McAlpin - The discoverer; vvherein is set forth (to undeceive the nation) the reall plots and stratagems of Lievt. Col. John Lilburn, Mr. William Walwyn, Mr. Thomas Prince, Mr. Richard Overton, and that partie

STRATAGEMS

A Novel

Richard McAlpin

To my family

Rita, Alyssa, April & Malakai.

With all my love.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

Cover Design by

Philip Eckenroth

One of the smartest, talented and most caring individuals I know.

Edited by

Betty Romero Walker

A brilliant and gifted editor who improved this book tremendously.

Stratagems, Copyright 2019 by Richard McAlpin, All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

• A strategy, ruse, ploy to overcome or outwit an opponent or enemy
• Subterfuge, scam or con against an adversary
• A trick or deception to achieve a goal

• Multiple strategies to accomplish an end or objective
• Deceptions working against one another leading to preferred outcome or chaos

CHAPTER ONE

Summer 1988

Drew Meyers' eyes fluttered open as the unfamiliar noises woke him from a shallow sleep. At first, he thought he was dreaming, hearing faint voices rising softly from the first floor. He craned his neck, glancing up at the clock sitting on the nightstand. The bright red LEDs glowed 2:03am. He lay there in the quiet darkness, listening intently, still caught in the wake of a fading dream. One of the voices was his mother (that much he knew), but the others were unfamiliar. Male voices, certainly. Two of them, he thought. Other than his father, he was the only other man in the house, although he was only 12 and considered by his parents to just be a young man, and even that esteemed title was a stretch at times. Aside from him and his father, who was away more than home, there was his mother, Sarah, and his five sisters.

The footfalls came next. Not just one set, but several, ascending slowly up the stairs. He knew soon his mother would be at the door, flipping on the light. Something must have happened. He lay there for a second longer, his breathing starting to become heavy as reality pierced through his consciousness. The footfalls and voices stopped at once, a new voice joining the chorus. It was Susan, Drew's older sister, and she was much louder than the others. At first it was low conversation, undistinguishable from where Drew lay in bed. Sounds of a sleep that had been suddenly interrupted, soon replaced with muffled crying. It was Susan. The echo of her door closing hit Drew's ears as the footsteps drew close to his own door, stopping next at Cindys room. She was going down the hall, opening each door as she went, delivering some news that couldnt wait until morning. He knew it had to be about his father, mostly because his father wasn't home and they didn't really know anyone else. There was no family, no close friends, no one that would personally come to the house with bad news instead of using the telephone. It had happened before, and not too long ago, at a time when his name wasn't Drew Meyers and he had friends and family and a life that he longed to have once again.

They were at his door.

The knob turned and the light ripped through the darkness as his mother stepped in, flipping the wall switch. Drew sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to bring the images into focus. His mother stood at the door, the trail of tears down her cheeks still evident. Two men dressed in black suits lingered silently in the outer the hall.

"Get up, honey. We gotta go."

"What do you mean?" Drew said, a yawn escaping as the last word trailed off.

His mother sat on the bed, her hand reaching for his cheek, caressing it gently. "Daddy's had an accident. We need to go."

"Dad? Where's dad?"

His mother remained silent for a moment, words seeming to be caught in her throat. "I'll tell you later, just get dressed. Hurry, sweetie."

She rose quickly and hurried back into the hall, closing the door behind her. Drew sat for a moment, tears starting to form near the corners of his eyes. He knew it was bad, even worse than before. The last time had been years ago, when he was eight, but at that time it had been the afternoon, not two o'clock in the morning. The men had come then as well, dressed in dark suits and even darker glasses, escorting his father into the house like staunch bodyguards. They told the family to pack only two suitcases each, and then they all climbed into dark sedans and drove away. It had been winter and the snow in upstate New York had fallen steadily that day, stopping only occasionally for the sun to peek through the clouds, reminding them there was something above the gloom, only to return to drop a few more inches. It had been the longest winter he could remember, and the memory of moving from their home and leaving everyone and everything behind had stayed with him. Now, sitting alone in his room, the same feeling was returning. They were about to move again.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slipped on the faded jeans draped over the chair, his eyes still adjusting to the light as he fumbled for the tee-shirt that had fallen to the floor.

His mother returned carrying two suitcases that she set on the bed, flipping both open and looking over at Drew. "You need to start packing. This time, make sure you get everything that's important to you."

Drew sat on the edge of the bed, dazed and confused, sleep still holding on. "Where's Dad?"

His mother sat next to him, slowly reaching her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I'm not sure, honey. They said there was an accident, and Dad didn't...he didn't make it."

"Didn't make it?" Drew repeated in a whisper.

Tears choked back the words his mother was trying to utter. "He's...he's gone, honey. They said a gunshot, but didnt say much more."

Tears started falling down Drew's cheeks. He now knew how bad it really was. The last time they had left their home so suddenly it had been the result of a failed attempt not only on his dad's life, but the entire familys, which caused them to move and assume new identities.

"I need you to be strong right now," his mother said. "You need to pack quickly, okay?"

Drew nodded sleepily, his mother once again leaving the room to tend to his sisters. He could hear more sobs coming from behind his door, knowing there was little time to get things together. He took one suitcase and threw in the essentials a few changes of clothes, family photos that were scattered around the room in cheap dollar-store frames, a few stuffed animals he had collected as presents since the last time they moved and a few books he had been reading. One was a school library book, but at this point he didn't care. If they wanted it bad enough, they could just try and find him in witness relocation, but he knew his name wouldnt be Drew after tomorrow. Of course, it didnt matter. He never liked the name anyway.

The second suitcase was a bit smaller, making it difficult to stuff with the other things in life he loved. A portable cassette player and a few of his favorite cassettes, a set of headphones, a photo album Susan had given to him last Christmas, a pad of paper, pens, coloring book, crayons and more odds and ends that took up every inch of space. Even so, he was leaving so much behind once more. Then he thought of his father, and knew this time it was different. Dad wouldnt be there, and the men in the suits would probably move them farther away, perhaps even off the East Coast entirely.