The (New) American Way

by Mark R. Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The (New) American Way

  Copyright © 2019 by Mark R. Adams

  All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  ISBN (paperback): 9781642377507

  eISBN: 9781642377514

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  The Beginning

  Chapter 2

  How I Got Here

  Chapter 3

  Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

  Chapter 4

  The Decision Is Made

  Chapter 5

  Off To The Swamp

  Chapter 6

  It Begins

  Chapter 7

  Now, It’s My Turn

  Chapter 8

  Flashbacks

  Chapter 9

  Back To Reality

  Chapter 10

  Implementing Policy

  Chapter 11

  Day 3

  Chapter 12

  “Merry Christmas” Is Back

  Chapter 13

  Things Are Heating Up

  Chapter 14

  The Mexico Plan

  Chapter 15

  On The Border

  Chapter 16

  Dealing With Negatives

  Chapter 17

  Disagreeable People

  Chapter 18

  Success And Failure

  Chapter 19

  The Recovery

  This book is dedicated to all the servicemen who

  gave their life for this great country and to all the

  military branches that protect us every day.

  I would like to thank my wife Shari for tirelessly

  helping me prepare my book for publication

  and for the 38 years of marital bliss.

  Chapter 1

  THE BEGINNING

  A large crowd lined up outside a suburban neighborhood bookstore. Most of the people standing in line held hardcover copies of a book entitled The (New) American Way. Upon the glass window at the front of the store was a poster showing a large black and white photo of an early middle-aged man wearing a sports jacket and a button-up shirt. Beneath the man were big bold letters spelling my name: Adam Marsh.

  Sitting at a table in a bookstore in Charlottesville, Virginia, (at age 45), I glanced at stacks of The (New) American Way on either side of me. One after another a multitude of patrons approached me for an autograph. A nice-looking 30-something woman steps up for her turn as I ask, “And what is your name?”

  “Diane,” she answered. I nodded and began writing a short note inside her book, and as I finished, she continued, “I truly think you are a hero, Mr. Marsh. All my relatives agree and we’ve got liberals, conservatives, and moderates.”

  I almost blushed while answering, “Oh, that’s very kind of you to say.”

  Diane added, “What would be terrific is if the ideas in your book could actually come true.”

  I smiled a little bit, which revealed a buried sadness within my gaze and answered, “I’m right there with you on that one.” I gently slapped her book shut and handed it back to her.

  Smiling, she moved on allowing the next patron to step forward.

  It was a teenage boy. “Who are you?” he inquired.

  “I’m Adam Marsh, and this is my first book The (New) American Way,” I proclaimed. “It has topped the best-seller list for 14 months now, and I’m, to be honest, quite humbled by its success. I mean, I’m not the best writer in the world, but I do have a passion for my ideas,” I concluded.

  Another teenage boy joined his friend, and he said, “Hi, Mr. Marsh.”

  “You can call me Adam,” I told him. “What’s your name?”

  “Teddy,” he said, “and this is my friend, Eric. Is there a movie coming out, based on your book?”

  With a puzzled look, I answered. “We just signed the contracts last week. Between you and me, I think that’s why this line is so long.”

  I winked at the boys and Eric said, “Nah, man. I think it’s because people want things to change.”

  I nodded and thought, Wow, what a smart kid.

  As the boys left, a man in a black suit stepped up to the table. He placed his copy of my book down in front of me.

  “Who shall I make it out to?” I asked.

  But strangely the man just walked away. My eyebrows lowered as I watched the man leave. I was bewildered to say the least. I looked down at the book and opened the front cover to find a note written crisp and dark that said, “Meet me behind the store after the signing.” I tried to mask my concern and placed the book aside. I put on a big smile for the next customer and continued to give autographs for the next two hours.

  As I finished with the last patron, the owner of the bookstore came over and said, “This has been a tremendous success. I really appreciate your professionalism and patience with my customers.”

  I told him, “You’re welcome, and thank you for the opportunity to sell a few more books. By the way, do you have a back door here?”

  He showed me the back door, and I told my driver/bodyguard to meet me there with the car. I waited a couple of minutes for the car to pull around, and then emerged through the exit. The man in the black suit was smoking a cigarette and checked the time on his phone while leaning against his black SUV.

  My driver joined me just as the guy said, “I didn’t realize you’d be bringing company.”

  “My wife tells me I should hire security,” I said.

  He proclaims, “There’s nothing for you to fear, Mr. Marsh.”

  He stepped toward me, only to be met by my security guard, who asked, “Is there a problem here?” The man glares at my guard then reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a badge.

  “FBI,” he said.

  My security guard said, “How do we know that’s real?”

  The agent snapped the badge shut and bragged, “I’d be happy to prove it. I can have 50 of my fellow agents here in 10 minutes.” The guard looked at me and I told him to take it easy and let me talk to the guy alone.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said.

  “You sure?” he asked

  “Yeah. Give me a few minutes,” I said.

  I turned to the agent and asked, “What’s this all about?”

  He answered, “My is name is Craig Archer and I’m a great fan of your work, Mr. Marsh. My colleagues, too.”

  As he shook my hand, I replied, “Wow. Thanks. What a comforting thing to say.”

  Craig inquired, “Can we have an hour of your time?”

  “Who’s we?” I asked.

  Craig stared at me and reassured me, “We are your friends, Mr. Marsh. All of us are your friends. We want to give you a chance to do something great for our country. From reading your book, we get the idea that you are a take-charge kind of person that gets things done. We have a proposition for you, but it’s not my place to present this opportunity. I’m asking you to please come with me and meet with the people who sent me. I will take you back to your hotel as soon as the meeting concludes. You won’t need your driver any more tonight.”

  Getting in a vehicle with a strange man goes against everything I had been taught. I don’t usually put myself in situations in which I don’t have control. Without my driver and s
ecurity, I was taking a big chance, but one thing convinced me to go with him: He never checked me for a weapon, and I was carrying my 9mm pistol. I had a conceal-carry license and seldom went anywhere without a gun. Traveling around a country that is so polarized, one can run into a lot of people who disagree with almost all my ideas. I figured if Craig wasn’t an FBI agent and meant to do me harm, he would have checked me for a weapon.

  I decided to go with him. I told my driver,” Go to the hotel and wait for me. I’ll check in with you every hour. If I don’t, call the police and tell them what happened here.”

  He nodded and wished me good luck. I got into the black SUV with Craig feeling a bit uneasy and on high alert.

  We drove for about 45 minutes toward Washington, DC, and finally pulled into a parking lot of what looked like a government building of some kind. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. If I was meeting a group of Craig’s friends there, they must have parachuted in. He walked me into the building with a flashlight. He turned the lights on as we walked down a long hallway. We entered a room with a long conference table and Craig pulled out a chair at its head. He turned to me and said, “Sit here,’ and headed toward the door. “I hope we get a chance to meet again. Maybe next time I’ll even grab an autograph,” he said as he winked and left the room.

  So many scenarios were going through my head as I sat in that room alone; the walls naked, no logos, pictures, or symbols. Where in the world was I? After a couple of moments that seemed like forever, a stream of military officials poured through the room’s door. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, Reserves--you name it—they were all there. Even the CIA, NSA and FBI had representatives there. What on earth did they want with me?

  The last man shut the door behind him and made a point to lock it; once the chairs filled up, men stood lining the blank walls.

  Across from me sat General Scott St. Claire. I recognized him from appearances on TV from time to time. He addressed me, “It’s a pleasure to see you here, Mr. Marsh.”

  My mouth was so dry I could barely answer, “I hope I can say the same.”

  The men all laugh. The General proclaimed, “Oh, yes. You don’t trust the government much, now do you?”

  I replied, “I certainly haven’t made that a secret.”

  “Well, we have,” said the General.

  Looking a little puzzled, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “It’s simple, said the General. “We don’t trust the government either, but no one knows that except us,” as he points around the room. The room was silent for a moment. I nodded my head as if I were starting to understand where they were coming from, but I was still confused as to what they wanted from me. The General continued, “It worked for a long time, more or less. But what we didn’t realize for all those decades was that the government’s functioning depended, to a certain extent, upon the honor system. People agreed--consciously or otherwise--to look out for the public’s interests when they got into elected office. Nowadays, however, it’s party before people and ideology before common sense.”

  “You sound like you’ve been reading my book,” I replied. The room bursts into laughter and I was beginning to feel more comfortable in my surroundings.

  “We’ve all read your book, and I’ve read some chapters more than once,” said the General.

  “Okay, but what’s that got to do with me being here?” I asked.

  The General answered, “We’ve had something in the works, Mr. Marsh. It’s highly confidential and has been going on for just over a decade now. We intend to overthrow the federal government.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I had been saying it for years. Since America was more than 20 trillion in debt and politicians lining their own pockets with no regard for the hard-working people in this country, I knew something like this was possible. I had predicted that if something like this ever happened, it would be the military that carried it out. But why me? I looked at the General and said, “You’re kidding me, right?”

  And with a most stern look on his face, the General replied, “No, Mr. Marsh. We are dead serious!”

  “How do I know you guys are even who you say you are? I mean, I got driven here by an FBI agent, maybe, and put in a bare room to sit down with not one recognizable person. How do I know this isn’t some kind of set-up?” I asked.

  The General replied, “In time we’re hopeful we’ll gain your trust. If you like, I can orchestrate a ride in one of our new tanks, but for now let me say this . . .” The General stood up and walked around the room and turned to me and said, “We have the military capacity to overthrow the government. We could put our plan into action within 72 hours. It’s been rehearsed, perfected and we have buy-in from leadership at all levels of command. However, what we’ve lacked for all these years is a public face. We need someone popular, someone the people trust. According to the data we’ve compiled, you’re tracking as the most trusted American since George Washington. Elvis ranks a little bit higher than you, but hey, you can’t mess with the king.”

  I closed my eyes for a few seconds, as I understood what my part in all this would be if I bought in.

  “We need a leader,” said the General.

  I replied, “You mean a pawn.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Marsh?” said the General.

  “Look,” I said. “I have a lot of political concepts, but I’ve never lead more than 15 people at one time in my construction business or kids on the basketball teams I coached. You really think I’m leader material for an entire nation?”

  The General responded, “You’ve turned your construction business over to a foreman. You could give it away considering the residuals you’ve received from your book. I feel you have lead more like 40 million people considering the book’s popularity.”

  “I’m here just because so many people like my book?” I countered.

  “Like your book?” the General asked in astonishment. “This isn’t about liking some novel. If that were the case, we’d have brought Stephen King in here. You wrote a book about a new direction for this country. With some minor quibbles, it happens to be the precise direction my colleagues you see here and I have been pursuing for quite some time: A government of the people, for the people, and by the people. The real deal, though, not just symbols and fairy dust.”

  “What am I supposed to be, king?” I inquired.

  “Don’t go competing with Elvis now,” said the General. Everyone laughed except me. The General returned to his seat and said, “You’ll be the commander-in-chief.”

  “The President?” I asked.

  “No, technically, no. On a formal basis, we can grant you commander status and you can run the country however you like. But only the people can elect a President. We trust you will run the country with a common-sense approach like the fictional characters in your novel. So, you can issue executive orders under martial law and run things your way.”

  The Air Force commander spoke up, “For now.” There were chuckles in the room, but General St. Claire was not amused. “That’s right, for now, until we get things straightened out, and then we can start over,” said the General.

  “So you are saying I can change laws, strike down laws, get rid of regulations as I see fit, and run the day to day operations of our federal government. I will have to deal with foreign policy, domestic issues, and answer to you guys?” I said.

  “No, you are the commander-in-chief. We take orders from you. We trust your judgment. You will be the face of the takeover. You give us an order; we carry it out. We believe you will be successful,” the General declares.

  “You know this is treason and we could all be arrested,” I proclaimed.

  At that point everyone was laughing and the Air Force commander said, “Who will do the arresting. Everyone with that authority at the federal level is here. This is a “fool-proof” plan. We just want you to front this.”

  “General St. Claire spoke up, “Just think it over,
you don’t have to answer now.”

  I replied, “Okay. And suppose I say no? Will I disappear, I mean, after all: I could go to the police and tell them about what happened here.”

  General St. Claire smirked and said, “Yeah, but with all due respect, who would believe you? You’re a storyteller, Mr. Marsh, a man of make-believe. Unless you decide to make this real.”

  I stood up and told the entire group that I appreciated their confidence in me and that I would talk it over with my wife and make a decision soon. General St. Claire gave me a phone number to call if I needed to talk with him anymore or to give him my final decision. I called my driver and told him I was on the way back with Agent Archer and not to worry.

  I had a lot to think about.

  My wife had already called me ten times. I’m sure she was worried, but I couldn’t explain it all on the phone. I texted her and told her the book signing ran over and I couldn’t talk. I told her I was tired and going to bed, and would see her tomorrow when I got home. It was going to be a long conversation and I dreaded it. My mind was going 100 mph about the pros and cons of the offer. I had to think of my family, but what about my country? It could be the chance of a lifetime, to make a difference for millions of people.

  I doubted that I would sleep that night.

  Chapter 2

  HOW I GOT HERE

  How I got to this point in my life is an amazing story, yet that wasn’t the half of it. Writing a novel was the farthest thing from my mind when I was in college. I just wanted a degree and a job teaching school, so I could coach basketball and golf. That all came to pass, and I experienced some success. But as time went by, I learned some valuable lessons. The most important of these lessons was that there wasn’t much money in teaching and coaching. I was sort of known for not playing well with others. In other words, I needed to be my own boss. So, I turned to the only other thing I knew much about: the construction business.