William W Johnstone - Ashes 21 - Betrayal in the Ashes (txt)

INTO THE UNKNOWN

Corrie radioed the orders, knowing why Ben was doing this. If he could

have six burning tanks blocking the two-lane road, they had a chance of

holding until help arrived.

"We've got to get across the St. Bernard Bridge and hold it from the

other end; keep Bottger's men from blowing it," Ben said. "We've got to

keep that bridge intact."

But he had no way of knowing whether or not the twisting bridge was

wired to blow.

The rainy night suddenly boomed as anti-tank rockets were fired-right on

target. The darkness was briefly illuminated as tanks rolled onto ATs

and set them off. Two more explosions were heard and Ben was up and

running out of the tunnel toward the bridge, yelling for his people to

follow him-Jersey, Beth, Corrie, and Cooper keeping pace with him.

"Goddamnit, General!" Lt. Bonelli hollered. "Will you wait for the rest

of us? Goddamnit!"

Ben shouted, "Come on, people. Come on. Let's take this bridge and do it

now!" He disappeared into the rain-swept darkness.

Rebels surged forward out of the tunnel, following Ben into the unknown.

2

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3

BETRAYAL

IN THE

ASHES

By William W. Johnstone

ZEBRA BOOKS KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

4

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used

fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp. 850 Third Avenue New York, NY 10022

or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher,

excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that

this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"

to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received

any payment for this "stripped book."

Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

First Printing: April, 1996 10 9876543

Printed in the United States of America

5

Let the chips fall where they may. -Roscoe Conkling

6

7

BOOK ONE

8

9

At first ?

... it was just a thought in the back of the minds of a few, just a

dream. A place where people of like mind could live and work and play

and raise their children without fear of crime.

"Impossible!" cried the socialist-leaning liberals who controlled the

government of the United States.

"Bullshit!" said Ben Raines, pointing his finger at yet another pair of

federal agents who had come to his home to harass him again for his

articles attacking the government. "I have committed no crimes. I am a

tax-paying, law-abiding citizen who has the right to address the

problems I believe are destroying this nation. And I'm looking at two of

them."

"Mr. Raines, we're only doing what we were ordered to do," the senior

agent said. "Personally, I agree with you. But you're advocating violent

overthrow of the government. Tone it down just a little bit."

"No. I won't do that. The policies of the present administration are

destroying this nation. You gentlemen had better get a firm grip on the

edges of the commode, 'cause this nation is going right down the toilet."

10

The younger of the two, a blow-dried fanatical devotee of President

Blanton, flushed and said, "Now, you listen to me, Raines. There are

charges we could bring against you. You-"

"Go sit in the car," the senior agent told his younger partner. "Right now!"

Alone with Ben in the living room, the older agent said, "I've got one

year to go, then I pull the pin, Mr. Raines. I want my retirement." He

sighed. "Look, what I'm about to say, I didn't say. OK? Hey, I agree

with you-one hundred percent. But you're fanning the flames of

insurrection through your writings. You have too many people ready to

pick up a gun and start a revolution. This administration is out to get

you, Ben. Not just you, but every writer who advocates change through

violence." He jerked a thumb toward the outside, where the younger agent

was sitting pouting in the car. "You see the type of men we're actively

recruiting now. They kiss the ground around President Blanton's feet.

And they're dangerous, Ben. The liberals have firm control of the

government, and they're not about to turn loose."

"Death will make them turn loose."

"Goddamnit, Ben, don't say things like that in front of me! You've got

to tone it down, Ben. If you don't, it's going to get rough. And I mean

that." He walked to the door, then turned to face Ben. "Tone it down,

Ben. If you don't, they'll silence you. And I'm telling you straight."

It wasn't about to get rough, it was already rough. Several writers of

popular fiction, those men and women who were openly scornful of the

present administration and were demanding change through

11

their writings, were getting hassled by federal agents and agencies in

an attempt to shut them up. They were making the liberals in power (the

touchy-touchy; kissy-kissy;

disarm-and-stomp-on-the-rights-of-the-law-abiding-taxpaying citizens,

take-a-punk-to-lunch bunch) very nervous.

Ben and others could clearly see the writing on the wall. And it was

being written by hands who, politically, leaned so far to the left it

was nothing short of a miracle they could even stand up straight.

Thanks to liberals, conditions in America had deteriorated to the point

of anarchy: discipline in public schools was virtually nonexistent; the

juvenile justice system was a joke; teachers lived in fear of their

lives; law-abiding, tax-paying citizens were afraid when they went out

shopping, out for a drive, even sitting in their homes. The land of the

free and the home of the brave had become the land of the frightened and

the home of the powerless. The liberals in control were so terrified

that some decent, law-abiding taxpayer might actually use a gun to

defend or protect self, family, home, or possessions against some

slobbering, quasi-literate, shit-for-brains asshole, carefully

orchestrated programs were put into motion to disarm the American public

... and the majority of the nation's press went right along with it.

According to liberals, criminals, you see, were really not bad people.

That was a terrible ol' ugly myth started by Republicans and other

conservatives. Criminals, you see, had all been forced into a life of

crime by an uncaring society. If you leave your keys in your car and

someone steals it, it's your fault, not

12

the fault of the thief. That is wisdom from the mind of a liberal. Not

exactly what one would call on a par with Solomon.

Thanks to liberals, the hands of cops trying to do their jobs were not

just tied, they were chained and locked.

"Ooohhh!" cooed the liberals to the men and women who wore the badges.

"You must protect us." And when the cops tried to do just that, the

liberals moaned, "Ooohhh! But don't you dare hurt that poor unfortunate

criminal while protecting us."

The cops found themselves between a rock and a hard place.

The average time served for murder was about eight years; for rape,

about two-and-a-half years; for stealing a car, about six months; and

for home burglary, the criminal got a lecture. If you beat somebody's

head in with a tire iron, that was assault with a deadly weapon.

However, if you used a brick during a riot, the charge was less.

Ben Raines had a simple solution for crime: Allow the hard-working,

law-abiding, tax-paying citizens to protect family, self, home, and

possessions by any means possible without fear of arrest, prosecution,

or civil suit.

"Ooohhh!" moaned the liberals. "That's a big No-No!" It had begun to

appear to many that a liberal would rather see a law-abiding taxpayer

get raped, mugged, assaulted, robbed, or killed than have just one

lawless punk get shot while committing a crime. "Besides, we're going to

take all your guns away from you so only the criminals will have guns."

As the last decade of the millennium began to

13

wane, that prophecy came true and the liberals got their way: All

pistols and most rifles and shotguns were gathered up by federal agents,

and the citizens of the United States were left defenseless against the

lawless.

"I told you so," Ben Raines said, among others who had been prophesying

that once the anti-gun crowd got their feet in the door, they would

never be content until they totally disarmed American citizens. The

law-abiding ones, that is. The criminal element was delighted with the

new law. They never had worried about going to jail if they were caught

with a gun, and now they didn't have to worry about getting shot by some

law-abiding citizen while committing a crime.

"Oh, goody!" the liberal gun-grabbers and punk-ass-kissers said as they

danced with joy. "Now we can all be safe in our beds and on the streets.

Those big ol' horrible nasty guns have all been collected from Americans."

"From law-abiding Americans," Ben said, watching the news one evening.

"Not from the criminals, you goddamned fool!"

It was all moot anyway, for shortly after the greatest gun-grab in the

world's history, the whole world blew up.

Ben had been predicting that, too; and so far, he was right up there

with Nostradamus in his predictions. And he had also predicted that

thousands of Americans, rather than giving up their guns, would seal

them up tight and bury them. And many of them did just that.

Although those citizens did not realize it at the

14

time, in that single act, the Rebel movement had been born.

After a very limited nuclear-and-germ war, and the collapse of every

single government around the world, Ben roamed the countryside with the

intention of writing about the fall. He began seeing billboards asking

him to call in on a certain frequency. After encountering about a dozen

of them, he found a radio and called in. Startled to learn that he had

been named a general in some sort of army, he laughed and signed off.

But the billboards kept appearing, and finally he met with some people.

The Rebel movement took another step toward full-blown reality.

A year later the Tri-States were born: three states in the northwestern

section of the nation that the Rebels seized and settled. They held on

for a few years, and then the newly restored federal government launched

a full military assault against the Tri-States and smashed them. But the

Rebel movement would not die. Ben rebuilt his forces and when they

re-emerged, the movement simply could not be stopped.

The Rebels moved their base of operations into the south, first claiming

the northern part of Louisiana. As the movement gathered strength, the

Rebels branched out until they now claimed eleven southern states. Ben,

head of the largest standing army in the world (as far as anyone knew),

petitioned the newly formed United Nations for official recognition.

Over the heated and often-quite-profane objections of President Blanton

and his newly formed liberal Congress, now headquartered in Charleston,

15

West Virginia, the Secretary General of the U.N. agreed to give the

SUSA-the Southern United States of America-sovereign nation status if

Ben and his Rebels would do just one little job for the U.N.

"Just one little job," Secretary General Son Moon told Ben.

"Little job, my ass," Ben muttered in response.

After meeting with the elected President of the SUSA, his old friend

Cecil Jefferys, the first black man to be elected to this high an office

anywhere in the northern hemisphere, and meeting with all his Batt

comms, Ben agreed to take the job.

And what a job it was: Stabilize the world.

"Is that all you want us to do?" Ben asked, his tone martini-dry.

"That's it," Son Moon replied, his usually unreadable eyes holding a

definite twinkle.

"OK," Ben agreed casually. "You've got a deal!"

16

17

Chapter One

Geneva, Switzerland

Ben had gone off to sit by himself on the roof of the newly remodeled

and refurbished hotel in the city. He had just had his head filled with

a lot of facts-and they were facts-that he really didn't want to hear.

He sat for several hours on the roof of the building before returning to

the designated conference room in the hotel. He met the President of the

United States, Homer Blanton, on the way, and the men walked silently

together for a time down the long hallway. General Bodison, Chairman of

the Joint Chiefs, joined them on their walk.

"How's the First Lady taking all this grim news, Homer?" Ben asked.

"Badly."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I really am. I know she doesn't like me ..."

Homer waved that off with a curt slash of his hand. "That's her problem,

Ben. Don't worry about it. We have more important things to concern us."

General Bodison caught Ben's eyes and smiled

18

knowingly as they walked. Both men knew Homer Blanton had matured

dramatically. He was still a Democrat, and always would be. But hard

reality had slapped him right in the face more than once over the past

year, and many of his liberal views had gone flying right out the window

with each slap ... much to the chagrin of his wife, Vice President

Harriet Hooter, and many members of Congress. Homer would probably never

adopt the hard-line political views of the Rebels, but he would never

again return to the totally liberal outlook he had brought with him into

office.

The three men sat down in the conference room and were silent for a

moment, occasionally looking at one another. General Bodison finally

broke the silence. "Mr. President, if you will allow the law-abiding

citizens of the United States to use force to protect what is theirs

against the criminal element, without fear of arrest, prosecution, or

civil suit, I could free up several more full battalions of troops to

aid General Raines over here."

Blanton shook his head. "I don't have the power to do it. That would be

up to the courts and Congress, not necessarily in that order."

"The people could vote on it, sir," the general said.

Blanton smiled, a rather sad curving of the lips. "And how do you

suppose the vote would go, General Bodison? Ninety-nine percent of the

lawyers who survived the bad times are living in the states that still

fly the stars and stripes. Ben ran most of them out of the SUSA. When we

reestablished the Supreme Court, Congress stacked it with liberals ..."

He grimaced. "With my help. I have to admit that. Besides,

19

how can we have elections when we don't even know how many voters are in

what district? All the records were lost-destroyed, probably. It's going

to take montihs-years, perhaps-to get things back to some sort of

normalcy. The only smoothly running part of the world is the SUSA and

those states that aligned with them."

Ben kept his face expressionless and drew little doodles on the yellow

legal pad in front of him.

"That wasn't meant as a criticism, Ben," Homer said.

"I know, Homer. I didn't take it as such."

"What the hell are we going to do about Bruno Bottger and these hideous

threats of his, Ben?" Homer asked.

Bruno Bottger now controlled all of Germany, and half-a-dozen other

countries. He had a standing army of a quarter of a million men and a

reserve of over a hundred thousand, and his scientists were close to

perfecting a drug that would make any who consumed it sterile. Bottger

had laid it all right on the line to those attending the meeting in

Geneva: He planned to control all of Europe before he was through; and

if the Rebels were not out of Europe within twenty-four hours, Bottger's

men would drive them out.

Secretary General Son Moon had joined the men in the room, and they

talked quietly for several minutes. Coffee and sandwiches were brought in.

"We can't clear Europe in twenty-four days," Ben said. "Much less

twenty-four hours. Bottger knows that. He's just looking for a fight.

Besides, I've talked

20

to my people about this. They don't like the idea of running-unless it's

straight ahead."

Blanton looked at Ben. "Bottger said he'd use that serum if we didn't

get out."

"I'm betting he doesn't have that stuff. I don't think he's even close

to having it. He's bluffing."

"You are betting the lives of millions and the possible extermination of

an entire race, General," Son Moon said.

"I'm open to suggestions."

"If Bottger is not stopped here, he will continue to overpower other

nations on the continent," Blanton said. "In a few years, he'll be so

strong nothing or no one will be able to stop him. He'll conquer the

United States-I believe that is his ultimate goal."

"I agree," General Bodison said.

"Yes." Son Moon spoke softly. "I concur."

Ben reheated his coffee and added sugar. He stirred the murky liquid for

a moment and said, "Homer, I'm going to get my thoughts together here

and then tell you something, and you're not going to like it-"

"What else is new?" the President asked with a genuine smile.

Ben chuckled and took a sip of coffee. He looked at General Bodison. "Is

the military willing to back the President, one hundred percent and all

the way?"

Bodison hesitated for a second, then nodded his head. "I'll play this

game," he added, "Yes. One hundred percent and all the way. Whatever it is."

"It's something that any sitting President could have done, should have

done thirty years ago. I'm sure several Republican Presidents have

considered it,

21

or at least entertained the thought. I doubt if any Democrat ever did ..."

Blanton sighed.

"Certainly sounds interesting," Bodison said.

"Homer, when you get back to the United States, you call the major

networks and set up a nationwide radio-TV hookup to be followed with the

entire text of your speech in the newspapers. Publicize it for a couple

of weeks. When you feel that as many people as possible have heard about

the broadcast and will be listening, you get on the air and you tell the

American public that from that moment on, they control their own

destinies ..."

Blanton leaned forward, his coffee and sandwich forgotten.

"... No citizen has to fear being arrested, prosecuted, or being

subjected to a civil lawsuit for protecting family, self, home, or

possessions against thieves or intruders. Criminals have no

constitutional rights until they are arrested by a duly constituted

officer of the law or the military, which will be assisting the police

and sheriffs deputies. In short, Homer, just take a page from the Rebel

philosophy and apply it to the United States. I give you my word that

crime will drop by seventy-five percent within sixty days of your

broadcast."

"But the lawyers-"

"Fuck the lawyers and the liberals and the Congress and the Supreme

Court. They won't be able to do anything because the entire nation will

be under martial law. The instant you get back, start a recruiting drive

to beef up the military. You've got millions

22

of people out of work; you should have no trouble finding good men and

women to fill the ranks."

"Ben, what about those fifty thousand or so armed men and women who have

surfaced in the Midwest ready to attempt to overthrow the nation?"

"Use as many of them as you can in the military."

"What? Ben, they're racists!"

"Some of them, yes. But I'll wager not the majority. You don't have a

choice in the matter, Homer. You've heard the reports from both your

intelligence people and mine. Your nation is on the verge of collapse

until you do something and do something damn quick. I'm telling you how

you can keep your nation intact, Homer. I can't force you to do it; I

can only suggest."

"What is my alternative, Ben?" the President of the United States asked.

"After we finish up here, I return to the United States and start

kicking ass and picking up the pieces. Before long, the Rebels will be

in control of the entire North American continent and you'll be out of a

job. You want that?"

"You're not serious, Ben!"

"The hell I'm not."

Homer Blanton slowly shook his head. "All my life I have wanted to be

President of the United States. Now I have to say it is the shittiest

job on the face of the earth. You say those people in the Midwest are

not racists, Ben. They want to round up all the blacks and put them on

reservations. Now, if that isn't racist, will you kindly tell me what is?"

"I said some of them were racist, Homer, and some of them are. But the

majority are just plain ol' Americans

23

who will give anybody a decent shake if they think they deserve it They

were frustrated before the Great War; they've managed to live through

the hard times, and now they see the government in Charleston going back

to the same old dog-and-pony show they had to endure before the world

fell apart a few years ago. They're not going to put up with supporting

what they perceive as an entire underclass. You might as well get that

through your head once and for all."

"I might, Ben. But many of those around me won't."

"Then they're going to be in deep trouble. Oh, hell, Homer. Americans

are probably the most compassionate and giving people on the face of the

earth. You know that. But you also know that just before the Great War,

many believed America was teetering on the brink of a race war."

"If that is true, and I think it probably was, it was due entirely to

racism," Homer said stubbornly.

"On both sides of the color line, Homer. On both sides."

General Bodison and Son Moon had both sat silently, keeping their

expressions neutral as the President of the United States and the

commanding general of the Rebel Army argued.

"Bullshit, Ben!"

"No, Homer. Fact."

"Time, gentlemen, time," General Bodison finally said since both men

were getting a little hot under the collar. "You are both right to a

degree. But this is not the place to discuss it."

Homer struggled to get his famous temper under

24

control and Ben nodded his head and leaned back in his chair.

"Being who and what I am," Son Moon said softly, "I am certainly not

unfamiliar with racism. But I have never experienced the terrible racism

that so many blacks say they have to endure. I wonder why that is?"

Ben smiled, and that smile infuriated Homer Blanton. General Bodison

sighed, knowing the argument was not yet over.

"Perhaps, Mr. Secretary General," Homer said, "it is because of your

education."

"In part. But only in part," the Secretary General retorted. "I think by

and large it is because, while I am quite proud of my heritage, as all

people should be, I do not flaunt it in the face of others. My God is

how I perceive Him to be. I do not sit on television shows and tell

others that their God is Oriental and they must accept that as fact. I

can prove my heritage; I have no need to engage in half-truths and pure

myths."

William W Johnstone - Ashes 21 - Betrayal in the Ashes (txt)

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