“Well, Mr. President, I certainly hope that can be avoided.”
“So do I-a poor choice of humor on my part. How’d it go?”
“General Del Valle was quite sincere, Mr. President. He was cooperative, and we shared most of what we have been able to glean from our respective investigations. This young Daniel Rawlings fellow I profiled in my last written report finds himself in a tough spot.”
“How so, Pug?” Vice President Prescott asked.
“Madam Vice President, he’s been given the assignment to draft the republic’s new constitution, even though he’s been quite outspoken against the secession. I presume that Rawlings is one of Governor Dewhirst’s responses to your meeting with the governor last month. But on top of that, he’s a captain in the National Guard and is likely to be called upon to defend the state house if our contingency plans are implemented and the federal marshals move in.”
“What’s Del Valle’s position if we federalize the guard?” the president asked.
“Sir, General Del Valle advised that although the governor is adamantly opposed to the secession, his options are narrowing, and should federal intervention tie his hands, he’s likely to be pushed into a corner and required to take action in defense of California.”
“Action?” Eastman queried.
“Political action, sir,” Pug replied. “At least to show some opposition to federal intervention.”
“Colonel,” the president continued, “I’ve got my own brand of pressure back here. Senators from at least six western states have been pushing me to squash this rebellion-as they’re calling it-before it spreads to their states. They tell me the militia units in each of their states are growing bolder as a result of California’s actions. We’ve got to be decisive. And the joint chiefs don’t like the idea of one of their own military units being used against them. They want to activate the guard now and take control. Colonel, until we can see a better route, the federal marshals have their orders. If the governor announces the implementation of a constitutional committee, they
“Yes, sir.”
“Pug,” Prescott added, “I got your last report. Unfortunately, we can’t use the normal international channels to find Jean Minards-an obviously false identity-who worked with the California elections office. Those reports filter back through your former employer, and you understand that we can’t tip off Grant Sully.”
“Understood, Madam Vice President. Perhaps I can trade for this one.”
“Trade?”
“I could contact Kevin Donohue in Ireland again. Once before, he provided identification of someone we needed to uncover. If Minards, or Wolff, is an internationally recognized operative, Donahue might be able to identify or locate him. I don’t know what he’d want in return, however.”
“Absolutely not, Colonel,” the president interjected. “We’re not dealing with those cutthroats. They killed the vice president, for crying out loud. If I could find them, I’d have them snatched and put in rendition. No contact with these IRA terrorists. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Pug replied. “There is one other option at my disposal. Madam Vice President, I believe you know this person also-Ambassador Molenski?”
“The Russian Ambassador to the U.N.?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was most helpful with the
“We’ll discuss it, Pug, and I’ll get back to you,” Prescott replied. “Meanwhile, keep us abreast of the developments with this Rawlings chap. Can you work with him?”
“It’s an unusual situation. He’s been developing a relationship with Agent Bentley, and his former brother-in- law is a member of the militia.”
“Oh? Did you say
“Yes, ma’am. Rawlings’ wife was killed a couple of years ago in a skiing accident shortly after they were married. Kenny Bailey is her brother. He was shot and killed in a failed ambush on Captain Rawlings several weeks ago.”
The president spoke up. “Rawlings shot and killed his own brother-in-law?”
“No, sir. Some members of the Shasta Brigade shot him as he was trying to get on their plane before they took off. Rawlings killed the other ambusher. As far as Rawlings goes, Mr. President, Agent Bentley is convinced he’s in opposition to the secession and is actively working to prevent it.”
“So is Governor Dewhirst, Colonel,” the president chimed in. “But as you said, he’s ready to do what’s necessary to protect California. Be very careful how involved Rawlings becomes with the task force. I don’t think involving him would be such a good idea.”
“Understood, Mr. President. I’ll be in touch.”
“Good luck to you, Colonel.”
“Thank you, sir.”
President Eastman pressed the key to disconnect the speakerphone and leaned back in his chair as Clarene Prescott took a seat in front of his desk. She raised her eyebrows, revealing to Eastman her chagrin at his failure to inform Colonel Connor of impending military operational orders. Eastman watched her for a moment, assessing her agreement with his actions.
“I know, Clarene,” he said, raising his hands in a surrender mode. “We’ve left the colonel in the dark.”
“Pug Connor is a good man, and he’s worked in the dark before, but I’m surprised that you chose not to inform him.”
“It’s not a question of trust. You know that. Connor can be trusted, but there’s still the possibility that I’ll be able to abort the troop movement and stop this foolishness, and the fewer people I have to ‘stand down,’ the easier it will be. The JCS, however,” he said, shaking his head, “are dead set to move forward. We’ll bring Colonel Connor into the picture by Thursday night if things don’t change.”
“I think that would be fair, Bill. He’s walking a tightrope out there.”
“Yeah. Aren’t we all?”
Chapter 28
Modesto, California
Dan Rawlings lightly touched his brakes for the third time in as many miles and decided once again that utilizing cruise control on old Highway 99 was an impossibility. Ten miles west on Interstate 5, traffic flow was suitable, but the stop-and-go traffic, intersecting roads, and general limitations of 99 precluded such relaxing driving aids.
Crossing the Dry Creek Bridge at Galt, Dan ejected the CD, the sudden ensuing silence bringing Nicole to life from the twilight-zone nap she’d been taking since their departure from Dan’s apartment in Davis.
“Welcome to central California, Agent Bentley,” he said.
Nicole yawned and stretched her arms up and toward the back of the car before raising the seat from its reclined position. “Ever played this golf course?” she asked as they crossed the bridge and she observed the fairway extending out on both sides of the highway.
“Had one of my most memorable rounds here several years ago. Two under on the front and twelve over on the back side,” he said, laughing.
“Is that when you decided to forget turning pro?” she teased.
“Long before that, Agent Bentley.”
“What do you think Senator Turner really wants, Dan? Why do you think he wanted you to come down to
