A state of disobedience

'And this means to us? To our plans?'

'It means that that force can go to El Paso and maybe a hundred miles beyond. Maybe less; the supply usage factors have hardly been updated since the Second World War and they are probably unrealistically conservative. In any case, when they run out they stop for lack of gas. Then they die for lack of water. The protesters . . . I should say the police . . . are letting enough water and food through now.'

Carroll, ashen-faced, added, 'It's . . . umm . . . worse than that, Willi. The state has ordered police protection for newspaper editors and other media types. Project Ogilvie is dead in New Mexico . . . dead for now anyway. We're having to beef up efforts in the adjoining states to keep them down.'

Carroll gave a rueful and reluctant smile. ' 'Course, not all the reporters are being too very brave. The state can't protect all of them from us; only the major editors, really. So the reporters are, some of 'em, using bylines like 'Spartacus' and 'Frederick Douglass'—I'm pretty sure I know who that one is. He's black, the treacherous, short- sighted bastard.'

'Shit. Can we switch some police down to New Mexico to disperse the protesters?'

Vega answered, after a fashion, 'Can we? Surely. But what's available? What's available that could do the job? The Surgeon General's Riot Control Police would be . . . umm . . . let's say that faced with armed and organized opposition they would be overtasked. The Presidential Guard could do it. But they're set for a different mission. Willi, I warned you we had to take control of all the law enforcement agencies in the country, to create a true national police. But no, you wouldn't listen.'

'I listened, Jesse. But it wasn't yet time for that.'

'Sure. Well, maybe that's so. But now it is too late. Do you want the PG's to pull off of the Fort Worth mission and go to New Mexico?'

Rottemeyer turned again to McCreavy. 'How quickly can you turn them around once they take the currency facility?'

'And send them to New Mexico? Six hundred miles? A week . . . with luck. It will have to be planned.'

'Okay,' she told McCreavy. 'Start planning.'

To Vega she said, 'They can take care of New Mexico after they take care of Fort Worth.'

* * *

Pickup Zone (PZ) 'Treasure,' Oklahoma

They had armored vehicles. They had other heavy weapons. They had troops, mostly fairly well-trained for their usual missions. They had a logistic and administrative tail.

What the PGSS lacked was helicopters.

Oh, there were a few somewhat plush command and control jobs available . . .  'for the brass,' as they say. But as far as moving any substantial number of Treasury agents (for they carefully preserved the fiction that they were merely agents of the public fisc)?

None.

For this, they needed the Army. And the Army duly and dutifully complied by sending down nearly half the 101^st aviation group out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, that half being somewhat reinforced by the helicopters of the 160^th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, at one time known as Task Force 160.

And yet using helicopters is not something that comes naturally to a military organization. True, some of the PGSS had previous military experience working with choppers. And yet many did not. As organizations, none of its battalions had any.

* * *

Austin, Texas

Juanita pointed to the helicopter idling on the pad beneath her office window. 'And I told you, Jack, I will never get on one of those things again. No. Not. Ever. Never.'

'Oh, Juani, be realistic, would you? You're expected in Fort Worth here shortly. The troops are standing by,' Schmidt cajoled.

The governor answered with a grimace, 'I know, I know. But, Jack I just can't. I . . . I wet myself when I saw those bullets—'tracers' you called them?—fly by. You have no idea . . .' Suddenly nonplussed, Juani stopped. She knew that Schmidt had a very good idea of what it was like to be in a helicopter someone was shooting at.

Still, no crybaby was Juanita. Even as her lip began to quiver, she admitted, 'All right, all right. So you have an idea. But, Jack, I was never so terrified in my life.'

Schmidt lifted one inquisitorial eyebrow. 'You think those men in the currency facility aren't terrified, too, Juani? But they're there anyway doing what they have to. So now you, Governor, need to do what you have to. In this case that means following me downstairs, getting on that helicopter; closing your eyes and pissing yourself if you have to, to see those men who are going to die for you.'

Juani's own eyes widened in horror. 'Oh, no. Don't say that. Don't say they're going to die, let alone that they're going to die for me. I can't bear that idea.'

'And it won't be any easier after you meet them, I know. But you have to. So come on. Now.'

Finally, with reluctance bordering on terror, the governor agreed.

'And don't sweat it so much,' said Schmidt. 'Security here is pretty good, really. And I've already arranged for escorts going both ways. They may know where you are when we take off. They won't know, generally, where you're going. And on the way back we can take any old route we need to.'

* * *