Uncivil Liberties (41 page)

“Good day to yer, General Connor. If you’ve time for a stroll with a friend of the old sod, be at the Washington Memorial, Friday morning at 11:00.”

Pug quickly glanced at his watch, which read 7:45. He had j
ust
enough
time
to finish reading the Domestic Tranquility analysis paper Carlos had prepared and to meet with the Trojan team to discuss the pros and cons of the analysis. He pressed the intercom button.

“Carlos, just got an interesting phone message. Could you join me for a few moments, please?”

“On the way, General,” Castro replied.

As soon as Castro stepped into Pug’s office, Lieutenant Holcomb followed him. Pug smiled as both men entered the room. Holcomb deferred to Carlos at the doorway, a sure sign that the junior officers were accepting a former enlisted man in a senior position.

“Two Marines and a Naval Lieutenant in the same room. What should we make of that, Mr. Deputy Director?” Pug quipped. Holcomb had often been the foil in the service rivalry in the office.

Without the slightest hesitation, Castro puffed his chest and lowered his voice several decibels, replicating the Marine drill instructor’s soft warning that was often delivered just before the in-your-face, spit-flecked tirade. He assumed the third-person personae, so familiar with drill instructors. “General, the Deputy Director, with Marine green blood still flowing in his veins, believes that the Naval officer in question has experienced an epiphany and deeply regrets his choice of military service. It is my opinion, sir, that he has come to request an immediate transfer to the Corps,” Castro replied.

Pug laughed out loud while Lieutenant Holcomb stared silently at Castro. In the first few weeks of operation, each of the officers selected to be part of Trojan had responded well to the presence of a former enlisted man serving as Deputy Director. On several occasions, some of the team had privately shared with General Connor their admiration for the new deputy and his ability to grasp the most abstract concept of their operation.

“Hardly, Mr. Castro,” Holcomb added. “Despite your transition to the civilian world, where your co-workers have tried to teach you the protocol for the use of a knife and fork and more importantly, a napkin, this Naval lieutenant thinks it’s more likely that with two Marines in one location, and in recognition of said Naval lieutenant’s responsibility to the Naval Service, which includes the
subordinate
service commonly referred to as the Marine Corps, said Naval officer was required to assure protocol was observed and he felt it his duty to prevent any disparaging behavior and protect the image of the
Naval
service. With all due respect to our Marine commander, of course, General,” he said, a sly smile on his face.

“Okay, “Pug said, “the obligatory inter-service rivalry having been accomplished for today, two petulant Marines having been properly chastened, shall we proceed with the nation’s business? I’ve had a voice mail contact from an
old Irish associate
. Carlos, it’s your new friend from Dublin, Mr. Donahue. He wants to meet with me at eleven hundred hours near the Washington Memorial. Carlos, can you arrange perimeter security, please, and keep it low-keyed?  But I want a shooter within range.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“And Jim, I’ll want you in the van to monitor the conversation. I’ll be wired, although my contact will assume that and likely not speak plainly.”

“Will do, General. Can you tell us what this man wants?”

“I’m not certain. He’s
a former brigade commander in the IRA. I’ve known him for about six years, met with him twice, in Ireland and Brussels. I sent Carlos to meet with him in January.”

“Do you know the subject of today’s meeting, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

“No. But this is the man who put us on to Wolff and the domestic shooters. Maybe he’s opened a new link.”

“We’ll be ready, General,” Castro said.

 “Right then. Hop to it,” Pug said. “I expect everyone to be up to speed on Domestic Tranquility and Trojan’s analysis by our staff meeting at 9:00. I’ll keep it short, about thirty minutes, so we can get ready for the following meeting with our Irish friend.”

The Washington monument was a central icon in downtown Washington D.C. Thousands of tourists visited the site every day of the year. Ironically, in the nearly three months that random shootings had dominated the American landscape, none had occurred anywhere near D.C.

Trojan had considered that intentional and determined it was not an oversight, but perhaps preparatory to the D.C. area being the target of a much larger, coordinated attack similar to the nationwide baseball park shootings which had kicked off the Wild Bunch. An attack such as the Overland Park Mall or the aborted attack in San Antonio was imminent and was a constant threat. The absence of shootings, however, had not lessened the presence of security. Capitol police had been augmented by regular Army forces and BDU-clad soldiers were visible on every street in the downtown area. The outside mall from the Capitol Building to the Lincoln Memorial reminded him, as Lieutenant Holcomb had once exclaimed, of the penalty quad at Annapolis after a particularly rough weekend of miscreant behavior by midshipmen, with dozens of uniformed personnel walking punishment tours. Holcomb admitted that he had been among the throng during his first year at the Naval Academy. Pug had admitted to a few laps himself during his academy days.

At 10:30, Pug strolled casually from his office toward the needle-shaped obelisk—some called it missile-shaped—pausing on the corner to buy a hot dog and a Sprite. As he approached the monument, he sat down on a bench and began to eat, watching the tourists stroll by, or enter and leave the monument. It was a brave soul who ventured forth to climb the 897 stairs to the pinnacle
,
which, some years earlier had been closed due to safety concerns. In about ten minutes, Kevin Donahue quietly slid into the seat next to Pug.

“
Top
‘o the morning to you, General.”

“Good morning, Kevin. Did you come in through customs, or slip across from Canada or Mexico with the illegals?”

“Which method will allow me to stay and draw retirement pay?” Donahue asked.

Pug laughed. “The latter, I think. Both are entitled to health care and are safe from politically incorrect ethnic jokes. So, what brings you to America . . . this time, Kevin?”

“From the news broadcasts, the information I gave you in Ireland seems to have been accurate.”

Pug nodded. “And it was appreciated. You called, I came, and I’m here listening. You didn’t make the trip to confirm earlier information. What’s up?”

“Given our friendly, cooperative association, I thought some of the
facts
needed to be
corrected
. I may have left you with the wrong impression and I didn’t want you to think I misled you, at least not intentionally.”

Pug raised an eyebrow, turning to look directly at Donahue. The older man continued.

“We’ve
both
been misled, lad, and I don’t want to leave that impression.”

“I’m listening,” Pug repeated.

“Did I ever tell you about me sister, General? A beautiful lass she is. But a bit obstinate. Never would listen. She married a fellow from Donegal. Kilpatrick was his name. Sure now the Kilpatricks are a sturdy lot, but a bit inclined to skite, if you know what I mean. They shoot off their mouths too often, taking the mickey out of anyone they think less fortunate.”

Pug knew enough to keep quiet. Donahue would get to the point soon enough, but in his own Irish, literary way.

“Anyways, Maureen, that’s me sister’s name, by the way. Maureen and Kilpatrick had a young lad named Sean. Sean was too young to become involved in the ‘business,’ if you get my meaning. He didn’t have the benefit of years of experience. And when my lot, the old timers, smoked the peace pipe with the bloody Brits, Sean was unable to find local work, so he had to find suitable outsource work, so to speak. Do ya understand, General?”

“I’m with you, Kevin. The IRA was no longer recruiting disaffected lads, but other causes were always in the market.”

“True enough. Such lads are needed in many places. Young Sean and some of his mates have worked with another of me associates from the old days, Devlin Hegarty.”

Pug was familiar with Hegarty’s name. “
He
didn’t lack experience from the old days, did he?”

“Right you are, General. Top marks. Anyway, Hegarty took young Sean under his wing and they’ve been working far and yonder, North Africa mostly, sometimes among the Islamic radicals, working both sides, if you know what I mean. My generation called them wild geese. Soldiers of fortune, I think the Americans call them. Mercenaries by any name perform the same function, regardless the paymaster.”

“Is this going somewhere, Kevin?” Pug asked, his patience growing a bit thin.

“Ah, General,” Donahue said, removing his pipe from his side coat pocket and knocking it against the sole of his shoe, then beginning to fill the bowl, “sure now you should have been born and raised where your grandfather was so you could understand the Irish way. There’s no need to rush a good story. The ending is just as satisfying with a bit of learnin’ along the way. With peaceful joy running rampant on the old sod, what else have I got to occupy my time?”

Pug smiled and nodded his assent. “Sorry, Kevin. In your own time, then.”

“That’s a good lad,” the older man said, putting a match to his pipe. “For the past few years, Devlin Hegarty has been doing the odd job for a private security firm, an
American
firm, called Strategic Initiatives.”

Pug sat up straighter, his attention now riveted.

Donahue nodded. “Thought that might be of interest. Here’s the kicker, General, darlin’. Some of my old associates tell me that Hegarty has been recruiting from among our younger lot, forming a para-military squad. But he has
also
been recruiting some of the disaffected Islamic lot in North Africa, promising them the pot o’ gold  and a chance to meet Allah. And to meet him on
American
soil after having dispatched Satan’s followers first. If ye get my meaning.”

“How do the two tie in?” Pug asked.

“Well, my sister is attending a funeral in Derry this week, seeing to her oldest son, the aforementioned young Sean Kilpatrick, after his body was returned from  . . .  San Antonio. He was the Strategic Initiatives team leader who brought down the terrorist squad. He caught the unfortunate bullet in the head. But from what the grapevine in Ireland says, General, the terrorist lot
also
worked for Strategic Initiatives. Sean worked for Hegarty, Hegarty worked for Strategic Initiatives. Hegarty also recruited the Islamic lot, both North Africans
and
American Muslims. Tight little family group it seems.”

Pug was absolutely silent, his mental gears working overtime.

“You mean—”

“I mean, General, that you may be chasing the wrong fox. There’s another point to clarify. The asshole you captured in Indonesia, the illustrious Mr. Wolff—it seems I was
supposed
to find out about him and to relay the information to the Americans. Someone
wanted
you to know they were coming. And I was the fool in the middle. Not proud of that, lad, not proud at all.”

Pug remained silent for several seconds, his thoughts ruminating. “You’re saying the terror teams that hit on American soil, even the larger mall attacks, might have been recruited and planned by Strategic Initiatives? That both attackers
and
defenders were planned by the same group?” he asked, seeking to clarify his thoughts.

“It wouldn’t be the first time in history, lad. Al Qaida is certainly having a field day around the world, but are they the
real
culprit here in America? Even Al Qaida may not know who set this up. They probably don’t care. Americans are getting killed. Allah is being praised. And World Jihad is getting the credit. Remember, for the most part, these disaffected groups work in independent cells. They might have been duped as well, since the objective meets with their stated goals. But who stands to benefit from this new American legislation? As these attacks on American soil increase, and they
will
, General, who will provide the tens of thousands of security forces and surveillance equipment throughout America? Who was on the scene immediately when the San Antonio terrorist lot were, uh,
coincidentally
observed in preparation and then overcome by an attack of lead poisoning? And that’s not the end of the issue, lad. From what I’ve been told, there’s lots more to come, what your military calls ‘blue-on-blue’ engagements.”

Pug thought about the dreaded military term for friendly fire, considering for a moment what Donahue could mean.

“Are you saying some of our own military is going to turn rogue? Attack other units?”

“Probably not active duty military forces. I don’t know the details, but my source seems to feel that some of your federal agencies are in danger of internal attack, most likely from the western militia units. It’s all tied into this growing secession mania out west. And they
did
attack federal agencies last year in California, didn’t they? He says the militia is also going to start cracking down on illegal aliens, not only Mexicans, but those who they think are of Middle Eastern origin. They feel the growing public support for the secession of western states gives them legitimacy. If they kill a few hundred Mexicans, it will make border crossings a bit more risky.”