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Chapter 2

Waiting for the Prey

Wednesday, May 27

“I send you on a simple job and both of you blow it.” The elderly man was obviously chastising both men for failing to complete their assignment.

“I’m sorry, Colonel. We almost had him. He was putting up a good fight, and we would have collared him if this other guy hadn’t shown up. We suspected he was a cop. He hit Thomas with an automatic, and I had it in my gut before I knew it. If I hadn’t moved when I did, he probably would have fired. As it was, I managed to hit him and stun him enough to hit him a second time and knock him out.”

“If you knocked him out, why didn’t you grab your target?”

“He pulled loose from me when I—”

“I don’t need excuses,” the colonel said. “Both of you get out there and find the guy. If the other one is with him, bring them both in. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“Pick up another car. They’ve probably made the one you were using. This time, get him or them and bring them back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Another thing, keep the network surveillance on him. Keep on your toes this time, Thomas, or do you enjoy getting slapped across the head with automatics?”

With that remark burned into his head, Stewart T. Thomas and Marvin A. Prackett departed for Frisco with determination and resolve.

Col. Donald D. Duncan, North American air force commander of operations, was busy calling his superiors. “I know it’s a setback, sir! The intruder stumbled in on the strip and turned around and started back before we could intercept him… Yes, sir, we got his license number from one of our road cameras and have identified him… Yes, sir. I sent two men out to get him and bring him in.… No, sir, nothing serious. We’ll keep him incognito here… Yes, sir. Until the operation is completed… Will do, sir. Goodbye.”

All the best laid-out plans and all it takes is one unknown to screw it up. Colonel Duncan picked up the phone, hit a patch number, and said, “Ops, has that stealth reported in yet?… I want to know the minute it does, and I want it patched in directly to me. Understand?… Thank you!”

The colonel sat back in his chair, picked up a half cup of cold coffee, and started to think about the mission and why. What is the price of freedom? They, the administration, had destroyed the family, and we the American people kill more babies each year than Hitler did during the war. Border jumpers have more rights than our citizens. We reward our citizens when they loot, burn, and kill with more legal benefits than they deserve. Foreign nations are doing their best to break us up and destroy our economy and seem to be succeeding. Leading congressmen from the Border States are firmly in the president’s pocket.

Duncan’s mind raced through past events that led to these thoughts. All we need is a return to our independence. A country like ours cannot survive as a service country. We need to build and produce with national pride for all of our citizens. We must regain our companies and control our destiny without outsiders doing it for us. We have many other ways to help people without bankrupting them or forcing all the major corporations out of the country with higher taxes. If Canada and Mexico wished to remain as part of the United States, it would need to be by referendum in the United States first and then in each of the two countries.

The direction they were going was correct in his mind. Yes, he thought, we must eliminate the liberal processes and greed that have overtaken the industry and politics. We must shut the door on any who will sell us off for silver or gold. The laws they enacted to control corporate greed paid off for a time—only now our industries have moved to overseas locations where the laws here are of little use. We must control the moneymakers and remove those left-wing liberal and mammy-pammy judges. All the people have a right to this country’s heritage. We are not just European, Native American, African, or Asian. We are Americans.

He muttered aloud, “If we can pull this off, maybe, just maybe, we can bring some sanity back to this country.” He knew they must restore the constitution, defeat the liberals, and stop the new world order at all costs. His mind relaxed, his eyelids were heavy, and he slipped into sleep, tired from the pressure of the day’s events.

*****

As Tork regained consciousness, two men stepped out of a police car and hurried over to the group. “What’s going on here?” one man shouted.

The other held up his hand to him. “Everyone, please stay where you are. I want you and you”—pointing to Charlene and Cal—“to tell me what happened.”

Cal started to explain that the two men were trying to rob him when Tork started to focus in on those around him. Tork’s head reminded him of the day’s events. He opened his eyes and looking down on him was Cal, Charlene, and several cops he knew. Det. Sgt. Roland Tempelton, San Francisco Police Department, was holding a cold compress on Tork’s head that a waitress had handed him.

“Okay, Tork, what’s going on? And don’t tell me its siesta time in the parking lot.”

Tork tried to smile, but it hurt and he winced from the pain. He gazed around and his eyes fell on Cal. “Well, this is another fine mess you got me into, Ollie.”

Cal smiled and knew Tork was going to be okay.

“Sorry, Sergeant, but when I saw those two guys trying to get Cal, I had to do something. I just didn’t figure on coming out second. I had no gun, so I tried to help Cal the best way I could.”

“Yeah, Sarge,” Cal said. “I asked Tork to meet me here this morning. I needed a hand and knew Tork could help me out. I figure a couple of hoods with guns you guys missed decided they would pick up a few extra bucks.”

“Okay, I guess I can buy that. You know how the law is now. Down on anything that may injure a fellow member of the New Order. You get my drift?”

“Yeah, Sarge,” both Tork and Cal replied in unison.

They helped Tork up, and feebly, he got into Mo’s for a much needed cup of coffee and an ice bag. After sitting in the booth and sipping a cup, he started on Cal. “Okay, Cal, now what’s this all about? You’re on an old road that turns into a new road. What’s strange about that?”

“Look, Tork. I drove a good ten miles or farther down that road, scratched the hell out of my car, and probably destroyed the steering with all the chuckholes I hit. I’m telling you I was lucky to get through to the new section. I drove down the new part of the road about a mile or so not seeing a thing. Figured I should have been in or close to a town, or some lights, or something. But nothing was out there, so I decided to turn around and go back.

“The car was starting to run a little better and I was hoping whatever the trouble was, it started to clear itself up. After I turned around and headed back toward the old road, I glanced in my rearview and saw moonlight shining on something coming up behind me. As I watched, it grew bigger. I realized then it was a vehicle closing on me with no lights on. I don’t know how but he was coming up real fast. It scared the hell out of me, so I kicked the pedal to the metal. The car bucked a couple of times and the good Lord was with me and cleared whatever was fouling up the injectors. They let go and I took off. I hit that old stretch of road doing a good seventy and kept it there until I hit the main highway and headed home with them following me all the way.”

Tork thought for a moment and then said, “I think we need to drive down there. We should start early enough so you can look for it at night. If we leave this afternoon, we should get their early in the morning before daybreak, and hopefully you can find your Indian gift shop sign and the road. Once we find the road, we’ll follow it and see where it goes.”

“I don’t know, Tork. I think my lights tipped them off,” said Cal. “Going in with our lights on may be a mistake.”

“Cal, I’m hoping you’re right. If we’re going to find them, we need to let them know where we are. To do that, we need to set them up ourselves.”

“What have you got in mind, Tork?”

“Cal, trust me.”