A Patriotic Nightmare. Don E. Post

like thugs.”

      “And how did he define a thug?”

      “As a terrorist. His fear prevented him from saying too much, but he did finally whisper to my dad that they talked about getting millions of U.S. dollars worth of guns.”

      “And John Chudders attended!” Darren said aloud.

      Darren couldn’t sleep after Vasin’s call. The more he thought about the meeting, the more it seemed that the patriots were, in fact, setting up a support network among the world’s politically disgruntled. In his seventies, John Chudders had become a key spokesman for America’s Christian identity movement, a loose-knit organization of right-wing extremist groups. Darren wanted to know who else attended that meeting. At 11:00 p.m. he grabbed the phone and called a friend in U.S. Immigration Services.

      “Bob? Darren Hopkins here. Sorry to bother you so late. I need help. Can you go into your database and find some folks traveling to Thailand back in January? Probably left around January third.”

      “Sure. How soon do you need it?”

      “Well, can you get me something by eight in the morning?”

      “I assume this is really important.”

      “I promise you it is,” Darren said.

      “Okay. But you owe me big time.”

      “Okay. Anytime. Send me the info by email.” Darren gave him Chudder’s name and a list of another twenty-five key patriots that came off the top of his head. The FBI had aerial photos of Chudders’ community, hidden away and heavily fortified in the Davis Mountains of West Texas. Some photos showed armaments being unloaded over many months. And Darren’s reporter friend in Austin hinted that Chudders’ group derailed Amtrak’s Sunset Limited in the early morning of October 9, 1995. The wreck claimed the life of one Amtrak employee and injured hundreds of passengers. The reporter refused to share his source.

      The FBI also had photos, phone messages and other evidence showing religious zealots traveling between Chudders’ Davis Mountain enclave and other extremists’ encampments, such as the Aryan Nation’s hide-away in Idaho and groups in Washington, Montana, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Arizona, to name a few of the most infamous.

      The skinheads probably came from Germany, he mused. Darren had a New York Times article from April, 1995, in which a former German neo-Nazi leader with strong skinhead affiliations, stated that their racist propaganda and military training manuals came from right-wing groups in the United States.

      A noise in the hall roused Darren from his memories. He looked up to see Jo racing into the office dusting the snow off her hat, scarf and coat as she hung them in the closet.

      “Darren, you’re here earlier than usual.”

      “I really need to see Burcks before he gets tied up,” Darren answered.

      Just as Darren finished that statement, Burcks entered the office. He said, “You two seem to be in a good mood this morning.” Burcks put his hand on the doorjamb, turned back to Darren and said, “Let’s talk!”

      “Of course, I’ve been waiting to catch you.” Darren grimaced, grabbing his coffee cup and following the general to his office. He whispered to Jo, “I hope he’s not in a bad mood!”

      Burcks watched silently as Darren seated himself to the right of his desk. This morning Burcks seemed soft and extremely thoughtful. He almost whispered, and the usual hard look had disappeared. Darren had rarely seen him in such a relaxed mood. As Darren sat down, Burcks smiled slightly, and then said, “I went over that lengthy report you laid on my desk a few days ago. Seems like the crazies are up to something.”

      “General, I have a chilling update. We have evidence that our super patriots are getting outside help.”

      Burcks said, “How so?”

      “A Thai friend called last night. Some of our domestic dissenters have had a meeting with Islamic fundamentalists in northern Thailand in early January. Maybe they only shared strategies. But they may be setting up arms purchases. Maybe even coordinating terrorist acts on a global scale.”

      Burcks’ soft demeanor vanished. As he spoke, Darren noted the hard set jaw, the furrowed brow and narrowed eyelids. Burcks said, “That earlier report gave me heart burn.” He sighed, and in a more relaxed tone, said, “Okay, give me the whole story.”

      Darren reported his conversation with Vasin and the U.S. immigration report that twelve key super patriots left the country on January second and third. Reading from the email his friend in Immigration sent, Darren said, “They departed L.A. International en route to Hong Kong in teams of two over a two-day period. They spent one night at the Holiday Inn Harbor View in Kowloon. Then they vanished. I have yet to trace their travel from Hong Kong to Chiang Mai.” Darren shifted in his chair, looked up to make sure he had Burcks’ full attention. He continued, “They show back up in Hong Kong on January eleventh. This time they checked into the Holiday Inn. Again, they split into pairs and returned via Los Angeles airport on different flights.”

      “Let’s not waste time worrying about how these misfits got from Hong Kong to Chiang Mai,” the General said. “We need to know the results of the meeting. Let’s see if any of the other agencies have anything. We must be very, very careful how we proceed. Although this is certainly a national security issue, it has now taken an international tinge. As you know, these extremists have friends in high places. While not all are disloyal Americans, too many harbor hatreds and heretical religious views that often lead to a host of unnecessary deaths. There’ll probably be more federal building bombings. More day-care centers and churches blown up. God help us.”

      “Yeah,” Darren echoed.

      General Burcks continued, “We can’t gather up everyone we define as troublemakers, nuts and wackos, and put them in prison. Everyone’s waiting for us to make the slightest mistake. We look like a bunch of gutless, whimpering dummies right now. But we’ve got to follow the law to the letter.”

      “Yes, sir. It’s a difficult situation.”

      “What I wouldn’t give for an old fashion foreign conflict. Those were easier to deal with, at least in hindsight. See if you can find out the details of that meeting in Thailand?” softly asked the General.

      “Yes sir.”

      “And, by the way, you need to be sitting in on sessions of the new interagency domestic counter-terrorism task force run by F.B.I. Agents Wade and Carlson. We’ll share some of our data, but not all until we see how trustworthy the group is.”

      “Yes sir.”

      After a few moments Burcks softly asked, “How about that reporter friend of yours in Austin? He seems to have an interest in these crazies. Is he any help?”

      “He seems to keep up with a lot of these people, but I’ve promised him anonymity.”

      “That’s not a problem. Don’t forget to use the special phone number I gave you months ago to call me. It’s totally secure. A news media leak is the last thing we need.”

      “Yes sir.”

      “Uh, Darren, I think you ought to know that your friend Ann Jones is missing.”

      A knot developed in the pit of Darren’s stomach as Burcks’ words sank in. “What do you mean?”

      “I got a call from the Thailand CIA Station Chief last night. He informed me that they’ve lost touch with her. They’re concerned that she is not communicating through agreed upon channels. They know of your relationship and wanted to know if you’ve heard from her lately?”

      “Yes. She left a message on my answering machine last night.”

      “What did she say?”

      “She said she missed me, but couldn’t be in touch with me for an indeterminate time. She said some strange things were happening and she hoped my work was challenging.”