Beyond the Night Road 2

A spy espionage thriller that is set in the early 1970's.

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4. Beyond the Night Road-Part Four

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Part II

August-September, 1972

***

Moira Westwood shook her head. 

"Everyone's leaving the Nixon Government", she stated. She smoked a cigarette in dismay. Neil Diamond was playing on record player. She shook her head, as the bright lamp illuminated her pale face. She gripped onto the staircase with her left hand; she waited until the embers of the burning flames went out. Alan Westwood, her husband of six years, stared at the television. "Nixon is going to leave soon", he stated. He wore a white shirt, black, flared, trousers, a brown belt, grey socks, and black shoes on his huge, six foot three, feet. On his right, middle, finger was a wedding ring. Both of them were twenty-seven years old. As the music ended, Moira focused her attention on the weekly meeting that was on Monday, August 4, 1972, at six o'clock PM. Suddenly she saw President Nixon was looking overly anxious. As they ate their Sunday roast dinner in the spacious Dining Room, the Grandfather clock chimed. Moira gripped her silver fork in her right hand, and knife. As they ate in the silence, Nixon was speaking to the voters. "I am eternally grateful to the voters of America to elect me as President of the United States; I am grateful to have to answer any questions about Watergate, China, and Vietnam. It's not my time to leave; it's my time to re-asses the important problems across this fine country...including crime, feminist views on handling women's matters...and so on. My Cabinet, as you know, will enforce all laws. Yes, there were bugs in The White House, but it's a matter of America's National Security...And it's classified to the public, for your own protection...". Moira shook her head. "What can we do with a crooked President in The White House?", she asked her husband. "We'll vote him out. Now let's enjoy our dinner, honey", he answered her. And they nodded, while they watched the news.

***

Harold Scott Moore, III, panicked. He was under immense pressure to believe in the idea America was dominant; he was drinking beer when the dark road's blackened dirt, stained his flared trousers. He ignored it, as he pondered why America was going downward into the deep abyss of life. He scrunched the beer can, then he flung it into the trash bin. He saw several soldiers from Fort Worth, Texas, marching down Apple Road. Harold, who was a hippie, left school in January of 1959. He was ten year's old then. The beginning of the nineteen sixties meant a huge change in thinking that meant, under President Kennedy's America, life was a means to escape from the woes of the World; the assassinations of Kennedy, Senator Bobby Kennedy, the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Muslim leader, Malcolm X, in 1968, changed the country forever. Harold saw man land on the moon in 1969, and, by January of 1970, America was different. By 1972, Harold was twenty-three. He was older, and wiser. He walked past the Texas Artillery Range. Written in bold letters were the words: WARNING: FIRING RANGE. KEEP OUT. AUTHORIZED PEOPLE ALLOWED ACCESS ONLY. Signed, Major Fred Olsen, Jr. Harold stopped walking. One of the soldiers, who was holding a brown air rifle in his right hand, aimed it at his head. "WHOA! I'M HERE FOR TRAINING, MAN". The soldier dropped the rifle downward. "Over there to Section 3b, with the other new soldiers". Harold nodded. He followed the instructions, and was prepared for a job in the United States Army.

***

Lynda Price was kissing her boyfriend Tom Peters. She smiled. "Are we alone?", she asked him. He nodded. "Yeah, we're safe. This isn't like California, or San Francisco. This is Austin, Texas, babe", he answered her. He was used to the warnings since the newspapers covered the Zodiac attacks in nineteen sixty-eight, and nineteen sixty-nine. Lynda shook her head. "Are you getting a job in Washington, DC?". Tom nodded. "Journalism is a career for awhile. I had to go to Vietnam for two years. There wasn't any kind of pleading from the Government; they kind of forced me into service, once I left Montana. Living in Texas was a godsend, since we met during the nineteen seventy Christmas party", he said. Lynda nodded. She was about to kiss him again when they were interrupted by a dark van driving down Forbes Road...slowly. As they cast a nervous twitch in their eyes, the van drove past them. Lynda breathed a sigh of relief; Tom breathed in harder, deeper. Suddenly a man opened the front door. He stood over six foot, and was two hundred pounds. He knocked on the driver's-side door with his clammy, left, hand. "You need to leave now", he threatened. Tom shook his head. "Why?", he asked him. "This is a reserved area for President Nixon", he answered. Lynda shook her head. "Nixon. But this place is for every couple who aren't doing anything illegal, you bastard". The man grinned maliciously. "The President has ordered all Americans out of the area that's near his campaign office, that's in Austin, Texas". Lynda shook her head. "We'll go. Come on, Tom", she sighed. He drove away from the van, and headed to Grey Road, where he dropped Lynda off at her house, which was thirty minutes' away, down the dim path.

***

Danielle Farr shook off the ill feeling that overcame her. She had waited for something to happen by seven-forty-five PM; she had waited for the timer to explode in the factory. She looked like death. She hated to think America wasn't free; she hated to believe in her warped view of what being famous felt like. It was mid-to-late 1972 now; it was shadows that crept along the night roads of life which shattered her faith in humanity. Suddenly, out of the dark, she saw workers still working inside on a top secret project. Danielle knew it was about nuclear radiation. Not since the nineteen forties, and early nineteen fifties, when Robert Opperheimer worked on The Manhattan Project with other American scientists, was America deeply affected with total annihilation of the World after the end of World War II in April of 1945. That was nearly three decades ago. Danielle grew up knowing she was intent on action...and not reaction. Danielle wanted to die happy in Nixon's America. To her, the country was already dead...and the future was unknown. She took another deep breath, and pressed the timer for four minutes. Once everything was set into motion, Danielle didn't wait for the explosion to begin.

***

Deputy Lisa Campbell picked up another book. It was The Spy who came out from the Cold by John Le Carre. She was used to reading alone, and filling time. The Grandfather clock chimed seven-thirty PM. As she ate her dinner, Sheriff Gorman opened the door. "It's freezing", he said. She nodded. "Have something to eat", she said. He grabbed hold of his long, grey, coat; he placed it on the brown hangar rack that was in the middle of the light hallway. "Crime is up because people are scared of Nixon's mobsters on the loose". She scanned the television, as a young, female, reporter from Washington, DC, spoke. "President Nixon was seen today in the nation's capital smiling for the first time since early to late 1971. The President, who was in China on business, ignored talk of Vietnam. He wanted his Chinese trip to be successful, allaying all fears of a revolt against the President over the growing Watergate scandal in Washington, DC...", she stated. Sheriff Gorman sat down and sighed. He knew this year would be the end of his job; he was prepared to resign in March of 1973, the next year. Besides, the growing tumultuous fever of American politics was draining his pride in the job her loved. The Sheriff's sourness had caused him to be separated from his wife, and family. He shook his head, as he ate dinner. He was finished before the darkness consumed him, leaving his Deputy to take over most of the duties instead.

***

L. G. Harrison, IV, the multi-millionaire computer builder, shook his head. He had read about technology that was born from the early nineteen thirties through to the nineteen forties. Because of World War II's Enigma computer was so successful, Harrison applied the British system to America. But his dream hadn't come to being until May 22, 1956, when he invented a computer that scanned heavy newspapers at a fast rate than from twenty to twenty-five year's ago. But progress was slow. Harrison, who made his fortune in nineteen thirty through to nineteen sixty-three, was seventy years old now. By August of 1972, he had a wife, Edna, and seven children who lived in America, London, South Africa, and Australia; he had also ten grandchildren. Harrison, a staunch Republican, and philanthropist, scanned The New Yorker newspaper, and read about the woes of President Nixon. He was in his own private study where he was writing his memoirs entitled The Road to Success, which was to be published in September of 1972; Harrison gazed at the dark skies ahead. He checked the internal computer system to his left; he was satisfied that all of the pertinent information about the American Government's trickery and deceit, was out in the open. He loathed what America had become. He remembered past Presidents like Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Harry Truman, were popular in their day. By nineteen twenty-nine during the Wall Street crash, Harrison's parents vowed to teach their son business once he left New York University, when he turned twenty. 

      Harrison finished the article he was reading, then headed towards the front door. He walked down the brightly-lit hallway, and turned on the lights. Smiling, he heard the sound of his telephone ringing. He gripped the telephone in the study with his left hand, and waited. "Good evening. Who is this?", he asked the caller. "This is Professor Edward Locker, from the Washington, DC Institute on Political Analysis", the Professor answered. Harrison shook his head. "Politics is corrupt, Professor. America road to recovery is tainted by lies. Nixon is lying; everyone lies. Watergate is a symptom of lies. You should read more newspapers. Good night!". And he put the telephone down before he injured his hand.

***

Page 4.

 

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