The coffeemaker hissed and gurgled as it finished brewing.  William grabbed a day-old styrofoam cup and filled it to the top.  Today was an important day for him; today he would up the ante.  The riots had been successful in that they had brought him respect and power, but they had also provided him a platform to leverage so that he could transition to phase two.

There were two types of people in the streets, revolutionaries and opportunists.  The opportunists used the riots as an excuse to loot.  The revolutionaries of course looted as well, of course, but that was not their goal.  A paradigm shift was their end-game, a fundamental transformation to whatever radical ideology that they held dear to their hearts.  William needed a third type of person in the street, though.  He needed the opposition; the sons and daughters of ‘liberty’.

William simply called them the ‘opposition’.  There were dozens of derogatory terms out there he could have used, but he preferred to anesthetize them.  Therefore, if you have an opposition, a mere obstacle, you simply eradicate it.  Besides, euphemisms worked better around his more sophisticated supporters, so it was a matter of etiquette to settle on the term.

For the most part, the opposition was nowhere to be seen, actually.  They mostly resided in suburban and rural settings and avoided the cities at all costs.  Those outlying areas were where SPARC was the weakest.  As long as their property was respected and their families were safe, they stayed home.  He had expected so much more out of these people.  They had been so vocal about rights and liberties; freedom and restoration.

Even now, facing anarchy in the streets and the tightening grip of martial law, they pulled their curtains tight and barred their doors like cowards.  Ever the optimists, they hoped to weather the storm, wait for order to be restored, and maybe rebuild their country.  William was not going anywhere, anytime soon, though.  He needed something to strike fear into their hearts, a fear of losing what they held dear; the kind of fear that motivated men to act.

The pre-paid cell phone vibrated on the counter, rudely interrupting his musings.  He strolled to the kitchen and topped off his cup as he checked the incoming number.

“Yes?”

“Hey, how are things there?”

The pleasantries only seemed to annoy William.  The man should know by now.

“Fine; how is the procurement process?”

There was a long pause, and then, “It’s… taking longer than we anticipated.  Everyone is paranoid.  This is serious, Will.”

William rattled a cigarette from his soft pack and withdrew it with his lips.  His tone grew sarcastic and abrasive, “I know exactly how serious this is, I wouldn’t have called in my favor to you if it wasn’t.  I’m on a timeline and I need you to deliver me some results.  No more delays.  Now, tell me the status.”

“Well, the secondary objective is complete and awaiting approval to proceed.  The primary is still being negotiated.  The talks are productive, but like I said, everybody is scared.  I think I can have the terms nailed down by the end of this week and delivery by the end of the following.”

William lit the cigarette and took a long drag, allowing the realities of the conversation to sink in.

“That sounds acceptable. Two weeks, not three, not five. Two, got it?”

He could hear the relief in the man’s voice, “Yes, got it.  Perfect.  Now, what about the secondary objective, should we execute?”

“Absolutely not.  If everyone’s paranoid, then that might push them away from the table altogether.  Just keep pushing, but don’t push them away.  Call me in a week. I’ll send you my new number.”

William smiled as he ended the call and took another long drag of the tobacco.  He strolled to the closet and rummaged for a minute before retrieving a dark hoodie and some jeans.  News like this called for a celebration.

After he pulled on the jeans he checked his watch, it was 6 AM.  He grabbed the land line and dialed.  The phone rang five or six times before a man’s voice groaned on the other end.

“What?”

“Great news, get up.  Meet me at the spot.”

“What time is it?  I went to bed like four hours ago, I think. I was torching storefronts and drinking Jägermeister all night.  I don’t even want to think about drinks.”

“Yeah you do, now get up.  Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

Click. 

Days like this were what it was all about.  He adjusted the Kevlar vest under the hoodie, before grabbing his Walther PPS and dashing out the door.

Ch apter 5

Barrett

South Padre Island, Texas

Barrett and Governor Baker pulled out of the heliport and turned north onto Channel View Loop in the four-wheel-drive buggy.  The area contained by the loop had been cleared of RVs to make room for the state guards’ equipment.

The sky was cloudy but still beautiful.  The warm, salty air beckoned to everyone within its domain.  Padre Island’s wide beaches lay just beyond the edge of the pavement.  The waves were larger than normal.

In another time, the island would have been saturated with tourists taking surfing lessons, snorkeling, fishing the jetty or simply basking in the south Texas sun.  Perhaps a beachfront wedding would be taking place behind one of the condos.  The bride and groom would be whisked away after the ceremony, leaving the guests to occupy their evening with fried oysters and draft beer at Louie’s.  Instead, the only visitors were the gulls and black skimmers that patrolled the waters for unsuspecting fish.

Governor Baker surveyed the six Amphibious Assault Vehicles and Strykers that he had begged from the Marines and Army a month ago.  The Army had loaned Texas ten Strykers and the Marines had offered up six AAVs.  The governor had sent three of each to the island after they were operable.  They were in miserable condition when Texas took delivery, obviously pulled from some repair queue.  It took nearly three weeks of working around the clock to get them serviceable.  Two of the “amtracks”, as the AAVs were also known, were still having mechanical issues.  Fortunately, there were several, experienced mechanics among the ranks of the guardsmen.

The AAVs were equipped with Bushmaster 25mm auto cannons, and the Strykers were equipped with 40mm automatic grenade launchers.  The arrival of the vehicles provided a much needed boost to the morale of the men on the island.  Before their arrival, all that the guardsmen had were their Humvees, and more recently, four MRAPs.  The official reason for the governor’s visit was to deliver the vehicles to the island, but Barrett knew better.

Barrett and the governor had simply shook hands after being introduced, and had not said more than two words since.  He knew the governor had not come into a war zone to shoot the breeze with a tired soldier.  He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he waited for the governor to break the silence.  Finally, Governor Baker cleared his throat and casually motioned his hand towards the new vehicles.

“Those ought to make a difference down here Sergeant… ah, I didn’t catch your last name.”

“No sir, we don’t use our names down here.  It’s too dangerous for our families.  You’re welcome to call me Sergeant or Barrett, and yes sir, they’ll make a world of difference; thank you.”

“My pleasure, Barrett. I’m just sorry it didn’t happen sooner.”

“I understand. There’s more red tape than usual, I imagine.”

The governor snorted in disgust, “I seem to be surrounded by it and at the top of everyone’s blacklist.  Texas can’t seem to catch a break.  If it ain’t trouble down here, it’s the wildfires, or the drought, or the riots, or the Feds,” he sighed and said, “I just don’t know anymore.”