“Purveyors of political correctness will, in the final analysis, not even allow others their judgments... They celebrate “difference,” but they will not allow people truly to be different―to think differently, and to say what they think.”
Pops Younger and Zach Turner waited in Governor Brahman’s office for fifteen minutes. Pops never sat down in one of the big burnt-orange, oversized leather stuffed chairs or couch. Pops stood in front of the framed 1789 flag, contemplating it, almost paying homage to the events it represented.
“It’s my first time to see it,” said Zach as he walked over to stand next to Pops. “Amanda Flores was a hero. So was Chuck Dixon. I’m just in awe to be standing near it.”
“Damn near brings me to tears every time I’m in here to see the gov. I’m going to tell him this needs to be displayed where more Texans can see it.”
“It’s probably all the dried-up blood on the flag that keeps it from being displayed publicly. We’ll have to ask the governor,” said Zach.
“Damned folks oughta see it takes blood to maintain liberty,” shot back Pops. “Those folks gave their lives for a non-binding referendum.”
“I wonder what they would do today if they knew what we know?” Zach thought out loud.
“Same thing; just wouldn’t be a non-binding vote. Wouldn’t be a damn thing symbolic about it. It would be the real deal,” said Pops.
“Do you think that’s where this is headed?” asked Zach.
Before Pops could answer, Governor Brahman, Lieutenant Governor Tommy Wilson, and Texas Attorney General Bradley Drummond came through the door. They all walked over to the large conference table on the other side of the office and took seats.
“Dang it, Pops. I’m so sorry we kept you waiting,” apologized the governor, who knew Pops would never keep him waiting if the roles were reversed. “This damned IRS thing is outta control. I understand they went after you, too.” The governor peered at Pops quizzically.
“Damned straight. I got suits all over the damned place trying to clean this mess up. They’re after all of us, it seems,” answered Pops.
“Let’s get settled in here, gentlemen. I’m almost hesitant to ask about the details of your request to meet, Pops. I can only remember one other time you said something was urgent, and it wasn’t good news.”
“No, Smitty, it wasn’t,” Pops responded.
“Pops called me the night the governor and his wife were killed. Dark days, very dark days.” The governor loosened his tie.
“Sir, I think you know Zach Turner.” Pops motioned to Zach.
“Yes, we’ve met on a few occasions. Nice to see you again, Zach. Let me introduce Lieutenant Governor Tommy Wilson and Attorney General Bradley Drummond.
After the introductions, Governor Brahman turned to Pops. “Okay, Pops, let me have it. What news do you have?”
“Sir, Zach here brought me a bunch of evidence that him and his boys have been gathering…”
“His boys?” asked Drummond. “Excuse me, everyone, but maybe I’m not up to speed on Mr. Turner and his organization. Can you enlighten me, Mr. Turner, so that I can put whatever you tell us about into some kind of context?”
“Sure. First, I’m former Special Forces, Navy Seal to be exact. After thirteen years, I was recruited by the CIA and went to work for them as an operative. About five years ago, I left the agency due to what I would describe as irreconcilable philosophical differences. I came back to my hometown in Katy, Texas and founded a corporate security firm.” Zach took a look around at the other men, then continued, “I also started an organization called Free Texas, which focuses on issues concerning Texas’ sovereignty and adherence to the Constitution.”
“So, you’re a militia?” asked Drummond.
“That’s a fairly broad term,” Zach stated. “Let’s just say we have a network of like-minded individuals who maintain preparedness for any kind of disaster, natural or political.”
“How many in your group are ex-CIA?” asked Drummond.
“I’m not at liberty to say, sir,” replied Zach, making sure he didn’t tell them he had his own people still embedded at the CIA.
“If Pops vouches for this man, he’s my friend, too,” Brahman said flatly. “Can you describe this evidence Pops was referring to when he called me?” He looked over at Zach.
“With all due respect, sir, this information is highly sensitive and, if it gets in the wrong hands, could have dire consequences. It would be my preference, sir, with no disrespect to either the lieutenant governor or the attorney general, if you, Pops, and I discussed the nature of the data I have before we decide to share it with others.”
“I understand, but I do want you to know I trust these two gentlemen as well.”
“I’m sure you do, sir,” smiled Zach. “And I mean no disrespect at all, but can we present it to you before we decide who else needs to know?” asked Zach.
The body language of the other two officials changed noticeably. Who in the heck was this guy, telling the governor who the information could or could not be shared with?
“Pops, you’ve seen this information. Your call,” deferred the governor.
“When you see this, Smitty, you will likely want these folks involved sooner than later but, since this young man and his team risked their butts to get this info, I say we respect his wishes,” advised Pops.
“Gentlemen,” the governor said, looking at Wilson and Drummond as they began to get up. “We will get back to you soon. Thank you for coming in.”
Wilson and Drummond excused themselves and left the room, displeasure and disapproval following in their wake. They were not happy.
Once they settled back at the table, Zach asked if it was okay if he brought Beard and Will into the meeting. The governor, at first hesitant after dismissing his top two state officials, agreed to bring Zach’s colleagues in to present the information.
For the next two hours, the trio from Free Texas led the governor through the same evidence presented to Pops. For the most part, Pops didn’t add anything to the conversation unless asked. The governor lit a cigar, but was so engrossed in the information that he never smoked it, and it went out on its own sitting in the large ashtray.
“My God, I knew we had some serious problems in the federal government, but this is beyond the pale. What we could be seeing here is our Republic in its final death throes. What in the hell do we do with this?” asked the governor.
“It should be as clear as the Guadalupe River what the hell these IRS dipshits are up to,” said Pops.
“Crystal,” replied Zach. “It’s their stock in trade. It’s called intimidation, and they are doing it to those who voted for the referendum.”
“Chief Justice Noyner and that poor State Senator Milsap and his family. Damn.”
“Smitty, this reference to Madison really has the hairs up on my neck. Hard to imagine they are cookin’ up somethin’ worse, but these damned folk are downright evil. My gut tells me it has something to do with your called session.”
Beard had been sitting silently listening to Pops, the governor and Zach, only answering questions as they came up.
“Madison. Of course…” said Beard thoughtfully.
Everyone stopped talking and focused on Beard.
“What? You figured out their next operation?” asked Zach.
“Not exactly, but I have a hunch,” explained Beard.
“What do you have?” asked Will, now curious himself.
“Yes, do tell. Even a hunch at this point is more than anything else we have,” said the governor.
“James Madison,” replied Beard.
“The Founder?” asked the governor. “Okay, what could it mean?”
“It’s only a hunch,” Beard reiterated.
Everyone just sat looking at Beard for a few seconds, trying to connect the dots.
“Oh, my God. Of course!” exclaimed Will.
“Damn it!” cursed Zach.
“What? What does it mean?” pressed Governor Brahman.
“James Madison is the author of the 2nd Amendment,” stated Beard.