Talk:XXII: Surprise Party

XXII: Surprise Party

Despite Hamiltonian claims to the contrary, the Federalist Constitution contained no “checks and balances.” The Executive, the Congress, the Supreme Court, all were tentacles of the same octopus. All received sustenance at the same nipple. All had a single interest in common, power. Look for checks and balances in the marketplace: anyone who hangs out his shingle as a judge and cannot render adjudication satisfactory enough to be paid by those he judges will seek another profession or starve. And that, indeed, is justice.

—Professor Leon Czolgosz

Federalist Fallacies

I don’t think I’ve ever been more depressed. While waiting for Ed’s car to wend its electronic way to us, we examined what the Federalists had left behind: their furnishings, trophies, clothes in the closets—everything except Madison’s tiny silver cups. Yet there were no signs of hasty retreat, no unfinished meals on the table, not even a dirty dish.

Every scrap of paper in the building lay in the wastebaskets, reduced to a fine white ash. They’d been through this before, in a dozen countries, and were good at it. Downstairs was a different story: tangled broken wiring, scarred woodwork, splintered crates—as if they’d made the decision to move at leisure, then gotten hurried halfway through.

“They’re rabbitted, all right.” I told Ed as we surveyed Bealls’s empty workroom. “As soon as he’s set up again, they’ll have their weapons and manpower.”

“The question is, where’s he setting up?”

“Lucy, even if we knew,” I answered bitterly, “how could we do anything about it? You people and your goddamned principles!”

She kicked at an empty carton. “I dunno. Guess I’d rather have my principles shot from under me than finish ’em off myself. We do have two real live witnesses now. We could make kidnapping charges stick this time.”

Clarissa shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Lucy. We never saw any of the real leaders, just Mikva and his two henchmen. Madison was in Gallatinopolis at the time, with several thousand reputable witnesses.”

Swell, I thought. They could set up, pull whole armies through, and no one could stop them until they started initiating force—and by then … “Wait! Madison took off before I finished with Burgess. He still owes me a duel!”

“So what?” Lucy asked. “Nobody has to fight a duel.”

“Yeah, but how would that look to his followers?”

Ed clapped his hands. “By Spooner, that’d throw a spanner into their plans, either way you figure it!”

“It sure would.” I mused for a long time, trying to imagine where I’d be if I were a Federalist. Suddenly I stood up. “Hey—how come I came through that hole in the park?”

“Because,” Ed said patiently, “that was the … the coextant point. The Confederate equivalent of Meiss’s laboratory. I thought you—”

“I do. Now, where are A-bombs going to come from in my world, the middle of Elitch’s Gardens—or U.S. government property of some kind?” I tried sitting on a packing crate, picking up splinters.

“Well, that narrows it down, Winnie, old sleuth. Your government owns only about a third of the United States, after all.”

“Three-quarters of Colorado, Lucy, mostly national parks and such. But it’d have to be somewhere with security, somewhere they normally store the weapons or could hold them safely.”

Ed’s forehead furrowed. “How about the militia?”

I laughed. “SecPol gets along with the Pentagon about as well as it does with local cops! Nice try, though. There’s even a couple of National Guard units in Fort Collins, as I recall.”

Lucy shook her head. “Fort Collins can’t be right. That freighter was heading south, out along the Greenway.”

“Which is why I think Madison’s here in Laporte! If someone’s following you, do you lead them right to your hideout? Look at this. I picked it up trying to find my way around Fort Collins.” The map was grimy and blood-stained. I unfolded it gingerly. In these late, great days of the Republic, you never know when you might want to turn Uncle Irving in for operating an unregistered Xerox machine. One advantage to a police state is that it’s easy to find the police: all maps printed in the Land of the Formerly Free are required to indicate local SecPol offices with a brand new little map symbol, a mailed fist grasping an unsheathed dagger. Yech.

“Here it is, in the center of town. The Post Office, and in the same building, SecPol. All the easier to censor your mail, m’dear. Anyway, find the coextant spot in Laporte, and we’ll find Madison and blow him full of nice juicy holes.”

Ed examined the map. “This won’t do us any good. Where’s Confederation Boulevard? Or Laporte University?”

“I can’t tell you that, Ed,” Clarissa said, over my shoulder. Her breath was warm on my cheek. I liked it a lot. “But I’ll show you the park. Where’s Meiss’s lab, Win?”

“Well, here’s CSU—see the oval drive here? That’s the Sciences Building, and—got a pencil?—right here, I’d say, is the lab.”

“Which tells us where Deejay set up the Broach!” said Clarissa.

“Yeah,” Lucy added. “And that river, the Cache La Poudre, why that’s nothing but piddling little old Slade Creek! Had a plague of a time with the water table when they started building the—”

Ed stood up abruptly. “Okay, folks, we’ve got some computing to do, and I don’t want to be caught here in case Madison comes back for his toothbrush. Besides, I want a bath and out of these filthy clothes!”

“Me, too!” shuddered Clarissa. “Lucy, I’m claiming your hottest tub for the next sixteen hours!”

Lucy grinned. “You’ve got it. Gentlemen, shall we take our leave of this House of Ill Philosophy?”

It was fine with me. I was running short of ammunition.

EVEN IF THE end of the world’s tapping you on the shoulder, sometimes you have to stop and say, “Screw everything-I’m going to bed.” Two days’ self-abuse—pardon the expression—were catching up with me, six G’s twice in one afternoon and a thrilling duel to the death had finished the job.

Back at Genet Place, Clarissa disappeared next door, Ed fell asleep in the bathtub over brandy and cigars, and his frail, elderly neighbor sat, map in hand, punching hell out of the Telecom. I tried to stay awake cleaning my revolver.

It didn’t work. Next thing I knew, it was my shoulder Lucy was punching hell out of. I peered dimly at the ’com pad she shoved under my nose.

“ … this display here? Wake up, youngster, it’s important! The little pulsing dots are Meiss’s lab and the SecPol office, orange and green, respectiv—”

“On a yellow background? Lucy, I’ve been sick already once today!”

“Fooey! Now here’s your Cache La Poudre ‘River,’ and Presto!—Laporte, but with the cursors still showing, everything lined up so the creek still matches, give or take, and it’s ninety-five percent that this here’s the present lurkabouts of Madison’s crew!” She fingered the map where it showed a residential area.

“That’s only four blocks from here! I’ll wake Ed. You get Clarissa! On second thought, leave her out of this. Might be dangerous. Boy I’m glad I cleaned my gun. I—”

“Hold your horsepower, sonny! You’ll wake Ed, all right, and point him toward the sack. Boy’s probably wrinkled up like a prune by now. We ain’t goin’ anyway without some sleep!”

“But Lucy, Madison will—”

“Fooey squared! Uprooting Bealls’s equipment’s gonna slow ’em down plenty. Son, at a hundred and thirty-six, a girl really needs her beauty sleep. Do as I say. We’ll meet at dawn, loaded for revenooers!”

I don’t put up much of a fight. Just getting Ed transferred seemed a major effort. By the time I got to my own room, the whole damn world could have blown up for all I cared.

DARKNESS.

The door opened softly and closed. I reached for the forty-one in a pile of clothing beside the bed.

“Win?” Her gown whispered and I felt weight on the bed.

“Hmm?”

“I’m still cold, Win.” Before I could think of anything clever to say, she was cuddling close beside me. I sighed and laced trembling arms around her, praying I wouldn’t wake up. Together, we breathed a long time in the silence.

“Win, don’t men ever take the initiative where you come from?”

After a while I said, “Most of the time, Clarissa. I just sort of gave up, a long while ago.”

“That’s sad. Why did you do that? Give up, I mean—don’t stop what you’re doing now!”

I didn’t. “Well, you know I was married once. She left, and others, they didn’t stay. Just as well.”

“How—how many others, Win?”

“None of your business, nosy!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry—and that feels good!”

So did she. “Two.”

“Mm?”

“Only two others, Clarissa.”

“And then you gave up trying? At all?”

“You were lying to me—your hands aren’t a bit cold.”

She giggled. “It appears you didn’t give up altogether. All those years—my, what a waste!”

“You exaggerate, dear thing, but thanks for doing it.” Then she was everything at once, firm, soft, heavy, but light in my arms. I began to roll over, but she pushed me back gently.

“Wait a minute—first time never lasts long enough … though I’d say you’re plenty long enough—second time is better.”

The bed jostled. I pulled the covers down so she could breathe. “Clarissa,” I said, blushing in the dark, “you won’t get any warmer down there.”

“You’ll make up for it later. Now hush. I won’t be able to answer for a while.” Waves of shocked pleasure coursed through me; tears in the corners of my eyes. I ran my fingers through her lovely hair, cradled her face in my hands as her head bobbed up and down.

“Great Mer-ci-ful HEAVENS!” The bed bounced briefly again and she laid her cheek on my shoulder. I held her close, trembling once again, tears rolling down my face. A long while later, after I had more than made it up to her, she sat up, kneeling beside me in the dawn light. Her enormous hazel eyes held mine, her strong slender hands were on my shoulders.

“Win, you’ve got to promise me something—”

“I’ll respect you in the morning, honest I will. God, I respect the hell out of you right now!”

“Be serious, idiot!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Win, please never give up again, okay?”

“Never. Not as long as you’re right here to keep me from it.”

“Right here? Don’t be silly. We’ll have to get our own bed, sooner or later.”

“That I can afford,” I laughed. “It’ll have to be a pretty sturdy one.”

“I suppose so. Now I know what they mean by ‘police brutality’!”

“Yeah, but what I mean,” I said, nervous all over again, “it’ll have to last a long time—won’t it?”

“Dearest cuddly Bear, it’ll have to last until our great-great-grandchildren roll us out and bury us! Don’t you realize that yet?”

Thank you. Whoever it is up there, even if you’re not really there, thank you. “I just had to make sure, darling Doctor. It’s a deal, partner. From now on, I’ll blast ’em, and you sew ’em back together. Okay?”

“What about Ed, your other partner?”

“Let him get his own girl!” I sat up and hugged her till she squeaked. “What do y’know—the Hero gets the Girl! Now if we can manage to survive through the last thrilling—”

“Oomph! You got any of that energy left for another? …” She flopped back onto the pillow and I settled beside her, happier, I believe, than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

“Ain’t a matter of energy, lady,” I told her. “It’s a matter, at this point anyway, of inspiration—make that respiration: think you can breathe through your nose for a little while again? I’ll hold the blankets up.”

IT WASN’T QUITE a raid at dawn. Two people forgot to set their alarms: Lucy the indefatigable and efficient, and Win the enormously pleased and exhausted. The ’com started wailing at noon—Lucy’d finally managed to wake up. We ate hastily and girded for battle. Considering everything we’d been through, we were doing great to leave the house at two.

I strapped on my Smith & Wesson, tucked the derringer into what passes for hip pockets, and added the Browning for good measure. I thought about it for a while and added the Bowie knife to my belt.

Lucy had arrived with the mate to her Gabbet Fairfax. One was bad enough, two were even worse. The huge pistols were wearing her instead of the other way around. Still, if SecPol had issued cannons like those to its agents, I’d be looking around for a new arm this morning. Or a new incarnation.

Ed had a spare .375 as I expected, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. He was holding the first two-handed piece I’d seen here, a very, very large-bore Coltomatic, firing clusters of evil-looking fléchettes that could fill an alley full of whistling death at a touch of the trigger. The drum magazine looked a bit cumbersome, but I kept my own counsel. No veteran cop’s going to sneer at a nice, comforting scattergun when there’s rough work to be done.

Clarissa, of course, would not be left behind, and it had been dumb of me to expect otherwise. She stuck sensibly with her everyday Webley, a couple of spare magazines, and, somewhat ominously I felt, a hefty emergency medical kit.

Almost without speaking, Lucy clutching a hard-copied map, our little Doomsday squad went downstairs. Ed climbed into the Neova and fired up the engines. I got in beside him, and the women, occupying somewhat less volume than the pair of us, wedged themselves into what Ed optimistically considered a back seat. We were out of the garage before the Neova’s gull-wing doors were down and locked.

“Let’s see that map, Lucy.” Ed looked back over his shoulder. He was running full fans, and I kept watching for road-company traffic cops. Hate to get busted doing 175 in a 90 zone. He glanced at the printout and took a corner that would have been on two wheels if we’d been using any.

We swayed to a halt across from the target address, leaped out and started up the walk to a single-family dwelling, half the size of my Denver apartment block, painted a pleasant beige over brick. A finely manicured lawn wrapped itself around the usual hedges and shade trees.

Ed motioned silently: Lucy should circle around back. He went for a side entrance, Clarissa and I took the front. Halfway up the curving walk, we dropped into a canter. I gained the doorstep, flattened beside the door, and tried the knob. Open. Clarissa covered a window. I bashed my shoulder against the door, drawing the Smith, snatching the Browning from my armpit. We ducked down a short corridor and to the left, weaving, jumping at shadows. I heard Lucy shout something, Ed crashing the side door, just as we exploded into the living room.

“ALL RIGHT!” I screamed. “FREEZE, YOU—”

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dear …”

“—bastards?” I finished lamely, both pistols pointed from a crouch, Clarissa leveling hers over my shoulder. Ed stared grimly down the barrel of his fléchette gun. Lucy looked like Clint Eastwood in drag. We had ’em covered, dead to rights: about sixteen five-year-olds and their mothers, sitting around a table, birthday cake in the center blazing idiotically away.

I draw a discreet curtain over the ensuing recriminations. To this day, I’m grateful we weren’t a year or two later. Around age six or seven, little Confederates begin acquiring handguns the same way I got my first bike. Let it be said, only, that little Junior Higginbotham, the tyke-of-honor, enjoyed a rather more remunerative birthday than he ever had before. Or was ever likely to again.

In brief, we settled out of court.

AT THE CURB, Ed glowered. “You gonna let me see that map of yours again, or not, Lucy?”

“Don’t look at me!” she replied. “I only did the programming!”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Garbage in, garbage—”

“Now wait a minute, you two! Blame the Fort Collins Chamber of Commerce—that’s where I got the original map. And put that gun away, Lucy, I’m rattled enough already!”

“Chamber of Commerce, my—oh, pshaw!” She holstered her pistol.”Anybody got any ideas before we all become reluctant Hamiltonians?”

“Or radioactive vapor,” Ed reminded, leaning dispiritedly against the hull of his car. “I guess it isn’t Fort Collins SecPol they’re trying to contact, is it?”

“Unless we’ve just been routed by a force of invading midgets. How about it, dear?” Clarissa grinned ruefully. “Any midgets in SecPol?”

“Only mentally, my dear Watkins, only mentally—and we’re giving them stiff competition for the title!”