"God in Heaven," muttered the short Tejano, "I hope we never have to do anything like this again."
* * *
Convention Center, Virginia Beach, Virginia
"Please don't ask me to do anything like this again, Juani," pleaded Jack as he walked by her side down the long aisle between cheering—and a few scowling—attendees at the convention.
It was the off season; hotel space was plentiful, the convention center unbooked. Transportation by air and ground was easy. Moreover, the U.S. Army's own "Transportation Center," at Fort Eustis, was nearby to assist and coordinate, as was Oceana Naval Air Station and Norfolk Navy Base. And, given how much the Armed Forces were looking forward to the expected changes from the convention, that support was cordial indeed.
And Virginia Beach was a great place for a convention, in any case. Though off season, the weather was unseasonably warm. The area reeked of history, of sights to be seen and restaurants to be sampled.
It was a place and time of the greatest excitement.
It was also bedlam, nothing less. Schmidt followed Juanita through the mass of cheering . . . cheering what? Nuts, was Schmidt's opinion. And, though he tried to hide it from everyone, Juanita knew that opinion, even shared it to a degree.
A quick glance confirmed Juani's suspicions. "Smile, Goddamit, Jack. You're the man of the hour. Act like a politician for once in your life, will you? It won't kill you, you know."
Schmidt nodded, forced a smile to his face and then leaned over to whisper in Juani's ear, "These people are insane, Governor."
Juani shifted her eyes, glancing quickly at a bearded man in a confederate uniform with a pole bearing the Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia grasped tightly in his hands. The man wore gray clothes with a double set of brass buttons topped by a broad brimmed gray felt hat.
She smiled, warmly, and tore her widened eyes away. "I know, Jack, but what can you do?"
"Run to the insane asylum?" he asked, rhetorically. "It should be safe enough since all the real nuts are here."
"Jaaack . . ."
"Okay, Governor, okay. I'll be good."
Juanita, followed by Jack, began to climb the steps to the stage on which stood the podium. She really didn't feel quite at home. Worse, she felt a horrible itching between her shoulder blades, as if someone had set cross hairs on her back.
At the top of the stairs, once again standing by the governor's side, Jack whispered, "I've heard Willi herself is going to show up."
* * *
New York, New York
Wilhelmina Rottemeyer looked grimly at the message bearer, not more than half listening to the message. She thought, Feldman seems to have lost that useful obsequiousness for which he had once been so notable. Ah, well . . . why should he be any different from any of a hundred others of the "four f's" that have turned their backs on me? Even Caroline . . . but that thought, that wish, that reminiscence, she let go as being too painful to consider.
Feldman was far less groveling than she had become used to over the term of her administration. But there was a nervous quality to his voice and manner that raised Willi's hackles.
"So, yes, Madame President, the party is insistent that you must go and address this convention, to save what you can. The chairman says you owe him this much."
"My ass," snorted Rottemeyer. "I wouldn't trust my safety in Virginia now to a division of tanks. I sure as hell won't trust it to anything less."
"You'll be safe enough," answered Feldman, his doubtful tone belying his words.
"Even you don't believe that."
"You'll be safe from arrest, then. Will that do?"
"No."
Momentarily nonplussed, Feldman considered his next move. A slight smile crossed his face. He checked his wristwatch and said, "Governor Seguin is due to address the convention in about three minutes, Madame President. Why don't you watch that and then consider?"
* * *
Convention Center, Virginia Beach, Virginia
Juani took the podium, took a deep breath, and lastly took in her audience. They're not all nuts, Jack, no matter what you think, nor even most of them.
And Juani was right, as she had been right about limiting the violence, about resting her cause on the backs of the people. As she had been right and Jack had, often enough, been wrong. There were nuts in the audience and nuts at the convention. But there were also governors, legislators, academics. There were people of note and people unknown. Most of them were definitely not "nuts."
The governor, who was the chairwoman for this convention, looked out again over the sea of faces. Most seemed friendly, pleased, and supportive. The ones who were not? Well . . . there are a number of states that are hostile.
Juani began, "I would like to think that most of us know why we are here at this historic event. Nonetheless, for clarity's sake, we ought to restate it now. We are here, constitutionally assembled, to write or rewrite a Constitution for the United States of America. Perhaps it might be better to say that we are here to amend our existing constitution. I say 'amend' because everything I have learned since this convention assembled and everything I am told by the people of my own state says that few people, if any at all, really want to get rid of the Constitution that we have lived under and cherished for more than two centuries.
"I don't want to dispose of it myself. And I will, for whatever my own vote is worth here, vote and argue and filibuster and do whatever I can to keep from losing that magnificent law of our land."
Juani gazed out over the crowd. No real reaction to that. Does that mean they agree with me? Disagree? Aren't sure yet? Well . . . on we go . . .
"What I propose then is that we, as our first order of business, go over the current constitution and vote yea or nay on each line and passage, that we then do the same with the existing amendments, and only then should we open up debate on further amendments and changes."
Juani's face turned determined. "And we must be so very careful that we do not throw out the good with the bad, the baby with the bathwater.
"Because not everything the federal government has done is bad. Much of it has been so completely necessary that we could not exist as a country without it."
They didn't like hearing that too very much, did they? she observed. Well, they have to hear it.
"Let me explain.
"You do not like, most of you, some of the things the federal government has done with . . . oh . . . say . . . the commerce clause to the Constitution. Fine, I agree with you; I don't like some of them either. So let's say we get rid of the commerce clause at this convention. How long will it be before Louisiana enacts tariffs on Midwest food coming down the Mississippi? I give it a year. Maybe less.
"You don't like federal taxation? Fine, I agree with you. Do you like having a secure supply of oil? Well, how do we get that without an army to secure the Middle Eastern oil fields? How do we pay for that army without taxation?
"How do we build and maintain highways? Control flooding? Coordinate legitimate anticrime efforts that cross state borders? Keep up the railroads? Keep the ports dredged?"
"Ah, but 'The feds interfere too much,' I hear you say. Fine. I agree with that, too. But while Louisiana is enacting those tariffs, once we dispense with the commerce clause, how long before every state north of there dumps every kind of trash and pollutant into that same taxed Mississippi River . . . because there's no higher authority to keep them from doing that?"
Casting her eyes to the left center of the assembly, Juani caught sight of what she assumed, from their signs, was the National Rifle Association contingent.