Jackery was riding with Susan in her cruiser when the recording came on the radio. As the impact of what they were hearing became clear, she slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.
“What the hell was that?” she said.
“The bastard just made his countermove,” he said.
“This Barb character you keep talking about?”
“He’s no character. He’s very fucking real, and somehow he got ahold of a recording I didn’t know existed.”
“That really was your voice?”
“It’s been edited to strip it of context and make it sound sinister,” he said.
“It’s going to sound pretty damn sinister to all my newly appointed deputies,” she said.
The radio crackled to life again. A message from the militia commander filled the car. “All units stand down immediately! I repeat, stick to your fucking assignments. We will look into whatever the hell that just was. In the meantime, maintain your positions. Anyone who abandons their post will be considered insubordinate, and will be dealt with harshly. Until further notice, that is all.”
“Christ,” said Jackery. “What kind of message to the troops was that? That’s just going to add fuel to the fire.”
“We probably should go back and meet this leader,” said Susan. “They’re going to want to hear from you.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when the radio crackled again. “Calling the sheriff,” said the same gruff male voice from the last message. “Come in, Sheriff.”
“This is the sheriff,” she said into her mic.
“Do you have the man with you?”
Susan looked over at Jackery with a small smile. “I do indeed,” she said. “And we’re coming in right now.”
“Affirmative. Report to Commander Fox when you get here.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re on our way.”
The ride back into town was quiet, with Jackery feverishly brainstorming what he could say to quiet the militia leaders. Barbarossa’s little move was a clever piece of psyops, and he cursed the ex-sheriff for keeping a recording of their phone call. As he did, a thought occurred to him.
“Your old boss is working with Barb,” he said. “There’s no other way he could have gotten his hands on that recording otherwise.”
“The man’s locked up tight in the station,” she said.
“Well, he’s somehowmanaging to get word out.”
“Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid, Peter?”
“Yes, I am,” he said with ice in his voice. “And watch your fucking tone. I’ve allowed you a certain familiarity with me due to our physical intimacy, but don’t mistake that for softness on my part. Remember who put you where you are. And who could take it all away just like that.”
He leaned over and snapped his fingers inches from her face. She was appropriately silent for the rest of the drive.
There go those sweet blowjobs, he thought.
#
While the guards were staring at each other and pointing their weapons this way and that, Barb slipped in between Danita and her parents.
“How’d you get back in here without being seen?” said Danita.
“If you think it’s chaos in here, you should see things out there.”
As if to prove her point, the sound of sustained gunfire came from somewhere outside the building. The guards froze, hands on their guns. The prisoners froze as well, plunging the store into sudden silence.
A crackle of static came over the radios, followed by a gruff male voice. The commander’s message echoed through the store, telling everyone to stand down immediately and maintain their positions..
Silence again. An ugly silence, unstable and full of menace. The militia guards in the store looked ready to shoot someone. The townspeople looked mostly confused but also on edge. It felt like violence could break out at any moment.
“You weren’t kidding,” Danita’s father said to her. “That was some bombshell.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“So, what comes now?”
Danita turned to Barb and repeated her father’s question.
“We let them stew,” said Barb.
#
When the sheriff’s car pulled up at the Park-N-Shop lot, Jackery found to his dismay that the heavy equipment lessons were forgotten. Instead, the militia members were milling around like an anthill poked with a stick. Jackery had to give Barb his props. His little stunt with the radio had landed like a cluster bomb, spreading throughout every part of Jackery’s imported army. It would take every ounce of his skill and ingenuity to put the pin back in all the dispersed grenades.
“You ready for this?” said Susan.
“Watch and learn,” he said.
The instant she stopped the car, his door was open, and he was out and striding across the parking lot toward the clump of self-appointed militia commanders. They watched his progress through hard eyes.
“Gentlemen,” he said as he walked up into their space, forcing them to take a step back. “What’s the status?”
“The status is you’ve been holding out on us,” said the most grizzled of the bunch, a man whose hard edge felt real instead of play-acted.
“You mean that pathetic little example of psyops? Don’t tell me you were taken in by it?”
His assertive tone caught them off guard. They were silent for a moment, trying to parse his words and compare them to the audio they’d heard.
“That wasn’t your voice?” said one of them.
“Of course it was,” said Jackery. “I’m not going to deny something so obvious. Let me just point out that what you heard was a recording of a conversation I had with the former sheriff. A recording that was heavily edited to make it sound more significant than it was.”
“A call to the FBI is pretty Goddamn significant,” said the grizzled man.
“A hangup call,” said Jackery.
“An agent reporting in,” said another of the commanders.
“That’s horseshit. All we have is a receptionist’s voice and a caller saying, ‘wrong number.’ What kind of message could that possibly be? That’s what I told the ex-sheriff, a man who, by the way, is sitting locked up in his own jailhouse because he was too much of a pussy to do what needed to be done. Or was he?” Jackery paused, pretending to think. The commanders gave him their full attention as he let the tension build. What if…,” he said, then paused again.
“What if what?” said one of the men.
“I’ve been assuming Westford refrained from taking necessary action because he was too soft. But what if there’s another reason?”
“Like what?”
“Did you happen to notice he was the one who brought up the topic of an FBI informant? You heard him. He came up with it out of the blue.”
Come on, he thought. I’ve given you the pieces. All you have to do is put them together.
“What if it was a guilty conscience?” said one of the men.
“Or reverse psychology,” said another.
“You’re thinking he could be the informant?” said Jackery. “It would explain a lot of things. For example, he was the one who made that recording; he’s the only one who knew it existed; and he’s the only one with a copy. How could it get out if he didn’t put it out?”
“He wants us all chasing our tails, looking for a traitor when he’s been the traitor all along,” said the oldest of the men, the only one who hadn’t spoken before.
“You really think so, Judge?” said another of them.
“Why the hell not? The fucking feds put out lies and disinformation like it’s the air they breathe. You know they set up January 6.”
“Of course. Everybody knows that.”
Jackery needed them to focus. They were so close to where he needed them to get. Just one more step to go. He could take that step for them if need be, but it would be much better if they did it on their own. He chose to try a little nudge.
“So, he was supposed to be one of us, but he was working for our enemy?”
“There’s a word for that,” said the grizzled man. “Treason.”
Bingo.
Now he could step back and let them carry things the rest of the way. He’d successfully taken the bull’s-eye off his own back and slapped it on someone else’s. And he’d done it in the space of five minutes. Sometimes he surprised even himself.
“Slick,” came a feminine voice from just behind him. He turned his head to see Susan standing a couple of feet away. “Pointing a finger at the man we’ve got locked up with no access to a radio,” she continued.
“Never let the facts get in the way of a good story,” he said to her. A sudden thought struck him. “You’re not recording me, are you?”
“You want to ststrip-searche later?” she said with a leer.
Maybe those sweet blowjobs weren’t gone after all.
#
Barb rested, leaning back against the dairy case. Cold air drifted down the back of her neck in the most pleasant way, like crisp little fingers dancing on her shoulders. She had just closed her eyes when a hubbub came from the front of the store. She opened her eyes to see a clump of militia members heading down the aisle. They stopped about twenty feet from her and separated just enough for her to see a figure in their midst.
It was none other than Julian, calm as always—even with his hands cuffed behind his back.
A militia member Barb recognized as one of the leaders approached the clump.
“What do we got here?” he said.
“We stopped this asshole on his way into town,” said one of the members surrounding Julian.
“He was driving this fancy-ass foreign car,” said another.
“Hey,” came a voice Barb recognized. “I know this guy.” Snake, the older skinhead brother from the Sanchez house, walked up to the group. “It’s the asshole lawyer from the house I’m guarding,” he said.
“So what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Asshole Lawyer?” said the leader, getting up in Julian’s face.
“I’m here representing my client.” Julian used his chin to gesture in Barb’s direction.
The militia members all turned as one. Barb gave them a little smile and a wave.
“That’s the whiny bitch from my house,” said Snake. “What the fuck does she need a lawyer for?”
“Everyone deserves representation,” said Julian.
“Lawyers got my kid taken away,” said a militia member.
“I paid one of them five grand, and my fucking wife still got the house,” said another.
“I say we take him out back and shoot him,” said yet another.
“It’s a tempting idea,” said the leader. “But our standing orders are no killing unless absolutely necessary.”
“Should we lock him in back with the other troublemakers?”
“How about it, old man?” said the leader to Julian. “Are you going to cause me any trouble?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Julian.
“All right. I’ll release you for now. But I’ve got my eye on you.”
He uncuffed Julian who rubbed his wrists and then ambled back to the cooler where Barb was sitting. She made room for him, and he plopped down next to her.
“What brings you back my way?” she said. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”
“I tried calling last night, but it didn’t go through. Then I tried the Sanchez house and the Walker house, and I realized they’d cut off all communication. That told me things were escalating fast.”
“I’m afraid we’ve moved past the point where your legal skills can be of any help,” she said. “So, unless you brought a bomb…”
“I brought something better.” He casually reached into his pocket and came out with a small device that fit comfortably in his hand. It had a tiny screen as well as a miniature keyboard and a stubby antenna.
“A walkie-talkie?”
He shook his head. “Satellite phone. Doesn’t depend on cell towers. I brought a spare for you.” Looking carefully to make sure none of the militia members were watching, he slipped it into her hand.
“Trust you to know the perfect gift for every occasion.”
#
As Jackery and Susan watched, the commanders dispersed and went from man to man in the parking lot. Each man they reached headed toward the center of the lot.
What the fuck?
This was not what Jackery needed. He strode to the grizzled commander, intercepting him on his way to another of his men.
“What’s going on?” said Jackery. “Why aren’t you putting them back to work?”
“Got a traitor in our midst,” said the man. “Can’t let that stand.”
This was not the plan. The plan required swift action. Every minute not devoted to carrying it out was another opportunity for something to go wrong.
“We need to get everybody back to work. Once the job’s finished, then we can deal with him.”
“We’re dealing with him now.”
“How long will that take?”
“Got to give the man a fair trial. Judge Berger used to be a real one before he retired.”
“A trial? There’s no time for that.”
“Judge runs a tight ship. From swearing in to carrying out the sentence shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
#
The radios in the grocery store all crackled to life again. The voice that followed was low and somewhat garbled so that Barb couldn’t understand what it said. She leaned over to Danita.
“Did you get that?”
“No.” Danita stood and walked carefully over to Toby. After a short conversation, she returned to the dairy case, sitting next to Barb and speaking in a low voice.
“They’re going to hold a trial in the parking lot. Everyone who’s not on guard duty in here is going to watch.”
Julian opened his eyes. “A trial?” he said. “Who’s the defendant?”
“The announcement didn’t say.”
“Could it be Jackery?” said Danita.
“If so, things are moving faster than I planned,” said Barb.
“Who else could it be?”
“Fuck me,” said Barb, realization dawning. “Jackery must have found a way to make the sheriff the scapegoat.”
“Did your friend say what the supposed charges were?” said Julian to Danita.
“Treason.”
Julian turned to Barb. “You’d better come up with a way to shut this down—and fast.”
“Why?” said Danita.
“The penalty for treason is death.”