“I was a sniper.” That much at least was true.
Burke smiled. “A sniper, eh? That’s interesting.” He glanced at the others briefly and then turned back to Halovic. “See the crooked tree just past that old Dodge? The black willow? Now take a good look just to the left.”
Halovic swung the rifle left slowly, hunting through the scope for the spot the older man had indicated. He stopped as a figure dressed in camouflage fatigues and hunched beside the tree trunk leaped into focus.
He took his eye away from the scope in surprise and glanced at Burke.
“There is a man out there!”
The older man grinned. “Not really.” He nodded downrange. “That’s just a dummy we dressed up. Adds a little kick to the target practice.”
Halovic nodded slowly. “I understand.” Then he allowed a smile to form on his face. “That is much better than shooting at old metal!”
McGowan slapped him on the shoulder. “You got it, Karl!” He tapped the Remington rifle in Halovic’s hands. “That .30–06 is nice, but how about handling something with a little more kick? You know, some real rock-and- roll?”
“Rock-and-roll?” Halovic didn’t have to pretend any confusion this time.
“Yeah. Something that can go off on full auto. Something like this baby.” McGowan held out an assault rifle a weapon the Bosnian recognised as a Chinese-made variant of the old Russian AK-47.
Halovic laid down his .30–06 and took the assault rifle McGowan offered. Although thousands had been sold in the U.S. as semiautomatic weapons, someone had reconfigured this one to allow full-automatic fire. He looked up. “This rifle… isn’t it against your American gun control laws?”
Burke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is private property, Karl. And we’re a long way down the road. So what we do here is our own damned business. Nobody interferes with us. Understand?”
Halovic nodded firmly. “I understand.”
“So let her rip.”
“As you wish.” With the ease born of long practice, the Bosnian flipped the safety off and began shredding a series of targets, walking his fire from right to left as he pumped short bursts into each. In seconds, he’d emptied the thirty-round magazine. He turned to the other men with a broad grin on his face, slapped the AK’s stock with one hand, and exclaimed: “Ausgezeichnet! Very good! A beautiful weapon!”
Burke, McGowan, and Keller were staring openmouthed down the range.
Finally the older man spoke for them all. “Goddamn, Karl! That was some beautiful shooting.” He looked at the row of mangled barrels and torn-up refrigerators again and shook his head in admiration. “Now, that calls for a drink! And for something to eat, by God.”
Galvanized by their leader’s decision, McGowan and Keller hurried to the Blazer and brought back a cooler containing a couple of six-packs, a loaf of bread, condiments, and an assortment of lunch meats. The four of them found shade under a nearby tree and sat back at ease, swapping sandwich fixings and cans of ice-cold beer.
Burke broke the companionable silence first. The burly man brushed the crumbs off his lap, drained his beer can, crumpled it, and tossed it casually aside. “Tony tells me you’ve got some pretty strong views on race problems, Karl. Is that a fact?”
Ah. Now it begins, Halovic thought. He nodded firmly. “That is a fact, Jim.” Then he shrugged. “I know these views are not popular in America, but truth is the truth. The white races all over the world are being buried by a sea of inferiors of blacks, of Jews, of Arabs…”
He was heartened by the other men’s reactions as he continued his often-rehearsed tirade. Burke and McGowan both smiled and nodded as he made his points, dearly pleased by what they were hearing. Even Keller seemed to relax slightly.
Burke nodded sharply again when the Bosnian wound up his peroration with the assertion that “time is short. We must act soon and in force before we are drowned and our race with us.”
The older man pursed his lips. “You’ve sure got that right, Karl.” He scowled. “God only knows the riggers and the rest are getting uppity as hell in this country.”
That brought rumbles of assent from both Keller and McGowan.
Burke took another beer out of the cooler, drank deeply, and began outlining his own extremist views. Not surprisingly, they paralleled those Halovic had just laid out in every significant detail. He seemed delighted to find a kindred spirit from overseas especially from Germany. His two followers chimed in occasionally, but they always deferred to the older man.
They are sheep, Halovic thought with contempt, all the while smiling and nodding himself. They go wherever they are led.
“Are there many others like you over there in Germany, Karl? Men who’re willing to stand up for the white race?” Burke asked at last.
“Yes. Many.” Halovic paused significantly to make sure he had their full attention. “And not just in Germany. There are others like us all over Europe.”
He stabbed at the grass with his finger as he continued. “We are organising. Mobilizing. Arming! We are strong and growing stronger. The moment of truth is drawing near. Soon we shall strike. First in my homeland. And then in the other nations of Europe.”
“Outstanding!” Burke’s enthusiasm, unlike Halovic’s, was wholly unfeigned. He turned to McGowan and Keller. “What’d I tell you boys? We’re not alone in this fight. See, all we’ve got to do is provide some god damned leadership and the pure whites will rise up to join us!”
Halovic took a deep breath. “So you have organisations such as mine here in America?” he asked carefully.
“Hell, yes, Karl!” Burke grinned proudly. “You’re looking at the leader of one of the biggest!”
The Bosnian listened with hidden disdain and open admiration as the older man outlined his plans to “retake” America from its racial and genetic enemies. His wild-eyed schemes a linked series of attacks and assassinations were intended to spark a nationwide rising of the white race. To fire a revolt that Burke believed would be spearheaded by his own fanatical group the “Aryan Sword.”
Madness, Halovic thought coldly. But perhaps he could make it a madness tinged with a tiny grain of truth.
“We don’t have the numbers I’d like. Not yet,” the older American admitted. “But we’re recruiting pretty fast. People around here are waking up to what’s going on.”
“That’s true!” McGowan asserted loyally, backing up his leader. “With the Ramseys, we’ve got fifty-two members counting the kids who’re old enough to carry a gun.”
Halovic tried hard to look impressed. In truth, those numbers were somewhat larger than he’d expected. Under all his drunken bluster, this man Burke must have the charisma needed to draw ignorant and gullible people together under a banner of hate.
He leaned closer to the older man. It was time to make his move. “That is wonderful news. Great news. I had hoped to find a movement of courage here in America. You see, I am here to build an alliance across the seas. The war begins soon and we must fight together side by side against the Jews and the blacks and the rest.”
The Bosnian pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Burke. Titled “The Jewish Plan,” it had been picked up months ago at a white supremacist rally in Maryland by an Iranian agent posing as a journalist. “This was my guide.”
“Jesus! That’s Harry’s pamphlet. I helped him run it off,” McGowan exclaimed in surprise.
The atmosphere changed abruptly. Burke’s face was suddenly a mask, unreadable. Halovic noted that Keller’s hand now rested on the barrel of his rifle. He fought the temptation to reach for his own concealed pistol. He had known that this would be a moment of crisis. By their nature, hate groups like the Aryan Sword were run by secretive, paranoid men. They would not like the notion of a stranger actively searching for them.
He pointed toward the pamphlet still clutched in the older man’s hand.
“This was passed to us in Leipzig,” he lied. “We knew that there were centers of resistance here in America, so I was sent to find them. But I am not alone. Others are looking too in other parts of your country.”
Burke shook his head in evident disbelief, but Halovic could see the excitement bubbling up beneath the older man’s inbred suspicion.
He allowed himself to relax however minutely. Everything was as the mission planners in Tehran had
