Firebase Freedom by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

came into the office.
    â€œBoss, we’re pulling out now,” the driver said. “I’m headed for Kansas City, Buck is goin’ to Memphis.”
    â€œAll right,” Sam said. “You two drive safely.”
    â€œHell, that’s no problem,” the driver said.
    â€œThere ain’t one tenth of the traffic on the road now that there used to be.”
    Sam stood in the window and watched as the two drivers climbed into the cabs and started the engines. The rumbling roar of the big diesel engines had a reassuring sound, a sound that connected him with the “before time.” The trucks pulled out of the parking area, but almost immediately after they left, a car drove onto the lot. The car belonged not to the police, but to the SPS, and Sam felt a moment of apprehension.
    His apprehension grew when the two men in the car got out and started toward the office. These weren’t just SPS men, they were Janissaries, and Sam knew that the Janissaries were particularly hostile to Jews. He watched them approach, wondering if he should try and leave through the back door so as to avoid them. He knew, though, that he couldn’t avoid them forever, so he waited, nervously, until they came inside. Though they were wearing identical uniforms, the insignias on their epaulets were different, and Sam could only assume that meant that one was higher in rank than the other—though as he had purposely avoided any study of the SPS or the Janissaries, he had no idea what the ranks were.
    The two men made fists of their right hands, and folded their arms across their chests, putting their fists over their hearts.
    â€œObey Ohmshidi,” one of them said.
    Awkwardly, self-consciously, Sam repeated the gesture. “Obey Ohmshidi,” he said. “May I help you gentlemen?”
    â€œWe’re looking for the Jew that owns this business,” the taller of the two men said. He also seemed to have more hardware on his epaulets, so Sam decided he must be the higher rank.
    â€œI’m Sam Gelbman.”
    â€œGelbman, this is for you.” The tall man handed him an envelope.
    â€œWhat is it?” Sam asked.
    â€œRead it, and comply.” The two men left without a further word, and Sam pulled out the document to read. The first line he read caused him to get an empty sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he walked back over to his desk to sit down and read it more slowly.

    Decree on the Registration of the Property of Jews
    Effective immediately, all Jews are required to value their assets (foreign and domestic) and register them if their value is in excess of 500 Moqaddas. All real estate, to include houses, business buildings, and unimproved land holdings, will be confiscated without compensation. Effective this date, no Jew may enter into a sales contract for any property, as a means of avoiding the requirements of this document. The regulations adopted pursuant to this order shall prohibit all further economic activity of Jews except for such activity as is required to purchase food, those purchases to be made at Moqaddas Sirata– compliant stores only.
    In addition, all Jewish businesses shall be put under government control with the goal of sale to Muslims with a substantial portion of the sale price going to the government.
    Jews may be retained to work in their former businesses, but at a fixed salary, with no profit incentive.

    If he were to be honest with himself, Sam would have to say that this decree didn’t come as a great surprise. The sign in his yard, the graffiti scratched into the side of his car, and the fact that longtime friends, though they didn’t join in with the harassment, were beginning to avoid him, told him all he needed to know about where things were going.
    Sam’s grandfather had been a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps, and Sam remembered, vividly, the ID number stenciled on his uncle’s arm. The Nazis had turned an