Acts of Sedition Read online

  “I wish you had told me.”

  “Why? If I had told you, you’d be in here with me waiting to die. I need you on the outside to carry on.”

  “I understand. I still have the notes from what we talked about before. I’m working on it.”

  “Good. How’s work?”

  “I’m not working any longer. Even though the police let me go, it was common knowledge that you and I were friends and that we were together that night. So I guess I’m guilty by association.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah well when I went back to work after your arrest my boss called me into his office to tell me that they had to let me go. He said there was too much bad publicity about me being linked with the assassination attempt. It’s ok. I hated that job. It used to be a good job, but after Abbas had changed the laws to give hiring and promotion preference to family men, I was demoted to being a glorified secretary, which sucked. So, I took a part-time job at Mrs. DiMaggio’s gift shop in my neighborhood. It pays the rent and puts food on the table. And now I have the time for more important things.”

  “Well, you should make some new friends in your neighborhood then. Having a lot of friends is good. You never know when you might need some help with something.”

  “Yes, that’s what I figured. I’m going to be reaching out to people when I get back.”

  “Great. No more talk of that here, though, you know?”

  Angela could tell that Carol was nervous. It didn’t matter for her own safety as she was going to die. She wanted to keep her safe now that Angela was an extension of Carol on the outside. There was a lot to accomplish, and Carol was protecting her protégé.

  They had chatted for another 15 minutes before the guard told them that visiting time was over.

  “I have a big favor to ask, Angela.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “I want you to come back to witness my execution. I need to see a friendly face in the crowd. Will you do that for me?”

  Angela wanted to scream no. She nodded her assent.

  Chapter 7

  With shades drawn, a somber Angela Marie Mastronardo sat alone in the dark.

  Between going to Carol’s trial and then her visit to Leavenworth, she was drained. And, she had mixed emotions. On the one hand, she felt invigorated by Carol’s call for action and her prison visit. It felt good to be important and to have goals. And yet the loneliness she felt, weighed on her. She would miss her dear friend.

  But Carol had always talked about how action was the only way to stop tyranny, and she put her money where her mouth was, so to speak. She was a leader, and she was admired. And, she had passed the baton on to Angela, who had given her word that she would not let her die in vain.

  She could not believe that she had once been an Abbas supporter, considering how much she hated him now. It had been almost three years since the inauguration, and yet it felt like twenty. Catastrophic mistakes had a way of slowing time and dragging out the subsequent tortured feelings.

  As she tidied up her apartment, she thought about the many changes that had occurred in her life; in the lives of women; in the lives of most Americans. Her once flourishing career was now over. Her posh bachelorette pad on Rittenhouse Square in Center City Philadelphia had been replaced by new digs that were a marked contrast to the old; and a stark reminder of what the New America was really like.

  Abbas, in just three short years, had set the women’s movement back a hundred. And it could have been worse. Had he listened to his spiritual advisors, there would have been attempts to stop women from working. But Abbas realized that reforms like these could not be successfully implemented in this country. Even so, not since the 1950s had women been relegated to such a low status. What was it that her great grandmother had written in her dairy about those times past? Oh yeah. A woman's place was in the kitchen. Keep her barefoot and pregnant.

  But thinking about what her life used to be like, especially compared to this sad state, usually made her cry, so she blotted that out of her memory. It was much more relaxing to remember the family she loved and what life was like when they were alive before the world was turned upside down. And it was both therapeutic and motivational to remember their “way of life” that had been lost.

  She looked around her tiny apartment, a far cry from how she once lived. Even a minimalist might call this place “distraught.” The yellowing walls had not been painted in years. There were very few photos; mostly of nothing special. Those were just store bought pictures that she had purchased at the long out of business discount retailer; HandyMart. The kitchen cabinets were cracked, and the barely working appliances looked like holdovers from the longest recession in US history, this one in the early 2000s. The kitchen table sat on the fraying carpet near the living room. She called that area a breakfast nook to make it sound much nicer than it was. Gives it a touch of class, she laughed to herself.

  Her bedroom wasn’t any better than the rest of the house. Angela liked to joke that she wouldn’t want to be caught dead in there.

  For someone raised as a devout Catholic, to find no crucifixes or religious paraphernalia anywhere was an oddity especially given that her mother gave her the middle name Marie in honor of The Blessed Mother. The lines of separation between church and state were now blurred, and while there was no official religion in the US, Islam was the fastest growing. Mosques far outnumbered synagogues and the ornate and ostentatious churches of old. Most Christians, opting not to stand out, preferred to worship at home or in small chapels.

  It was hard for her to imagine even what life could have been like had she been able to stay in her posh condo. But as dark and dank as this place seemed, it was now operation central for Angela and her friends. She picked up a book “Understanding Islam” and began to read. She was only mildly interested in the book but felt that understanding an enemy was crucial to defeating him.

  Her little alarm went off reminding her that she had a little over an hour before the guests would arrive so she figured she might as well take advantage of the time by taking a nice hot shower. After putting on a pot of coffee for her guests, she stripped naked in front of her bedroom mirror and admired her figure.

  Once inside the shower, she closed her eyes and allowed the hot water to soak her hair and back before turning to her body. This was the most relaxed she had been in ages. Letting her hands glide over her wet body, always made her a little horny. While she hoped to have sex sometime soon, the sad reality of her life was that no one was likely to see her naked for quite some time.

  Chapter 8

  Angela, feeling rejuvenated after her shower, sat with a towel wrapped around her as she put on makeup.

  Born a Roman Catholic in Philadelphia at Christmastime in 2003, Angela was a strikingly beautiful forty-something woman. She had a fabulous figure but because of the extremely modest religious rules and customs in force around the world today, she was compelled to dress very conservatively, literally keeping her body under wraps. She worked out at home when she had the time. Doing pushups, sit-ups, squats, and yoga helped her keep her body toned, breasts perky, and her butt firm. At one time she worked out regularly at the gym but of course, women didn’t go to the gym anymore. Gyms were for men. She smiled, thinking about the absurdity of trying to get in a good workout while wearing a Khimar. But still, she was proud of her 5’5,” 115-pound frame; that and her 36, 25, 36 measurements.

  Her long flowing locks weren’t as nice as they once were. She started to gray prematurely a couple of years ago and began dying it the same chestnut brown color as it had been in her early adult years. Looking beautiful and professional was important back then. If she were alive her grandmother Concetta, more commonly Connie to her friends, would say, “Notta so much.” In fact, since she covered with a Hijab while outdoors, touching up wasn’t quite the priority it once was.

  Every couple of months, she would use what she called youth in a bottle if only for vanity’s sake and to tease a
few of her male friends. Remembering what the boys called her in high school brought a smile to Angela’s face because, at 44, she was still a cock teaser. Although with life seemingly getting shorter by the day, she’d like some action. Maybe Tony DiPietro would be the one. She laughed out loud. He’d had the hots for her since she was a sophomore and he was a junior at Neumann-Goretti High School in South Philly. Back then he would drive by her house and whistle while she hung out with friends. Everyone knew it was meant for her so Angela would just say in what was her typical South Philly accent back then “you wish, jack off.” Tony would smile, wave, and drive off.

  More recently, at their weekly prayer meetings at her house, Tony had been paying much more attention to her. Seeing her in shorts and a skimpy top must have something to do with that. The bulge in the front of his pants suggested it did. How sacrilegious, Angela thought, part of the reason for the get together was to pray, and all she could think about was giving Tony a boner. She laughed aloud. She paid much more attention to how she looked on days when she was going to see Tony. She wanted to give him the hots again, and then let nature takes its course. Of course, that’s not all Angela thought about, especially on days like today when some of her new friends would be joining her shortly.

  In mid thought, she heard the doorbell. Who could that be she wondered? There were still 45 minutes before the scheduled meeting. She didn’t have time to dress entirely as the visitor kept ringing the bell over and over. “Ok for Christ’s sake. I’m coming.”

  She opened the door to find Tony grinning from ear to ear. “What are you doing here and why that silly grin?” she said feigning annoyance. She was glad to see him and happy that he came early.

  “I’m here for the meeting. It is today, isn’t it?” He ignored the second part of her question as he stood there staring, trying to picture her without the towel.

  “The meeting’s today but you’re 45 minutes early.”

  “Well I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d just come a little early.”

  “Ok, Tone, grab a cup of coffee while I finish getting dressed.” Angela knew why Tony came first. He was in the neighborhood? Right. Tony lived in the neighborhood. He was always in the neighborhood.

  She finished getting dressed and then joined him in the living room.

  “Can I help you with anything?” he said.

  “No, I have everything ready for the meeting. I took a shower and figured I’d just sit and relax for a while.”

  Tony sat on the couch. She sensed that he wanted her to sit next to him, so she purposely took a seat in her favorite chair instead.

  “Well, this is nice. It’ll give us a chance to talk. We don’t get to do that very often.”

  “So Tone, I just realized that while we’ve been acquainted for some time, I don’t know much about you. Who is the real Tony DePietro?”

  Tony smiled. “Well, there isn’t much to tell. You know I was born and raised here in South Philly. My dad was a postal worker, and my mom worked in the school cafeteria for years before she retired. They both hated the winters, so they’re living down in Sarasota Florida now. I go down once in a while to see them, and I talk to them every chance I get, at least, a few times a week. I’m a 6th generation Italian, you know”.

  He said that like it was something unusual, but the fact was that most people who lived in South Philly were 6th generation Italians.

  “How about you, though?” said Angela. “What are you like?”

  “Well, I’m a pretty simple guy. I like my life I guess. I wish there was someone special to share it with but that someone special hasn’t quite found me yet”. He looked to see if she had picked up on his not so subtle hint. She didn’t let on that she had. “We went to high school together, so you know about that. I was a pretty average guy. After high school, I went into the service and learned to command as an NCO in charge of one of the battlefield platoons. When I got out, I went to business school, and I’m working as a middle manager at EatMore Supermarket. I don’t think I’ll stay there long though as it’s a pretty dead end job but it pays the bills”.

  “What would you like to do then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just take it a day at a time, you know? How about you? What is Angela all about?”

  Too much time alone gave her too much time to think. All of her friends agreed that drastic measures were needed to “take back” the country as they put it. By “take back” they were referring to the times of their parents and grandparents.

  She sat back, relaxed, as she told Tony about her past and especially about her family. To Angela, a large part of her makeup and the person she turned out to be was the result of her family.

  She turned on the light, pulled out her family photo album, and sat next to Tony on the couch. The album was a mere five pages.

  “This is my great grandmother. She was part of The Greatest Generation. I’m guessing that she was probably middle aged in this picture although the haggard look about her made her look 30 years older. I suppose that growing up during the Great Depression and living the hardships of World War II did that to people. I didn’t know her, of course, but I’ve read her diary that was handed down to me. In many ways I feel like I know her better than I knew my own mother.”

  “Now who is that gorgeous woman with the love beads” he laughed, as he pointed to a photo of a hippie with long straight black hair, a headband, multicolored midriff top, bell bottom jeans, sandals, and a ring on every finger.

  “That was my grandmother. I didn’t know her either. She was pretty much a free spirit, part of the Woodstock Generation of loud music, drugs, and free love that resulted in her pregnancy with my mother. She was only 17 when she had my mom. My mom told me that even as a little girl, she remembered granny being high most of the time. Like my mom, she was big into protesting, especially against war. They were anti-nuclear and fought for clean air, rights for blacks, gays, and women, including abortion, or free choice as it later became known.”

  “So, the apple didn’t fall far, so they say, huh.”

  Angela laughed. “Nah, I’m nothing like them. I guess they thought that they were fighting for good causes, but they really messed up with that anything goes approach to living”.

  The next photo was one of her mother dressed in business attire. She was strikingly beautiful.

  “Is that you?”

  “That’s my mom.”

  “Well, I can see where you get your good looks.”

  Angela smiled. It was incredible that her mother had been so brilliant and so successful, given the conditions under which she was born. But, like her grandmother, Angela’s mom was dead at an early age, the result of an auto accident while driving under the influence.

  “Yeah she was attractive, but she was pretty messed up too. We can thank people like her who were greedy and wanted more and more for a lot of what’s wrong with our country today. Between the greedy rich and people who wanted more and more entitlements, it’s no wonder that a guy like Abbas and other Islamist extremists were able to rise to power.”

  Once again their light-hearted stroll down memory lane had brought them back to the politics of today. The real America was gone, replaced with one that was taking on the shape of a third world Middle Eastern country. Some of the rights guaranteed under the original constitution were gone. Many great traditions and holidays had gone by the wayside too.

  Tony had wanted a more personal view of Angela, not a political commentary, but that is how the conversation evolved. It was almost as if the fight did define Angela now. The two were inseparable. Not that it mattered all that much. He loved her and just having her sitting very close to him on the couch made him feel good, not to mention a little randy.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s ok Ange. I just love being alone with you, even if just for a short time. And I loved hearing your stories. You have such passion. But I would like to get to know the real Angela a little better.”

  She ga
ve him a flirtatious wink that made his heart melt. “I think we can arrange that,” she said as she rose to put the photo album away. “Maybe we can get together later; after the meeting. That is if you don’t have any plans.”

  If he had, Tony would have canceled those plans in a heartbeat. “Sure.”

  Soon her friends would arrive to discuss the many problems they faced. Tony was the only long term friend. The rest were people who had come together to share their pain. Most were Christian leaders in the Philly area including a Roman Catholic priest, a deacon or two, a Methodist minister, and a few friends and former congregants that they brought with them to the meeting. The eight, who would be joining her shortly, were once respected community leaders with the ears of thousands.

  They all claimed to be disgusted by the new direction in America and itching for a change. But Angela knew in her heart what was needed to bring about lasting change, and she feared that these were not the kind of people who could make it happen.

  Chapter 9

  President Abbas displayed the physical attributes that made him look like a leader. That and his reputation as a great orator helped him get where he was today. He stood 6’3” tall and was in great shape at 180 lbs. He ran at least 2 miles a day and walked at other times. Plus, of course, he had the White House gym. He had a rugged chin and dark brown eyes. His hair was short and dark and his skin was a dark olive color that was typical of middle easterners. He had a neatly trimmed beard that while mostly black, had a little salt and pepper look about it. The president looked like he could have been a movie star. He was good looking in a Ben Affleck sort of way. Of course not the aging 76-year-old director but more like the suave 40 something movie star that he once was.