A state of disobedience (14 page)

"That bitch has done
what
?"

Vega was as furious as her President. Her rage punctuated every syllable she spoke. "She did it, Willi. Her bastards took over the Western Currency Facility in Fort Worth. And they did it without a shot being fired. Reports are still . . . umm . . .  fragmentary. But there's no doubt they've taken over the building."

McCreavy burst into the Oval Office. "Willi, we have a situation here. Fort Hood, Fort Bliss and even Fort Sam Houston, in San Antonio, are being surrounded by fully armed units of the Texas National Guard. They moved soldiers up in private vehicles while half our troops were leaving for home after their morning physical training. Then they came out, arrested the MPs at the gates and declared the posts closed. Heavy forces are moving up to reinforce the ones who came first."

Vega's cell phone began to ring. She answered it, flashing Rottemeyer a semi-apologetic look. As she listened her face visibly whitened. "My God," was all she could manage to say in return.

As Vega disconnected her phone, she turned uncomprehending eyes at Rottemeyer. "I don't understand, Willi. It isn't supposed to be like this."

"For God's sake
what
has happened, Jesse?"

"They're arresting all of our people down there. Everyone. EPA. Surgeon General's Office. IRS. FBI. U.S. Attorneys. Everyone."

Again Vega's cellphone buzzed. Her face grew yet more ashen. "Willi . . . the two senators from Texas . . . and they apparently have some support from elsewhere . . . have introduced a motion in the Senate to ask the House of Representatives to impeach you."

Sweating despite the season, a remarkably animated and excited Nagy spoke into a telephone in the governor's office. "That's right, Captain. I want every federal agent in the state under arrest before tomorrow morning. Every single one of them. No, I don't care about charging them, not yet. Just get them behind some wire. What if some escape? Right . . .  good question. Let me think . . . ummm . . . okay, just let them go. The important thing is to restrict their freedom here. If they are in Oklahoma, there's not much they can do in Texas."

All around the office couriers walked briskly to and fro, bringing news of accomplishments, and occasional setbacks. One such placed a file folder in front of the governor. Busy preparing to address the state legislature, the governor simply shrugged and said, "Later."

Outside of the governor's office, the air at the capitol building was tense beyond anything known in the history of Texas since they had fought for independence from Mexico in the 1830s. Even secession in 1861 had not brought with it the sense of sheer
imminence
that the Seguin government's moves had. Then, like many in the seceding Southlands, Texans had thought their successful secession a "sure thing," an accomplished fact. That illusion had been blasted in the American Civil War. Now, however, few maintained any illusions that reasserting a measure of state sovereignty was more than a forlorn hope. Yet, each man and woman asked themselves, "What else can we do but try?"

Still preparing her speech, the governor continued to pay little notice to the comings and goings of those around her. An occasional voice called out the name of an arrestee, which name the governor subconsciously filed away.

One name, however, did get her attention. Juanita heard, "San Antonio City Police caught Harold Forsythe trying to get a flight out of the state in company with his 'legal advisor.' Our erstwhile 'Commissioner for the State of Texas' was dressed in drag. 'Kind of tastefully,' " said the arresting officer. At the name, Forsythe, Juanita immediately took notice.

Even as Nagy said, "Put the shark and the Kommissar on the flight," Juanita countermanded, "
That
one, Forsythe, I want brought to me. Before we let him go I want to give him a message."

At that moment Schmidt, returned from Fort Worth by helicopter, burst in. "We've got it, Juani, we've got it."

The room erupted in cheers.

"We took it intact, too. Everything we need for months of operation: presses, paper, ink; the
works
! A bunch of the folks that work there—most of them, in fact—agreed to stay on provided we paid them their regular wage."

Ralph Minden spoke up, "That's a weapon in our hands, Governor. Whatever Washington decides to do, they'll do it with the specters of runaway inflation or economic stagnation looking over their shoulders."

Schmidt added, "It'll pay for a better defense, too, Juani, if and when we actually have to fight."

Juanita shrugged. "We agreed, Jack, that if we fight, we lose. Leaving aside the economic consequences, if Rottemeyer wins, a President who fought and won on her own authority, this country will be in a lockdown like we have never even had nightmares about."

"Sure Juani, we agreed. Even I agree. But if nothing else we have planned works, we'll end up fighting anyway. I'd rather do it better armed than worse."

Juanita didn't answer. She had every intention of ordering her own forces to lay down their arms before it came to fighting if that was the only way to end things short of bloodshed. Of course, she didn't intend to tell anyone that.

"Fine, then," she told Schmidt. "What do you need? Where do you think you can get it? What will it cost? And how will we pay?"

Schmidt, scratching beside his nose, answered, "Well . . . with a federal mint to do our purchasing, I don't see a problem with paying," He grinned. A mint couldn't
counterfeit
the money it printed as a matter of course. "Cost? Hell, we're just starting to figure that out. We've got a fair number of people, tens of thousands really, flocking to join us. A lot of them have guns they buried when Washington started taxing them so heavily. But even there, a lot of them, most really, are non-standard. So I would want at least compatible small arms. I imagine we could buy those almost anywhere and ship them through Mexico."

"All right. When you know what you need, bring it to me and we'll see. And now, if you will forgive me, I have a speech to prepare."

DIRECT EXAMINATION, CONTINUED

BY MR. STENNINGS:
Q. Alvin, what did you think about the things Texas started doing after the massacre . . . 
MS. CAPUTO: Objection, Your Honor. That kind of inflammatory language— 
MR. STENNINGS: Withdrawn, Judge.
Q. After the mission, Alvin. What did you think about what Texas did after the mission was destroyed?
A. I've got to confess, I was so sheerly tickled when the governor went to the legislature and asked for a law declaring income tax withholding for the feds illegal in the state. Didn't change the withholding, mind you, just sent it straight to the state.
Now, I didn't see the TV when the governor spoke. I was a little busy fixing up my truck, packin' a few things, figurin' out the map and all. Well, I never was too good with a map. So I missed the governor when she came on TV.
But my friends who saw it told me about it. Said the governor used some mighty strong words speakin' to the legislature about federal income tax. "No matter what the Supreme Court may have said, tyranny long endured does not equal law . . . 'Disobedience to tyranny is obedience to God.' " They told me she said that the income tax was illegal from the beginning, never properly made part of the Constitution. Never . . . ratified? Is that the word, Mr. Stennings? Well, if that really was true, I guess that means they were pickin' my pocket every two weeks for most of my life.
The other thing was, she and the legislature said no Texas corporation could pay corporate income tax either. That didn't sit too well with me, the fat cats getting over and all. But my friends said that when the governor explained it, it made sense. See, the corporations never did pay any tax. It was all smoke and mirrors, a sales tax—we were used to that in Texas, of course—pretending to be an income tax. The big corporations? They just raised their prices to cover the tax they paid, plus a little more profit for themselves. So it was just me and folks like me that were payin' the big corporations' income tax. "Obtaining money under false pretenses," the governor said it was. That, and "We aren't going to roll for their scam, anymore, either."
Anyway, the governor's bill passed by a pretty good margin.

The President's office was bright with the sun, but dark with anger and—more than a little—with despair, frustration and sheer worry. Things were simply
not
supposed to happen like this; not to
her
, certainly. Rottemeyer had never in her worst nightmares envisioned the kind of resistance she had generated in Texas, the kind of hatred. She thrived on being loved and worshipped. Indeed, every step of her life had been devoted to purchasing love and worship; albeit generally with other people's money. This change in her fortunes was both unexpected and deeply demoralizing; not least demoralizing to the Cabinet that had had such faith in her.

Privately, Rottemeyer thought of her Cabinet as the "Four F's": "flunkies, flics, flacs and fairies." The first three described, respectively, those who did her job for her, those who arrested those who made her job more difficult, and those who dealt with the press. The last, the "fairies," were scattered about the first three groups, each "fairy" representing cash payment for the unquestioning support given Rottemeyer by much of the extremely influential gay community.

As the herd of "Four F's" droned on, Rottemeyer had rotated her chair around, in seeming contempt for her Cabinet. Still, eyes fixed elsewhere, her ears listened intently to what was being said . . . listened, and didn't like what they heard.

Treasury spoke last and to the President's back. "To my mind, Madam President, the most dangerous things the Texans have done are fiscal. General McCreavy can worry about their having increased their defense forces. I am not worried about that. Ultimately, even she agrees we could handle that problem, if not easily.

"The attorney general fears a breakdown of law and order across the country. That's specious nonsense; sorry. The Texans appear to be doing a fine job of controlling crime within their borders without any federal help. Though, with recent round-ups there, I concede that some Texan criminals are fleeing that state for the other forty-nine.

"The surgeon general's office worries about abortion rights. I think we can safely say that any Texan woman who wants an abortion can easily go to Oklahoma or Louisiana to get one. Women in New York, contrarily, seem safe from being forced to go to Texas to prevent them from having one. They can already not have one, even in New York, if they wish.

"The secretary of state worries about our influence in the world waning when we cannot exercise full power here at home. I submit to you, Madame President, that if we fail to exercise full power at home then to hell with our influence in the world.

"But this nullification of the income tax and other taxes? The grabbing of the Western Currency Facility? These are potentially disastrous."

Rottemeyer swung her chair around. "Explain," she demanded.

Treasury sighed. He knew the President was fully aware of what he was about to say. Yet, still, it had to be stated, and clearly.

"Texas provides something like seven point six percent of federal revenues. A good portion of that goes back to the state, of course, in the form of federal aid. Yet, overall, taxation of Texas and Texans is a profit-making endeavor for the federal government. About a six-cent profit on the dollar. Money from there, other less populated and more conservative states too, goes to paying for social programs all over the rest of the country. Madam President, your continued popularity with the voters depends on those programs."

Around the table heads nodded soberly. Few in Willi's Cabinet had any real illusions that her popularity and power—their own power as well—was, except for a small hard core, anything but bought and paid for through federal largesse. Certainly they had no doubt that it would not survive a significant decrease in federal payouts.

Treasury looked from face to face. Yes, he saw. He had the Cabinet's agreement, by and large. Even the attorney and surgeon generals, State and Interior, agreed.

"We can continue to print money, of course, and write checks that have no tax money to back them. That doesn't matter, per se. Yet the effect of doing so will be increased inflation, indirect taxation if you will. And
that
will also cost influence with the voters."

Rottemeyer scowled, "Can it, Seymour. In about five years. But these are all
leisurely
emergencies. Their consequences can't possibly be felt till this issue is resolved.
Plenty of time to head off that problem. Next?"

Treasury tried to go on in that vein. "But Madame President, my predictions—"

"Doesn't matter much what they predict, Willi," drawled Carroll. "I can tell you what our time limit is just like
that
," he said, snapping fingers. "We have until the next congressional elections to settle this problem. Not one day longer."

With this logic Rottemeyer agreed. They had until the next election.

Turning to Carroll, she asked, "Suppose everything Treasury says is true. The increased taxation, the inflation, the shortened revenues;
why
wouldn't the states around Texas side with us to bring that state back into the fold and reduce their own burdens?"

" 'Cause they hate our guts, Willi. Simple as that. Did you know that Louisiana, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Alabama and Mississippi have put guards around the houses of the state commissioners you appointed over them? 'To secure their persons,' that's pretty much what those states say. Horseshit! They're under house arrest plain and simple. Arizona's and New Mexico's legislatures went into special session last night to debate nullifying the income tax in those states. I don't think those measures will pass, not yet. But, Willi, they hate us. And if we don't control this thing we're all going to end up with ropes around our necks." Carroll laughed aloud to see three cabinet members unconsciously reach fingers up to massage necks still unstretched.