Sly Whispers

Source

As McKellar left his neighborhood he noticed how quiet the streets seemed, hardly any traffic, no pedestrians, he didn't notice any police either. He supposed that with military helicopters over the city and with Navy jets shooting up Mather Field, rational people were staying at home.

General Cameron was in the back with Wilcox. Kasparovich was up front with McKellar, riding shotgun with McKellar's M4 ready to rock and roll. Cameron had been on the phone since leaving the house, from what little he overheard, the General was getting reports from around the state. It struck McKellar, perhaps only Winsome knew of the General's resignation, based on that Cameron might still be the Adjutant General.

"Heads up, Rob. Those guys up ahead, gangbangers from the looks of it.

The Humvee rolled to a stop some 75 yards from an impromptu roadblock. McKellar put his field glasses on them, yup, local hoods.

"How good a shot are you?" McKellar asked.

"Qualified marksmen in the Corps and with the Agency." Kasparovich answered.

"Sergeant McKellar, what's the problem?" General Cameron asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

"Gangbangers, blocking the road."

"What's your plan?"

"Have Rob drop a couple of them, send a message."

"Hold that thought." The General dialed a number on his phone.

"Whiskey Four-Two copies. Inbound in five mikes."

Chief Warrant Officer 2 Hercules Bardot grinned as he brought his AH-64 Apache around in response to the call from his ground controller.

"Heads up, Willis, we're inbound to a gangbanger roadblock on the road to Mather, El Dorado Freeway, eastbound lanes."

Staff Sergeant Willis Jefferson, sitting in the front cockpit, called back, "Gangbanger roadblock? What do they want us to do?"

"Light 'em up, discourage them from interrupting traffic."

"We're cleared weapons hot?" Jefferson tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. He hated gangbangers, two of his cousins back in the old neighborhood had been killed in drive-bys.

"Roger that."

"Don, I recall you had a thumper in this vehicle back in the day." Cameron said.

"Still do, Sir, it's behind Wilcox's seat. Grenades are in that ammo can in the back."

"Grenades?" Wilcox was really wondering what he'd gotten himself in to.

"Ah, that's what I want!" the General exclaimed as he found a smoke grenade.

Cautiously he stepped out of the Humvee, he couldn't be seen from the roadblock. He loaded a yellow smoke round. "Cover me, Kasparovich."

McKellar said, "Drop that c**ksucker next to the red Ford."

Kasparovich nodded and stepped onto the pavement, staying behind the door of the Humvee until everyone was ready. He saw the guy McKellar had called out, whispered, "sucks to be you, buddy" then stepped around the door, got his sight picture and squeezed off a single round.

As the target crumpled to the street, he heard the distinctive "cough" of the M79 grenade launcher from the General's side of the vehicle. As the gangbangers milled around, still puzzled as to what had happened to their guy, Kasparovich heard Cameron's phone squawk, "I see yellow smoke."

Cameron spoke, "Copy that, yellow smoke."

"Heads down boys, Hellfire inbound."

Seconds later the roadblock disappeared in a searing flash.

The rest of the trip to Mather was uneventful. Cameron was indeed still regarded as the Adjutant General and had been in contact with the Nevada Army National Guard, it was their helicopters that were over the city. He'd also issued orders to every unit in the state to stand down and cooperate with the Federal units on alert throughout California.

After they'd passed through the gate and made contact with the on-scene commander, Cameron and McKellar changed into their "battle rattle."

"Seems you guys were prepared for anything," Wilcox noted.

McKellar had also scrounged uniforms for Kasparovich and Wilcox, they looked out of place in their suit pants and hoodies. Now they fit in better, at least the Guardsmen had stopped giving them evil looks.

"So Mac, what's the situation right now?"

Colonel Mackenzie Bain, originally from Aberdeen, Scotland, commander of the Nevada Guard units in Sacramento answered in his faint Scottish burr.

"Well, Sir, the main body of bandits was in yon hangar, rather than send my lads in on foot, I mortared the bastards. Them that came oot into the open, armed, we shot. Those who surrendered, we've got that lot over at the motor pool, the only place with an intact chain link fence, wasn't many o' them."

"What about the local tenant units?" Cameron asked.

"Och, those lads and lassies kept their heads down, smart lot that bunch."

"VA Hospital?"

"Untouched General, that's about a klick and a half from where all the action was. I sent a platoon over to secure it, my lads say the hospital is fine. One place that isn't fine though, and that's the Capitol building."

"What happened there?" Cameron asked.

"Bad things, General darling, really bad things."

Most of the conservative politicians, as few as they were, had not reported when the House and Senate had convened per Governor Winsome's orders. Most of those assembled were true fanatics, they were determined to have California go it's own way. Many felt betrayed when their Chinese "friends" had severed contact with the secessionists.

"I swear, that new bitch they've got in charge wants to turn back the clock. Damned counter-revolutionary."

The speaker had been a rather scruffy looking, overweight, representative from San Francisco. He was wearing an old beret, fatigue pants. and a filthy fatigue jacket over a stained Che Guevara t-shirt.

"Jesus Manny, we don't know the situation over there. Premier Liu hasn't consolidated her power yet. Gotta take care of the home front first, then assist the worldwide movement. You know that."

State Senator Gladys Thorpe from Compton knew her dialectic, or thought she did. She was prepared to go all the way, she envisioned California as a socialist paradise and was ready to die for that.

At least she was until an Abrams tank parked itself across 10th Street on the Capitol Mall. Someone shouted that there were more tanks following that one.

"I see at least six Bradleys out there!" a man shouted from the front of the building.

State Senator Thorpe was headed for the rear entrance when she heard someone on a loudspeaker yelling for the politicians to come out and surrender. She heard gunshots then, she ran harder. A loud explosion followed and she fell to the floor, unconscious.

Cameron, McKellar, Wilcox, and Kasparovich were in a Blackhawk, about to land, when they saw a number of people stumbling out of the smoking capitol building, hands in the air, many waving a white article of clothing as a sign of surrender.

By the time they'd made their way from the Blackhawk to the front of the building, the Guardsmen had most of the state legislators kneeling on the concrete, hands zip tied behind their backs. Not a few were bloodied, either from being knocked down by an angry Guardsmen or from flying glass.

Off to one side were a number of bodies, covered in tarps and blankets. Cameron counted at least ten. One of the Guardsmen told him that an Abrams had put a high explosive round into the building when a number of people inside had opened fire on the tank's supporting infantry. Two Guardsmen had been wounded, one was killed.

A major in combat gear came over to the group, "You must be Cameron."

"That's Major General Cameron, Sir." McKellar barked at the Nevada Guardsman.

"Until I can figure out who's a traitor and who ain't, anyone wearing that f**king patch is the enemy."

Source

Cameron and McKellar were both wearing that patch, neither made a move to take them off.

Benny Wilcox stepped forward, holding out his DHS credentials and a sheet of paper, "You need to read that paper, Major."

The soldier took the letter, grumbled something about "Feds," but read the letter. Turning to his radio operator, he said, "Get on the horn to headquarters, we've got a guy from Homeland with a letter from President Nakagawa directing that we're to cooperate with the man with the letter."

The radioman walked away, he was in conversation with someone for a bit, then he returned. "That letter is legit, Sir."

"Well then, I guess the war's over. Apologies General, I ..."

"Don't sweat it, Major, can't be too careful these days."

"Guess not, begging your pardon, Sir, I need to get these people into custody."

"Your boss has a spot at Mather where he's got those rebels that seized the base under guard."

"Roger that."

Turning, the Major started bellowing orders, he decided that he'd march these bastards to Mather, he didn't care if they liked it or not.

As Cameron and his party returned to "their" Blackhawk, McKellar heard the Major yelling, "Anybody runs, shoot 'em. Goddamn it but I hope they all make a break for it. F**king traitors, all of 'em. Let's get this circus moving, Sarn't Major!"

As the Blackhawk lifted off, Cameron saw the long, sad-looking line of the wannabe Politburo types lined up, surrounded by U.S. infantrymen. Yeah, he hoped some of them tried to run as well. Bastards made his state hated across the rest of the U.S.

They were indeed, traitors.

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself.

- Marcus Tullius Cicero