For All Nails #165: And the Walls Came Down
by Mike Keating
- And the walls came down all the way to hell
- Never saw them when they're standing
- Never saw them when they fell
- -- The Traveling Wilburys, Tweeter and the Monkey Man
The blue '64 Galloway moved serenely down the street to the east of the CNA office building. From the back seat, Julius Bauch looked out of the windows resentfully at the building. "I will be so glad to see that f--king building disappear," he muttered.
In the driver's seat, Brian Donaldson shook his head. "Now, Julius, you know that's not going to happen. This is a Black Rock operation. When it goes off, you and the Endicott branch are going to need deniability. You can't be running the revolution hereabouts from a cell. I guarantee you, the first place they'll look is their own backyard."
Harold Pickett was in the front passenger seat. "Hold on. I thought you said this was to get everyone's attention and rally the people to us." As Pickett said this, he snapped a picture of the building, the sixth one he had taken.
"It is," replied Donaldson, "but when we let it be known who did it, we'll need to do it so they can't get us for it. If they don't know what individuals are involved, then no one can be arrested for it."
Now Bauch was dubious. "Supposing they just declare the Brotherhood a seditious or even treasonous organization?"
"I'm willing to take that chance," Brian said. "We should get a measure of good press from making sure no one dies. The kind of good press to keep the Johnnies from cracking down on the people's darlings of the moment. If not, I'm also hoping the CBI does something so crazy that we'll be seen as treated unjustly, which'll also help us out."
The loke turned away from the building. It had already turned away from the building four times that morning. Donaldson was planning on using a different loke for the actual bombing, lest anyone remember this one. In any event, the Galloway was going to be abandoned in a different section of Endicott, and the movement would never use it again. That wasn't a problem; it was a cheap used loke.
- 18 April 1975
- 1:33 AM
Donaldson had stocked this van with high-grade explosives. Enough that he had feared for his life driving from Black Rock. Pickett was coming by a separate route in the getaway loke. The two of them were supposed to meet a block away from the building ... yes, there it was! A gray, battered-looking Earnest sedan. He pulled into the spot next to it. Not hard since these two places were the only parking spaces occupied in sight. What an idiotic place to put this building. But it works for us.
He walked up to Pickett, who was leaning against the side of the sedan. "Aren't you worried about muggers?" Brian asked.
Harold snorted. "I've got a knife on me," he answered, and pulled it out. It looked fearsome; the blade was six inches long. "And I was the hand-to-hand champ at the AUSM Academy my senior year. Besides, I'm not even sure there'd be any here; it doesn't look like there's a wide choice of victims."
Brian handed him a tranquilizer gun. "Let's go. The back door is on this side. One shot from this will keep someone out for two hours." The two of them walked to the office building.
Brian knocked on the back door twice, paused, and then knocked twice more. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged guard. "Come on," the man said. "There's two other guards; they're both in the front lobby."
The three of them walked into the lobby with the guard in the lead. "Jerry, these are maintenance guys. They showed me their work order, said they were supposed to come in the middle of the night when their work won't disturb anyone's stuff."
One of the two men at the front desk looked up. "Sure thing, Bob, do they know where they're goi- URK!" Brian's tranquilizer dart hit him in the chest. Jerry stared dumbly at it, not even moving for the alarm button, and then he keeled over. Harold's target did try to hit the button, but couldn't get past Jerry before losing consciousness himself.
"Good," exclaimed Harold. "What about the cameras?"
"The recording units went out about 10 minutes ago. If anyone manages to recover any vitatapes, they won't show anything useful," Jerry told them.
"Good, help us with these bodies."
The three of them moved the two sleeping guards to the loke, then drove ten blocks away and left the men in a rundown park. Brian looked at Bob and told him, "I'm sorry, Bob, but we're going to have to put you out too. We can't have them thinking you were in on it." Bob nodded understandingly as the dart hit him.
The drive back was uneventful. The two of them got out of the loke and into the van, which they then drove up to the now totally empty office building. Harold looked at it; he wanted to remember it well. "Good choice on the date, by the way. April 18th."
"Thanks, Harold. It seemed so obvious after I thought of it, the bicentennial of the Rebellion beginning and all. Two hundred years ago, the British came by sea. Now we come by land. But this no killing thing is just for publicity. When the time for the Revolution comes, we won't hesitate to wipe the Johnnies off the continent. You know what Jefferson said."
"Oh yes," Harold replied, "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. I know the quote well."
The van was parked by the front door this time, and they got out. Donaldson went around to the back of the van and opened the doors to get at the timer. He set it for ten minutes. Then they walked briskly back to the loke and drove off. Donaldson checked his watch. "2 AM. We got all that done in less than half an hour. Nice." A couple of minutes later, they heard a loud bang in the distance behind them.
Forward to FAN #166 (Harold Pickett): I Heard the News Today.
Forward to 8 April 1975: La Reforma Politica.
Return to For All Nails.