John Barnes - Daybreak Zero

She drew a breath and began. “There’s something we need to cover before talking about anything else this morning. Last night an ongoing investigation discovered that one of the Reconstruction Research Center’s top analysts, Leslie Antonowicz, was working for Daybreak. At this point we don’t even know what that really means, whether she was actually in the pay of some Daybreak-related organization or whether she is a believing convert to the Daybreak system of ideas. Ms. Antonowicz is in detention at a secure location.

“My senior researcher, Doctor Arnold Yang, is interrogating her, and I hope within a few days we will know much more about what has been going on, for how long, and how much damage has been done. At this point, however, because she was on our Board, the librarian for our field reporting system, and a senior researcher, and therefore her routine access to information was at such a high level, we have to assume that no communications between RRC and anywhere else—including either the Temporary National Government or the Provisional Constitutional Government—have been secure, since the founding of the RRC. The responsibility for this is entirely mine. I urge that you immediately contact your home offices by your own most secure channels and begin appropriate investigations. I ask your patience while we investigate our own very serious situation. Thank you.”

General Grayson cleared his throat as if to say something, but Cam froze him with a glance, then pulled a file card from his pocket and read, “‘Whereas any agreement on the matters currently in negotiation is absolutely dependent on maintenance of full security, we believe the conference must be canceled for the time being, until RRC is able to show that security is re-established. We expect that this will take a period of weeks or months and therefore will return to the temporary capital at Athens in the TNG District. We regret this necessity and look forward to reconvening at the earliest feasible date.’”

He had that ready to go on his card; he knew.

Graham nodded, pulled out three cards (Heather could see they were in Allie’s all-caps printed scrawl), and selected the one he wanted; he read, “We will be happy to reconvene as soon as security issues are settled, but we do not believe this can be done at any early date, so we are returning to Olympia, where we will await the successful conclusion of the RRC’s investigations.”

And Allie had prepared Graham Weisbrod to go three different ways. Gah. There used to be high school marching bands that had better security than we do.

That afternoon, walking back with James from seeing off the PCG train to Olympia (just twenty minutes after the TNG train to Athens), Heather spotted a newsboy running up the street toward the riverfront. She flagged him down, paid him, and showed James the extra edition of the Pueblo Post-Times . Half the front page was headline:

“This might be the first issue, ever, that I don’t read,” she said. As they walked on they could hear the shouts of “Extra!” in the streets around them.

“I don’t suppose many people will be collecting those,” James said. “Not the way they did the PEACE headline a few months ago.”

After another block, Heather said, “I got all three of your notes about Leslie. James, we all know you’re her most loyal friend. There’s no reason for us to consider you a suspect, but it’s only common sense for us to keep you away from the investigation. And for God’s sake, James, it’s Arnie . Are you expecting him to torture her or something? He’s told me already that he really wants to believe she’s innocent, but she’s not cooperating at all. I know she’s important to you, but what else would you have us do? Now, of course you have to worry. She’s your friend and you don’t think she’s guilty. But I know that if she’s innocent, Arnie Yang will find that out. And I promise, no matter what, you’ll see her again.”

James nodded, said, “Thanks for understanding,” and walked away, hands in his pockets, head down, kicking at the dirt.

He’s thinking, and that’s not as good a thing as it usually is, Heather thought, turning toward her own office door. And I hope he doesn’t realize how likely it is that when he sees Leslie again, it’ll be to sit up with her the night before we hang her.

The big thugly types at the main gate of Castle Castro held their black-powder carbines pointed down. Carlucci had left weapons and deputies at home; he carried three letters. The most important one was from Natalie Thanh, a Federal district judge. Finding that Article IV, Section 4, of the Constitution outlawed hereditary monarchy and any form of feudal aristocracy on American territory, she ordered the League of Southern Castles dissolved, voided all oaths of fealty to the League, and demanded the renunciation of all titles.

Carlucci had had to sell that one to Thanh himself, dusting off his law school education, sitting long nights by a flickering oil lamp, reading dusty law books rescued from basements and attics to put together the pieces of PacTel versus Oregon , Gregory versus Ashcroft , and Forsyth versus Hammond , but he’d made Thanh see it his way.

That letter was important, but the other two that Heather had secured for him, flown down to him by Bambi Castro, were what made it matter. Cameron Nguyen-Peters, NCCC of the Temporary National Government in Athens, Georgia, declared that he would use his emergency powers to enforce Judge Thanh’s decision “as consistent with constitutional restoration.” President Graham Weisbrod of the Provisional Constitutional Government ordered all Federal agents to enforce Judge Thanh’s order “without equivocation or delay.”

As on every other visit to Castle Castro, Carlucci couldn’t help noticing that Castro’s brawny, efficient, uniformed guards were much more impressive than anything Carlucci had across the bay, at what was nominally the FBI’s California HQ and actually around twenty people in a fortified office building.

Once Carlucci had convinced Judge Thanh that he was right, she had suggested that he arrest Harrison Castro under RICO and the 1903 Militia Act. And the cat should be ordered to wear a bell under the Cruelty to Mice Act.

“Okay, they’re answering.” Castro’s guard read the semaphore through his binoculars. “Permit entry, all other checkpoints pre-cleared.” He lowered the binoculars. “Well, there you go; do you still remember the way?”

“Yeah, I lived here for a few weeks last fall,” Carlucci said.

“Some of us hoped things would work out so that the Feds would work with us, and support what we’re trying to do here.”

“You never know what may come,” Carlucci said.

Between Daybreak and Christmas last year, Harrison Castro had admitted a few thousand selected refugees. About three thousand adults had sworn their allegiance to Castle Castro, and brought along maybe four hundred kids. Since then, Castle Castro had taken over about half the old San Diego waterfront, wrapped in concentric rings of zigzag walls. The walls themselves were mostly the rubble of wrecked and pulled-down buildings between chain link and boards, running across streets between intact buildings; the outer walls were more than a mile inland. Wonder if Castro got permission from all those property holders? He used to be very insistent that property rights were the whole basis of civilization… .