Out of the Ashes

“Yes,” Ben replied slowly. “Why the sudden change of heart, Logan?”

“A great many reasons, Raines.” The president's hatred slithered through the long lines like a snake. “Some of which will not be to your liking.”

I'll bet that's a fact. “When do you want to meet?”

“Next Monday. Ten o'clock, eastern time. Here at the capitol.”

Ben started to refuse, to name an alternate site, neutral ground. But he rejected the thought, knowing the president could, if he was setting Ben up for an ambush, have troops anywhere in America in a matter of hours. He said, “All my people will be armed, including myself.”

“No! That is totally unacceptable.”

“Then the meeting is off,” Ben said flatly.

“Do I have to remind you I am the president of the United States? My God, Raines—don't you trust me?”

Ben chuckled. “Hilton, you have got to be kidding. You were a closet bigot for years, using the minorities for votes only, and now your agents and troops are running around the country, knocking people in the head, taking their weapons from them. It's ten times worse than before the bombings. So, trust you—? Hell, no.”

A moment of heavy silence. “All right, Raines, do it your way. Monday morning.” He hung up.

Ben sat for a long time, watching Salina work her needlepoint. She lifted her eyes, meeting his. She said, “It's coming down to the wire, isn't it, Ben?”

“Yes. Logan will offer us impossible conditions, knowing we'll refuse. When we do, that will clear his conscience and he'll move against us.”

“Those troops that have been quietly moving into position all around us?”

“Yeah. He's blocked us from helping the Indians. He'll take them out first.” He looked at Salina. “Salina ... I want you to get out of here, up into Canada. You're five months pregnant; by the time Logan moves against us, you'll be too fat to wobble, much less run. I—”

“What do you mean, fat! I resent that. I think I'm having a rather slim, beautiful pregnancy.”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it. Salina ...?”

“No, Ben. I stay with you. End of discussion.”

He knew further argument would be futile. He called for Pal and Cecil and Ike and others, telling them of the news, and of his suspicions.

“I agree,” Pal said. “I'll put the country on low alert.”

“You'll have to stay behind, Pal—both of us can't be gone at the same time,” Ben said. “When I return, I'll go on the air with Logan's conditions. We'll leave it up to the people.”

“They'll never accept anything other than what we have,” Cecil said.

“Yes,” Ben said. “I know.”

They all left, leaving Ben with his thoughts.

Badger had been waiting in the outer office, as usual. When the group left, he strolled in without announcement, as usual.

“What's up, General?”

“Want to go to Richmond next Monday?”

“Not really. I like it here. But if you go, I go.”

Ben laughed. “Badger, one thing I've always admired about you is your bubbling enthusiasm.”

Badger sat down, cradling his AK-47 across his knees. “Yes, sir,” he said solemnly.

The three jets, formerly corporation jets—state airplanes, now—flew in formation toward Richmond. In the center jet were Ben and Salina, Cecil and Lila, Ike, Voltan, Steven, and Badger. In the other jets rode two teams of Rebels. Ben's personal teams. Eighteen men and six women.

All regular Rebels were good at their jobs, experts, but these twenty-four were among the best—or worst, depending upon one's point of view. They were, for the most part, silent as they blasted through the air, for to a person, they all knew war was just around the corner.

At the field in Richmond, they were met by VP Addison, several aides, and a dozen secret service agents. Ben suspected there might be a full brigade of troops lurking about the airport, and that thought amused him. He shook hands with VP Addison and grinned.

“No brass bands playing? No red carpet? No throngs of cheering people?” Ben asked. “My, you people don't like me very much, do you?”

The VP stared into Ben's eyes. “I don't like what Logan has planned, Raines. It wasn't my idea.”

“I know it. And that will be kept in mind.”

A half-hour later, they pulled into the drive of the new White House. The weather was dismal in Richmond, and Ben didn't expect Logan's welcome to be much better.

Badger stepped out first. “Wait here, sir,” he said to Ben. The bodyguard walked up the steps of the White House and stationed himself beside one of the huge pillars. The secret service men on duty held their hands away from their sides, to show him they had no intention of reaching for a gun.

“Just keep that thing on safety,” they requested.

Badger nodded.

Standing beside the limousines, an aide muttered, “The president is not going to be terribly thrilled about that man and his machine gun.” He glanced at Ben. “What do you think is going to happen, sir? Do you believe we're planning an ambush, or something?”

Ben looked at the aide. Without smiling, he said, “I wouldn't be a bit surprised.”

A piece of old verse popped into Ben's head:

Then you're ready to go and pass through with the bunch,