Don Pendleton - Civil War II by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page A

them up. No more killing than absolutely necessary. We want to shock them. We want them to be frightened. But we do not want them all dead. We want them to be helpless, to be at our mercy, and to know that they are."
    "Yes, I think that's pretty well understood," Bogan murmured.
    "Okay. Uh, Colonel Danniger ... would you care to give us a quick scan over the hinterland section."
    "Yes, sir." The militiaman rose halfway out of his chair and turned about to address the junior officers. "As a quick scan ... the first wave from Warhole covers Bay Area targets only. Then the copters return directly to Warhole and embark the hinterland elements. The second wave will place Oakland Rifles and Armor Brigades in a fan-shaped pattern from Redding to the north to Sacramento east. The third wave covers the coastal area between Eureka and Sausalito. Succeeding waves will blanket our part of the state from San Luis Obispo up."
    "Thank you, Sam," Williams said. "That's it, gentlemen. Needless to say, every place that's worth it in California—and every other state on the mainland—will know what Phase Two means by early tomorrow morning. All eyes, of course, will be on us, here in California, because we have the only three Phase Three cities. So let's follow the battle order. And ... for God's sake, let's watch it. We don't want to destroy this country. It's our country too, you know. And this is probably our very last chance, the final forlorn hope for tomorrow for the American Negro. We've tried everything else, and none of it worked.
    We tried humility, and they walked on us. We tried passive resistance, and they terrorized us. We tried the courts, and they weaseled us. We tried economic power, and they cheated us. We tried local violence, and they crushed us. So now we have to try open warfare. We have to try it. We could fail, you know. Let's make it work. I consign our fate to your hands, gentlemen. God stand strong in your presence, my friends. God ride with you all the way."
    Williams marched out of the room without a backward glance. The older ones would understand, but he did not want those young men to see the moisture in his eyes. To the young, leaders never cry.
    Immersed in his thoughts, he went directly to the old press box, high atop the Warhole, bit off the end of a cigar, and looked out upon the grimy inheritance of Black America. "Not my people," he murmured. "Thy people, Father. Let this cup pass from my lips. Dear God, take away the cup." But he knew the cup would not budge. There was no place for it to go. Abe Williams was stuck with it. His eyes swept toward the bay. Yes, and San Francisco was stuck with it also.
    CHAPTER 7

    Winston had been to the Pentagon and to the Bureau of National Labor Standards—and now, he was positive, he'd picked up a. couple of shadows somewhere along the way. A picture had begun to definitely focus in his mind back there at the Pentagon—nothing definitive exactly—but a fuzzy image crawling with all sorts of wild possibilities and insane conclusions. He had been trying like hell to shrug it all away when he became aware of the tail. Two guys, young, impeccably dressed, and doing their job with such skill that only another pro would have spotted them. But dammit they were there. And now Winston was wanting in the worst way to know why they were there.
    With his two shadows, he hopped the hover jitney to Capitol Hill, knowing that congress was not in session but hoping nevertheless to run into someone from the Senate Aimed Forces Committee. He found there nothing but an army of white tourists being led around by black guides, then he and his shadows took another jitney to the new Senate Office Building in Takoma Park. Here he located a senate aide who laughed nervously at every mention of mothballed war machines but professed complete ignorance of the subject.
    After some ten minutes of parry-thrust learn-nothing
    conversation, Winston stuck a cigarette between his lips and asked the