Pablo raced across the room and slapped Pasqual in the face.
“If you knew an attack was imminent on me, why would you suggest I use the convoy?”
“I didn’t, sir. I told the captain that you needed to stay!”
Pablo didn’t know what to believe. The plot against him ran deep, if what Pasqual was saying was true. The only way to be sure he purged these traitors was to cleanse his army. The best place to start was with Pasqual.
“General, you might be correct, but I can’t take that chance. I have to speed this along, now that you’ve given me some other names.”
Pablo walked back to Jorge, grabbed him by the hair, and slit his throat. Thick, red blood poured from his neck and ran down his shirt.
Pasqual cried out but Pablo silenced his cries by taking the axe and planting it in his head.
When they passed the airport signs, memories rushed into Sebastian’s mind. The last time he had been to Boise was a few years ago. He had taken leave over Christmas and flew to meet Gordon and his family in McCall. That was one of the best times he had with his brother. They spent their days snowboarding at Brundage Mountain and their nights drinking cold beer and smoking cigars around the large fire pit. The mountains had always calmed him and disconnected him from the stresses in his life. He hoped that they still held that magical influence, because he needed it badly after the past few months.
The last twelve hours had been tense. Luke killing Brandon was a shock to both him and Annaliese. Following the shooting they promptly buried Brandon but left Jed and Flynn covered with a tarp in the back of Jed’s truck.
Sebastian had been tempted to take the vehicle but his conscience told him that the truck might be the only thing Jed’s family had for transportation. That could mean the difference between life and death, so he wanted to them to have it if they found them. He and Annaliese had discussed traveling to the ranch to tell them the news, but he thought that would be too risky. He didn’t want to roll into a firefight if Jed’s family reacted hostilely to their deaths, which was a distinct possibility.
Luke appeared calm and at peace with what he had done. Annaliese attempted to discuss the shooting with Luke. He would repeat the same thing he said right after he shot Brandon. “He was going to kill you. I couldn’t have him do that.”
Brandon was going to die yesterday regardless of who squeezed the trigger, that much was sure. Sebastian was just concerned about Luke’s mental state. The act of killing was easy, but the hard part was processing it internally. He and Annaliese finally agreed to leave him alone, and when the time was right they’d try to talk to him about it again.
“The best route is to go straight up Highway 55. I want to stay away from downtown so let’s take Eagle Road,” Sebastian said.
“However you think is best,” Annaliese responded, staring out the window. “You know, what about the mountain passes? Do you think they’ll be open?”
“I don’t know. I hope so, but we’ll go as far as we can.”
“Can you teach me to ski, Sebastian?” Luke asked.
Sebastian looked into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but I don’t ski, I snowboard.”
“That would be even cooler,” Luke said with a grin. It was the first time he had spoken in the past few hours.
“Sebastian, your brother’s name is Gordon, right?” Annaliese asked.
“Yeah, why?”
She pointed out the window. “Look.”
He looked where she was pointing and was dumbfounded. A wood sign with the name Gordon was plastered below a sign that read EAGLE ROAD.
“Is that for your brother?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to follow it.”
He turned off on Eagle Road and headed north.
All he could think was how strange that someone would post that. Questions filled his mind. Was that for his brother or someone else? If it was for him, what did they mean?
Barone had called for a tribunal to try Mayor Brownstein in the death of the Marine.
His hope was to show he could be judicious and wanted to play by the rules that Americans were accustomed to. The protestors had returned to the front of city hall and outside the ships within hours of Brownstein’s arrest. The size of the demonstrations was large. Not as big as the last one, but significant. The message coming from the group was that she should be released, and that though the Marine’s death was a tragedy, she didn’t pull the trigger. Conspiracy theories had even surfaced saying that Barone had planted the shooters to justify arresting her. Barone was beginning to feel like he couldn’t do anything to satisfy the people who opposed him.
Simpson and Roger Timms had reminded him that at least 80 percent of the town’s populations supported him and didn’t want him to leave or be tried. They didn’t agree with what he had done, but many were ready to forgive him.
He had joked with Simpson that if he could just get rid of the 20 percent, everything would be fine. That joke then turned to an actual idea. What if he could just arrest them all, take them to the edge of town, and drop them off? Problem solved. That, of course, was his sledgehammer fix, but if he wanted to stay put in Coos Bay, he’d have to be more diplomatic. The problem for him was that he thought diplomacy was for politicians. Barone liked to fashion himself the anti-politician. The urge to use his military might to take over was burning inside. It took most of his discipline to fight it. If Brownstein’s resistance continued past the tribunal he didn’t know if he could control his natural tendencies.
Roger then came up with an idea to negotiate with the others for her release. This could alleviate ratcheting tensions. The tribunal’s verdict had a predestined outcome and Barone had instructed them to ask for the death penalty if a guilty charge came back. This threat of death was given so he could put fear into her and make her change her tune.
After much deliberation he went with Roger’s idea. A meeting with those leaders who opposed him would be conducted immediately in city hall.
Barone typically liked to arrive very early to important meetings, but with this one he did the opposite. He wanted the people to wait for him.
Before he left his office, he placed his pistol in its holster. After what happened, he wasn’t about to walk into a room with a group of people who hated him and not have the means to protect himself.
As he strode in, feeling confident, he glared at each and every person there. The local leaders who opposed him had now grown to seven, including Brownstein.
Brownstein was sitting front and center. She too looked confident.
Taking his place at the head of the room, he began, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m not going to rehash what just happened. That’s a waste of time.”
“You’re right; this is also a waste of time. Whatever little clever idea you think you have here, it won’t work,” Brownstein said, lashing out at him.
“Just wait a minute, Mayor. I want us all to make this work. Here are the facts: I have a treaty with the United States. They have allowed us to move forward with our own country, the Pacific States of America. In exchange, we will join forces against the Pan-American Empire.”
“The only country we belong to is the United States of America. I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth anymore,” she berated him.
“Mayor, can we have a civil conversation?” Barone asked. He genuinely wanted to make it work, but her tone was beginning to annoy him, making it hard to control his temper.
“Colonel Barone, we don’t negotiate with terrorists and that is what you are to us. We will never make a deal with you, we will never obey you, we will never stop resisting you. These are the facts!”