Dark Coup (29 page)

Diego nodded and left the room.  He was halfway down the hallway when he heard a gunshot and spun around.  A few seconds later Dunkin came out of the room, holstering his weapon.

Dunkin caught the look on Diego’s face and answered his question before he could ask.  “I told you, I wish I could court-martial them,” Dunkin said, “but I can’t.  I’m not going to have their deaths on anyone else’s conscience, either.  That might make me hard, it may even make me evil, but that’s for me to deal with.  They’re waiting for you in there.”

The news that Diego had, in fact, found another mole was sobering and caused three of the Airmen to walk to the front of the room and formally apologize to Diego for hitting him, taking a swing at him, or cussing him out.  Once that was out of the way, Diego opened the duffle bag that one of his men had been holding on to and pulled out the ugliest HAM radio any of them had ever seen.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After leaving Randolph Air Force Base, they headed to Kirtland, in Arizona, and then Luke, in New Mexico.  Major Dunkin had been in contact with both of them, and they were both either in open rebellion against Tweed or near enough as made no difference.  They would be expecting his people and he could use them as staging points for California and heading north, which was a good thing.

California had almost gotten them all killed.  Southern California was lost, for a number of reasons.  First, there was no longer a southern border.  It simply didn’t exist.   And what was left of Mexico had decided it wanted California back.  Second, Tweed’s puppets were completely in control of what forces remained.  Diego’s thin excuse of performing a nationwide, hands-on check for Central Command had been met with requests for authorization from Colonel Tweed, and then a patch through to the man himself.

When Diego wouldn’t–because he
couldn’t
–validate his orders, they had to vacate the area back to Luke Air Force Base.

Hill Air Force Base in Utah had been a total unknown because they had simply dropped off the map.  Several hundred miles from any other major military installation, except for the Dugway proving grounds and the Toole Army Depot–both of which were more storage or test facilities than military “bases”–Hill had apparently decided it was going to be an island unto itself.

Diego almost wished he’d decided to forgo Hill when they were buzzed by four F-16s with absolutely no warning, and then painted by so many active radar sources that it almost overwhelmed the threat indicator.  It turned out that Hill’s commander, Colonel Amy Holmes, had in fact decided to disconnect after receiving the first download of information regarding ARCLiTE.

The
original
orders were good enough for her–if you ignored the ‘suggestions’ tacked onto the end.  She had listened to, but never logged into, the conference call that was requested several weeks after ARCLiTE was instituted and determined that someone, somewhere was making a power grab.  From that point on, nobody on her base had answered any communications requests from their regional command, another Colonel somewhere in the northwest she assumed.

Six transmissions had been sent at random intervals, though, and six of her people had quietly been made to disappear shortly thereafter.  Colonel Holmes felt the same way about traitors that Major Dunkin did.

Now, after another half-dozen bases that had been split four-to-two, with more rebelling bases than those loyal to whoever was pulling the strings, Diego was about to make his last stop before heading home.

This would be the last on their list for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that the area was most likely controlled by at least two–and possibly as many as four–Army bases and an Air Force base.  That didn’t include the Marine Corp barracks or the massive nearby U.S. Naval presence.  They were on their way to Washington D.C.

…

“So,” Major General Pierce Sharpe said.  “I think you’ll find things are well under control.”

Diego didn’t trust himself to speak.  According to the General, everything north of The Capital and east of about Harrisburg Pennsylvania was basically pacified.  He admitted that there were still a few civilian holdouts, but that they were few and far between, and that they were being dealt with swiftly–and thoroughly–whenever they were found.

Diego seriously doubted that rural New York and New Hampshire were anywhere near under control, unless they were devoid of human life, but didn’t say anything.

“For the most part,” Sharpe said, “the people embraced the stability and order that we were able to provide, and temporarily relinquishing a few liberties hasn’t been a problem.  Now, a year later, nobody’s saying anything about the fact that we’re in complete control of virtually every aspect of their lives.”

“They get up when we tell them to,” Sharpe continued, “work on what we tell them to work on, eat, sleep and even have sex when we say.  We only had to banish a couple-dozen people, and an entire family in one case, to drive home the point that we mean business…for their own good, of course.  It goes without saying that we
took care
of the ones we banished, and made sure everyone inside knew that they’d come to a horrible end without the protection we’re providing.”

Sharpe laughed and Diego attempted to smile …conspiratorially.  This man made him sick and he wanted nothing more than to put a round between his eyes, step over his cooling corpse, find the next in charge, and do the same thing over and over again.  The fact that the people, the citizens, had apparently embraced their chains–and that ultimately it would make no difference and he would just die for the effort–kept him from acting.

“You understand,” Diego said, “that I need to speak to some of the residents in the camps.”  Diego almost choked on the last word.

“Of course,” Sharpe said.  “I do wish we’d been notified ahead of time though.”

Diego just looked at the General, wondering how far he could push it.  “That would have defeated the whole purpose of a surprise visit,” he said, “now, wouldn’t it?”

Sharpe nodded but the look on his face told Diego he was treading on thin ice.  He may be acting on someone else’s behalf but that authority only went so far.

“Would you like to speak to them here,” Sharpe asked, “or at one of the work camps?”

“I think at one of the camps,” Diego said, “once the Black Hawks are refueled.”

…

The flight to Albany, New York took a little over an hour because Diego didn’t want to appear too eager.  He also didn’t want to push his birds too hard, because they hadn’t had any proper maintenance in over a month and he wanted to save any hard flying in case he really needed it.  General Sharpe had offered to accompany him, but Diego had politely refused, again, in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

Four of the other pilots were interviewing individual citizens and he was interviewing a group with the remaining two.  He’d insisted that the guard remain outside during the interview.

“And how are the conditions,” Diego asked.  “Generally, how have things been?”

“Fine,” said one of the middle-aged men in the group.  He’d started out doing most of the talking and had taken on the role of spokesman for the group.

“Just ‘fine’,” Diego asked.  “Care to elaborate?”

“We’re safe,” he said, “there’s food and water.  Better than what must still be going on outside with all the shootings and attacks we hear about, and the reports we get.”

“Reports,” Diego asked.  “Reports of what, and how do you get the reports?”

“All the roving gangs,” the man said.  “What else?  We have a, kind of a newspaper that comes out once a month.  I don’t have one with me but…”

“I’ve got one,” one of the other men said.  He was older and looked like he’d been a farmer, or worked a ranch, all his life.  He pulled the single sheet of folded paper out of his back pocket and handed it over to Diego.

“Mind if I hold on to this,” Diego asked as he unfolded it.

“Please do.”

Diego glanced at the paper which was printed on both sides and looked like it had been copied.  He was reading it while one of the other pilots was asking a question when he realized that there was some writing at the end of a paragraph.  It was small, neatly written, and it made the paragraph look fully justified instead of left justified.  If he hadn’t actually been reading the paper instead of just scanning it, he would have missed it altogether.

On three lines, the message was “Get me…out…of here.”

Diego glanced at the top of the newssheet and realized that the date was almost six months past.  This man had been carrying his note around in hopes of being able to pass it on since March.

Diego folded the paper up and put it in his flight-suit pocket and then looked up to see the older man watching him.  He made brief eye contact with him and then continued asking questions.

How old was everyone?  How large were each of their families?  Were they being treated fairly?  What were they being told about future plans?  How were they handling money?

After the first few questions, Diego had had enough of the first middle-aged guy doing all the talking and told him so.

“I appreciate your willingness to take the lead,” Diego said, “but I think I’d like to hear what everyone else has to say.”

“Well,” he said, “we all feel the same way, don’t we?”  He looked around and everyone nodded, including the older farmer.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if someone else did the talking now, would you,” Diego said.  It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t see why…” the man started.

“You don’t have to,” Diego interrupted, “but just for the sake of argument, let’s say I have a question about female reproductive health, are you comfortable answering that question, much less
qualified
?”

The man turned red, either from embarrassment or frustration, but two of the women in the room smiled.  Apparently, Diego wasn’t the only one tired of hearing this guy run his mouth.

Now, unfortunately, Diego felt he had to put up or shut up.  He looked at one of the women who’d smiled and hoped she hadn’t started menopause early.

…

“So, has there been any talk of when things should go back to normal,” Diego asked.  “At least a little bit like how they were before the power went out?”

“Once it’s safe,” one of the other men said.  “It’s still crazy out there.  You read the paper, people have turned to
cannibalism
.”

“Obviously not until its safe,” Diego said, biting his lip to keep a serious face after the word cannibalism.  No, he hadn’t read that because he’d gotten an old paper, but how gullible were these people?

“You don’t expect to live the rest of your lives in a pen do you,” Diego asked, trying to make it sound like a normal question.

“What’s with the questions,” the first man asked.  “You know what it’s like out there.  You should know what the plans are.  Are you trying to start some kind of revolt or something?”

The older farmer hid a smile but had a twinkle in his eye.

Diego laughed.  “Hardly,” he said.  “Yes, I know some of the future plans, but I’m obviously not in the inner circle.  Let’s just say that I’m from the Government and I’m here to help and leave it at that, shall we?”

The first man who’d been the spokesman for a while had a sour expression on his face and folded his arms, but didn’t say anything more.

“Honestly I don’t see any problems,” Diego said.  “I think we’re done here.”

On his way out he made brief eye contact, again, with the old farmer and nodded slightly.

…

Diego gathered his other pilots and headed back to the helicopters.  On the way back he noticed that the spokesperson for his group was talking to one of the camp guards who was looking his direction.

“Uh oh,”
Diego thought. 
“Looks like I might have gone too far with the questions.”

The guard spoke into his radio while keeping an eye on Diego and his men and began shadowing them off to the side.

“Definitely not good,”
he thought.

“Go ahead and get the Hawks prepped,” Diego said to his second in command.  “Thru-flight ‘em.”

Diego leaned into his second without making it obvious and whispered, “If I’m not there by the time you’re done, get out of here.  Now go.”

With a lengthened stride, his second in command was about half-again as fast as the group and he would get to the helicopters with just about enough time to have the co-pilots thru-flight them by the time the group arrived.

Diego heard the radio on one of their guards come to life and he stepped to the side to talk without being overheard.  A few seconds later, he stepped over to Diego.

“Sir,” the guard said, “if you could come with me.”

“You guys go on ahead,” Diego said to the other pilots.  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Their postures didn’t change, but the looks in their eyes told Diego they knew what was going on.

“Actually, Sir,” the guard began.

“What can I do for you,” Diego looked at the soldier’s sleeve, “Corporal?”

“Sir,” the guard said, “I’m afraid I need you…”

Diego interrupted him again to keep him from stopping the other guards and detaining the rest of his pilots.  “Corporal,” Diego said, “spit it out.  I need to be on my way back to D.C.”

“That’s the problem, Sir,” the guard said.  “I’m not supposed to let you leave.”

Diego’s men were far enough out of earshot not to have heard that, but the guard was focused enough on Diego not to notice.  Things had been running so smoothly for so long that he had been caught totally off guard by the need to detain this pilot.

“And why is that,” Diego asked, noticing that the guard that had made the original call was walking up to join the two of them.

“It doesn’t matter, Sir,” the first guard said.  “You won’t be leaving until we get orders from D.C. to release you.”

Diego sighed as he heard the engines of the first couple of Black Hawks spin up.  “Then we need to tell that to my pilots,” he said.  “They aren’t going to take your word for it.”