Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

Del Valle lived in El Dorado Hills, in a home that afforded him a commanding view of the Sacramento Valley. Leaving there in his sports car, General Del Valle began the pre-briefing in his mind, unsure exactly how he would approach the governor, with whom he had requested this meeting. The brutal murders of four ATF agents in November still had everyone in an uproar, and the guard’s intelligence section, working together with the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division, had thus far been unable to confirm the identity of perpetrators, although speculation had been that one or more of the newly amalgamated militia groups was involved.

Del Valle rode the elevator up from the underground parking facility in the capitol building, reflecting momentarily on a tour of schoolchildren giggling, pushing, and teasing each other. What does the future hold for them in the newly rebellious state? Had the children in South Carolina and Virginia known what was happening to their country so long ago? he wondered.

Walking toward the governor’s suite of offices, he passed by several glass-enclosed displays, one for each county in California, each displaying the primary products or industry to be found in that county. Taking a tour of the capitol was almost like attending a mini state fair.

“Good morning, General,” the governor’s secretary said. Wearing civilian clothes to reduce the formality of the visit and to allay the suspicions of any reporters who might be in the building, Del Valle had arranged this meeting to coincide with his routine appearance before the governor.

“The governor will be right with you, sir. He’s just concluding his morning staff review.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hansen. I’ll just have a cup of coffee and sit over here,” he said. Three minutes later, several fresh, young faces filed out of the governor’s office, papers and briefcases in hand. Mrs. Hansen stood and moved to the governor’s door, smiling at General Del Valle. “General, you may see the governor now.”

Del Valle stood, picked up his briefcase, and started for the office, commenting as he passed, “Were we ever that young, Mrs. Hansen?” gesturing toward the departing staff.

She looked toward them as they disappeared down the hall. “Not that I can recall, General, but if memory serves, we, too, once thought we could change the world.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Del Valle allowed. Entering the office suite, Del Valle turned his attention to the governor, who was moving from a conference table toward his desk and who paused to greet Del Valle.

“Good morning, Bob. I see you’re climbing the ladder on Rancho Murietta’s match play golf tournament,” Governor Dewhirst said.

Del Valle smiled and shook the governor’s hand, both men beginning the ritual golf banter.

“Just luck, Governor, and an occasional ‘membership bounce.’ Your side of the ladder seems full of serious players, though. Tough competition, eh?”

California Governor Walter Dewhirst, in his second term, motioned for Del Valle to take a seat and moved to pour fresh coffee before taking a seat opposite. “Some good players, I’ll admit, but we won’t see any real competition until our ladders cross, Bob,” he said with a smile. “I did take the time to check your current handicap. There’s a discrepancy, I think,” he said with a straight face.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Someone seems to have left off the plus sign in front of your three.”

A big grin lit up Del Valle’s face. “I’ll check into it right away, Governor. Actually, I agree with you that it’s an erroneous posting. By the time our ladders cross, I’ll see what I can do to change it to a six. A minus six, that is.”

“You do that,” Dewhirst smiled in return, “and I’ll keep my eight and cross your name off the list anyway.”

Del Valle laughed out loud and picked up his briefcase, retrieving a folder and replacing the case on the floor. “You probably will, Walt. You probably will.”

“So,” the governor began, “got some good news for me, I hope. My peers in nearly every other state have been pressing to know what’s going to happen and how serious we are about this secession nonsense. They know, of course, that citizen support for referendum issues comes and goes in California, but this one doesn’t seem to want to go away.”

“Precisely,” Del Valle responded. “Still, the legislature is going to have to address it more seriously. Since the last election, nearly every legislator has avoided the subject like the plague, speaking in generalities, claiming they’re only doing ‘what the people want.’”

“Well, it’s gonna come back and bite ’em. There’s no escape. We’re gonna have to address it on the floor in open session.”

“And the Speaker?”

“Sheesh, if I only knew. He’s a very private man.”

“Maybe a direct approach, Governor.”

“Our erstwhile Speaker has kept all comers at bay since you were a shave-tail lieutenant. I don’t think this issue, despite the severity, will cause him to change his habits.”

“Can’t you just call him in and see how he stands?”

“He usually doesn’t work that way, but this secession mania is certainly out of the norm.”

“That’s putting it mildly. How about the direct approach: ‘Yea or nay, speaker? Time to ante up.’ Surely this issue’s too big to wait and see where the masses stand, and then get out front and pretend to lead. You know, politics as usual,” Del Valle said.

Governor Dewhirst looked at Del Valle for a moment, a smile forming on his face. Del Valle realized he had inadvertently lumped the governor in with the charge. “Governor, I-”

“No, you’re right. We’ve got to approach this differently. In fact, you’re dead right. It’s time I quit tap-dancing. What’s the thrust of your main subject today?”

Assuming a formal tone, Del Valle opened his folder. “I have some intelligence on the attack on the ATF and we need to discuss how to handle some of the spin-off. If we don’t take a stand and establish some policy on the issue, the Feds will. They’re already moving on several fronts, and we’re not getting much cooperation from the FBI.”

“Anything the Speaker couldn’t hear?”

Del Valle thought momentarily. “I suppose not, Governor. I could shield my sources.”

Governor Dewhirst stood, walked to his desk, and pushed his intercom. “Mrs. Hansen, would you see if the Speaker might have a few moments to join us, please?”

“Certainly, Governor,” she replied.

Dewhirst resumed his seat. “Bob, when he arrives, just shoot straight. It’s time we formed an alliance on this one. My gut tells me he’s as much opposed to this foolish idea of secession as we are. It’s time to get his brain on our team and develop a strategy to keep this state on keel.”

“Governor,” General Del Valle said, continuing his formal tone, “my sources within military circles tell me that the joint chiefs have instructed certain California military units to prepare a contingency plan for federal intervention, should the legislature formalize the secession movement. There’s no equivocation out there. If we march down this path, you’ll find yourself as unpopular in Washington as Jefferson Davis was the last time this was tried.”

Dewhirst reflected on that for a moment then stood as Mrs. Hansen buzzed to announce the arrival of the Speaker.

“Let’s do all we can, General Del Valle,” he responded, “to assure you don’t have to assume Lee’s role. Put it straight to Speaker Huntington, and let’s see where this crafty fox stands.”

Del Valle stood, prepared to greet the Speaker, and replied to the governor, “Yes, sir.”

Speaker of the California Assembly, James Huntington, a tall, silver-haired, distinguished black man who had been the mayor of Fresno thirty-eight years earlier before entering the California legislature, entered the room. Mrs. Hansen closed the door behind him.