“It has been a crazy day,” Molly agreed.
“Child, you must be famished.” She walked past Molly and put the tray down on a coffee table. “There’s barbecued chicken, fresh sweet potatoes and two helpings of deep dish apple pie.”
“Thank you.” Molly was hungry and embarrassed by all kindness being bestowed on her.
“Y’all get a good rest,” she said as she left the room.
Molly was left back at square one. Was this really a rogue state? She looked at the feast before her and reached for the deep dish apple pie. Why? Because I’m a big girl and I can do what the hell I want. She dug in. The apple pie was warm and sweet with so many spices tickling her tongue. Damn, that was good. Halfway through some barbecued chicken she sent McCarthy a report of what she had seen. The ride in, the quality of his troops and even the abundance of food she had seen. She completed the report with a request for information on Otto Jay and a query about Maggie’s investigation.
MAC: Will get back to you about Jay. Maggie’s mission has been accomplished. She deserves it.
Molly: Thank you, John. Owe you large.
MAC: It’s okay. It’s the way I want to go out.
Molly: ?
Molly wondered about McCarthy’s reply for a few hours. Then it hit her. The man had been way overdue to retire. She placed the Blackberry on the night stand and got ready for some sleep.
In a few hours, the day proved to be cloudy with patchy fog. Perfect for a Jack the Ripper movie. In the lobby, Molly paused to finish her coffee and touch base. She pulled out her Blackberry and found McCarthy’s report on Jay. Wow, was there anybody left at the top who was normal? As she read on it struck her that up until now the term “Canadian political intrigue” had seemed ridiculous. But, there it was. Maybe we were just too busy with our own house of cards to worry about theirs. She summed up the report and had another chat with Maggie.
Maggie was hiding something. As sisters they knew they never discussed the moments of fear in each of their jobs. Maggie didn’t tell Molly because she knew it would worry her sick. Molly would not tell Maggie for fear she would call in an air strike on the people who had offended her sister. Although Maggie had been straight up about the danger, there was something else there. Not in her words but in her mood. Just the unspoken feeling you get from people you know very well. Molly put the Blackberry in her purse and tried to calm herself. Maggie was very capable, very well trained. There, she said all the things to herself that every relative or friend of people in service say to themselves. She picked up her bag and went to leave the hotel, wishing for once that the mantra would work and make her feel better.
Molly stepped out of the hotel to greet a Humvee which pulled up. A driver jumped out of the vehicle while three others busied themselves by pulling sound and lighting equipment from the cargo area.
“Good morning, ma’am.” The driver walked up to greet Molly. “Just drove your crew over.”
“My crew?” Molly feigned surprise. It was time to spring the trap.
“Your sound and camera crew for your interview with the General,” he explained. His eyes betrayed an almost paranoid concern for anything going wrong.
“I don’t need one.” She smiled sweetly.
“I’m sorry, ma’am?” His voice broke slightly.
“New format for Sixty Minutes,” She held up her portable camera. “I will shoot the General while asking the questions. It gives a more realistic feel to the interview. Like the viewer is part of the action.”
“Oh.” His nostrils flared. “Then you pass the tape over to our editors?”
“Don’t need to.” She was killing him and she knew it. “I do all the editing on my laptop.”
“Ma’am,” His hand gestured toward the Humvee and the crew. “This is your crew. They’re here to shoot and edit your story.”
“Your people said nothing about a crew to me.” She shrugged and continued with her sugary smile. “You just said I was the only one to come interview the General.”
“Ma’am, this is all highly irregular…”
“Blame the consultants who came up with the idea.” She let her smile dim slightly. “I’m just here to interview the General.”
“I’m not sure the General will agree to this,” he warned.
“Well, then I guess I’ll just take in the sights of Huntington and then head home tonight.” She started to turn away from him and walk back into the hotel.
“Wait, wait.” His face was the very picture of oh shit, no. “I will contact the General.” He was already on his way back to the Humvee.
Molly watched him jump into the cab and use the radio. All through the conversation the man gestured wildly with his free right hand. The left was holding the radio microphone so close to his mouth it would leave a mark. Wow, guys, really thought you would get away with this, didn’t you? I interviewed Putin. If I could get through Russian paranoia and bullshit what made you think you could play me?
He finally returned the microphone to its cradle and stepped out of the cab. His conversation with the production crew was brief and to the point. They made a few observations to him and got back in the Humvee after packing their gear. One or two icy stares came her way but Molly just returned them. Sorry boys, she gave them a cold smile. Things are tough all over. The driver walked over to where she was waiting, a sour look on his face. He nodded to Molly and then spoke.
“Sorry about the confusion, ma’am,” His voice betrayed his annoyance in the politest of tones. “The General will be arriving shortly. You might want to start filming soon.”
“Thank you very much.” Her smile was pure saccharine.
He abruptly turned away and walked back to the Humvee. He climbed in and started the vehicle without a second glance in her direction. The man’s acceleration into traffic betrayed his true feelings.
A noise Molly had not heard since her childhood in Baltimore made her turn to her left. A horse and carriage was slowly making its way down the street. Two horses of jet black color pulled the beautifully ornamented open-air coach. The interior was velvet green. The wood and brass glistened in the fog-shrouded sunlight. The guy in the Humvee was right. Molly immediately started filming.
“I do apologize for my lateness.” The general waved from the backseat. “Office matters and urgent requests, I do not make it a habit of keeping so fair a lady waiting.”
“I must say, General Beauregard,” she spoke from behind the camera. “You sure do know how to make an entrance.”
“Just southern dash and chivalry, ma’am,” He smiled, clearly happy that she was filming. “It’s how we’re raised.”
The passenger coachman jumped down and opened the door with a flourish. Molly briefly stopped filming to climb up and seat herself in the carriage. While the camera was off,
Beauregard leaned forward to whisper to her. “I was informed there was a miscommunication.” His voice was serious. “I trust it has all been worked out?”
“Totally,” It was her only answer.
“This new format,” his right hand pointed at the camera. “I must say I watch Sixty Minutes all the time. I dare say I have never seen it.”
“They were waiting for the right story.” She decided to go for flattery. “You’re such a strong personality that we felt you and you alone should have the spotlight.”
“Why thank you.” He loved it and waved the coachmen to get going.
“Shall we begin?” She held the camera to her right eye as the coach eased into traffic. Two police motorcycles maintained a discreet distance. “General John C. Beauregard, President of the New Republic of West Virginia from his capitol in Huntington. Thank you for having us, General.”
“Thank you for making the journey to our independent state.” His tone was cordial but he had just sent a message. This was his land.
“There are those who have said you’re a traitor, General.” She hit him with a hard, fast one right off the bat.
His smile briefly di
sappeared but his calm did not waver. “My loyalty to the people of these United States has never wavered. I wear an armed forces uniform because I wish to serve them.”
“Still,” She persisted. “You are occupying United States territory.”
“Occupying?” He cocked his head, he had already recovered from the surprise question. “How so?”
“You have set up an independent state on American land,” Molly explained.
“I daresay, the Indigenous natives might also say that about the US government,” he retorted with a smile. “But, I guess that’s a topic for another report. “
“Touche’, General.” She had to smile at that one, “You do not see what you’re doing as illegal?”
“Ma’am, when we showed up here just three years ago.” His tone was serious, to the point. “We were the first soldiers these people had seen. Naturally, they welcomed us and we have earned their support.”
“But, General….”
“Please, allow me to finish, ma’am.” He held up his left hand. “I have said that my loyalty to the American people is unwavering. I do mean it. These people clearly required protection and a more responsive administration. I have provided both.”
“Let’s turn to economics.” Molly moved to a new topic. “You have certainly had success with fighting inflation.”
“I cannot take credit for that.” He was clearly proud of this part of his tenure. “Some very learned gentlemen were quite instrumental in our success.”
“Give us a quick rundown how you did it.” She urged him on.
“It has been a combination of high interest rates and stringent price controls.” He seemed to be an actor trying to remember his lines. Clearly, economics was not his strong suit. “The most effective part of this was salary controls and subsidies.”
“Salary controls and subsidies?” Molly wanted more. “Please explain.”
“With such a huge population decrease in the last few years,” What an antiseptic term for the slaughter we have been through, she thought. The general continued his explanation as he waved to a few onlookers who cheered him. “It has become very difficult to find enough workers.Those workers that are available have charged what they want. Causing the products they are working on to skyrocket in price. The most notorious perpetrators of this are migrant workers.”
“Migrant workers,” she repeated and kept filming.
“Yes, they arrive in a community at harvest and dictate a ridiculous price to gather their crops.” The general explained while calmly reclining in the carriage. “The farmer has to choose between paying up or letting his crops rot in the fields.”
“How have you broken this cycle?”
“We created our own labor force.” Beauregard made it sound so simple.
“How did you do that?” Molly kept her question quick. Beauregard talking was the key to the interview’s success.
“We got the prisons in our area involved.” Beauregard waved to some children and a mother as the carriage passed by. “We kept them motivated with a deal. They do good work and we’ll improve their conditions.”
His gaze returned to the camera to make his point. “We kept our promise.”
“Further,” he continued. “You may have noticed how difficult and treacherous travel has become.”
“Making my way here was quite something, General,” Molly agreed as the camera recorded on.
“I am glad my troops could be of service.” Molly thought how effective his asides were. Savvy was a word that only began to describe them. “Migrant workers entering into our area were offered our new contract. But, we subsidized them with housing. We all have a lot of empty houses these days, so the idea dovetailed nicely. “
“The migrant workers,” Molly seized on the subject. “They accepted this?”
“Many did.” He nodded. “Steady work all year round without the dangers of the road and your own home. Just sign on the dotted line.”
“Are they free to leave?” she asked.
“After their contract is up,” His smile was broad and genuine. He loved having all the answers. “They are free to go.”
“How long are the contracts for?”
“A couple of years,” He rhymed off the answer. “Not long, and many choose to stay on.”
“Most people watching this broadcast think you have just a few thousand troops under your command.” Molly was preparing to drop the big number that would make the East Coast soil its underwear.
“Is that a fact?” His head angled sideways with a polite smile on his face.
“General, would you please tell our audience how many troops you have under your command?” She realized this was drama. But every good news story had a few nuggets of good performance in it. The world would be shocked to learn how many newscasters had started out as actors.
“I have no secrets from the American public,” He turned to the camera and in a calm, benevolent voice said: “I have sixty-three thousand under my command.”
“Can you understand why some might see you as a threat?” Molly pointed out.
“I am sure there are some who are quite alarmed.” He was playing the role of kindly statesman. “However, I only offer the American people a strong, steady ally.”
“What guarantees can you offer?” This might be good, she thought.
“First of all,” He was playing to the camera and not to Molly. Only the schooled politicians do that, she observed. “I have most of the state of West Virginia to protect. That requires a lot of troops.”
“You’re not using your troops to expand your frontiers?” Molly fired off the question, hoping he would take the bait.
“As I have said previously,” he said with a sigh. “We only go where we are welcome.”
“Like the oil and gas refinery in Catlettsburg, Kentucky?” She countered. “That is not in West Virginia. It’s in Kentucky.”
“Yes, it’s about ten miles away, I reckon,” the general replied calmly. “Ma’am, we did not take that facility. It was abandoned when we arrived.”
“So, you just took it.”
“Ms. Hunter.” His jaw line was growing firm but his tone displayed disappointment in her comment, “We are not thieves. Those people were happy to see a military presence in their area.”
“Do you plan on giving it back?” She continued on the subject.
“Things are very chaotic in the fine state of Kentucky right now.” He kept his voice calm but was clearly getting irritated at the aggressive line of questioning. “I look forward to a time when things settle down enough for us to have that discussion.”
“It is very convenient for you to have the gas and refineries.” Molly pointed out. “It gives you reserves that you can tap in on at harvest season for equipment.”
“It does come in handy.” He winked at her. A soldier came running alongside the coach and handed the general a cell phone, “If you will excuse me just a minute.”
As the general listened carefully to the phone conversation Molly looked at the man. Open discussions with Kentucky on the oil refinery? I will not see the day when that will happen, she thought.
“We’ll be there shortly.” The general closed the phone and handed it back to the runner. “How is your battery supply holding out?”
Molly checked the light on her camera.. “I have one at half power, and two more in reserve.”
“You might wish to accompany me to the area of Racine and Madison on Highway 3.” His eyes were steel for the moment. “It seems we have an issue there. A group of those things has been spotted.”
“If you don’t mind me tagging along,” She was putting away the camera and getting ready to move.
“A command vehicle is coming to get us.” The general nodded, a little more coldly now that he had faced her tough questions. “We can catch lunch on the way.”
Highway 3 was a two-lane road that stretched through the south of West Virginia’s tobacco farms. The fog continued to hang close to the clay-lik
e earth, stubbornly refusing to give ground as the day went on. As the farms stretched on Molly’s curiosity got the best of her.
“General, why are you still growing tobacco?” Molly turned to him. He had been quiet for some time. “Aren’t there other things you can grow?”
“Tobacco is used for many things other than smoking, ma’am.” His tone was subdued and serious. “The healthcare industry uses it to treat skin rashes, eczema and rheumatism. We have shipped some to the southern US where it is used to treat snake bites. But yes, there are still many wealthy smokers in our country who still haven’t kicked the habit. We have found there is nothing wrong with their money. It’s just as good as everyone else’s.”
“I see.” Molly could not help a sly smile.
“Ms. Hunter, may I talk to you personally?” He turned and faced her for the first time since they had left Huntington.
“Of course,” She had been preparing for this.
“You said I was a traitor…” He let his voice trail off so she could pick it up.
“No General, I did not.” She leaned forward in her seat. “There are people who view you as a traitor. I did not say you were a traitor.”
“Do people say such things about me?” Molly looked at him carefully. His feelings were truly wounded, but he was taking in the information with his calm, intelligent eyes.. “I daresay, I was shocked to hear you say that.”
“General.” Molly tried to explain “I am a reporter. It is my job to ask the tough questions. I don’t make things up, I do not insult people. I ask questions to report the facts. You are a very controversial story right now.”
She looked him in the eyes without challenge, only honesty. “Some people are calling you a traitor.”
”Well, I guess you can’t please everyone.” He gave a long sigh and watched a sign go by that announced that Racine was ten miles away. “You do ask tough questions.”
“Nothing personal,” she replied. “It’s my job.”
“No offence taken.” He gave a slight smile. “Where were you before Sixty Minutes?”
5 Years After Page 21