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The American Praetorians

by Dennis C. Purdy

462 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0014; ISBN 1-55369-201-2; US$39.50, C$45.95, EUR32.50, £23.00

With a riveting mix of historical fact and speculative fiction, The American Praetorians takes you on a shocking and sobering journey into the next American revolution.

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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book The American Praetorians is the story of a group of American patriots who believe America -- in a variety of ways -- is on course of self-destruction, and who undertake a second American Revolution to correct that course. The revolution takes place in the year 2025, a time when the individual income tax has risen to a backbreaking 70% for the average citizen; a time when numerous Constitutional rights have been eliminated; a time when the entertainment industries are rampant with vulgarity and despair; and it is a time when sinister one-world government proponents, after the defeat of U.S.-backed forces in the Taiwan War with Red China in 2008, are preparing to make their move on an America that is militarily weak and has little national will. The American Praetorians' motto, "A man who saves a nation, commits no crime," underscores the urgent Praetorian approach toward dealing with the problems that threaten American's existence. Almost from the outset of their revolution, the Praetorians are beset with misfortune and treachery as it becomes obvious they have a traitor in their midst. The reader is kept guessing until literally the last few pages not only as to the shocking identity and sinister motive of the ultimate traitor to the Praetorian cause, but the fate of nearly all the main characters. The American Praetorians uses a mix of historical fact and speculative fiction to take the reader on a thought-provoking journey into the next American Revolution, a possibility that is all too real in 2025 America. By the time the reader turns the last page, he'll be left asking and answering his own question: "Could this really happen in America? My God, it could and heaven help us if it does."

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About the Author The father of three, Dennis Purdy lives in Lakewood, Washington, with his two youngest children. He is the former owner, editor, and publisher of VCBC, a national magazine devoted to vintage baseball collectibles. He sold the magazine after a six-year run in July of 2000 to devote full time to turning his ideas for novels and screenplays he had been collecting for more than 20 years into reality. The American Praetorians is his first novel. His wealth of character and plot ideas comes from a past as varied as some of the characters in his novels. Before devoting his life to writing, Dennis spent time working in a grocery store, slaughterhouse, restaurant, truck stop, factory, and juvenile delinquent institution. He also spent time as a soldier, professional gambler, police officer, bounty hunter, undercover police informant, freelance writer, car salesman, and trade show promoter before starting the magazine in 1994. His one stab at political office was in 1980 when he ran for county sheriff. He is currently working on a screenplay of The American Praetorians as well as simultaneously writing his next two novels, both tentatively scheduled for publication in 2002.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Rural Virginia, Monday, April 7, 10:17 p.m. EST

 

    "Why are you doing this to me?!" The terrified man strained at the ropes that bound his wrists behind his back so tightly they bled. "Why won't you answer me?!" The man began to cry underneath the black hood that covered his head. "Would somebody please tell me what this is all about?" The two men in the back seat who sat on either side of the bound man, as well as the two men in the front seat, remained silent. The large SUV, accompanied by two more identical SUVs, one leading, one following, sped along the deserted two-lane road. "Is this about money? I've got money! My family's got money!" the man blubbered. The man in the front passenger seat turned to the men seated in the back, made eye contact with one of them, then nodded toward their captive. The man in the back seat turned to the hooded man, made a fist, them smashed him in the face.
    "Shut up! We don't want your money!"
    The hooded man began to sob as blood trickled out from under the hood and onto the vest of his three-piece suit. When the three-vehicle caravan slowed suddenly and turned onto a pot-holed dirt road that led up a hill, the hooded man's head tipped to one side, coming to rest on one of his captor's shoulders. The man took hold of the prisoner's hood and pushed his head back upright. The vehicles made their way up the winding dirt road, bouncing and splashing through numerous holes and puddles from the day's earlier rain. The three SUVs left the dirt road and turned into an empty field. They continued their journey up the grassy incline, stopping when they reached the top of the small hill.
    "Why are we stopping?!" demanded the frightened prisoner.
    "I told you to shut up!" The man who had smashed the prisoner in the face before, did so again. The hooded man slumped forward, now babbling incoherently. The doors of all three vehicles opened in near unison and a dozen men all dressed in white jumpsuits with purple trim and wearing purple berets, stepped out onto the wet, grassy hill. One of the men yanked the prisoner out of the back seat, and he promptly slipped in the wet grass and fell to the ground. Two of the captors stood on either side of their prisoner, took hold of him under his arms, and pulled him to his feet. They half walked, half dragged the wobbly-legged captive as the entire group advanced in the headlights of their vehicles to a large oak tree at the top of the hill. The tree formed a stark silhouette against a large, full moon that was rising just over the crest of the hill in the clear night sky. One of the captors threw a rope over a long, outstretched limb and caught it again when it came down on the other side. Another captor yanked the hood from their prisoner. His eyes became wide with fright when he realized what was about to happen.
    "You...you're going to hang me?! But...what did I do?!" The man fell to his knees and began to hyperventilate. He looked around at the faces of eleven white men, eyes begging for an answer. "Is it...because...I'm black?!" As he continued to search the face of each man who stood in a circle around him, the circle parted, and a very large black man approached the captive. For several seconds the two black men stared at one another, then the captor kicked the captive in the stomach with the bottom of his boot, knocking the prisoner on his back, arms still tied behind him.
    "No, it's not because you're black." With that, the black captor waved his arm to the other men and two of them lifted the prisoner's feet into the air while a third tied the end of the rope around his ankles. Several of the men pulled on the other end of the rope, hoisting their prisoner upside down, leaving him dangling about four feet off the ground. After they tied the rope off to the tree trunk, they again formed a circle around their prisoner. One by one, each of the captors removed a dagger from the sheath attached to his belt and held it skyward until all had done so.
    "You crazy sons-of-bitches!" shouted the prisoner as he violently struggled in vain against the ropes that held his hands and feet. "I'm a United States Congressman!"
    "Very well, Congressman, we accept your guilty plea," said his black captor. With that, he approached the upside-down prisoner, slit his throat, then stepped back. The rest of the men then rushed forward. A hundred frenzied dagger thrusts later, their work was finished.

 

Chapter 2

Mount Vernon, Virginia, Saturday, April 12, 6:30 p.m. EST

 

    "All right, get those stretchers inside! Hey! Get those damn TV cameras back!"

    "This is Jamie Snyder reporting for Eyewitness News with breaking developments in the hostage standoff at Duncan's Grocery in Marshall County, Iowa, between federal agents and Jerry Duncan, the store's owner, and several of his supporters. This story, which has captivated the nation, began four weeks ago when agents of the FBI and ATF attempted to arrest Duncan for violation of a federal order to evacuate his premises and ended minutes ago when dozens of agents stormed the building after a barrage of tear gas. The store, which sits at the crossroads of two major state highways, was ordered taken away from Duncan under eminent domain rulings earlier this year. County officials want to build a casino on the land, bringing with it the promise of hundreds of jobs to the economically depressed area.
    "The county sought to purchase the strategically located property and its surrounding twenty acres of land last year, but Duncan, fourth-generation owner of the store, refused, so these same county officials exercised the right of eminent domain, in which a government entity appropriates private property for necessary public use. And while the government is supposed to pay reasonable compensation for such confiscations, money was never an issue in this case as Duncan refused to sell for any price, citing his family's eighty-year history at the location.
    "Locally, the issue resulted in emotional protests against the government, protests which took on a David-and-Goliath flavor. Finally, on March 15th, the protests turned violent when a shoot-out took place between Duncan, several of his supporters, and government agents, leaving six people dead, including four ATF and FBI agents. Duncan and his small band of supporters then barricaded themselves inside the store and had been holding two FBI agents hostage, threatening to kill them.
    "Further adding to the imbroglio was the rumor that one unidentified federal official responsible for pushing the eminent domain issue had received a large payoff from Nevada gambling interests to secure the location.
    "With me now is Marshall County Sheriff Bud Quigley, who for the last month has stood by in the background as federal agents took charge of the highly volatile situation. Sheriff Quigley, it's no secret that you have been opposed to the federal government's intervention in this matter. What are your thoughts now that this is finally over?"
    "Ms. Snyder, what makes you think it's over? Just because the federal government has more money, more men, and more guns doesn't mean they can just waltz in here-or anywhere for that matter-and do what they damn well please. In time we could have worked this out to a more satisfactory solution. But for whatever reason, there was a push to hurry things up. So the feds get called in and this is what we get. No, Ms. Snyder, I doubt it's over, not by a longshot."
    "Well, there you have it, the very outspoken sheriff of Marshall County, Bud Quigley. And now, let's go to FBI spokesman Darrell Vitek. Agent Vitek, now that the standoff is over, any comments?"

    "Meredith! Come look! Darrell Vitek's on TV," said Daniel Hawthorne.
    "What? Again? There ought to be a limit to how many times that pock-faced prick can have his little hostage rescue scene replayed in one day. It's been on nonstop since early this morning."
    The caustic remark from Meredith surprised Daniel. The tall, elegant, soft-spoken Meredith James he had known as friend and lover for the past five years never made such remarks. She was always smiling and had a kind word for everyone, especially those she worked with at FBI Headquarters in downtown Washington, D.C.
    "Where did that come from?" asked an amused Daniel as Meredith slipped off her shoes and settled in beside him on the couch. She handed him a glass of after-dinner wine.
    "What, you don't think I have the capacity to be mean and nasty, Mr. Daniel Hawthorne? What kind of Secret Service agent are you, anyway, that you don't know the first thing about me? I just may have to punish you tonight for being so clueless." Meredith took a sip of wine, then set her glass on the end table. With a mischievous smile she began to loosen Daniel's tie.
    "You know you're missing Darrell on television, don't you?"
    "That's okay," Meredith said, sliding the knot on Daniel's tie halfway down. "I'm sure I'll get all the juicy details Monday morning at the office. Now, give me those buttons." Daniel feigned annoyance as Meredith smoothly popped button after button on his shirt.
    "But Meredith, he could have something really important to say," said Daniel, as he playfully slapped Meredith's busy hands away from his belt.
    "The only important thing he could say would be 'I quit,'" Meredith said, as she again tried to undo Daniel's belt.
    "Please, Meredith. I really do want to listen to this."
    "Oh, all right!" Meredith whined. "But as soon as this story's over, it's you and me, upstairs, without Darrell. Agreed?"
    "Yes, yes, I surrender," said Daniel, using the remote to turn up the volume on the television set. Daniel had been following the story very closely over the last month; more closely than he wanted Meredith to know. Its sudden ending had caught him off guard and the television pictures of the early morning tear gas assault followed by the hostage rescue were fascinating. He knew they would be cause for lengthy discussion tomorrow. And the pictures of a handcuffed Jerry Duncan, choking and crying from the tear gas, being dragged through mud puddles to a black FBI Suburban were downright riveting. He was sure many Americans were experiencing the same feelings right now.

    "As I've said before, Miss Sawyer, I-"
    "Snyder, Agent Vitek. It's Snyder."
    "Whatever. As I've said before, this whole unfortunate incident was the result of people not listening to their government. One individual thought he was more important than the laws of this country and his criminal actions incited others who also didn't stop to think. Eminent domain legislation is in place for a reason, and that reason is the greater good of the public. What Mr. Duncan and possibly many other Americans failed to grasp is that individual rights must be subservient to government rights. If it were the other way around, total chaos would result, chaos such as we've seen here the last few weeks. And that's why over the last dozen years or so we've seen Congress pass stricter and stricter laws regarding a variety of individual rights. The end result has been a safer, more orderly society for the greater number. Hopefully this incident will help other such wrong-thinking individuals to get their minds right."
    "But Agent Vitek, some have criticized the government's actions as contrary to the fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution. Are you saying-"
    "What I'm saying, Miss-what was your name again? Snyder, yes-is that it's time people started to realize that this isn't 1776 anymore. Our country has changed in the nearly 250 years since, and our Constitution needs to be adaptable, to changing times and changing needs. Congress realizes this. It's time everyone else did, too."
    "Well, there you have it. I get the feeling Sheriff Quigley is right, we haven't heard the last of this yet. Jamie Snyder for Eyewitness News returning you to the studio."
    In other news tonight, the freakish off-season Hurricane Camille is growing in intensity as it continues to bear down on the Bahamas, threatening to wreak havoc not only on the islands, but on a small U.S. military training exercise in the area as well. Winds are now over one hundred thirty miles per hour and forecasters say-

    Daniel used the remote to turn the television set off. 'Individual rights must be subservient to government rights.' I can't believe Darrell actually said that on TV, thought Daniel. People are getting bolder on all sides, I guess.
    "All right, Mr. Daniel Hawthorne." Meredith took the television remote out of his hand and tossed it over the back of the couch. She took hold of his tie as if it were a chain around his neck and pulled him up from the couch. "The nasty Mr. Vitek has gone away. It's time to tuck rebellion, conspiracy, and murder away in the closet for one evening. I am now giving you a direct order to come upstairs with me so I can have my way with you."
    Daniel smiled at Meredith. His love for her seemed to grow every day. As he softly stroked her shoulder length brown hair, he could see her getting a familiar look in her eye.
    "Daniel...it's been more than five years now, and..."
    "Ssshhh," he whispered, gently touching the tip of his right index finger to her lips. "Not tonight."
    "When, then?" she asked quietly as she placed her head on his shoulder and circled her arms around him. "Rachel's been asking, too."
    "Soon, soon. I promise," said Daniel, returning the hug. He felt guilty about putting off the marriage question, and in truth there was nothing he wanted more than to marry this wonderful woman and become a family with her and her daughter, Rachel. But she didn't know what he knew, and he wasn't about to burden her or Rachel with what the near future was going to bring. Besides, there was no telling how things would turn out. And he couldn't bear the thought of Meredith becoming a bride and a widow in the same month. She deserved better.
    "And where is our young stewardess tonight?" Daniel asked, glancing up the staircase.
    "Don't worry, she's not home. She left earlier today. She wanted to do some research at the library before her flight out. I think it was Boston tonight."
    "Research? What kind of research?"
    "You know, Dan, I just don't know. Sometimes she can be as mysterious as you."
    "How can you not know what your daughter is up to?"
    "Well, gee, Dan, she's twenty-six, headstrong, and has a life of her own. And she did spend eighteen years around her father before he died, and you better than anyone should know how communicative government agents are around their families."
    "Touché," said Daniel.
    "Now, can we go upstairs?"
    "I just need to make a quick call, then I'll be up." Daniel retrieved his cell phone from his trenchcoat pocket on the couch and punched in the numbers.
    "I know how these quick calls go. I'll tidy up the kitchen." Meredith bent forward to slip out of her skirt, revealing black lace, French-cut panties. She rubbed her hands seductively on both ass cheeks, turning her head just enough to catch Daniel watching her. "But you just try and keep your mind off this."
    Daniel smiled, blew her a kiss, and watched her make her way to the kitchen. Forty-eight years old and what a body!
    After a few steps she turned. "Why don't you use my phone?" Meredith asked. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Secure phone. Scrambled phone. You G-men are hilarious sometimes, you know that?" She then unbuttoned her silk blouse and let it fall to the floor. A moment later her bra joined her blouse, revealing full, round breasts. She again headed for the kitchen, walking slower than normal. She ran her left hand through her hair, then shook her hair out. The fingers of her right hand traced the outline from her right hip up to her right breast, then circled it, stopping to tweak her nipple. Satisfied she had Daniel's attention, Meredith finished her seductive walk to the kitchen.
    Damn! This really will be a quick call! Daniel had to turn away from her lest he lose the concentration he needed for his phone call.
    "Mars, it's Cicero," said Daniel in a hushed voice. "Did you hear about the standoff in Iowa? Um-huh. I think we've got our spokesperson. Yeah. How's the mission going? It looks good, according to the news. Um-huh. Good. All right then, keep me posted. You've got my number if anything comes up overnight, otherwise I'll see you in the morning around ten. Right." Daniel pressed the disconnect button on his phone and slipped it inside his shirt pocket. He placed his hands on his hips, closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
    "Don't you be getting tired on me," Meredith said as she turned off the table lamp. "I've got plans for you." She took his head in both hands and drew his mouth to hers, kissing him with a hungry passion. Daniel slid his hands down Meredith's naked back, then inside the waistband of her panties. He worked his way around her hips to her front when the living room phone rang.
    "You know," said Meredith as she pulled away, looking at the floor. "I swear somebody up there doesn't want me to get laid tonight! Shit!" She let out a deep sigh and picked up the phone.
    "Hello. Yes, this is Meredith James. Yes, Rachel James is my daughter. What?! Oh my God! Yes, of course. We're on our way."
    "Meredith, what is it?"
    "It's Rachel," said Meredith as she placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle. "She's been arrested at the airport. With a gun."

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Catalogue Information

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