A Time for Patriots

Brad shook his head. “Man, you’re freaking me out here, dude,” he said. “You’re turning into… like, a regular guy, right before my very eyes.”

“Yeah, I know — it’s hard for guys like me to be seen as anything else but an Adonis to you mere mortals.” They both laughed at that one. “I’ll see you soon, bro.”

“Congrats again… Dad.”

Ron nodded his thanks and left.

Nine

Duty cannot exist without faith.

— Benjamin Disraeli

Later that afternoon

Patrick’s desktop computer monitor showed the seal of the president of the United States. “Hold for the president, please,” the White House operator said after she had initiated the secure videoconference. A few moments later, Patrick saw President Ken Phoenix, seated at his desk in the private study next to the Oval Office. Beside him was Vice President Ann Page, smiling warmly. “Patrick, how are you, buddy?”

“Fine, Mr. President. Good to see you. You too, Madam Vice President.”

“It’s been too long, Patrick.” His expression turned serious. “I’ll get right down to it, Patrick: I received a very serious accusation from the Justice Department this morning, something dealing with the FBI agents leading the surveillance operation against the extremists near you.”

“The accusations are true, sir.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened in surprise. “You threatened three federal agents with death ?”

“Yes, sir.”

Phoenix sat back in his chair in complete shock. “The attorney general is screaming mad, Patrick. You used the CID robot and a Tin Man to threaten those agents with death? Why would you do something like that?”

“The agent from Homeland Security seduced Brad and lured him into a trap with the FBI,” Patrick explained, “and then the FBI agents set up Brad so they could get him to inform on me. I don’t suppose they mentioned any of that.”

The president rubbed his temples. “Has the entire damned world gone mad?” he murmured. “Why would the FBI want to spy on you?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“They said you’ve been uncooperative ever since violating no-fly airspace a while back.”

“My attorney advised me not to answer any questions.”

“Attorney General Horton told you that?”

“Yes, sir.”

The president leaned forward and looked directly into the camera on his desktop computer. “Listen to me carefully, General,” he said. “You will rescind this… this death threat immediately, and you will guarantee to me that those agents have nothing to fear from you, the CID, the Tin Man, or any technology or weapons you control.”

“As long as I’m still free to protect my family, my community, and myself…”

The president held up a finger. “No conditions, Patrick. None . Agree to this, or I’ll send the Marines to come get you, the CID, and the Tin Man. I’m not going to have anyone threaten a federal agent, even you.” Patrick still hesitated. “I’m serious about this, my friend. If you have evidence that these agents did something illegal, turn it over to me, and I’ll have the Justice Department’s internal affairs look into it. But you will not go around threatening federal agents as long as I’m president.” He paused, the anger level in his face slowly rising. “Well?”

“I guarantee no federal agents will be harmed, sir,” Patrick said finally.

The president sat back in his chair. “That’s better,” he said after a few moments. “Just wait until Gardner gets hold of this. It’ll be front-page news all around the world in no time. The only reason I don’t bust you now, Patrick, is because I believe you will send me clear and convincing evidence of what those agents did to Bradley, and that it was outside their legal authority. I was the attorney general, Patrick, remember ? I believe the FBI is the finest law enforcement and investigative agency in the world. I’m not going to let anyone threaten an FBI agent, even you.”

“I’ll have Darrow Horton send you the recordings, sir. I turned everything over to her.”

“You do that— soonest .”

“She’s requested an interview of Special Agent Renaldo of Homeland Security to verify the plan to entrap my son,” Patrick said. “Renaldo invoked the Fifth Amendment and refused to cooperate.”

“Let them handle it,” the president said. “Next: you left a message with Ann saying you wanted to ask me something?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been conducting surveillance of suspected extremist compounds in the Battle Mountain area, and—”

“You’ve been doing what ?” the president interrupted. “What kind of surveillance?”

“Exactly the same kind that Special Agent Chastain was supposed to be doing,” Patrick said, “but instead, he decided to trick my son into informing on me .”

“Has that desert heat fried your brain, Patrick?” the president asked. “Using what? The CID and Tin Man?”

“No, sir — Sky Masters sensors mounted on private aircraft.”