Part 35 (2/2)
Forsythe smiled in antic.i.p.ation of paying back some scores. The only dark spot on his future horizon was the fact that the Seguin b.i.t.c.h was dead. He had been looking forward to her execution with s.h.i.+vering antic.i.p.ation.
”It's time to leave Juani. Time to leave here, to leave the state, to leave the country. We've lost.”
Juanita, unanswering, just swung her head minutely from side to side. She had cried herself out hours since and seemed to have no emotion left to her, no feeling at all.
”You'll go by car. I've got an unmarked civilian sedan. There's a trunkful of money in it. It'll take you to Brownsville where one of Hanstadt's people will see you across into Matamoros. 'Patricio' told me off line that he'll arrange to give you a refuge in Panama.”
Juani just continued her minuscule headshaking.
”Come on.” Schmidt reached for the woman's arm.
”No!” she shouted fiercely, pulling her arm away from Schmidt's grasp. ”No,” she repeated, more calmly.
”Stop being silly, Governor. It's time to go...and past time.”
”I'm not being silly,” Juani retorted. ”But I am not leaving until I have tried every last thing.”
”We have,” commented Jack. ”Nothing worked in the long run. Now we have to fight. That's all that's left. I intend to do it. And you are going, first to San Antonio and then to someplace safe.”
Schmidt might never have admitted it, even to himself, but the thought of his best friend's sister, who was also his governor, and even also the woman who might have, in a different and better world, become his wife, being hurt or killed had in part unhinged him.
”No...there's one more thing we can do.”
”What?”
”Can you still get me on television, one last time?”
”Why? What good would it do?”
”I want to talk to our people.”
”You want to go into the breach one more time?” asked Schmidt, somewhat incredulously.
”Jack, I have to. You say we've lost. I tell you I haven't even begun begun to fight.” to fight.”
Was.h.i.+ngton, DC ”Do you suppose the b.i.t.c.h is really dead, Caroline? G.o.d I hope so.”
The general felt a small quiver of disgust, not an emotion she had ever before a.s.sociated with Wilhelmina Rottemeyer. She answered, coldly, ”I don't know. No one knows.”
Willi looked at her number one military advisor suspiciously. ”What's your problem?”
”I can't go on with this, Madame President,” McCreavy said with reluctance.
”With what?” demanded Rottemeyer. ”It's almost over. A few more days, a week at most, and all of Texas will be back under control. Another few days and New Mexico will be broken, too.”
”You don't understand, do you?”
”Understand what? I understand that they've abandoned their capital, that their troops are pulling back. That Houston is being brought back under control.”
McCreavy sighed. ”Nothing is under control. The hostages you made of the Marines' families? I just found out this morning. They've been freed. Apparently the Marines who took the base back kept up appearances for a bit while they worked out some details. Now you can expect the Marines there by El Paso to join the Texans. And word has gotten out. The Second Marine Division has sent emissaries to the Texan forces facing them and declared a truce. Those two Marine brigades at sea in the Gulf of Mexico? Same deal. And the 18th Airborne Corps has said to h.e.l.l with you too.” Airborne Corps has said to h.e.l.l with you too.”
”I'll have them all shot!”
Again, McCreavy sighed. ”Then you'll have to give the orders yourself, Willi. I'm through.” With that McCreavy reached into a jacket pocket and removed a letter which she presented to Rottemeyer. ”That's my resignation.”
Before going on, McCreavy forced away the beginnings of a sob. When she continued, it was to say, ”And I'll be moving out today, Willi. All my things will be gone by this afternoon.”
Rottemeyer's eyes opened wide in shock and horror. ”Caroline, you can't can't be serious. You be serious. You can't can't leave me.” leave me.”
Tenderly, for she still felt some tenderness toward her President and now former lover, McCreavy reached out a hand to stroke a face. ”I must, Willi.”
Austin, Texas Juanita sat patiently while the studio makeup man applied a few finis.h.i.+ng touches. Holding very still, she attempted to make some order out of the chaos of jumbled thoughts and psychic agonies running through her mind.
The word had gone out over the airwaves, via telephone, and on the Internet, that there would be a major address by the governor. Of course, that word had gone out before her house was bombed and before she was listed as missing and presumed dead.
I'll just have to hope for the best, she thought as the makeup man stepped back, inspected, and turned and departed.
In moments, the studio chief began a verbal countdown, ending with, ”You're live, Governor.”
Across Austin, across Texas, and even across the world, people watched their screens and monitors as the olive skinned-woman lifted her face to the camera.
”Rumors of my death,” she began, wearing a somewhat strained and forced smile, ”have been greatly exaggerated.”
Was.h.i.+ngton, DC ”The b.i.t.c.h is still alive,” fumed Carroll, using a remote control to turn on the television in Willi's office and bring up the right channel.
”That's not possible. possible. You a.s.sured me she was dead.” You a.s.sured me she was dead.”
”Yeah, well,” drawled Carroll, ”I was misinformed.”
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