James Rawles - Founders

Whenever Andy needed to copy a file from his laptop at the brigade headquarters, he would use a third Ironkey drive that he kept in a hidden compartment beneath a drawer in his office desk, or he would remove one of the other Ironkey drives from the SIG magazine while in a restroom stall. The same compartment in his desk held a Panasonic Lumix ultracompact digital camera that he used on the rare occasions when he needed to photograph a map or a piece of equipment. He kept a cable at home that allowed him to transfer the images to Kaylee’s laptop and then in turn to a thumb drive.

Andy would have preferred to have used all Ironkey drives, but because the courier runs were so frequent and one-way, he had to rely on less-secure standard thumb drives. Andy always kept a can of WD-40 lubricant on his desk. After writing files to thumb drives for Kaylee to deliver to the couriers, he would give each of them a squirt of WD-40. He had read that this coating made it almost impossible for them to retain fingerprints that could be lifted.

As Andy became accustomed to his brigade staff job, he consciously reminded himself to avoid making friends with other officers on the brigade staff. As General Olds put it, “Friends mean confidences and confidences are always risks.” Because he spoke some German, he was popular with the German officers. But Andy consistently turned down offers to attend social functions with them. He said, accurately, that he liked spending all his free time with his wife. The other officers seemed to take this at face value, and didn’t take offense.

Deep down, Andy was glad that he didn’t get to know any of the German or Dutch officers well. He reasoned that if all went well, he’d be part of deporting them in less than a year. And for all he knew, he might even be gunning for them.

Andy and Kaylee Laine’s espionage activities were very stressful, particularly to Andy. He constantly felt like he was playing a role in a stage play. He had to control his facial expressions when attending briefings or when reading dispatches. For him to even display the slightest pleasure at the news of an UNPROFOR setback might unmask him. He had nagging fears of being detected. His dreams were a tangle of what he called “bad scenes”: getting caught with classified documents, being arrested and beaten, being tortured. He often resorted to taking a couple of valerian root capsules at bedtime to help him sleep.

It was Kaylee who helped him keep his balance. They had long, cathartic talks about the happenings in the brigade and even global politics. Andy was certain that if Kaylee weren’t with him at Fort Knox, he wouldn’t be able to handle the stress that he was under.

Ed Olds was cautious about security for his intelligence team. They never met in groups of more than three, and in fact none of them except Olds himself knew the names of all of the members. Whenever he had to mention another team member, he would use euphemistic names like “Mister Black,” “Mister Green,” “Our man in the administration,” “Our man in the Signal Corps,” or “Our man in the G2 Shop.” He was so consistent about using the “Mister” and “Our man” monikers that Andy did not learn until years later that there were two women in his intelligence-gathering cell.

Many of Andy’s surreptitious meetings with Olds were during morning PT sessions, or after-hours at Olds’s home, while his DVD player played a science fiction movie with the volume turned up loud. Ed Olds was a serious sci-fi fan, with more than seventy movies and television series in his collection. Andy feigned being a science fiction devotee to explain his frequent visits to the general’s quarters.

One of their key conversations came when they discussed endgame strategies for the war of resistance. General Olds stated forthrightly, “I’ve concluded that the ProvGov and the UN peacekeepers are doomed, for four reasons. First, as we’ve discussed before, they’ve overextended their reach and have thereby spread their forces too thin. Second, they are being confronted by a guerrilla army of resistance that is leaderless, so it cannot be isolated and eliminated. Third, like the Nazis in World War II, they’ve embarked on a campaign of mass arrests and reprisal killings, which is alienating any support that they might have once enjoyed. And lastly, they’ve attempted to disarm the populace. That is an idiotic and futile endeavor.”

“I agree that their goal is futile,” Andy said. “Before the Crunch, we were a nation of, as I recall, around 328 million people, with around 250 million guns. There were 4.5 million guns manufactured each year, but meanwhile fewer than one million guns were worn out, exported, or melted down in those stupid ‘turn in your gun for concert tickets’ programs. Who would be so moronic as to trade their birthright for a gift certificate from Toys-R-Us? But now, after the big die-off, we are a nation of perhaps 100 million people, still with around 250 million guns. There is absolutely no way that we’ll ever be disarmed. From a demographic standpoint, the ProvGov is so outnumbered and so outgunned that it’s almost comical. The handwriting is on the wall.”

Near Sedona, Arizona

May, the Fourth Year

Ignacio García’s looter gang, La Fuerza, had gone mobile just as the Crunch began, cutting a swath from near Houston, west across Texas, through southern New Mexico and Arizona. García’s gang had specialized in invading small towns and stripping them clean. One of their trademarks was using armored cars, both former bank transport armored cars, and wheeled military surplus armored personnel carriers (APCs). At its peak, García’s looter gang was a small army, numbering 212 with fifty-three vehicles.

La Fuerza was quite successful until they reached the vicinity of Prescott, Arizona. There, a group of local citizens bolstered by a small contingent from New Mexico carried out a daring nighttime raid on Humboldt and Dewey, Arizona, with Molotov cocktail firebombs, destroying all of their armored vehicles and half of their unarmored ones. In the raid forty-four of the gang members were killed or wounded.

A retaliatory raid on Prescott—in which nearly every building in the city was burned—cost the lives of another forty-seven gang members. Soon after that, seven members left the gang. They stole away in the night, in two groups.

North of Williams, Arizona

June, the Fourth Year

Three weeks after burning Prescott, Ignacio decided to cache all his precious metals and gemstones. With just his wife and his trusted lieutenant, Tony, he drove four miles off Highway 64 into federally owned rangeland that his maps showed was administered by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).

They found a rusted abandoned tractor frame that looked like it had been there for more than fifty years to use as a landmark. He wrote down the GPS coordinates. Then he stretched a piece of twine from the tractor’s steering column to a large, distinctive boulder 100 feet away. With a tape measure he measured exactly forty feet down the string from the tractor and scratched a large X on the ground with the tip of a digging bar. They brought a pick and two shovels from the pickup and started to dig.