MacArthur's Freehold

Chapter 30

Chapter 30 -- ZWRVCRMPMFEEVOQUL

Carter watched as Jessica worked with two of the trainers. They were wearing navy blue windbreakers, simulating police officers. One of them walked up to the car where she sat, window down and hands on the steering wheel at the ten and two positions. The other stood near the back of the car, one hand on his holstered gun. The 'cop' at the window began the usual procedure.

"May I see your license and registration please?"

"It's in my purse" Jessica said, nodding towards the passenger seat where it lay.

"OK, take it out."

Slowly, without turning her body, she reached over and retrieved the purse. Holding it up so he could easily see what she was doing, she retrieved the small folder containing the requested items, extracted the license and handed it to him. He examined it, then walked back to the other actor cop. A car painted to resemble a police car was parked behind the car Jessica was in, and he got in and sat for a while, while his partner walked around the vehicle where Jessica sat, looking it over, then returned to the 'police' car. The other 'cop' had emerged and the two stood talking for a few minutes.

After a while he returned to where Jessica was.

"Ma'am, would step out of the car, please?"

Jessica made a show of placing her purse back on the passenger seat, then slowly opened the door and got out.

"Turn around and put your hands on the car."

Jessica began to turn, to her left, blocking his view of what she was doing. As she completed the turn she bent slightly at the waist, lowering her shoulder and driving it upward into his chest. As they fell to the ground together with her on top, she thrust a small revolver under his chin. He went limp, arms outstretched, and lay still. The other actor drew his weapon and assumed a shooting stance.

"Don't move or I'll fire! Drop your weapon!'

Jessica turned her head to face him with a cool smile.

"Or what?" she asked. "Screw up and he's dead, and maybe me too, but that won't help him."

"OK, cut!"

That was Larry Driscoll, a battered old soldier who'd earned his look the hard way. He'd worn the green beret, but opted for retirement as soon as he was eligible for a pension. The idealistic young man who had enlisted after the Vietnam war was over never thought such a debacle would be repeated, only to find himself in a the same situation as those who had gone before. And with the ongoing destruction of the armed forces by politics and social engineering, he finished his twenty years and got out. Eventually he found his way into the freeholders, becoming part of Mesa Victor.

"All right" he said as Jessica and the two men came over to join the group of participants. "You all right, Ed?"

"I'm all right" said the man Jessica had just tangled with. "Pretty good shot though, even when I was expecting it."

He took off his vest, which absorbed most of the energy of the blow.

"Excellent timing, too" he said grinning at Jessica.

She smiled.

"I do my best."

"OK, kids" Larry said. "If that ever has to happen - and none of us ever want to find ourselves fighting the police, but if it all goes bad we will - one of the things you'll have to overcome is the natural reluctance to resist, or even attack, authority figures. We're all normal law-abiding people, and more than anything visible, a police uniform represents that. The problem is that when authority has gone bad it still looks the same.