Warthog Eleven-Three-Oh-One
Part Two
by Michael G. Crawford
This particular report was alarming to say the least. In the last few years, the really militant militia groups tended to get terribly antsy this time of year, and despite the fact that only a few of the large number of militia groups in U.S. fit this militant category, they were widespread enough, and seemingly powerful enough in number and skill sets to pose a real danger to the populace.
Thus the brief note at the bottom of the sheet, penned in his almost aristocratic hand, the security chief's words did little to help her mood.
"Mannie, my bones are aching to step up our defensive timetable. This is not good. Can you help me push D.C.?"
As much as she respected the very capable Phillipe Mendoza, she also hated to stir up D.C. with out of order requests for expenditures. It never helped top management to constantly ask for money. Especially right after a bunch had already been spent in the same area of the budget. Her own discretionary funds woudln't cover the pulling in of the defensive upgrades, and besides D.C. hadn't approved the repot yet, let alone any budget request.
Just then image of the Oklahoma Federal Building came to mind, that gaping hole chewed out of the many floors and the building askew chilling her to the bone. Picking up the phone, she decided there might be a way to get some help without a budget request...a way to shortcut the beauracracy.