your evaluation of anything. I say let’s keep her on the team.”
“Here we are, Colonel,” Bentley said as the elevator reached the fourteenth floor. “Room 1426, to the right. Agent Samuels should already be here.”
Bentley knocked on the door, and Samuels opened it immediately.
“Good afternoon, Colonel Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said.
Pug shook hands with the man, guessing Samuels was approximately his own age. “Let’s start off informally, what say?” Pug said. “I’ll be Pug and you be Al. Or would you prefer Alfred?”
“Al will do fine, Colonel, and my partner is Nicole, Nicky, or sometimes Annie Oakley, when she outshoots me on the pistol range,” Samuels said, chuckling.
“Just Nicole, please,” Bentley said, offering her hand again to Pug. “Don’t mind Al. It sticks in his craw that my shooting seems to, uh, be a bit more accurate.” She smiled.
“I’d prefer we work by first names, if that doesn’t violate FBI protocol.”
“No, uh,” Samuels said, “we’ve kind of developed our own protocol on this assignment. By the way, Judge Granata just called and said he’s about ten minutes out. And Pug, please don’t be offended if we refer to Judge Granata as ‘Director.’ The casual atmosphere only goes so far, if you know what I mean.”
“Absolutely, Al,” Pug laughed. “Ten minutes until Director Granata arrives, you say?”
“That’s what he said just a couple of minutes ago.”
“Well, then. I think I’ll use the bathroom to shave and clean up a bit. That was a long flight.”
“How about some lunch when you finish?” Nicole asked.
“Great. A club sandwich and a lemonade or a Sprite, if you please.”
Judge Granata was, in fact, nearly forty-five minutes late, giving Pug ample time to shower, change clothes, and have a bite to eat. When Granata did arrive, the four of them immediately launched into a review of the militia activity that had occurred during the previous twelve months.
Pug shook his head. “These guys have clearly stepped over the line, and certainly they’ve gone out on a limb, claiming responsibility for murdering federal judges. But do you actually believe they consider themselves involved in open warfare with the United States government?”
“Clearly, the core leadership does,” Judge Granata said, nodding. “But it’s not as farfetched as it seems at first glance. Let Samuels and Bentley update you further. Though the president’s idea to form an independent investigative task force was new, you’ll be pleased to know you won’t have to start from scratch. The FBI has been on this issue since before the first referendum. We’ve compiled quite a file.”
“That’s what Agent Samuels was telling me before you arrived.”
“Agents Samuels and Bentley will be your direct link with my office. For about eighteen months this has been their sole assignment-investigation of the northern California militia groups. They’ve compiled dossiers on the leadership and have uncovered some very interesting linkage. What you don’t know, and it’s still restricted information outside of this group, is that they’ve an undercover FBI operative inside the Shasta Brigade. Through him, we understand that more bank robberies are planned. We’re hoping our insider can provide more detailed information on timing so we can stake out a few of the likely targets.”
“Do you have any other inside intelligence sources?” Pug asked.
“Agent Bentley can answer that question, Colonel,” Al Samuels said. “She’s had primary responsibility for membership and background.”
“None, unfortunately, Colonel Connor, at least no one else inside the brigade,” Nicole responded. “We do, however, have a fairly complete membership list of the organization-that’s included in what I gave you in the car. At last count, about a hundred and twenty-five fully active members, with maybe thirty hard-core, experienced military types. Of course, total membership is probably five times that number, but most of those have no idea how involved the units are in these killings and robberies.”
Pug leaned back, resting his arms on the side of the paisley lounge chair.
“Nicole, in my experience with foreign groups, thirty dedicated, capable men, or women for that matter, can cause a vast amount of devastation.”
Nicole nodded and looked toward Samuels.
“That would hold true in this case, too, Colonel. Nicole?” he said, nodding for her to continue.
“Colonel, this secession issue, as Director Granata indicated, goes much deeper than anyone had imagined. Popular support exists, make no mistake, and in fact is still growing, but we have reason to believe that someone, or, more likely a group of people, have infiltrated the system in California and have rigged the elections.”
Nicole paused, allowing Pug time to reflect on the magnitude of her statement. Judge Granata and Al Samuels sat silently. When Pug didn’t react, waiting instead for her to continue, Nicole looked at the judge, puzzled.
Pug leaned forward in his chair. “People, let’s get something straight. Ms. Bentley,” he said, looking directly at her, “you, Agent Samuels, and Director Granata should not assume that I am so naive as to be astonished by any revelation that might come forth from an investigation of this sort. Terrorists and fanatics of the kind we’re dealing with here are willing to do virtually anything to further their cause. If we didn’t know that before Oklahoma City and the
Granata settled back into his chair, a sly grin beginning to form on his face. Pug continued speaking.
“The lengths to which unscrupulous men will go to gather wealth and power no longer surprises me, and that someone has seen fit to invade the sanctity of the polling booth should surprise none of you, either. It’s been done for centuries, usually to ensure the election of a specific person. But in this case, it seems clear that a clandestine group has reason to think that if California were a separate and distinct nation, they would benefit. This movement to secede certainly isn’t just because people are fed up with Congress wanting to stick its fingers into everyone’s pie-even though we all know that’s
Pug paused as Agent Bentley, Al Samuels, and Judge Granata began to smile, looking occasionally at each other and then back at Pug. Finally, Judge Granata broke the silence.
“I would like to think that I always knew, but now perhaps, Agents Samuels and Bentley, you can also understand why the president selected Colonel Connor to head this task force.”
“Thank you, Judge. Now tell me,” Pug said, looking back at Nicole. “What makes you think fraudulent elections have been involved in this process?”
“Following the first advisory election last year, we investigated the death of the director of the California elections office from what appeared to be a drug overdose. At first glance it was clearly a drug issue, but the police were suspicious and notified us because of the secession issues. We haven’t been able to trace the perpetrators any further, but a detailed background check of the deceased showed no previous drug involvement. There are at least two other murders that may have some connection to the election, including that of an assistant attorney general in another state.”
Pug stood and stepped to a small table in the corner of the hotel room. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a couple of folders and several yellow, legal-sized pads.
“If I’m going back to New Zealand tomorrow night, I’d better have more than a good memory.”
“Colonel, there is one other quite important piece of information you should know, given your previous assignment,” Nicole said, as she placed a blown-up, black-and-white photograph on the table in front of Connor. “This picture was taken from a camper van parked in a known meeting site of the Shasta Brigade. It’s a roadside rest stop in northern California on I-5, just south of Corning. Do you recognize either of these men?”
Pug studied the photo for a moment, turning it sideways to get a better perspective of the two men who were talking over the hood of a car, near some children playing in the grass and a lady walking a dog in the background. Pug’s eyes widened a bit as he took note of the familiar characteristics of one of the men.
“The man on the left,” Nicole said, “is Jackson Shaw, the commander of the Shasta Brigade. He normally meets with another man we’ve yet to identify. That man is not in this picture. The second man in this picture-”
“Is none other than Grant Sully, CIA deputy director of operations,” Pug interjected, looking up at Granata, who nodded acknowledgment.
