The Blood Flag by James W. Huston

stuff.”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.”
    â€œHow do I know you’re different?” I moved slightly closer to him and gave him my own hard look. “How do I know you’re not just trying to figure out what the FBI is doing? Spying on us for the Southern Volk, a sort of double agent?”
    Jedediah turned and walked back down the path. I called after him. “Hey!”
    He kept walking, shoulders hunched. He walked faster. I hurried after him. “What’s up?”
    â€œI don’t need this, and I don’t need you. I don’t really give a shit if you understand. And your big plan to come up with some genius idea to make us all look good is just smoke. You’ve got nothing. Then you accuse me of infiltrating the FBI. You’re unbelievable.”
    He turned to go again.
    â€œWait. Just tell me one thing.”
    He stopped and looked over his shoulder without turning his body. It was a very sinister look. I could feel the tattoos burning through his pullover, like they were already imprinted on my mind and went with him in my head wherever he went.
    â€œPick one thing, pick the most impressive thing that you have ever heard of or seen in any neo meeting or conversation. What has gotten the most comments, the most excitement?’”
    â€œLike where?”
    â€œAnywhere. Any neo meeting you’ve ever been to, some indoctrination, some . . . whatever. What has gotten everybody’s attention the fastest.”
    â€œSomebody with authority. Somebody who goes way back.”
    â€œLike somebody from World War II?”
    â€œNot really a person, but something he has. People love having Lugers, or old German rifles.”
    I thought for a minute, and he turned to face me as I pondered. He put his hands on his hips, growing impatient. I said, “What if we brought your guy a whole cache of World War II German weapons. Machine guns, Lugers, bayonets with swastikas on them. The whole bit. All authentic.”
    He thought for a minute. “I don’t know. Maybe. That would be hard as hell to get into Germany.”
    â€œI could do it.”
    â€œYeah, but the fact that you could do it would make them suspicious. They’d think you had German government help and that it’s a setup.”
    â€œWhat about an original signed copy of
Mein Kampf
?”
    â€œThat might get you somewhere. But you can just buy it on the Internet. Not that creative to get it.”
    â€œYou think he’s thinking of something like that? You said you weren’t going to blow up a federal building or anything.”
    He turned back around, more calm. “He left it wide open. We just have to impress him. I’m sure he’d love something big and violent. But he also might think that is exactly the wrong idea. Draws too much attention. Now is not the time to go blowing shit up, as much fun as that is.”
    â€œAlright. Give me some time, let me think about it.”
    Jedediah didn’t seem impressed. “Yeah, you think about it. You come up with something brilliant, you let me know. Otherwise, I’m going to have to come up with something on my own.” He walked ahead of me out of the woods. I waited until he was out of sight then headed to my car.
* * *
    When I returned to D.C. I turned back to tracking terrorists. But I found myself drifting back to my conversation with Jedediah and what I’d heard. Right before lunch Alex burst into my office. “Go to CNN.”
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œBombings in Germany.”
    â€œWhat?” I said, sitting up. “Where?”
    I went to the streaming video of CNN and put it on full screen. Alex watched over my shoulder.
    I ignored the reporters and focused on the images. The screen was split. The images on the left were from Munich and on the right from Berlin. People staggered out of a subway entrance with blood