The Hasten the Day Trilogy

by Billy Roper

  Josh heard the crowd outside above the hum of the air conditioners fighting the early fall warmth. They had been a background noise since the negotiations had begun, sometimes louder and sometimes quieter. Prophet Rammell had twice went out and asked them to go home and cease their disturbance, and some of them had. But more, and angrier, fundamentalists had come to take their place, from somewhere. He was trying to make eye contact with Kelly to show her a heart he had drawn on his meeting itinerary sheet when the dull roar became a sharper buzz, shifting gears and growing louder. Everyone at the table looked towards the doors with alarm as several security personnel, two of the black uniformed New American S.S. and a Texas Ranger and the rest from the D.P.S., piled through with no dignity whatsoever. “Excuse me, gentlemen, lady, but we have a potential security threat. The meeting may have to be suspended until we can resume it at another location,” one of the D.P.S. guards said. Kelly rose to go confer with him. Everyone else began muttering excitedly.

  Secretary of State Kenny Wiggins was just a few steps ahead of the crowd when they came through the doors. The bottleneck bought him a few ungraceful steps, but his lead time was shortened by his weight and three pack a day habit. His penchant for the black market cigarettes had nearly cost him his job with the Bellefont administration when the cartels had attacked, but he had always been able to get his smokes somewhere. Perry had asked him to quit smoking, as a sign of solidarity with the anti-smuggling movement against the cartels. That had been stifling enough, he had thought. But now, this was a real anti-smoking crowd, though! At least they had no idea where the meeting was, as some of them flooded up the broad stone staircase to branch out onto the second floor behind and above him. Wiggins turned left, towards the former Governor’s office, and saw a cluster of nervous looking Deseret Department of Public Safety uniforms, with their weapons drawn. They recognized him and waved him forward, urging him on.

  Prophet Rammell had just authoritatively suggested that they adjourn the meeting to his private office, and opened the door leading to it at the far end of the conference room, when the other doors burst open again. The out of shape Texican smoker half fell inside, then leaned over with his hands on his knees, gasping. “They’re…in…building!” he choked out. Indeed, Josh could hear the echoes now, as the disorganized mob yelled for blood through the halls. Kelly was speaking quietly with the senior D.P.S. officer, and the two New American and the Texas Ranger security people were clustered around their charges protectively. As if a sudden silent agreement had been reached, they started herding them towards the Prophet’s inner sanctum.

  Outside, the white noise reached a crescendo and individualized back into separate voices as the tide approached the front door. A command to stop was followed by the staccato crackle of small arms fire, more screams and the sounds of struggle, followed by another flurry of shots. The doors flew open, almost hitting Wiggins, who was still trying to catch his breath. The Texican Secretary of State turned towards the mob who had chased him down, anger on his face, and immediately was shot two, then three times. About to go through the door, being pulled along by the Texas Ranger, President Bellefont paused to watch his Secretary of State fall. “Oh my God, you killed Kenny! You bastards!” Perry yelled in fury, pulling loose from the riot-rattled Ranger and charging at the crowd surging into the room. The D.P.S. guards opened fire, concentrating on the three or four protesters in front who were armed with weapons taken from the security personnel they’d overwhelmed outside the doors. Josh noticed that Kelly had drawn her sidearm, as well, but seemed to be looking around to choose a target. He pulled his pistol at the same time as his boss, the Republic of Texas President, did the same.

  The room became a jostling cacophony of bodies colliding and gunshots at point blank range. Prophet Rammell and his secretary successfully vacated the melee through the rear door, and two D.P.S. guards followed, closing and barricading it behind them. Everyone on the other side of that door was on their own. Josh tried to move forward to protect Kelly, and to protect the President, in one order or the other, whichever he could get to first. He caught a glimpse of her hair, then one of the New American S.S. guards stepped in front of him, blocking his view. The guard fired again. Screams and very un-Mormonlike curses. Time seemed to slow down as he watched Kelly from behind, firing into the tangle of bodies on the floor. She emptied her weapon. Finally, the room faded into silence except for lingering screams outside, and a whispered, whining prayer from one of the wounded. Then a squad of D.P.S. guards arrived, late to the party, and Kelly took charge of sorting things out.

  That evening, the top story on the BBC North America broadcast covered the tragedy. With footage of the crowd crawling over and past the police lines to surge into the capitol building like a scene from an old Zombie Apocalypse movie, a somber voiceover reported that the death toll of civilians had passed thirty confirmed, with many more injured. At the bottom of the screen scrolled the more shocking news, in terms of potential ramifications, however: President Perry Bellefont of the Republic of Texas, dead. Secretary of State Kenny Wiggins of the Republic of Texas, dead. Ambassador Hugh Jorgan of New America to Deseret, dead. One Republic of Texas Ranger, and eight Deseret Department of Public Safety personnel, dead. A member of the New American diplomatic corps, dead, as well. Several more personnel injured.

  Three flags flew at half staff in three different nations, the next day. The Post Dispatch TV story focused on the life and service of Ambassador Jorgan, with a human interest story about his deceased secretary. Speaker McNabb condemned the fanaticism and religious intolerance which had led to the violence, but praised the two New American Secret Service officers whose brave actions in the room had prevented further tragedy from occurring. The Dallas Morning News headline pictured a smiling President Bellefont and the blurb: “Who Is To Blame? Texas Demands Justice!”.

  General Scott Hampton flew back to Austin, where he held a press conference in which he paid tribute to his mentor and friend. “My fellow Texicans, not only the eyes of Texas, but indeed the eyes of the whole world are upon us, this day. They are watching to see if we will fold or call. They are watching to see if we will pull together under a united leadership, or squabble amongst ourselves over whose job it is to take the reins. I am honored to announce to you that, upon the urging of the legislature and with the popular support of the people of the Republic of Texas, I accept the responsibility of the leadership of our nation. I have some mighty big boots to fill, and I will need all of your help to do the job. Together, as a team, we can find out what happened to my friend and yours, Perry Bellefont. We can figure out who is responsible, and we can make them pay. We may not like what we find out, but we will get to the bottom of it. And when we do…we will get even! Now, who’s with me?!” The Texican press corps responded, with more than polite enthusiasm.

  Two days later, after standing with Perry’s black-clad young widow at the state funeral for the father of their country, Scott officially took the oath of office and was sworn in as the second President of the Republic of Texas. The press corps reported that he had asked the widowed former first lady to maintain her residence in the old Governor’s mansion in perpetuity, and Mrs. Bellefont had accepted.

  Until clarification of what had happened could be offered, the Republic of Texas Ambassador would be recalled, immediately, Josh found out that same day. He tried to find Kelly to tell her goodbye, but she was busy moving her personal effects from her old office to her new one. Jimmy had been placed on administrative suspension pending a full investigation of the breakdown in security outside the capitol, and someone had to do his job, Josh understood. The look in her eyes as the bodies were untangled on the floor in the aftermath of the shootings had seemed so distant. She had clearly been in shock. But her expression had seemed vacuous, almost robotic, emotionless. He hated to have to leave her now, this way, when it was obvious that she needed him the most. The plane was waiting to take him and the full embassy staff back to meet with the new Pr
esident, though. Josh promised himself he would come back for her, as soon as things smoothed over between their nations.

  The 23rd Mounted Infantry, Company B, was moved into Albuquerque to reinforce the three already in the city. Texican claims to the area were strengthened further by an armored column from Amarillo which rolled in a week later. All along the Rio Grande, defenses were prepared and units redeployed. This time, they were facing west. Deseret Gull and Beehive units marched in from Arizona to occupy the other bank. The two sides eyed one another warily, as in Austin, sabers rattled.

  “I don’t know what went on, all I know is, if somebody doesn’t tell me soon, somebody’s gonna get hurt!” President Hampton growled from his chair, as Josh told the story of that day for what seemed like the thousandth time. “Now, whose fault was it, Mr. Walker?”

  “Mr. President, Sir, in my opinion they were completely unprepared for the number of protesters who showed up, or for how violent they got. Nobody expected it.” Josh repeated.

  “Are you sure your involvement with this Johansen woman isn’t clouding your memory, or maybe your judgement, son?” Hampton insinuated.

  “No, Sir…I mean, yes, Sir, I’m sure. I didn’t even speak to her before I left.” That was true enough. “My involvement with her was under the orders of President Bellefont, Sir, for the security of our Republic.”

  The new President sat back at that. “It was, was it? Well, that old fox!” Scott laughed in sad amusement. “Remind me sometime, and I’ll tell you about the time…well, anyway, okay. So, that matter, of the nature of your association with the lady and the reason for the dalliance, there’s no need for anyone to hear about it, am I right, son?”

  “Yes, Sir, absolutely. The less said about it, the better.” Josh tasted bitter acid in his mouth, as he lied.

  “Fair enough, fair enough. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have the unwelcome task of attempting to console a grieving widow.”

  “How is Mrs. Bellefont holding up, if you don’t mind my asking, Sir,” Josh inquired.

  “She’s all torn up. You know, he was twenty years older than her, so she kind of depended on him, like a father figure, really. The poor thing is lost.” Josh nodded in sympathy.

  Back in Salt Lake, Kelly’s post-hypnotic suggestions began to unravel. Once the programmed task was done, the repeated compulsion to do it was distracting, since it could no more be satisfied than scratching an itch after the nerve cells were all clawed away and the wound torn down to the bone would make you feel any better, she thought. Jimmy was disgraced, and she was supposed to take his place as the LDS spy chief. Josh had left town abruptly without even saying goodbye. Karen was frantic that Deseret and Texas were about to go to war. And she wasn’t sure how much of what she felt and thought was real, and how much had been inserted by McNabb, as he’d pushed her buttons.

  At least most of the loose ends, she’d been able to tie up into one neat little package during the chaos of the moment. The Texican President, her primary target, had gone down first, before he even got a shot off at the protesters. She put one right in his face. The Texas Ranger by his side had seen her take aim and reacted, too quickly, almost. She’d had to take him out next. Then the two groups had collided and were rolling around wrestling, and she could just stand there to shoot Jorgan and his floozy secretary, in case he’d leaked some pillow-talk about his visit to her, like fish in a barrel. The senior D.P.S. guy had seen that, and turned to look towards her, eyes wide, so she’d had to take him down with her last couple of shots. That had been a shame, he was a good man. Efficient. After nodding at the New American S.S. guard who had stepped in front of Josh to block his view of what she had done and therefore saved his life, Kelly looked around the room to see if any of the survivors were reacting strangely. You know, like somebody might just after witnessing a well-covered assassination. None had been.

  Chapter Twelve

  It is part of the Jews to be sneaky and sly. The genius of our people has ever been joyous strength, robust forcefulness, directness, manly courage, and flaming heroism. When the Jews, with their economic terrorism, jails, bullies and hangmen, scare the White man into laying down his cudgel and goad him into trying to out-sneak Jewish tyranny, the Jews have completely emasculated the once-strong White man, and doomed him to dishonor and defeat. The White man can NEVER win by sneaking!

  -George Lincoln Rockwell

  If I could see you

  If only I could see you

  To see if you are laughing or crying When the night winds softly blow…

  John was surprised at how well his long-range fall back plan had worked out. It had been one of many schemes, one of a multitude of options he had created for himself to deal with a number of potential future contingencies. He had considered employing others, including other sleeper agents, even closer to the late President of the Republic of Texas. That would have been a more direct action. As it happened, though, calling up the latent subconscious of his former prisoner’s imbedded suggestion had worked just fine. He was glad that he’d kept her in solitary confinement for those months after she was arrested for espionage. Kelly had been posing as a Sister Missionary in a largely Mormon community in Nebraska, while transmitting intelligence via shortwave code to her minders in Deseret. Since she had a female partner, it had been convenient locally to charge her with homosexuality, especially after her partner was killed while resisting arrest. McNabb had brought her to St. Louis and made her one of several pet projects he had taken on that year, as experiments in implanting subconscious suggestions through sensory deprivation and hypnosis.

  Based on the only partial success of a similar exercise the year before, he had been concerned that the amount of time a suggestion was stored in the subconscious might affect the degree to which it was obeyed. Time might lead to a progressive decay of probability. In Kelly’s case, however, her borderline schizophrenic lack of deep empathy allowed for a preservation of the suggestion to such a degree that she had embraced the suggestion as if it were a construct of her own conscious will. She had pursued the internal compulsion with such gusto that the mission had achieved a waking life in which she improvised to cover the triggering, and the programming itself. Kelly had covered her tracks well. That had been too bad for the Ambassador and his secretary, but wonderful for the Speaker and his mission.

  That mission, simply enough, was to sow discord between two of the three most powerful nations on the continent. He had other contingency plans in line for dealing with the Quebecois, if that had presented itself. But for now, he had Deseret and the Republic of Texas at each other’s throats, had removed the last legitimate potential heir to the old national line of succession, and had a rising power in Deseret directly in his pocket. Because now, with the programming unravelling, Kelly would realize what she had done, and why. And short of suicide, she would have no recourse, no refuge, no one she could tell without facing imprisonment, or worse. It was too late for her to apologize, too late to come clean. That bell couldn’t be unrung. What would she do now? She would hide from her sin, wallow in guilt over it, and either commit herself fully to her new identity, or break up into psychosis. He best bet was to join the winning team. The Speaker was sure that she would, but either way, Kelly had done her job beautifully.

  John picked up his phone and placed a call to Lambert Field. Gen. Harrison sent a courier over to take down an encrypted message to be radioed in the clear to Tommy in North California where he was spearheading the nation’s counterintelligence network. It was to be bounced to his counterpart in Austin. John and Scott needed to have a sit-down.

  The Speaker travelled by motorcade rather than by plane, just to add another level of discretion to this trip. As a rare treat, he took Carolyn and Cindy and John Jr. with him, so they could play with the other kids he planned on stopping to visit, and see some pretty fall foliage in the countryside, instead of being cooped up in the city, all of the time. The first night they stopped and had a late dinner with his Atto
rney General’s organization in the Ozark town at the heart of the eight county area they controlled as their own semi-autonomous region within New America. The Knights Committee greeted him warmly, as always, and made him feel at home. He asked if his family could stay there at their property for a couple of days. The Pastor agreed, on the condition that they would all stay and attend church services on Sunday. John happily agreed to the bargain. The next morning, they provided him an escort to the official border of the nation. He and his platoon of S.S. guards crossed the Arkansas River and into territory patrolled by his troops, but not formally included in the Census or in Congress. Not yet, anyway.

  Crossing into the small town of Dardanelle on Highway 7, it was hard to tell where the nation he was the leader of actually ended. The Arkansas Nuclear One power plant provided electricity to this part of the state, including a couple of counties south of the border. All of the Hispanics from this area had been ethnically cleansed years ago. The ‘Starless Stripes’, as the N.A. flag had begun to be called, hung from the County Courthouse as the five armored personnel carriers drove by. Even the people who stopped and stared were all White, and all looked like they were ready to be citizens. He’d have to speak to Jason’s sister, who had replaced his Attorney General as the Congressional representative for North Arkansas, about annexing at least some of the western Counties…even if that would make the name of the state a bit anachronistic. Before long, they would clear out Little Rock, just like they had Memphis, and then the whole Arkansas River, all the way to the border of Indian country well into Oklahoma, was navigable, from here to the Mississippi and up into the rest of the nation. Designing New America’s future occupied his mind while he looked out the narrow ob slits at the green forested mountains and valleys going by.