Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“He’d use his vast superiority of numbers to encircle his enemy from many miles away; too far to be seen. Then, slowly, he’d move in. The more he’d tighten the noose, so to speak, the stronger and thicker it became. By the time his enemy realized what was happening, it was too late.

“Now, you take our situation. Our enemy is strong and powerful, but they lack numbers. We estimate there’s about one hundred of them around the country; maybe two hundred. It’s hard to tell with them. They don’t advertise or brag about themselves. They seem to come out of nowhere, overwhelm their prey, and vanish as quickly as they appear.” Dennis looked on passively.

“They created the Lightning Squad, you know,” Casimir said. “They were all populists, created to fight the RAC. They developed the strategy of appearing quickly; stealthily. They recruited the toughest and best to be Squad members and leaders. The original guys were the generals—came from the elite units in the army, marines, navy—you know, the Seals, Delta force; shit like that. When the government went broke they were released from the military. A lot of them became mercenary soldiers, fighting for anyone who would hire them; but some, like the Blues, became Populists. They wore blue uniforms with brown trim; the opposite of their foot soldiers, like us, who wear brown uniforms with blue trim.

“They introduced the motorcycle as their principle form of transportation. Motorcycles can go anywhere, unlike cars and trucks. They can fit through narrow lanes; can be off-road. They used only electric vehicles or heavily muffled gas vehicles—they didn’t want to be heard. When they went after somebody they’d appear from three different directions, triangulating their prey. They’d be on top of them before their enemy knew what was happening. They were good, Dennis; too damn good.

“When I took over I stopped their attacks on the RAC. I wanted both forces to work together. I’d command the most powerful paramilitary outfit in the world. I’d run the show, Dennis. I’d be the most powerful man in the country—more powerful than Martinez or the President, but those goddamned Blues wouldn’t cooperate. They just wouldn’t cooperate.”

Dennis was still not sure where this was going. He knew the history of the Lightning Squad. It was part of his training, but he’d never heard it straight from Casimir’s mouth before.

“So I got rid of them. They were too dangerous, but I have a healthy respect for them; which brings us to my point.”

At last , thought Dennis.

“The mistake we’ve been making was going up against the Blues with a few traffic cops. But what we have going for us are numbers. We have over four hundred thousand Squad members and RAC soldiers across the country, and we can use our sheer force of numbers to beat them. I can’t outwit them, but I can use our numbers to encircle them, tighten the noose, and leave the Blues and our Eugene Sulke with no place to go.

“Think of it, Dennis. Wherever Sulke goes a whole bunch of those Blues show up. They watch his house, his parents’ house; and when we stuck him in Hell House they somehow knew he was there, and with lightning action they rescued the brat and burned down our house. You can bet they’re still around Sulke. Now we’re not just going to recapture him, we’re going to capture the whole lot of them.” Casimir was smiling now, and his face brightened further as he continued with his grand idea.

“You see where I’m going now, don’t you, Dennis? We’ve got an opportunity now I never thought I’d live to see. We capture Eugene Sulke and we capture maybe a dozen Blues. We stick them all in Hell Houses and start the Blues again—only, this time, under our control.” Casimir was beaming now.

“I’m putting you in charge of executing the plan. Think of yourself as Genghis Khan.” Now, Jaydan took the piece of paper he was holding and slid it over to Dennis.

It was a budget—a million dollar budget—to be used for recruiting Squad soldiers and necessary resources. “It’s all I could get,” he continued. “I tried to get more money from Martinez, but he’s so tight-fisted. Nevertheless, we can use this money to bribe people at every rest stop, gas station, inn—shit, every place those guys would stop at. They’d just observe and report. Then we use the Lightning Squad to come at them from all different directions—you know, tighten the noose. We’ll overwhelm them with force of numbers, just like Genghis Khan and his Mongol horde. By the time those guys realize what’s happening, it’ll be too late. We’ll have them.

“Now, Dennis, this is all going to take careful planning. I need intelligence: how many there are with Sulke, where they are, what they are driving—shit, everything. Then use the money from our budget as a reward for your recruited spies. Whatever is left from this budget is yours to keep. Furthermore, if you are successful, there’s a twenty-five thousand dollar bonus and a significant promotion. You’ll be way more than a brigade commander. You’ll be my permanent assistant. Are you ready, Dennis?”

“Yes, sir!” Dennis O’Reilly said, beaming.

“Or should I call you Genghis?” Casimir began laughing now. His white teeth gleamed like he just discovered he’d won a million bucks, but then he turned serious. “Don’t let me down, Genghis.”

Dennis returned jubilantly to his office. He took another snort from his flask, this time as a victory swig. Then he started reflecting on his new power and responsibility and felt overwhelmed by it. The more he thought about his task, the more unworkable it seemed to him. Four hundred thousand Squad men surrounding Eugene Sulke and his friends. How much would that cost me? What’s a million divided by four hundred thousand? About two bucks? How can I make this work ? I’m supposed to be this Khan guy and I’m just a Squad leader. Christ ! I’m a traffic cop !

“Commandant, Captain Paoli is on Line three.”

“Casimir here.”

(After a pause), “What is it?”

(A few minutes later), “Jesus Christ. Are you kidding me? What the hell happened, Paoli?”

(After another pause), “Grifton? Oh, for Christ sake.”

(After another minute), “Shit! All right. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Pamela and Eugene were just entering Iowa with Ray and Cassandra behind them. As they drove up to the state border check, Eugene braced for their first encounter. Eugene was given a fake ID with the name Phillip Mulligan from Dearborn, Michigan. He was driving with his sister, Jennifer Mulligan. They were going to visit their sick mother in Idaho.

The first border stop was easy. The northern half of Iowa was neutral territory, and they didn’t care for any of the paramilitary organizations or the need for exit visas, which Pamela had copied onto passports issued by a friend.

No special preparation was made for Ray and Cassandra. If the Squad had sent information that they were wanted, the O’Reilly’s may have had to take drastic action. Ray calmly told the border guard that he was with the Mulligans. The guards motioned them through.

“Do you love me, sweetie?” Catherine said.

“Yes, I love you, my sweets.”

“How much do you love me?”

“I love you more than there are stars in the sky.”

Catherine just smiled and kissed her husband. Gene loved everything about her: the sweet moist warmth of her breath, the feel of her touch, and the lovely clutch of her embrace.