Home Invasion (13 page)

At the sound of the shot, the blonde screamed and jumped. Clearly she had never done any reporting from a war zone.

Alex reacted instantly, too, but not in panic. She drew her weapon, shouted, “Everybody on the ground!” and started looking for the shooter.

The coiffed and manicured on-air talent all scurried for cover. The cameramen and technicians conducted themselves in a more professional manner, crouching in hopes of avoiding any flying bullets, but continuing to tape what was going on around them.

Alex rushed past them. The shotgun boomed again, and she could tell that the sound came from the small parking lot in front of the stadium, next to the ticket booth, the athletic director’s office, and the field house. That was where the line of satellite trucks had come to a halt.

Alex saw that the dishes on top of the first two trucks had been blasted by buckshot and heavily damaged. The man holding the shotgun pumped another shell into the chamber and took aim at the dish on top of the third truck. Alex didn’t recognize him from the back. All she could tell was that he wore blue jeans, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a gimme cap.

Before he could pull the shotgun’s trigger for the third time, she shouted, “Hold it! Drop that gun! Get on the ground!”

She had her own pistol leveled at him. If he swung around and pointed the shotgun at her, she would shoot him. No doubt about it.

Instead, he looked back over his shoulder at her and grinned. “Oh, hey, Chief! These suckers can’t broadcast their bullshit without any antennas, can they?”

She recognized Billy Squires. He had gotten in the occasional drunken brawl in the past, but had never caused any real trouble until now. He sounded like he’d been drinking this evening.

“Billy, put that gun down,” Alex ordered. “You can’t go around shooting up TV trucks. You know better than that.”

From somewhere behind her, she heard the blonde’s voice. “I should have known whoever it was shooting would be a friend of yours, Chief. You’re always quick to excuse violence when it’s being done by your cronies, aren’t you?”

Alex ignored the taunt. She just wanted Billy to put the gun down so she could take him into custody and put an end to this debacle that was probably being broadcast live all over the country.

Billy looked sort of hurt, like a little kid who’d been reprimanded when he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong. “Aw, Chief,” he said, “you shouldn’t take up for these people. They come in here and they spread all those lies about us, and they don’t give a damn about poor Pete.” Billy wasn’t grinning now. He sniffled a little. “Pete was a good guy. He coached my Little League team ten years ago. What happened to him was
wrong.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that. “I know,” she said, “but shooting those satellite dishes isn’t going to change anything. You know that, Billy.”

By now people who had been praying along with the pastor had flocked down from the stands to see what was going on. Alex could sense hundreds, maybe even thousands of eyes on her. Millions if you counted the ones watching on TV.

Billy sighed and lowered the shotgun. He started to turn toward Alex.

“All right, Chief,” he said. “If that’s the way you want—”

The blonde screamed. “That redneck madman’s going to kill us all!” she cried.

People on the outskirts of the crowd couldn’t see what was going on. The reporter’s panicked screech sent them stampeding for cover. As panic always did, it spread rapidly, and within a heartbeat, the area under the stands was a seething mass of frightened people.

Alex ran toward Billy, grabbed the shotgun out of his hands, and kicked his legs out from under him. “Stay down!” she told him as he fell to the ground.

Alex turned toward the chaos and shouted, “Stop it! Settle down! Nobody’s in danger!”

Most of the people didn’t hear her. The ones who did ignored her.

Alex saw the blond reporter giving her a sly, triumphant smile. The blonde hadn’t panicked at all. The whole thing had been an act, calculated to set off something that they could propagandize as yet another redneck riot.

She had been successful, too. Things were out of control, and Alex didn’t have enough people on hand to settle them down. All she could do was let it play out and hope that nobody was hurt too badly in the stampede.

From the ground at her feet, Billy Squires said sheepishly, “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Billy, you did,” Alex said without looking down at him. “Big time.”

It was a little surprising how quickly the crowd dispersed. Since people had walked to the stadium, they were able to walk away, so there wasn’t the usual Friday night post-game traffic jam as folks tried to get their cars out of the parking lot.

Despite the best efforts of Alex and her officers, there were several shouting matches between townspeople and news crews. Fists were clenched, but no punches were thrown, at least not as far as Alex knew. She thought they had gotten off lucky.

That wasn’t the way it sounded by the time she got back to the police station with Billy Squires in handcuffs. As Alex came in, Eloise pointed to the TV set mounted on the wall. A cable news talking head was saying, “—another outbreak of violence in Home, Texas, tonight, scene of massive anti-immigrant protests in recent days and also the place where a man was shot to death earlier this summer for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

A bold graphic at the bottom of the screen read TEXAS SHOOTING SPREE—ATTACK ON PRESS.

The news anchor continued, “At another anti-immigrant rally held tonight in Home, one of the gun-toting citizens opened fire on news crews from this network and others, attempting to murder them with a shotgun. Here’s footage of some of the damage done to news trucks by stray gunfire as the assailant tried to mow down reporters and cameramen.”

“Wait a minute,” Billy said. “I didn’t shoot at nobody. I just shot up them antennas.”

“Billy Squires, did you do that?” Eloise asked. “Shame on you!”

Alex motioned for both of them to be quiet. On TV, the camera panned across the two ruined satellite dishes, then the footage immediately cut to close-ups of gun racks in several pickups, showing rifles and shotguns hanging on them.

The implication was obvious. Home was full of gun-toting lunatics who would open fire at anything that moved.

The cameraman hadn’t been content with that slanted image, however. Next the round face of the local Baptist pastor leaped onto the screen as he prayed for God to smite the evildoers. His face was flushed and covered with beads of sweat. To viewers on both coasts, the message would be clear: Home, Texas, wasn’t just full of gun-nuts. It was full of religious fanatics, too.

A bitter taste filled Alex’s mouth. Liberal spin, half-truths, and outright lies … those were the media’s stock in trade these days.

Betsy Carlyle came into the station. Alex took hold of Billy’s arm and gave him a gentle push toward her. “Betsy, would you put Mr. Squires in one of the holding cells?”

“Sure, Alex.” Betsy nodded toward the TV. “The story’s all over the radio, too. They’re sure makin’ us look bad.”

“Nothing new about that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not right.” Betsy took hold of Billy’s arm. “Come on, you.”

“Didn’t we go to high school together?” Billy asked the petite, redheaded officer.

“You really are drunk, aren’t you? We dated for two months in tenth grade, you damn fool.”

Billy’s face lit up in a grin. “Oh, yeah! I remember you now. Lil’ Betsy. We went out to Fletcher’s stock tank one night and—”

She shoved him down the hall and into the holding cell before he could continue reminiscing.

“What happens now, boss?” Eloise asked Alex as she leaned on the counter.

Alex sighed wearily. “I’m hoping it’s all over. The news media will smirk at us for a few days, then move on to whatever the next big story is.”

“What about Pete?”

Alex shook her head. “He probably won’t make it.”

“And that man Navarre?”

“Out of our hands now,” Alex said. “He won his court case, and he’ll collect his millions from the federal government and the gun manufacturer. He won’t get much from Pete’s estate, though. There won’t be much there.”

“What about the criminal charges against him?”

Alex grimaced. “I’m betting that Everett Hobson will practically break his neck getting into court tomorrow morning and asking that the charges against Navarre be dropped. The slimy lawyer of his made an end run right around justice.”

“That’s a real shame,” Eloise said as she shook her head. “It’s just not right.”

“No, it’s not,” Alex agreed. “I just hope this fuss tonight was the last of it. I’d like to see the town get back to normal. We’ve had enough trouble.”

Now, she thought, if everybody else would just go along with that …

“It’s extraordinary, isn’t it, Carl, for the President to comment directly on a civil settlement reached by the government?”

“That’s right, Roberta, but the rumor going around Washington today is that the President will have a major announcement to make regarding the Navarre settlement. So far there’s no hint of what that announcement might be, but sources close to White House Chief of Staff Geoffrey St. John indicate that it’s something very important to the President. He—”

“Excuse me, Carl, but we go now live to the Oval Office.”

“My fellow Americans, good afternoon. The past few days I’ve been very troubled, and no doubt you have, too, by the continuing reports of violence that threatens to spiral out of control in the Texas town of Home. Racial unrest and disrespect for law and order and our justice system, aggravated by a court decision in favor of a Mexican national gunned down for no discernible reason by an elderly citizen of Home who had amassed an arsenal of weapons in his house, has spawned several riots and near-riots in the community, culminating last night in an attack by shotgun-wielding vigilantes on gallant members of the media attempting to uphold the constitutional rights of a free press. These unconscionable actions, to which local and state authorities have turned a blind eye, leave me with no choice but to step in.

“In addition, the federal government, in its recent settlement with Mr. Emilio Navarre, one of the victims of the unwarranted attack earlier this summer that left him severely wounded and killed his best friend, has agreed to take action which will insure that no one else will meet such a tragic fate, at least in Home, Texas.

“Therefore, as of noon today, I am placing Home, Texas, and an area for ten miles around the geographical center of the town, under federal martial law, to be enforced by the newly-created Federal Protective Service, which was commissioned by Congress to serve as a national police force in times of emergency.

“If like I have, you’ve watched the news reports recently, you know that the situation in Home constitutes an emergency, and a grave one, at that.

“Pursuant to the Executive Order I signed less than an hour ago placing Home under martial law, all citizens of Home and the surrounding area will be required to surrender, temporarily, any firearms in their possession, until order is restored. This Executive Order applies to
all
citizens and
all
types of firearms. None are exempted except the members of Home’s police force, who will be allowed to keep their weapons, at least for the time being.

“There will be those argue that disarming an entire town like this is unconstitutional, but I would point out that as President, the Constitution gives me broad and sweeping powers to deal with emergency situations, and I believe that the easy availability of guns has fueled the discontent in Home until something must be done. The temporary suspension of rights granted by the Constitution is within the scope of my power, according to both the Attorney General and the Solicitor General of the United States.

“Therefore, I call on the citizens of Home and the surrounding area to peacefully surrender your firearms. Representatives of the Federal Protective Service are now on hand in Home and will be glad to take charge of your weapons for you. Refusal to surrender your arms will be considered a breach of martial law and will be dealt with accordingly, to the full extent allowable under the terms of this Executive Order.

“My fellow Americans, I promise you that I do not take these actions lightly or without careful, reasoned consideration. I know they are extreme, and I know they will not sit well with many of you. But this is the only way, and it’s for the good of the country. The violence must be stopped, and stopped now.

“Now, I call directly on the citizens of Home. Surrender your firearms. Cooperate with the Federal Protective Service. They’re there to help you and keep you safe. If you fail to cooperate and comply with the Executive Order, you will be arrested, you will be prosecuted, and you will face the consequences of defying the federal government. Choose wisely, citizens of Home.

“Your fate is in your own hands.”

“What do you think, Geoff?”

“The instant poll numbers are good, Mr. President. It’s certainly a bold move, and it seems to be playing well with the electorate, although there are a few holdouts who are clinging to the view that it’s unconstitutional”

“Those people do love to cling to their God and their guns, don’t they? Well, they’re just going to have to learn to accept that those days are over. This is just the beginning, Geoff, just the beginning. We’re going to get the guns out of the hands of every right-wing fanatic out there, mark my words”

“I agree with you, of course, sir…”

“But? I sense a but, Geoff.”

“Some of those people aren’t going to cooperate, sir.”

“Well… that’s why we have Casa del Diablo, isn’t it?”

It was eleven o’clock in the morning—noon, Washington time—and Alex was in her office at the police station wondering if she was ever going to get any work done. The phone rang every couple of minutes, as reporters from all over the country called wanting some comments on the “anti-immigrant riots and out-of-control violence” that had erupted in Home.

None of them wanted to hear it when she told them there hadn’t been any riots or any out-of-control violence. They just kept asking questions as if the scenario they had laid out was completely correct. The truth didn’t interest them.

So she had started saying she couldn’t comment on matters that were still under investigation, although the last few times she’d been more curt and just said, “No comment.” She was considering telling Jimmy to tell callers she wasn’t here. She didn’t want to do that unless she absolutely had to, though. She had always prided herself on being available to the people she served.

So she already felt pretty tense and impatient when Jimmy called through the open doorway of her office, “Delgado’s on the … radio, Chief. Sounds like we’ve got more … trouble.”

Alex sighed as she got up and went out to the dispatch station. She took the microphone from Jimmy and keyed it. “What’s up, J. P.?”

“The cavalry’s here,” Delgado’s voice came back over the speaker. “Or rather, the Federal Protective Service.”

“It looks like a damn invasion, Chief.” Delgado sounded angry and worried at the same time. “They’ve got armored cars and personnel carriers. We’re about to have a full-fledged panic on our hands again as people hear about this.”

“Where are you?”

“At the high school. They’re setting up a command post on the parking lot.”

“Son of a—” Alex swallowed the rest of the exclamation. “I’m on my way.”

Jack was at the school, she thought as a cold chill went down her back. And so were several hundred other kids.

Alex tossed the microphone back to Jimmy and said, “Call in everybody who’s off duty. Lester works patrol. Everybody else meet at the high school, ASAP.”

“Got it, Chief.” Jimmy began barking the call over the radio. When trouble broke out, he was able to lose some of the halting pattern to his speech.

Alex ran out to her car and headed for the school with lights flashing and siren blaring. As she approached the campus, she saw that Delgado was right. A dozen black SUVs were parked in the lot, along with four deuce-and-a-half trucks of the sort used to carry troops and a couple of armored cars with—Good Lord, Alex thought as her eyes widened in shock. Were those
machine guns
mounted on the vehicles?

Yes, she realized. Those were machine guns.

Like most people in law enforcement, as well as civilians who actually paid attention to what was going on in Washington—a dwindling number, unfortunately—Alex had heard plenty about the so-called Federal Protective Service while its formation was being debated in Congress.

The President, who was a strong backer of the idea, along with the senators who had sponsored the bill commissioning the organization, made it sound so benign and helpful. The Federal Protective Service would be a sort of national police force, available to help local authorities in times of disaster or strife. It would be better for everyone to have such extra assistance on hand, the President had mentioned several times in speeches. And there would be checks and balances on the system, because supposedly the Federal Protective Service could be called in only if local authorities requested its help.

A few politicians and commentators on the right had noticed that the actual language of the bill did, in fact,
not
make it a requirement that local authorities request aid from the FPS before it could be mobilized. Instead, the organization was to be considered part of the executive branch, which meant the President could send them in wherever and whenever he deemed it necessary. It was a perfect example of a technique perfected by the liberal politicians who had ruled Washington for the past decade or more: convince the public of one thing with a lot of lofty-sounding speeches, aided and abetted by the media, of course, when the truth was actually the direct opposite of what they claimed.

Unfortunately, one of the conservative politicians who had tried to expose this fraud had made the mistake of comparing the FPS to the Gestapo of Nazi Germany, and the media had gone ballistic, screeching nonstop about how anyone opposed to the FPS’s formation was just fear mongering and, anyway, how dare anybody compare the President and Congress to a bunch of Nazis? That just wasn’t called for and was an example of how people who were opposed to their policies were just evil and stupid and unpatriotic. And on and on,
ad nauseum,
as usual, cheerleading for the radical politicians they adored.

So it was no surprise that the FPS bill had passed Congress in a strict party-line vote a couple of weeks earlier, the same way every bill in this administration and the previous one had passed, and the President had signed it into law immediately, hailing it as a new step forward for the country.

Everyone involved with the FPS claimed that no one had been recruited, trained, and equipped for it yet. That process was just now supposed to be getting underway.

And yet, as Alex pulled into the high school parking lot and saw all the vehicles with hundreds of armed, black-uniformed, helmeted figures moving around them, she knew that was yet another lie from the left. A military force like this one couldn’t be pulled together in a couple of weeks. It was clear to her that for all practical purposes, the FPS had existed for at least a year before the bill authorizing its creation became law.

Chances were, nobody could prove that, and even if they did, the media would ignore it, the politicians would deny it, and the gullible sheep who had put those people in office would believe whatever they were told.

Alex knew that, but the knowledge didn’t make her any less angry right now. She had heavily armed personnel setting up shop in her town, and she didn’t like it.

Not one damned bit.

She brought her police car to a screeching halt, got out, and started toward a huge black RV bristling with antennas. All that communications equipment told her that this was the FPS command post. It had the organization’s logo emblazoned on its side: an eagle surrounded by a band of stars and also encircled by the words FEDERAL PROTECTIVE SERVICE.

A couple of men carrying assault rifles moved to block her path. “Excuse me, ma’am,” one of them said. “Please state your name and your business here.”

Alex bit back an angry retort. She knew how to deal with the military, and despite the idea that the FPS was supposed to be a “police” force, she recognized these men for what they were, elite shock troops.

“I’m Alex Bonner, chief of police here in Home. I’d like to speak to your commanding officer.”

One of the men nodded. They wore black goggles that were attached to their helmets, so she couldn’t see their eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. Colonel Grady wants to speak to you, too, and gave orders that you were to be escorted to him as soon as you arrived.”

“So he knew I was coming, did he?”

“I guess he figured you’d want to know what was going on, ma’am.”

“He was right about that,” Alex muttered.

The two men parted, then flanked her as she walked toward the RV. Someone inside must have seen her coming—they probably had video cameras monitoring everything—because a door in the side of the vehicle opened and another black-uniformed man lowered some folding steps to the asphalt of the parking lot.

“Right this way, Chief,” he said.

Alex climbed the steps into what could have passed for a control room at NASA. There were video screens and computer monitors and gauges and blinking lights everywhere. She experienced a moment of mild disorientation because it appeared that the inside of the RV was larger than its outside, which was physically impossible, of course. But that was the way it looked to her stunned eyes. Male and female technicians in black uniforms were packed into the command post.

The man who had let Alex in told her, “The colonel is right over here, ma’am.” He led her to a video screen where another black-uniformed figure stood watching what was on the display. This man stood erect, with his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t wear a helmet like the others but was bareheaded instead, revealing a thatch of iron-gray hair that matched his tanned, rugged face. The soldier with Alex said, “Colonel, here’s Chief Bonner.”

The colonel turned to her, nodded, and extended his hand. “Chief,” he said. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m Colonel Charles Grady.”

Alex shook his hand. “With all due respect, Colonel, what are you and your soldiers doing here in my town?”

Grady smiled faintly. “These men and women aren’t soldiers, Chief. They’re officers. Police officers, just like the men and women who work for you.”

Alex wanted to say
Not hardly,
but she controlled the impulse. Instead she said, “But you’re a colonel. That’s a military title.”

Grady shrugged. “I’m a retired colonel, actually. Now I work for the Federal Protective Service. My superiors have been kind enough to allow me to keep the rank.”

“Which still doesn’t answer the question of what you’re doing here.”

“Following orders,” Grady said. “I would have notified you in advance of our arrival, but those orders specified that I not do so. From one commanding officer to another, ma’am, I apologize for that.”

“The President sent you here, didn’t he?”

“The FPS is part of the executive branch, yes, ma’am.”

Getting a straight answer from this man seemed well-nigh impossible. Alex kept trying, though, asking through clenched teeth, “Why?”

Grady glanced at a watch strapped to his wrist and then gestured at the video screen in front of him. “I believe if you’ll just watch this for a few minutes, Chief, you’ll have all the answers you need.”

Impatiently, Alex glanced at the screen and saw that it was showing a cable news feed. A man and a woman were talking, then a moment later, they shut up and the broadcast switched to a location Alex recognized.

The Oval Office in the White House.

The President sat behind his desk, looking as handsome and photogenic and sincere as ever. He spoke in a calm, assured, rational voice.

And yet as Alex stood there watching and listening, the world seemed to start spinning crazily around her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Even after all the outrageous things this president and the previous one had done and gotten away with, this new trampling of the Constitution was shocking.

When the President’s speech was finished and the news anchors came back to talk about how wonderful he was and how everything he had said was right, Alex turned to Colonel Grady and said, “So you’re here to take away all the guns that belong to the citizens of Home.”

“And the surrounding area, yes, ma’am,” Grady replied. “Those are our orders.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Actually, Chief, we can. The area is now under martial law. Technically, you no longer have any authority here. “ Grady smiled. “However, for the sake of the public good and to make the entire process run smoother, I’m asking you and your force to cooperate. The citizens are much more likely to comply peacefully with the order if they see that their own police force thinks it better for them to turn in their guns.”

“I won’t do it,” Alex said flatly. “It’s not legal.”

“If the President says that it’s legal, then it’s legal, as far as I’m concerned.” Grady frowned. “As he said, you and your officers will be allowed to keep your weapons, Chief. I want you to continue enforcing the law in Home, just as you have been.
But
… that decision can be suspended if I see fit to do so. I have the authority to demand that you and your officers surrender your weapons as well. I’d prefer that you not force me to do so, Chief.”

It was all Alex could do to control the fury that welled up inside her. She knew she was outnumbered and outgunned. She couldn’t stop Grady from doing whatever he wanted to do.

But she didn’t have to help him, and so she shook her head. “I won’t try to stop you,” she said, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to help you.”

“Then just stay out of our way,” Grady snapped. “I won’t be needing you anymore.”

“You mean—”

“I mean you’re free to leave, Chief. Have a good day.”

Yeah, Alex thought bitterly. Like that was going to happen.

She had a feeling that the good days in Home were over.