Without warning

FORT LEWIS, I CORPS HO, WASHINGTON STATE

‘Release them now!’

‘Now is not the right time.’

‘Now is completely the right fucking time, or I walk. My people walk. Every fucking city council employee walks and you can deal with the consequences,’ said Kipper, stabbing at the tabletop for emphasis.

General Blackstone, half hidden in shadow under the shaded light, folded his arms and leaned back, disappearing further into the darkness. ‘The consequences will be that you go down in history as the man who destroyed America,’ he replied, just as implacably.

Kipper snorted. There were at least twice as many military personnel as there were civilians in the underground conference room at Fort Lewis. Blackstone had obviously insisted on scheduling the meeting here to keep them off balance, but Kip was determined it wasn’t going to work. He wished he had Barney with him, though. Two axe handles across the shoulders, and dangerously impatient with bullshitters and idiots, he’d have made a great shotgun rider for this mission.

‘America is more than just a name on a map or a bunch of business interests,’ said Kipper. ‘It’s not the military. It’s not the President. In fact, it’s none of those things anymore. It hasn’t been since they disappeared. I’m not destroying America, you are, General. America is an idea – of the people, by the people. You do the math on the rest of it. Because locking up the people’s representatives, no matter how useless and fucked up they might be, that is destroying the idea of America. And I’m here to tell you that we won’t stand for it. Release the councillors now.’

Blackstone, who had been sitting back, absorbing Kipper’s attack, suddenly exploded forward into the light and slammed both open palms down on the table. ‘How dare you! You march in here, under the pretence of amity, and lay down a subversive agenda…’

‘Oh please – what are you, channelling McCarthy? The only subversives here, my friend, are toting guns and pretending the fucking Constitution doesn’t exist. Well, it does, and if you won’t defend it, we will.’

Blackstone gaped as though struck and Kip wondered if he might have gone too far. But no, damn it, he would be heard. Even if it meant he ended up in the cells too. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Blackstone, lest it be interpreted as weakness, but he could sense the presence of Dave Chugg and Marv Basco on either side of him, and of the state government people beyond them. They weren’t exactly supporting him yet, but they weren’t backing Blackstone either.

‘Haven’t you seen the news, son?’ asked the General. ‘Are you a complete imbecile?’

Kipper smiled, but without warmth. ‘The news? Is that what you call it? I’ve seen the censored bulletins your media people let out.’

‘Uh-huh. And did you happen to notice anything about a nuclear war starting overnight? You think that might affect how you see things? Do you really want to turn the city over to a bunch of headless fucking chickens who couldn’t even decide what cookies to eat the last time the world was ending? What’ll it be this time, Kipper, as the fallout cloud closes in? Deadlock over flavoured milk or Kool-Aid?’

‘I don’t know, General. That’ll be up to them. And they’ll be judged on their performance or lack of it the next time they go to the polls…’

‘Oh my god, man! There won’t be a next time!’

‘Why, you getting rid of the vote while you’re at it?’ countered the engineer.

‘Don’t be obtuse.’

Kipper closed the manila folder in front of him and scanned the ranks of military personnel arrayed around and behind the general. The only one he recognised was Ty McCutcheon, on Blackstone’s right. What could they all be thinking? he wondered. They had to take off those uniforms sometime – surely they didn’t want to live in a prison camp at the end of the day.

At least Blackstone hadn’t ordered him thrown in irons yet. He let his eyes wander around the room, playing for time. It was an unremarkable breeze-block structure, somewhere deep underground. Maps of Seattle and the local area covered all the walls. Some others had been obscured by hastily hung drop cloths. He had no idea why. Perhaps it was time to roll a hard six.

‘How about we ask Admiral Ritchie?’ Kip suggested, turning back to let Blackstone get the full wattage of his stare.

The general wouldn’t have made much of a poker player. His lips curved downwards, his shoulder rolled, a vein stood out on his neck. He did everything but run a finger around the inside of his collar and make an exaggerated cartoon gulp. A few of his uniformed offsiders shifted noticeably in their seats too. Major McCutcheon, Kip noted, was as still and quiet as a stone dog.

‘Holy crap!’ The engineer smiled, chancing his hand again. ‘You haven’t told Ritchie, have you?’

‘I have full authority for line management of the tactical situation here and I…’