Mixed Feelings and Divided Loyalties

(Source)

Beardsley pulled into the parking lot of the Super 8 motel in Hancock, he saw that Thompson and Batchelor were already there. He got out of his truck, took a deep breath, stretched, then grabbed his duffel bag out of the rear seat. He was beat and was wondering when he'd get a chance to sleep again.

He and Batchelor had been on the move for a few days now, Thompson said that "the plan" (Beardsley always put mental quotes around those two words) was close to being brought to fruition. In his own mind, Beardsley was starting to have trouble with this whole course of action. Treason was something that ate at his guts, he was a Marine, damn it.

He put those thoughts aside as he checked in, then went up to his room. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was clean and had a very comfortable looking rack. He was tempted to see how comfortable it was, but he knew if he laid down, he'd probably go straight to sleep. He checked his watch, he didn't have to meet up with Thompson and Batchelor for another hour.

He sat down and turned on the TV, he instantly regretted it as the previous occupant of the room had left the set on a 24-hour news channel. As he looked at the remote to change the channel, a politician came on, he was being interviewed on the steps of the Capitol.

"That's right, tonight, the United States Congress will meet and vote on a measure to authorize the President to use military force against insurrectionist forces in the Commonwealth of Virginia and the State of Maryland."

"There can be no denying the fact, yes fact, that the recent massacre of Federal agents in Virginia and the ambush of Federal agents last month in a warehouse district just outside of the capital in Maryland means that dangerous, heavily armed, forces have arrayed themselves against Federal authority."

"Congressman! Do you have any information tying the murder of a state trooper in Maryland to this group, or these groups, ambushing agents of the BATF and the Park Service?" The reporter, from Baltimore, had a hunch and wanted to pursue it.

"No, no I do not. I can't speak to that, but honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if that incident was tied to the others. The suspect in that case had ties to militia groups in the area."

Beardsley switched the TV off, he then got up and looked out the window. Shaking his head, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. Then he realized, Wilt was right, elements in his own government were going to use these events to pass stricter gun laws. Didn't the idiots realize that gun laws didn't, and couldn't, prevent someone from having access to firearms. All it took was money.

He checked his watch, time to meet with Wilt and Willy. He was supposed to meet them at some place called Krazy Rayz Smokehouse, a local BBQ joint. He wasn't sure he was hungry or not, but it was a public place where they could eat and perhaps not draw any attention to themselves. He thought it was a bad idea, Hancock is a small town and strangers might seem out of place. But what the heck did he know, he was just an old Marine.

Secretary of the Interior John Nakagawa finished his meal and set his plate aside. "You were right Bill, that was pretty good. Much better than your average MRE."

Bill Aspinall, former Air Force pararescueman, or PJ as they were known, laughed and said, "Much better than a lot of things I've eaten, John. When do A-10 pilots eat MREs anyway?"

Nakagawa chuckled and said, "When we have to, being an Air Force pilot isn't all nice hotels and the sweet life. We Warthog guys get to rough it a lot. I mean, when I was in I lived in a tent for six months."

"Operation Inherent Resolve?" Aspinall asked.

"Nope, it was a classified op, think Yemen."

"Ouch, that was nasty."

"Yeah, now on to more pleasant things, 15 Mile Creek is supposed to be some good fishing, trout especially. I plan on getting up early and trying my luck. Do you fish, Bill?"

"Not since I was a kid. Be nice to try my hand, I'll watch and learn."

Nakagawa started to say something then realized, Aspinall wasn't here on vacation, he was here to keep the Secretary safe. So while Nakagawa fished, Aspinall would be watching things.

"John, you know we brought two teams out here, four men besides myself. They spotted something hinky right after we got off the Interstate, might be nothing, but it's why we're here at Number 3 and not Number Two as originally planned. I have them checking that out, before we hit the sack, one of the teams will be in our immediate vicinity. You won't see them, well, you shouldn't see them, if you do, let me know so I can chew their asses. But we're not alone out here."

Nakagawa nodded, "Good to know."

The Secretary got up and took Aspinall's plate, and his own, and headed for the opening to the tent.

"I can do that, Sir, er, John."

"Nah, I got this, you can watch my back."

As the two men stepped out of the tent, they noticed that the rain had stopped, but the fog was very thick now, it was seeping through the forest as night fell.

"Damn, I'd hate to be out there in that soup." Nakagawa said, without, at first, thinking of the four men who were out there. "Damn, hope your guys will be okay?"

"Should be no problem, John."

The barricades were up and signs placed to indicate that the exit was closed. There was a truck parked nearby, with phony Maryland DOT markings on it. Ted McAndrews and his partner, Jeff Conrad, would be spending the night there, sleeping in shifts. Though neither man expected someone to question why the exit was closed, you never knew when a nosy cop might poke his or her nose into things.

They hadn't blocked the eastbound exit 62 as there was a juvenile facility there. Blocking that would draw attention. But they were worried about people coming from the east. Well, not worried per se, but any trouble coming their way would be from that direction.

The other members of their squad were bivouacked up in the woods above the exit they had blocked off. They were well dug in and had an M60 machine gun in a camouflaged emplacement covering the off ramp.

They had another team covering National Pike NE, not far from the Exxon station where a shooting had occurred recently. The men all knew about the shooting but didn't know any of the details. No doubt they would have been surprised to learn that the man killed, and the man arrested, were peripherally associated with their own militia unit.

"Lou, better check the batteries in your NVG¹, you've got the first watch."

Lou Phillips nodded, he'd already done that, and picked up his M4 carbine. "I'm going to go back into the trees another fifty yards or so, sound about right?"

Frank Moscato nodded, "Yeah, we'll find you by the reflectors on the back of your helmet. Keep your eyes peeled, I'm pretty sure that government guy's security team is close to him. Probably nothing to worry about."

Phillips nodded, he had to take a piss and his back hurt, but he'd drawn the short straw and had the first watch. At least the rain had stopped. He tried his NVGs, muttering to himself, "Can't see shit out here."

"See him?" came over Woodrow Gaither's headset. His spotter, Kyle MacLauchlan had seen the man leaving the small bivouac. Both men had seen the M60 set up behind a pile of well-concealed sandbags. While those men had been setting up, they had moved in close to keep them under observation. In the fog, the dim light of the forest, and the ample vegetation, the two men were nearly invisible in their ghillie suits.²

"Roger. Sit tight." Gaither answered. He switched frequencies.

"Red Sun Two Alpha, Two Bravo, observing tangos, we'll stay put for now."

"Copy." The team chief, Larry Sellers, already knew that the men Hoss Winthrop had spotted were heavily armed and were probably up to no good. He and Winthrop were about a quarter back from Gaither and MacLauchlan. He'd already let the detail's chief, who was with the Secretary, know about the potential threat. But these men were facing away from where the Secretary was.

Sellers wondered why that was.

"Okay guys, there's going to be trouble in the morning, up along Interstate 68. A Maryland Guard unit is on maneuvers in the Green Ridge State Park area. We've got a team with heavy weapons who are going to ambush those guys when their convoy pulls off the Interstate to head to their maneuver area."

The three men were talking in the parking lot of the motel. Thompson was briefing Beardsley and Batchelor.

"After this, the Feds will have the ammunition they need to declare an insurrection and suspend Posse Comitatus. They'll probably federalize the West Virginia, Virginia, and Maryland Guard."

Batchelor shook his head, "What's the point of all this, Wilt? We don't need the Army beating the bushes for us. I thought we were going to sucker the Feebs into a trap up near the Pennsylvania border. I don't mind gunning Feds, but Jesus, soldiers?"

"Nah, there's another element at play here. The ambush team are fall guys, there's another group in the area that are observing them. Guys on our side. Contractors out of Annandale, they'll ambush the ambushers. There will be a big stink, but no Guardsmen will be hurt. They will be on scene, they will report back. Then the Feds will make their move."

"I don't see how that keeps the Army out of the woods, looking for us."

"There's no real cause, the Guard should see this as the Feds making a big stink over nothing that requires military involvement. I'm pretty sure that the governors of Virginia, Maryland, and West Virginia will balk over letting their Guard go under Federal control. I'm betting that even if the call goes out, half the Guardsmen, or more, won't report."

Beardsley chimed in, he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, "What happens then?"

Thompson grinned, "Then the Feebs get a report of a big arms cache up on the Maryland-Pennsylvania border."

"They go in, guns blazing? Then what?"

"BOOM! Just like the Rod and Gun Club."

Back in his room, Beardsley couldn't sleep. This was treason, had to be. He'd been on board at first, now he was having second thoughts. This was an insurrection and it was being directed from higher up than Wilt Thompson, that was certain.

But who? What was the end game here?

If things got much bloodier, Congress would act, whether it was Constitutional or not. Then what? Riots, fighting in the streets? Beardsley doubted it.

Sure, a few guys back in the hills might want to fight, but the majority of the American people? He had a sick feeling that many would just accept it. Then he had another thought.

What if Thompson and those above him were determined to kill more than just Feds? What if civilians were to be slaughtered under some pretext? Not by the Feds, but by the guys running this thing Beardsley was a part of.

Damn.

¹ Night Vision Goggles, a device which enhances ambient visible light and converts near-infrared light into visible light which can be seen by the user. (Source)

² A camouflage garment designed to look like the natural surroundings. They are very effective, if set up properly. (If you don't match the local flora, you could stick out like a sore thumb.)