"People aren't scared enough. That's the problem." The governor was halfway listening as he began to decipher what Trooper Truth had to say about DNA. "You know, he's right about trusting technology instead of human beings. Maybe we can figure out a way to make the public believe we have some new advanced technology that will catch them speeding even if there's not a trooper in sight."
The governor suddenly began to believe with religious conviction that this was the riddle Trooper Truth was hinting at. It was damn time to scare the public into behaving! Detectives and district attorneys did it daily by threatening suspects with DNA even if there was no
DNA recovered or if the analysis of it wasn't helpful. So why shouldn't the governor start scaring people, too? He was weary of being nice. What good did it do?
"We have all these new helicopters," he told his press secretary. "Let's scare the hell out of people with them."
"What? You want helicopters to find speeders and buzz them?" Trader didn't like the idea in the least, especially since he hadn't thought of it first.
"No, no. But I see no reason why we can't use them to check speeding from the air, pretend they've got fancy computers to do that, then the pilots radio troopers on the ground to go after the bastards." The governor's intestines were crawling again, as if they had some place to go in a hurry. "All we've got to do is post warning signs on the roads out there, and people will be scared into believing they'll be arrested, even if there isn't a helicopter or trooper within ten miles."
"I see. A bluff."
"Of course. Now, you go to work on that right away." The governor needed to end the discussion instantly. "Get back with me on the proposal and we'll issue a press release before the day is out."
"Using aviation to catch speeders is not a good idea," Trader warned him. "It's going to hurt your rating in the polls and create an explosive situation…"
Governor Crimm's gut was already creating an explosive situation, and he shot up from his leather chair as he ordered Trader out. Moments later, as Crimm sat behind a closed door with the fan going, he wondered who Trooper Truth really was and if there might be a way to influence what he posted on the Internet. How helpful it would be if the governor could get a thoughtful, philosophical person to disseminate Crimm's ideas and beliefs. Crimm reached for the portable phone on the shelf near the toilet paper.
"Who's this?" Crimm asked when a man answered.
"Trooper Macovich," came the hesitant reply from the Executive Protection Unit's outpost in the basement of the executive mansion.
Thorlo Macovich recognized the governor's voice immediately and hoped the governor didn't recognize his. Or maybe if he was lucky, the governor had already forgotten the incident that had occurred in the mansion's billiards room the other night. It was also possible the governor hadn't seen it, because he couldn't see much of anything these days. But that youngest Crimm daughter would remember Macovich, all right. He had never seen anyone pitch such a fit over losing a game of pool-yelling obscenities and ordering Macovich to stay in the basement and never come upstairs again, which was seriously interfering with his duties.
"Trooper Truth…" Crimm started to say as a cramp doubled him over.
"You all right, sir?" Macovich was surprised and alarmed. "Woo, what's that noise?"
"You got any idea who this Trooper Truth person is?" The governor could barely talk.
"No, sir. But everybody's sure talking about him. What's that? Sounds like somebody ripping bubble wrap. You sure you're all right, sir? Wooo, it sounds like somebody's shooting a gun in the Capitol! It ain't safe! I'll be right there…!"
"No! Don't come here," the governor blurted out as gasses pushed against his organs, struggling to escape.
"Find out who Trooper Truth… who he is. Make that your mission, you hear me? And tell the kitchen staff I want a light supper tonight. For God's sake, no apples or ham. Maybe seafood."
"From Virginia, I guess, sir." Macovich was relieved. Clearly, the governor didn't remember him.
"As long as it's not shad roe."
"Don't believe they catch shad roe this time of year. I can fly a state helicopter to Tangier Island and pick up fresh blue crabs, if that would please you, sir," Macovich added with reluctance because he hated going to Tangier Island. "And maybe trout."
"That's it!" the governor said, startled both by an idea and what sounded to Macovich like a deflating hot air balloon. "We'll start with Tangier Island! You troopers can put the first speed trap over there. Did you know they used to welcome Blackbeard on that island? Bunch of pirates, that's what they are. Well, I'll show them."
"They don't have posted speed limits on Tangier," Macovich pointed out, and he wasn't clear on what speed traps the governor meant. "Most of them Tangierians ride around in golf carts, sir. Or in little boats. And they already don't get along with the rest of Virginia. You mind if I ask what speed traps you're talking about?"
"We don't have a name for it yet." Governor Crimm mopped sweat off his face as his gut continued to play against him in a loud, painful percussion. "Forget the seafood. You can just pick it up when you paint the speed traps on the island first thing tomorrow. Now listen here, Trooper, get up with Trader and he'll brief you. We're going to make life's highways safe again, just like Trooper Truth said in that riddle on his website."
Macovich did not recall noticing a riddle on the Trooper Truth website, or anything at all that might have compelled the governor to decide that speed traps should be set on a remote island in the Chesapeake Bay with a population of less than seven hundred people. Macovich sure didn't want to be dragged into anything that had to do with Tangier Island, where there wasn't a single African American resident. In fact, when he was ordered to fly there to pick up seafood, he got the distinct impression that he was the only African American the Islanders had ever seen, except for ones on TV and in the catalogs the mail boats brought in.
Macovich left the mansion and lit up a Salem Light as he walked around Capitol Square, not especially eager to have a word with the press secretary about this or anything else. That son of a bitch Major Trader couldn't be trusted, and everybody knew it except the governor. Wooo, Macovich worried from inside his cloud of smoke. If the state police started picking on those Tangier people, there was going to be nothing but trouble.
"Let me ask you something," Macovich asked as he walked into Trader's office. "You ever been to Tangier Island or even met a Tangierian?"
"It's not the sort of place I would visit." Trader was perched over his keyboard and eating a chili dog that one of his assistants had brought him for a snack. "How many times do I have to tell you to take your sunglasses off when you're inside a building or it's after dark? I've worked very hard to change the image of all you troopers so the public doesn't perceive you as a bunch of thick-headed brutes." He gobbled up half of the hotdog in one mouthful and dribbled mustard on his stained, unfashionable tie. "Just because you're plainclothes EPU and fly around in helicopters doesn't mean you can go against protocol and make everybody look bad."
"Wooo, we're gonna look bad, all right," Macovich retorted, leaving his sunglasses on. "We go roaring into that island with our big helicopters and start handing out speeding tickets, those people are gonna do something about it."
"I believe that would be a mistake." Trader wiped his flabby lips with a greasy napkin and strategized quickly. The governor had yet to inform him that the first speed traps would be set on Tangier Island, but he wasn't about to let Macovich sense as much. "We'll lock every one of them in jail," he added as if he had already given much thought to the consequences should the Islanders rebel.
"Oh, now that's a good one, Mister Press Secretary," Macovich said, sarcastically. "Let's lock up the entire island of fishermen, women, and children. Not to mention all the old folks. We've got highway pirates running around loose out there beating the shit out of innocent truck drivers and smuggling dope into Canada, but we gonna make sure none of them Tangierians go too fast in their golf carts."