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[Continuing chapter 12; this is another long one, and concludes this week]
“Congratulations, Mister President,” Hopkins said. “It looks as though everyone on the list is in our custody, and the city is secure.” Hopkins took a long swallow from the bottle he held, then offered it to Reynolds.
Reynolds shook his head. “Please don’t call me president,” he said. “That remains to be decided.” It’s the one part of my plan I haven’t confided to Mister Walker, he thought, and felt a small tremor at his audacity. Or was it foolishness? Walker could be a very nasty man. “And not everyone’s in custody. Secretary Travis hasn’t been brought in yet.” I should stop calling him “Secretary,” he thought. The man’s a wanted criminal, and deserves no respect. “Any more word on that?”
“Sorry, Reynolds, but no.” Hopkins took another drink. “We’ve got a couple of the Rangers out looking for him, but I didn’t think you’d want any more sent.”
“You’re right. We have to assume that he’s gotten clean away, in which case he’ll be trying to raise support for an attempt to retake the city.”
“Will the other regiments accept us?” Hopkins asked.
“I assume so. They’re soldiers, and will do as they’re told so long as they’re not much inconvenienced.” Reynolds sighed. “An almost perfect day,” he said. “Only four dead, and only one cabinet member unaccounted for. I suppose it’s churlish of me to complain about falling just short of perfection. But still I wish you’d been able to take Travis.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Hopkins said. “After all, there’s just one of him, and everyone believes he was selling the country to the British for his own gain. What can he possibly do?”
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Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve
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