Fifty Years of Peace (Abrupt Dissent Series) (12 page)

A shoulder moved through the grass, one of the field hands trying to crawl toward the ranch house. Dillon squeezed the trigger and the shoulder gushed with blood and stopped moving. A good shot.

He’d picked an excellent overlook position after the search of the hills turned up nothing, and ever since he’d been waiting for this moment. The firing positions he’d constructed from the small copse of trees and rock would keep them from seeing him until it was too late. He was in total tactical control.

An older man, still clutching a shovel, popped up from behind a stump. Dillon sighted, exhaled.

“Don’t even think about it,” a voice said as cold metal pressed against Dillon’s neck. “Take your hands off the weapon.”

Lying on his stomach, Dillon raised his hands out and to his sides.

“That’s it, easy does it. Now keep your head down.”

Dillon did as ordered.

“Move George!” the man yelled. “Hurry!”

Dillon heard the man holster his weapon, then the man seized his right wrist and pulled it across his back to try and handcuff him, but Dillon was smarter. He used the man’s momentum to spin onto his back, catching the man’s legs with his own and scissoring the man onto the ground. Dillon could see the camouflaged face’s eyes go wide with surprise as the man fell against a boulder. His opponent had one arm tied in a sling, and tried to draw his pistol with the other. Dillon sprung to his feet, kicking the man’s gun hand once, twice. A shot went off, ricocheting past him, and Dillon kicked again. This time a bone cracked and the weapon fell from the man’s hand. From the corner of his eye, Dillon saw a combat knife flash in the man’s bad hand and backed away. He grinned as he drew his own knife.

“You’re one of the ones I missed on the bridge,” he said. “Is that arm bothering you?”

“You couldn’t kill me before; you’re not going to kill me now.”

The man slipped his arm from the sling, but had little strength in the limb. His knife fluttered, and the man was grimacing at the effort. He feinted forward, then swung his blade back toward Dillon’s thigh but the sniper was ready. He caught the man’s momentum, and again, used it to pull the soldier off balance. As the man stumbled past him, Dillon stabbed at his back, just barely missing. The other man steadied himself, his eyes burning into Dillon.
Good
, Dillon thought,
anger will cloud his judgment.
The man would stop looking for openings, and start looking for more brutal strikes. Fighting without anger was something his Japanese instructor had taught him a long time ago, and he felt calmness flood him.

Dillon jumped a step forward, faking a rush. The other man stepped back to receive his charge, and in that moment, lost the fight. The man stumbled back into a group of rocks and lost his footing. Dillon pounced, pinning the man’s arms against the ground with his knees and driving his knife deep into the man’s chest. Blood bubbled from the man’s mouth. His eyes flashed a desperate understanding, then faded into a peaceful nothingness. It was a good kill.

Linden closed his trailer door, then sat down to massage his temples. The mayor was becoming a liability, and tiptoeing around the civilians was taking too much of his time when the larger plan was at such a delicate stage. He’d need to think of what to do. Perhaps the Johnson boy would come in handy, or another disaffected citizen. These people were just too nice. They wouldn’t talk bad about a neighbor or do anything to jeopardize their community. He was starting to wonder if this was the right town from which to start a war after all.

A fist pounded the door, startling him. He nodded to one of his aides and the man drew his pistol, checked the peephole, then opened the door. Dillon pushed past the man and into the reception area. Dust and sweat covered the scout, but a weasel smile plastered the man’s face.

“What are you so proud of?” Linden asked.

Dillon reached into a vest pocket, pulled out a bloody glob of fabric, and tossed it onto Linden’s worktable.

“Now what in the hell do you….”

“That’s machine-stitched fabric,” Dillon said, “computerized camouflage pattern.”

Linden’s mood changed in an instant. This was what he’d been waiting for, evidence of U.S. provocation that he could take to the people.

“Where did you find it?”

“The Two Star Ranch. I played a hunch, and the boy came back with his dad and the girl. They were looking for these...” He unzipped his pack and lifted out a small device that he handed to Linden. “Your men’s search of that ranch wasn’t as thorough as you thought.”

“Is it operable?”

“Absolutely. The old man had a whole library down there, and a generator to boot. I don’t know how much the girl knows, but the boy will probably know enough and…”

“Where are they?”

“They got away.”

“THEY GOT AWAY?” Linden shouted. “What miserable excuse do you have this time? Was the sun too high in the goddamn sky Dillon?” He took a threatening step toward the dirty tracker, but Dillon gave no ground.

“Have you ever watched a man die against the business end of your hunting knife Assemblyman? You ever slit a man’s throat in his sleep? Or do you just scream when the pieces on your game board don’t do what you want them to?”

His aide reached for their sidearm, but Linden forced himself calm. Dillon had brought him a great triumph, and in spite of his distaste for the man, he needed him.

“You know Dillon, that was wrong of me to raise my voice. I’ve been dealing with the god-awful mayor of this town asking questions that are getting in the way of some important tactical decisions, and I let the pressure get to me. My apologies…”

Dillon let out a crooked smile.

“That girl and her boyfriend aren’t your problem,” he said. “You and I both know the United States doesn’t have any type of force in position to keep your little army from taking Rockfish Gap and marching all the way to Front Royal if you wanted.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not stupid Assemblyman, in spite of what you might think. I came right to you because the man I killed, the dad, was the same one I hit square in the shoulder five nights ago on the bridge. But this morning when I stripped him down, I found a nice neat line of sutures where my bullet got him. He was well fed and had access to medical care.”

“The townspeople…”

“They aren’t all on your side,” Dillon said. “Whatever you wanted to start here, you’re damn well doing it. And if I was you, I’d kick your plan to win hearts and minds into high gear.”

***

Sheriff Dickson sat across his kitchen table from Mayor Trestle. The candle he’d lit when the exhausted mayor had woken him had burned down to a nub.

“If we do this there’s no turning back,” he said.

The mayor rubbed at his shin, yawning.

“I know, but people need stories Pete,” Mayor Trestle said.

“And you really think this is what they need to hear?”

“It’ll show them things aren’t right. They won’t take kindly to being lied to.”

“Then you can count…”

Someone battered the sheriff’s door. Both men started in their chairs, and then the sheriff rose to answer.

“I’m coming!” he called. He looked through his door’s peephole, and then turned back to the mayor.

“It’s Arnold and a whole bunch of Texans.”

“Well open up,” Mayor Trestle said. “We’ve got to keep up appearances.”

The sheriff twisted the deadbolt.

“Sheriff Dickson. My apologies for waking you at this hour, I wouldn’t do such a thing if it weren’t urgent. I’ve got new evidence, and I’d like to ask your help with something rather delicate.”

“And what would that be Linden?” Mayor Trestle asked as he limped into view.

“Ah Mr. Mayor,” The assemblyman concealed his surprise well. “You’ve saved me a trip. Would you both mind coming with me?”

The sheriff let the mayor pass in front of him, then stepped out into the street. Four of the assemblyman’s Texans joined them, along with Dillon, who seemed to be enjoying himself altogether too much. They stomped down the street in silence until they reached the jail. One of the Texans knocked three times, then a delayed fourth knock. The door opened, and Jacob stood in front of them. The boy was blurry-eyed and squinting from lack of sleep, but he snapped alert as he saw who was entering.

“We’d like to see the prisoner,” the assemblyman said. Jacob nodded, fumbled in his pocket for the keys, and then opened the prison door. The sheriff watched Jim eye the boy as he passed, and knew what he felt. Jacob was dedicated, smart. It certainly hadn’t been a mistake to add him to the town’s payroll, but he believed the larger story the New States was telling, and Sheriff Dickson knew it had to eat his friend up inside.

Richard was asleep in his cell. Linden tapped his rings against the bars until Jenny’s grandfather awoke and sat up.
Be smart Richard
, the sheriff thought to himself,
don’t say a word
.

“So…Richard,” the assemblyman began, “I understand you’re something of an expert in…antiquities.” He withdrew a small glass rectangle from his pocket and instantly the sheriff knew they’d found out what Richard had been trying to keep secret. The man was in grave danger, but he showed no emotion. The assemblyman dropped the device onto the cell’s concrete floor. It bounced once, a few bits of plastic splintering from its case.

“I have all the evidence I need to present your case to the New States’ Congress for prosecution. This conversation is merely a courtesy. Do you understand?”

Again, Richard said nothing.

“Your granddaughter and two known criminals from the United States were seen at your ranch trying to access this technology. It’s a high crime for a private citizen to own such devices.”

Richard rose from his bunk.

“Where’s Jenny?” he said. “What have you done with her?”

The sheriff glanced at Jacob. The boy seemed uncertain. There was nothing to do but listen.

“I find your question particularly interesting,” Linden said. “You see…”

“She’s on the run in the mountains,” Dillon interrupted. The tracker seemed amused, “She and the dirty boy you let into your house two days ago are probably lying down next to each other for the night right now, lighting a fire…”

“You son of a bitch,” Richard said.

“That’s right,” Dillon answered, “I’m the son of a bitch who’s going to hunt her down and kill her.”

Richard threw himself against the bars, trying to reach the tracker but seizing the empty air.

“I think that’s quite enough Linden,” Mayor Trestle said. “If there are charges to be brought against this man we’ve got a legal process in this town that needs to be followed.”

The big Texan turned. His smile had disappeared.

“You’re still with us, I forgot Mr. Mayor, please accept my apologies. I should have informed you first but my…passion got the best of me. The New States’ Congress has placed the town of New Louisville under martial law. Effective immediately, I am the ultimate authority here.”

“And why in the hell would you think you needed to do that?” the mayor asked, fuming.

“I suggest you ask your friend Doctor Stinson that question Mr. Mayor, that is, if you can find him. Providing material support or hospice to those acting against the New States’ interests is a high crime.”

“I know the law!”

“Do you?” Linden raised his eyebrow. “Sheriff, arrest this man under suspicion of treason.”

Dickson looked at Mayor Trestle. The man shook with anger, but he nodded.

“Do as he says Lou.”

The sheriff pulled a set of handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffed the mayor. Then he opened the cell next to Richard and locked his friend inside.

“I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this Mr. Mayor,” the assemblyman said, “but there is a grave security threat in this town and I aim to root it out. Let’s go boys.”

“What happens to Richard?” the sheriff asked.

“Oh I nearly forgot,” the assemblyman said. He looked down at where the small computer lay on the floor, then ground his boot heel into the device. Glass shattered, exposing tiny wires and circuits from another era.

“Richard Williams, I hereby find you guilty of treason, a crime punishable by death. In two days’ time, you’re to be hung by the neck until dead.”