"Two of us take on one whole branch of the government?" Henry said with a soft chuckle. "That's just a little too lopsided for me, Ray. I'm not that eager to die."

"I'm not talking about just the two of us, Henry. There are at least five or six million serious Bill of Rights advocates in this country who understand the importance of the Second Amendment. There are at most- what?-ten or twelve thousand people in the government trying to dismantle the Bill of Rights. That's a 500-to-l advantage. And you, one person, have managed to kill twenty-two of those enemies. There'll be no contest."

"I got thrown into that," Henry said quickly. "I had to do something. No one else is in that position." He doesn't see it Ray thought. I'll try a different tack.

"We're at a crossroads here, Henry. And we've got history to guide us, to tell us which road to take. Think of how the last fifty years would have been different if the Jews in Germany had chosen the other road. There were German Jews who fought in France in World War One, and you know some of them brought home guns. Twenty years later, when the SS guys came for them, they had a choice, and the choice they made was to roll over and get ready to die.

"What would have happened if after Kristallnacht, they had swept up their broken glass, dragged out their twenty-year-old war souvenirs, and said 'Okay, those guys didn't wear masks. We know exactly who they were. They're dead meat', and blasted the storm troopers the next time they saw them alone? What if every time there was a raid, a couple of those fresh-faced blond twenty-year-olds got carried off to the morgue, and the others got marked for later execution?"

"I can't argue with you there; I've said the same thing many times."

"Right. And what about the Ku Klux Klan here in America? They had serious power for sixty or seventy years. What if every time five or six guys in white sheets came to toss a firebomb in a black church, or burn a cross on a guy's lawn, somebody with a ten-dollar .22 shot one of them in the leg to keep him from running away? And then held a straight razor against his balls and asked the man nicely for the names and addresses of his friends? And then popped each one of them in the back over the next few weeks, while they were on their way to church, or the drug store? Klan wouldn't have lasted seventy minutes, let alone seventy years.

"Look, I know that with the Jews, there's been a hundred or so generations of knuckling under. And Jews have always succeeded mentally, not physically. Say Sandy Koufax and Mark Spitz, and you've about exhausted the list of the world's Jewish athletes. Blacks had a history of subservience too, Jim Crow laws in many places kept them from having guns, and where it was legal, they didn't have any money to buy anything but junk single-shots.

"But shit, Henry, the people at the crossroads now don't have any of those problems!" Ray looked at his friend, who had obviously been thinking about what he had been saying.

"I've said many of the same things, to various other people, over the last twenty or thirty years," Henry admitted.

"So you agree that this problem is not going to go away, and it is only going to get worse until it turns into a real shooting war?" Ray asked.

"I think that's already been proven. But how are you proposing we make this 'call to arms', Ray? Organizing against the government, we'd get nailed in a New York second. Someone will always sell you out to save his own ass."

"We don't organize. Who were you organized with in the last week? Nobody. You can't get sold out if no one knows what you're doing. We use the Internet, and electronic bulletin boards. We get the message out, about who the targets are, and how easy it is to kill them and get away with it when working alone.

"We don't have to get much participation, Henry. Hell, take that figure of five million I used before, which I think may be low. If only one out of every five thousand thinks it's a good plan, and pops one fed, don't you think a thousand dead ATF agents would get these guys to revise their priorities?"

"Let's see if I've got your plan straight, here. You want to log onto the Internet, or a bunch of bulletin boards, or both. Anonymously, of course. Then you want to issue an 'Immediate Release' to all ATF and government offices." Henry thought a moment, then went on.

"It'll say something like, 'ATF, you've had your fun and up 'til now your only risk has been a letter in your file or a few days of paid suspension. That's over. Thousands of decent American citizens are in prison or dead because they didn't fill out a line on one of your stupid forms, or a piece of wood or metal was longer or shorter than you said it should be, or some other stupid thing. No more. The party's over.'" Henry thought a moment. "Won't do much good to kill the janitors in the federal buildings, so let's put a limit on our ultimatum, say, GS-7." He went back to his announcer's voice.

"'From now on, any ATF employee with a Government Service classification of GS-7 or higher is a party to the treason the ATF has committed and is now subject to execution, as are all ATF informants. No exceptions.

"'Second, any judge who upholds any gun law shall also be guilty of treason and subject to execution. No exceptions. From now on, guns will be treated the same as books.

"'Third, since elected officials and law enforcement entities have a duty to defend the Constitution, any elected official or police agent who supports or enforces any measure, past or present, which violates the Second Amendment shall be subject to execution. Private citizens may freely advocate any policies or ideas that they want, as per the First Amendment.'" Not bad, actually Ray thought, but Henry was talking again.

"Then I suppose you'd want to post a list on the Internet of all the ATF agents and their home addresses. Informants too, and maybe throw in the national politicians who've voted for antigun bills, so the people wouldn't have to track down all that info themselves. And then a few tips about tactics, and acting alone, and not talking to anyone, and how you should refuse to make any statements at all to cops. That about what you had in mind?" Henry asked his friend.

"Oh, I almost forgot-I guess you'd want to give all these thugs an alternative to being executed, so you'd throw in a graceful way out, like 'Public notice in the Wall Street Journal classifieds of resignation from government service or from law enforcement duties shall secure absolution from past crimes. Any return to government service shall reinstate the death sentence'.

"Would that do it, Ray?" Henry asked with raised eyebrows and a faint smile. "Shall we let them keep their pensions?"

"You don't think that plan would work?" Ray asked. His face was entirely devoid of expression. Henry's face became equally serious, and Ray watched him inhale deeply before answering.

"No, I don't think it would work. Let's leave out the fact that no System Operator in his right mind would run that kind of message on his bulletin board because he'd be soliciting murder. Assuming you could get your message out exactly the way you wanted it, your revolt would still never happen, and here's why: "You might get a few guys from the fringes of society. A fellow like Randy Weaver might go for your idea. You might get a Tim McVeigh or two. And out-of-work guys who spend all their time talking about forming militias might buy in, but they'd blab about anything they were even thinking of doing, and they'd get caught before they accomplished a thing.

"For your plan to really work, you need intelligent, thoughtful, motivated people to embrace it. You need leaders, not losers." Henry took a breath and shook his head slowly, thinking.

"That's not going to happen for two reasons. First, you are asking people to do the hardest thing in the world, and that's to be completely alone with no support. You're asking people to go into enemy territory alone, like a guy parachuting into France before the Normandy invasion.

"Except your soldier won't have anyone on his side who knows what he's up to and who might be able to help him. Your soldier can't look forward to getting out of enemy territory when his mission is accomplished. Your soldier can't talk to his buddies about how scared he was and how glad he is to be safe. Your soldier has no commanding officer. Your soldier is winging it.

"I can't think of a single person I know who'd sign on to that deal on the basis of an anonymous message over the Internet." / guess he's right Ray thought, and a feeling of helpless rage came over him.

"There's another problem," Henry said, "and it's even more serious than the first one. You are expecting your volunteers to go out and kill people who are just like them. You aren't saying, 'See that guy over there, by the barbed wire? The one wearing a strange uniform, talking in a language you don't understand, and laughing while his German Shepherd tears the baby out of that naked woman's belly? Go blast him.'

"That would be easy. That would be like sitting in your living room in Bozeman, Montana, seeing some Italian U.N. troops in blue berets smash in the door across the street. Take about three seconds to decide what to do there: Boom! Bunch of dead Italians. Ninety-four Crime Bill, where the President had that provision in it to hire a bunch of Hong Kong Municipal Police 'cause they'd be good at seizing guns, I had to laugh. Talk about hazardous duty, Christ! You send a bunch of Chinese police to go seize guns from folks in Kentucky, undertakers'll be working three shifts.

"But what you're telling people, Ray, is 'See that guy over there, waiting for the bank's loan officer 'cause his wife want to remodel the bathroom? The one wearing the suit a little more wrinkled than yours? The guy who just dropped his kids off at Little League and then ate lunch with his wife at Shoney's? Yeah, that's the one. He's an ATF field agent. Last week he inspected the inventory of a local gun store. Found a single-shot .22 with a 16 1/2" barrel. Looked at it close, saw it was a smoothbore, made for .22 shot loads, so he called his supervisor. Sixteen inches is the limit for rifles, but under 18" for smoothbores without the $200 registration is illegal possession of a sawed-off shotgun. Store owner and his employees are now in jail, trying to raise a $250,000 bond, charged with violating the National Firearms Act, conspiracy to violate federal firearms laws, and violating RICO. The entire contents of the store as well as the building itself have been seized under the new forfeiture laws. The agent's about to go to the bank's parking garage now. Pop him in the back of the head with a .22 when he fiddles with his car keys, then walk away.'

"Ray, no one is going to do that. History proves it. You are not going to get intelligent, thoughtful, levelheaded leaders to declare violent war on people that live in their neighborhood and whose kids go to their kids' school. It's hard enough for most people to fight complete strangers when they invade their country. Frogs wouldn't do it in '42. Italians, Yugoslavians, Greeks, same deal. Hell, even the Czechs, back in the '30s, they didn't do anything, and the Czechs had some of the best guns in the world, built at the ZB factory there.

"The Reichsprotektor of Czechoslovakia rode around in an open car with only a driver for security, and all the driver had was a P38 in a flap holster. Finally, after a few years of occupation, a handful of guys decided to pop Heydrich, and they blew up his car. Blasted pieces of horsehide from the seats into him, and he eventually died from blood poisoning, 'cause they didn't have any penicillin. But guess what? Heydrich was a hero, and got a hero's funeral and a huge monument on his grave. Kraut's'd won the war, he'd be in the history books as a hero today."

"I'll grant you your points," Ray said. "Let me get us a couple more sodas 'fore we talk ourselves hoarse." He left for a few minutes and returned with two cans and a brown paper bag. Ray handed Henry his Coke and sat back down.

"My idea wouldn't work the way you described it, you're right about that. I'll also admit that it is much harder to initiate a war when your enemies look and talk just like you do. But you're forgetting one thing.

"This isn't Germany or France or Czechoslovakia. It's America. Americans are people who don't want government running their lives. That's why we're here. The Colonists fought the finest army in the world for that reason. Immigrants came here and made this their home because of that philosophy.

"You're right that I wouldn't sign up after reading an anonymous call to arms. But I would sign up when I saw with my own two eyes that it was time. And I see that right now, with what happened to you. You got the names, addresses, and a lot more, and I've got the resources. I want to fight these bastards, Henry. Don't you?"

"Ray," Henry said, as he watched his friend fiddle with the paper sack, "I came here because I wanted your help, ideas mostly, on making sure I stayed out of prison. The fact is, I'd like to keep blasting these guys, and I haven't completely made up my mind to quit just yet. Not when the first twenty-two went so well," he added.

"But you're in a lot different position," Henry went on. "I got thrown into this, and I can't turn back the clock. I don't think you should voluntarily jump into something that can get you put away for life." Henry Bowman shifted his position in the overstuffed armchair.

"I'm not up on my Aspen land values, but my guess is your net worth is fifteen or twenty million bucks." "No, you're not up to date," Ray said, "and that money from my settlement that I put in a mutual fund wrapped in an annuity? Over a hundred million now."

"You're kidding."

"No, that's just fourteen percent a year, which piles up when you defer the taxes instead of having to lose principal every year."

"Well, that's my point. No matter what our government does, I can't see them nationalizing all your real estate. And your fund is still worth sixty million after the feds take forty percent. Guy in your situation can insulate himself from Washington." Henry cocked an eyebrow as he continued. "Might burn up most of your money by the time you die, but that's a damn sight better than having the feds confiscate it all under RICO and send you off to prison to have your asshole stretched by a bunch of lifers with AIDS."

"I know that, Henry. I also know that in the eighteenth century, the principals in the American Revolution didn't have AFDC, and Social Security, and unemployment, and Welfare to fall back on. If they lost their house and their land and their livelihood, they had nothing. The taxes the Colonists paid in America were lower than the ones the Brits paid in England, but that didn't cut any ice. The Colonists said 'enough'. And when the time came to shoot those guys that looked the same and talked the same as they did, they shot them.

"What I want to do is modest compared to what the Founders did. Every one of the men who signed the Declaration of Independence knew he might be signing his own death warrant. And many of them were captured, tortured, and killed. I'm not as brave as they were. But I will put my money where my mouth is. One of those brave men was a landowner who makes me look like a bit player. He owned more land than anyone else in the entire state of Virginia, and his property extended all the way to Ohio. I'm sure he could have cut a deal and kept all or most of what he had by siding with the King, but he didn't.

"George Washington could have relaxed on his estate, screwing his wife when she was in the mood and his slave girls when she wasn't, but instead he chose to risk death by starvation and exposure in the winter, and fever in the summer, fighting in the woods alongside a bunch of his field hands. If you'd gone to law school, you might have learned that," Ray said with a grin.

"In Africa, I kept having to move from one country to another because the governments always ended up stealing the wealth their most productive residents created. I move back here, where that kind of shit doesn't happen, and as soon as I get to the airport I discover that while I was gone the federal government of the United States started modeling itself after Germany's brownshirts in the 'thirties." He held out the paper bag. "So I'm in, pal."

"What's that?" Henry made no move to take the sack.

"Went to one of my safes while I getting our sodas. This is a piece of our war chest."

"I appreciate it, but I've got about forty Gs with me."

"Then an extra quarter million ought to help out quite a bit," Ray said with a smile as he threw the bag in his friend's lap.

"Jesus," Henry said as he peered inside. He looked up at his friend. "You are serious."

"That's what I been telling you." / got his wheels turning now Ray said to himself. "Your estimate of the land value here was short by about half, and I sold off a chunk of it last year and banked it offshore. Money's not a problem. You're the idea man-you still think it's impossible?"

"Whoooo..." Henry said, exhaling. "This is a whole new ball game. Can't do it without getting a bunch of people to take the plunge, but..."

"But what?"

"But they don't have to be the first," Henry said slowly, then nodded his head. Ray remained silent and waited for him to explain what he meant.

"The kind of intelligent leaders we need are often motivated by two emotions, opposite sides of the same coin. You just showed that."

"Which two are those?"

"Inspiration's the big one. You think about what the Founders went through, when they could have taken the easy way out, it makes you want to be a better person. The other motivator is shame. Shame at how little you've done, always letting someone else cany the water. We tap in to those two sentiments, we might not need to ask for any help or give too many instructions. The people just might do all those things I said would be too hard for them. They won't do them based on just a verbal or written plea for action, but they just might be inspired by seeing someone else first."

"The two of us?" Ray asked. Henry shook his head.

"Need more than just us. You and I can kick it off, but we'll need one other person. Shouldn't have to get more than that, if you're serious about the bankroll." Henry stared into the distance, his eyes unfocused.

"Any ideas?"

"I think he's already joined up."

"I wasn't counting on the use of a jet," Henry said as they broke through 20,000 feet. "When did you get this thing?"

"Last year. An old guy like me can't get laid in Aspen unless he has at least one private jet. Bought the little Citation since it only needs one pilot."

"You normally go places on the spur of the moment like this? Pilot won't think anything of it?" Henry said softly in his friend's ear, Ray shook his head.

"Bill's an ex-drug pilot. Crashed in the Everglades and it cured him of his thirst for adventure, shall we say. Now he sells home furnishings in the off season, and flies for me when I want to go somewhere. He doesn't mind sitting around in motels or at the airport when we're on the ground. It gives him a chance to work on his proposal for a TV series."

"You're kidding."

"No, one of his friends in town hit it big that way, and Bill's convinced he can do better." "Hm. Maybe he can."

"Right. Anyway, to answer your original question, Bill thinks I'm going to look at some potential sites for strip shopping centers, on a swap deal. You're along as a second set of eyes. I told him I've got friends in all three cities, and I could stay an hour or a couple days in each place, depending on how things go. He's used to that." Ray saw his friend scowl faintly. "What's the matter?"

"I better pay attention to the approach speeds and bone up on the manual for this thing," Henry said. "It probably won't be a problem this trip, but unless your boy Bill ignores all forms of news media, he'll f igure it out before too long. Either that," Henry said with a big grin, "or he'll start to think one of us is awfully bad luck." He saw Ray's look.

"What, you think I'd crunch it?" Henry asked in mock indignation. "Come on-fortune favors the bold." He stood, stooping in the low cabin, and moved up to the righthand pilot's seat.

God, I hope so Ray Johnson thought as he stared at his friend's back. '*

Rush hour had not yet started when they arrived at the Tulsa airport. A quick look in the Yellow Pages gave Henry the name of a serious computer-supply store, and it took the cab driver less than fifteen minutes to get there. He left the meter running. A half hour after that, Ray and Henry were sitting at a table in a Benny's restaurant. Ray was drinking an iced tea while Henry attached the newly-acquired device to his laptop computer.

"What's that for?" Ray asked. He was looking at a small piece of equipment whose label said it was a Konnex Coupler.

"You mean what do normal people who aren't planning to start a war use them for?" Henry laughed. "They're big with anyone who takes his laptop out of the country and has to access a computer back home. Most places don't use modular jacks like we do here. Some guys will actually bring their tools and add a modular jack to their hotel system, but that can get you in trouble in a place like Mexico. Next thing you know, you're coughing up mucho mordida to the local federales.

"This widget takes the old-tech approach, sends the signal through the handset microphone. Much slower, but it works. It's like what insurance agents had in the early '80s. They'd carry this heavy thing into the customer's house. About the size of a suitcase, and it incorporated a typewriter keyboard and a printer. They'd jam his phone receiver into it, dial the number of the home office, and type in the stuff like age and gender and smoking status and how much face amount. Then the computer in the home office would figure the proposal and tell the printer what to print, all through the handset. Nobody uses them any more in this country-you get much faster and cleaner transmissions wiring in direct through the jacks."