It talked a bit about the possible causes of the societal failure, which Sensei defined as continuing on this path that would lift up multiculturalism over respect for authority and the structures of authority: the military, the police, the church. And wasn’t that a god-awful grouping, Mac thought troubled. It also talked about a man’s authority within his family, and that a failure in society to respect that authority was making us weak.
So that’s how the child custody issue is playing in, he thought. And the change Vicky had described in her husband as he got in deeper and deeper. The changes that Carole Jorgensen had mentioned, too, come to think about it.
Well, Sensei and he could agree that the country had hard times ahead, Mac thought. The difference is... I think he is the problem.
He responded to Sensei’s email, thanking him for his personal attention, and that he was glad he’d be getting more emails. He said he’d read the manual and thought there were some really good points. But the hard times ahead? That seemed nebulous. What did he foresee that might trigger the collapse? What should people be looking out for?
And then he shut everything down, including unplugging the computer from the wall, and taking it off the router. He hadn’t been that paranoid about computer security in a while.
Well, it wasn’t paranoia if they were really coming for you, he thought. He went to bed, but sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter 15
(Seattle, Tuesday, May 6, 2014)
Taking Angie to a gun range turned out to be a lot of fun, Mac found. And she had a good eye. Her upper-body strength was a problem, as was typical for women, but still she was better than most of the women he’d taught to shoot over the years.
Most important, she liked it. And when she finally hit the target (not the bullseye, but the target) she’d done this little victory dance that made him grin at her. And take her gun away before she shot one of them.
He let her use the two weapons he was planning on taking, his Glock, and a long-range rifle, a Remington 700 .270. Her hands were too small for the Glock’s grip. She could use it, but her hands got tired really quickly. He considered what he had that might work better for her. He had a Ruger .380 auto that was lightweight and small because it was designed for concealed carry. As far as the Remington went, he wanted her to try it, but he wasn’t going to saddle her with carrying a long-range rifle.
“I’ll let you borrow a pistol to carry in your camera bag,” he said. “But you’re not licensed for concealed carry, so I won’t hand it over until we’re on the trail. But you should have something.”
She nodded. “I could learn to like this,” she said laughing. “And isn’t that a hoot for a pro-gun control liberal like me?”
Mac shrugged and smiled at her. “I’m pro-gun regulations,” he reminded her. “And I’ve got a big enough arsenal to set up a gun shop.”
She looked at him with a half-smile. “I remember you going nose-to-nose with Norton on that,” she said. “It got me one of my best shots of him. But I wasn’t sure you meant it. Seemed like either the arsenal or the pro-gun-laws stance had to be you just pushing his buttons.”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing more dangerous than amateurs with guns,” he said. “In a confrontation? Somebody dies, usually the amateur. I actually liked Andy Malloy’s gun certification program. Wanted to do a feature on it, but Janet nixed it. Said him pulling a gun on me indicated that maybe he wasn’t the most stable person in the world.”
She giggled. “And that hadn’t occurred to you?”
“Lots of people have wanted to shoot me, babe,” Mac said. “Doesn’t make them unstable, just angry.”
“I’m with Janet,” she said.
“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But when this is over, I may toss the idea at some gun range owners I know and see if one of them is interested in doing something similar. One who hasn’t pulled a gun on me.”
She laughed. “Can I buy you a drink — Mountain Dew — as thanks?”
“Sure,” Mac said, as he put his weapons in the lockbox in the back of his 4-Runner. “Let’s go to that Mexican place you introduced me to. They had good nachos.”
There were other staff there, a collection of people from across the newsroom departments, photography, and even a stray from advertising. Mac let Angie buy him his Mountain Dew and then he bought nachos to share. He had to admit he preferred this group with its diversity more than he did the Special Projects men’s club vibe. But then he’d always prefer to hang with a group with women in it, he thought amused. The diversity thing stuck with him as he gave Angie a ride home.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” she observed with a giggle. She’d had a fair amount of sangria, he noted.
“You know in movies how you always know the bad guys because they all look alike? Usually Aryan white men — short hair, black overcoats? And the good guys are a collection of diverse people: men, women, people of color, a couple of odd balls?”
She laughed some more. “Yes, and?”
“That’s the difference between this newsroom crowd and the Special Projects happy hour,” he said.
She looked at him for a moment, and then she patted him on the cheek. “Yes,” she said simply. “Women aren’t welcome there. I don’t know what they’d do if a black reporter joined them. We try to welcome everyone — hell, there was an advertising rep there tonight!”
“Says something about the kind of journalism they practice,” Mac said. Or wanted
