While keeping his eyes fixed on the five man position in order to assess their progress, Lightfoot shrugged. “I suppose that depends on what those people in Washington do. As I see it we’re just window dressing, nothing more.”

Glancing over to where the news van was still filming, with bright lights and great fanfare, Nancy didn’t need any further explanation. The nation, and in particular the President and his senior advisors, would be bombarded with images of uniformed Idaho Guardsmen busily preparing tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled howitzers, attack helicopters, and ground attack aircraft. The President’s spinmeisters wouldn’t have the option of shrugging off the governor’s earlier actions as little more than a temper tantrum or a political stunt. Through the actions of Nancy and the small cadre of Guardsmen at Gowen Field, the Governor was announcing that a line had been crossed. The intrusive and often overbearing manner with which the Federal government treated state and local governments had gone too far this time. In a speech meant to buck the people of Idaho up and put things in perspective, the state’s Attorney General had called Gowen Field Idaho’s version of Lexington Green. “The men and women of our state’s National Guard,” he announced before a battery of news cameras, “stand ready to resist the tyranny of the Federal government and arrest the erosion of our Constitutional rights.”

A shiver ran down Nancy’s spine just thinking about how Thomas Jefferson Osborn had delivered that staement. When she had first sighted the weapons and personnel, she had thought that their most likely targets would be over zealous members of right wing militias. Up until that speech, Nancy had not given any real thought to what could happen if other, more powerful forces were brought to bear. Now, however …

“Getting cold, ma’am,” Lightfoot stated in his deep, sonorous voice.

Nancy looked over into Lightfoot’s face, half hidden by the shadow of his helmet. In his eyes she imagined that she saw his thoughts. Thoughts that were as foreboding as hers. Thoughts they both believed were best kept unstated. “Perhaps,” he continued after a slight pause, “this would be a good time to get down from here and claim our share of that gumbo.”

After a moment, Nancy Kozak cleared her throat and whispered, “Yes. Let’s do that.”

SOMEWHERE OVER NEBRASKA • JUST PAST MIDNIGHT, OCTOBER 31

Nathan had barely managed to doze off when he felt someone slap the side of his helmet. Pissed at being wakened in such a manner, he jerked his head back and looked up to confront his tormentor.

With his face inches from Nathan’s, First Lieutenant Randy Wahler grinned, from ear to ear, as was his habit. “How’s the ride so far, J. O.?” he shouted in order to hear over the roar of the C-141’s engines.