Don Pendleton - Civil War II (17 page)

A distant, echoing rumble of constantly building magnitude approached from the Northwest. Woodrow yelled into his transmitter, "
That's it\ Free-fire now, and bring it all downl"

CHAPTER 1

The
blast,
a rumbling series of explosions, awoke Mike Winston with a start. He dropped his feet from the footstool and sat bolt upright in a chair, confused, trembling, and not immediately certain of his surroundings. I hen he recognized the unfamiliar scene deep within the stands of the old Oakland Raider stadium. He'd been brought to Abe Williams' office shortly after midnight, and had paced the floor for hours until fatigue had finally forced him to the chair.

His watch was stopped on a few minutes before twelve, broken during the brief wrestling match with the big troopers when he landed in the Warhole, and he had absolutely no idea of the time of day nor how long he had slept. The small office was windowless. Winston banged on the door and yelled, then paced for several minutes before he heard the snap of the door-lock mechanism. A big trooper stood there, regarding him with a lopsided grin.

"What was that explosion?" Winston asked him.

"Don't worry about that," the soldier replied. "Come on. Mr. Williams says to bring you up."

The guy turned his back on him and walked away. Winston followed him along the network of corridors up the tiered stands of the old press box.

Williams was there with General Bogan and a swarm of uniformed men, ail wearing headsets and jotting things on clipboards. Mayor Harvey was there also, bleary-eyed with fatigue but standing stiff and straight and intently watching the fireworks across the bay. The sounds of heavy artillery and rattling gunfire were carrying easily across the miles of waterway, and all eyes in the pressbox were riveted on the towering columns of smoke which were erupting from numerous quarters over there.

Williams showed the new arrival a tired smile and told him, "I thought you deserved a look at this."

"What was the big boom a few minutes ago?" Winston wanted to know.

"That big boom," Williams replied quietly, "was the death knell for the city of San Francisco. Specifically, it was the sound of that once proud engineering masterpiece, the Golden Gate Bridge, withstander of wind and waves and salt-water corrosion, being unceremoniously lowered into the cold waters of the Golden Gate. Splash, splash."

"Congratulations," Winston said drily. "I'm sure you're enjoying the sounds of a civilization collapsing. Pardon me if I don't cheer."

"You hear any cheering up here?" the black leader growled. "Just be quiet and watch, Winston. Some day you can tell your grandkids about it."

"Fat chance," the white man muttered. He left Williams standing there and went on around the curved press box until he reached General Bogan.

The military chief was perched on a stool and almost surrounded by status display boards, grimly watching the action across the bay through a powerful set of binoculars hoisted to his face.

"Now there's a sight for an American ganeral," Winston said by way of greeting.

Bogan lowered the glasses and gave Winston a quick once-over. "For what it's worth, Mike, I'm glad to see you in a single piece."

"What's going on over there, General?"

"Hell is going on over there, Michael. Sheer hell. And don't ever let anyone con you into believing that a general

enjoys the sight of bloodshed." He went back to his glasses, and Winston began studying the display boards.

"Kind of Mickey Mouse for a U.S. military operation, i n't it?" he observed quietly. "I mean . . . this command post you've got here."

Without lowering the binoculars, Bogan replied, "You wouldn't think so if you were at the Pentagon right now. We're in full combat order—don't for a moment think otherwise. This is my remote set-up. Mickey Mouse maybe, but good enough."

"So it's nationwide."

"Of course it's nationwide."

Winston raised a hand to his forehead and turned blindly toward Abe Williams. The civil leader caught the look, sighed, and came over to join him.

"Okay, I've seen it," Winston muttered. "Now show me the wall and get it over with."

"Why should I stand you to a wall, Commissioner? You're a talented and versatile man. We can use those talents in the
new
republic."

"That'll be the Goddamned day," Winston replied in a choked voice.

"Maybe, maybe. We'll see. For now you've got free run of the place, Winston. Just don't give us a hard time. The moment for heroics is past. And the moment for soul-searching is fast approaching. Just be ready."

"For what?" Winston growled.

"For saying goodbye to yesterday. We're all going to have to say it sooner or later. May as well be later. Come on, I think the patch is working now to the military command radio. Jackson? You want to listen in?"

General Bogan had been watching the two men in quiet speculation. He responded to the query by sliding off the stool and gently shoving Mike Winston toward the far end of the press box, where a large electronic panel had been cmplaced.

"Update me nationally," Williams requested of the General.

"Smooth, very smooth," Bogan replied. "We caught the whole country with its pants down. Not just at half-mast,

but flopping about the ankles. No resistance, excepted isolated instances of damn-foolism. Most people don't seem to realize what's happening yet. We moved an armored column from Arlington across to Washington and right down Pennsylvania Avenue. It was past nine o'clock there, streets full of people, buildings filled with workers. People just stood and watched like it was a parade—even waved, some of them. Ritter's man in Washington says everybody's wondering where all the government blacks went—they can't quite grasp the meaning of an all-white Washington^—except for troops, of course. We had forty thousand troops in the city as of about ten' minutes ago and not a shot has yet been fired."

"Hell, I can't believe that," Winston grumbled.

"Why not?" Williams asked. "You were in that city yourself yesterday. Why can't you believe it?"

"So what's going to happen to them when they wake up?" Winston asked soberly.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Bogan told him. "We have no need to get tough. Every military installation in the area is ours—for that matter, in the entire nation. That means every military vehicle, every weapon, every chunk of ammo. They made the mistake of dissolving the standing army and hiring black replacements to mind the store, and they compounded the error by placing all the weapons in storage and placing most of that even in the care of black storekeepers. We simply walked in and took it. Now they can call the militia until they're hoarse. Where will the white militia assemble? What will they use for weapons?"

"All over like that?" Winston asked, choking on the words.

"Sure all over," the General replied. "It was so easy it's almost pitiful. I never saw a country so ripe for a bloodless coup."

"So why are you spiffing blood?" Winston wanted to know.

Abe Williams handled that one. "Call it a drum-roll," he said coldly. "We are commanding attention."

"You'll get it," the white man told them. "You guys have bought yourselves more of a war than you realize.

this is a nation of gun lovers. There's hardly a home in the country that doesn't have some sort of gun."

Bogan placed a hand on the white man's shoulder and i iid, "Listen, Mike. I'll give you the best rifle we have, and allthe ammo you can carry on your back. And I'll arm as many of your friends you can round up, in exactly the same m:inner. Do you think then you'll be ready to go up against military armor and combat-trained troops?"

"I might not be ready, but I'd go," Winston maintained stubbornly.

"You might
think
so. But those who think so have never challenged the authority of a tank, using a 30.06 as his primary weapon. No. Uh-uh. Most men know better. They may throw a clip of ammo into their rabbit guns, but they're not going to go challenging a tank or weapons-company. I'll tell you precisely what they are going to do with those rabbit guns. They will gather their families n round them, and they will barricade themselves inside their homes, and they will sit there and dare some black bastard to try to come in and rape their women." The general smiled. "But we don't want their women. We want them to barricade themselves inside their homes and sweat, and maybe even get a little hungry. And a little humble."

"You might be right," Winston said quietly.

"Sure," The General turned his attention to Abe Williams. "Even the civil police are helpless and most of them already know it. We've had a few scraps with them around the country, but as soon as they realize they're up against artillery and massive power, they forget that fierce pride of ownership and decide it's not a police matter."

William nodded curtly, as though hearing nothing surprising. "How about Ritter's operation? Everything neatly dispatched?"

"You don't have to ask me. Just look at Norm. He's getting his reports from Sacramento now. He already told me they got the Governor and the Attorney General, and from the way he's gloating I'd say they got just about everybody on the list. Uh, you know about the Washington side."

Somberly, Williams said, "Yes, I know."

"What is this, what's been dispatched?" Winston wanted to know, his eyes sick and already knowing.

"If you want a word," Williams replied in cool tones, "the word is
assassination.
I can't help it if it's in the vocabulary of warfare. Now be quiet and we'll tune in on the command nets." He pushed the white man toward the makeshift console, adding, "I especially want
you
to hear the play by play. I want you to see what we're
capable
of doing, as opposed to what we are
not
doing everywhere. Call it a lesson in black restraint."

Somehow Winston almost expected to awaken any moment and discover that he'd used that packet of Expando at the American Church, after all. He moved woodenly to the console and dropped into a chair offered by General Bogan, then cupped his chin in his hands and glared at the dials and instruments of the console.

"I don't hear anything," he murmured.

"You will," Bogan assured him.

Abruptly, a speaker came alive with a whine and a crackle of background sounds of warfare, and a youthful voice announced, "Big Deal One from Big Deal Leader. What's away down there?"

The reply was muffled and punctuated by the roar of heavy artillery, bringing the war right into the press box. "This's Big Deal One. The Walks of Jericho have tumbled down. Now working on the Tower of Babel."

"Federal Center and Opera House," Bogan quickly explained, for Winston's benefit.

"Roger, Big Deal One. I'm rejoining. Leader out."

"Can I talk to that boy from here?" Abe Williams asked.

The General's eyebrows elevated slightly. "Sure, but . . ." He reached beneath the table and produced a hand mike.

"But what?"

"Well he's busy as a cat covering up shit, you know."

"Yes, I know," Williams murmured. He took the mike and depressed the button. "Big Deal Leader, this is Top Man. Do you read?"

"Top Man from Leader. I read, sir."

"How's the war going?"

The only immediate reply was a long burst of rapid fire from a heavy machine gun. Then: "Sorry, Top man, I'm right under the fifty mount. Some nut in a hover, taking potshots with a pistol. Had to bring 'im down. Say again your last, Top Man."

Bogan and Winston exchanged glances, Winston's proclaiming
See, I told you,
and the General's replying,
But who won?

"I asked how the war is going," Williams was repeating.

"Oh. Going fine, sir. Just like Big Boy said it would."

"Good. How do you feel about the operation?"

"How do I feel, sir?" Part of the reply was muffled by the sound of distant artillery. ". . . out of a coccoon, sir. It looks like everything is well in hand."

"Good boy. What's your present position?"

"Just departed Cave Dwellings, sir. Proceeding outbound on Geary, then south on Van Ness to rejoin Big Deal Gang."

Bogan whispered to Wilson, "Cave Dwellings is code for the hotel district around Union Square."

"Standby one, Big Deal Leader," Williams snapped. He released the transmitter button and looked at Jackson Bogan. "What's he doing down around the caves?" he asked.

"Just re-conning," the General replied. "We don't want to start blasting Union Square until the people have had a chance to get out. The public address cars are still in there, urging everyone to evacuate."

"Watch this exercise in restraint, Winston," Williams said. "Jack, get over on the other net and order High Deal to activate Plan Charlie immediately."

Bogan hesitated, his face contorting in some indecision.

Williams snapped, "Well is it feasible or not?"

Bogan shrugged his shoulders. "I guess if we watched it closely . . ."