Part 14 (1/2)
The group quickly dispersed, leaving only the senior aide and the head of the senator's Secret Service detail.
”Wade, tell me what's going on?”
Wade, his senior aide, sat across the table from him and began, ”We don't want to alarm you, but we're starting to get some chatter about a possible attempt on you in the near future.”
”We've been hearing that for weeks, maybe months.”
The agent interjected, ”Sir, this time it's different. I'm getting information from some of my contacts in the CIA this time. We should take the utmost precaution until the election. I recommend we abandon the train and transition to buses so that we can secure a wider perimeter of protection around you.”
”We've been over this a dozen times; the answer is still 'no', guys.”
His aide leaned in and pleaded, ”Jackson, this is Wade your friend, not Wade your aide talking now, okay? Please trust us on this one.”
Jackson Ames sighed and stared at the ceiling for a few moments before replying, ”I'll consider it, but I have to hear the details. I don't need a handler; you can talk straight with me, you know that. Now, tell me what you're hearing.”
Wade deferred to the agent.
The man considered his words for a moment before beginning, ”Sir, it's not so much what I'm hearing, it's who I'm hearing it from and how it's being told to me. If I put the intel in a report and submitted it to you, it wouldn't appear that different. On the surface it sounds like the same threats: during your speeches and in between stops. During the speeches we're afraid of a sniper attack and in between stops it's a strike against the train.”
”All old news; I've heard it all before. Lone wolf gunmen and unorganized revolutionaries don't particularly worry me; that's why you're here. So what is different about the chatter this time?”
”It's where I'm hearing it from, or rather, where I'm not hearing it from; none of it is coming from DHS or the Secret Service. I'm getting the same warnings as usual from them, the lower-level threats like you mentioned. What has me so concerned is how I'm getting the information from my friends in the CIA. It's coming through third parties, rather than the agents themselves. It's as if they're afraid to openly contact me and these aren't the type of men and women that're afraid of much.”
”I'm still not hearing specifics; level with me.”
The two men glanced ominously at each other. Wade proceeded laconically, ”We've got spooked spooks that're sending us warnings that you'll be the target of a high-level a.s.sa.s.sination attempt, and they're going to act soon.”
”Wait, what? Who are they?”
”The government, sir; or at least someone within the government.”
”The govern-the government? Our government?”
”We're being advised to pull you out of the campaign immediately. That's probably the only thing that will call it off, and our contacts aren't even sure that'll work. You're the closest thing we've had to a George Was.h.i.+ngton in a long time and they don't want this to spiral out of control any more than it already has. What if Was.h.i.+ngton had died at Yorktown, at the end of the war and the birth of the nation? Can you imagine the chaos? That's what the agents that're warning us are comparing it to, and it's their job to war-game scenarios like this. They're not in the business of being sensational.”
Ames rested his elbows on the table. He closed his eyes as he ma.s.saged his temples. He sighed deeply before opening them again and staring blankly past the two men. The room was silent for what seemed like an eternity before the senator finally spoke.
”How sure can you be that what you're hearing is true?”
”I wouldn't believe a word, if it wasn't for the men I'm hearing it from. They've done their due diligence and must believe it themselves; that's why they won't contact us directly. They don't want to tip their hat to the people around them.”
”Who've you told?”
”Who can we tell?”
The senator nodded. He stood and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sport coat. He paced the perimeter of the war room deep in thought. The men stood and watched as he paced, waiting for direction. Ames paused, dropped his head and stood in silence for a minute or two. When he was finished, he opened his eyes and turned to them.
”Even if I retreat, they'll come after me?”
”They might; we're not sure.”
”Oh, they will. I'm scalped if I do and scalped if I don't.”
The two men stood in silence, not knowing what to say to a man with a mark on his head.
”Was.h.i.+ngton, huh?”
Confused, the two men nodded and cut their eyes to each other, not sure of the point the senator was making.
He continued, ”What do you know about the battle of Monongahela?”
They both looked at the senator blankly before Wade replied, ”I can't even say that word.”
”Apparently not much,” Ames murmured, ”Okay, here's a primer: during the French and Indian War, a British force commanded by General Braddock was making its way to take Fort Duquesne. The fort was essential to gaining control of the area. Among his officers were Colonel Thomas Gage and a young George Was.h.i.+ngton.
The path Braddock chose through the thick, Pennsylvanian forests was narrow and unaccommodating. Their progress slowed to a crawl because of the widening of the path that was necessary to move the heavy artillery and supply wagons along it. Ultimately, Braddock made the fatal decision of splitting his forces into two groups. Gage was sent forward with over half of the forces. The remainder of Braddock's men stayed with the slow-moving supply train to continue the difficult task of clearing a path for them.
Gage's men were beset by a group of French and Canadian soldiers and Indian warriors. The Indians used the forest to their advantage and engaged in guerilla tactics. Gage and his men were routed. The larger British force was surrounded and in complete disarray. They withdrew back down the narrow path and collided headlong with Braddock's remaining force, further adding to the chaos and confusion.
The British forces faltered as the Indians surrounded them and began the ma.s.sacre. The scene was horrific; the Brits were scalped as they fell on the battlefield. The Indians filled the air with the sounds of their whoops and wails, further adding to the terror.”
”Psychological warfare at its best,” Wade interjected.
”Without a doubt it was. So, the Indians had learned to aim for the British officers. The British had no noncommissioned officers. If one fell in battle, there was no man trained to step in and take his position. A fallen officer left a void that could not be replaced. Out of eighty six British officers, twenty six were killed and thirty seven were wounded. After Braddock was shot in the lung, the majority of the forces broke and retreated.
The battle had been going on for hours at this point. Was.h.i.+ngton's had two horses shot out from under him, but he keeps grabbing another and to galloping up and down the ranks. He's shouting out orders and rallying men to hold their positions and to continue the fight. While the other men are cowering or retreating outright, he is the focus of the battlefield.
The Indians know he's obviously an officer, so they focus their attack on him, but they can't hit him. Wide-open shots and they just can't kill this man. They're in complete disbelief. Realizing something is amiss, the chief calls off the attacks against Was.h.i.+ngton. He realizes that this day is not the day Was.h.i.+ngton is to die; the Great Spirit has a plan for this man.
Was.h.i.+ngton continues to hold the line while the wounded escape. When he finally falls back, the Indian warriors set about scalping the dead and drinking the rum in the supply wagons, rather than pursuing the British. Was.h.i.+ngton's bravery and the scouts' frenzy was all that saved the remaining troops.
Was.h.i.+ngton later wrote to his brother and said that he found four bullet holes in his coat that day. He couldn't explain how he wasn't hit, other than Providence. Never, not then or ever, was he wounded in battle.”
The room was silent for a few moments.
Wade rubbed his scalp uncomfortably and finally replied, ”That's a really powerful story, but Jackson, we have to decide what we're going to do.”
”I just spent five minutes telling you what we're going to do.”
Confused and frustrated, his most senior aide and trusted friend threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, ”You're not making any sense; what are you talking about?”
The senator crossed the distance to the two men with a purposeful stride. He looked each man in the eye before continuing, ”We hold the line; we rally as many as we can. We give this wounded nation an opportunity to regroup. We don't dismount, we don't flee. I'll live like Was.h.i.+ngton or die like Braddock, but I've no other option before me. Now leave me, I need some time to myself.”
Chapter 23.
Reese Austin, Texas The road to Austin had been a taxing, five-hour drive; much longer than it should have taken him. The battered, GMC Suburban was not in as good of condition as Reese had originally surmised. It had overheated twice during the trip. He had eventually managed to exchange it for an old Dodge pickup that had been on the side of the road just east of Wyldwood. The pickup smoked fiercely and emitted a loud knocking sound from under the hood if he drove it over 50 mph, but so far it had not failed him.