A God in Ruins Part 2

"Cool Hand Quinn," she said softly, "have it your way. My way or the highway. Dirty decision time. You're my hero, Governor.""Not me. Arne Skye.""Good night, man. I'll be following the beeping ball.""Dawn, call Rita, will you? She's at the condo.""Okay, get some sleep."

"Tuck!" Quinn said, smacking his lips together. He unscrambled himself from his blanket, came to sitting, and held his face in his hands. "Yuck," he repeated. "My name is Quinn Patrick O'Connell," he told himself. "Now where am I ... what is that strange odor? The morgue!""Morning, Governor," Dr. Dawn Mock said."Jesus, what time is it?""Past ten.""Huh, guess I must have been tired. Morning, Dawn.""Good news first or the bad news?" she asked."Good news.""There is none. Roy Sedgewick has disappeared into thin air.""He could be here in Denver, using an alias," Quinn said, groping for his shoes."Or," Dawn added, "halfway to somewhere. The Canadian government has put him on an Interpol alert. Interpol would cough him up in Europe. That leaves South America and Asia. I'd guess China. Sedgewick has a long history of gun running for the Chinese. I gather the Chinese financed him on getting the licenses for the VEC's. If China is his route, forget it. He's too well connected, and they'll let him in and hide him.""d.a.m.n, so we scratch him, huh?"

"For sure we won't find him today."Quinn stretched hard, yawned, excused himself. "I'm going to run to my condo and clean up. I'll be back in an hour."Dawn gave a double thumbs-up sign, and a look pa.s.sed from one to another that said, "Are we crazy or something?"Rita smiled broadly to cover up her sleepless night, as did Rae. Quinn stood under an ice-cold shower until he could handle no more. An infusion of coffee awaited him as he exited the shower stall."I'm thinking," Quinn said with a good feeling of putting on clean clothing, "you and the kids ought to move into the mansion. Take Mal with you.""Why?""Don't give me a hard time.""All right. Duncan called earlier. He's at the convention. I gave him my cellular in case you needed to reach him."The great "fairness" theme had evaporated with Governor O'Connell as he left the auditorium. One after another, the row of front benchers of the board came to the pulpit and roasted the demons of the anti-gun, anti-American, anti-Christ charlatans who ruled the government.A basket of pro-AMERIGUN proposals and "whereas-es" was pa.s.sed unanimously. Underaged gun owners, anti-children's safety locks, anti-limitation of twenty guns per family, anti parental responsibility, anti-waiting periods, were all branded as violations of Second Amendment rights.On this morning, King Porter made d.a.m.ned certain that last night's resolutions were remembered. The basic AMERIGUN strategy was now to silence the major gun-control freaks and particularly one in a Western state. With Quinn O'Connell put in his place, the rest of the state houses in the nation would think twice about gun-control legislation.King Porter whipped himself up into a lather with a romping, stomping revival sermon.

"h.e.l.lo, Duncan, it's Dad.""Hi, Dad. They just hung you. That Porter guy was frothing at the mouth.""So, what's new?""I've canva.s.sed the exhibition hall with four of Dr. Mock's detectives. They estimate there may be several hundred illegal weapons in the hall, but there's no way to get to them. By the time we get the legal search and seizure papers, they will have scattered.""Duncan, don't lose the faith," Quinn said. "I want you to get back to the condo, p.r.o.nto, and move over to the mansion .. . and no f.u.c.king arguments!""Okay, Dad, I hear you."The instant Quinn saw Dawn Mock, he knew that something terrible had taken place. Harry Chin, usually expressionless, suddenly looked ancient. Dawn pointed at the GPS monitor."It stopped transmitting about fifteen minutes ago," she said."There's nothing I can do, Governor," Dr. Chin said. "The batteries inside the crates have lost power, and the GPS has stopped transmitting.""They were supposed to last three years!""Batteries can be funny," Chin answered."Dawn, get me Yancey.""Colonel Hawke here.""This is Quinn. Did you get any photographs of the truck last night?""Just going to call you, Governor. There was a b.i.t.c.hing thunderstorm around the state line. Neither the video nor still photographs are able to identify anything.""We've lost contact with the truck," Quinn said."Oh, Jesus. What do you want to do? Call it off?""Let me think for a minute, let me think," Quinn mumbled to himself,trying to retread a plan. "Here we go, Yancey. Hold your triangle. I still say West Coster will be the target area. I'll leave it to you to contact Reb and make sure he keeps his people undercover at the stadium. I'll get back to both of you soon as I can.""If it weren't so tragic," said Chin with a straight face, "it would be hilarious trying to find an unidentified semi truck and trailer in Denver.""Governor, let's chuck it in. If we pull out of it right now, there won't be any damage to you. None whatsoever," Dawn pleaded."None whatsoever except a f.u.c.king AMERIGUN office in Denver telling us how to live our lives and three thousand more murder weapons on our streets.""Man, we tried," she cried. "You've got to consider the careers of the people who have gone all the way with you."Quinn wound up as if to punch the monitor but only cursed it instead."We've got a long day coming up," Quinn said at last, "at least four or five hours to run out every option.""We can't keep it secret much longer," Chin said. "It's going to leak.""All right, give me two or three hours. I need you people here."They both nodded tentatively."Dr. Chin, find out for me who is the top man in the federal penitentiary system. Find out his military service, i.e." which branch he served in. Keep lowering the search by rank until you find me a Marine.""Highest-ranking Marine in the penal system."Quinn was about to punch in the number for Hoop Hooper's attorney, A. Wayne White, but stopped. "I'll go to him last, Dawn. Once we start dealing with lawyers, our security is compromised."In the interim, Dr. Dawn Mock had pulled herself together and organized the bureau's regular day's work with her a.s.sistant in the outer office.

Harry Chin returned in six minutes. "Highest-ranking penitentiary official is George Appleton, First Deputy Director, Marine Corps, 1978-1986, rank of major, Viet combat, decorated.""Am I speaking to the Governor Quinn O'Connell?" Deputy Director George Appleton said excitedly into the phone."Yes, sir," Quinn answered."Gunner O'Connell?""Yes, sir," Quinn repeated."I am honored! I was in rapid deployment on my hitch. Now, what can I do for you, Governor?""This conversaton is Marine to Marine," Quinn said."I understand," Appleton said softly. "I think we'd better shoot a little verification.""Sure. There is my wife, Rita, in Denver and my secretary Marsha at the Capitol. You don't have to tell them who you are, but that you need to speak to me about some cheese coming in from Wisconsin. Both of them will give you the same number. I am in Dr. Dawn Mock's office at the Colorado Bureau of Investigation.""We will be Marine to Marine," Appleton a.s.sured himself."Absolutely.""I'll be back to you on a secure line."Second by second tension ensued. Not a word pa.s.sed between Quinn and Dawn, but she could almost see smoke coming from his ears as he pumped his brain for direction."Governor O'Connell here.""Appleton.""Semper Fi time?" Quinn asked."Semper Fi time," Appleton pledged. "What do you have in mind?""There is an AMERIGUN convention taking place in Denver.""Yes, I'm aware. A very angry one."

"We have intercepted a plan to dump up to three thousand VEC--44's and millions of rounds of 9mm ammunition. We lost contact with the delivery truck. You have a prisoner in the system who is our last hope of giving us the destination of the weapons.""I see ..." Appleton's voice trailed off. "Does he have a lawyer?""He has a rat's nest full of them. We have been able to make this exclusively a state of Colorado caper. Actually, only six people know anything about the target, one of them my wife. Time will not allow us to deal with the lawyers. If I have to negotiate with them, we'll probably be too late to apprehend the cargo, follow me?""Yes.""It will take the media months, if ever, to figure out how we pulled it off. And in that time we will fade into thin air."A scent of procrastination seemed to flow from Appleton's phone. Quinn could hear the man breathing, weighing. Was it fair for the governor to use the federal system on an operation from which they had been bypa.s.sed?Undoubtedly, Appleton thought, O'Connell had gotten tips along the line from the FBI or aTF.. Appleton was about to decline when the big picture of a great hero, Gunner Quinn O'Connell, loomed before him. After all, what the h.e.l.l was O'Connell doing? Putting his a.s.s on the line in the service of the people. On the other hand, the rancor between federal agencies would ensure a media convulsion. Why the h.e.l.l does he have to give me that gyre ne s.h.i.t?"What do you need?" Appleton said at last."I want to speak, one to one, with a prisoner on a secure line.""Oh, h.e.l.l, we do much worse," Appleton sighed. "Bury my name, for G.o.d's sake.""Hey," Quinn said, "we're on death-before-dishonor vows here. Your name will not emerge from this end."

"Who do you want to speak to, and what facility is he in?""Herman Hooper, aka Hoop Hooper, Atlanta Penitentiary. Former leader of the Wisconsin militia. Bundle of charges. He's pleaded guilty to get a reduced sentence, which has been lowered to twenty years from forty.""I'm on it," Appleton said."And, George, we are desperate for time."Senator d.i.c.k Darling closed the morning's session by pointing his finger toward Washington and shouting "thou shalt nots." Hall Carleton was elected president of AMERIGUN, by acclamation, unopposed.Carleton smiled so broadly his teeth shone clear to the last row as he and the senator held up each other's arm in victory.King Porter announced the afternoon's business and an evening fare of barbecue and folk dancing.Reb b.u.t.terworth spirited fifty guardsmen and troopers into Elway Stadium, one truck at a time. He was positive he had not raised alarm or suspicion.The troops were housed in a wide corridor between the field seats and the balcony. Bedrolls and boxed rations were the order.They would remain fully clothed and could reach their trucks in two minutes, with another four minutes bringing them to the convention center.A report from Yancey Hawke. He had established his triangle, three positions that could converge at an instant's notice. Each apex had some fifteen troopers and guardsmen all in secluded areas."Hi, Rae, it's Daddy. You're all in the mansion okay?""There seem to be twenty guards outside. Are we going to need them?""I hope not."

Hours of midday dragged by, the longest of their lives. A pair of half-eaten pastrami sandwiches died on Dawn's desk. Quinn was knotted up. He could barely get his teeth unclenched to drink his c.o.ke. Dawn had been staring at the empty monitor. Tears welled in her eyes."We've been stiffed," she said. "It's four o'clock.""One more half hour," he mumbled."You've been saying that since noon.""Never mind," Dawn said to herself. "Why argue the point now? The governor had played it skillfully and bravely, but neither skill nor courage was the game. And no one has ever figured out how to stop time."Both of them clicked on as the scramble phone buzzed. Dawn nodded to Quinn. He lifted the receiver."h.e.l.lo," Quinn said.Dawn put a headset on to listen."h.e.l.lo," the other end said. "Who am I speaking to?""Governor Quinn O'Connell, Marine Gunner O'Connell.""Tell me, Governor, who was your commander at the Urbakkan raid?""Major General Jeremiah Duncan.""And he won the Congressional Medal?""Yes, as a fighter pilot in World War Two. He received a posthumous Navy Cross for Urbakkan.""About how tall was Jeremiah Duncan?""He was on the short side, like five eight.""George Appleton here, Governor. Sorry to put you through the quiz. I flew to Atlanta after we spoke to set things up myself. Who is aware of my partic.i.p.ation?""Dr. Dawn Mock, chief of the CBI. She's been involved from the beginning. And Dr. Harry Chin, our Internet specialist.""I'm speaking to you on a secure phone? No tapping?"**/".C *Ur course not.

"And I'm just doing you a favor, and I don't know what it's about.""Yes, sir," Quinn said."All right, here's your man.""Hoop Hooper," a voice growled."This is Quinn O'Connell, governor of Colorado.""Yeah, I know who you are.""Good. I'll cut right to the chase. A semi and eighteen wheeler left the Wisconsin Grand Army two and a half days ago carrying three thousand VEC-44's and a lot of ma.s.sacre tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Destination, Denver.""I don't know what the h.e.l.l you're talking about, Governor.""We've lost the truck in the Denver environs," Quinn plowed on, "and we may not find it here. But we sure as h.e.l.l are not letting them out of the state. Roy Sedgewick was going to set up a nest egg for you with the Denver sales. Sedgewick is gone, probably en route to China. Hoop, you've got to know that Sedgewick was going to beat you out of a couple hundred grand either way. He fled because everyone's hot breath was on him."

"Well, who in the h.e.l.l is Hedgehog?"Quinn ignored the remark. "d.i.c.kie Darling is going to pocket all your hard-earned money."Bingo! Quinn heard Hooper wince."I'm on the fast track, and we've got time to make a bust. Where are they going to deliver the guns sold at the convention?""I don't follow you.""You have a forty-year sentence that has been reduced to twenty by your guilty plea. Give me the information, and I'll do everything in my power to reduce your sentence to ten or twelve. That means, with good behavior you could be out in six.""You should be speaking to my lawyers, Mr. Governor.""No way. I'd have to expose the operation and my a.s.sociates, and there's not time to argue with attorneys. It is you and me, Hooper, you and me, us."

Hooper ran over the governor's figures. It meant going in with a forty-year sentence, coming out with six. I have to take his word that Sedgewick has fled, and he sure has his facts right on the VEC's. "How do I know you'll deliver?" Hooper asked."You don't. You're going to have to trust me.""I ain't never trusted n.o.body and never will.""Well, today is a real fine day to start."Hooper huffed, grunted, and snarled. The tattoos reading MOTHER COUNTRY G.o.d on his left arm pulsated. He looked over at George Appleton, who was fixed on him with hatred. Hoop knew hatred when he saw it. Sure did. He knew if he rejected the governor, prison life was going to be brutal."Give me some time to think about it," Hooper said."Sure, you've got thirty seconds and I hang up.""Hold on, Governor. The gun run from Wisconsin to the Denver convention was planned seven months ago, when we were unable to sell them. I've been in prison for five months. They sure as h.e.l.l must have changed the delivery location.""What was the former location?" Quinn snapped back."Friehoff's Furniture Outlet, somewhere out on West Coster. Can you get me a single cell?""Maybe. Tell me about the truck and the drivers.""They're crazy, man. Three brothers and a cousin named Jensen. They've been running contraband out of the Great Lakes ports for years. On this run their pay will be on delivery.""What are they advertising on the side of their truck, and tell me about their plates.""Governor, I don't know. They're probably driving a hot rig they stole recently. On a few runs I know they put up Old Milwaukee beer sheets with magnets. I don't know.""All right, give me a solid gold name of an exhibitor at the convention who is dealing in the VEC's."Jesus! Hooper had already exposed the Jensen brothers, and he'd exposed himself. Chuck it in and pray, he told himself.

"I want to get moved to another facility," Hooper whispered hoa.r.s.ely."Why?""I, uh, ran into a number of militia boys and Klan people. All of a sudden I'm organizing them against the n.i.g.g.e.rs, and the n.i.g.g.e.rs are out to get me.""Hoop, it's not in my power. Let me speak with the deputy director," Quinn said."h.e.l.lo, Governor," George Appleton said."Hoop is about to give us the key piece of information, but he thinks he's been fingered by the black prisoners. He'd like to be transferred to a facility where he isn't known and can be isolated."Appleton blew a long whistle. "You'd better pull this off or G.o.d save us all. Here's Hooper.""Well, now," said Hooper, "I've met two guys I don't trust in the same day.""Let's have it!" Quinn said abruptly."It's me or him," Hoop Hooper thought. "If he was in my place, he'd snitch on me." "There will be an exhibition table belonging to Chad Murtha. He exhibits plastic, Teflon, t.i.tanium handguns, ammo, and clips."Lovely, Quinn thought. Everyman's weapons to beat the metal detectors!Dawn Mock was at her door jotting notes for her a.s.sistant: Get a layout and index of the exhibition tables .. . Chad Murtha is the exhibitor .. . Call up Detective Boedecker and draw ten thousand dollars in marked hills, mixed .. . Try Tennessee penal system and drivers license hureau to see if we can hring up a photo of Chad Murtha .. ."Okay," Quinn went on. "Does Murtha's exhibit have any kind of identification sign or banner?""Yeah, the back banner reads "Clock Almighty!" and a smaller one under it reads "Clock "Em All!"""Now tell me about you and Chad."

"Me and him been on the circuit twelve years or something. He hit on the plastic weapons because they're a big-turnover item. They'll only shoot up a few clips when they start to crack.""All right. After I find the Clock Almighty sign and I'm talking to Chad Murtha, what do I say?""Say, "I think I got the wrong table. Billy Joe said I could get some real metal here." Chad's gonna say, "I ain't seen Billy Joe in a c.o.o.n's age," and he's gonna ask you where you last saw him. Then you say you seen him at the gun show last year in Fort Smith, Arkansas.""I follow you," Quinn said. "What does Chad look like?""Heavy guy, big gut, used to wrestle professionally. Blond hair, he dyes it, like sixty years old and usually wearing a baseball cap.""Can we get a photograph of him?""Probably. He's done some time in Tennessee.""Continue, Hoop.""Chad's gonna say something like, "What kind of metal you looking for?" and you say, "Swedish metal." He'll want a ten percent deposit. Then he'll give you the location of his camper park and the number of his parking s.p.a.ce. He'll probably tell you to show up at two or three in the morning.""Couldn't he just take off with the deposit?""No, not and deal in gun shows for a dozen years. Honor among thieves.That's the standard time when the deliveries take place.""Hmmm.""See, he's got to keep his exhibits open at the convention hall until they close, usually around ten-thirty to midnight. Then he has to get the guns.""And, in theory, he'll lead us to the mother lode.""That's the ticket, Governor.""Next," Quinn said, "there is a special parking lot for exhibitors at the convention center. What's he driving?""A light blue Ford pickup, trades it in every other year for another light blue Ford pickup. It has a stainless steel camper sh.e.l.l over the truck bed. He'll have Tennessee plates.""Hoop, think hard, are there any other exhibitors who can be as helpful to us as Chad Murtha?""No, he's the main man. He'll look over the exhibitors, and if there are some who have worked with him, he'll select maybe four or five, depending on how sales are going."Hooper was unaware of pressure in his chest. He had always thought the pain was a part of his being. As he spoke, he blew out words coming from his deep interior, and it was like a relief from a tremendous crushing machine."Let me speak to George," Quinn said."Apple ton.""I'm setting some things into motion. Can you put Hooper in a holding cell so I can stay in contact, if needed?""The present setup is very secure," Appleton answered, and gave his phone number. "We'll be here. For Christ's sake, don't forget to inform us.""Semper Fi, buddy," Quinn said."Semper Fi," Appleton said.Quinn grabbed the stale bread on Dawn's desk and bit a hunk off it, starved. In a moment Harry Chin spread out a map of the exhibition hall, and they scoured it with magnifying gla.s.ses. Quinn went down the list."Bingo! Murtha, Chad, Knoxville, Tennessee, plastic handguns and paraphernalia. Side booth on west wall, stall number seven hundred twenty-three."Dawn, I need a half dozen detectives in three two-man teams to locate Murtha's pickup truck. I know we've gotten burned with signals from the big truck, but can you slap something on Murtha's vehicle to give off a radio signal?""I've got a dandy, and it will work.""All right, your three CBI cars will follow Murtha some time afterten-thirty. As soon as his signal gives us a general direction, I canset Yancey's team into motion. Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Quinn said, slapping his forehead. "Position a plainclothes pair in an unmarked car near Friehoff 's Furniture Outlet so he has a bead on 10101 West Coster. I've a wild hunch these people may not have changed the drop-off location.""It's sure as h.e.l.l worth a shot," Harry Chin said."G.o.d, I wish I could go in with Yancey," Quinn said."With all due respect, Governor," Chin answered, "keep your a.s.s right where it is."Chin made a log at Dawn's computer.1800 Clock Almighty! reads the banner at the back of booth number 723.A second small banner reads Clock "Em All.1822 Photo of Chad Murtha arrives CBI. Description, excellent.1830 Detective Lieutenant Mary Boedecker contacts Quinn from convention hall. She has located booth. Description of Murtha equals man at the booth.1835 Mary Boedecker proceeds to booth.Her appearance belied her profession. Mary Boedecker was thin, fifty-something with black and gray hair pulled back in a penny-plain knot. She wore no make-up and was dressed ranch style. Mary pointed at Chad and said she'd like to look at a pistol. Murtha unlocked chain from trigger guard.Mary made a sour face and set the pistol down. "I think I must be at the wrong table," she said.Chad scrutinized her so keenly, Mary could nearly feel heat from hisglare"I'm looking for Chad Murtha," she said.

"I'm Chad.""I ranch some up in Lodgepole County.""Pleased to meet you, ma'am.""Billy Joe said I could obtain some real metal from you.""Billy Joe.""Yes, suh, Billy Joe.""I ain't seen him, must have been a hundred shows back. I thought for sure he quit the circuit," Chad said."I saw him a couple months ago in Fort Smith, Arkansas," Mary said."I missed that show. I was doing something around Helena. Just what kind of metal are you interested in?""Swedish. The best Swedish."It connected! The lady was talking major money."Well, now, top-grade Swedish is hard to come by," Chad gurgled, counting dollars as he spoke."I want ten of them," she answered, opening her large purse and giving him a flash of her bankroll. Chad Murtha's eyeb.a.l.l.s clicked."That's a mighty big order," Chad said."You ever tried to get anything done with the United States government?" she snapped. "Me and some of my neighbors had our grazing rights on public land terminated. For two G.o.dd.a.m.n years we tried to get it reversed. It was like walking in h.e.l.l and trying to argue with the devil.""Government is at the root of all evil," Chad sympathized. "What's your name, ma'am?""Mary Decker. My neighbors and me think that if we form a militia unit, we could change the government's mind.""Sounds like a plan, Mary. Could I have your phone number and the name of someone who might be at the ranch?""Thank you, Chad," she said, smiling broadly. She gave the number slowly. "My husband, Harry, will be there.""You realize, now, the cla.s.s of weapon you're looking for is top-of-the-line fully automatic and pretty near fingerprint-proof. Ten VEC-44's, new, ten thousand rounds in long clips. We're looking at around a thousand a copy." "Get them," Mary ordered.1802 Detectives locate Chad Murtha's pickup truck in exhibitors' lot and attach a radio signal under its tailgate.1831 Photograph of Chad Murtha arrives at the CBI. Record shows some small-time robbery convictions. He has been fairly clean in past five years.1840 Detective Lieutenant Mary Boedecker contacts Dawn Mock. From description of photo, Mary is certain they have the right man.1841 Detective Hymes has security point a camera down from roof to tape Chad Murtha's booth. Murtha checks the deposit for marked bills. He is satisfied. Murtha proceeds to pay phone and dials the number.The number is routed into Dawn Mock's office on phone line two. Harry Chin lifts the receiver."h.e.l.lo," he says, "Harry Decker speaking.""Oh, h.e.l.lo, Harry. How are things going on the ranch?""s.h.i.tty. Who am I talking to?""Just a friend down at the AMERIGUN convention. Thought I might get to see you.""I sent my old lady down.""I'll keep an eye out for her."Chad hangs up with a big "cat in the fishbowl" smile. Mother f.u.c.ker, there is going to be a big old payday!

1900 State trooper Sergeant Hap Cronin in plain clothes and unmarked car takes up vigil in sight of Friehoff's Furniture Outlet at 10101 West Coster.1930 The evening's "Barbecue and Bash" opens its doors to the microsoft GRAND BALLROOM.2001 Detective Mary Boedecker returns to Chad Murtha's booth."I've got some good news for you, Miss Mary. I managed to find the last pieces in Western America. The VEC-44 is a beauty, a real man-stopper. Aren't you worrying about all that money you're carrying?""Well, now, don't you fret, Mr. Chad. I can hit a mosquito's a.s.s at forty yards with my little Beretta 25.""I sure bet you can," Chad said, feigning what might be a chuckle. "Here's the way it works. Don't write none of this down, just remember it. You be at the Foothills Trailer Camp on Lawson Street at two in the morning. You'll be observed, so come by yourself. I am in s.p.a.ce number eighty-four, in a small mobile home."Mary repeated the numbers, then asked, "What kind of vehicle do you have? I don't want to go knocking at the wrong door at that time of morning.""Blue Ford pickup, Tennessee license plate. Maybe we can split a beer or two."She gave a noncommittal shrug that didn't exactly say no.2014 Mary Boedecker contacts Dr. Mock's office, reports on gun-delivery instructions, and confirms the blue Ford pickup truck as vehicle to follow.2100 Ribs and chicken and beans proliferate as the bash rolls into motion at the microsoft GRAND BALLROOM.

2134 State trooper Sergeant Hap Cronin reports that a single automobile with driver and one pa.s.senger is buzzed through the main gate at 10101 and parks near the loading docks. Automobile is this year's Mercedes and appears to belong to a top-echelon person.2145 Quinn ups the ante, deciding that 10101 is still the designation. He orders Yancey to move his people very quietly to within a mile of 10101 and hold.It was the best d.a.m.ned evening AMERIGUN ever put on. There were lots of country and western performers, some Nike all-stars, sitcom stars, and finally, Senator Darling moved the crowd to tears.Line dancing up to forty yards long pounded the deck and skirts flared, showing the ladies' legs, and the bars d.a.m.n near ran dry.2200 Chad Murtha secures his booth for the night, departs convention center, has two beers at the Londonderry Bar.2235 Chad Murtha repairs to convention parking lot, locates and drives off in Ford pickup.2226 Detective Solomon at parking lot catches signal, alerts other teams, and pursues Chad Murtha at a distance.2236 Three CBI teams depart parking lot in unmarked cars and have Murtha under surveillance as he drives west for the interstate."By G.o.d, Governor," Harry Chin said with uncharacteristic emotion, "you were right! It's going to be 10101."

"What kind of stupid fools are they?" Quinn thought aloud."Repet.i.tion," Dawn Mock said. "If a mode of operation works ten times, it will work the eleventh. All criminals leave a signature. Maybe no one was certain who was supposed to be in charge of changing locations, so n.o.body did.""Folks, could I have your kind attention?" the loudspeaker boomed. "There's a line of yellow cabs at the main entrance. They have been provided for your safety. If you feel you've had a couple of drinks too many, take one of these tipsy taxis. You will be delivered to your lodging without charge, compliments of the Colorado Tourist Board."A sweet and hurting voice continued singing. The revelers were beginning to get weary, soaked, and grow heavy-legged. Quick action by the police stopped a fight before punches were thrown. "Don't you go looking at my wife that way.""Well, tell your wife not to look that way."The police nudged them into separate taxis.As the wearies trod from the microsoftGRANDBALL ROOM, the singer was closing out with slow dancing, loves lost, losers, loves strayed, loves betrayed, all in heartache three quarter time."Ladies and gentlemen, fellows and gals. Shooters! Tomorrow night is the grand awards banquet.. ."Could I have this dance, For the rest of my life, Will you be my partner, Eeewerrry night!"Give me the governor!" "Quinn here.""Detective Solomon. Chad Murtha has turned off the freeway. He's heading for 10101." "Hang on."

Quinn, Mock, and Chin spread the map and returned to the phone. "Have your teams come in steadily on Petroleum Boulevard. Park your cars in the Colo Computers' lot and proceed by foot three blocks east to Oakdale and Bancroft. Trooper Hap Cronin will be advised you are coming and will update you. And remember guys, no casualties if humanly possible."2330 Chad Murtha in blue Ford pickup stops before the gate at 10101 and flashes headlights. He drives immediately inside the gate, which remains open. In the next seven minutes, four vehicles driven by dealers are waved in by Chad. Gate is clicked shut. Vehicles drive to loading dock.2340 Eighteen-wheeler bearing Old Milwaukee sign is buzzed in and maneuvers to loading dock.2342 First units of Yancey Hawke's people make connection with Hap Cronin. State troopers followed by guardsmen surround the entire chain-link fence, set up tear gas, spotlights and a loudspeaker system.2343 The rear of the Old Milwaukee truck is opened.Owner of Mercedes identified as Franz Friehoff, owner of the furniture outlet.Franz Friehoff and Chad Murtha check off an order sheet."Morrison.""Here.""Seventeen pieces, seventeen thousand rounds."Innowski. "Right here." "Sixty-five pieces, sixty-five thousand rounds."

"Here's my own order," Chad said. "I've got two hundred and seventy pieces. I'm buying the beers. I've been looked up by a dozen militias.""Spotlights!" Yancey Hawke ordered.Friehoff's warehouse and grounds lit up as though an as tro from outer s.p.a.ce were making an earth landing. Blinding!"Now hear this!" Yancey Hawke boomed. "You people are surrounded and cannot escape. If you resist or open fire, we will shoot to kill!"First to leap off the loading dock screaming, "Don't shoot," was Jessup Jensen, the trucker's middle brother. He had run a few steps toward the gate when his younger brother Darren shot him in the back."First volley," Yancey Hawke ordered.A number of stun grenades arched over the fence, followed by a barrage of tear gas that hit the loading dock and crashed through the windows into the warehouse."Shall I bust open the gate, Colonel?""h.e.l.l, no, they are penned in. Just leave them penned in."It seemed that everyone among the gun runners reached for a weapon at the same time and appeared to be shooting at each other."Drop your weapons! Walk to the fence with your hands over your heads and stand, holding the fence facing us, or we will fire. This is not Waco or Ruby Ridge or the Montana Freemen! You have thirty seconds to raise a white flag. Anyone who tries to hide in the warehouse will not come out alive! You now have twenty seconds!"2415 Mary Boedecker contacts Dawn Mock. The ballroom is an empty mess.Clean-up crew and a dozen security guards are it.2425 Reb b.u.t.terworth and his force in intelElway Stadium dash for their trucks and roll the short distance to the convention center.Unloading and setting up a picket looks as though it were an ill.u.s.tration from the Army manual. Twenty state troopers and CBI detectives enter exhibition hall and move the night watchmen aside."Now hear this," b.u.t.terworth said to the empty ballroom. "This facility is hereby seized under Colorado statute six-oh four-A as a clear and present danger to public safety, and other crimes."

breaking story breaking story breaking story"We take you now to our Denver affiliate. Don, are you there?" "Yes,this is Don Fender, CNN, Denver. In the late hours of last night andthe early hours of this morning, Colorado state troopers and theColorado National Guard carried out a lightning raid intercepting agun-running scheme. A second task force seized the Colorado conventioncenter where the national AMERIGUN conclave was being held." "Can youtell us-""The operation apparently depended on secrecy and speed. Details are very slow coming in ..."breaking story breaking story breaking story"... interrupt this program to bring you a breaking story from Denver.""This is Anita McG lore MS NBC Denver. The c.o.c.k has crowed and Denver citizens are waking up this morning to the electrifying news of a major gun bust and the closure of the AMERIGUN convention. Governor Quinn Patrick O'Connell has scheduled a news conference for one o'clock this afternoon, Rocky Mountain time. It will be held at the historic Brown Palace Hotel."

Rocky Mountain News GOVERNOR QUINN PADLOCKS ARMSSHOWDenver Post MAJOR ARMS CACHE RAIDEDUSA Today TWO KILLED IN ARMS RAID. A PAIR OF BROTHERS,IDENTIFIED AS DRIVERS, DIE IN SHOOTOUTNew York Times (See story inside, section A, page 31)A truckload of a.s.sault weapons was captured by the Colorado State Patrol and a small unit of the Colorado National Guard. Two drivers were killed in the operation and several hundred guns recovered.New York Post GUN MUGGERS MUGGEDThe "historic" Brown Palace buzzed with antic.i.p.ation. Its atrium lobby soared nine stories to a gla.s.s roof which held an American flag four stories long.By one o'clock some sixty print journalists and a dozen camera crews had a.s.sembled, each with their own rumors.Deadly silence. One could hear people parting as Governor O'Connell made his way to the rostrum. A smattering of applause. A half dozen journalists came to their feet cheering. Now, sustained applause as Quinn fooled with the microphone."First, I want to sing you all a little song," Quinn opened. "I've never been involved in a press conference of this magnitude, and it's a little frightening. Half of you I don't know, so please give your name and organization. We okay with that? Thank you."breaking news breaking news breaking news".. . switch you now to a press conference at the historicBrown Palace Hotel in downtown Denver."Announcer in a whisper: ".. . that is Governor O'Connell at therostrum. The three people sitting at his left are identified as Adjutant General b.u.t.terworth, commander of the Colorado National Guard, Colonel Yancey Hawke, chief of the Colorado troopers, and Dr. Dawn Mock, head of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, a well-known figure in law enforcement circles."Quinn held up and waved a sheet of paper. "You all have received a rap sheet like this. It brings us up to an hour ago, noon. Questions?""Vernon Creech, Rocky.""Hi, Vern, I thought you'd never ask.""Governor," Creech went on, "the rap sheet says your initial tip was anonymous. Are you saying, sir, that it wasn't someone in the federal government or that you didn't have a.s.sistance of the FBI or BATF?""First, we aren't going to blow our sources. Second, the operation is still going on, and third, we might want to use the same sources again in the future. It was my belief that the entire AMERIGUN invasion of Denver was meant to be as intimidation, a warning about future anti-gun legislation. If any of you listened to the rhetoric at the convention, you'll understand my drift. I considered it a crude attempt to bully Colorado out of its sovereign rights. This was a state operation from beginning to end. My colleagues and I felt we could only be successful if we held the secret to just a few people. I determined that we had sufficient state forces to do the job. The weapons are Canadian-made VEC--44's of Belgium origin and were smuggled into Wisconsin via the Great Lakes. Apparently, the drivers, the Jensen brothers, had been running contraband for several years.""There must have been middlemen, sir," Creech said, not yet sitting down."The manufacturer, a Roy Sedgewick of Toronto, has disappeared. Friehoff, whose warehouse was the drop spot, has been placed under arrest, and we also arrested five weapons dealers working from the exhibition tables.""Governor," Chita Mendez of the Pueblo Chieftain said. "It sounds like no officials of AMERIGUN were involved."

"Just one," Quinn answered, "Senator Richard Darling of Wisconsin."BLAMbreaking news breaking news breaking news"Governor O'Connell has named Senator Darling of Wisconsin as the chief operator of a longstanding smuggling ring from Canada. Apprehended at the Denver International Airport, the senator has vociferously claimed his innocence. We switch you now to the Denver International ..."When the press conference regained its sanity, Len Sanders of the NewYork Times threw the question:"Did you use computer surveillance, and how did you follow the weapons from Wisconsin to Denver?""Yes, we used computers. Our entire operation was covered by appropriate court warrants. Moreover, we took abnormal caution to see that there were no casualties. The two Jensen brothers were apparently killed by their own gunfire. I'm not totally free to give you the method we used to trail the weapons to Colorado." "Can we have some more dope on the VEC--44's?" Quinn held up the a.s.sault gun. "Here she is. It's a 9mm, about .38 caliber, fully automatic machine pistol using thirty five round clips. She only weighs three pounds, and the barrel is a few inches. You couldn't hit a bull in the a.s.s at twenty feet with one of these little b.u.g.g.e.rs. They are designed to be in close and personal killers particularly for street gangs and burglars." "What is the current status of the operation, Governor?" "Well, let's see. Three thousand VEC-44's have been logged and impounded. Some five or six hundred weapons were due to be delivered to buyers last night. They are part of the cache. The dealers have been taken into custody. More important, we have a search-and-seizure warrant in effect. Our teams are in the convention center checking all the weapon ID numbers. So far we have turned up well over a hundred laundered guns. In addition, a dozen exhibitors are wanted by police elsewhere."

"What you going to do with all these weapons, Governor?""Melt them down for sewer lid covers. Let me say that any exhibitor selling legitimate material can have it returned by merely going to the Exhibition Desk.""You don't expect any dirty dealers to actually try to claim an unregistered gun, do you?""Stranger things have happened," Quinn said. "I wish to apologize," he went on, "to the AMERIGUN delegates and directors and exhibitors of legitimate items. The vast majority of folks are honorable, law-abiding citizens. Unfortunately, an ugly element pervades any gun show, and there are hundreds of them every year. There is always an aura of fear and danger emanating. This was a rare opportunity to inspect all the contents of the exhibition tables.""You rat!" a voice screamed from the rear of the room. King Porter was held at bay by his confederates. "You entrapped us!""Ladies and gentlemen," Quinn said, "that is King Porter, CEO of AMERIGUN. King, you are free to come up here and join the news conference.""What! To your G.o.dd.a.m.ned f.u.c.king liberal press! This is war!""You bet it is," Quinn answered.In the days that followed, Governor O'Connell was deluged with messages of approval. The raid rang a note that a peaceful people had at last given the neighborhood bully a punch in the nose.Quinn pressed forward with a gun-ownership bill, the sane bill for sane citizens that encompa.s.sed provisions that would have been defeated a few weeks earlier. It was to be a model for other states.The polls in and out of Colorado showed high approval ratings on the governor's action.Polls showed 78.6 percent for, 21.4 percent against.J. Malcolm Dunlay, a former attorney general, appeared on two dozen panels of experts in the following fortnight as part of the 156 TV panels to discuss the pros and cons of the sting.The Civil Liberties fanned the fire by declaring that the gun dealers had been denied their civil rights.Others accused O'Connell of usurping the federal charters of the FBIand the BATEMore panel shows.Quinn and his people withdrew as a ravenous media started searching through the capital's trash cans and toilet stalls.A count total was lost as to the number of Internet communications, but it appeared that they ran 78.9 percent in favor of the operation.The public was smitten. Replays of High Noon abounded. Governor Quinn Patrick O'Connell was thrust into national prominence.At the end of the month, the AMERIGUN bust and cowboy O'Connell dissolved and were replaced when a star of one of sitcom's royal series chopped up his wife with a carving knife.Homicide panels replaced weapons and legal panels, although J. Malcolm Dunlay slid from one to the other effortlessly.Even though Governor O'Connell was out of the immediate spotlight, a buzz had started around him. Instead of taking the glory road, he seemed to withdraw, dazed and wondering.Rita was finally able to tear him loose from Denver and lure him to Troublesome. They would stay at Mal's, where they could enjoy more isolation than at the ranch.The rain plopped hard on the skylight, perhaps the last rain before the snows. Rita's knowing hands rubbed out his sore spots. At first he was not even up to making love.Wind misted with rain and bombarded threateningly, then softened to a mellow tattoo of little raindrops. A moment for resurrection was at hand.Rita and her father rocked on porch swings, watched the storm drift south, and smelled the freshness of after rain.

They stopped talking as Quinn, in floppy bathrobe, yawned his way out to them. He had crashed, for this particular nap, for four hours."Well, my wife and father-in-law seem to be in a conspiracy . what? And a.s.sa.s.sinate the cruel governor with daggers and gain the state house?""You are, my dear son-in-law, a victim of your own success. Anything not clear to you, Quinn?""Like what?""Like I saw you on your knees at the family chapel for the first time in the four decades I've known you," Mal said."It was between me and G.o.d," Quinn said. "Please tell me, Lord, who I am and what do you have in mind for me. Do I have veto powers? Be still my heart.""You know what's going on," Mal said. "Rita and I have fielded calls from every big hitter in the Democratic Party. They've a golden boy. Get used to it.""I love the people's politics-" Quinn started."And are the most beloved governor in Colorado history," Rita said."I was thinking maybe an emba.s.sy. Maybe Australia or New Zealand. No cabinet posts, just a non-trouble-making emba.s.sy.""Well," said Mal, "why not try to open a consul general in St. Earth's and lie on the beach and look at t.i.ts all day?""And I'd get to look at p.e.c.k.e.rs," Rita said."Out with it, Quinn," Mal pressed."First the Urbakkan raid," Quinn mumbled, "now this AMERIGUN bust. All the sudden adoration is bound to fade, and they will say, Quinn's a man of violence. Who needs him? The good life depends on peace and prosperity. Moral imperatives like the defeat of slavery come at too high a price. So long as we remain fat and free, we will avoid the lingering festering issues. At any rate, I am not going to be the one to gather up the people on a moral issue. It makes for a dull person.""You're anything but dull," Rita said.

"And what about you and Duncan and Rae? Are you ready for a million maggots at your door every morning?""What I am worried about," Rita retorted, "is that if you walk away from the call, we'll spend the rest of our lives in our own form of self-imposed h.e.l.l. I knew this was going to happen even before you ran for governor.""Don't raise the stinker that you're retreating because of your family.They know their daddy is a great leader ..." Mal said."Mea culpa time," Quinn said. "I wanted clean in and clean out. Before the bust I made up my mind that I would stand for reelection if I had a chance to get this legislation through and impound about eighty-five percent of the guns in Colorado. When plans for the raid became a reality, I treated myself to ma.s.sive doses of mendacity, the ancient art of lying to oneself. I lied, I made dirty deals, I was very selective of people's rights, I put a lot of folks in harm's way, I endangered the careers of some very gifted people. I went into Urbakken clean and escaped by a miracle. I went into AMERIGUN tainted and again escaped clean, except for those sad Jensen brothers. Am I cursed to have to always ride in on wings of a raven? Must I blow up half of the state to prove my point? Do the people really want a cowboy?""Well, right now they've got one," Mal snapped back."You are their hero, Quinn," Rita said."I love you guys," Quinn whispered, "and I know what you are thinking but dare not say. Play it cool for your next term, Quinn, then go take a shot at the presidency." Quinn had balled up both fists. "Nothing," he banged out, "nothing can happen, no disaster can befall so great as to go through the agony of Bill and Hillary Clinton. Nothing," he said, "nothing, nothing, nothing."

THE WHITE HOUSE, 2007From the get-go Thornton invoked a formal operation of the White House. It was a more serious place with a serious dress code. No more roller-blading in the halls outfitted like a member of the chorus of Guys and Dolls.Serious young people were nominated for internship by serious Republicans. No more liberal punk kids. No more showing of thigh or cleavage and improper hairdos.Intimacy among staff was more risky.Under control, the hordes of legislators, consultants, media, public relations hired guns, and lobbyists entered a correct and hallowed place.Daringly, the press facility near the Oval Office was exiled to the nearby Executive Building. The media went into a rage. Darnell knew that this was one the President could win. After the media debacles at the end of the last century, the public was delighted that the press was learning manners.Thornton Tomtree was the first fully computerized president. Heinstalled a crew of the finest computer a.n.a.lysts. No matter what thech.o.r.e, background on a political appointee, weather in Alaska, cabinetmeeting, they could dissect and translate information faster than anylike team in the world. Tomtree went into his meetings withup-to-the-second data, the sway of public opinion, every nuance of the financial world.Darnell Jefferson had the run of the place. He pulled together a public relations staff of rare genius to counter any idea that the Oval Office was rigid.With his first years scandal free, the nation's social agenda was soon overtaken by power bestowed on the corporate world, allegedly to keep America as the only superpower.If Thornton was smart about one thing, it was human greed. Every American owned some. His programs were designed so the public saw a payoff for them.Pucky had grown into a stylish sixty-year-old. She and the President had been long unfamiliar with one another's bed. This did not result in her anger, but in a strange sense, it gave her freedom. She did all the First Lady things, often adding spice and humor and throwing the most elegant banquets in memory.Thornton understood her value and rewarded her by endowing the cultural scene.I am sleeping and I can't wake up! I can't wake up! Where the h.e.l.l is Pucky? Where am II It will be daylight, and O'Connell is addressing the nation .. . enormous consequence.Where the h.e.l.l is Pucky?"Mr. President," my steward, Eric, repeated, pulling me out of a deep, confusion-filled sleep. I pointed at my mouth. He handed me a gla.s.s of mouthwash and held a spittoon, then put drops into my eyes."It is four A.M." Mr. President, two o'clock Rocky Mountain time."That got my attention. I asked for Darnell's whereabouts. Eric had hunted him down before he awakened me. Darnell was tied up for ten minutes or so in the press room. "Hold my calls until Darnell can brief me," I ordered.Come on, Darnell, G.o.d dammit! That's funny. The first time I said those words to him was when we were teenagers.

Darnell Jefferson, the first black billionaire in American historyhe who sat on three dozen corporate boards, he who endowed the black community and colleges handsomely, he who personally went to Moscow as the Soviet Union was breaking up and snared the twenty best computer scientists in the country for T3, he who talked me into building a pleasure palace for my workers which became the model for all industry, he who, he who, and so forth and so forth.

Well, I've done d.a.m.ned well for Darnell .. . and he's done right well for me. He is the only one whom I can trust in this vacuum I carry. I trust no one in there but him. Suppose we had never met? Suppose he had decided not to spend his life keeping my public image pure and dynamic?On New Year's Eve of 1999 I told him I was going to make a run for the presidency in 2004. Darnell was way ahead of me and charted out a brilliant campaign.We rode to the White House right after the turn of the century. The care, feeding, and control of the Internet had created great answers and greater confusion.All of a sudden the world had potentially three billion would-be writers, not only with free and unfettered access, but hidden by anonymity.The great computer firms were bent on speed and shrinking chips. Packaging, marketing them were the berries. Compet.i.tion had become slaughterhouse-mean and fighting off an ant.i.trust suit the most n.o.ble form of corporate life. No one seemed to have a vision of the future, or where this electronic colossus was taking us.Darnell took a team of experts and science writers and Grafted a ma.n.u.script: The T3 Commonsense Guideline for International Internet Ethics: A Primer for the 21st Century.I wrote the final draft and subsidized a major publisher to put it onthe market. d.a.m.ned if it didn't sell over a million copies in thebookstores and another million over the various web sites. I made T3Commonsense a must in every convention and salesroom at sweetheart prices and sent hundreds of thousands of copies to schools and universities.Like According to Hoyle and Burke's Peerage before it, T3 Commonsense established the rules of the road on a road sorely needing them. I had taken my first step on the golden carpet which climaxed with my election as president of the United States.All the above may sound funny to you in light of the nation coming out of the closet by the end of the nineties. However, many of the things we let out of the closet would serve us better if they were shoved back in.The point of this is to say, I myself, Thornton Tomtree, am a clean, moral, progressive, self-made entrepreneur.The Four Corners Ma.s.sacre was not my doing, but it happened on my watch. Darnell Jefferson and Pucky literally forced me to travel a nation in mourning and share the people's grief.Awkward and stumbling in the beginning, I learned the art of compa.s.sion. Even though I never personally knew or understood it. I acted it out, people responded to my "sincerity".. . I never felt the depth of their anguish. Isn't that what a leader is all about: not to go down in an ash heap, but demonstrate strength and ability to endure after a tragedy?If a leader felt pain in every flood, hurricane, shooting, epidemic, school bus overturning ... he would cave in and no longer be a leader.Darnell and Pucky forced enough of the mundane stuff into me to help me regain my position for reelection.Speaking of tragedy! I was gaining on Governor O'Connell in the polls, and at the Great Debate I expected to bury him. I blew it! As for Pucky's part in this, it is history better left, unwritten.We are now less than two weeks away from the presidential election of 2008. I'm not doing so well. Or am I?Why, out of clear blue sky, did O'Connell call for national TV coverage of an announcement?

Darnell came in with a handful of pages. He glimpsed at the dark suit Eric had laid out. "Put away that mourning outfit," Darnell ordered Eric. "I want the President to wear a green sports jacket and open collar.""Darnell.. .""A lot of folks downstairs need their morale lifted."No use arguing over so trifling a matter."What's the latest?""We have some data from the NYPD. This Ben Horowitz visit seems to have set off some kind of chain reaction in the O'Connell camp. Ben Horowitz is a detective lieutenant, thirty years' service, semi-retired or detached to teach at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Horowitz's father was a professor of Russian studies at NYU. Horowitz's own expertise is missing persons.""Got any photos?"I lifted my magnifying gla.s.s, studying the pictures. "There may be a resemblance, there may not be. I can't tell from these. What else?" Tomtree asked."I've spoken personally to our main man inside the Church hierarchy. There are no official records in Church adoption files about O'Connell's birth. Two people were intimately involved in the adoption, namely, Cardinal Watts of Brooklyn and a Monsignor Gallico, both deceased. They did this on behalf of a priest who was Siobhan O'Connell's brother but gave him no details. He is also deceased. The convent that raised and delivered O'Connell to Colorado could not give us any information as to the child's biological parents."I liked what I was hearing. Some kind of moral blister was ready topop, the kind the media could seize on to devour whomever. Sure,Horowitz and O'Connell were connected. Yes, I have turned a corner,and the polls in a few days would see me back in the lead. The miracleof my reelection would happen. It would be an upset even greater thanTruman's defeat of Dewey. I was chomping at the bit. Was there a wayto find out what O'Connell was going to say before he went on? If so, we could be planning our counter strike right now."You're drooling, Thornton," Darnell said."You bet I am. If Horowitz senior was an academic teaching Russian, there has to be an FBI file on him."Darnell gave me a "s.h.i.t for brains" look. "Wait, for Christ's sake. Do not fart with FBI files. Do not jump the gun and step into a pile of s.h.i.t. We will know in a matter of a few hours. I believe O'Connell has painted himself into a corner. It has to be good news for us."

COLON, PANAMA, 2007The free-trade zone at Colon was a long hour's drive from Panama City. The zone sat plunk in the middle of the north south axis of the Western Hemisphere and was the transit point of anything and everything going up to North America and down to South America. Anything, everything.The town itself epitomized a thieving, seedy, peeled, steamy, muddy-floody, baking, dangerous Central American place where eyes and ears seemed behind every corner and wall in a greedy hunt for deals.Red Peterson, an old West Texas wildcatter, was scarcely moved to perspire even though the overhead fan grunted its last days.Across from Red sat Moshe Rosenthal in ear locks beard, yarmulke, and prayer shawl. He took an envelope from his safe and handed it over the desk to Red.The envelope contained a blue-white seventeen-carat diamond, in a diamond cut. The stone was a blinder."Now, which South American dictator's wife did this little gem come off of?" Red asked.Moshe held up his hands in innocence."Did you set your price on this?"

"Mas o' minus.""For you and only you, a hundred and fifty thousand."Red replaced the diamond in its envelope, folded it securely, placed it in his top shirt pocket, and b.u.t.toned it. He signed an IOU marker to Rosenthal which the jeweler could cash later at Villa Hans Pedro Oberg, one of the main clearinghouses and banks of Colon."You made a good buy," Rosenthal said. "It might be a little risky to sell it as one stone. If so, it could fetch over a half million. I'll give you the name of a tip-top merchant on Forty seventh Street in New York. He can figure out the cuts like no one else. He'll double your money.""Moses, you know I don't deal in this c.r.a.p. This is just a little present for the big, tall Swedish bombsh.e.l.l I'm married to.""Such a stone for your wife! Well, it will look beautiful in a necklace setting.""It's like this, Moshe. I got her this G-string.""A G-string, you know, a G-string?" Red said tentatively.He stood up and pretended he was wearing a G-string. "Up the left side, I call that first base, the string has a row of little rubies. Up the right side, I call that third base, a row of emeralds. This diamond is going right in at home place.""You're such a romantic," Moshe said.The teakettle whistled. How the f.u.c.k can he drink hot tea? Red always wondered. He never winced, but it annoyed him whenever he saw Moshe Rosenthal's concentration camp tattoo. Moshe produced a bottle of Red's stuff. They clicked on the deal; prayers would be said tonight at shul."You delivered a h.e.l.l of an order here. Some guys were around this morning looking for your pilot, Cliff Morgan. Apparently some kind of parachute drop.""Smells like CIA, doesn't it, Moshe?""The guns are going into the Sierra Maestra Mountains in Cuba to a halfdozen anti-Castro guerilla bands. Strange, I remember in fifty-nine or sixty when the Americans parachuted guns to Castro back in the Sierra Maestra.""Nothing changes," Red said. He looked outside. It was darkening for the daily downpour. "Guns coming out of the United States, sold to the CIA in Colon, and flown into rebel Cuban camps. At the same time I'm going to buy Bulgarian AK's for shipment from Colon to the United States."Red caught forty seconds of hard rain and reached Kelley's Klub dripping. Cliff Morgan occupied a table with a half-dead bottle and a dancer on his lap. Christ, Red thought, that little concita reminds me of why a fellow can never go on a diet of straight blondes."Aren't you going to introduce me to your little friend?" Red said on entering."This is Choo-Choo," Cliff said. "Her and her sister, Candi, do a real artistic number together. They'd like to be broadened by a mature man."Red took his hotel key out and handed it to ChooChoo. "Arrange to get off about nine or ten o'clock," Red said, "I'll square it with Kelley."She took the key. Red's hand felt the beautiful curve of her hip and she left."Thanks," Red said to Cliff."My treat," Cliff answered. Red wished to h.e.l.l Cliff Morgan had paid the installment on his jet."I hear the CIA was looking for you.""Yeah, they want me to fly our delivery in a transport and drop them in the Sierra Maestra. Fifty thousand in it.""You take the job?""After I finish up our charter. When we leaving?""I've got a little business at the Villa. Was going to leave tonight, but Choo-Choo and Koo-Koo .. . well, tomorrow morning. File a flight plan for Lubbock."The guards pa.s.sed the Villa Pedro Oberg's limo through the gates. Red emerged and with Hans Pedro disappeared into the safe room that had no eyes or ears. It was one of the most protected civilian buildings from the Rio Grande to the tip of Argentina.The f.u.c.king little Swiss banker, Claus Von Manfried, was at hand to pick up droppings of the deals. Could he operate! He spread the large accounts into a half dozen to a dozen banks, all numbered and inaccessible accounts."Let's see what I've got here," Hans Pedro said. "I have a verification of the pieces you sent down. Payable to you in the sum of two million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Minus four hundred and seventy thousand you owe for the Bulgarian AK's.""Yeah, I owe Moshe Rosenthal a hundred and fifty thousand.""Have you verified your purchase?""Yeah, I checked this morning. They're all there. They'll be going up on a Greek freighter, Kaspos. What have I got left over?" Clauf Von Manfried's calculator added in bribes, transportation, Hans Pedro Oberg's clearinghouse fees."Slightly under a million.""What're my total deposits?" "Thirty million in eight accounts."Red scratched his head. "Bank a half million of the new money and give me the rest in cash.""I'll prepare it, sir."You bet your sweet a.s.s you'll prepare it, you Swiss fart, Red thought to himself. "I'll pick it up at six in the morning."Handshakes and curt nods all the way around.Red smirked as he left the villa. Bunch of thieves, he thought. But then Coo-Coo and Du-Du would be ... waiting .. . and, he broke into his first smile in days, Greta would wear the G-string. Not a bad deal.

Hosanna Corner in the G.o.dforsaken outskirts of G.o.dforsaken Lubbock had ministered to the righteous and the sinner in its alternative histories. Hosanna Corner had come into being after the Civil War as the last watering hole before the wagon trains plunged into the southwest desert.Nearly a century later, during the heyday of the West Texas oil strike, it naturally evolved into a saloon with gambling and prost.i.tution amenities. When the oil patch collapsed, thousands lost it all and were left with land that could scarcely grow a crop.Lubbock turned into a mean and nasty place where the American dream had betrayed the wildcatters, roughest of all men.Hosanna Corner returned to a sense of grace as a local gathering house where a variety of Christian sects tried to gain a foothold among the discontent.This was a big meeting night. Pa.s.swords and identification were required. Red Peterson entered and spotted a lone chair in the rear. The big main floor had been reconfigured with tables removed and chairs set up in auditorium style.Red seated himself, alone, tilted his chair against the wall, andsquinted at the cast of characters. On one side of the bar, a posterof a lynched Negro. On the other side, a photograph of the Waco burning. The bar served as an altar, bearing a standing cross. Klansmen unhooded themselves, feeling relief to be among their own. More secret greetings.Now a half dozen Oregon skin heads tacked a poster of Adolf Hitler on a wall.Words across the back bar mirror told them that YAW EH IS here!A dozen men wearing silk shirts adorned with an orange cross and anorange quasi-swastika took their seats in the first row. These werethe new preachers to be sworn in to the White Aryan ChristianArrival,WACA.The room lowered to dim light, a reminder that most of their work was carried out in darkness.Members of the West Texas Militia, sporting tattoos and Uzis and gigantic mustaches and red bandanas, encircled the chairs."This is an important meeting," a Klansman opened. "We are gathered to swear in a dozen new preachers of the White Aryan Christian Arrival."As the Klansman lay fist against heart, the room leapt to its feet and returned the salute. The chant of "White power!" resonated, shaking the Hosanna Corner to its foundation.The dozen new preachers took their oath of office.".. . we will cleanse this nation of ethnic adulteration. We will defend the purity of our women against mongrel infestation and our children from heathen perverts and h.o.m.os.e.xuals. We swear all this in the name of Jesus Christ and the memory of His forgotten son, Adolf Hitler.""White power! White power! White power!""And now the moment has come to hail our spiritual leader, the moderator of the White Aryan Christian Arrival .. . Pastor Ed Jenkins .. . Pastor Ed."Cheers, half bows, arm-thrusted salutes welcomed Pastor Ed to thealtar. They hoorayed a small bespectacled man, everyone's Uncle Ed dressed in polyester civilian clothing, frayed and unkempt, a tireless worker for the movement.Red Peterson snuck a drink, as did a fair number of flask carriers about the room."There are government spies here tonight," Pastor Ed began. "Look at your neighbor. Is he one of them?""No!""As you know, brothers, I have been discharged from prison when the foul and dishonest government dropped their sedition case against me. But for six months I moldered in a stinking cell amid s.e.xual deviates, drug addicts, Mexicans, rapists, and murderers, all for the crime of trying to defend my blessed wife and our four blessed children from a government terrorist raid in the middle of the night by the so-called Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms."The hissing and booing zoomed round and round the room, and the stomping and pounding caused the place to rumble.Pastor Ed held up his hands for silence."I was beaten unconscious by the aTF. people, who then planted drugs and firearms around my house, ripped the place to pieces, and carted off my legal weapons that we must have to defend ourselves from governmental tyranny."The whiny-modulated voice now opened into that of a rasping serpent with flicking tongue:"In that da