[b]Nashville, Tennessee[/b]


"I agree with y'all that something needs to be done for Negro rights on a federal level."

James Calhoun sat with Isiah Wolde and his daughter Sarah while the Vice President of the United States spoke. The meeting was being held in the conference room next door to Tennessee governor James Fogle's office. Fogle protested Reed bringing Wolde and his followers in the capital, let alone the governor's own office space, but Vice President Reed shut him up with a curt word and sent him back to his office.

"Now I want you to know President Norman agrees with what you're doing. He sent me down here to meet with y'all and to hear you out. He'd come in person, but matters in Washington are taking his time."

"We've seen the news," said Wolde. "Everyone up there seems to be losing their minds about this whole African war thing."

"They call you the Ethiopian, yes?" Reed asked. "Spent some time there before coming back here. I see several of you are wearing Pan-African flags on your lapels. I guess I know what you all make of the war."

"Naked aggression, Mr. Vice President, nothing more than imperialist greed from Spain. I believe the president partially agrees with me based on his comments to Congress a few months ago, but yet he seems to delay on sending aid to my adopted homeland."

"It's not that simple," Reed said with another grin. "Legislation and bills take time and debate before they can be passed."

"We know the legislative process, Mr. Vice President," Sarah said with a hint of sadness behind her voice. "We know how politicians delay and kill bills, how they horse trade and cut deals while people suffer. The people of Africa are facing war while the colored people here face oppression..."

Reed started to reply, but Sarah raised a hand to cut him off.

"We support the people in Africa because at least they're able to fight back."

"Mr. Vice President," Wolde said, placing an arm on Sarah's shoulder. "This young woman here has been with us since the very beginning, as has her father here on the other side of me. James, show Vice President Reed your mouth."

James opened wide, showing Reed his mouth of metal wiring. 

"What happened?" Reed asked.

"A Mississippi policeman groped his daughter. He thought he was in his rights as a father to protect his daughter."

"The policeman had other ideas," James said through his wire tightened mouth. "Ideas that involved a billy club and my jaw."

"Every day," said Wolde. "Mr. Reed, every day the millions of colored people in this country are in a struggle. It's the struggle to get up every morning, to take a job that pays a fraction of what a white man earns, to play nice and mind your manners and not look to long at the white folks if you don't want any trouble. The stores take our money, but they won't let us come in the front door. This government asks us to fight for freedom, but we can't fight for our own. A hundred plus years after the end of slavery and we're still on our knees."

James saw the emotional look on Reed's face. The vice president swallowed hard and nodded.

"We want to rise up, Mr. Vice President. We don't want to stand above white people, we want to stand as equals. Is that so much to ask for, sir?"

"It isn't," Reed said after he cleared his throat. "It's goddamn basic decency. I promise you, all three of you, that when I get back to Washington I will do all I can to see some kind of civil rights bill passed by this Congress."

"We've heard the promises before, Mr. Vice President," said James. "For years we been hearing promises. What we haven't seen is follow up on those promises."

"You will this year, by God," Reed said softly. "You will this year."


-----


[b]The White House
Washington D.C.[/b]

A secretary escorted Clay Foulke and the rest of the Democratic House leadership through the halls of the West Wing. Behind Clay was House Majority Leader Harry Hayes and Chief Whip Jennifer Armstrong. Clay glanced behind him and saw Harry and Jenn had that nervous look that came when you were called to the Oval Office. For his part, Clay had become used to it. It got old after the sixth time he had to come up here and get his marching orders from the General. As much as Clay wanted the Speaker gavel, he wasn't too happy about playing second banana to the president. Because of President Fernandez's political leanings, Russ Reed's Senate Majority Leader job meant he had been the top Democrat in the country. He got to dictate their legislative stategy in the Senate and House and to hell with the White House. Now with Reed as VP Clay had been looking forward to being his own man... but now President Norman made sure he couldn't scratch his balls without presidential approval.

"Clay," the president stood as the three Congressmen entered.

President Norman's company for the meeting included Secretary of State Lilian Mather and Secretary of Defense Phillip Dalton. Clay recognized the young woman at Mather's side. A State Department wonk who served as Mather's right-hand woman. Handshakes and greetings were exchanged before the seven men and women settled into the couches and chairs in front of the Oval Office desk.

"Thank you all for meeting me," President Norman said with a look around the room. "I know you all have busy schedules, so thank you for taking the time to come here. I'll cut straight to the matter. This bill that Congressmen Lewis introduced, the foreign aid one. Where is it at?"

"In committee," said Clay. "It's in the appropriations committee under debate."

"Who is the chair of that committee?" Mather asked.

"Walsh out of Oregon's Third District," Jen answered. "Democrat, of course, in his fifth term. Caucuses with the rest of the western liberals."

"Like every Democrat on that committee, He's indebted to the leadership for his assignment," Clay said with a nod towards Jen. "The bill dies in committee if we say so, Mr. President."

Norman nodded and leaned back in his chair, his hands wrapped behind his head. While he was lost in thought, the old admiral took up the thread. 

"What are the chances of the bill getting out of committee if you don't back it?"  Dalton asked. 

"The Democratic majority is too overwhelming," Harry replied in his thick Southern drawl. "A lot of the people on Appropriations want to stay there. Pissing us off will see them swiftly removed. And hell, even if it made it out of that committee the Rules Committee would hamstring it with rules and bury it on the calendar. It wouldn't see the light of day until the year 2000."

"Let it pass," Norman finally said. He pulled his hands down and leaned forward in his chair. "The story is already out on the bill, so we look bad if we try to bury it. Pass it through the House. The Republicans might try to claim credit but don't let them. Lewis isn't affiliated with Republican leadership and from all accounts he did this on his own accord. Lewis gets credit for introducing it, but we get credit for making it happen. The Republicans can either fight it, which make them look petty, or go along with it which makes them look weak."

"What about the Senate?" Clay asked.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," said the president. "I'll get the Senate leadership into the Oval Office when Vice President Reed returns from the South and we'll work it out."

The young woman next to Mather leaned forward and whispered in her ear. She nodded before addressing the president.

"Sir, what about the repercussions of this bill? First off, we're sending aid to a country that hasn't really asked for it. Secondly, this may provoke action from Spain."

Norman ran a long, slender finger under his chain and took in the Secretary of State's information.

"Does State still have people in Addis Ababa?"

"We have an ambassador and skeleton crew there, yes sir."

"Have them put out feelers to the government. I figure they'll be happy with any help they can get, but if you want confirmation then we can get it."

"And the other thing?" Dalton asked. "Spain?"

The president let a small smile escape his usually stoic demeanor. "Spain is striking into the heart of Africa while China and the Third International are getting into the conflict. They have bigger fish to fry, Phil."

Dalton and Norman shared a smile and a knowing look between them. Clay remembered that both men served during the two wars, wars fought against Spain amongst other foes. If the war against Spain was going to become a dog pile, Clay imagined two old soldiers like Norman and Dalton would relish the chance get in a few kicks Spain while it was down.


-----


[b]Rome, Georgia[/b]


"A vote for Jim Sanderson is a vote for Georgia!"

The crowd at the political rally cheered as the MC whipped them up into a frenzy. Russell Reed stood behind the stage with Jim Sanderson while the MC continued. Reed had his chief of staff and a few secret service agents that shadowed him everywhere while Sanderson's entourage included his campaign staff and a few movers and shakers from this part of Northwest Georgia. Sanderson's glad-handing of the local bosses was part of getting elected in the state. The governor of Georgia appointed Sanderson to fill Russell's unfinished term in the Senate after the presidential election. The appointment was a temporary one, the permanent replacement to be named in a special statewide election due to take place in a week.

Georgia, like all the South, was solidly Democratic. As long as there was a little D beside the name on the ballot, you got elected. The problem with the special election was Governor Taliaferro made it an open one regardless of party. Jim was just one of three different Democrats running for the seat. Everyone knew the governor did it because one of the campaigners included himself. His term as governor was due to expire soon. Taliaferro, in his second term, was barred by the state constitution to run for a third term. He needed employment and eyed the Senate as that place.

"Fuck Taliaferro," Sanderson said into Russell's ear. "Making me have to work for this shit. "

"He's trying to upend us," Russell said back into Sanderson's ear. "Now that I'm VP, he thinks that means he can take over control of the state. He smells blood in the water, and you need to show him that it's his own blood, Jim. We need to remind that asshole who controls Georgia."

"Are y'all ready for Senator Sanderson's good friend?!" The MC yelled.

"My cue," Russell said as he stifled a yawn. He'd come to Rome straight from Nashville, riding overnight and getting little sleep. The still had five more campaign stops to make in Northern Georgia before the day was through.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome your former Senator and current Vice President of the United States... Russell Reed!"

Reed bounced up the stage and on to it with his arms spread to the crowd. He smiled wide and waved big in the way the rubes usually ate up. There was applause, but he could read the crowd right away and tell something was wrong. There was an uneasy buzzing amongst the people he didn't like. The applause died away quickly and left Russell standing on the stage while murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Thank y'all, thank y'all so much. It's good to be back in Georiga, especially here in Rome. First time I been here in at least five years. Now... I want to talk to y'all about Jim Sanderson. Y'all know..."

Russell trailed off when he heard the hissing and the boos. They started at the back before gaining and overpowering him. He tried to calm the crowd, to take back the initiative, but failed. Scowling, he stepped off the stage and heard a few chants of the word "Nigger lover."

"What the fuck is going on out there," Russell raged to Sanderson and his campaign staff.

Suddenly, one of Sanderson's men shoved a paper in his hand. It was a copy of that day's [i]Atlanta Constitution[/i] with a front page story about Nashville. The strapline mentioned his secret meeting with Wolde and the other protestors. 

"We should have known about this before you came here, Mr. Vice President," one of Sanderson's staff member said.

"Fogle," Russell said to himself. "That goddamn son of a bitch told the press about that meeting."

He ripped the paper in two and tossed the shreds to the ground. He felt his face turning red with rage while the booing of the crowd intensified.

"No offense, Russ," Sanderson said cooly. "But the best thing you can do for me right now is get the hell out of Georgia and as far away from me as possible."

-----


[b]Chicago[/b]


Johnny Leggario smoked a cigarette and walked around the Cheetah Room. The place was hopping with the usual crowd of middle-aged losers and college boys drooling over the girls. Sinful Sindy danced on the main stage, a pair of pasties covered her nipples but showed everything else. She wiggled her ample behind along with the uptempo blues number. The rapt audience tossed bills on to the stage and cheered her on. Johnny finished off his cigarette and lit another on the way to the bar. Mel the bartender handed him his usual Jack and Coke that was mostly Jack. He nursed it and watched the crowd going about its business. 

The idea of strip clubs always struck him as bizarre. It was nothing but pure titillation with no resolution. Horny men coming here was like a starving man getting a bowl of wax fruit. Just get a hooker and be done with it, he figured. It cost a lot less and had a lost less bullshit attached. He couldn't complain, though. The Cheetah Room was easily the most successful skin joint on the Southside. The girls were teases but they looked damn good doing it. Johnny thought as much as he saw Sindy stretch her lean body across the metal pole. The place could run legit and make money hand over fist, but laundering the Outfit's money and pushing Bobby C's dope and coke put them into the stratosphere of money making. And for his troubles Johnny got a twenty percent cut. 

Johnny's take in the joint was more than enough for him. Lots of wiseguys ended up dead or in the clink because they got greedy and stupid. Johnny skimmed off the top of the Cheetah Room's take, but that was expected. He took just enough to not arouse suspicion. A guy who took too much got killed, and a guy who didn't take at all raised a lot of red flags. An honest man in this profession was a weirdo. Johnny made sure his skim was right in the middle and enough to keep anyone asking any questions.

"Johnny," Jeff the bouncer said as he came up. "Guy wants to see you."

Johnny took his drink and followed Jeff towards the front. Just inside the front door were two men in ill-fitting suit. One was short and fat and Johnny didn't recognize him. He had thick glasses that made his eyes look giant, and his hair was cut short almost down to being bald. The other was gray-headed and lean. His hair was slicked back with grease and he wore a trim mustache that tried to distract people from the pockmarks on his face. The pockmarked one Johnny knew.

"Mick Mahoney," he said with a quick handshake. "Your Irish fuck, you owe me six grand. Give me one goddamn good reason not to let my guy Jeff take you out back and beat you until you piss blood?"

"Johnny--," Mick said with a nervous laugh. "Johnny, I got a way to pay you back. I--" he motioned towards the fat man. "We have something you might be interested in."

Johnny sighed and checked his watch. Fuck it, he thought. Nothing else to do tonight. He led the two men into the back offic and sat behind his desk while the other two men sat down in the folding chairs opposite him. Mick pulled out a cigarette while the short fat man got out a cigar.

"Where's your manners, Mick?" Johnny asked. "Introduce me to your friend."

"Yeah, this is Prussian Joe."

"Johann," the fat man said in a thick German accent. "They started calling me Prussian Joe in Joliet."

"Did time in the clink?" Johnny asked.

"Ja. Five year stretch for armed robbery." 

"Fascinating," Johnny said as he looked at his fingernails. "Now explain why I shouldn't beat your ass for just affiliating with this deadbeat Malone?"

"Mr. Legarrio," Prussian Joe said as he laid his hands on the desk. "Mick has brought me to you because he says you are a man who is a man of action. How true is this?"

"Depends on the action," Johnny said non-committedly. "And depends on my cut from said action."

"Prussian Joe and I were cellmates," said Mick. He nodded as he spoke, eager to talk fast and please. "A few years back when I went away for that bunko beef? Joe and I got to talking and he told me his plan after I told him about my connections. I got out and he came to see me when he got out."

"What plans?" Johnny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The First National Bank Downtown," said Prussian Joe. "I have a plan to rob it. It's been in place for sometime, we have only to act. If we pull it off, we can walk away with at least ten million. What do you think of that type of action, Mr. Legarrio?"

Johnny finished his smoke and took his sweet time finding another one and lighting it up before answering.

"I think I'd like to hear more."