PROJECT BlueBolt - AMERICAN GULAGS: BOOK I - AMERICAN GULAGS

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PROJECT BlueBolt - AMERICAN GULAGS: BOOK I - AMERICAN GULAGS Page 9

by Marshall Huffman


  “And how do you keep the word from getting out?” she asked.

  “We can’t totally. What we can do is notify their work that they have been arrested for subversive activities.”

  “What about their spouses and kids? They are going to know what happened.”

  “They are being moved to the first internment camps, specifically the one at Flaxman Island in Alaska. It is about as close to the top of the world as you can get. There is total isolation. They are going to simply disappear.”

  “But neighbors are going to know. Friends, family and all kinds of people will eventually know something has happened to them,” Clemons said frowning.

  “Yes, but what? We are not going to go in like gangbusters. We intend to use a minimum force and use civilian cars and trucks. They will take nothing with them but the clothes on their backs. We will whisk them off, close the house up and they just disappear.”

  “I don’t know. Someone will know something is wrong and start asking questions.”

  “When they do, we remove them as well. Madam President we have five internment camps ready right now. Each holds between thirty and forty thousand people. We will have it under control.”

  “And you think no one will connect this to the ISS?” she asked.

  “We will control the information through Jack Ekman.”

  “Where are the five camps?” Clemons asked.

  “All five of the first ones are in Alaska. Maguire Island, Stockton Island, Point McIntyre, Jones Island, and of course Flaxman Island.”

  “After you have arrested them you take them to the airport and fly them to Alaska?”

  “Exactly.”

  “This had better not come back to bite us,” she warned.

  “We have it covered.”

  “Alright then proceed. Where are these people located?”

  “In every state but we are starting with the ones in Georgia, Alabama, South Carolina, and Florida for now. Those states alone account for almost 1,200 machine guns and automatic weapons.”

  “Good grief! In just those four states?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You’re right. We certainly can’t have that. Just be careful. No big shootouts,” she admonished.

  “We don’t really think that will happen but if something should go wrong we have that covered too. We have proof of terrorist activities files that we just fill in the data on.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  ****

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Kline. We are with ISS. We need to speak to your husband.”

  “Billy? Why? Is something wrong?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Mr. Kline has four registered class III weapons. We are issuing new permits and checking serial numbers. He isn’t in any trouble. It’s just an administrative thing.”

  “Oh dear. Well I don’t really know anything about that. I know Billy has several guns but I don’t know one from the other. Sometimes I wish he didn’t keep so many around the house. We have two boys that are going to be teens in a few months. That scares me a little,” she told them.

  “I can certainly understand that. He does have locks on them doesn’t he?”

  “Well, I hope so. I never asked him. I just assumed he did. He said it was safe if I kept the boys out of the basement.”

  “Is that where he keeps his guns?”

  “Yes. He has a little shop he built down there. He reloads and whatever else he does with his guns down there.”

  “Well maybe you could just show us and we could take down the numbers and leave the paperwork for him to fill out and mail in,” the agent said hopefully.

  “He keeps it locked. Heck, I don’t even go down there.”

  “When is Mr. Kline due home?” the agent asked, looking at his watch.

  He knew he was due within the next few minutes. It would have been too simple to just get them and go. Now they were going to have to do it the hard way.

  “He should be here any minute,” she told them.

  “Do you mind if we wait?”

  “Well, I guess that would be okay. I need to get supper on the table.”

  “You go right ahead. We’ll just wait in the front room,” he told her.

  Ten minutes later Billy came walking the house expecting to find his wife instead three men were there to greet him.

  “What the...”

  “Mr. Kline. We are with the ISS. We are here to check on your Class III automatic weapons.”

  “I don’t understand. I have them legally. I have already paid the tax and have a permit for them.”

  “Yes, that may be true but a new policy has been implemented. We need to check the serial numbers and make sure no other weapons have been converted to full automatics.”

  “Do you have a warrant for this?”

  “Sir, we do not need a warrant to see if you are complying with the letter of the law. What we need to do is check your weapons,” the agent insisted.

  “You can’t just barge in here like this.”

  “Mr. Kline, we are going to check them with our without your help.”

  “Well good luck with that. They are in a safe and I don’t think you are going to do a damn thing about it.”

  The agent sighed heavily, “This is so unnecessary. Call in the Clearing Unit,” he said to one of the other agents.

  “What the hell is that?” Billy demanded.

  “You will see for yourself in a few minutes. You are welcome to go ahead and have dinner. It won’t be long,” the agent told Billy.

  Billy’s wife was watching the scene unfolding, wiping her hands with a dishtowel.

  “Billy, just let them check them and get it over with.”

  “No way. They come storming in and demand to see the guns I have a legal certification to own. This is Gestapo stuff.”

  “Billy I invited them in. They didn’t force their way in.”

  “What? You let these...whatever they are, into our house?”

  “Billy, they are with the ISS. What did you expect me to do?”

  “Tell them to take a hike.”

  “That wouldn’t have worked Mr. Kline. This is a legitimate ISS action and we would have gained access one way or the other. This is much better.”

  Just as Billy was ready to say something there was a knock at the door. The agent opened it and five more men arrived carrying assorted tools.

  “Now Mr. Kline, do yourself a favor and just show us the guns.”

  “Hey, up yours. I’m not doing a damn thing to help you.”

  “Alright, have it your way. Gentlemen,” he said to the CU squad, “Access to the basement is through the kitchen.”

  “Got it.”

  ****

  It took the CU squad almost two hours before they finally were able to force the save open. They had to use a plasma cutter to finally gain access to the guns. The agents immediately started loading all of the guns into several large gun bags and hauled them out of the house.

  “What the hell is going on?” Billy bellowed as they started carrying them out of the house.

  “You should have cooperated. Now we are going to check every gun and make sure it is properly registered and has not been altered.”

  “You have no right to take anything without a court order.”

  The agent turned and looked at him.

  “Mr. Kline, CU is not finished. I will have them take this house apart piece by piece to see if you are hiding any other guns. We will also be confiscating your ammunition.”

  “This is unreal. You are just tossing the 2nd Amendment out the window. This is totally illegal.”

  “ISS has deemed this to be totally legal when someone resists and interferes with us doing our job. You have stepped over that line. We are arresting you on charges of obstruction.”

  “What?” his wife exclaimed.

  “Arresting me for defending my house? For keeping thugs from stealing my property? This is crazy,” he yelled.

  “Cuff him
and put him in the car,” he told one of the other agents.

  Billy started to struggle but they quickly subdued him and hauled him off to their car. Once the house was totally searched they left, leaving Mrs. Kline to wonder what in the world had just happened.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The reporter looked around carefully before crossing the street and entering the restaurant. He walked quickly to the back booth and sat down so he could see the front door. He was nervous and rightfully so. He had stumbled onto some pretty disturbing news. He had heard about a new division of ISS that had the power to break into people’s homes and arrest them for subversion without a warrant.

  A few minutes later a tall, distinguished man with mostly grey hair walked in and looked around. His shoulders were slightly stooped and it seemed to take him a minute to decide whether to enter the restaurant or not. Finally he walked back with his briefcase in his hand to where the reported was seated.

  “You are Mike Walker,” he stated.

  “You must be Arnold Fritz.”

  “Correct,”

  “Please have a seat.”

  Fritz slid into the booth across from Walker.

  “I understand that you have some information for me,” Walker said.

  Just then the waitress came over and they both ordered soft beverages. The waited in silence until they were served.

  “That is correct. You understand that if you accept what I give you, your life will not only be in danger but you will never look at things the same way.”

  “That sounds a tad dramatic.”

  “Does it?”

  “Well think about it. How would you react if I said the same thing to you without knowing what you were really talking about?”

  “I would think I had better be very careful before I heard you out and you should be the same. Once I give you the material, how you handle it will be crucial.”

  “What do you know about an operation called BlueBolt?”

  “BlueBolt? Never heard of it. Sounds like something to do with electricity.”

  “I can assure you that is not the case. BlueBolt is a plan thought up in 1996 that has to deal with the country becoming a dictatorship rather than a democracy.”

  “Whoa. That can’t be done in today’s world. No way.”

  “Then you had better think again. Let me ask you, who has the ability to monitor our every move, listen to everything we say, look at every e-mail or text message?”

  “The government, of course, but they do it to keep us safe. It is the price we have to pay to keep terrorism out of this country.”

  “Really? So you have no problem with them snooping in on your conversations?”

  “I don’t like it but like I said, that’s the way it has to be with our enemies trying to destroy the country.”

  “Do you know anything about the ISS and their powers? They are the enforcement arm of BlueBolt.”

  “Enforcement?”

  “Police division, except they have no restrictions.”

  “Of course they have. They can’t just run around arresting whomever they want.”

  “Really? Who will stop them? The regular police? No. The regular police are under the jurisdiction of ISS. They answer to them. Did you know that an ISS agent can arrest, detain, and question anyone they want for as long as they want? No warrant is needed. No phone calls to lawyers or anyone else. They can just swoop in and grab you and hold you indefinitely.”

  “Look, I don’t know where you got your information but that isn’t the way it is done. Maybe with terrorists but not regular citizens.”

  “You think not? Let me show you something,” he said taking a file out of his battered briefcase.

  He laid the file unopened on the table and fingered it for a few moments.

  “Once you read the contents of this file your life will be very different. Don’t read it unless you are ready for a huge shock.”

  “Geez. What do you have in there? Pictures of the President shooting someone?”

  “Something just as incriminating,” Fritz replied.

  Finally he shoved it into the middle of the table. Walker touched it for a few minutes but like all reporters, he just couldn’t not open it.

  Walker started reading through the file. He would stop every once in a while and look wild-eyed at Fritz. When he was finished he sat there staring at Fritz for the longest time.

  “This is legitimate?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Look, if it is, I would need to have additional confirmation of what you have in here.”

  “Some of it should be fairly simple. Right now thirty drones are flying over the city at various places. You can just go out and start checking for them. You may not find all thirty but you will get a sense of how many are up there. Check the number of new cameras on the streets and street poles. They now stretch all the way to the suburbs. They can follow you everyplace you go.”

  “But if you are doing nothing wrong, why care?”

  “Think about that for a moment. You happen to run into someone you know and are just standing there and talking to them. They are being watched and the person happens to be someone on the ISS ‘watch’ list. Now you become a person of interest and go on the list as well by association. No matter how innocent it may seem, you are now subject to guilt by association.”

  The reporter just looked at him for a few seconds. He was trying to reconcile himself to this possibility.

  “Tell me about the different police battalions,” he said at last.

  “I will tell you what I know. So far there are only four battalions but more will be added. Battalion 101 is responsible for tracking the people suspected of being a threat to the country. Battalion 102 is for regular criminal acts. They act much like the regular police except that they have much broader powers. Battalion 103 is what is referred to as the Cleanup Unit, or simply CU. They come in and search and seize any items deemed to be either subversive or potentially harmful to the United States. Basically they are a search and seizure group. They also clean up after an action. You have something hidden, they will find it. You need a mess cleaned up, they fix it. Battalion 104 is a removal squad. They work hand in hand with Battalion 103.”

  “Wait a minute. This has to be bullshit. I mean this is America. We don’t have groups like this that can just break the law at will.”

  “Oh it’s deeper than that. They can suspend the Constitution at any time and are totally free to do so. On top of that, they can’t be prosecuted if they are acting in an official capacity.”

  “Mr. Fritz, this is all very interesting. Really it is, but I just can’t believe that it’s true. You are talking about a Police State. What’s next, Gulags?”

  “Actually we already have them. The official term is ‘Internment Camps’. Gulag has such a bad connotation.”

  “How can you prove any of this?” Walker demanded.

  “Oh my dear boy, I don’t intend to. That is where you come in. That is if you feel up to it and aren’t too intimidated. Make no mistake, once you start down this road, there will be no turning back. You will not be safe.”

  “This is nuts. You want me to dig all of this out and on top of that put my life at risk? Are you out of your ever loving mind?”

  “Do with it what you will. I have given you the information. What you do from here on out is up to you.”

  “Where did this come from?” Walker asked, tapping the folder with his finger.

  “Someone who was a part of the planning of BlueBolt but is no longer a member. They decided to disassociate with the project.”

  “Were they fired?”

  “No. They just disappeared for their own safety.”

  “Look, before I pick up the ball and run with it, I will want to talk to the person that supplied this information.”

  “Yes, that has been anticipated. Be outside of the Hay-Adams Hotel at exactly 9:00 p.m. Bring absolutely nothing with you. A black SUV will pull up and you are to get i
n and will be taken to meet the person.”

  “I just climb in a car with someone I don’t know. Just like that?”

  “Just like that Mr. Walker. The choice is up to you. Be there or don’t. I have done my job at this point,” Fritz said taking out a ten dollar bill and laying it on the table. He picked up his old briefcase and walked out of the restaurant without another word.

  Walker sat there trying to determine if the man was serious or just a nutcase. Finally he picked up the folder and left.

  On the sidewalk he stopped and just looked around in the air. He spotted two drones within just a few minutes. If Fritz was right he could have just made it on someone’s hit list. Now what the hell was he going to do?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Walker was still leery as he stood waiting outside of the Hay-Adams Hotel. He felt like everyone that went by was checking him out. A black GMC SUV slid up next to the curb and the dark glass window on the passenger side rolled down.

  “Get in Mr. Walker,” the driver said.

  Walker looked around quickly then opened the door and slid inside. The car pulled away from the curb immediately and blended in with the usual snarled traffic.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “To meet the person who will tell you everything you want to know.”

  “Who is that?”

  “In due time. Just relax. I need to concentrate. I want to make sure we aren’t being followed,” the driver told him.

  “Followed? Why would we be followed?”

  “Because the man you are going to meet is a danger to the administration’s plans.”

  “The internment camps?”

  “Much bigger than that,” was all he said and continued to drive elusively.

  Walker just watched out the window and knew they were someplace close to Georgetown but he didn’t know the exact location. The SUV finally pulled into a private drive and drove back a quarter mile or so to a big colonial style house. Pine trees deadened the noise from the street. The driver walked him up to the door and opened it for him.

  “Ah, Mr. Walker,” Fritz said appearing out of a side room.

  “Mr. Fritz? Am I here to see you?”

 

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