IBO, Brian R. Lundin [the ebook reader .txt] 📗

to Norfolk usually went deep-sea fishing in the ocean.
At the boat dock was Henry James, an older black man about fifty –five years old who had the weather beaten face of a man who had spent a lot of time outdoors. He was wearing a Marine Corp sweatshirt and khaki shorts with a small Marine Corp emblem on the bottom of right leg. James had once served as Tolland’s advisor and fishing buddy when he was Governor. Henry was one of the best cat fishermen the president knew. After Tolland was elected president, James retired and moved back home to Norfolk. James grew up in the area, fished the river as a boy, and knew all the catfish holes. James introduced Tolland to the lake and the special art of cat fishing. He was talking with another older Blackman who was sitting on the gunwales of an older model fifteen-foot motorboat. Henry was putting thirty pound test line on a heavy rod with he saw the black Buick’s containing the Secret Service Agents. When the vehicle stopped two of the agents quickly got out the car and looked around. Shortly a black Buick SUV pulled in front of the first vehicle and two more agents got out and after carefully looking around another agent helped President Tolland out.
“Hey, old man,” the president said affectionally while walking rapidly towards him.
“Hey, Mr. President,” James said with a broad smile.
“Say hello to Robert Pichard, my fishing and chess buddy.”
“Nice meeting you Robert,” the president said extending his hand as he approached his boat.
Robert Prichard was too astonished to say anything, buy finally, he said, “Nice meeting you sir,” and shook the president hand.
Two young attractive women jumped out the rear seats of the SUV and running past the president and the Secret Service Agents they hugged James warmly, kissing him on his cheeks.
“Hi Uncle James” the women said.
“Who are these movie stars?” James said looking fondly at the women.


“I don’t know, just a couple of, suppose to be fisher persons,” Tolland said smiling.
The president also gave James a warm hug.
“Look it going to be a nice night for fishing,” Tolland said excitedly.
“Yep, the weather been pretty good and the water should be nice and warm, just the way “old whiskers” like it.
“You’ll ready?” Henry said.
“Let’s go catch’em,” Carla said excitedly.
“Come join us,” President Tolland said to Robert.
“Thank you sir,” Robert said grabbing his fishing rod and getting aboard James Boat.
Henry’s thirty five foot pontoon boat and the forty-five horsepower outboard motor was purring invitingly at its mooring, next to it was a thirty-five foot red and blue Ranger boat for the Secret Service agents, its three hundred fifty horsepower motor was not purring but roaring, nearly drowning out the pontoon’s motor.
The president and Carla sat in the two fishing chairs in the bow of the pontoon while they Jeannie sat in the seat next to William who was at the helm. Robert cast off the mooring lines and jumped aboard. The sun was just starting to set when James expertly guiding the boat out of the mooring, with the Ranger pulling behind. The river turned and twisted it way around scenic hills and rocky bluffs. They passed three teenage boys on a rubber raft smoking something and Henry waived to another boater heading out. Henry pulled two cold Miller Light’s from the cooler and gave one to the president, Carla and Robert, Jeannie settled for a coke.
The cool breeze blowing off the Atlantic Ocean blew through Tolland hair and its slight salt spray danced on his face. He closed his eyes and listened to the song of a far away loon, trying to seduce a lover. The night air was refreshing and clean as the night sky changed from deep violet to dark ebony.
A meteor deep in the emptiness of space imprinted a brief spectacular arc on the darken sky and then was gone. Jeanne noticed a fish jump and its reentry into the water created more activity from its school. Carla looked at Henry and about to tell him when she realized it was something Henry saw every day. The quiet purring of the motor and the rippling of the water as the boat parted it added to the serenity. For the first time in months, President Tolland was relaxed. The president opened his eyes and came out of his semi-hypnotic state when he felt the boat slowing.
“The water temp is sixty degrees and the depth is eighteen feet and there is a lot of sunken trees and debris down there, that’s where old whiskers will be waiting for dinner, should be a good night” James said looking at his fish finder.
“Drop that bow anchor please Carla,” James said and Carla quickly pressed the release button on the automatic anchor.
The boat slowed finally and Henry maneuvered it carefully as it he could see old whiskers waiting for dinner.
Jeannie quickly did the same on the stern anchor. It was now totally dark but the full moon cast a peaceful glow on the still water; Henry switched on the mooring lights and watched as the Ranger Boat anchored a few away did the same. James got the medium action rods line with twenty-five pound test from the rod holders and gave one to Tolland and the girls.
“I have two day old chicken livers, fat juicy night crawlers and some special dough bait I experimenting with, name your pleasure,” James said smiling.
James lit four Coleman Lanterns and he and Robert placed them around the boat. After placing the lanterns, Robert rigged up the poles for the young women. The women watched as Robert tied a line with a heavy weight through one eye of a three-way swiffle he then tied a shorter line with a big hook on another eye, through the third eye he tied on the fishing line.
“This called a Wolf River Rig,” he said smiling.
“Ole whiskers are a bottom feeder and that heavy weight will take the line to the bottom but the bait will alternate between lying on the bottom and floating up a few inches.”
The girls decided to use the worms and deftly threaded two of them on the hook, Tolland decided to try the chicken livers; he held his breath as he treaded it on the hook.
Watching the president hold his breath while treading the spoiled, rancid chicken livers on the hook, Henry said, “Yep ole whiskers like that stinky stuff, the worse it stinks the better they like it.”
Jeanne and Carla lowered their lines over the side of the boat and when the heavy weight landed on the bottom, they reeled in a little. While tightening her line, there was a violent jerk on Jeanne pole. As the pole tip bended over she expertly set the hook and gave the reel more drag. The line shook as the fish tried to get free, but the twenty pounds test line held. When the line slackens, she slowly begins to reel it in. She kept the pole up and tightened the drag. Immediately Henry was by her side with a big net. When the fish broke the surface, it gave a violent shake before being scooped up by Henry.
“She’s a good one,” the president said with a big smile.
In three hours, they had boated twenty flat-head catfish, the smallest weighted eight pounds and the largest, who was caught by Carla weighted seventeen pounds.
“Ruth going to enjoy these,” Henry said as they headed back to the dock.
What Tolland didn’t know that after he became the president, the Department of Agriculture directed the Corp of Engineers to clean up the river and the surrounding grounds and asked the Virginia Department of Conservation to stock the lake with catfish, crappies and bluegills.
Chapter 54
“Good morning, Gentleman,” Vice President Warren said to the men who had assemble at his home.
“I have been directed by the president to chair a committee to find new resources for the camps, Bob Watson over at Housing has expressed a concern over overcrowding at the camps and he predicts that this overcrowding will reach crisis proportions in about five years, our task is to identify where we can build or renovate new camps. I suggest for the time being we concentrate our efforts on the western states, both north and south and do not forget Alaska. These states have a lot of open land and many National Parks and Forests. The East Coast states are heavily urban. Mark, why don’t you take Montana, Utah and Idaho: Dennis, the Dakotas, Kansas and Minnesota: Torres, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas and Douglas, Alaska’ we will meet again in two months, I have a final solution for this problem and I will need your support, thank you,” the vice president said leaving his conference room.
Lorine research revealed that there were approximately sixty million Blacks and Hispanics in the Continental United States. There were approximately twenty million Black and Hispanic males between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five as of the 2040 census. Of the twenty million who were eligible for the camps, only about five million were actually in them, according to Don Douglas, the Director of the Safe Street Agency. Many of the young eligible men had not been counted in the census and subsequently did not report as required or picked up.
Vice President Warren awakened from the dreams that had plagued him for years. He noticed that the trembling in his hands and his seizures were getting worst and the medication was not helping. He closed his eyes and remembered that night long ago when he was a young man in his hometown of Stuggart, Arkansas, he could still smell the barbeque ribs at Sarge’s Blues Club and the sweet smell of the crack cocaine that oozing from the pores of his soon to be attackers.
He remembered the raspy voice, “What you want white boy.” “Nothing” Warren remembered saying, “I’m going home.”
Warren remembered the numbing blow to the back of his head and how his entire body hurt. He remembered awaking in the hospital. His mother and father were standing at the foot of his bed, tears in their eyes.
He felt the warm sweat traveling down his forehead, into his eyes and mouth. He staggered out of the bed and using the walls for support he made it to the bathroom, got the seizure pills out of the medicine cabinet, and quickly swallowed two of them as he sat on the toilet seat. He put a cold towel on his face and it helped relieve the headache and absorbed the sweat. He took out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply as he leaned back on the toilet, he felt better now. After inhaling deeply again, he threw the cigarette in the toilet, flushed it, and slowly walked back to his bedroom for another fretful and nightmare filled sleep.
Chapter 55
Two years after the new law mandating the camps the violence associated with drugs returned and Ibo was again flooding the streets of the country. Once again, President Tolland and