by Henry Hack
“No, not surprising at all,” Harry said as Anne Marie returned with a large tray of assorted cheeses, crackers, olives, and sliced meats, and asked what type of cocktail they wanted.
They chatted a while over their drinks and snacks and then a woman, who was obviously the cook, came into the parlor and announced, “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
As they moved to the dining room the Reverend Phineas said, “Tell me Harry, what brings you and your lovely wife out to the wilds of Wyoming? A vacation?”
“Yes, Reverend. A vacation. A very long vacation, since we now temporarily reside on the outskirts of Cody.”
Alton stopped short and said, “Now it’s you who have truly surprised me. This will be an interesting evening indeed.”
The Cassidy’s and the Phineas’s talked until well after eleven o’clock that evening, stopping only after Anne Marie mentioned that her husband had an eight o’clock service to preach in the morning. As they prepared to leave Harry said, “Oh, one really important thing. Can you tell us where there is a good Italian restaurant around here?”
Anne Marie laughed and said, “Being one-quarter Italian, and assuming you mean New York quality, the short answer is, there aren’t any.”
Harry groaned and said, “I’ll never get Nick and Terry to come out here.”
“However, there are two that almost measure up. Antonio’s on West Elm Street and Mama’s on Fourth Avenue.”
“My mother told me never to eat in a place called Mama’s,” Harry said.
“This one is the exception,” Alton said. “Just don’t go to Mario’s, that’s pretty awful.”
“We never will…again,” Susan said clutching her neck in both her hands.
Just as they were leaving Alton whispered to Harry, “Call me tomorrow afternoon. Say about three o’clock?”
“Will do, and thank you again for a wonderful evening.”
* * *
Harry made the call at the time requested and Phineas got right to the point. “Harry, I’d like to set up a meeting between you and Christopher Steadman. I believe your old friend Phil MacDonald may have already suggested it.”
“Yes he did,” not mentioning that he was now aware of Chris’s real name.
“What’s good for your schedule?”
“I don’t have a schedule anymore. I’m among the unemployed for the foreseeable future.”
“I already know that Wednesday is good for Chris. Shall we say around two in the afternoon?”
“That’s fine with me.”
“Good, we’ll meet in my office and then I’ll disappear and let you two hash things out.”
“See you then, Reverend.”
When Harry told Susan of the planned meeting she said, “Wonder why Phil wants you two to get together?”
“I’ll find out in a few days, but Chris a/k/a Jonathan Bradley, has some ‘splaining to do. I don’t like being lied to.”
“He lied to everyone, right?”
“Yes.”
“So don’t get so bent. It wasn’t personal.”
Harry smiled, “Good advice, my dear, as always. That’s why I keep you around.”
“And because you love me?”
“Of course, Susan. That above of all.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
True to his word, the Reverend Phineas left the two former adversaries alone in his study after a brief re-introduction. They sat across from each other in comfortable, stuffed leather chairs and Harry opened the discussion by saying, “The Reverend still thinks your name is Christopher Steadman, Mr. Jonathan Bradley.”
“No, he knows my real name, but I guess he didn’t realize you did also.”
“You really had me and a lot of the others fooled with your phony story of your family business…”
“That was real, Harry. Every bit of it, except the names and locations. All that stuff happened to my mom and dad and brothers and sister. I had to change those names. I mean, I’m addressing a lot of unknown, potential supporters of the Minutemen. Who knew who they really were? An FBI agent who was spying?”
“Or an ex-cop like me? Why did you want to trust me?”
“Phil MacDonald vouched for you, and I wanted you on our side. Wanted you very badly. I told you that more than once. I wanted you to rally the law enforcement community to our cause, but you went the other way and opposed us.”
“As you are aware, my daughter was injured, and a lot of good law enforcement personnel died in your attack on Cardinal Cooke High School – including two valued members of the Task Force. That’s why I went the other way.”
“I told you in my email we did not sanction that. The Brothers acted on their own.”
“Bullshit! You were in the Marines. You know how the chain of command works. You know you were ultimately responsible. Don’t try to cop out on me, Bradley. Don’t you dare.”
Jonathan hung his head for a long twenty seconds before looking up at Harry and saying, “You’re right, of course. I knew it then, and I know it now. I just find it so difficult to reconcile that massacre with my intentions. I wish it never happened. We were so close to winning until those nuts blew it all to pieces. If we had gotten those four politicians at a later date we would have won that election hands down. They were on the cusp of folding.”
“I agree. I would have stayed on the sidelines and rejoiced in the Minutemen’s victory to preserve America. It just proves how events and history can suffer monumental changes based on one simple bad decision.”
“Is your daughter fully recovered?”
“Yes, and back on the job.”
“That’s great news. Have we gotten all the bad stuff out of the way?”
“Mostly.”
“Good. There’s a pot of coffee there on the sideboard. I could use a cup. Can I get you one, too?”
“Sure, milk no sugar.”
As Bradley prepared the coffee, Harry took the moment to now appraise the differences in him compared to the Christopher Steadman he first met less than two years ago. A full beard, more than half gray, was the obvious change from the close-cropped one of then, but he was also leaner and more gray than brown appeared in his Marine haircut. And the eyes – still clear, piercing, intense, but a little sadder and wiser it seemed.
Jonathan handed the coffee to Harry and said, “Ironically, the way things turned out, my fear of you was unjustified. You didn’t defeat us. Law enforcement didn’t defeat us. We defeated ourselves. And we were so close to victory.”
“I never understood why you were so afraid of me in the first place.”
“Your reputation in law enforcement and in fighting the terrorists of OBL-911 and the Romens was well-deserved. Where else would they turn to find the top guy to take down the Minutemen? And after the massacre, when you joined the forces against me, all my fears returned – my vision of our final confrontation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ever read No Country for Old Men? Or seen the movie?”
“Sure, both. Great story.”
“The way the story was swinging back and forth between the old time sheriff and the bad guy with all the modern fire power, it seemed for certain that there would be a final confrontation between the two – a showdown between pure good and pure evil.”
“But it never happened, did it?”
“No, and I was disappointed. That bastard played by Javier Bardem deserved to be finally taken out by old Tommy Lee Jones.”
“Yes he did, but that’s why I believe the author, Cormac McCarthy, didn’t allow that confrontation to happen.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It would be a total dishonest cop-out. Based on what had gone on in the story, Tommy Lee could never have honestly won the battle against this young sociopathic killer. So McCarthy avoided killing the good sheriff and allowed him to ride his horse into his retirement. At least that’s my interpretation. I really can’t speak for the author.”
“And he le
t pure evil live to continue his murderous ways?”
“Yes, it’s the way of the world now, isn’t it? And although he let the sheriff live, McCarthy left no doubt that the old ways, the ways of the lone western county sheriff riding his horse and packing a six-shooter, were now gone forever.”
“I never saw it that way, but now that you spelled it out, I see what you mean. Old Tommy Lee Jones and the last of his kind, riding into history, slowly fading into the twilight.”
“So you were afraid that old Hopalong Cassidy was going to take you out? Mano-a-Mano, or some Hollywood crap like that?”
Jonathan grinned and said, “Yeah, something like that.”
Harry smiled back and said, “I’m not as old as Sherriff Tommy Lee Jones, although I may be getting ready to ride off into the sunset. And you, young man, are not pure evil.”
“I’m very happy to hear you say that, because I need you now. I need you more than ever.”
“For what?”
“To take back America.”
“In case you missed recent current events, and according to Phil MacDonald, we have at least twenty years of this regime to contend with before it self-destructs or is taken over by a foreign power. The bad guys are securely in control for a long time.”
“When was the last time you spoke with Phil?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Well, I spoke with him last night. Things have changed for the better. The situation may not be so desperate after all.”
“I’m all ears, Jonathan.”
“How about in a couple of days? I want my Committee and the reverend in on this, and we can get Phil from Canada on a secure phone line.”
“Set it up, and let me know. I’ve retired and ridden off into lazy land. I’ve got all the time in the world on my hands.”
* * *
Three days later they gathered with the Reverend Phineas in his study and Harry, shocked that they all showed up in person and not on a conference call, learned the true identities of all the Committee members. Of course he already knew that Colonel O’Grady’s real name was Colonel Kevin Connelly, and he now learned that economics whiz Dennis Nolan was William Lange, history professor Nick Santucci was Thomas Porlamis, and Zachary Sampson was the real name of social scientist Charles Knorland.
They each re-introduced themselves with their real names and spoke briefly of their backgrounds, which were the same as under their pseudonyms, with changes in location of residence and employment deemed necessary at the time. When they finished Jonathan said, “While all our Committee members are important, the most important – and critical – one at this time is Colonel Connelly. Kevin, if you would?”
“From a military perspective, things have changed dramatically since that election day only five months ago. I was unable to muster a challenge to the entrenched military brass, as you know. They were all screened for their loyalty to the liberals in power. That has changed now.”
“You mean they changed their thinking?” Harry asked.
“Some of them, but a lot of them have been forced into retirement. In order to help pay for their grand socialist experiment the military has been pared down – quietly pared down – to the lowest levels in modern times.”
“Can we defend ourselves if attacked?” Professor Porlamis asked.
“No, but we won’t have to. No one will attack us. It is not necessary. ”
“What about Russia?” Sampson asked. “They already annexed Crimea and the Ukraine.”
“Since we have zero troops left in Europe, Russia will be easily successful in re-constituting the territory of the former Soviet Union. Then they will stop and fortify their borders against the encroachment of Islam, ceding all of Western Europe to the new Caliphate.”
“And China?” Harry asked.
Connelly smiled, “Ah, China. Let’s get Phil MacDonald on the conference phone and he will tell us all about China.”
* * *
Phil greeted them with a hearty, “Hello my fellow patriots. Are we ready to take back America?”
They all shouted back a loud, “Yes!” with the exception of Harry who said, “How?”
“My friend Hopalong Cassidy has some doubts, I see.”
“Phil, you know I would do anything to change things, but even you said this regime had to run its course. Up to thirty years you said, if I remember correctly.”
“You remember correctly, but things have drastically changed. Now I believe four or five years may be more accurate.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Jonathan said. “Please bring Harry up-to-date on the situation and add anything new that we don’t know yet.”
“Sure. While you guys have been twiddling your thumbs, I and my moneyed friends in Canada and elsewhere have been meeting, and planning, and plotting. And so has President Nelson and his socialist buddies in congress. The constitutional convention begins in two weeks, and among other changes, the 22nd Amendment will be repealed. This means if Nelson wins re-election it will not necessarily be his last term in office.”
“A dictator for as long as he lives,” Connelly said.
“And when that amendment is repealed, he will magnanimously revoke martial law.”
“He won’t need it then,” Reverend Phineas said. “A rather bleak picture, it seems.”
“Yes, but not for long. What will bring them down is the age-old root of all evil – money.”
“Money?” Harry said. “I don’t get it.”
“Good choice of words,” Phil said. “They don’t get it either. The government is going broke. The national debt is approaching thirty trillion dollars and the world, especially China, will not stand for it much longer.”
“Please explain,” Connelly said.
“I’ll let our resident economic expert, Mr. Lange do that. I’m sure you will be enlightened. Bill, if you would?”
“Phil and his fellow ex-patriots have passed on the secret plans of the upcoming currency conversion to China and other select countries. They realize that their U.S. Treasury bonds are worth less and less every day that America keeps on its spending spree. And they know that the conversion will make them worth even less – much less. And when that goes into effect China, and other nations, will demand payment of its U.S. bond holdings, forcing the U.S. to print more dollars to pay for the bond redemption. “
“But won’t that drive down the value of the dollar even more?” Tom Porlamis asked.
“Yes, but China will use these dollars to buy and stockpile oil. Remember, oil is traded in dollars. This will severely hurt the U.S. economy and when China and the world decides the dollar is no longer the reserve currency, no one will want it, and an American will need a wheel barrow full to buy a loaf of bread.”
“When bread costs a million bucks a loaf,” Connelly said, “there will be a lot of unhappy people around.”
“Maybe unhappy to the point of revolution?” Harry asked.
“I hope so. Get ready my friends. Kevin, work your magic with the military. I know they may be ready to support us at the critical time – if necessary. Jonathan, re-constitute the Minutemen. Harry, get Kobak and Carson and other high-ranking law enforcement people on board. It’s time to prepare to take back our country!”
“Are you going to run for President?” Harry asked. “I detect the political bug may have bitten you once again.”
“Very perceptive, but I am now content to work behind the scenes. America’s next President is sitting right there in the room with you. Jonathan Bradley will be the next President of the United States. Right, Jonathan?”
“Very funny, Phil,” Jonathan said, smiling and shaking his head.
“I’m deadly serious, my friend. No problem, I’ll teach you how to wage a winning campaign. Good-bye for now. Let’s begin getting ready.”
“Wait one minute here everyone,” Harry said raising his hand. “I believe, in all your new-found euphoria, you are forgetting a few very important things.”
“Su
ch as?” Jonathan asked.
“Such as you are all wanted men – extremely wanted men – with a million-dollar price tag on your heads. You show up here, in person, with minimal if any change in your appearances, and you show up at probably the worst location possible.”
“What do you mean?” the reverend asked with some concern creeping into his voice.
“I mean this anti-government idyllic compound in the pine-scented countryside is the first place they would look for you guys. I guarantee the government has several undercover agents in your congregation right now, Alton. I’m surprised you all didn’t realize this.”
“I guess that’s why we need you around,” Jonathan said sheepishly. “Obviously, you are right. We are stupidly putting ourselves in jeopardy. What do you suggest going forward?”
“Never meet here, or any other location, in person or as a group. Restrict your communications to email and text messages. Use pay phones and cheap pre-paid cell phones. Change your residence every three months. Change your appearance drastically. Let only Jonathan know of your current location. Be aware of your surroundings and possible tails. Be aware that if captured you will be subject to severe torture and you will tell everything you know to stop that torture. And if your capture seems imminent and unpreventable…”
“I have thought deeply on that possible occurrence,” Professor Porlamis said. “In my home, and any home I might relocate to, there is a sturdy hook screwed into a ceiling beam and a sturdy length of rope nearby. There is also a placard stating, I regret I have but one life to give for my country. Need I say more?”
“No, Professor,” Harry said. “Now I have a question for Bill Lange. You and Phil just led us in a pep rally based on China being our salvation by squeezing us economically thereby forcing a second American revolution. When will they make their move?”
“We don’t know,” they both replied.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Harry and Susan sipped their cocktails on the rear deck of their home and quietly admired the expansive view of greenery surrounding them. “A little bit different than Central Park,” Susan said.