Firepower, John Cutter [best summer reads .txt] 📗

didn’t say Actually, white Europeans got their number characters, much of their math and science and engineering from the Arabs and Spanish. And we borrowed a good deal of our chemistry from the Chinese — who had a developed civilization before Western Europe did. Then there was all the stuff we learned from the Egyptians. A great deal of western culture came from the Bible — the first part written by Jews, the second part written by Jewish Christians. Europe was a melting pot — Professor.

Instead, Vince pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, as if he agreed with Gustafson.

Leaning closer, lowering his voice a little more, Gustafson said, “You must know that Western Civilization is under threat.”

Vince thought, Yeah, it’s under threat from guys like you.

He knew that “Germanic and Anglo-Saxon cultures created civilization” was code for “White People created everything good”. It was white nationalist euphemism, employed when recruiting new people. They didn’t get into the racial epithets, the outright Jew-hating, the eugenics and the Holocaust denialism right out in public. That would draw the wrong kind of attention.

Vince just nodded. And said, “Sure it’s under threat. But what are you going to do about it?”

“We will create a new homeland for our own people, Vince,” Gustafson said earnestly, now speaking in a whisper. “To do that we need to be strong, and willing to fight, if it comes to that. You’d be a great asset if you came on board. But the background I have on you, while detailed in some ways, gives me no clear sense of your philosophy, your political leanings…”

Vince frowned but said nothing. He had always voted as an independent. He didn’t talk about politics online. He had worked too long in the covert world to commit that intel sin. The less people knew about you, the better.

“So first, Vince,” Gustafson went on, “we have to know if we can trust you.”

“And how do you figure on making that determination?”

“You’ll have to come to our base, unarmed, and begin your re-education…”

“If you’ve got the guts,” Colls put in.

Vince gave him a long, flat look. “Seem like I was short on guts, out there on the trail… Mac?”

Colls’ hands tightened into fists on the table top.

Gustafson sighed. “Mac — do be quiet. I don’t think this man’s courage is an issue. Vince here is not stupid. He doesn’t take foolish risks. He doesn’t know if he can trust us.”

“Very good, Professor,” Vince said. “You’re exactly right. I got on the wrong side of your people. Doesn’t seem smart to let myself be surrounded by them.”

“Of course. I give you my personal guarantee — my word! — that no one will try to… to ambush you. You won’t be attacked. You’ll be unarmed, but unrestrained.”

“I keep my knife. Your men are packing major heat. I think they’ll be safe. Just think of the knife as a — a good luck talisman. I’m never without it. It’s on me now.”

“Is it?” Gustafson frowned. “I didn’t see it.”

“It’s under my coat. The knife comes with me.”

Gustafson hesitated, and then nodded.

They shook hands on it. “We’ll pick you up, right here, after breakfast tomorrow, if that’s agreeable to you. Say 9:00 a.m.”

“I’ll be here.”

Gustafson nodded once, briskly. “Let’s go, men.”

They all got out of the booth and headed toward the door, Colls casting a dark look over his shoulder.

Vince grinned at him, waggling his fingers in a jovial goodbye.

The waitress came over and said, “Another Coca-Cola?”

“Sure. You have wi-fi here?”

“Yep, we just got it a month ago. Boss thinks it’s going to help business. It doesn’t. The password is ‘Eat at Pats’.”

“Going to get my laptop from my saddlebag.”

She looked at him impishly, trying to hold his gaze. “A saddlebag? You rode a horse here?”

“Sure. The kind with two wheels.”

*

Next morning, as he was finishing his breakfast at Pat’s, Vince opened his laptop and reread the pages he’d found about Gustafson. Inheritor of wealth from his grandfather’s tobacco plantations and father’s lucrative investment in cigarette companies… Wrote his doctoral treatise on Nietzsche… Taught Germanic myth studies and third-level German language classes… Published a paper showing that German culture is heavily influenced by Norse mythology… His book Concentration Camps Reconsidered led to his dismissal from Florida State University… Was on the David Duke for President Committee… Attended meetings of Identity Evropa and chairs a white nationalist “Identitarian” group, the Germanic Brethren… Organized a group of people who unfurled banners over freeways, reading “It’s Alright to Be White”… Investigated by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms for unregistered guns… Charges dropped, journalist suggests Judge was bribed… Journalist found dead, supposed plane crash.

Vince looked at his watch. Almost nine. He put the cash on the table to pay for his meal and the tip, packed the laptop in its case, and took it out to the trail bike.

The autumn day was misty and cool, smelling of pines. He put the laptop in the saddlebag and straddled the bike just as two vehicles rolled into the parking lot. In the lead was a restored 1950s-era US Army Jeep, painted in green and brown cammie colors. Mac Colls was driving, with a big, wide-shouldered blond man sitting beside him. The man had a short blond beard on chunky face. Both men wore paramilitary uniforms, round green field caps and aviator sunglasses. Behind them came a glossy black Humvee. Shaun drove the Humvee, and the red-haired man at his side wore paramilitary uniforms and field caps. In the back was Gustafson, wearing a uniform. He had four stars on each shoulder.

Colls pulled up beside Vince and Gustafson said, “Fall in behind us.”

Vince nodded and revved the bike. The jeep moved on, Vince steering the Harley around it. They drove out to the highway, the Humvee close