Читать книгу The Face of Freedom - Benjamin Vance - Страница 8

Representative Parker was a nice enough man for a politician. He was a New Jersey transplant and Julie and her older brother had been born in Montana. She seemed like a nice kid even though she had a chance to be rather spoiled. Parker wasn’t an ideologue, but had a few solid opinions about what his mission was and where the MSA was going … nowhere really! The bunch came to party and play soldier and Parker was the policeman that kept them in check. He was not their sole leader. Who was … was anybody’s guess? It was Thursday and he would have to wait until Saturday evening to address the whole bunch. However, as the word of his presence spread, he suspected the leader would come out of the woodwork. That night, he surely did.

There were many more for evening meal than had been there at noon. Julie was in attendance at her father’s side. She looked scrubbed and beautiful. She reminded him of Linda and he imagined she could have been his daughter. Her mother was on the way according to Ridge Parker. Just about dessert time a broad man who wore the plastered expression of a used car salesman came through the mess hall doors with a beautiful woman in tow.

They were both dressed in well-tailored camoflage outfits. Hers was a bit more tailored than his. She announced her purchased breasts with a cute lace camisole which was also camoflage print. She had a pink pistol attached to her belt. This was probably the real leader of the band, and his trophy-wife. He greeted the congressman first, then Julie with a predatory smile; then the walker. His wife was introduced as Isadora Lazenby. She nodded to everyone with an absent smile and a druggy condescension. His name was Ralph Lazenby. He smiled a lot.

The name rang a bell with the walker, but only vaguely. Ralph made a point of going to every table and greeting everyone. He got smiles and many stood to shake hands. Yep, he was the force behind the MSA, if there was one. Whether he could take them in the right direction or not was debatable.

Just after the Lazenby’s were finally seated, Mrs. Parker came in. Her name was Altrise, and she was as beautiful as her name. She was about ten pounds overweight, but it was distributed well and Parker beamed with delight at her presence. She kissed Julie and her husband and apologized to “Mr. Walker” for being late. She waved at everybody, including the Lazenby’s who chose to sit close to the opposite wall. Ralph waved back and Isadora (Isadora for God’s sake) smiled and wiggled her fingers in the general direction at something unseen and unimportant.

About twenty minutes later Ridge Parker stood up and tried to get everyone’s attention. He succeeded with the condescension of the Lazenby’s. Parker started with an obviously practiced political rhetoric, “My fellow MSA’ers, thank you for coming tonight. Also, thanks to our wonderful cooks (sparse applause).”

It was obvious to the walker, and any casual observer that many of these people weren’t sure of their alliances. He continued with, “We are privileged this evening to have many more of our members than usual for a Thursday evening. Obviously, we have a new guest. He will identify himself only as the walker (smattering of quick embarrassed laughs and comments). He comes from our friends down around Helena. I understand he took the shortcut over the White Fish Mountains and it only took him two and a half days. And ... Julie tells me he met our old mascot Hercules (light applause and cheers from some of the kids). In any case Mr. Walker will be here for a couple of days.”

Turning to the walker with a smile and then to his audience, “I hope he will enjoy our hospitality while he’s here. He’ll address our entire group Saturday night. In the meantime I hope every one of you can find it in your hearts to make him feel welcomed. His message has inspired others and maybe it will help develop cohesiveness within our group and a sense of cooperation with other groups like ours. I hear there are many others around our great nation who think like us and have the best interests of our country at heart. While knowing he will save his most important comments for the entire group on Saturday, I hope I can request Mr. Walker say a few words to our group tonight?”

He turned to the walker with his biggest pleading grin. Julie looked at him and he could see the “Please don’t embarrass my father.” on her face. He stood up to a smattering of applause and a few sneers from those seated with Lazenby.

“I have been called the walker. My name is of no consequence. What I try to do is my calling. There are more groups like yours than any of you can imagine. Each group is filled with secrecy and foreboding because our government does not like organizations like yours (comments and jeers to the government). Therefore, not many groups coordinate with one another. That is one thing I’m trying to promote; communication, coordination and political voice. Without political voice, our government has no reason to fear us. Divide and conquer is easy for any government.”

He was getting on his high-horse again---he did not want to go any further so he continued with, “I will try to outline a plan for all of us like-minded patriots on Saturday night. Right now I will answer questions if anyone has one.”

He was met with stone cold silence. He knew how the power struggle worked so he faked starting to sit down.

Immediately he was confronted with, “What’s your name?” from Lazenby. Several others at his table smirked and agreed, getting courage from Mr. Lazenby.

“My name is of no consequence. My message is the most important thing I can provide. I’m just a man with a message and a dream. My dream is that we can take back America from the politicians, Political Action Committees, and plutocrats that have Lady Liberty in a strangle hold. My dream is that we can unite all of the Patriot groups in the U.S. into one politically cohesive unit that will force our government to take notice and make citizens unafraid to voice their opinions.”

“Why should we believe a man that has no name and wants to build his own political power?” Lazenby shot back.

The walker thought for a moment ... just enough to make Lazenby think he’d hit a weak spot, then, “Mr. Lazenby, a man with no name cannot be elected to any legitimate position, political or otherwise. How can one aspire to greatness without a form of identification? Also, how can government spies locate and identify a man without a name? Yes, I have fingerprints on file and I have a name. However, I do not want my history to taint or infer credibility to any efforts of mine or accomplishment of yours.”

It took Lazenby several heartbeats to understand and formulate a response, “So, you’re telling me that you could be an escaped convict?”

“Yes, I suppose I could be. But, I could also be an ex-SEAL or Green Beret who’s fed up with our leadership. I could also be a college professor, scientist, or doctor.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then Julie broke the silence,“Are you going to tell us what we’re doing wrong?”

“No Julie, I can only tell you what you’re doing right and make suggestions about your defensive positions, your communications and how to plan for the future. I leave everything in your hands. Everyone here is educated and able to determine right from wrong. Beliefs; convictions in life are usually real simple. It is in the dying for your beliefs that it gets complicated. Your government thinks that no one wants to die for their beliefs nowadays. I don’t accept that.

“If they believe that many of us are willing to die for our freedom ... our freedom ... not their undeclared wars, then they’ll stop stealing our freedoms and start working for us again. In order to accomplish this, we need millions of like minds. We need millions of lions to guard and lead the sheep, and threaten the wolves. By joining groups like yours, members let it be known they want to be lions. They need to be given that spark, that impetus, that courage, to be willing to die like many of our forefathers did. Strength comes in numbers. Hopefully, none of us will have to die, but we must be willing to.”

It was house-mouse silent for at least fifteen seconds. He re-thought his comments and waited. One brave young man stood up and looking directly at the walker started to clap his hands and shouted “God Bless America, and God bless men like you walker.”

Others began to applaud; mostly young men and women. “These young people will save our country,” he thought. He almost forgot and tried to smile. He just looked at each one and then at the table. He looked toward Julie and caught her standing, applauding and smiling at him. After Julie stood up her father took the cue, stood up and took the walker’s hand like he was posing for a photo-op. He was!

The walker had resolved that with digital face recognition technology and high speed finger print retrieval it wouldn’t be long before Washington knew who he was and would attempt to discredit him. He considered it a foregone conclusion. He was just trying to get as much done as possible before that happened. He always had doubts about his mission, but he also felt the urgency that came with it. He had to talk to as many as possible before … what? Even if he was identified, perhaps his intent would still be considered genuine. After all, if the government tried to discredit him would it matter to the people he valued? Perhaps it would actually increase his credibility if the militia groups knew.

Ridge Parker rose to the occasion and asked if there were any more questions. One young man raised his hand and asked what plutocrats meant. The walker apologized for using that language and told him it meant “rich ruling class or governance by the wealthy”. The young man thanked him and sat down. There were no more questions. Ridge Parker then called for ice cream and everyone got up to take part. It evolved into an old fashioned ice cream social.

As everyone got their homemade ice cream, they started to talk in clutches and groups, gradually drifting to the walker and Parker, or the Lazenby’s. Soon the walker moved toward the Lazenby’s and was met with a firm handshake by everyone in his group. No one tried to pull him of balance and no one tried to crush his hand. They were all well behaved!

Ralph Lazenby asked several general questions about the number of groups in Montana. The walker did not know. No one knew, but the walker told him he kept finding them via relatives or associations. It was difficult. He had talked to seven groups in Utah. Some were polygamists, but were also patriots. There seemed to be more cohesion in Utah now among the seven groups. He noted that one group maintained no weapons, other than M-14 rifles. Every adult carried one and was intimately familiar with operation and maintenance. Those groups were also finding other groups and making them feel welcome. It had all been due to the walker’s influence, but he would never say it.

Lazenby was no fool. He asked why the walker didn’t just drive, or have someone drive him. He was told that it would be too easy to be waylaid or get someone else in trouble. He related the story about the Highway Patrolman in Wyoming. It seemed to satisfy everyone. They just shook their heads at the probable injustice.

Lazenby changed the subject, “I hear you carry a weapon. Would you like to try out our range tomorrow? It’s great, for around here. We have a twenty five meter, up to a three hundred yard range. The targets are automatic. We even have some lateral movers, if we can get ’em to work.”

“I’d love to shoot some. I haven’t had a free day in so long. I seem to always make it to a compound on Friday evening or Saturday morning and have just enough time to move on; the day after my presentation.” He lied. He didn’t like to, but here he was, at this point in time for a reason. Ridge Parker was the main reason, but Lazenby needed further study. He added, “What time do you want to meet?”

He and Lazenby and about thirty others agreed to meet at about 4:00 p.m. the next day, since the sun would be at their backs, just right to see the targets properly, and most people could get off work and arrive by then. The walker wondered how they would do with the sun in their eyes and the targets firing back.

Conversations continued after the Lazenby’s left with their entourage. The walker noticed that some of the group managed to straggle back in with the excuse of wanting more ice cream. He had to admit that it was awfully good. It really took one back to childhood. The conversations were loud and friendly. The walker asked Parker about the range. Parker told him it usually worked, but no one really took care of it between weekend meetings. Julie volunteered that her brother would arrive Friday evening and he usually took care of the range mechanics. That would be too late for tomorrow at four-o-clock. He asked if he could look at it sometime tomorrow. Julie readily agreed to show him where the “guts” of the beast were. He looked forward to talking to her, and to her brother when he arrived.

He was treated cordially by almost everyone that evening. He answered questions and tried not to be too aloof. It’s hard to be emotionless among so many happy people. There was some liquor involved. He could smell it. However, no one got out of hand and to him it seemed like a big family reunion with all the social intricacies of families. The meeting lasted late and he was obviously tired.

He was housed in a bunk house for men. He was shown to a small private room and made to feel comfortable. He always hesitated to try to sleep indoors since he knew the bad dreams would come. Nevertheless, he tried to stay down, so as not to disconcert his hosts.