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Monday, May 30
Dallas, Texas
It was a miserable day for a funeral.
Traffic and weather combined to slow the drive from the airport to a crawl. The trip consumed more than an hour.
“What’s with all the rain?” Miller asked from behind the wheel.
Johnson said, “May’s our rainiest month. We usually get at least a couple of real downpours that last all day. This storm is shaping up to be one of them.”
Redstone’s funeral was scheduled to begin before they had actually arrived. Johnson checked with agents at the church. He confirmed that the service had been delayed in order to give everyone a chance to get there.
The rousing cacophony of the protestors penetrated inside the heavily armored SUV before Miller turned the corner on the final approach to the church. Raised voices, blaring horns, short siren blasts, even a few bad mufflers on large pickup trucks combined to deafening levels.
The crowd size was already overflowing the wide spaces allotted and more protestors continued to arrive. Bus loads pulled up on the side streets and dozens more protestors spilled out.
Bedraggled but determined, they milled about on both sides of the street, spilling into the traveled portion of the roadway, shouting and thrusting their fists into the air. Handmade cardboard signs were as soggy as the people who carried them.
Kim tried to read the slogans, but the rain had smeared the ink or simply washed the words away. The protestors remained undeterred.
Dallas police had been deployed in significant numbers to keep the protestors separated from the mourners and out of the traffic, but the officers seemed to be losing that skirmish.
Protestors were climbing over the barricades or slipping between them to pound on the black SUVs and sedans and shout into the closed windows. The vehicles continued to roll toward their destination and the protestors targeted the next vehicle in line.
Kim noted several SWAT trucks parked along the periphery. Additional personnel filed out of the boxy trucks and vans to join in the crowd control effort.
Cooper shook his head sadly. “Used to be people were respectful at funerals. These days, what should be a solemn occasion is fair game for all manner of offensive behavior.”
Just as Cooper finished his sentence, a protester on one side of the road up ahead ran toward the SUV.
He stopped, set his feet, and threw something under the vehicle. Like a softball pitcher lobbing an easy grounder.
Kim’s view was obscured, but the object looked like a smoke grenade.
The pitcher’s aim was off.
Instead of rolling under the SUV, the grenade hit the vehicle’s body near Kim’s seat with a solid thud and dropped to the street.
Momentum carried the grenade farther. It stopped when it hit the curb.
Plumes of pink smoke filled the air obscuring the entire SUV.
A loud cheer rose from the protestors.
The smoke was so thick Kim could barely see through the dense pink cloud for a few seconds.
Thanks to the driving wind, the smoke lifted and dissipated faster than it should have.
Kim got a clear view of the guilty protester as he ran back toward the crowd. Just before he reached the opposite curb, he slipped on the wet pavement and fell to the ground.
A couple of his buddies tried to hoist him up. But they weren’t fast enough.
Opponents rushed into the fray. They shoved a few more protestors on top of him.
A full-on brawl broke out.
Fists flying, noses bleeding, shouting voices loud enough to wake the dead.
Dallas police officers rushed forward to control the pandemonium.
It felt surreal to watch the riot from inside the SUV and do nothing.
“Should we lend a hand?” Kim asked, reaching to open the door.
“We don’t have any riot equipment because we checked on this before we arrived,” Johnson answered from the front seat. “They have their protocols in place. They’re trained to work together. Police chief asked us to let them do their jobs without interference. Our orders are to stay out of the way.”
Cooper straightened his tie. “The locals will have it under control in a couple of minutes. If they change their minds about wanting our help, they’ll ask for it.”
Kim looked ahead at the long line of cars, vans, and SUVs waiting to enter the church. No one left their vehicles. Perhaps the protocol for violent protests was to stay inside the vehicle’s protective shell while the professionals quelled the disturbance.
Before Kim had a chance to argue the point with Cooper, Dallas PD flipped on the lights and sirens atop several squads.
An ear-splitting Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! filled the air. The lights strobed across the faces of the protestors, casting their features in strange reds and blues.
When the siren bursts failed to restore order, the officers drew their clubs and shields and waded into the melee, to break up the fights.
“What’s this about?” Johnson asked. “Social issues? Military campaigns? What? Redstone wasn’t that controversial, was he?”
“All politicians are controversial. They make a career out of it. No controversy means no problems for them to exploit,” Miller said with a shrug. “Besides, these clowns don’t need a reason. Senator Redstone died. Lots of press coverage at his funeral. That’s all they need to show up and make trouble.”
Kim didn’t argue. But according to her quick research, the issue these protestors were energized about was more than a desire to cause a riot and get their faces on the news.
Replacing Senator Redstone in the Senate could upset the balance of power in Texas and perhaps the US Senate as well. Several social and economic issues were on the line. Enough to energize a sizable, dangerous crowd.
Through the usual back room dealing that goes on in government, the senator’s job had been temporarily awarded to his son, Teddy Redstone.
He got the job because he was born to the right father. Simple as that.
The challenger was a popular local politician named Luis Trejo. His supporters claimed he should have been appointed to fill the temporary position.
Everyone agreed that the interim appointment was sure to lead to a landslide in the special election for the man sitting in the senator’s seat when the voting started.
Reelecting the temporary incumbent was a damned sight easier than climbing up from the masses.
Meaning Teddy Redstone would replace his father indefinitely. At least another twenty years, probably.
Luis Trejo and his supporters would be left without power on the issues that mattered to them most. They saw the situation as now or never.
Both sides of the dispute were outraged and adamant. Big trouble was definitely brewing here.
An ambulance moved slowly through the crowd, shoving protestors aside like the bow of a ship plowing the ocean.
Several loud bursts of thunder broke through the clouds and went ignored by the crowd’s angry voices.
After a few minutes, several rain-soaked protestors were cuffed and tucked into the back of the squads. Four were carried on gurneys to the ambulances.
Once their colleagues were safely stashed, the protestors seemed to calm themselves.
Until the next thing, real or orchestrated, happened to set them off.
Through the storm, Miller lifted his foot from the brake and rolled the big black SUV slowly along the line of waiting vehicles outside the church. The waterfall cascade was faster and harder than any rainfall Kim could remember.
Each vehicle was moving slowly toward the entrance. A line of men in black suits waited to usher the occupants under huge umbrellas to keep them dry until they entered the church.
The wind whipped the umbrellas aside or flipped them inside out, permitting the rain to drench mourners long before they reached the entrance.
When Miller reached the line of black-suited ushers, he braked to a stop and slid the transmission into park.
Johnson opened the passenger door and stepped out of the dry, armored cocoon. One of the black-suited men handed him an open umbrella.
Johnson shook his head and shouted into the wind. “You’ll need those. We’ve got ours.”
He strode around to the cargo door, attacked by the storm all the way to his destination. He slapped the back window with his palm to signal Miller.
Miller pushed the button to release the lock on the back hatch. Johnson bent inside and pulled four umbrellas from the interior.
He returned, opened the first umbrella, and held it for Kim. She stepped from the back seat, over the rushing water in the gutter, and up onto the sidewalk.
She took the wooden shaft from Johnson and moved out of the way, soggy but still dry enough.
He offered the second umbrella to Cooper and tossed the third into the SUV for Miller. Johnson kept the fourth umbrella for himself.
Johnson closed the passenger door and Miller pulled the big SUV away slowly, following the other vehicles toward the parking garage on the back side of the church.
“This way,” Johnson said, after getting directions from one of the ushers.
He led them up the sidewalk to the front entrance.