The Distance Beacons Read Online Free

forces in the event of certain contingencies," he explained unnecessarily. "One of those contingencies was an emergency declared by the president or by the military commander of the region in which you reside. I am the military commander of this region. You have two choices, Mr. Sands. You can take on this assignment as a civilian, or you can take it on as a private in the United States Army, pursuant to a military emergency that I will be happy to declare right now. Which do you choose, Mr. Sands?"
    My momentary admiration for the Feds had disappeared. This was what people didn't like about them, after all: the arbitrary imposition of their will on the hapless guy just trying to make it through life. What was I supposed to do? Take them to court? That might have worked in the old days, but not anymore. You don't win cases against the Feds anymore. No, you basically have to do what they tell you to do, and hope that their incompetence will keep them from bothering you too much. Right now, unfortunately, they were being pretty competent.
    "I get two new dollars a day, plus expenses," I said. "Ten dollars in advance."
    General Cowens turned away. Bolton smiled and picked up the phone. "Lisa, would you bring me ten dollars from petty cash?"
    Ten dollars was not petty cash to me. Lisa hurried in with the money. I didn't feel like smiling at her. She wouldn't have noticed anyway; she was too busy being efficient in front of her boss and the general. I signed a receipt and put the money in my pocket. Back in business again.
    "Well, I'm glad that was settled so amicably," Bolton said when Lisa had left. "Now, how can we assist your investigation?"
    I tried to think like a private eye. "When is the president arriving?" I asked.
    "Soon," Bolton replied.
    "I don't recall seeing anything about this in the paper. Has it been made public yet?"
    "Government employees were told this morning. The public announcement will be made later this afternoon."
    I thought. Bolton waited. Cowens looked bored. "Have you considered the possibility that this is an inside job?" I asked.
    "What do you mean, 'an inside job'?" Bolton replied.
    "Someone from the government trying to stop the president's visit." I summarized the theory I had just come up with. "None of us have heard of this Second American Revolution, right? Doesn't prove anything, but it's suggestive. And the president's visit isn't common knowledge, but obviously people within the government had to know. Also, there's the message itself. On white bond paper, and typed—looks like with an electric typewriter. How many radical groups have access to that kind of paper and that kind of typewriter? And there's the way the message was delivered. I don't imagine it's that easy to get into this building and up to your office—your guard looked pretty alert out there."
    Bolton shook his head. "I don't think so, Sands. First of all, you might not have known about the president's visit, but I'm well aware that there have been rumors about it for some time now. As for the paper and the typing—well, there's nothing particularly conclusive about that. Not all the typewriters in existence are owned by the government. And the outer door to my office is guarded only when I'm here. I don't see much of a problem for someone to come up in the early morning or after work without being noticed. And anyway, why would someone from the government want to stop President Kramer's visit?"
    "All you need is one secret radical sympathizer," I suggested.
    Bolton didn't look convinced. I wasn't especially convinced myself.
    General Cowens broke the awkward silence. "All of this," he murmured, "ignores the fact that TSAR does in fact exist."
    Swell, I thought. Five minutes on the case and already I'm making a fool of myself.
    "Have you learned something, Bob?" Bolton asked. "When we talked earlier you said you hadn't heard of them."
    "I can't personally keep track of every anti-government group that comes and goes around