“I thought that would happen.” He walked back to the middle of the stage. “We can’t get an accurate count by a show of hands.”
Somebody booed and others shushed him.
“We have four ballot boxes ready to go and a booth at each corner of the area.” He pointed. “Look for the white flags. Each person is given a piece of paper and if you want Nathan as First Speaker write an ‘N’ on it. If you want Pelagian as First Speaker, write a ‘P’ on the paper.
“When you put the ballot in the box, you will have the back of your right hand stamped with ink that takes a few days to wear off. You must show the back of your hand before you will receive a ballot. All right, citizens, let’s vote.”
Pelagian turned to Nathan and held out his hand. “Good luck!”
Nathan shook his hand and smiled. “Good luck to you, Pelagian.”
Grisha got into the shortest line and chatted with the woman in front of him who happened to be from Sealaska.
“This won’t sit well with people from other states, General. The crowd here is almost all Dená. I would wager there aren’t even any Aleuts at all, and damn few Tlingits other than you, me, and my husband.”
“No argument. I doubt that our two candidates would get the same acclaim in Akku or Kodiak. But this is a beginning for us on which to build. By the next election we will have a capital city and no doubt a variety of political parties.”
“Yes,” she said. “A lot must happen in the next four years. I think Sitka would be a good capital. It’s worked for three centuries.”
“For the Russians,” Grisha said with a small laugh. “But all of their administrative offices were in St. Nicholas on Cook’s Inlet.”
She smiled. “Perhaps we need regional capitals.”
“You may have something there. You’re next to vote.”
131
150 meters from the platform, Tanana
Timothy Riordan decided that Bachmann had been barking mad if he thought thirty men could stop this government thing with the Indians. Yet here he was, twenty feet off the ground in a tree, rifle with telescopic sights and all. He had seen his old guest, Pelagian, through the scope.
If it had been Bodecia, I probably would have fired!
The thought made him grin. He actually admired her even though she had been nothing but a pain in the ass for him. He suspected the attack on his camp had been a direct result of his capture of the three of them.
He winced at the memory of how little he had regarded the military prowess of the Dená. The Russians were what he feared then.
Good old 20-20 hindsight.
He glanced down at N’go, stationed at the bottom of the tree in a clump of bushes. The huge black man was staring at something in the opposite direction of the village.
Riordan twisted around to see if he could spot the distraction. His sphincter clenched when he saw the line of armed men moving slowly downslope toward him approximately five hundred meters away. They kept a six- or seven-meter distance between them, and if he could see six men there were probably more.
How did they know he was out here? Did they know he was out here? Perhaps this was just a security patrol?
No, that’s too organized for this lot. Even the Freekorps wasn’t this military.
He knew he had to move; they would be here in less than ten minutes. He untied the rope holding him in place. It went over the limb above him and was firmly tied to the harness he wore.
With a flick of his wrist the coiled rope dropped and the end landed next to N’go, who looked up and nodded. Carefully, Riordan slowly slid his butt off the branch and eased himself down the tree, inch by laboriously slow inch. Quicker movement would catch the wrong eyes.
Applause erupted in the village. The Alaska Republik had its first president, or whatever they called it. He wondered which of the men won the vote.
A quote by Ben Franklin surfaced from somewhere in his memory: “We have built a republic, gentlemen, we must endeavor to keep it if we can.”
Riordan shook his head. I don’t have time for this kind of crap; I must be losing my mind!
N’go grabbed his ankle and steadied him as he lowered the last couple of feet. He pulled the rope over the limb and caught it when it dropped from the tree.
“We gotta get out of here, my friend,” he whispered.
“They have us hemmed in,” N’go whispered back. “All we can do is hide in this bush and hope they don’t see us.”
More applause sounded from the village. An amplified voice said something and more applause drowned it out.
One of the men coming through the trees yelled, “Okay, guys, let’s wrap this up and join the party!”
The men dropped discipline and all hurried toward the village.
Riordan and N’go both huddled on top of their weapons, hoping their camouflaged clothing would blend with the shadows in the clump of bushes.
Out of the corner of his eye Riordan saw the boots of the man closest to them as he hurried past. The men had not found them; he and N’go were safe.
“Let’s get out of here,” Riordan whispered. “We have a long way to travel before we can stop looking over our shoulders.”
“Agreed!” N’go mumbled.
They crawled out of the bushes and, watching the men hurry toward the village, stood up to stretch.
“Drop the rifles or you’re dead!” a voice ordered.
N’go released his weapon and raised his hands.
“Shit,” Riordan said as he let his rifle fall into the decomposing leaves from last year. He looked around. “Oh hell, not you!”
Yukon Cassidy, Roland Delcambré, and Colonel Del Buhrman all smiled, but their weapons did not waver.
“Roland,” Cassidy said. “Would you do the honors? They’re in my pack.”
“My most distinct pleasure!” The diminutive man handed his weapon to Colonel Buhrman and reached into the pack on Cassidy’s back. He pulled out chains.
“You don’t have to do that,” Riordan said. “We’ll go quietly.”
“Yeah, you would,” Cassidy said. “But how long would you stay? We’re not going to give you the opportunity to kill another gullible, young guard.”
Riordan seethed inside. They might chain his arms but he could still run like the wind given the opportunity. Delcambré seemed to have an awful lot of chain for just two men.
“Turn around and face the village,” Cassidy ordered.
“Damn,” N’go said softly as he complied. Riordan did as ordered.
“Riordan, put your hands behind your back.”
Cassidy was beginning to get on his nerves.
Metal clicked around one wrist, then the other. Both manacles were tightened to the point of pain, but he was damned if he would give them the pleasure of hearing him whine.
“Now put your feet together!”
Riordan’s heart sank as Delcambré snapped leg irons on his ankles just above his boots.
So much for running. He wondered if they would hang him.
Delcambré went to work on N’go. As a final insult, the little bastard chained him and N’go together.
“There we are. They can shuffle but they can’t hide!”
All three of the captors laughed.
“Start for the village. You first, Riordan.”
He almost fell with the first step. His feet could only move a foot from each other. Now he was very sure that he hated Yukon Cassidy and, if the tables ever turned, would kill him in an instant.
It took forever to reach the edge of the village. A utility waited and four armed soldiers watched him hobble up to them.
“So this is the bad-ass Riordan?”
“That’s him, Heinrich. Do not give him a chance of any sort. He has killed two men in cold blood to escape and been the cause of the deaths of many others.”