by Gordon Ryan
Dan sat in amazement, recovering long enough to question the process. “Excuse me, Governor, but doesn’t the minority leader make assignments to new members of his party?”
“I’ll take care of the minority leader, Dan,” Dewhirst replied. “We’re of the same party—he, you, and I, remember? And the Speaker will take care of the majority committee chair from his own party. It’s a tough role we’re giving you, and especially so for such a new member. But your background and local government management experience will serve you well in this assignment. James and I will continue to take the political highroad, and the heat, I might add, against this secession mania as long as we can. But you, Mr. Rawlings, will need to tone down your opposition to the secession and go to work as if it were a fait accompli.
“Should we fail to prevent this ill-conceived secession, we need to have someone loyal, dependable, and more importantly, capable, who will have put in place the groundwork for a stable and functional government. That’s no easy task.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Dan said. Anxious not to let the momentum get away, he pressed the issue. “The committee chair from the majority party, Mr. Speaker. What will my position be relative to him and, of course, to the senior minority member? I certainly have no standing regarding seniority.”
James Huntington rose and moved to the sideboard to refill his coffee cup. “Leave that to me, Dan. You’ll have all the latitude you need to accomplish your assignment.”
“Well, that seems to have covered it,” the governor said. “We’re pleased to have you on the team, Daniel Rawlings. Welcome to the world of politics.”
“Thank you, Governor. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir. And you, Mr. Speaker,” he said, reaching for his briefcase. As they approached the door, Dan paused for a moment. “Oh, Governor, one more thing. Would it be possible to obtain the services of an outside consultant? A knowledgeable professional who might give some important insight into the process?”
“Have someone in mind, Dan?” the governor asked.
“Well, sir, I …”
“Son,” Dewhirst interrupted, placing his arm around Dan’s shoulder and walking him toward the door, “when the Speaker and I got down to a short list of potential candidates to accomplish this difficult task, whom do you suppose we asked to confirm your qualifications?”
Dan hesitated, not sure of the governor’s meaning. Then the light dawned. His smile growing, he glanced at the Speaker, whose face was covered with a large grin.
“It wouldn’t be a feisty old Stanford Law School professor with a quick wit, would it, sir?”
“None other, Mr. Rawlings. Professor Horatio Julius, who sends hordes of young Stanford lawyers into government service each year. A recommendation from him carries a lot of weight around here. Keep this assignment under your hat until the Speaker’s announcement Monday. I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other. And James, why don’t we see what we can do to get him an office out of that musty basement where we usually hide the freshman, eh?”
“I’ll see what we can do, Governor,” Huntington said.
“Oh, and Mr. Speaker,” Dan said, edging toward the door, “about that Gary Cooper movie? We’ve got a lot of legislators in this building—most of whom haven’t taken a public stance. If you’ll recall, the eventual culprit and the rebels’ ‘inside man’ turned out to be the post commander, who also served, I believe, as the territorial governor.”
Governor Dewhirst’s eyes grew large, and Huntington began to laugh out loud.
“Walt, I think this kid will get both our seats if we’re not on our toes.”
In the foyer, Mrs. Hansen stood as the trio appeared. “Governor, General Del Valle would like you to call when you have a moment.”
“I’ll get right on it, Mrs. Hansen. You see, Dan, even the governor responds when Mrs. Hansen commands. If you have any needs and I can’t be reached—she’s the one to call.”
Victoria Hansen smiled at Dan Rawlings as he started for the door. Reaching the foyer exit, Dan looked back at her. “This might give me another character for my next novel, Mrs. Hansen.”
“Oh, dear, Mr. Rawlings. I’d better not have a fight with the governor then. Right?”
“I’ll be watching,” Dan said, and left.
Returning to his basement office, Dan sat in his chair, wishing for a window through which to contemplate his thoughts, as had become his habit years earlier. Write the constitution? If James Madison can do it, he thought, so can I. Yeah, right. He slumped down in his chair, beginning to feel the weight of the burden. Then, swiveling in his chair, he punched the speed dial on his phone.
“Good morning. Federal Bureau of Investigation. May I help you?”
“Agent Bentley, please.”
Chapter 26
Governor’s Office, California Capitol Building
Sacramento, California
I’ll put you through now, General Del Valle.”
“Good morning, Bob. New developments brewing?” Governor Dewhirst asked.
“It’s not good, Governor. I’m on my cellular, so I’d better come to the point in case we get cut off. Can you fit me into your schedule this afternoon?”
Dewhirst flipped open his daily agenda, prepared each evening by Mrs. Hansen and placed on the governor’s desk prior to her departure. “Three-fifteen.”
“Fine. It’ll be me and Lieutenant Colonel Jack Harman. He’s the commander, 324th Armored Battalion here in Sacramento.”
“Why do I get the impression I’m not going to like this news?” the governor queried.
“Like I said, Governor, it’s not good. You’ve got some decisions to make. We’ll see you at three fifteen.”
Precisely at three twelve, Del Valle and Harman entered the governor’s suite and were cordially greeted by Mrs. Hansen. Both men were in uniform, having spent the previous evening and early morning hours in meetings and then flying nearly three hours in the National Guard helicopter from Fort Irwin, in southern California.
Dewhirst shook Del Valle’s hand, then reached to shake Colonel Harman’s as well. “Colonel, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Dewhirst motioned for both men to take seats, retreating behind his desk. “Bob, your call sounded urgent.”
“Governor, we’re rapidly approaching some key decision points. Actually, that ‘we’ is self-serving. You’re approaching some decision points, I’m afraid. We’ve spoken of this before, but events are quickly taking on a momentum of their own, and we need to act accordingly. Perhaps I’ll let Colonel Harman explain. Colonel,” he said, turning the floor over to Harman, who quickly stood.
“Sir, I’ve been in touch—”
“Colonel,” the governor interrupted, “if you’d prefer to stand to deliver your briefing, that’s fine. But I’d be just as apt to listen if you made yourself comfortable and sat.”
Harman looked toward Del Valle, who just nodded. “Actually, Governor, I’d prefer to stand, if you don’t mind. I can pace a bit, sir,” he said, hesitantly.
Dewhirst just smiled, nodding his approval.
“Sir,” Harman began again, “I’ve been in touch with my counterpart at Fort Irwin over the past several months as the secession issues have begun to boil. When the ATF agents were ambushed and gunned down, we had some operational meetings regarding how to isolate and neutralize these militia units’ military capabilities.”
Governor Dewhirst looked toward General Del Valle, his raised eyebrows expressing his ignorance of any such plans.
“Unknown to me also, Governor,” Del Valle allowed. “Regular Army internal actions, it would seem. The colonel just briefed me today as well.”
“I see,” Dewhirst responded. “Continue please, Colonel.”
“Well, sir, General Del Valle is right. Regular Army considerations were not made part of California Reserve planning. It’s all gotten rather complicated, sir, and according to policy, the information has been classified under a need-to-know basis only.”
&n
bsp; “Complicated is an understatement, Colonel,” the governor commented.
“Anyway, sir, contingency plans have been formulated with regard to both the militia groups and …” Harman looked again toward Del Valle, seeking direction.
“Lay it out, Colonel. The governor’s a big boy.”
“Yes, sir. Plans to deal with both the local militia groups and the California Reserve, specifically the National Guard, were formulated to neutralize their effectiveness. Actually, sir, my appointment as commander of the 324th is part of that plan. Changing leadership of the units—from reserve to regular Army commanders—down to the company level has been designed to effectively place control of these units under regular Army direction.”
Again, Dewhirst looked toward Del Valle. “Bob? Were you aware of this?”
“Not until this morning, Governor. I knew, of course, that the assignment was occurring and was unusual, but not unprecedented. But I was not aware of a strategy that established a policy toward that end.”
“How widespread is this, Bob?”
“Other changes are occurring now, Governor. Routine paperwork for these changes has, shall we say, inadvertently missed my desk. Essentially, I’ve been cut out of the loop, it would seem, for about the past six months.”
The governor stood and came around his desk, moving to the sideboard and filling his coffee cup. “What do we do about it?” he asked, returning to his seat.
“That’s what we’re here for, Governor,” Del Valle replied. “Plus one more bit of information. Please continue, Colonel.”
“Sir,” Harman spoke softly, “my counterpart advised that his armored battalion, plus the air mobile cavalry unit, had been placed on a twelve-hour alert. They were to prepare for immediate deployment …” he hesitated briefly before adding “… internally.”
“Internally?” the governor queried, looking up.
“Specifically …” Harman again looked toward Del Valle, who remained stone-faced and impassive. “… specifically, sir, they have been alerted to stand by on twelve-hours’ notice to deploy to Sacramento, and to effect a supportive posture for U.S. marshals who have been or will be assigned to suspend the California legislature. In brief, sir, should the California government announce the formation of an independent constitutional committee as planned, the Army has been directed to implement martial law and to shut down the state government.”
Walter Dewhirst rose and stood behind his chair, his eyes growing larger with the revelations being delivered by Colonel Harman. “Suspend this government?” he blurted, turning to look at Del Valle, who also stood.
Robert Del Valle moved to the front of the governor’s desk and spoke in a soft tone. “Governor Dewhirst, the California National Guard stands ready to follow your orders. I can’t tell how many will defect or how any of us, for that matter, will respond to such an appalling condition. But I have already prepared the plans for just such an eventuality.”
Walter Dewhirst looked in astonishment at General Del Valle. “You’ve what?”
“Walt,” Del Valle continued, his voice still soft and under control, a ploy that had often confused his opponents in negotiation, coming as it did devoid of any anger from his six-foot, five-inch frame, “Colonel Harman, Colonel Tompkins, my executive officer, and I have developed some ‘what if’ scenarios. It’s only prudent to be prepared. The Army’s options were limited. It wasn’t difficult to project their moves if it came to this. In an insurrection, you move to shut down the government and communications. Local and county governments pose no real problem for Washington, but the federal government has no choice but to exert a semblance of control over what is seen as the rebellious behavior of the California Legislature. They’re coming, and we’ve got to get ready. Unless I’m wrong, you and the Speaker of the House plan to announce the constitutional committee a week from Monday. Am I right?”
Dewhirst nodded.
“Right. Then we’ve got to move to effectively block the redeployment of units from Fort Irwin—not a military confrontation, but a political confrontation, with uniforms all around. We need to be prepared to occupy the capitol building and the perimeter around the square with only a couple of hours’ notice. We need to be here waiting for them when they arrive, or they’ll gain the upper hand. And, Walt,” he cautioned, “we need to do it without firing a shot. It’s a display of resistance to control from Washington.”
“But we don’t want this foolish secession to happen, General!” the governor shouted, spinning his chair out of the way and pounding his fist on the desk.
“I know, Governor,” Del Valle continued, maintaining control over his voice. “We don’t, either.”
Dewhirst took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that outburst. It was uncalled for and certainly not directed at you or Colonel Harman personally. Pull together your contingency plans and be back here at, say …” He glanced at his watch. “Seven tonight. Call your wives, gentlemen. I think it will be a long session. I’ll notify the legislative leadership, and we’ll all meet this evening.”
Del Valle and Harman moved toward the door, the governor following immediately behind.
Dewhirst reached to shake Harman’s hand. “Colonel,” the governor said, “this took courage on your part. Whose side are you on in this mess?”
Colonel Jack Harman didn’t answer for a moment, taken aback by the governor’s direct question. “Governor, I’ve honored my responsibility to my present commander, General Del Valle. But,” he said, looking at his watch, “I’ve got three hours and forty-five minutes to decide the future of my Army career.”
Governor Dewhirst looked into Harman’s eyes, and both men were silent for what seemed like minutes. “Perhaps, Colonel …” the governor said, pausing briefly, “… perhaps we’re in the same boat. I’ve got exactly the same amount of time to decide the fate of California, and in some respects, the fate of America as it is presently constituted.”
* * *
The two young men fidgeted impatiently as they stood on the street corner in the San Francisco Embarcadero. The pile of cigarette stubs in the gutter attested to the length of their wait and to their nervousness. They were careful to slip into the shadows whenever a police patrol car made its rounds. They knew their shaved heads, leather jackets, and Doc Marten boots would instantly subject them to interrogation and harassment. Skinheads were usually fair game for cops—however, not tonight, if they could help it. There was money to be made—that is, if the dude with the tattoos hadn’t been jerking them around when he recruited them.
A dark green van pulled around the corner, moving slowly down the street until the driver spotted the two skinheads and brief recognition was given. The van door slid open, the two men climbed in, and the van quickly moved away, turning toward the Bay Bridge and heading east toward Oakland.
“We thought you wasn’t comin’, man.”
“Got delayed. You ready?”
The two smiled at each other, nervousness now abating as they began the process of psyching themselves up for the evening’s work.
“We’re always ready to pop spooks, man. You got the tools, dude?”
The tattooed driver looked over at his passenger and gave a slight nod. Shaw had instructed Krueger that he was to continue acting as the one in charge, allowing Shaw to take a secondary role. Shaw climbed into the rear of the van and unwrapped two automatic weapons, handing them over the seat to the young skinheads, who examined them with the joy of receiving Christmas presents.
“Fine stuff, man. We can do some damage with these, all right.”
“You got the job down?” the passenger said.
“The man’s been feedin’ it to us for three days,” one skinhead said, inclining his head toward the driver. “What d’ya think, we’re dumb? We know what to do. And we know just where to do it, too, don’t we, Slick?” he said to his companion.
The van exited the Bay Bridge, then took I-80 toward Oakland, pulling off at the first exit and entering a parking lot
. “Okay,” Shaw said. “You know where to meet us. Twenty minutes, that’s all. Drive by, rake the building, and if you get a couple—all the better.”
“We got it knocked, man.”
The passenger and the tattooed driver got out of the van and stood next to a parked car, watching as the van drove off.
* * *
“Move out, First Sergeant.”
“Right, Commander,” the tattooed man said.
They climbed in the parked car, and as Otto drove through the Oakland neighborhoods, Jackson Shaw leaned back in his seat, gazing out the window at the run-down housing and the abandoned, junked cars strewn along the dark streets. Shaw thought of his home in the northern California woods, east of Anderson, and how it contrasted with these crowded tenement houses, their residents crammed in like sardines.
“You think they can pull it off, Commander?”
“One way or another. If they kill a couple of blacks, all the better. We’ll take care of the rest.”
The car pulled into an alley behind a row of dark warehouses and stopped. Shaw got out, opened the trunk, and took out a silenced Beretta and a tire tool. Then he got back into the car and waited.
* * *
Three miles away, a few blocks from Martin Luther King Drive, the dark-colored van cruised the streets, looking for targets of opportunity. After a few minutes, the driver and his passenger spotted a group of young black men standing under a light pole, waiting to cross the street.
Driving slowly past them, the van continued halfway down the block, then made a sharp U-turn and accelerated back toward the young men, their refined street sense suddenly alert to the sound of a rapidly approaching automobile. As the van sped toward them, a weapon appeared, sticking out of the passenger side window.