.

  The conference room was arranged pretty much as most were for all the meetings and conferences Harry had attended during his long law enforcement career. The locker room lady, who had followed the group into the room announced, “Please sit anywhere you choose and help yourself to coffee and pastries.”

  There were two rows of tables in the room with a center row between them. Each table sat four persons and Harry and Phil chose the third table from the front leaving five tables behind them. Another quick mental calculation put the maximum number of attendees at sixty-four. As they took their seats Harry noticed one thing that seemed to be missing – they had not been given name tags. There were none to pick up at the entrance door and no register to sign in. Other than that, the normal pitchers of ice water, glasses, bowls of hard candy, scratch pads, and ballpoint pens appeared on the tables at regular intervals.

  When they were all seated, a man got up from near the back of the room and strode to the podium. Marched would be a better word. If this guy wasn’t military – probably a marine – nobody was. Harry smiled as the man spoke, “My name is James O’Grady, Colonel, United States Marine Corps, retired. Welcome to our seminar.”

  He stepped away from the microphone and said, “Can everyone hear me without the microphone? Will those in the last row raise their hand if they can hear me?”

  Harry did not have to turn around to know that those hands in the back were raised high. He had never met a Marine Corps officer, or NCO, that needed a microphone.

  “Good,” he said. “Let me get right to the point. We have asked you here to help us save our great country from what seems to be an unstoppable slide toward a socialist state, a state where the government will totally control our lives, our fortunes, and our children. We are already well on our way there with government-controlled health insurance, welfare, food stamps, and seemingly perpetual unemployment insurance deliberately designed to make dependent slaves of our citizens.”

  Someone raised a hand and the Colonel said, “I know there will be many questions, but please hold off until we finish. Hopefully, your questions will be answered as I and the other speakers proceed. If not, I assure you there will be ample time to answer all of them. We do not plan to speak at you all the time, or even most of the time. We plan to mingle with you and address all your concerns.”

  “Impressive man,” Phil whispered as O’Grady began to move around the room.

  “You’re probably wondering who I mean by we. Let me tell you. I mean five people – the Committee. I am one of those people and my purpose for our organization is to address things military – the uniformed services and the National Guard. By address I mean win them over to our way of thinking, to our cause and to our future actions. This does not mean I am trying to solicit our military forces to use their formidable weapons to destroy our enemies – no, that will not be necessary. What we desire is fast approval of our mission, so that a socialistic government that tries to employ them against us will not be successful.

  “I have served our nation for over thirty years in units that have allowed me to interact with some of our highest ranking officers in command today – hell, I’ve trained some of them myself – and I can say with some confidence that they are on our side, but unfortunately they are now a minority. That is all I have to say for now. We want all the members of the Committee to have their say before we break for lunch. Oh, one last thing. Perhaps you noticed that identification name tags were not distributed. That was purposeful to preserve anonymity. If you wish to tell others who you are as we interact over the next couple of days, that is strictly up to you.”

  O’Grady retreated to a rear table and another man, a few years younger, took his place at the podium. He was dressed exactly as O’Grady was – light-gray slacks, cornflower-blue button down shirt open at the collar, and a burgundy blazer with a white carnation in the lapel. He took a plastic ID tag from his pocket and hung it on his jacket. “This ID tag will be worn by the Committee members, so you can identify our name and our specialties,” he said. “Mine is business, and my name is Dennis Nolan. My remarks will describe the current business climate and what I believe will occur in the future if things continue as they are.”

  “Totally in the toilet,” Phil whispered.

  Nolan went on for the next fifteen minutes painting a dire picture of the business community as it exists now – hardly any products except automobiles now manufactured in the U.S., more and more jobs going overseas, and higher trade imbalances. And there was no turnaro
und anticipated in the future. “We will be a service economy dominated by the unions,” he said, “with the biggest employer being the Federal Government. If you spend some time around D.C. and its suburbs you will notice a vibrant economy with thriving businesses and the lowest unemployment rate, below 4%, in the country. Why? Because they are all working for Uncle Sam and have big salaries and government benefits – all paid for by you and me.

  “Let me leave you with one thought, one sentence for which I cannot take credit, but which succinctly sums up our nation’s situation: When half the people do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and the other half then realizes it does no good to work because someone else is going to get the fruits of their labor, that is the beginning of the end of our nation. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen”

  Nolan then declared a short coffee break and returned to his table accompanied by substantial applause, but no smiling faces. Harry said, “Boy, he really cheered me up.”

  “But I can attest he told it like it really is,” Phil said.

  “At least Colonel O’Grady gave a somewhat positive spin on his relations with the military.” “Yes, but it’s obvious what they are doing – painting a very depressing picture of where we are, and where we are heading. They then will propose their solutions, but a second American revolution cannot be the answer.”

  “Why not?”

  Phil smiled and said, “Let’s see if the Committee answers that question before I do.”