Ben figured they were only a few seconds from a wild shoot-out, but the man who opened the back door did not see them. He stood for a moment, framed in the dim light, until a woman's voice called out.

  "Shut the damn door, Marsh," she said in a commanding voice. "Are you crazy?"

  "Hell, Barbara, there's no one out here," Marsh replied.

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  "There isn't one chance in a million any damn Rebel will show up after that bitch."

  "Don't be so damn sure of that, Marsh. Now get your ass back in here, pronto."

  "All right, all right," Marsh said irritably. "Keep your pants on."

  "Oh, don't worry about that, I will," Barbara said with a laugh.

  Marsh turned and started back inside.

  Beside him, Sandi waited just a couple of seconds before she started to lunge to her feet. Ben stuck the muzzle of the 9mm spitter in her ribs.

  "Don't do it," he whispered. "You waited just a heartbeat too long."

  She hesitated, and then Ben heard her open her mouth and suck in air to yell just as the door closed behind Marsh with a solid sound.

  "Relax," Ben told her. "It's a little late for yelling, don't you think?

  You said it yourself-the building is soundproofed."

  "You son of a bitch!" she hissed at him. "You won't get out of here alive."

  "Maybe not, but neither will you."

  He felt her relax. "How did you-" She bit off the remaining words.

  "I've suspected all along. It was a really clumsy approach back at the motel. Very amateurish of you."

  "Now what? You going to kill me in cold blood?"

  "Why not? That's exactly what you were going to do to me, isn't it?"

  "Only if you resisted."

  Ben chuckled softly. "And you think I wouldn't have? How much reward has Madame President put on my head?"

  "How-"Again she bit back the words. Then she hissed, "You bastard."

  "A guess. Just a very educated guess. Get up and walk back to the car."

  "And if I don't?"

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  "I'll kill you right where you lie."

  "I don't think you will, Ben. I don't think you can kill in cold blood."

  "Then you don't know me very well, Sandi. I would advise you not to push your luck."

  She looked at him in the very dim light from the street lamps that reached the rear of the warehouse. "You're bluffing, Ben. That's all."

  "I seldom bluff."

  "Maybe this is one of those times."

  "It isn't, Sandi."

  "Help!" she suddenly yelled, jumping to her feet. "It's Ben Raines. In the parking lot. In the rear-"

  Ben shot her.

  The only sound was the rapid working of the bolt on the lethal little spitter. Sandi fell face forward on the gravel. She trembled once, then was still.

  "Stupid," Ben muttered. "Just plain stupid."

  Ben got to his feet and looked around him. Her yelling had not attracted any attention that he could detect. This was mostly a warehouse district, with only a couple of small convenience stores, farther on up the block. There were some cars and pickup trucks parked in front of the stores, but he could see no one in the parking area of either store.

  "Lucked out again, Raines," he muttered.

  Ben walked leisurely toward the rear of the warehouse. He knew that a running figure attracted more attention than a person just strolling along.

  A couple of trucks, big rigs, rumbled past on the street in front of the warehouse. A car drove along slowly. Ben could hear the radio playing loudly. A talk show commentator was running his mouth and flapping his gums about something, arguing hotly with somebody. Ben picked up a few sentences before the car drove out of hearing range.

  "It's communist, that's what it is!" a woman said. "America has turned communistic. I saw this coming years ago. And you're a damn communist!"

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  "Madame, I am a registered Democrat!" the talk show host angrily replied.

  Ben couldn't hear the woman's reply to that, but he could just about guess what it was, and that made him smile.

  He reached the raised platform at the back door and stepped up on it. He took several deep breaths and tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  Saying a short prayer to the Almighty that Anna was in the building and all right, Ben kicked the door open and stepped inside.

  "Knock, knock," he said to the group of men and women sitting at a long, folding type table.

  They all reached for guns.

  Ben opened fire.

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  Chapter Seventeen

  The first burst from Ben's spitter knocked the man called Marsh backward, the front of his shirt bloody and pockmarked. Ben jumped to one side just as another man leveled an auto-loader in his direction and pulled the trigger. As Ben was hitting the floor he gave the group half a magazine of 9mm rounds. The man throwing lead at him with the big semi-auto went down, several of Ben's rounds taking him in the throat and face.

  "Kill the son of a bitch!" Barbara screamed, ducking behind a filing cabinet.

  "It's a million bucks if we take him alive!" Ben heard a man shout.

  "Hell, it's a million bucks if we kill him!" another shouted.

  Ben rolled to one side and leveled his spitter. He figured he had about twelve to fifteen rounds left in the magazine. He let the weapon rock and roll, silently praying it would not jam up on him.

  Two men went down, cussing him as they died. Ben quickly ejected the empty and slipped in a full mag as the room fell silent.

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  Barbara's pistol jammed on her, and she screamed in rage and hurled the weapon at him. Ben ducked and closed the distance between them, sticking the muzzle of the spitter in the woman's face. She abruptly closed her mouth, her eyes widening in momentary fright.

  "Anna," Ben said. "Where is she?"

  "She isn't here. See for yourself."

  "Where is she?"

  "You'll never get that information from me, Raines!" she sneered at him.

  "Oh, I'll bet I do, lady." Ben hit her with a big fist that turned her lights out. She dropped to the floor in a slackened heap.

  Ben quickly checked the living quarters. Nothing, and no sign that Anna had ever been there.

  Two of the FPPS agents were dead, two more were dying. Ben grabbed up a set of handcuffs from the table and quickly secured Barbara. He ignored the wounded men and picked up Barbara, slinging her over one shoulder and headed out the back door to his car.

  Using duct tape from an emergency roadside kit, he taped her mouth, dumped her in the trunk (she damn sure was no lightweight) and quickly headed out. He kept his speed down to the legal limit as several unmarked FPPS cars, dash-mounted red lights flashing, roared past him in the other lane, heading for the warehouse. Somebody had reported the sound of shooting.

  Ben did not return to the motel. He had already memorized a way out of the city, using Sandi's map. Fifteen minutes later, he drove past the city limits sign on the east side of the capital and cut down a blacktop road, staying on it for several miles. Then he cut north on another road. He drove it until he found the ruins of a ramshackle old farmhouse. He cut down the gravel driveway and tucked the car in close to the rear of the old house.

  Ben opened the trunk and jerked the woman out, dumping her on the ground on her butt. She grunted through the tape as her ass impacted with the hard ground.

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  Ben dragged her up the steps, through the back porch, and into what had once been the kitchen. He righted an old chair and then ripped the clothing from the woman, leaving her naked. Using the roll of duct tape, he secured her to the chair and then ripped the tape from her mouth and stepped back.

  "Now you listen to me, lady," Ben said. "I don't have chemicals to make this easy on you." He pulled a very sharp, lock-back folding knife from his back pocket and showed it to her in the faint light. "I can guarantee you more pain than you have ever experienced in your life. I don't want to have to do this, but I will. I want my kid, and I want her right now. It's all up to you."

  "Fuck you, Raines. I don't think you'll do it."

  "Then that makes you a fool."

  It was messy, but it didn't take all that long. She had told Ben where Anna was being held, and the pain had been intense enough to guarantee she wasn't lying. The woman wasn't that hurt or disfigured but she was in a lot of pain, and most of the bluff and bluster had been taken out of her. She slumped naked in the old rickety chair, weeping as the sweat glistened on her body-sweat mixed with blood. She had also pissed on herself.

  "Damn you to hell!" Barbara gasped the words at him. "You're a monster!"

  "Just a man who wants his kid back."

  "I hope you're captured and hanged, Raines. I hope they leave your body dangling from the gallows until it rots!"

  "I wish you well, too, Barbara."

  "Fuck you, Raines, you ... you goddamn Republican!"

  Ben had to lean against the old kitchen counter and laugh at her words.

  The more he chuckled the angrier the woman became, some of her bluster returning.

  "Your kingdom won't last much longer. In a few months the SUSA will be history. Destroyed!"

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  "Oh, I rather doubt that. That's just another wild-eyed, democrat socialist pipe dream."

  She hissed and spat at him, some of the spittle dribbling down her chin.

  "How ladylike of you, Barbara."

  She cursed him until she was out of breath.

  "Are you quite through, now?"

  "I hope your kid's been gangbanged, Raines. Shagged front and back. I hope she's been forced to suck the cock of every agent that's guarding her."

  Ben sighed and shook his head in the darkness, wondering how much hate one person could have-and why. Why did these dedicated followers of Millard and Osterman hate the SUSA so intensely?

  "Why do you people hate the SUSA so much? That baffles me."

  She cursed and spat at him until she was bug-eyed and panting for breath.

  "What's the matter, can't you tell me? Can't you give me a valid reason?"

  "You've destroyed the Constitution and The Bill of Rights, Raines.

  That's why."

  Ben stared at her, unbelieving, in the dim light. "We've destroyed The Constitution and The Bill of Rights? I can't believe I'm hearing those words from you, from a damned socialist."

  "We do what is best for the people. The people don't always know what is good for them. They have to be shown. That's government's job."

  "Well, there is a lot more to it than that. But the sad thing is, you really believe that crap."

  She began babbling the party line, right out of the writings of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. Ben listened for a few seconds before waving the woman silent.

  "Enough, lady. Good God, be quiet. You're giving me a headache. Besides, I don't have time for all that socialistic shit. You should be able to get yourself free in a few hours, if you work real hard at it. Seeing you wandering around

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  naked ought to give some man a real thrill; I'm sure some dedicated and true blue democrat socialist will stop and help you. However, if that doesn't please you, there is another option-I can always just shoot you right here and now. That certainly would uncomplicate matters for me.

  The choice is yours."

  Barbara closed her mouth and kept it closed. She had discovered-quite painfully-that Ben Raines would do exactly what he said he would do. She sat silently and glared wild hate at Ben.

  "No comment?"

  "I would like to live, General," she said.

  "Wise choice. I commend you. All right. Don't go anywhere." He chuckled at the sudden expression on the face of the trussed-up woman. "I'll be right back. You can entertain yourself while I'm gone by reciting the words of Karl Marx or Sugar Babe Osterman."

  Ben returned a few minutes later with a small first aid kit and placed it on the table he had shoved out of the way before he went to work on the woman. "There're iodine, bandages, tape, and aspirin in there, along with some other items. When you get free you can doctor yourself. What's left of your clothing is on the back porch. OK?"

  She stared at him, not believing what she was hearing. ?First you cut me, now you provide me with first aid materials. What the hell kind of man are you, Raines?"

  "Well, lady, I guess you could say I'm what used to be known as a Tri-Stater. Back before your wonderful government crushed the movement... for a little while, that is."

  "I've heard that term before. I don't know exactly what it means."

  "I don't have time to explain it now. You just work at getting yourself free. Let's hope we'll never see each other again."

  "That would suit me just fine, Raines."

  "I just bet it would. But... a few stitches and a couple of day's rest and you'll be fine. Then you'll start hunting me, 190

  revenge on your mind. I hope you won't find me, for if you do, I'll kill you. Keep that in mind."

  Ben turned and walked out of the old house. He got in his car and drove away. He knew where Anna was being held-at least up to the time he'd grabbed Barbara. He felt sure they would have moved her by now.

  But he'd find her. Sooner or later. And if she had been harmed or was dead-he had to consider that possibility- he would see that the government of Osterman and Millard was destroyed ... forever.

  "Any word from Ben?" Cecil asked.

  "Not directly," the officer in charge of that section of communications replied. "But we intercepted a message from the capital concerning a wild shoot-out at one of their safe houses and the kidnapping of a senior member of the FPPS."

  "That's Ben. He's OK, and on the warpath. How many FPPS agents were killed?"

  "Five."

  Cecil smiled. "You watch the toll start to climb now. Ben is just beginning to get wound up. Any mention of Anna?"

  "No, sir. Not a word."

  "If one hair on that girl's head is out of place, Ben will start killing every member of Osterman's cabinet and inner circle he can get into gunsights."

  "Yes, sir. You can count on that."

  Cecil left the communications room attached to the SUSA's capital building in Base Camp One and stopped to chat with Ben's team, who were standing out in the hall. Colonel Buddy Raines, Ben's son, was standing with them.

  "There isn't much I can tell you, gang," he said. "Ben's alive and kicking some socialist ass. That's about it."

  "Mister President," Buddy said. "I have a question, if I may be permitted." He always addressed Cecil formally when around others.

  Alone, it was "Uncle Cece," which caused some raised eyebrows when those unfamiliar with

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  the relationship were nearby. Buddy was white and Cecil was black. Ben always found that amusing. "I have studied socialism thoroughly, and what is being practiced outside our borders is not pure socialism.

  Exactly, what is it?"

  Cecil laughed, not at Buddy but at his seriousness. Buddy was a very serious young man, and highly intelligent. Cecil also knew he would not take the laughter the wrong way. "Bud, you're right. It isn't pure socialism. But it's so close to socialism that's how we refer to it.

  It's, well, Big Brother-ism, I guess you could call it."

  "It's a very unappealing form of government," Buddy replied.

  "It sucks," Jersey said.

  Buddy looked at her and blinked a couple of times. "Well, yes. I suppose that might be one of the cruder ways of describing it. But I cannot envision President Jefferys lecturing a high school civics class and describing the USA's form of government as one that 'sucks.' "

  Cecil smiled. "Perhaps not, Bud. But that pretty well sums it up. Look, gang, if I hear anything about Ben you people will be the first to know, OK?"

  Cecil nodded his head to a chorus of "Yes, sirs," and walked off up the hallway, his security people ahead and behind him. He did not appear to be overly worried about his longtime friend, but Buddy and Ben's team knew that was an act. Cecil was plenty worried, and Ben was just a part of why. Federal troops were being moved into staging areas about a hundred miles north of the borders of the SUSA, and war was imminent. Of the five stages of alert, one through five, the SUSA was at four.

  Factories were working around the clock producing weapons, ammo, uniforms, canned foods, medical supplies, and all the hundreds of other things-large and small-needed for war.

  Cecil had abruptly canceled the planned rescue of President Altman.

  Buddy and his special ops people were needed here in the SUSA.

  Watching Cecil walk away, Cooper, Ben's driver, said, 192

  "Colonel, we'd appreciate a bump if you hear anything about your father."

  "You know I will, Cooper," Buddy replied. "But all we can do now is pray."

  "You'd better pray for the souls of the FPPS people holding Anna," Beth, the team's statistician remarked. " 'Cause if they get in the Boss's way, they're dead."

  Ben knew there was little point in heading for the safe house Barbara had told him about. The FPPS would have moved Anna the instant they learned Barbara had been taken.

  Barbara had told him about other safe houses, as had Sandi. He felt sure the places Sandi had told him about would be nothing more than set ups, with dozens of FPPS agents waiting for him to show.

  Ben drove for more than an hour, staying on the back roads, until coming to an abandoned grain elevator with a small open-front storage shed in the rear. He backed the car into the shed and parked. He would grab some sleep and resume the hunt in a few hours. Barbara would get free of the heavy tape that bound her, but it would take hours for her to do so, and another several hours for her to hike out of that area.

  Half naked, Ben thought with a smile.

  Ben knew he could not continue driving his sedan. Sandi would have called vehicle description and license number in first thing. So he had to ditch this car and get another. But the car had served its initial purpose: it had gotten him and his gear across the border and into enemy territory.

  Ben yawned as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He would worry about the small stuff when he woke up. Now, he needed sleep.

  He awakened just a few minutes before the first touches of silver tinted the eastern sky. He closed his hand around the butt of his pistol and then sat in the car for a moment before moving anything but his eyes. He could neither

 

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