Gabriel's Stand

by Jay B. Gaskill

  “Well, in no particular order, here it is.” John said. “They are using a combination of blackmail, extortion, biological warfare, and selective Stage Three confiscations. More clever than I anticipated.”

  “TB 6 is showing up everywhere,” Dornan said, “and they are interdicting our antibiotic and vaccine shipments, and doling out the confiscated supplies to control key people.”

  “Most people are still unaware we have cures for these diseases?”

  Gabriel nodded. “What about Snowfeather? How will you get her out?”

  “I’m working on it. I didn’t have all the details when I first told you that Snowfeather was under arrest. Here’s how it came down. Two weeks ago, I tried to get her a shipment of antibiotics. The handoff blew up, and she was arrested by NYPD. We do have friends on that force. So, for the time being, she is safe. Our lawyers have been trying to get her bailed out, but we are stalled temporarily.”

  Gabriel carefully placed the cigar on an ashtray. “Where, exactly, is she is in jail?”

  “In the Manhattan precinct where I have three personal friends, and you have one.”

  “Sergeant Wilson Lean Wolf O’Shaunnesy?”

  “The same. Only city custody for now, but bail was denied. They’re holding off the Commission for the time being.”

  “I’ve got to go back and help her. You’d do the same, John.”

  “Yes, I would. The good news is that we now have the security recording of the Bishop’s murder. This is leverage.”

  “How did you get that?”

  “Friends…”

  “If it implicates the Directorate or the Commission, they will wet their panties, wondering when and how you will release it.”

  “I’d like to threaten to release our recording in order to get Snowfeather out.”

  “Thanks, John, but likely it won’t work that way. You’ll burn your law enforcement friends and give Longworthy and his crowd time to think of a way to discredit the recording. I say you hit ’em with it, and work hard to get Snowfeather out at the same time.”

  “So we just run it?”

  “Yes. And we hurry,” Gabriel said. “You saw what they were willing to do to stop my webcasts.”

  “Gabriel has a point. They are cutting the fiber op cables,” Bill said. “They hope to squeeze web access to the point where only the compliant media is left.”

  “Of course, web access uses multiple sources, including satellite, and the old style phone lines. Some of the backbone cables are intact,” John said.

  “That will only get worse,” Gabriel said. “What could they do to hurt satellite television and internet?”

  “They seem to have a staged plan to close the whole thing down bit by bit. People are losing bandwidth every day.”

  “But, good for us, they are in a self-made bind,” Dornan said. “The Commission still needs at least one working path for its propaganda campaign—so they can’t give up the basic com-infrastructure. But they desperately need to control the content.”

  “While they are trying to silence talk of the pandemic, they’ve started confiscating some satellite receivers and dishes in the old Stage Three areas,” Owen said.

  “If the scope and pace of those seizures expand rapidly,” Dornan added, “they are triggering information access panic.”

  “I agree with Bill. They are moving too damn fast, Gabriel. Even since you escaped, there were seizures in the Salt Lake area, Portland, Seattle, Chicago, as well as Manhattan.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said. “That will work against them. People won’t put up with this. It is stupid of them, moving so fast…unless they have an end-game plan. So, about my earlier question. Do we have a plan?”

  “Yes…an evolving one. I have a safe house in DC from which you can carry on a lobbying campaign,” Owen replied. “Meantime, you have my word we’ll get Snowfeather out. Even if I personally have to break her out.”

  “The goal is Treaty de-ratification,” Dornan said. “Thurston Smith, Junior, the new Speaker of the House, has been talking it up.”

  “So this presents a new problem,” John said. “Thurston Smith Senior is now in federal jail. With Snowfeather also in Manhattan jail, the G-A-N has two hostages.”

  Gabriel pursed his lips. “When can you get them out?”

  “Not sure…yet.”

  “So we are stuck for the moment, Senator,” Dornan said. “By the way, no one seems to know where your wife is.”

  “Which is good news. Trust me, Alice will be very hard to find.” Gabriel looked out over the railing at the distant waves. “Does the Senate have the power to cancel any treaty ratification?” he asked. “I mean, without the president’s agreement?”

  “My lawyers looked into that. It probably can be done, but not without the House,” John said. “Something like that was first done in July 1789, by Joint Resolution, repudiating the existing treaties with France. My people warn that it will probably take two thirds of the entire Senate, declared privately, before anyone will have the guts to stand up and be counted. And even with the House on board, we will need at least the passive support of the Administration.”

  Gabriel frowned. “That’s a hard, hard sell. President Baxter would have been an impossible sell because the original treaty was his baby. …And President Chandler? He’s an heir to Baxter’s legacy.”

  “That SOB is a wimp, never known for courage, political or any other,” Dornan growled.

  “Ah, but a very egotistical wimp,” Gabriel said.

  “I agree,” John said. “His ego is on our side. We have heard that President Chandler resents Longworthy’s arrogance and interference.”

  “He might enjoy taking a shot at the Commission just to get back at Rex?” Bill asked.

  “Maybe so,” Gabriel said, warming to the idea. “Can Thurston Junior deliver the House? Gabriel asked.

  “The Speaker can deliver,” John said. “But not while the Speaker’s father is in jail.”

  “So is this checkmate?” Gabriel asked.

  “We can’t allow it,” John said quietly, “we will not allow it.”

  Gabriel stood, taking his coffee cup to the railing. “What do we have to work with?” he asked somewhat to himself. Surf foamed against the beach, while a soft breeze stirred the orchid plants below. White clouds drifted in the brilliant blue sky. He took it all in and said softly, “We have reality on our side. The survival instinct.”

  John regarded his friend. “The new pandemics will kill people, potentially in the hundreds of millions. I can’t make enough drugs fast enough in one plant, even if I could deliver them. But the other pharmaceutical plants in the US were just locked up when the early retro orders were served. The research facilities padlocked but not decommissioned. Most of them could be brought on line as soon the Commission is out of business.”

  “Unless the G-A-N blows them up,” Dornan said gravely.

  “How long do we have?” Gabriel asked. There was a long pause. “I am in for the duration. I don’t need any rest. Just send me back in the field as soon as you need to.”

  “Good,” John said, letting go of his breath. “Good,” he repeated. “I’ll figure something out today. We have no time to lose. No time at all.”

  Part Three: The Trial

  “Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”

  Winston Churchill

  Chapter 68

  “Ah, President Chandler, it is such an honor to speak with the leader of one of the world’s great nations again.” Commissioner Longworthy’s tone was unctuous, delivered with faux sincerity. His face, appearing on a screen in the National Security Briefing room in the White House, betrayed his cynicism. Chandler glowered at the screen, while just out of camera range, Brice Lyle, his National Security Director and Celia Wallace Horn, the Attorney General, watched in angry silence.

  “And the honor of being here in person was just too much for you, I suppose,” President Chandler said.
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br />   “Regrettably,” Rex said, spreading his hands like a pair of fans, “the press of business, you know.”

  “The DOJ has reviewed your proposal.”

  “Of course. And you will proceed?”

  “We cannot extradite John Owen and, frankly, I don’t see any reason to bother with him. What does the Commission want with one man? An expatriate, for Christ’s sake. Why is this so damned important?”

  “My dear Mr. President. Your advisors are such fools. I appreciate your patience. Of course you had to go through the motions of presenting the matter to your legal and policy people and we do appreciate that, but this matter is beyond discussion.”

  Chandler glanced at the Attorney General; then he returned his attention to the screen. “There is no room for compromise?”

  Longworthy smiled. “None. Will that be all, Mr. President?”

  Chandler paused, his face flushed. “That will be all,” he said, and broke the connection. “God damn that little prick!” he shouted, slapping the table. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose with both hands. “Get me the Senate Majority Leader,” he snarled. Then after a long pause, he turned to his Attorney General. “Just how quickly can your staff draw up some kind of damned indictment against Dr. Owen?”

  “Tomorrow, I suppose.”

  “Well go ahead and do it. But don’t file it yet. I’ve got to figure out what they’re up to.”

  ——

  The next morning, Elisabeth gave Gabriel a tour of the little island. John Owen put in a half day at the new Vector Pharmaceutical plant, coming home and heading directly to his lanai. He settled into his favorite lounge chair with a stack of files. The sound of surf in the distance mingled with tropical birdcalls. For a moment, he closed his eyes.

  Then Josh Junior, his grandson, leaned out over the windowsill. “Hi!”

  From inside the house, Elisabeth’s voice called, “Bill says that Tan is calling.”

  Owen kept his expression even. Berker.

  He put down his work and looked up at the kitchen window.

  “Elisabeth! Where are you?”

  “Here in the living room!”

  John got up and walked over to the window to meet his daughter.

  Elisabeth laid the house wire phone on the sill. Josh immediately picked it up and gave it to Grandpa. “Here,” Josh said solemnly.

  “Good man,” he said to Josh, patting the boy on the shoulder. Dr. Owen took the phone as if it were a loaded weapon. “Bill?” he asked.

  “It’s her, all right.”

  “Berker?”

  “Verified.”

  “What number did they use?”

  “The one we gave Snowfeather. It was routed through a number of exchanges, untraceable.”

  “I want to see Berker’s face.”

  “That will take a while to set up. A little more risk of a trace. Are you sure?”

  “My territory, not hers. Hi-tech or nothing.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Where do you want to talk?”

  “In the old conference room. Get the team together, but keep them out of camera range.”

  ——

  Dr. John Owen sat at the end of a conference table against a plain mahogany backdrop. The room was well soundproofed. From Berker’s point of view, he could be anywhere on the planet. Colonel Dornan and John’s three other top staff members, including Owen’s lead attorney, sat on the other side of the table with notepads. Gabriel hovered behind Owen’s staff, his face solemn, impassive. An old fashioned blackboard was arranged so that John could see it while looking directly at the camera. “Go ahead,” he said. “Make the connection.”

  Moments later, Louise Berker’s face appeared on the sixty inch screen; then the camera zoomed back slightly to show several other Directorate members, all shaved heads, all in their robes. “To what do I owe this honor, Ms. Berker—excuse me, Tan? You and what looks like the entire Directorate?”

  “How is the weather, Dr. Owen?”

  “In Iowa? I can’t complain. What’s on your mind?”

  “Tomorrow morning the U.S. Attorney for Seattle will charge you with several felony counts, all connected with your unlawful drug running.”

  “Thank you for the heads-up. I guess that shopping trip I had planned to Pike Place Market will have to be canceled.”

  “You can clear this up, Dr. Owen. You will find that the government is prepared to be very reasonable.”

  “It’s not the government I am worried about. And reasonable is not in your functioning vocabulary.”

  “We are prepared to offer you a real incentive to surrender and to face these charges.”

  “Really. And I suppose you have cleared this with the Administration.”

  “Chandler will do what we tell him.”

  “For once, I am inclined to agree. But I am not interested. Any other business before we conclude this conversation?”

  “Snowfeather is back in custody. No bail. We understand you have followed the unfortunate death of her Bishop.”

  “Murder, I think you meant to say. So what are you trying to imply?”

  “We have access to that jail, Dr. Owen.”

  John looked past the camera to the blackboard. “DON’T BITE!” was written in bold. “This is a concern for me?”

  “Of course it is. Let me make it easy for you. You will not be arrested. You will stand trial without ever going into custody. Snowfeather will be released with a presidential pardon. She will not be harmed.”

  “The last promise is unenforceable.”

  “If she is harmed at any time during the trial, all your charges will be dismissed and you will be free to go about your business. After the trial or at any time prior, your people can pick her up and protect her.”

  The blackboard said, “HANG UP!”

  Without missing a beat, Owen said, “I will consider your offer on the following additional conditions.”

  The blackboard said, “NO!!”

  “My trial will be televised from start to finish and broadcast on all media outlets without censorship. Any violation of this agreement will result in an immediate dismissal of all charges against me. Snowfeather will be released and pardoned immediately as an act of good faith…before I surrender. Her father, former Senator Gabriel Standing Bear Lindstrom will have full immunity from arrest or prosecution, and former Senator Thurston Smith, will be released before I surrender and he also will have full immunity from arrest and will not be charged with any offenses from now until thirty days after my trial is concluded.”

  “We don’t have Standing Bear.”

  “Then any arrest of him would be a breach of our agreement. And Thurston Smith Senior is to be released from custody immediately. After my surrender I will be allowed to have my own private security people with me at all times, and without restrictions, including in the courtroom. All elements of this agreement will be signed by you, Commissioner Longworthy, President Chandler, Attorney General Horn, and the judge assigned to hear my trial.”

  “That would probably be Judge Wandright. I’m sure you will need time to consider this.”

  “Those are my terms, Ms. Berker. Take them now or forget it.”

  There was a long pause. Berker’s face was impassive. “Done,” she said.

  “Agreed,” John said, without skipping a beat. “My Washington DC lawyers will contact you within the next four hours. Goodbye.”

  When the screen went blank. “How’d I do, guys?”

  John’s lawyer was sitting with his head in his hands. Colonel Dornan’s head was also down, his hands rubbing his eyes. Gabriel, standing in back, made eye contact with John, and nodded.

  The follow-on conversation took place in Owen’s living room an hour later. Elisabeth, Bill Dornan, Ken Wang, and little Josh sat together across from John. The lawyers and other staff had been banished from the house. A gentle ocean breeze came through from the open door to the lanai, stirring the orchids that hung languidly from plante
rs on either side. John sipped his coffee deliberately.

  “Dad, you just can’t go,” Elisabeth said. “They’ll never let you come back.”

  “I know the risks, Elisabeth, but I can’t not go,” John said. He sat forward in his wicker chair, placed the coffee cup on a tiny glass table, and pressed his hands together in front of him. “Everything depends on getting Thurston Smith Senior and Snowfeather out of jail long enough to work with Gabriel Standing Bear and Thurston Junior to lobby the Senate leadership and change the political situation.

  “The Directorate thinks they can stop Edge Medical just by stopping me. But I am not indispensable. We’ll be sending all of our proprietary technical information to every industry scientist in the field by secret courier. My trial will be the perfect diversion while our allies work the political angle.”

  “The hell you’re not indispensable,” Elisabeth said. “I only have one father.”

  Josh sat next to his mother on the couch, his eyes wide. Dr. Owen’s face was stricken for a second; then he smiled. He stood, walked across and picked up Josh, raising him over his head. Josh giggled. John walked the boy to the large window with a view of the lava beach below. The two stood together looking out, each with hands clasped behind, the tall man in linen slacks and flowered shirt, and the small solemn boy in denim shorts and tee shirt. After a while, John glanced down approvingly. “I need you here, Josh, to help your mom and dad out, until I come back. Okay?”

  Josh looked up at his grandfather. “Okay,” he said with resolve, then resumed surveying the ocean outside. He was very proud of his grandfather. After a few more minutes of whispered conversation, the two walked back together. Josh returned to the couch, a sturdy little man in a tiny boy’s body. Daddy Josh was gone forever but he could help Daddy Ken and Mom. He would help. John made no effort to hide the tears that had formed in his eyes.

  Dr. Owen picked up his coffee and sipped while he recovered his composure. Elisabeth frowned. “If this is about revenge—” she said.

  “Oh, I’d give anything to have revenge on those people,” John said. His voice was like a steel hammer, each word a separate blow. He paused, breathing deeply. “But I will not allow myself to act out of anger. Too much is at stake.”