William Johnstone - Fire in the Ashes

“How old was the girl?” Aston asked.

Linda cleared her throat. “Ah… eleven.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“A very mature eleven,” she added.

“The others?” Aston asked.

“More or less the same tactics; some got rougher than others. Senator Borne’s wife was raped right in front of him—in their living room!” Senator Milton said. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a large handkerchief and said, “His daughters would have been next had he not agreed to go along with Lowry.” The man sighed. “This is movie stuff, right out of Hollywood. Or, when Hollywood existed, that is. It just doesn’t happen in real life. That’s what we all thought. Larry Barwell came to me last week, after I confronted him outside the chambers and called him a traitor. He came to my house, crying. They…”

“Goddamnit!” Aston snapped at the man. “Stop using they. Who the hell is they?"

Anguish shone in Milton’s eyes. “Cody’s men. Hartline’s men. Lowry’s agents. God, Aston, we’re trying.”

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Aston patted the man’s arm. “I really am. I didn’t mean to snap. Go on.”

“They… those men—they threatened to, this is embarrassing… sexually abuse Larry if he didn’t cooperate. You know what I mean, Aston.”

The president sat down in a chair, his face was almost gray. “I get the picture. How did you people withstand the pressure?”

“I guess Lowry’s men just didn’t need us. They had enough votes to do things their way without us,” Representative Essex replied. “I’m glad they didn’t get to us. I’ll be honest with you, Aston: I don’t know what I would have done.”

Aston shook his head. “I can’t blame any of the men and women for doing what they did—under that kind of pressure. Well, at least you all have cleared up some matters this afternoon.”

“Aston,” Senator Poulson leaned forward. “Let’s take it to the military, lay it on the line for them. Ask them to move in and forcibly toss Lowry and his people out.”

Aston shook his head. “I thought of that. I even called in the Joint Chiefs and approached them with it. They laid it out for me. And the figures were disturbing. You all know how small our military is. Combining all the services, Cody’s FBI, Hartline’s mercenaries, and, all the federalized cops more than triple the size of the military. And that’s not even counting the National Guard and reserve units, plus the regular units of the military who would be loyal to Lowry or Cody. No, I think we have only one hope.”

“And that is,” Senator Henson asked.

“Ben Raines,” the president reluctantly replied.

“Ben,” Ike walked up to him, smiling. “I think we got a break in this.”

“It’s about time. Put it on me, pal.”

Both men winced at Ben’s use of the noun. Ike sighed. “Yeah, Ben—he was a friend of mine, too.”

Ben and Juno were in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas. Ben had relaxed by fishing in the late afternoon sun, catching more fish than he could possibly use, but having so much fun he was hesitant to quit. He had cleaned them and was about to cook them on his portable Coleman stove when Juno growled low in his chest.

“We’re friendly.” The voice came out of the brush. “I have some children with me.”

“Come on in,” Ben said, keeping one hand on the butt of his pistol.

A black man and woman with several kids in tow walked up to the cabin porch. The man stuck out his hand. “Pal Elliot.” He smiled his introduction. “This is Valerie. And these,” he pointed to the kids, “in order, starting with the oldest, are Bruce, Linda, Sue, and Paul.”

Two blacks, one Oriental, one Indian.

Ben shook the offered hands and smiled at the kids. “Ben Raines.” He sat down on the porch and motioned for the others to do the same. “You folks live around here?”

Pal smiled. “No, just passing through. Like a lot of other people. I was an airline pilot, based in L.A. Valerie was a model in New York City. We met about seven months ago, I think it was.”

“Six months ago,” she corrected him with a smile. “We picked up the kids along the way. Found them wandering.”

“No children of your own?” Ben asked.

“No. But he did.” She looked at Pal. “Lost his whole family. You?”

Ben shook his head. “I was—am—a bachelor. Lost my brothers and sisters and parents.” He grimaced in the fading light.

“Memories still painful?” Pal asked.

“No, not really. One brother made it out—up in Chicago. Suburbs, actually. We met… had a falling out.”

“Carl Raines?” Pal asked.

“That’s the man.”

“We passed through that area,” Valerie said. “Very quickly. It was… unpleasant.”

“Well, folks,” Ben stood up, rubbing his hands together. “How about staying for dinner? I have plenty of fish.”

“We’d like that,” they said together.

“I knew I’d heard that name somewhere,” Pal said. It was evening in the mountains. The air was soft with warmth, the lake shimmering in the moonlight, shining silver with ripples of moving chalk on the surface. The children played Rook in the den of the cabin; the adults sat on the porch, smoking and talking and drinking beer. “’Way you write, hard law and order, I had to think you were a racist—at first. Then you did some other books that had me confused about your reasoning. What is your political philosophy, Ben? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

“No, I don’t mind. I… think I was rapidly becoming very apolitical, Pal; pretty damned fed up with the whole system. I did a couple of books about it. I was fed up with the goddamned unions asking for more money than they were worth—trying, in many instances, to dictate policy to the government. I was very sick of crime with no punishment, weary of the ACLU sticking their noses into everybody’s business. Oh… don’t get me started, Pal. Besides, as a young lady once told me, not too long ago, it’s all moot now, anyway.”

“Is it, Ben?” Pal asked. “What about Logan?”

Ben chuckled. “Our president-we-didn’t-elect? Yeah, I know. I gather you folks aren’t responding to his orders to relocate?”

“Logan can take his relocation orders and stick them up his nose,” Valerie said. “I never did like that man; didn’t trust him.”

Megan’s words.

“I shall live,” she continued, “where I damned well choose to live.”

Ben told them of Ike and Megan; of New Africa and what the government planned to do. And then he told them, just touching on it, of the idea that was in his mind—to get their reactions.

They were both excited. “Are you serious with this, Ben?” Pal inquired, leaning forward.

“Yes, I suppose I am. I know I am. I’ve been resisting it for months. I didn’t believe Americans would follow Logan’s orders, falling blindly in line like lemmings to the sea. You two have witnessed it?”

Pal nodded. “Yes. Several times during the past few months. People are being forced to relocate, many of them against their will.”

“You were going to tour the country, write about it?” Valerie asked.

“Was,” Ben said. “You people?”

“The kids have to have schooling,” Pal replied, giving voice to both their thoughts. “And I’m told a man named Cecil Jefferys and his wife, Lila, are really doing some fantastic things down in Louisiana.”

“I just told you what Logan plans to do about New Africa,” Ben reminded them.

“Maybe it won’t happen.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“No,” Pal said quietly. “I suppose not. White people have always been fearful of an all-black nation, whether you will admit it or not. But I suppose we have to try. I have a master’s in science; Valerie, a master’s in business. They are going to need teachers.”