“Would you like some coffee, refreshments?” McGraw asked.
“No thank you,” Williamson said.
McGraw nodded to the major, and she retreated, closing the door behind her.
The three men sat, Stan stiffly. Because of his words last month, he was aware of the gun in his holster. If it came down to it, could he draw the weapon and kill two high-ranking officers? That wouldn’t save Jake. It would be an act of premeditated revenge.
You’d better start thinking. Otherwise, your boy is dead.
“This is a surprise,” McGraw told Williamson.
A precise smile stretched across the Militia general’s face, and he twitched his head. “No. I don’t think so. I notice Colonel Higgins sitting beside me. That is quite deliberate on your part, and I understand. You Army people hang together. You’ve known about my request for several weeks now, and I’m sure you’ve been notified of my coming.”
“I have a war to run,” McGraw said. “These petty problems—”
“Allow me to cut to the chase,” Williamson said. “You are the Southern Front Joint Forces Commander. I’m quite aware of that. You should be aware of this, however.” The Militia general took a wallet out of his jacket and flipped it open, setting it on the desk and sliding it across.
McGraw peered down at it as if the thing was poisonous.
“My commission comes directly from the President,” Williamson said. “I work under his authority.”
“But still under Homeland Security auspices,” McGraw said.
“For matters of form, yes, Director Harold is my superior. But my authority to act derives from the President.” Williamson paused as if for effect, and he turned to Stan. “Your son has committed an act of treason.”
“Defending his life was treason?” Stan asked.
“Murdering his superior sergeant was treason, yes.”
“He shot the sergeant in self-defense.”
“If you are correct, you should be willing for him to face a tribunal in order to clear his record.”
“Should I?” Stan asked.
“Colonel Higgins,” McGraw said. “I suggest you speak in a softer tone with—”
“No, no,” Williamson said. “Let the father speak his mind. I’m interested in what he has to say against the lawful organization defending our country.”
Stan recognized the threat but refused to let it intimidate him. “You sent my son to a penal battalion because he pissed on a portrait of your boss. The Militia response shows a gross misuse of power. Before that, Jake was a hero in the siege of Denver. Let him die for his country but don’t allow him any opinion but for the ones you give him? Is that it?”
“I am aware of his questionable record,” Williamson said.
Stan opened his mouth to retort.
“Hold it, Colonel,” McGraw said in a stern voice. “General, if I could have your attention.”
Both Stan and Williamson faced big Tom.
“I respect your office and your record,” McGraw told Williamson. “What I don’t respect is your interference with my coming offensive. Corporal Jake Higgins belongs to a Behemoth tank crew. Those tanks are the key to our coming success—if we’re going to have one. I don’t care if Jake Higgins raped your mother. He stays with his tank until the offensive is over.”
“He is officially a Militia member,” Williamson said coldly. “You do not have the authority to stop me. If I call the President, he will order you to hand Jake Higgins into my custody.”
“Then make your call,” McGraw said. “You can do it right here. But know this. By doing that, you will make a personal enemy out of me. Is that really what you want?”
Williamson laughed softly. “Please, General, don’t attempt any melodramatics with me. I am a patriot.”
“So am I,” McGraw said hotly. “So is Stan Higgins, a Medal of Honor recipient.”
“I follow the law,” Williamson said.
“And aid and abet the enemy through your actions,” McGraw said.
Williamson stiffened as his neck flushed red.
“Now see here, old son,” McGraw said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. We’re both supposed to be on the same side. I know you believe you’re right, and I believe I’m right. Neither matters now. The coming offensive is all that counts. That means you shouldn’t interfere with my tank divisions. By taking Jake, you’ll hurt the morale of his entire regiment. I only have six of them—six to defeat the Chinese.”
Through his ridiculous lenses, Williamson glowered at McGraw. “I will have the traitor one way or another. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m asking you to wait,” McGraw said. “Let the man fight for his country. At this stage in the war, isn’t that more important?”
“I will make that call to DC,” Williamson said.
“You’re a hard man, General, but a smart one, too,” McGraw said. “I run Southern Front. If you make that call, I’ll make one of my own. Who do you think the President will listen to right now, you or me?”
Militia General Williamson shot to his feet so several of his bones popped with sound. He swiped the wallet off McGraw’s desk. Without a word, he slipped the wallet into his jacket and marched for the door.
“One way or another,” he muttered. Then he was out the door, leaving it ajar.
A moment later, the major looked in, with her plucked eyebrows raised. McGraw gestured, and she shut the door softly.
“Damn Militia bastards,” McGraw muttered.
Stan’s blood pressure still ran high. He didn’t know if the two generals had staged that or not. Why bother pretending such a thing for his benefit? It didn’t make sense. He was a colonel, not a general. Maybe McGraw was for real.
“Thanks,” Stan said.
“I’d do it for any of my men.”
Stan didn’t want to say the words, but he did. “I owe you one.”
McGraw gave him a hearty smile, and he stood, coming around the desk. Holding out his hand, the general pumped Stan’s arm and slapped him on the shoulder.
“It’s good to have you back, old son.”
Stan looked down. He didn’t know what to make of all this. Had McGraw truly been drunk the other night? He found it hard to believe.
“Stick around for a while,” McGraw said. “I’ll buy you a beer later at the officers’ club.”
“I should be getting back to my regiment and seeing to those three tanks.”
McGraw nodded, and he slapped Stan on the shoulder once more. “Maybe you’re right. The offensive is coming soon, and I mean to win this one big. We’re going to drive the Chinese out of Oklahoma and through Texas into Mexico.”
“I hope you’re right, sir.”
“We’ll have to think of something for your boy.”
“Yes, sir,” Stan said.
“Until then, make sure he sticks close to base. Who knows what these goons will try next? Williamson is as tough as nails. He’s not going to back down long.”
Stan silently agreed, and soon he found himself saying goodbye to the major. Did McGraw and Harold still have ideas of unseating the President? Stan hoped not. But even more importantly, what did General Williamson plan to do about Jake?
Corporal Jake Higgins found the answer to his father’s question nine days before the start of Operation Reclamation.
It was early morning, with the monster tanks hidden under camouflage netting and surrounded by trees. Twenty inflatable fake Army trucks with huge inflatable stacks of boxes gave the impression this was a growing forward supply dump. It was part of McGraw’s deception techniques to fool Chinese surveillance drones. Neither side maintained recon satellites, as the other side beamed them down as fast as they reached operational orbit. That meant each side used high-flying stealth drones. Various tents provided sleeping quarters for the crews. A larger tent served the function of mess hall.