Freedom Earned. Ronald Price
Border States are firmly in the president’s pocket.
Duncan’s mind raced through past events that led to these thoughts. All we need is a return to our independence. A country like ours cannot survive as a service country. We need to build and produce with national pride for all of our citizens. We must regain our companies and control our destiny without outsiders doing it for us. We have many other ways to help people without bankrupting them or forcing all the major corporations out of the country with higher taxes. If Canada and Mexico wished to remain as part of the United States, it would need to be by referendum in the United States first and then in each of the two countries.
The direction they were going was correct in his mind. Yes, he thought, we must eliminate the liberal processes and greed that have overtaken the industry and politics. We must shut the door on any who will sell us off for silver or gold. The laws they enacted to control corporate greed paid off for a time—only now our industries have moved to overseas locations where the laws here are of little use. We must control the moneymakers and remove those left-wing liberal and mammy-pammy judges. All the people have a right to this country’s heritage. We are not just European, Native American, African, or Asian. We are Americans.
He muttered aloud, “If we can pull this off, maybe, just maybe, we can bring some sanity back to this country.” He knew they must restore the constitution, defeat the liberals, and stop the new world order at all costs. His mind relaxed, his eyelids were heavy, and he slipped into sleep, tired from the pressure of the day’s events.
*****
As Tork regained consciousness, two men stepped out of a police car and hurried over to the group. “What’s going on here?” one man shouted.
The other held up his hand to him. “Everyone, please stay where you are. I want you and you”—pointing to Charlene and Cal—“to tell me what happened.”
Cal started to explain that the two men were trying to rob him when Tork started to focus in on those around him. Tork’s head reminded him of the day’s events. He opened his eyes and looking down on him was Cal, Charlene, and several cops he knew. Det. Sgt. Roland Tempelton, San Francisco Police Department, was holding a cold compress on Tork’s head that a waitress had handed him.
“Okay, Tork, what’s going on? And don’t tell me its siesta time in the parking lot.”
Tork tried to smile, but it hurt and he winced from the pain. He gazed around and his eyes fell on Cal. “Well, this is another fine mess you got me into, Ollie.”
Cal smiled and knew Tork was going to be okay.
“Sorry, Sergeant, but when I saw those two guys trying to get Cal, I had to do something. I just didn’t figure on coming out second. I had no gun, so I tried to help Cal the best way I could.”
“Yeah, Sarge,” Cal said. “I asked Tork to meet me here this morning. I needed a hand and knew Tork could help me out. I figure a couple of hoods with guns you guys missed decided they would pick up a few extra bucks.”
“Okay, I guess I can buy that. You know how the law is now. Down on anything that may injure a fellow member of the New Order. You get my drift?”
“Yeah, Sarge,” both Tork and Cal replied in unison.
They helped Tork up, and feebly, he got into Mo’s for a much needed cup of coffee and an ice bag. After sitting in the booth and sipping a cup, he started on Cal. “Okay, Cal, now what’s this all about? You’re on an old road that turns into a new road. What’s strange about that?”
“Look, Tork. I drove a good ten miles or farther down that road, scratched the hell out of my car, and probably destroyed the steering with all the chuckholes I hit. I’m telling you I was lucky to get through to the new section. I drove down the new part of the road about a mile or so not seeing a thing. Figured I should have been in or close to a town, or some lights, or something. But nothing was out there, so I decided to turn around and go back.
“The car was starting to run a little better and I was hoping whatever the trouble was, it started to clear itself up. After I turned around and headed back toward the old road, I glanced in my rearview and saw moonlight shining on something coming up behind me. As I watched, it grew bigger. I realized then it was a vehicle closing on me with no lights on. I don’t know how but he was coming up real fast. It scared the hell out of me, so I kicked the pedal to the metal. The car bucked a couple of times and the good Lord was with me and cleared whatever was fouling up the injectors. They let go and I took off. I hit that old stretch of road doing a good seventy and kept it there until I hit the main highway and headed home with them following me all the way.”
Tork thought for a moment and then said, “I think we need to drive down there. We should start early enough so you can look for it at night. If we leave this afternoon, we should get their early in the morning before daybreak, and hopefully you can find your Indian gift shop sign and the road. Once we find the road, we’ll follow it and see where it goes.”
“I don’t know, Tork. I think my lights tipped them off,” said Cal. “Going in with our lights on may be a mistake.”
“Cal, I’m hoping you’re right. If we’re going to find them, we need to let them know where we are. To do that, we need to set them up ourselves.”
“What have you got in mind, Tork?”
“Cal, trust me.”
Chapter 3
Concern
Washington DC
Tuesday, May 28
A very influential member of Congress was on the phone with a highly placed member of the revolutionary council, busily trying to mend a breach in a high-level security activity that could save America.
“I spoke with Colonel Duncan yesterday, and he assures me he will have the intruder in custody by tonight. He has two intelligence officers working on it right now, and I do not think we have anything to worry about.”
Senator Forthright put down the phone and turned to his aide. “Michael, call Emory and have him get my plane ready. We’ll be flying to California tonight. I have to make sure nothing goes wrong. Too many errors are showing up to suit me.”
Michael Poncie nodded his head, went into his office, and dialed a private number.
The phone rang several times before a gruff voice answered, “Yeah?”
“Is Emory there?”
“Yeah, just a minute,” he replied.
“Hello, Emory Watson. May I help you?”
“Emory, Michael here. How soon can you have the Falcon ready to fly with long-range tanks? We have a long trip ahead of us.”
“It’s all ready to go, Mike. Give me an hour for in-flight preparations and we can take off.”
Emory didn’t particularly like Michael, so he took advantage of calling him Mike whenever he could. He knew Michael detested it, and it made Emory feel good when he could put one over on the pompous bureaucrat.
Michael had told him before that his name was Michael, not Mike, or Mickey, or Mick. It was Michael and he would not stand for anything less.
Well, then, thought Emory, Mike it will be. Yes, sir, Mike it is.
Emory pulled back on the Falcon’s throttles and the four jet engines started to whine as the turbine’s RPM increased. The plane began to move down the runway as the plane’s airspeed picked up rapidly. The wings began to move up as air under and above the wings started to lift it into the heavens. Just as Emory felt her rise up, he reached over and pushed the switch to raise the landing gear.
You could hear the hydraulics whining as the wheels came up, the wheel well doors closed, and the closed door light came on. The plane increased its altitude to its assigned airspace and headed west. Destination? Somewhere in Southern California.
*****