Masked Prey (Lucas Davenport #30)(44)

“Jesus. Who else?”

“The White Gazette, which is an underground online newspaper, compiled by a man named Jackson Wheatley and issued weekly, he’s a growing influence on the alt-right because it’s pretty well done. He apparently has a group of people working with him, but we don’t know who. And Pillars of Liberty, leader is Leopold Brooks, whose members follow and picket and harass members of Congress. And they’re good with cameras—they try for shots that make liberal politicians look bad, scratching their asses, picking their noses, and so on. Your problem seems to be over in that direction.”

Lucas said, “Huh,” and remembered that Pillars of Liberty was one of the groups that might have been funded by Charles Lang.



* * *



—

ALINE GAVE LUCAS a list of addresses for the six known leaders, four in Virginia, one in Delaware, and one in Maryland. “You have to go to your fed files for the other one.”

“Is it a coincidence that they’re all so close to DC?” Lucas asked.

“No. We mostly considered groups that would be active around the capital and have a history of violence or some other possible relationship to the 1919 website. Controlled Burn and White Fist are both prison-related groups, white gangs with a history of violence and extremist right-wing views. Forlorn Hope is weird, they’re gun guys, they’re believers in the ZOG, but they’re also involved with some of these anti-female groups, these incel groups, the involuntary celibates. . . .”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know,” Aline said. “Some of the junk they publish is completely off the wall. They do like guns and have argued that rape is not necessarily a crime, but in some cases, is a natural right.”

“Have they raped anybody? For real?”

“Rumor says yes. We don’t know of any actual cases. Anyway, they’re nuts and supposedly heavily armed. Gotta be careful there. Patriotus, not so much guns, but they have talked about ways to force Congress to vote their platform, which involves shipping blacks back to Africa, Hispanics back across the border, and gays to prison camps where they’d be reoriented to heterosexuality. They could have come up with something like 1919—it fits some of their ideas. They might be the leading contender for putting up the website, but if somebody gets shot, the shooter would probably be a lone wolf. Lone wolves are admired, but not usually part of a group. Some of us think 1919 is an advertisement for a guy like that. Timothy McVeigh, the guy who did the Oklahoma City bombing, was a classic lone wolf and much admired by these guys.”

“That’s encouraging,” Lucas said. “That they have a role model.”

“You wanted nuts, they’re nuts. I’m going now. No point in trying to track this phone, it’s a very old untraceable burner and I’m throwing it out the car window,” Aline said. “Oh, and don’t forget. Go fuck yourself.”



* * *



—

LUCAS WENT BACK TO BED; woke again at eight o’clock and called Jane Chase and told her what Aline had given him and that Old John supposedly was no longer a member of ANM.

“If it’s true, that’s a tough group,” Chase said. “I’ll have our HVE guys look at the names you got from Aline and I’ll tell everybody to lay low on Aline. If Old John is gone, Aline could be a key to finding out who else is involved with ANM.”

“What’s, uh, HVE?”

“Homegrown Violent Extremists,” Chase said. “The new flavor of the day. I’ll get back to you on the other groups.”

“And soon? If you don’t give me something to do pretty quick, I’ll have to go bowling.”

“Not a fate worse than death, dude. But don’t do that. Go eat breakfast, I’ll have some preliminary stuff on its way before you get through your Wheaties, so you can keep working.”



* * *



—

LUCAS TECHNICALLY WORKED for a Marshals Service bureaucrat named Russell Forte, who had an office across the Potomac in Virginia. Lucas called and told him about the ANM and about the extremist groups named by Aline.

“If I’m going to be sticking my nose into those hornets’ nests,” Lucas said, “I’ll need some backup. Marshal backup. The FBI seems okay to me, but what I really need is . . .”

“Bob and Rae,” Forte said.

“You think that’s possible? On short notice?”

“I’ll check and get back to you. You want them on a plane today?”

“If they want in,” Lucas said. “I don’t think I’ll need them for more than a week, at the outside. If something hasn’t happened by then, then probably nothing will.”



* * *



—

BOB MATEES AND RAE GIVENS were members of the Marshals Service Special Operations Group (SOG) based at the group’s headquarters in Louisiana. They specialized in finding and arresting hard-core fugitives, kicking doors and taking names.

Rae called Lucas a half hour after he talked to Forte, as he was getting dressed. “Is it something interesting?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s also somewhat classified at the moment, but basically, we’ll be talking to some prison gang members and some other heavily armed fruitcakes. It’s no harm, no foul—if they talk, we walk away. We’re not there to arrest anyone, at this point.”