Die Trying by Lee Child

Johnson stared at him.

“Normal?” he said.

Webster nodded.

This is normal,” he said. “We got these militia groups all over the

country, which is why we can’t cover them all. Too damn many. Our

last count was way over four hundred groups, all fifty states. Most of

them are just amateur wackos, but some of them we consider pretty

serious antigovernment terrorists.”

This bunch?” Johnson asked.

McGrath looked at him.

This bunch is totally serious,” he said. “One hundred people, hidden

out in the forest. Very well armed, very well organized, very

self-contained. Very well funded, too. Jackson has reported mail

fraud, phony bank drafts, a little low-grade counterfeiting. Probably

armed robbery as well. The feeling is they stole twenty million bucks

in bearer bonds, armored car heist up in the north of California. And,

of course, they’re selling videos and books and manuals to the rest of

the wackos, mail-order. Big boom industry right now. And naturally

they decline to pay income tax or license their vehicles or anything

else that might cost them anything.”

“Effectively, they control Yorke County,” Webster said.

“How is that possible?” Johnson asked.

“Because nobody else does,” Webster said. “You ever been up there? I

haven’t. Jackson says the whole place is abandoned. Everything pulled

out, a long time ago. He says there’s just a couple dozen citizens

still around, spread out over miles of empty territory, bankrupt

ranchers, leftover miners, old folk. No effective county government.

Borken just eased his way in and took it over.”

“He’s calling it an experiment,” McGrath said. “A prototype for a

brand-new nation.”

Johnson nodded, blankly.

“But what about Holly?” he said.

Webster stacked the paper and laid his hand on it.

“He doesn’t mention her,” he said. “His last call was Monday, the day

she was grabbed up. They were building a prison. We have to assume it

was for her.”

“This guy calls in?” Brogan said. “By radio?”

Webster nodded.

“He’s got a transmitter concealed in the forest,” he said. “He wanders

off when he can, calls in. That’s why it’s all so erratic. He’s been

averaging one call a week. He’s pretty inexperienced and he’s been

told to be cautious. We assume he’s under surveillance. Brave new

world up there, that’s for damn sure.”

“Can we call him?” Milosevic asked.

“You’re kidding,” Webster said. “We just sit and wait.”

“Who does he report to?” Brogan asked.

“Resident agent at Butte, Montana,” Webster said.

“So what do we do?” Johnson asked.

Webster shrugged. The room went quiet.

“Right now, nothing,” he said. “We need a position.”

The room stayed quiet and Webster just looked hard at Johnson. It was

a look between one government man and another and it said: you know how

it is. Johnson stared back for a long time, expressionless. Then his

head moved through a fractional nod. Just enough to say: for the

moment, I know how it is.

Johnson’s aide coughed into the silence.

“We’ve got missiles north of Yorke,” he said. They’re moving south

right now, on their way back here. Twenty grunts, a hundred Stingers,

five trucks. They’ll be heading straight through Yorke, any time now.

Can we use them?”

Brogan shook his head.

“Against the law,” he said. “Military can’t participate in law

enforcement.”

Webster ignored him and glanced at Johnson and waited. They were his

men, and Holly was his daughter. The answer was better coming straight

from him. There was a silence, and then Johnson shook his head.

99C;

“No,” he said. “We need time to plan.”

The aide spread his hands wide.

“We can plan,” he said. “We’ve got radio contact, ground-to-ground. We

should go for it, General.”

“Against the law,” Brogan said again.

Johnson made no reply. He was thinking hard. McGrath riffed through

the pile of paper and pulled the sheet about the dynamite packing

Holly’s prison walls. He held it face down on the shiny table. But

Johnson shook his head again.

“No,” he said again. “Twenty men against a hundred? They’re not front

line troops. They’re not infantry. And their Stingers won’t help us.

I assume these terrorists don’t have an air force, right? No, we wait.

Bring the missile unit right back here, fastest. No engagement.”