Уильям Дитц - Into the Guns

“Please,” Perez said as she gestured to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

Sloan sat next to Rankin. His thoughts whirled as his brain struggled to assimilate the information he’d been given—and apply it to the situation that he found himself in. He was still attempting to sort things out when Rankin spoke. “I’m sorry, Sam… Please allow me to explain… After we lost the president, Congress, and what’s estimated to be 30 million people, everything ground to a halt.

“And don’t forget… The Pentagon was destroyed as well… So even though some senior officers survived, they were scattered around the country and lacked a central command structure. That led to disagreements. And while they squabbled, bases like Fort Bragg in North Carolina, Pendleton in California, and JBLM in Washington State were overrun by heavily armed gangs.

“Meanwhile, Vice President Wainwright was sworn in as president. And within a matter of days, she began to put forth reconstruction plans that would not only bankrupt the nation but override state’s rights and restrict personal freedoms.”

“She wanted to implement gun-control laws,” Huxton put in. “She claimed it was a way to combat lawlessness, but that’s ridiculous. You’ve read the papers; you know what’s going on. If citizens don’t defend themselves, no one will.”

Sloan had read the papers and now he knew why he’d been allowed to do so. Huxton and his cronies had been well aware of the fact that he was next in line for the presidency, and had been keeping him on a shelf in case he might come in handy! And in the wake of President Wainwright’s death, they were dusting him off. Not only that, but according to what he’d read, Huxton was correct. For the moment anyway. There was a lot of lawlessness, and millions of people were on their own. So Wainwright’s push for gun control had been premature.

“So,” Huxton continued, “that’s why we , which is to say a group of about thirty people in and out of government, have been trying to assemble a substitute government here in the South. One that is better equipped to deal with things the way they really are. But before we pull the trigger on that effort, we thought it would be a good idea to have a chat with you. Now, I reckon you’re pissed… And I get that. I would be, too. But, if you can put the anger aside, you’ll see that there’s an opportunity here. An opportunity to lead the nation back to greatness. But we need the right man.”

“That’s right,” Governor Perez said. “No offense, Mr. Sloan, but the people haven’t had a chance to vote for you. So, even though you inherited the presidency—you may or may not be the right man for the job.”

There it was. A clear declaration of intent. The people seated at the table were going to vet him. Never mind the fact that they had no legal right to do so. And if they didn’t like what he said? No problem. They were the only people who knew that he was alive. “I see,” Sloan replied. “So tell me about ‘the right man.’ What would he be like?”

“That’s a good question,” Huxton replied. “The right man would take a look around and realize that while the highly centralized federal government crumbled, the corporate infrastructure survived. Why? Because it was more self-sufficient, widely dispersed, and better met the needs of the people. And the right man would not only take inspiration from that—he’d build a new government based on the principles of personal initiative and responsibility. Or, put another way, he would create a new order for a new reality.”

The last phrase would have been perfect on a bumper sticker—and Sloan got the feeling that the planning Rankin had referenced was pretty far along. “I think you’ll agree that the devil is in the details,” Sloan temporized. “How would the new government work?”

“Shareowners would own the country,” Huxton replied. “And each shareowner would express his or her wishes by voting the number of shares they happen to own.”

“Everyone would receive a hundred shares off the top,” Rankin explained, “and could sell them, or buy more in a free market.”

Sloan looked from face to face. “Does that include corporations?”

“Of course it does,” Perez answered. “Corporations are people… The Supreme Court made that clear.”

“I see,” Sloan said. “Aren’t you afraid that corporations, and the oligarchs who own them, will seize control of the new order by acquiring millions of shares?”

Huxton shrugged. “The free market will rule… Everyone who chooses to participate will receive annual dividends they can spend on the services they believe are most important. And by voting their shares in blocks, lesser shareowners can still have a significant impact on what happens.”

Sloan felt a rising sense of anger. Not only was the plan illegal… The conspirators were planning to seize control of the country for their own benefit! “So the right man will serve as a front for the new order?” he demanded. “A democratic face for the largest power grab in history?”

Huxton made a snorting sound as his eyes swung around. “It’s just like I told you… Sloan is one of them . We’re wasting our time.”

“Is that right?” Rankin demanded. “Are we wasting our time?”

Sloan paused to consider it. Maybe they were correct… Maybe some sort of structure was better than none. And, if he was part of the new order, he could work to change it from the inside. But his inner voice refused to go along. What a load of crap! They won’t listen to you… They’ll tell you what to say—and you’ll be forced to say it.

Sloan knew the voice was correct—and knew what had to be said. “Yes, you’re wasting your time. If I’m the president, then it’s my duty to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. And by that I mean the one written in 1787, not a new constitution intended to further the interests of the wealthy.”

Lemaire broke the ensuing silence. “You’re one stupid son of a bitch,” he said contemptuously.

Sloan heard a noise and turned to see the security men enter the room. How they had been summoned wasn’t clear. “Put Mr. Sloan on the chopper,” Huxton ordered, “and take him back to the Belle Marie . We’ll figure out what to do with him later.”

The words had an ominous quality, and Sloan rose from his chair. “Don’t bother,” Flattop said. “Unless you want to feel a lot of pain.”

“Extend your wrists,” Short Guy instructed, and Sloan had no choice but to obey. The cuffs felt cold as they came into contact with his flesh. It would have been a good time to say something cool, but the best he could do was try to keep the fear from showing and resist the temptation to beg. Sloan heard one of the conspirators laugh as he was led away.

Once they were out in the reception area, Sloan was forced to board the same elevator he’d ridden before. And by the time they reached the roof, the Huey was ready to depart.

The helicopter took off, banked away from the skyscraper, and flew east. All Sloan could do was let the slipstream buffet his face as the ground sped by below. The landscape was dry at first. But that began to change roughly twenty minutes later as the aircraft flew over part of the Piney Woods that covered most of east Texas. Eventually, the trees surrendered to the streams, rivers, and bayous that bordered the state of Louisiana. That was when the aircraft began to lose altitude and continued to do so until it was flying just above the treetops. Channels passed by below, as did stagnant ponds and small lakes.

Where was the Belle Marie ? Five or ten minutes ahead? Yes, and once aboard, Sloan knew he would never have a chance to escape.