A state of disobedience

One of the more notable aspects of the many new police which the Rottemeyer Administration had put on America's 'streets' was the extremely 'issue oriented' nature of those police. A precise breakdown would, of course, be impossible as some of these 'police' fell into the secret variety.

But of those which were not secret? Their organizations, parent organizations and missions read as a litany of left leaning and outright leftist causes. Besides the Surgeon General's Riot Control Police—the mission of which was to make profits safe for abortionists—there were the Animal Rights Police, existing to make the world unsafe for purveyors of female cosmetics, the Internal Revenue Service's 'Enforcement Arm'—for when the courts took a dim view of legalized extortion, and—notably—the 'Raid Command' of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms— whose mission needed no restatement. Then there were the Environmental Protection Police which, within a couple of years of Rottemeyer's election, made it clear to would-be polluters that one could either follow the government's stringent environmental policies . . . or contribute heavily to the Democratic National Committee.

It went almost without saying that the PGSS, whose mission was the protection of Rottemeyer and the enforcement of her precise will, had a leftist cause all their own.

The one thing each of these agencies shared was that none of them were composed, strictly speaking, of police officers, of the simple constables of the peace that made civilized life possible. Snipers there were aplenty. Riot control trained thugs were in no shortage. But of men and women who could make a bad situation better, deal with people—sometimes angry ones—temper justice with a trace of mercy? These were vanishingly rare.

The people with whom they dealt generally despised them as police as much as the armed forces tended to despise them in their manifestation as soldiers.

'You people aren't soldiers and you aren't much as far as being cops goes. So stay the hell out of our people's way while we move into the city.' Those were the last words the Commander of the 18^th Airborne had given to the Chief of the EPP before his soldiers began to fan out into Houston.

* * *

Perhaps it was because a hooker had no time to be shy. Perhaps it was that her loss was too profound even for a shy girl to keep hidden. Whatever it was, the girl soon had the crowd eating out of her hand. She wept? Then they wept too. She showed her pain and her anger? The crowd growled with their own. She was such a success that Charlesworth was moved to whisper, 'When this is over, Elpi, remind me to link you up with my agency.'

Elpi had just finished speaking—Charlesworth had coached the untrained girl very thoroughly—when the first of the 3^rd Infantry Divisions armored vehicles were spotted turning a corner into the Galleria. A thrill of anxious worry ran through the crowd.

As Charlesworth pulled Elpi to one side, the side where Minh stood by to help her escape when the time came, he said, 'Be calm, my friends, be calm. These are just our soldiers. At heart, most of them are on our side. They feel about Washington as most of us do.' A soldier—a sergeant with a nametag that read 'Soult'—standing upright in a passing armored vehicle looked at Charlesworth and gave a soft thumbs up. He was not alone.

'Elpidia here has told you of what it was like from her point of view at the Dei Gloria. Now I want to remind you that there is yet another group, a third Alamo, if you will, making their stand up in Fort Worth. . . .'

* * *

Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas

The damage from the first fight had mostly been cleared; cleared, that is, to the extent it hadn't been added to in the interests of defense.

From one of the twin rectangular projections atop the main building, Major Williams gazed through binoculars eastward to Interstate 35.

'That's the First Cav passing through,' he told Pendergast, standing next to him. 'I think it is anyway. None of the tracks are flying Cav guidons. You suppose they are ashamed?'

'Dunno, sir. Might be.'

Overhead another of the seemingly endless flights of Army helicopters passed by, bringing in another load of PGSS.

Williams looked upward. 'How many is that now?' he asked.

Pendergast answered, 'How many troops? About seven thousand would be my guess. I didn't know Rottenmuncher had that many in her private army.'

'There's a lotta things about her people didn't know when she was running, Sergeant Major. Maybe more things she kept secret after she won.'

Pendergast shrugged. Well, too late to do anything about that now.

A single shot rang out. To Pendergast it sounded like a .50 caliber. To a Guardsman standing just to Pendergast's left it didn't sound like anything at all . . . for it killed him instantaneously.

'Down! Goddammit, down!'

And so it begins again, Pendergast thought, as a steady spattering of rifle fire began to pelt the facility.

* * *

Houston, Texas

'Just come on, girl, forget the old man,' Minh demanded of Elpi, he and a henchmen dragging her by each arm. The girl twisted and struggled to turn around and go back to stand beside Charlesworth in his hour of need, the hour which was possibly his final one. She struggled, but fruitlessly; for all his age and tiny stature the former Vietcong was still much stronger.

Even as they hustled Elpi through some merchant's doors, Minh looked behind him with a certain amount of satisfaction. Like some mindless colony of killer ants the EPP were wading into the crowd, beating, breaking,