46 / The Prize is Near
Dustin Moltinova sat beneath the antlers of the huge deer's head on the wall in his office on his compound on the outskirts of San Antonio. To the outside world, he was an oilman and a heavy equipment manufacturer. Very few people knew that he was also a revolutionary. And, lately, it looked like his revolution would be getting off to a pretty good start.
He pulled his cowboy hat lower over his forehead and set his feet on top of the desk.
He had watched the entire Senate Interior Committee hearing on his computer to make sure Senator Rory Phillips had done what he promised to do. He had, and he had also later called Dustin to let him know that the Committee was closing down the investigation into armed paramilitary groups operating outside of the government's oversight. Thus, Dustin was able to continue slowly acquiring the military's surplus and out-of-date vehicles and equipment. Of course, acquiring guns, bullets, and the like were no problem at all. He personally knew the owners of several gun manufacturing companies and they shared his views. They were all too glad to help.
The only concern he had was that a few of his sellers had reported that another agency had been buying up surplus equipment and stocking up on guns and ammo at nearly the same rate he was. Dustin had checked and double-checked to make sure it wasn't one of his shadow companies. It wasn't. He remained very concerned.
Fortunately, he still had the ear — or perhaps, the mouth — of Nehemiah's sister, Melanie Dunn — a very powerful woman indeed. She had been keeping him abreast of her brother's whereabouts, and when she informed him that he was heading to Philadelphia, Dustin decided it was time to make his move. So he dispatched one of his most well-trained agents to the historical city. And now he was waiting to find out the results of that foray.
There was a knock to the door of his office, and Dustin took his feet off the desk and waited for the door to open. A man, bald and broad-chested with wide eyes like an ox, came in.
"Commander," he said. He had a voice that sounded younger than his middle-aged appearance would suggest.
"You come empty-handed, Gordon?" said Dustin frowning a little.
"Maybe empty-handed," said Gordon. "But not empty-headed." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper and set it on the desk. Dustin recognized it was in Gordon's own handwriting.
Gordon shut the door behind him and sat down in the chair across the desk from Dustin. "I know where the document is," he said.
"Are you sure?" said Dustin leaning across the desk.
"Pretty sure."
"Then tell me how you came by this knowledge."
"Yes, sir," said Gordon launching into the story of how he flew to Philadelphia, tracked down the only member of the Sunrise Society who actually resided in the city, robbed him of his identifying documents, and impersonated him at the meeting.
Dustin got a kick out of that. He laughed and pounded the table with his hand. "What was his name?"
"George Felleck," said Gordon.
"Then what happened?" said Dustin.
"As soon as I figured out that the Correction was hidden in the caverns of central Pennsylvania, I left as quietly as I could."
"You left before the meeting was over?" said Dustin in shock.
"I know, it sounds stupid, but I was thinking that we might get a head start on — what's his name? — Nehemiah, yes. We could get a head start and retrieve it before they did. Besides, once they discovered my early exit, they would likely be thrown off schedule wondering what happened. It would set them behind a few hours at least."
