50
Julia scurried toward the barn. She reached its back wall, shielded from view.
She stopped, bracing herself against the corrugated metal, which was gritty, rusty, and scratchy under her hands.
Light from within the barn emanated through the rust holes, and she realized she could use them to see inside.
She looked in the first one and saw a hayloft that stored boxes and equipment. It was too dim inside to tell what the equipment was or read the boxes. There was no hay, grain, or anything for animals.
She scurried to the next rust hole and got a parallax view inside the barn. She could see some of the ground floor, which was brightly lit with fluorescent fixtures. She went to the next rust hole and got a sharply-angled view of the front of its ground floor.
The barn door was open wide, and men were carrying boxes out. She counted five of them. She didn’t see Novak among them, but a few of the men had on ballcaps and he could’ve been one. She couldn’t see anything else. She had to get closer.
She walked farther, turned the corner, flattening herself against the side wall. The men couldn’t see her because the side wall was situated beyond its center door. Still, her heart was leaping out of her chest.
She crept down the hillside, feeling her way along the wall in the darkness.
She ran her fingers along its side, flaking with rust. She could hear the men’s voices inside the barn but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
She kept going a quarter of the way down the wall, then a half, then three-quarters.
There was a large rust hole, and she put her eye to it, shocked at the sight.
The ground floor looked like a huge office.
Rows and rows of laptops and 3D printers sat on folding tables.
There were scores of workstations and chairs, empty now, each with its own bin of black plastic pieces.
Chunks of black plastic overflowed wastebaskets.
Wires plugged into surge protectors snaked across the floor.
Boxes and trash lay everywhere. A large table with a bank of laptops stood at the head of the room, with bins of plastic guns.
My God. Julia realized that she was looking at a gun factory. This must be where they’d made the ghost guns. She’d discovered a massive illegal gun-manufacturing operation.
Horrified, she watched as men picked up boxes from the barn, carried them to the truck, and loaded them.
The boxes had to contain guns, and the men were taking them somewhere for delivery or even for use.
The five men must’ve been involved in printing ghost guns, but they couldn’t have been everyone who did.
There were dozens of workstations in the barn.
Julia’s mind raced. She formulated a plan. She could hear the men talking but she had to know what they were saying. Once she found out, she could get back to the car and find a phone to call 911.
She told herself to wait until they were finished loading the truck. They had to go at some point, and then it would be safe to get back to her car. She couldn’t leave now because it was too dangerous. Even opening her car door would make the light go on and draw their attention.
She wished she knew what they were saying.
She needed to get closer. She flattened herself against the wall and made her way down the hill, running her fingers along the wall.
She got as far as she dared, almost all the way to the front.
She could hear the voices. She didn’t need to look inside because the action was outside.
One of the men hopped in the U-Haul and drove it a short distance away from the barn.
Its head and taillights cast light around the men, who were grouping around a pile of wood, debris, and junk that the truck had hidden from view.
The lights switched off when the truck parked, plunging the area into darkness.
One of the men shouted, “Okay, light it up, Pat!”
Pat. Julia realized Patrick Novak had on a backward-baseball cap, facing her on the far side of the pile. He bent over and lit the wood. The men hooted, hollered, and cheered, then started passing out beers.
Flame began to flicker in the pile, and one of the men poured gasoline on the fire. Others threw wood and cardboard from boxes. The bonfire burst into a conflagration, its orange and red streaks sending off tendrils of smoke into the night.
Julia couldn’t leave her hiding place yet. The blaze illuminated the hillside next to the barn. The men were in constant motion, drinking, cheering, and partying. She’d have to wait until their celebration was over.
Finally the men began to settle down, their laughter and hooting subsiding. Julia thought the party was over, but the men began to assemble near the bonfire, forming a line in front of a bald man holding a cardboard box.
Julia scrutinized the man’s profile. It looked familiar, then she recognized him, with a shock. It was McKenna. She flashed on the photo she’d seen of him with Novak and Shoemaker, then the online headshot from his realty business. He was older and bald, but it was definitely him.
McKenna faced the men like a commander directing his troops. “Men, this is it! What we’ve been planning for, for so long! It’s almost dawn! Today, we strike!”
“Hell, yes!” “We’re in!” the men cheered, their black silhouettes frightening against the fiery orange of the conflagration.
“For far too long, we watched the corruption of the powers that be take our hard-earned tax dollars and line their pockets! The government is run by the billionaires and the corporate class that suck the blood out of your body and the bodies of your wives and children! You hear me, men?”
“Yes!” “We do!” “We’re sick of it!” “It’s payback time!”
“We watched politicians turn this country into a whorehouse. Any government not of the people, by the people, and for the people is rotten to the core. We can’t take it anymore.
We won’t stand by while rich scum destroy what’s rightfully ours, this great country of ours.
It’s about to end, am I right? We will end them! ”
“Yes, yes!” It’s over!” “Time’s up, fuckers!” “White men, fight back! White men, fight back!”
“Men, who’s country is this?”
“Our country!”
“I can’t hear you!” McKenna bellowed. “Whose country?”
“Our country!” the men responded, shouting louder.
“Yes, our country! Men, we’re the tip of the spear, a new, nativist movement blazing a path, leading the way!
Now’s the time to lay down our calling card.
To make known our presence and our will.
Today’s the beginning. Today we accept the mission!
Our movement is the Two-Fifty Brigade! Two-Fifty! USA!”
“Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!” The men cheered.
Julia trembled, terrified. These men weren’t just gun manufacturers.
They were domestic terrorists. They had an ideology.
They were planning something. She held her breath as McKenna reached into the box he was holding, took out a small round object, and raised it high, like a priest raising a Communion wafer.
“Now, see this, men? This coin symbolizes our mission. Each coin has our proud American flag and today’s date, the date of our first attack! We’re kicking off the two hundred fiftieth anniversary celebration with a bang! It’s only the beginning, men! One of many! Two-Fifty! USA!”
“Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!”
“Yes, men! Each of you has earned this coin, as a member of the Two-Fifty Brigade. This coin is an honor and a thing of beauty, thanks to Pat, who designed and printed them.” McKenna nodded in Novak’s direction, then turned back to the men.
“I award this coin to each of you. Treasure it, as it symbolizes not only your mission, but also your honor, duty, and patriotism. We love this country and if necessary, we’ll save it with our blood.
This is your last moment in the shadows, men!
Today we lay down our marker and our lives, if need be! Are you with me, men?”
“Sir!” “Sir, yes, sir!” “Fuck, yeah!” The men hooted and hollered, and Julia’s heart thundered.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, hearing, witnessing.
She held her breath in terrified silence.
A dark chapter in American history was unfolding before her very eyes.
She would never have guessed that investigating Kay’s murder would have brought her to this horror.
“This morning, we strike at Valley Forge!” McKenna’s voice boomed against the rumbling of the bonfire.
“We stand up for this country against the tyranny of the government! Against the bloodsuckers who prey on true patriots! Tomorrow morning, we start the Second American Revolution! Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!”
“Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!” The men chanted again, but Julia felt stunned tears. She was watching the planning of a terrorist attack. She could only imagine how many innocent people would be killed at Valley Forge. She stood frozen with mute shock against the barn.
“Men, do you accept this mission? Would you pay for it with your blood?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The men roared in agreement, shaking their raised fists.
“Then accept this coin.” McKenna handed a coin to the first man in line, then to the second, then to each of the six.
Novak was the last to receive one, then McKenna stepped back, taking a last coin from the box.
“I accept this coin and the command of this sacred mission. I am honored to serve with you men to save our homeland.”
“Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!” The men cheered.
“Dave, look alive!” McKenna said, pointing at a man in the middle. “You have the most important job tomorrow. You’re the driver. You know where to park.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Laird!” McKenna pointed to the next man. “You’ll meet the others by the encampment.”
“Yes, sir!”
McKenna faced the men. “Men, you know the plan. We’ve been over it a thousand times.
The crowd will be getting ready to watch the first reenactment, which is the Battle of Trenton.
The truck with the ordnance will already be in place.
You’ll move at 0750. Act natural. Don’t run but don’t delay.
When you’re a minimum safe distance away, I’ll hit the remote detonator, and at 0800, ba-boom! ”
“Ba-boom!” “Yes!” “Fuck, yes!” “Boom!” the men cheered, raising their fists. The fire raged behind them, an infernal blaze in the night.
Julia stifled a horrified gasp. She realized the details of the plan.
They were going to blow up the U-Haul at Valley Forge.
They were going to kill innocent people.
Families who’d come to have fun. History buffs who wanted to observe reenactments.
Patriots who celebrated the historic day.
Spectators would be in the thousands, so would participants.
The scheme shocked her to her very soul.
It was unthinkable. She had to stop them.
She had to tell the cops as soon as she could get to a phone.
“Okay, we have to get ready. There’s not much time.
I have one last task.” McKenna checked his watch, then looked up.
“Pat?” McKenna looked over at him. “You know you screwed up when you lost the prototype. That was the model for our coin. You coulda blown up our mission. You coulda gotten us in a world of trouble.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Novak said, his voice newly shaky. “It fell out of my pocket at McGlinchey’s. Accidents happen.”
“You were wrong to have it on you, son. You were careless. Undisciplined.”
“But I fixed it, sir. I got the coin back. I wasted that Black bitch.”
My God. Julia realized with horror that Novak meant Kay. So Novak had murdered her to get the coin. She must’ve found it on the clean-up at McGlinchey’s.
“No, Pat, you didn’t fix anything.” McKenna shook his head. “You made it worse. You overreacted. You caused loose ends. Everybody came nosin’ around because of you. The granddaughter, the friend. The husband, the lawyer.”
Julia’s eyes flew open, realizing McKenna meant Courtney, Paul, Bennie, and her.
“It’s not on me, sir. I didn’t—”
“Shut up! Yes, it is on you, Pat. Nobody woulda known anything if you hadn’t fucked up with the coin.
We woulda been on a glide path. You committed a fatal error.
You suffer from the sin of pride. You’re so fucking proud of your coin that you carried it around.
It was supposed to stay here, eyes only, but you breached operational security.
Your carelessness threatened our mission.
You made yourself a danger to the team.”
“Wait, please, Bill!” Novak edged away, raising his hands defensively. “You know me, we go back! Don’t do it—”
McKenna whipped a gun from behind his back and fired it pointblank at Novak’s chest. The muzzle spit flame. The shot rang out, echoing in the valley.
Novak collapsed as his body absorbed the bullet’s impact. He emitted an agonized groan. His arms flew up reflexively. He collapsed, dropping to the dirt. The other men recoiled. No one spoke. Gunsmoke filtered through the air, an acrid odor.
Julia reeled, stunned. She covered her mouth not to scream. Her horrified gaze went to Novak’s face. He was definitely Matt Winger from college, the man in her blind spot.
“Don’t turn away. Look at Pat, men.” McKenna pointed down at Novak’s body, bleeding gruesomely from the wound.
“This kill was necessary and righteous. Operational security exists for a reason. Procedure guards our safety and our sacred mission. Let this be a lesson. We’re on the one-yard line.
Nothing can go wrong tomorrow. Now, nothing will. ”
The men exchanged nervous glances. “Yes, sir,” one answered slowly, then another joined in, and the rest nodded.
“We’ll bury this trash in the woods. Let’s go.
” McKenna started heading toward the trees.
“Laird, get shovels and a tarp. John, finish loading the truck. Dave, help him, then take the truck and hit the road. Get moving, men. Now!” McKenna took off and started walking directly past Julia.
If he happened to look over, he would see her.
Please, God help me. Julia squeezed against the barn.
And stood perfectly still, praying.