Fire in the Ashes

Hartline sat in a chair opposite her, a puzzled look on his handsome face. He didn't understand these people, these followers of Ben Raines. Even though he had broken half a hundred of them, physically, and tortured another half a hundred, including rape and sodomy, they always seemed to look at him as if he were the loser.

Her smug expression infuriated the mercenary. He slapped her hard across the face, leaving a momentary imprint of his fingers on her flesh. She slowly brushed back her blond hair and continued staring at him.

“What's with you people, anyway?” he demanded, his voice harsh. “You sluts and losers seem to think Raines is some sort of god. What kind of fucking special goddamned society did you people have, anyway, make you think you're so fucking much better than the rest of us? Answer me!” he shouted at her.

Jerre realized at that moment she was dealing with a psychopath—at least that. And she had best walk softly in his presence.

“We don't think we're better than anyone,” Jerre told him. “But we do believe we had a good society."

“Perfect one?"

“No. I don't think that's possible with humans being the carpenters of that society."

“Ain't that pretty?” Hartline said, his voice leaking ugly sarcasm. “Did you make that up in your pretty little head, baby?"

“No. Ben Raines did."

“I'm tired of hearing about that motherfucker!” Hartline roared at her. “Sick of his name, you hear me? I don't want you to say it in my presence unless I ask you to. You understand that?"

“Yes."

He changed as quickly as the flit of a fly. He was now calm, smiling at her. “I think we'll get along just swell, Jerre-baby.” He reached out and cupped a breast. “That's nice, baby. I bet you could give a guy a ride, couldn't you?"

“I ... don't know how you want me to answer that."

“You like to fuck?"

“I enjoy making love."

Hartline leaned back in his chair. His eyes were once more clouded. “Tell me about love, baby."

“Are you serious?” she blurted.

She realized that was a mistake.

He slapped her.

Through her tear-blurred eyes she watched the mercenary unzip his pants and take out his penis. She felt hard hands on her shoulders and allowed herself to be forced to her knees, between his legs.

“I miss it, baby,” Hartline ordered. “Just pretend it's a pork chop and lick on it. Unless, of course, you're a Jew. Then you can pretend it's a bagel."

He thought that hysterically funny.

Jerre bent her head.

* * * *

Tommy Levant wondered if he'd been found out. He thought all sorts of things as he walked to Director Cody's office in the new Hoover Building in Richmond. He was told to go right in.

Cody pointed to a chair and Tommy sat, becoming more apprehensive with each tick of the wall clock. Al Cody turned and looked at the senior agent.

“I want you to know I had nothing to do with that raid out in northern California, Tommy."

“I ... didn't think you did, sir."

“Tommy, I feel dirty. I feel like I've ... I don't know how to describe it. You know, of course, about VP Lowry's ... ah ... activities with Sabra Olivier. Tell me the truth, now, Tommy."

“Yes, sir. The talk is out about it."

“He's a sick man, Tommy. He's ... something must be done. And I don't know where to start."

“I know how you feel about Ben Raines, sir."

Cody shook his head. “Did feel, Tommy. I've had a lot of time to think about my feelings. I still don't like Ben Raines—but in retrospect, he perhaps had the right idea, after all. And he never harmed one innocent person; not to my knowledge."

There was a desperation in Cody's eyes that Levant had never seen there before this. And more: the man seemed to be haunted by—Tommy didn't know what.

“All those people killed out there in California,” Al said, as much to himself as to Levant. “Just to get one woman, to try to pull Raines out in the open, to do something rash. It won't work. And God only knows what Hartline is doing to that poor woman."

He startled Tommy by suddenly grabbing the man's hands in his own. “Tommy,” he said, a wild look in his eyes. “I think we'd better pray."

* * * *

“What do you want?” the president asked Lowry.

“Peace."

“With whom?” Aston was immediately suspicious.

“Both you and Ben Raines?"

“You're not serious?"

“Very much so, Aston. I've been doing some hard thinking lately. Thinking about ... myself and this nation. I don't want to see it torn apart any further. I think you should meet with Raines and sign a peace treaty. Let him rebuild his Tri-States. Let's put an end to this war. And I'll step down as vice president."

“You'd make a public statement to that effect?"

“Just as soon as you meet with Raines and get it all on paper. I give you my word. I'll even put it in writing and sign it and date it; you can keep it."

Aston thought about that. He didn't trust Lowry, but a signed document ... “Why, Lowry? Why now? Why the sudden change of heart?"

“I'm trying to make peace with myself, Aston. I ... haven't liked what I've become. Believe that or not."