“Those troops that have been quietly moving into position all around us?”
“Yeah. He’s blocked us from helping the Indians. He’ll take them out first.” He looked at Salina. “Salina… I want you to get out of here, up into Canada. You’re five months pregnant; by the time Logan moves against us, you’ll be too fat to wobble, much less run. I—”
“What do you mean, fat! I resent that. I think I’m having a rather slim, beautiful pregnancy.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Salina…?”
“No, Ben. I stay with you. End of discussion.”
He knew further argument would be futile. He called for Pal and Cecil and Ike and others, telling them of the news, and of his suspicions.
“I agree,” Pal said. “I’ll put the country on low alert.”
“You’ll have to stay behind, Pal—both of us can’t be gone at the same time,” Ben said. “When I return, I’ll go on the air with Logan’s conditions. We’ll leave it up to the people.”
“They’ll never accept anything other than what we have,” Cecil said.
“Yes,” Ben said. “I know.”
They all left, leaving Ben with his thoughts.
Badger had been waiting in the outer office, as usual. When the group left, he strolled in without announcement, as usual.
“What’s up, General?”
“Want to go to Richmond next Monday?”
“Not really. I like it here. But if you go, I go.”
Ben laughed. “Badger, one thing I’ve always admired about you is your bubbling enthusiasm.”
Badger sat down, cradling his AK-47 across his knees. “Yes, sir,” he said solemnly.
The three jets, formerly corporation jets—state airplanes, now—flew in formation toward Richmond. In the center jet were Ben and Salina, Cecil and Lila, Ike, Voltan, Steven, and Badger. In the other jets rode two teams of Rebels. Ben’s personal teams. Eighteen men and six women.
All regular Rebels were good at their jobs, experts, but these twenty-four were among the best—or worst, depending upon one’s point of view. They were, for the most part, silent as they blasted through the air, for to a person, they all knew war was just around the corner.
At the field in Richmond, they were met by VP Addison, several aides, and a dozen secret service agents. Ben suspected there might be a full brigade of troops lurking about the airport, and that thought amused him. He shook hands with VP Addison and grinned.
“No brass bands playing? No red carpet? No throngs of cheering people?” Ben asked. “My, you people don’t like me very much, do you?”
The VP stared into Ben’s eyes. “I don’t like what Logan has planned, Raines. It wasn’t my idea.”
“I know it. And that will be kept in mind.”
A half-hour later, they pulled into the drive of the new White House. The weather was dismal in Richmond, and Ben didn’t expect Logan’s welcome to be much better.
Badger stepped out first. “Wait here, sir,” he said to Ben. The bodyguard walked up the steps of the White House and stationed himself beside one of the huge pillars. The secret service men on duty held their hands away from their sides, to show him they had no intention of reaching for a gun.
“Just keep that thing on safety,” they requested.
Badger nodded.
Standing beside the limousines, an aide muttered, “The president is not going to be terribly thrilled about that man and his machine gun.” He glanced at Ben. “What do you think is going to happen, sir? Do you believe we’re planning an ambush, or something?”
Ben looked at the aide. Without smiling, he said, “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
A piece of old verse popped into Ben’s head:
“Some gate,” Ben muttered.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” an aide asked.
Ben shook his head and walked up the steps.
SEVEN
The visitors from the Tri-states were ushered into the White House, taken upstairs, and seated in the president’s office. The contingent of Rebels remained downstairs, having coffee and chatting with the secret service agents; both groups attempted to make the best of a nervous situation.
The press was very much in force, snapping pictures and asking questions.
Logan made his entrance, strolling in all smiles and cordiality. The head of the Joint Chiefs was with him. Ben immediately distrusted the general. Russell had been a major in Vietnam; a politicking, ass-kissing coward.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Logan smiled. “Welcome to the White House. So nice to see all of you.”
And if you expect us to believe that, Salina thought, you’re a bigger fool than you look. But she smiled in return.
Ben shook hands with Logan and smiled a grim smile at General Russell. The two men immediately understood each other’s position; Ben realized that while America had a president, Logan shared the power with the military. Ben knew then why free elections had been postponed year after year. The military was setting up to take over total control of America. The rumors his intelligence people had intercepted and decoded were true. But Ben also knew there was discord among the military; not all commanders wanted the military involved in government, and the troops were taking sides… quietly.
The silent message in General Russell’s eyes was easy to read: Play along with me, Raines. Take my side.
Ben minutely shook his head and the general smiled and fired a silent dispatch: You’ve had it, Raines.
Ben returned his unspoken reply: When you try, General—you’re a dead man.
The messages concluded, there were a few moments of small talk about nothing at all until Mrs. Fran Logan gushed in, all smiles and southern hospitality, for everyone except Ben. She was very cool to Ben. She hesitated for just the smallest second before shaking hands with Cecil (it rubs off, you know), but then breeding took over and she gallantly took the offered hand, fighting back an impulse to wipe hers on her dress. A few moments later, the ladies left, much to the disgust of Salina and Lila. In the Tri-states, all government meetings were open.
“Gentlemen,” Logan said, “we have a great deal to discuss—shall we get on with it?” Without waiting for an answer, he ordered coffee sent in. There was quiet in the large room until the aide poured the coffee and left. General Russell stood across the room, away from the seated party from the Tri-states.
“If you wish to rejoin the Union, Raines,” Logan said, “it can be arranged.”
I just bet it can, Ben thought. “What’s the catch?”
Logan smiled and General Russell laughed aloud. The president said, “Absolutely no diplomat in you whatsoever, right, Ben?”
“Lack of diplomacy is just one of my many virtues. I’ll ask again: What is the catch?”
“Straight from the hip?”
“Shoot.”
“Your dictatorship has to end.”
“There is no dictatorship in the Tri-states. I was elected by popular vote.”
Logan waved away his words as if they had not been spoken. “You must fall in line with the other forty-
