Part 23 (1/2)
198.
The six freedom fighters were being held in a downtown jail in New Syracuse, in a very heavily guarded facility. A team from Buddy's spec op group checked out the prison and reported back.”It can be done, Father,” Buddy told his dad, ”but not easily.''
”You don't think it's a setup?”
”I don't believe so. The place is literally crawling with Black s.h.i.+rts.”
”We don't have time to try to get a blueprint of the place. It's so new that if anyone tried that would be a dead giveaway that something was up.”
”It's going to be loud and risky, Father,” Buddy warned.
”Can't be helped. Osterman's supporters have to be shown that we will do exactly what we say we'll do. These people are under the command of the army of the SUSA. They're Rebels. And we take care of our own.” Ben stood 199.
199.
up and slammed a fist onto the desktop. ”So let's do it, Buddy.”
”My people are ready to go. Do we take any of the local groups?”
”Only the most experienced among them. This is not going to be any place for amateurs.”
”When do we leave?”
”As soon as possible. We can be there in a few hours. Pick the fastest route to the city and send teams of your people ahead to neutralize any roadblocks.”
”I have to point out anything like that will tell the Feds we're on the way.”
”Can't be helped. Let's do it, boy.”
Standing back a few yards from the father and son, Jersey smiled and said: ”Kick a.s.s time!”
Buddy's people did not finesse the taking out of the Fed roadblocks.
They blew them wide open with rockets and rolled on through without giving the dead and wounded a second glance. Ben and his group were right behind the lead team of Scouts, pus.h.i.+ng the Scouts hard.
The dozens of teams of Rebels and resistance fighters rolled dirough small towns on their way to New Syracuse. They met no trouble from the local police.
One local chief radioed to the FPPS HQ in New Syracuse: There is no way in h.e.l.l I'm going to sacrifice any of my people to the Rebels. These people are out in force and out for blood, and by G.o.d it isn't going to be mine or my mens'.
I am ordering you to throw up roadblocks and halt this Rebel advance, was the answer.
I have four words for you, the police chief radioed back to the Black s.h.i.+rt. f.u.c.k you. I quit!200 That sentiment seemed to be shared by all the local police.
The FPPS pulled as many guards as they could from around the jail and threw up roadblocks on the highways leading into New Syracuse from the north. They did not have the force or the will to match the fury of the Rebels. The Rebels and the freedom fighters tore through the roadblocks and slammed their way toward the jail.
The citizens watched from their homes as hundreds of Rebels and resistance fighters poured into their newly rebuilt city.
The men and women who made up the FPPS were bullies, but they were not fools. Those who were guarding the jail carefully laid their weapons on the ground and stood quietly with their hands in the air as the jail was completely surrounded by Rebels and resistance fighters. Many of them muttered somewhat brief but very sincere prayers.
Not a single shot was fired as the Rebels took control of New Syracuse.
Ben walked through the crowd of surrendered FPPS people until he was face-to-face with an older man who had been pointed out as the commander of the detachment.
”Your name?” Ben asked.
”Jim Barnes.”
”Well, Jim, you and your people got smart this night. We'll see if the smarts continue. For now, get those six freedom fighters out here.”
”Freedom fighters!” the commander of the FPPS blurted. ”You call these terrorists freedom fighters? Are you serious, General Raines?”
”Yes, Commander. I am very serious. Get those men and women out here.
And they'd better be walking and without injury.”
”If they were hurt, General,” Barnes said, ”they were injured while being arrested, not while in custody.”
201.
201.
”We'll have to see about that, won't we?”
”You don't believe me?”
”You work for Osterman, Jim. Do I have to say more?”
”I work for the United States of America. I enforce the laws of this government.”
”I don't intend to stand in the middle of the street debating the dubious merits of socialism with you. Get those prisoners out here-right now!”
Jim waved his hand, and four men and two women were brought out of the jail. The crowd of local civilians that had gathered around the jailbegan cheering. Commander Jim Barnes flushed in anger at the jubilation.
”My, my,” Ben said. ”You're not as well thought of around here as you might have suspected, Jim. Doesn't that make you wonder about your everlasting allegiance toward Madam President-For-Life Osterman?”
The commander of the local FPPS glared hate at Ben. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shut his trap.
”Destroy all the records,” Ben said, turning to Buddy. ”Then collect all the weapons, ammo, and other gear.”
”And then?” Buddy questioned with a knowing half-smile on his lips.
”Blow the d.a.m.n building!”
Commander Barnes paled at that. He muttered something under his breath.
”Something on your mind, Jim?” Ben asked, once more turning to Commander Barnes.
”That facility cost several million dollars to construct, General Raines. Taxpayer money. Aren't you going a bit far by destroying it?”
”Osterman went a bit far. We're just correcting her actions, you might say.”