﻿THE COVER UP by John Braswell Smashwords Edition Copyright 2012 John Braswell Thank you for downloading this free eBook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. _____________ 9-11-2001 Everyone remembers the victims that died on that September day but we don’t often think about the ones they left behind. Maybe we should. 2007 FBI, AI, DHS, DIA, NSA, CIA, DEA: an alphabet soup of acronyms representing some of the most formidable law enforcement agencies in the world. For the first time many factions of the US government charged with protecting its citizens come together to actually do that job. The reason they are willing to work together is simple. They are not concerned with who would receive the credit for a job well done because if they are successful no one will ever know. They also understand that if they were to fail they would all be held accountable regardless of whether they actually participate and that failure would be impossible to cover up. February 22, 2007 New York City Although he was dressed in his most casual attire, Daniel Wess Jr. stood out in the crowd. Due to his natural blonde hair, cool blue eyes, and his overall handsome features, every woman in the place noticed him. Being young, wealthy, and single undoubtedly also played a part in the way people viewed him but Wess wasn’t a player. Actually, he wasn’t even interested in the people around him. Tonight, Wess was sitting in the last booth furthest from the entrance preparing to review the application of the next man that he was going to interview. Although this was a nonsmoking facility now, the passing of time and the heavy aroma of fresh beer could not completely mask the stale stench of old cigarette smoke. Wess figured that the two decades prior to going smokeless had allowed the tobacco smoke to soak into everything, even the paint on the walls. The lights were dim, the music was loud, the chatter and laughter was louder, and in many ways, this was a typical New York City bar, but not in every way. This particular bar occupied the ground floor of the Wess Business Building that had a total of 32 floors with one or more businesses occupying each of the first 30 levels. The two top floors was where Wess Enterprise’s home office had relocated after the north tower of the World Trade Center fell on 9-11-2001. Daniel Wess Jr. had chosen this particular bar as the place to conduct the interviews because he owned the building and everyone there knew him. That made him feel safe and feeling safe was important to Wess because he hadn’t felt truly safe for a very long time. Wess opened the file folder that was lying on the table in front of him and removed the top resume with the intention of reading it. He looked at the sheet of paper with words printed on it but didn’t see the paper or the words. His eyes lost their focus and glazed over as his mind wandered into the recent past. Wess thought about how the last few weeks had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to let his mind relax and was sure that’s why he’d had a perpetual headache for the last several days. The first week in February, he'd graduated early from NYU, (New York University), with two degrees: Meteorology and Psychology. Although he’d known that he was expected to take over his parents business, Wess had not taken any business classes. After all, he had Sharon Kay, and she’d graduated a few weeks earlier with her MBA so she could run the business giving him extra time he could devote to matters he deemed more important. Immediately after graduating, Wess had moved himself and Sharon Kay into a new condo closer to his corporate headquarters in New York City. A few days after they'd moved, Wess had celebrated his 21st birthday, and a few days after that, he'd taken control of his parents business and made Sharon Kay the CEO. Taking control of the business had also given him access to the company's cash reserve. That $760 million had made it possible for Wess to put his plan for justice into action and that was why he was in that dirty little bar. He was taking the first step toward obtaining absolute justice for his parents as well as all the other victims of 9-11. It was the right thing to do. While in college, Wess had spent many hours online watching the towers fall and studying the numerous conspiracy theories. Now, he was convinced that he knew who was really to blame for the attack on 9/11/2001. He had no doubt that Osama bin Laden had done it, but he also knew that bin Laden could not have done it alone. He'd had help, lots of help, and Wess knew that it could have come from only one place: the White House. The president and vice president were the only ones that could order NORAD and the Air Force to stand down and not enforced the no-fly zone. Then to orchestrate the elaborate cover-up that followed took someone in the know and with the ultimate power to make it happen. Wess knew that in the history of modern aviation, the so-called [black boxes] had never failed to be recovered, until now. Not from the highest mountain or the deepest ocean, and now the government wanted people to believe that not one, not two, not even three, but all four were destroyed on the same day around the same incident. That was too much for Wess to swallow and he told himself again that there was no other choice; he had to do the right thing. Wess studied the résumé in his hands. This would be the fourth applicant out of the ten finalists that he’d chosen to interview in person. He’d placed an ad in the Soldier of Fortune magazine hoping to find at least one man with the right qualifications to establish and oversee his compound. Unexpectedly, he’d been overwhelmed with more than 100 applicants and had randomly plucked these ten from the stack. Wess’ mind drifted back over the last six years and relived parts of it yet again. He remembered in vivid detail the last time he'd seen his parents and how he'd lied to them for the first time. It was September 11, 2001; the day the world, his world in particular, changed forever. He’d been only 15-years-old and in his junior year at a private all-boys school; the only school he'd ever attended. Wess remembered how he’d intentionally ignored his alarm clock that morning until he heard his mother enter his room. In his mind, Wess could hear her voice today as clearly as it had been six years ago. "Danny, it's a school day, son." He'd already known that, but he'd had a plan and going to school was not in the plan. The morning movie on HBO was going to be Top Gun, his favorite. Only it was more than just his favorite movie, it had been his dream. Wess remembered that since grade school, he'd wanted to be a fighter pilot and had read everything he could find on the subject. For countless hours, he'd honed his reflexes and eye-to-hand coordination to a razor-sharpness with video games. Wess remembered that he'd chosen that day to take his training to the next level. He thought it was necessary for him to learn how to lie convincingly in case he was shot down and captured by an enemy. He’d known that he could simply tell the truth and his parents would let him skip school, but that wouldn't have helped his training. Wess painfully remembered how he'd waited until his mother stopped the alarm clock and then rolled over to face her. With the most pitiful voice he could muster, Wess began lying to his mom for the very first time. "I don't feel so good." In his mind's eye, Wess could see the concern in his mother's face. He could still feel her gentle touch as she placed the palm of her hand on his forehead, then his cheek, and then his chest. He saw tenderness and understanding replace the concern and a faint smile play at the corners of her mouth. He could still hear her soft voice speak lovingly. "Okay, you just go back to sleep and get some rest. Your father and I are going to work, so just promise me that you will call if you start feeling worse." Remembering it now caused self-loathing; he was positive that his mother had known he was lying. Wess had convinced himself if he’d only been a better, more convincing liar, his mother would have stayed home that day and would still be alive today. In an odd way, he felt partly responsible for her death. Wess' thoughts were interrupted by a waitress. "Excuse me Mr. Wess; there's a gentleman here to see you." She couldn’t stop the thoughts that flooded into her mind. Daniel Wess had grown into her idea of a hunk and she knew that most women would agree. She’d had the opportunity to see his driver’s license and knew that he was six-feet tall and weighed 205 pounds. The picture had shown his blond hair and attractive face but had neglected his blue eyes, perfect teeth, and strong broad shoulders. Oh my god; you are one pretty man. What I’d like to do to you probably ain’t legal. She gave Wess her sweetest smile and walked away with an extra wiggle in her step in case he was watching. It took Wess a half-second for his mind to shift from past to present and then to realize his fourth appointment was standing beside the table. He started the interview but it took less than 15-minutes for him to reject this applicant. Wess had allotted 30-minutes for each interview so now he had to wait for number five to show up. Wess ordered another cup of the coffee he thought was horrid, but still better than the best wine the bar offered. Wess opened the folder that was lying on the table in front of him and removed the application and resume for number five. A grin formed on Wess’ face; he was amused at the way this applicant had chosen his nickname. His name was Charles Norris and could have gone by Charlie, but instead he chose to be called Chuck. That made him Chuck Norris; a name that everyone knew. Wess started reading Chuck's résumé but once again, his mind drifted into the past. Wess remembered that day as clearly as if it had been six hours instead of six years in the past. He'd waited quietly until he heard his parents leave before rolling out of bed. He’d quickly decided that if he was going to break one of the rules, he'd might as well go rogue for the day and break them all. Without taking a shower, without brushing his teeth, and without getting dressed, Danny bounced down the carpeted stairs with bare feet and in his pajamas feeling like a real outlaw. This had been the most flagrant act of disobedience in Wess’ young life and he remembered thinking that if he got caught he was going to blame it on normal teenage rebellion. Wess sat in the dimly lit bar and watched the movie starring himself play in his mind. He'd gone directly to the kitchen, got out a bowl, a box of cereal, and a quart of milk. Placing these items on the counter he'd fixed his breakfast, and after putting everything away, carried the bowl to the table. Wess remembered how he'd pulled a chair out with the intention of sitting at the table to eat, but then stopped. He watched himself grin as he pushed the chair back into its place under the table and then carry the bowl into the TV room. Danny sat on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table, and the bowl in his lap. Using the remote he turned the TV on, found the right channel, and then sat back to enjoy the evils of eating while watching television. Wess grimaced in pain with the last memory he had of that day. Halfway through his breakfast, the show he'd been watching was interrupted by a special news bulletin. Fifteen-year-old Danny watched in horror as an airplane crashed into the World Trade Center where both his parents worked. While still in shock, he saw the building collapse taking with it all hope of his parent's survival. Wess' body jerked so hard that the condiments on the table shook and he found himself still in the bar. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed and was relieved to find nobody looking his way. Wess returned his attention to Chuck Norris' application and willed himself to stay in the present. Sharon Kay helped him with that issue, but unfortunately, it only helped when she was with him. Wess saw the waitress coming toward him with a man following close behind. He watched the way the man walked and could tell he was attempting to appear to be a badass. Thanks to being forced to live with his redneck grandfather, Wess could tell the difference between appearing to be, and truly being, a badass. Stopping beside his table the waitress smiled sweetly and said, "Mr. Wess, this gentleman is looking for you." With that said, she turned and walked away. The man offered his hand. "Mr. Wess, I'm Chuck Norris." Ten minutes later, number five left the bar and Wess was again alone with his haunting memories. He opened the folder and took out all the information he had about applicant number six. This guy was different from the rest because he’d included documentation to prove everything on his resume was true. The paperwork was impressive and Wess thought he might be the one. There were however, a few things that raised red flags in Wess' mind. The most troubling was that before becoming a mercenary, he’d been a sniper with the U.S. Marine Corp for 12 years. Wess had heard it said somewhere, probably in a movie, 'Once a Marine, always a Marine.' The question in Wess' mind: can an ex-Marine's unconditional loyalty be bought? Wess' eyes lost their focus on the paper as his mind slipped back into memories of the past six years. In Wess’ opinion, his redneck grandfather was a grouchy old man that was only one-step up from a Neanderthal. Unfortunately, that grandfather was also his only living relative. The brain dead judge hadn't cared that they didn't like each other or that he'd only met his grandfather once before; that's where he had to live. To Wess’ horror, his grandfather had driven an old muddy four-wheel-drive pickup truck that day, and then to add insult to injury, they had gone to his school. That had been the first time he’d been to the school since his parent’s death and his whole class assembled on the parking lot to wish him farewell. Wess would never forget the stunned look on their faces when they saw him climbing into that mud streaked truck. He was thankful that none of his friends had known what lay ahead for him. His grandfather’s house was at least 25 years-old, was all ground level, had no central air conditioning, and had no internet connection. Wess grimaced when he thought about everything he’d been through. The judge had forced him to live with his grandfather who in turn had forced him to live in poverty. He’d been forced to give up the private all-boys school that he'd attended since before the first grade and then forced to go to an old-fashioned, out-dated, redneck public school. The only good thing, actually, the only thing that had not been totally horrid coming from that ordeal was Sharon Kay, and she was fantastic. As always, a smile appeared on Wess’ face when he thought about Sharon Kay. "Excuse me, Mr. Wess. ..... Mr. Wess?" The waitress jarred Wess out of his memories, gently landing him back in the bar. When his eyes focused on her, she smiled sweetly and offered an explanation for the interruption. "I'm sorry to bother you, but there is a gentleman waiting to see you. Says he's early for his appointment but was hoping that you could get to him now." Wess' mind was still fuzzy but he managed to say, "Of course, bring him on back." As expected, the guy was number six, the ex-Marine. Eleven minutes into the interview, Wess had heard enough and ended their meeting. He was convinced that there would be a serious lack of trust on his part. Checking the time, Wess found that he was more than a half-hour ahead of schedule now and would have a nice long wait for number seven. He ordered another cup of the rank liquid they passed-off as coffee and removed the information about number seven from the folder. Number 7 seemed to be an oddball. He’d grown up in Chicago and almost immediately had become a professional mercenary. That seemed strange to Wess. He couldn't understand why anyone would choose that profession first before trying anything else. Wess quickly decided that it didn't really matter why as long as the guy could do the job and do it well. Wess thought about Sharon Kay and was amazed at how easy it had been for her to take over the CEO position at his company. She is the perfect example of someone doing their job, and doing it well. As always, when Wess thought about Sharon Kay he relived the way they'd met. Wess remembered that by the end of his first day at the redneck high school, the other kids had him figured out. He didn't like wrestling, or pickup trucks, or NASCAR, and the only thing left was for him to be labeled a geek, or nerd, or pencil-head. There was only one other student that shared any of these labels: Sharon Kay Childs. Everyone assumed that Sharon Kay was a girl because of her name but no one could tell from her appearance alone. Sharon Kay wore her auburn hair in a tight bun and dresses that fit like a rain poncho. Her face and eyes might have been pretty but she wore huge glasses that completely hid any attractive features there might have been. Danny adopted the same mental image of Sharon Kay as the other boys in school: she was just a walking brain. He didn't see her as a girl but she was the only other student in the advanced placement classes and the only student that would talk to him. For this reason, they became close school friends and enjoyed the time they spent studying together. Wess remembered how that school year had gone by surprisingly fast and leaving school also meant leaving the only friend he had: Sharon Kay Childs. He'd worried that it was going to be a very long, very lonely summer. The following week, after graduation ceremonies, Danny approached Sharon Kay asking permission to see her socially. With a huge smile that threatened to split her face, "I was so hoping you'd want to." Thus began a summer of long talks and long walks. It was on one of these long walks that they found themselves on the bank of a secluded stream. The day was hot, the water was crystal clear and inviting, so naturally, they wanted to go for a swim, but were unprepared. Agreeing that underwear would serve the purpose, they went behind separate bushes to strip down. Being quicker, Danny was waiting when Sharon Kay stepped out from behind the bushes. Without the huge glasses, auburn hair down passed her shoulders, and wearing nothing but bra and panties, Danny discovered that Sharon Kay was a girl. Not just a girl, but a very attractive girl, and from that moment on, she was Danny's girl. A half-hour later, they simultaneously surrendered their virginity. That memory always aroused Wess and he found that today was no different. He was glad that the tabletop, coupled with the dim lighting, concealed the evidence of where his mind had taken him. He decided that as soon as possible he would go home to Sharon Kay and forget about the last three interviews. While waiting for the evidence to shrink, Wess gradually began noticing the sounds in the bar had changed from people laughing and talking to an eerie quiet. Looking up from number seven's application that he was rereading, Wess witnessed the crowd of people between him and the front door part like the Red Sea. Walking in the center of the six-foot-wide void was the scariest person Wess had ever seen, and the man appeared to be coming toward him. The closer the man got, the more detailed the visual impact became, and the more uncomfortable Wess became. The man stopped in front of Wess. "Mr. Wess, I'm Russell Spurlock. I believe I have an appointment." Wess was so preoccupied with Spurlock's appearance that he failed to notice the hand that had been offered. Spurlock's head and eyebrows had been shaven clean; his eyes were colorless and cold like small oval ice cubes. The dim bar lights contributed to the translucent appearance of Spurlock's skin bringing to mind every horror movie Wess had ever seen. The fingers on the hand in front of Wess wiggled getting his attention. Wess quickly reached out and shook Spurlock's extended hand. "Mr. Spurlock, please, have a seat. I was just looking over your application; impressive stuff." Spurlock stiffened and spoke sharply. "It's all true, every damn word, and I can prove it." Wess felt a tingle of fear run the length of his spine. "Oh, I didn't mean…I was not questioning the accuracy of your credentials; merely stating a fact." Russell Spurlock realized that he'd sparked at the wrong time and at the wrong person. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little touchy." "No problem. Don't worry about it." Wess returned his attention to the application for a few moments and waited for his heart rate to slow down and his breathing to speed up. When he was able, Wess caught the eye of a waitress who obviously didn't want to approach any closer. After ordering another coffee for himself and a beer for Spurlock, they talked for more than an hour. None of the other interviews had lasted more than half of the allotted thirty minutes and Wess was confident that he’d found the right man for the job. Spurlock’s application stated that he was 31 years old and Wess wasn’t convinced that was accurate but he wasn’t going to question the man. Spurlock is perfect. Not many men can cause mass fear by simply entering a room. He’s not dumb, but not especially bright, and he’ll do anything for the right price. Wess opened the folder and removed a fat envelope. He put it on the table and pushed it across to Spurlock but didn't take his hand off. Although it was difficult, Wess forced himself to look Spurlock in the eyes as he spoke. "Pick it up and count it. There will be another one just like it the first of every month." Wess removed his hand from the envelope and settled back in his seat but maintained the eye contact. "Understand this. For this price, I expect to be purchasing your loyalty as well as your services. I need to know that I can trust you with sensitive information." Without saying anything, Spurlock picked up the envelope and looked inside. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he thumbed through, counting the 100 $100 bills. His mind was racing with thoughts of how well he could live on $10,000 a month. He’d grown-up living on what was left of $10,000 a year after his alcoholic mother’s needs were taken care of. Needless to say, for him, this was a real windfall. He had no idea what Daniel Wess wanted him to do, but for this amount of money he didn't care, he would do it. Wess began talking again. "Of course, all travel expenses will be paid in addition to your salary and there will be quite a lot of travel; at least at first. I will also furnish appropriate personal transportation, but only for you." The two men sat studying each other for a moment, and then Wess asked, "Well, do we have a deal?" Spurlock's eyes seemed to come into focus. "Yeah, we got a deal." He slid the envelope into his pocket. "What do you want me to do?" Wess felt the tension leaving his body. I did it, I really did it. "Okay, I want you to hire forty men that you trust completely and that will do what they're told without questions. The pay for each man will be $5000 per month but you can have one man to be your right arm and help you manage the others. Choose this person carefully because if he messes up it could cost you your life. That said; his pay will be $7500 a month." Spurlock had started out trying to figure how much money this was going to cost Wess every month but soon gave up. He already knew who would be his second in command. Buddy Jinks was the only man that he would almost trust with his life, but not completely. Spurlock could not trust anybody completely. Wess interrupted Spurlock's thoughts. "Before you start hiring men, I need you to go look at some property to see if it is suitable for a compound. It's an apple orchard that belonged to my mother and now it's mine." He wasn't about to tell Spurlock that his mother had purchased that property for her parents and then her miserable father had refused to live there. Spurlock raised his hand to stop Wess. "A compound?" Wess spent the next 15 minutes outlining his plan, and when he finished Spurlock was amazed at how simple, yet brilliant, the plan really was. With only a few slight modifications, he would be proud to call it his own. Wess had earned his respect, but he was also clearly confused. Spurlock asked, "Is this orchard land close to some river?" At first Wess thought that Spurlock was lacking education, at least in geography, but then he realized that he had failed to say where the land was located. "Yes, of course. It's on the banks of the Hudson River near Fort Edward about 200 miles up-state Spend a few days up there and be certain it will serve our purpose. You can stay at the house; it is still completely furnished and all utilities are on. I’ll call Frank Kessler, the caretaker, and send him on vacation so you won’t have to worry about him sticking his nose in. Spurlock raised his hand again to stop Wess. "Is it okay if I take one man with me? I like to have somebody watching my back." "Yes, of course, not a problem." *** Wess got out of the taxi in front of his new condo feeling good about the steps he'd taken toward putting his plan for justice into action. He looked up at the night sky where he knew there were stars, but due to an abundance of artificial light, they were not visible and he was oddly disappointed. Shaking off the disappointment, Wess entered the building. He refused to allow anything to interfere with the satisfaction he felt. The good feeling came into question, however, when Wess entered his front door and saw that Sharon Kay was still up and apparently waiting for him. He put his coat and hat in the entrance closet before going into the living room. That’s where he found Sharon Kay sitting in the floor with her back against the soft leather sofa. She was wearing slacks and sweater that complemented her figure making her look sexy in a classy way. It appeared as though she'd been doing nothing, literally nothing. She’d not been reading, or watching TV, or listening to music; she was just sitting there doing nothing and although she’d decorated with expensive art, he could see that she was also staring at nothing. Looking at her now and remembering how she’d looked in high school still amazed Wess. One of the first things he’d done when they got to college, away from her parents, was to give Sharon Kay a complete makeover. A new wardrobe with stylish clothes that fit, a new hairdo, and contact lenses was all it had taken to transform the high school joke into a beautiful, desirable, woman. Joining Sharon Kay on the plush carpeted floor, Wess asked, "Why are you still up?" In almost a whisper she replied, "Couldn't sleep." Wess had noticed that she'd been acting a little strange lately but thought it was stress-related and normal under the circumstances. Sharon Kay had taken over as CEO of the company and had not been there long enough to feel comfortable in her new position. He knew that she was exceptionally smart and well qualified but guessed that it would still be a stressful leap into the corporate world. Wess slid his arm around Sharon Kay’s shoulders. "Let's go to bed and I'll hold you until you fall asleep." Making no effort to get up, she asked, "Where have you been?" Wess wasn’t surprised that she would ask. He’d already thought this matter through and decided that she should not, could not know what he was planning. It was not a question of trust; he trusted her completely. It was for her protection in case something went wrong. "I had some business to take care of." Wess gave her that same answer every time she asked about the time he devoted to his plan. Always before, Sharon Kay had believed everything Danny told her but things were different now. As the new CEO of the company, Sharon Kay was aware of everything going on with that business. She didn't want to believe that Danny would lie to her but… "You can go on to bed and I'll be along in a bit." “Okay.” Wess leaned into her expecting a goodnight kiss but Sharon Kay made no effort to respond.   March 18, 2007 Near Fort Edward, New York When Russell Spurlock and Buddy Jinks arrived at the address they’d been given, Spurlock stopped the rented car on the county road and both men stared at the house. They’d both participated in home invasions and burglaries and they’d always picked what they considered to be upscale homes but neither man had ever seen the inside of a place like this. Spurlock imagined that this house might have been plucked from a southern cotton plantation and dropped here. Although it was not yet spring and still cold, the perfectly manicured lawn was somehow already a lush green. Buddy Jinks sat on the passenger side of the car leaning forward to see around Spurlock and gawked at the house. It sat on a small rise among a cluster of mature oak trees and was facing the road. The four huge white columns in front appeared to be supporting a second story patio or possibly a dance floor. Jinks’ imagination was not as well developed as Spurlock’s and he was unable to compare this place with anything. Spurlock eased the car forward a few more feet and then turned into the driveway and stopped. Using two fingers, he removed a key from his shirt pocket and handed it to Jinks. “This is for that fancy mailbox. The kid said there would be a remote control in it that would open everything.” Jinks opened the car door and jumped out. He went to the front of the mailbox searching for a place to put the key but after a couple minutes gave up and turned to look at Spurlock. With a huge grin of superiority, Spurlock pushed a button causing the passenger side window to slide down. “It’s in the back, at the bottom close to the ground.” A few minutes later, Spurlock and Jinks watched the garage door go up and a few minutes after that they were in the most luxurious house either had ever seen. *** Russell Spurlock lay nude on the four-poster bed and watched nineteen-year-old Sandy McDougal come out of the bathroom and walk toward him. Her long raven-black hair hung over her shoulder so that it partially covered one bare breast. Her tanned skin glistening in the meager light that filtered passed the blinds into the room made her entrance even more erotic. Although Spurlock had already ravished her body twice that afternoon, he watched her with lust-filled eyes. Sandy McDougal gracefully slid her perfect body onto the bed and then rolled to meet him. Snuggling against Spurlock, she cooed, "Oooh Russie; you're so good I could…" Russie was the pet name Spurlock’s mother had called him every time she got drunk and slid into his bed naked. Spurlock tore himself away from Sandy McDougal and leaped out of the bed. When he turned to face her, there was a .45 caliber pistol in his hands and certain death in his eyes. Sandy McDougal wore a look of horror and her legs kicked wildly backing her against the hand-carved headboard. Franticly she screamed, "What's wrong with you? I didn't do anything!" "I warned you once; nobody calls me Russie." With no emotion, Spurlock fired causing the girl’s head to explode, splattering blood and bone fragments over the wall behind the bed. Within seconds, the bedroom door burst open and Buddy Jinks was lying face down on the plush floor. His 5' 5" 125 lbs. body was halfway in the room, his arms extended out in front of him with a two-handed grip on a sawed-off double barrel 12-gauge shotgun. Jinks quickly saw there was no danger and stood. "You all right Spurlock?" Spurlock had chosen Buddy Jinks to be his second in command. Jinks had tried to join the Army but had been turned down. Jinks tried to convince everyone it was because of his unusually small size but not everyone believed that. When all branches of the military failed to accept him, Jinks had his entire body covered with grotesque tattoos. After that, he became a mercenary. He was a mercenary that was harboring a grudge and had something to prove, and that made Buddy Jinks invaluable to Spurlock. Spurlock knew that Jinks would go the extra mile even if it meant he might not come back. Answering Jinks, Spurlock replied, "Yeah." He gazed at the perfect body that he had enjoyed just minutes earlier. "Plant another apple tree in the orchard and put this under it, and don't forget the lime, lots of lime." Remembering how good this one had been, Spurlock said, "Make it a golden-delicious tree this time." Spurlock had only been at the orchard property for eleven days and this was the second tree he'd added to the orchard. The nearby Fort Edward's Community College had a bumper crop of ripe young girls that were ready for harvesting. For some reason teenage girls seemed to think it was exciting to go out with someone they perceived to be dangerous and he was happy to oblige their fantasy and had never disappointed reality. After a moment, Spurlock added, "And be ready to leave in one hour; there's gonna be a fire." Up in smoke...all my problems, up in smoke. The corners of Spurlock's mouth curled slightly. And I don't have to give a shit; this place ain't mine. Hell, nothing is mine, but that's all gonna change; soon, real soon. Spurlock had known Daniel Wess for less than one month and could already see a brighter future. Ten days later March 28 New York City Daniel Wess Jr. sat in the black leather office chair with his eyes fixed on the computer screen. He was ignoring his business because he trusted Sharon Kay completely and because money was his least concern. Money I’ve got plenty of; what I need is a suitable place to put the rest of my plan into action. Finding Spurlock out of all those applicants seems almost magical, or maybe it was a divine intervention. Wess was the only one that understood how his need to do the right thing was the driving force behind everything he did. Without turning away from the monitor, Daniel Wess said, "Hey Spurlock, look at this. It's Breckinridge County Kentucky and it might be just what we are looking for." Wess gave a little laugh. "Only 33 people per square mile. Damn, I’ve seen that many people on our elevator.” Spurlock watched as Wess consulted weather maps that had no meaning to him and after a moment, Wess continued. “Yeah, this looks like it might even be better than the orchard place upstate that burned.” Wess tapped the keyboard and then studied the monitor. “We can fly into Louisville and drive from there." Wess knew that Sharon Kay was going to be pissed at him for taking off again without an explanation, but he was sure that someday she would understand and approve. For now however, it couldn't be helped, he had to do the right thing. Russell Spurlock sat on the corner of Wess’ desk where he could see the monitor but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about how he’d met Daniel Wess by answering an ad in the Soldier Of Fortune magazine and that Wess had been the only one to respond out of the more than 40 resumes he’d sent out. The kid’s got big ideas, maybe too big, but Wess definitely has big money and is willing to spend it. Spurlock grinned when he thought about the money. And I can damn sure help the kid spend it. When Spurlock had returned to the city from his trip to the orchard property, he’d not said anything about a fire, and when Wess mentioned it, he’d acted surprised. Spurlock assumed that Wess believed his act because nothing more had been said about it. Spurlock had however, assured Wess that the orchard property was not suitable for the type of compound they would need due to the lack of an accessible shipping point. Wess had seemed to buy that story as well and had immediately begun looking for a suitable place. Spurlock could hear Wess rambling on about the poverty-stricken county and the average yearly income of the farmers, but he wasn’t listening. He’d never been to Kentucky and all he knew about it was from stories, jokes, and clichés. The redneck part I can handle, but I wonder if they are really as stupid as people say. Spurlock’s mind tuned back in to what Wess was saying. “I’ll make the necessary travel arrangements.” Wess stopped talking and turned away from the computer screen to look at Spurlock. He couldn’t help feeling a bit apprehensive but he had to say it. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but if we are going to travel together we’ve got to do something about the way you look.” April 2 Louisville Kentucky After landing at the Louisville International Airport, Daniel Wess stepped off the plane looking like a mannequin from the prestigious Salvatore Ferragamo men's clothing store in Manhattan. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect teeth, one would expect that an exotic woman would step off behind him. Instead, it was Russell Spurlock. Following Wess' suggestions, Spurlock was wearing a polo shirt, khaki pants and leather sandals. With a fedora hat hiding his shaved head and dark sunglasses concealing his lack of eyebrows and cold eyes, they’d encountered no problems on the flight. For the first order of business, Wess attempted to rent a four-wheel drive pickup truck. Unable to find one easily, he took a taxi to the nearby Chevrolet dealership and purchased a new Silverado 4X4. Then he immediately found an independent garage that advertised their specialty as tricking-out 4X4's. With attitude, Wess explained that he wanted the truck maxed-out, but street legal. I would not have even known about stuff like this if I hadn't lived with my grouchy grandfather and his redneck neighbors. Maybe I learned something useful there after all. The extra work on the pickup made it necessary for them to stay in Louisville three days more than planned. Wess hated to be away from Sharon Kay that much longer but he was confident this was going to be worth it. Purchasing the new Silverado had nearly maxed-out his credit card so now Wess needed to open a checking account with a local bank. Finding a bank that had branch offices throughout the state, Wess deposited a cashier’s check for $800,000. Then Wess setup the account so that Spurlock could also write checks but only for the payment of real estate. Without wasting time, Wess had a real estate agent waiting to show him a number of farms by the time his new truck was ready. On day four, Daniel Wess, Russell Spurlock, and David Jessup, from the Breckenridge County Realtors, met for coffee at Powel's Restaurant four miles East of Cloverport on Highway 60. David Jessup had been waiting in the gravel parking lot for Daniel Wess' arrival and there was no mistaking the new 4X4. Jessup got out of his four-year old Buick and the car rose 2 inches on its suspension system. He waddled toward the new Chevrolet pickup wearing a suit that would have been rejected by the Salvation Army. In his left-hand, Jessup carried a hard-shell briefcase that was patched with black tape and his right hand was extended ready for the customary business handshake. Wess stood beside his new pickup wearing dark blue slacks and matching sweater over a cream-colored Polo shirt. Wess watched the grossly overweight man coming toward him but made no offer to take a few steps to meet him. When the realtor got close, he extended his hand even more expecting Daniel Wess to do the same. Wess looked at the fat sweaty hand and did not offer his own. "You must be the real estate guy I'm supposed to meet. I'm Daniel Wess, and this is my associate Russell Spurlock." Feeling shunned and with a look of embarrassment, Jessup quickly withdrew his hand. "I'm David Jessup with the Breckinridge County Realtors. Let's go in where it will be a bit more comfortable; shall we?" As they walked across the parking lot toward the restaurant Wess was looking closely at the building. It was a simple 30’ X 50’ cement block structure that had been painted white and then the words POWEL’S RESTAURANT were painted on in red. Wess made his decision before they ever went in. Nothing that came out of this place would go into his mouth. The three men entered the restaurant and Wess chose a table near the back that offered the most privacy. After they were seated, and with his eyes hidden behind dark sunshades, Spurlock looked across the table at David Jessup with contempt. How can anybody let themselves get in that shape? The fat-ass is at least 250 pounds overweight and walks like a frickin duck. Those glasses look like a goddamn VW bug’s windshield. The man ain't got no self-respect and he damn sure ain't got mine. Attempting to make friendly conversation, David Jessup asked, "How did somebody so young latch onto enough money to buy this much land?" Daniel Wess liked having Spurlock along because he felt safe enough that he didn’t have to be nice to people that were beneath him. "It doesn't really matter, now does it. As long I am willing to spend it with you so you can get your commission, you don't really care." There was an uncomfortable pause while David Jessup studied the young man's face for a sign of humor; there was none. A middle-aged waitress brought menus and Wess ordered coffee for everyone. The waitress seemed to sense the tension at the table, and without speaking, quickly retreated. Daniel Wess said, "I trust you did bring a map of Breckenridge County showing the location of the land in question." The Realtor reached for his old worn briefcase that was patched with black tape. "Actually, I brought a Tri-County map because some of the adjoining farms overlap into another county. Some of the farms are for sale, some are in foreclosure, and some are just abandoned." The waitress interrupted again. Without speaking, she sat the three cups of coffee on the table and walked away. Russell Spurlock had been sitting quietly with his arms resting on the table, until now. He leaned back in the chair and removed his sunglasses revealing colorless eyes and the absence of eyebrows. Next, he removed the hat, revealing his shaved head, and then spoke for the first time. "What's the bottom line? How many acres are we talking about?" David Jessup looked across the table and saw Spurlock without the hat, and sunglasses; a chill ran down his spine and he felt his skin crawl. In his 17 years as a realtor, Jessup had met a lot of people, but he’d never met anyone that looked pure evil, until now. He wanted to leave; but he wouldn't. He wanted to go home and tell his wife and daughter that he loved them; but he wouldn't. He had a chance to make more money with this deal than the total of what he’d made the previous year. His little girl might get to go to college after all. With a quiver in his high-pitched voice Jessup said, "About 6000 acres for sure and another 4000 if we can track down all the owner's." Daniel Wess saw Jessup's reaction to the way Spurlock looked. The man is definitely scared and that’s just what I want. I want everybody else to feel fear the way I did when I watched my parents die on television. Maybe then they’ll understand. Getting back to business Wess asked, "What did you mean about tracking down the owners?" The Realtor was glad for an excuse to avert his eyes away from Spurlock and back on Wess. "Well, I guess the Windsor family farm would be a good example. Charlie and Fiona purchased a 180-acre farm right after they got married, back in 1948. They had five kids, and all five grew up there, but then moved away. Their mom and dad passed away a while back, so now the farm belongs to the five kids, but none of them wants to live here. Three of the kids would sell it, but the other two won't. As for tracking them down, two of 'em live in Louisville, one in Chicago, one in Nashville, and one was somewhere out in California, last I heard. He's in the Air Force." "And there is 4000 acres tied-up like that?" Wess asked. Jessup nodded and Wess turned his head to look at Spurlock. "Can you handle that end of it?" Spurlock's answer sounded cold. "Not a problem." David Jessup looked across the table at Spurlock and when their eyes met, Jessup felt the air temperature around him drop. **** A half-hour later, Wess and Spurlock were back in the new pickup going west on state highway 60 toward Cloverport. They road in silence for several minutes and then Wess said what he was thinking. “I like the way all that land is connected, but none of it is close to the river. Without a shipping point, none of this will work.” Before Spurlock could think of a response, Wess stomped down hard on the brake pedal causing several things to happen simultaneously. The truck’s oversized tires complained with a short bark before the anti-lock braking system prevented the truck from sliding. The beefed-up suspension system was still new enough that it hadn’t as yet settled into its new environment causing it to make a metallic screeching pop. Fortunately, they’d been going less than 30-miles- per-hour and there was no traffic behind him. Spurlock was startled by the sudden stop and had one hand on the dash with his arm locked at the elbow bracing against the forward momentum. His other hand instinctively had gone behind him where he kept his handgun tucked away in the small of his back held in place by the waistband of his pants. By the time the truck came to a complete stop, Spurlock had the handgun out and was frantically searching for something to shoot. Seeing no threat triggered his quick temper which allowed his mouth to open and words to come out. Spurlock angrily spat, “What the fuck?” At that moment, Wess was completely in awe staring at something and didn’t seem to be aware of Spurlock. A few seconds later, he almost whispered, “Perfect, just fucking perfect.” Following Wess’ line of sight, Spurlock looked to see what Wess was talking about and instantly realized the younger man was right. “Perfect,” was the only way to describe the property they were seeing; at least perfect for their needs. There appeared to be a few acres bordered on two sides by water: the Ohio River and Town Creek. It was difficult to be sure because of the trees, but there appeared to be a house sitting near the point where the two rivers met. Even as soundproof as the new Silverado was, it did little against the blast of sound waves that suddenly bombarded the pickup’s cab. A huge Kenworth truck had stopped a few feet behind them and the angry driver was unleashing his frustration with the air-horns. While the sound waves were bouncing around inside the pickup, searching for a way out, the occupants realized two things: (1) there was a problem and, (2) they were it. The Silverado was at a complete stop on a state highway and in the middle of a steel bridge that spanned Town Creek. To make matters worse, this highway was also the only truck route to the smaller cities between Louisville and everything onward in northwestern Kentucky. While Wess was feeling fortunate that the only thing that had hit them was sound waves, Spurlock was spitting curse words and threatening to shoot the truck driver. Surprising Spurlock, and himself, Wess snapped. “Shut the hell up!” Oh shit! What did I just do? Wess couldn’t believe he’d said that, but it was too late now and he refused to apologize. He was afraid to look directly at Spurlock. He knew that he couldn’t conceal the fear he felt and he knew that if Spurlock saw it, the man would use that fear against him. It probably was a good thing that Wess didn’t look at Spurlock because at that moment the man’s unreadable face was like an open book. The lack of eyebrows and the missing pigmentation of his skin did little to hide Spurlock’s true feelings. All of Spurlock’s exposed flesh was engorged with blood causing it to appear to be painfully swollen and nearly purple in color. At that moment, one could call Spurlock a dickhead and be right on target. Spurlock had no choice and knew it; Wess controlled the money. He clamped his mouth shut and bit down hard to prevent any words from escaping, but nothing could stop his thoughts. You stupid fuckin’ rich kid. I orta grease your goddamn ears and stick your mother-fuckin’ head up your mother-fuckin ass, and by god someday I will, if you’re that fuckin’ lucky. Ignoring Spurlock and his fear, Wess drove to the end of the bridge where he found a large graveled pull-off. That’s where Wess stopped the Silverado but left the engine running to take advantage of the air conditioning. After taking a moment to gather his courage, Wess turned his head to face Spurlock and spoke. “I want that place. Find out who owns it and its current value.” Spurlock had been working hard to control his temper and was surprised at how well he’d done. Enough blood had drained from his face so that now, one could describe his color as hot pink and he could allow his mouth to open and form words. “I can do that. What if it’s not for sale?” Wess considered this for a moment, then said, “We have to have that place, but we can’t afford to get these small town cops all stirred up. For now, it will just be bad luck for anyone to say no.” April 7 The following morning, all signs of the tense moments of the previous day were seemingly forgotten and at 10:00, Wess and Spurlock entered David Jessup's office. At 10:15, Wess wrote a check for the full asking price of all the small farms that were for sale so that he now owned 6000 acres. Jessup handed Wess a folder containing all the information he’d obtained on the additional 4000 acres. Jessup said, "Some of those are family farms that are not for sale. But you own all the land around them, so if you still want all of your land to connect, you'll have to convince them to sell." Without looking inside the folder, Wess handed it to Spurlock and said, "Handle it, quickly." Turning his attention back to Jessup, Wess made the necessary arrangements so that Spurlock could finalize real estate deals on his own. Although he was very uncomfortable around Spurlock, David Jessup readily accepted these arrangements because he stood to profit immensely. Immensely enough that his daughter could go to college even without a scholarship and that made his comfort secondary. Wess waited until they left Jessup's office then said, "Let's go find you something to drive. I've got to get back to the city but I think you can handle things here; can't you?" Spurlock gave his standard catchall reply. "No problem." Wess asked, "Got any idea what kind of vehicle you want? Keep in mind it should be a 4X4." Without hesitation, Spurlock said, "Jeep." In 90 minutes, they were at the Jeep dealership in Owensboro Kentucky. While Wess was finalizing the deal on a new Jeep, Spurlock contacted Jinks and told him to hurry on down. Shortly after that, Wess came out of the business office and handed Spurlock the keys to a loner vehicle. Wess explained that he needed to go back to the city and that due to the modifications Spurlock had ordered the new Jeep would not be ready until the next afternoon. Wess told Spurlock that he should stay overnight in Owensboro and wait. Spurlock stood in front of the Jeep dealership and watched Wess drive away. I’ve had a hard-on for a CJ since I was a kid but couldn’t even afford a used one and now you’re giving me a brand new Wrangler. As the Silverado was absorbed by traffic and lost to sight, Spurlock had one more thought. I wonder what else you’re willing to give up. New York City Wess stood in the living room of his condo and looked around; he'd only been gone eight days but it felt like so much more. He went to the back of the condo where there was a large storage room where he kept a few special things that had been his parent’s. Wess hadn’t wanted most of the old family pictures but he had kept some of his mother’s jewelry including her high school class ring. He’d also kept several items belonging to his father including what was left of his favorite aftershave. Wess stood in the middle of the storage room and turned a complete circle. All of this stuff represents my past but Sharon Kay is my future. *** Wess felt good about the progress he was making toward launching his plan for justice and wanted to share the cheer with his Sharon Kay. He knew that she would still be at her office and he had plenty of time to prepare a surprise dinner for her. He called his favorite catering service and made the necessary arrangements to have a very special celebration dinner to be ready at 7:00 PM. The caterers arrived at 6:00 PM to begin setting things up and Sharon Kay walked in at 6:45. She was definitely surprised and overjoyed that Danny was home but then she wrongly assumed that his good cheer and the fantastic celebration marked the end of whatever his super-secret obsession had been. Sharon Kay was sure that it hadn’t been another woman because she was confident in her ability to keep her man from straying. She’d read everything that she could get her hands on about love and lovemaking. Everything from Dr. Phil to the sleazy publications available only online, she’d read it, learned it, and practiced it. Nevertheless, the way she viewed the situation, it didn’t have to be a woman. If her Danny consistently chose something else over her, it was a form of cheating. Sharon Kay thought back to her life before Daniel Wess. She’d been a normal teenage girl in many ways and at the same time, very different. At some point, she’d had a secret crush on almost every guy in that school including one teacher. The problem was that nobody had seen her as a girl: not the boys, not the teachers, not even the other girls. Thanks to her parents, Sharon Kay knew that other people viewed her as an it, a non-gender person, possibly non-human. Then along came Danny and everything changed. He was her first, everything. Daniel Wess was the first boy to pay attention to her, her first boyfriend, her first lover, and her first love. Yes, everything was different now. Every time she looked into a mirror, it was almost like a stranger was looking back. Sharon Kay wasn’t sure if she was truly pretty but she knew for sure that she was at least attractive because of the way men looked at her. The thought of cheating never entered Sharon Kay’s mind but she liked the way it made her feel when men turned to get a second look. April 11 Breckinridge County, KY Jinks had driven straight through without stopping for anything except gas and had made the trip from New York in 15 hours. When he arrived at the Hilltop Motel, there was a key waiting for him at the desk. Opening the door to room 5, he found a note on the bed from Spurlock. There was a list of names with instructions about how to obtain the land owned by everyone on the list. Spurlock had stressed the point that anything could happen to anyone as long as it could be blamed on bad luck. This caused Jinks toq grin. He was a firm believer that there was no such thing as luck and that whatever happened to a person was either caused by himself or somebody, somewhere. Before I can start causing some fuckin’ tobacco-chewin’ hillbilly a bunch of bad luck, I’ve got to get some sleep. *** Spurlock parked his new customized Jeep Wrangler in front of Johnny Blackburn's run-down 1930’s farmhouse and looked around. He’d been there a few hours earlier but with only moonlight hadn’t been able to see much. The house was a square structure that was perched on a column of carefully stacked rocks at all four corners. It had been constructed with ¾-inch boards and then at some point the outside walls had been covered with what appeared to be rolled roofing. The whole thing was topped off with a simple A-frame rusty metal roof. In the middle of the roof where the four rooms would meet, a single brick chimney jutted skyward. All exposed wood showed signs that it probably had been painted sometime in the distant past. From where he was parked, Spurlock could see two worn paths going away from the back of the house. The shortest path led to a wooden box with framework over it that supported a pulley strung with a rope that had a bucket attached to one end. Although he’d never actually seen one, Spurlock was sure this was a water-well. The other path was much longer and ended at a small building that appeared to be constructed with four 4X8 sheets of plywood. It too had a rusty metal roof but it was nearly flat. He had no doubt that this building was the ‘little shack out back’ that had been made famous by country music. Spurlock’s suspicion about the small building was confirmed when one of the sheets of plywood swung open and 14-year-old Susan Blackburn emerged. She was wearing bib overalls and was busy adjusting one of the straps when she noticed the strange vehicle stopped in front of her home. The girl froze in place for a half-moment and then sprinted toward home. Even at that distance, Spurlock could see the budding young lady inside the overalls and felt a tingle of desire. He knew that she would be moving but he didn’t think she’d go far and was certain that he could find her when he was ready. Spurlock pushed on the Jeep’s horn four times and then waited for someone to come out. He sat there for a full three minutes before Johnny Blackburn stepped out from around the corner of a shed with an ax in one hand and a chunk of wood in the other. He simply stood there looking at the new Jeep for several moments before dropping the stuff and starting toward it. Then it took the man another two minutes to cover the 150-yards separating them so that by the time Johnny Blackburn finally got to the Jeep, Spurlock was already pissed-off. Johnny Blackburn was a soft-spoken, slow talking man that said exactly what he was thinking. When he got beside the Jeep and got a close-up look at Spurlock he said, "Well I'll be danged. You're a right odd lookin' feller. What kin I do fer you?" With one hand, he plucked a twist of tobacco from a back pocket, bit off a generous piece, and then returned the remainder to his pocket. Spurlock wasn't amused by the hillbilly and chose to remain pissed-off. "I'm here to buy your farm." Blackburn shoved both hands behind the bib of his overalls and rolled a small stone around with the toe of his work boot. With a slight grin, he said, "That's mighty nice of you mister, but this old place ain't fer sale." He spat some dark amber slime that landed on the ground between his feet. Spurlock had already run out of patients and was struggling to maintain control of his temper. "I'll pay market price plus $5000. Hell, I'll make it $10,000 if you can be off the property within 10 days." Blackburn took one hand out from behind his bib, rubbed his chin and then put it back. Rocking on his feet, and with a sly smile, asked, "Do you know somethin' I don't?" Without waiting for an answer, "Don't really matter none.” Spat. “This place belonged to my daddy and his before him; reckon it will belong to my boy someday." Spurlock had expected this response and was prepared for it. Out of sight, he was holding a small metal box about the size of a pack of cigarettes, and using his thumb, flipped a small toggle switch and then pressed the red button. The air was instantly filled with a deafening boom and small wooden fragments that a moment before had been Blackburn's barn. Spurlock dropped the remote in the floorboard between his feet and without saying anything, simply drove away. He knew that Blackburn would need time to get over the shock caused by the explosion and then discover that most of his livestock was dead and his tractor destroyed. In a couple of days, Blackburn would understand that he only had two choices: face foreclosure or sell. Driving with one hand, Spurlock took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket to see who was next on his list.   April 14 Cloverport, Kentucky It was 6 AM and Leo Willard was on his back deck overlooking the Ohio River. Only half dressed in a pair of faded jeans, he was stretched out in a lounge chair enjoying the cool morning air on his bare chest and feet. Holding a large mug of steaming hot coffee, Leo watched the fog rising off the water. In the short time he’d been living there, watching the early morning sun burn the fog away from the surface of the river had become almost a ritual. Leo exhaled a breath of pure contentment and thought that the only way it could be better is if Cora could be there with him, and of course a cigarette. Leo thought about his wife, Cora, and the promise he’d made to stop smoking. Sometimes it seemed like a lifetime ago, but most of the time it seemed like only yesterday. Leo Willard leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Cora, honey, I hope you can see this. I think I've found something close to a little slice of heaven. Leo thought about Cora's courageous battle with cancer and about how much he missed her. Tye, Leo's german shepherd who had been lying on the deck beside him, stood and emitted a low rumbling warning growl. The last time Leo ignored Tye’s warning, he'd inherited a bullet in the back; only it was not even a real bullet. It was a, ‘I want to be a bullet when I grow up,’ piece of shit. The little .22 caliber bullet had bounced around inside him punching holes in everything it could before finally lodging in his spine. The tingle Leo felt with every step reminded him that it was still in there. It was also a reminder to pay attention when Tye gave him a warning. Leo put the coffee mug on the deck beside the lounge chair and reached up placing a hand on the back of Tye's neck. Together they watched the uninvited guest approach. "Are you Leo Willard?" "I am." "Good morning Mr. Willard." The uninvited guest climbed the five steps to the deck. His skin was colorless, similar to dry white chalk and seemed to be almost translucent. To add even more shock to his appearance he’d shaved his head and eyebrows. "I'm…" "I know who you are Mr. Spurlock. It's a small town." There was a sharper edge in Leo's voice than he had intended. Oh well, it is what it is. Keeping a watchful eye on the dog, Russell Spurlock ignored the tone in Leo's voice and took a step closer. "How much land do you have here, Leo?" Leo felt the muscles in Tye's neck tighten. "You can call me Mr. Willard. There's about 5 ½ acres. Why?" Leo knew that Spurlock was the muscle man for a guy that was buying a lot of land in the area but he didn’t have a lot. Attempting to ignore his fear of dogs, Spurlock took another step toward Leo Willard. "I came here to make you an offer for this property.” With a menacing tone that couldn't be missed he added, “An offer you can't refuse." Leo had retired after 33 years with the U.S. Border Patrol, two-years sooner than planned. As a federal law enforcement officer on the U.S. and Mexico border, Leo had seen a lot, done a lot, and was not easily intimidated. "It's not for sale, but thanks for the offer." Spurlock's facial features changed, but with no eyebrows, it was difficult to read. "How do you know it's not for sale? You haven't heard the offer yet." Leo was beginning to get angry because of the attempted intimidation. Tye could sense something wasn't right and he could feel her muscles vibrating under his hand. "It's not for sale. Now, if you will excuse me." Leo made no attempt to get up and simply retrieved his coffee and then went back to watching the fog rise from the water. He knew that Tye would watch their guest and he trusted her completely. It took a full minute, sixty whole seconds, of being ignored before Spurlock left. Only then, did Leo realize how tense his own body had been. Leo Willard thought back to how and why he’d ended up in Cloverport Kentucky. He was living the retirement dream that he and Cora had shared for all those many years. After her death, he’d been caught in an ambush, inherited that pesky little bullet in the spine, and was instantly retired. Tye had been his partner for almost five years and was nearing retirement age herself. As a result, she had been discharged and allowed to stay with him. It had taken Leo seven months to find this place and it was nearly a perfect match for the shared retirement dream. It was located on the southwest bank of Town Creek where it emptied into the Ohio River and it was 11 miles up-river from the Cannelton Dam. The 1960s construction of that dam had created what appeared to be a one-mile wide and 114 miles-long lake. The water appeared to be static on the surface but had an unbelievably strong undercurrent. The property itself had several large trees that created an abundance of shade. The house was of the 1980's vintage, but had been well maintained and recently remodeled. However, it had been the sunset over the Ohio River, viewed from the rear deck that Leo had fallen in love with. At 61 years old, he’d said goodbye to his life in the desert near Douglas Arizona, and with Tye, had moved to Cloverport Kentucky. Leo sat the coffee mug down on the deck beside the lounge chair and ran his fingers through his silver/gray hair. If the rumors are true, Spurlock's employer has already attained several thousand acres around here. Leo's cop instincts were screaming that there was something wrong; it made no sense. Why would somebody with a lot of money buy a bunch of worthless land? Finally, he decided it had to be for a tax write-off. But then, why would he want my 5 ½ acres? Leo Willard stood to his full height of 5' 10" and then rocked up onto his toes stretching; reaching toward the heavens where his beloved wife, Cora, was patiently waiting for him to join her. When the stretch was over, Leo's hands fell to his side, and as always, the left hand brushed the top of Tye's head. He gave her a smile, "Okay, let's get our day started." *** Two hours later, Leo and Tye had eaten their breakfast and Leo had added a brown t-shirt and tennis shoes to go with his faded jeans. Together, they entered the local pool hall that was appropriately named Bill's Billiard Room because it was owned and operated by Bill. Leo had never heard anyone mention Bill's last name, but he was pretty sure that Bill had one. The first time Leo had seen Bill, he reminded Leo of a penguin in the way he walked, the shape of his body, and even his long pointed nose. Leo estimated Bill's age to be somewhere between 70 and 150 years. "Hey Leo," Bill yelled from across the room. "You and Tye come on over here and give this a listen." When Leo got close enough to hear, the story was already in progress. "… and when I got home it were gone. All of it. The house, the barn, even the damned old wood shed, and would you believe, our bran' new outhouse. And it were a two holer too." Leo had to wipe his mouth with his hand to hide a huge smile and cough to smother a laugh. He knew that, long ago, the more well to do families built out-houses with two holes: a large hole for the adults and a smaller one for the kids. When he regained control, Leo returned his attention to the man that had been speaking. The man spat tobacco juice into a sliced peaches can that he was holding and then rolled the huge wad of tobacco to the opposite cheek before continuing with the story. "Anyways, while me and the old woman was standin' there watchin' the smoke; who do you reckon pulls up? That skin-headed freak of nature that's been wantin' to buy my place, and he says it looked like I'd had some bad luck. Well, before I can run his sorry ass off, one of my tykes comes squallin' 'cause all the pigs is dead and both dogs is gone missin'." Spat into the can. "Now that bald feller, he kinda chuckles real mean like, and says it could've been a whole lot worse 'cause they was just pigs and not kids." Bill said, "Sounds kinda like he might've been threatening your little ones. Did it sound that way to you?" The guy shook his head thoughtfully and spat before answering. "Don't rightly know, but my old woman thought so and she says her and the kids ain't gonna live there no more." Spat. "And would you believe, that feller says the offer is still good even without no damn buildings; same deal as before." While the other men talked among themselves about the situation, Leo remained silent. He couldn't believe something like this could happen here in the middle of nowhere. Leo quickly decided that it must be a fantastic case of too much bad TV and an overactive imagination. He knew that Spurlock was trying to intimidate people into selling their land, but Leo didn't want to believe that the freaky-looking man would burn a family out. Leo knew that looking like a freak was not against the law, even in Kentucky. Leo leaned against the pool table and listened to the conversation; trying not to say anything for the fear of sounding like a cop. He’d made an effort to keep his past profession a secret. Cloverport was the second largest city in the county with a population of 1800. There was already a complete police force consisting of one full-time cop and two part-time deputies. The last thing any of them needed was even the thought of adding an old worn-out K-9 unit to the mix. By the time Leo left Bill's Billiard Room, he’d listened to all the redneck talk he could stand and was ready for a quiet walk with Tye. They made their way to the edge of town where the railroad tracks followed the Ohio River westward. Leo reached down, unsnapped the leash, and put it in his back pocket. Tye loved to be free to explore and satisfy her curiosity about the world around her, but not today. Today she insisted on staying close to Leo and was acting nervous. The way she was acting made Leo uncomfortable so he cut their walk short and went home. April 30 Tar Springs, 6 miles from Cloverport Kentucky The new JFV Headquarters Daniel Wess was sitting in his new Silverado 4X4 looking at the older ranch style brick home when Spurlock walked up to his window. An electric motor whined and the window went down. With disgust Wess said, "Are you fucking kidding me? This place is a dump." Wess was not in the best possible mood because Sharon Kay had been upset with him for leaving again without an explanation. For the first time ever, she had raised her voice at him in anger. Wess hated that most of all, and couldn't blame her, but he couldn't stop. Even if it meant that Sharon Kay was angry with him for a while, he had to do the right thing, especially after hurricane Katrina. Everybody knew that the government had purposely let all those people in New Orleans suffer and die just because they were mostly black and poor. The rest of the country was willing to look the other way for reasons that he didn’t understand. Not him; Wess knew that if he were to stop and not carry out his plan, the leaders of the free world would get away with multiple murders yet again. The thought of that happening made his stomach churn and bile rise up in his throat. No, no matter what else happened, he had to do the right thing. Spurlock stood beside Wess' pickup in his camouflage pants and sleeveless OD T-shirt nodding his bare head, completely unaware of Wess' problems. "Yeah, it's kinda old, but it's the best of the bunch, and a great location." Spurlock thought about the elderly couple that had lived there until a few days ago and how stubborn old man Bradley had been. It's a good thing the old fucker died in that fall or his bitchin' old lady would’ve never sold out. The corners of Spurlock’s mouth turned up slightly with his next thought. And it's a good thing nobody looked closer and just ruled his death an accident. Wess had been expecting something else, something better. "I hate to ask the members of Justice for Victims to have a shabby rat-infested headquarters." Spurlock said only part of what he was thinking. "I don't think they'll much care. It's the end results they care about." Wess sighed with resignation, opened his door, and stepped out. "Okay, let's go see this rat's nest." One Hour Later Wess was standing in the living room of the three-bedroom house dressed in his most casual attire: slacks and a polo shirt. He'd taken the grand tour and was not impressed with what he'd seen. The floor was covered with a worn dark brown carpet and the walls had been done with a dark rough-textured wood paneling. Although everything appeared to be immaculately clean, it still gave him the creeps. It reminded him of his grandfather and his time in Redneckville. "Okay Spurlock; do you think you can live here?" Spurlock nodded, "Sure, no problem." Stupid fuckin' rich kid don't know nothin' 'bout regular folks. Wess had never seen Spurlock's most recent living situation. The truth was that this house would actually be a giant step up from anything he'd ever had before. Spurlock had grown-up on the streets of Chicago's south side at a time when it was infested with angry gangs and their crazed dogs. Now, I’ve got me a great income, a new Jeep Wrangler, and now this house; all thanks to Mr. Daniel Wess Jr. Spurlock was living high and this was just the beginning; he was working on a plan of his own. Wess hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his slacks and continued to nod his head. "Alright. Turn that smallest bedroom into my office, and one of the other bedrooms will be mine when I'm here." Standing in that one spot, Wess turned all the way around taking one more look. Sounding defeated he said, "Oh what the hell; this will be the JFV headquarters. Go-ahead and start moving our people in; and buy as many mobile homes as you need." Wess went to the window and looked out as he spoke. "Set them up on that flat spot across the creek; I like the way the rock cliffs wrap around it." Spurlock hesitated slightly. "But, there ain't no bridge." "There will be." Wess had read the local newspaper on the flight down and had seen that the county was having an auction for an old steel bridge the very next morning. He stayed a few minutes longer and went over some details with Spurlock. When he left there, Wess found and hired a contractor to purchase and install the bridge. New York City When Wess got back to his condo he’d been gone scarcely 72-hours, but apparently, that had been too long because Sharon Kay was angry. Or maybe he hadn't been gone long enough; he wasn’t sure. He’d found her sitting at the table with a cup of tea, fully dressed in black and wearing a frown that matched the outfit. There had been no welcome home, no hugs, no kisses, no I missed you, no nothing. Wess didn't have much experience with women, but he wasn't stupid and knew this was not good. Wess pleaded, "Sharon Kay, you know that I love you. Please talk to me." She raised her emerald green eyes to meet his blue ones. "Okay. If you really do love me, tell me what you're spending so much time with. Whatever it is, it seems to be more important to you than I am." Wess looked away unable to meet her eyes. He’d thought through this many times and from every conceivable angle. For her own protection, Sharon Kay couldn't know what he was planning. "I really do love you and that's why I can't tell you what I'm doing." That was the same answer that he'd given her before and she was finding it increasingly difficult to accept. In almost a monotone, she spoke barely above a whisper. "I made up the bed in the guestroom for you. I need to think." Sharon Kay waited until she heard the guestroom door shut and then she slumped in her chair unable to keep her thoughts in check. She remembered how Danny had made her the most important thing in his life that first summer before they’d left for college. After a few months at the university, it had felt to her as if something was pulling Danny away from her. She’d tried to make herself believe that it was his studies, but now she knew that it was something else. Sharon Kay was convinced that whatever that something was, it had gotten stronger over time. *** After a week of separate bedrooms, everything went from bad to worse when Sharon Kay received a fax from the company's accounting firm. She was instantly consumed with a full-blown rage and went home from work early. Now, she was standing in front of Wess, with both knees locked back, her arms folded across her chest, her nostrils flared, and her face red. Both hands were clenched into tight fists with the fax gripped in one of them. Sharon Kay handed the fax to Wess and then spoke through tight lips. "Explain this." Wess took the fax, lifted the cover page, and read what the accountant had written. Although the profits have increased significantly this quarter, the bottom line of the company's total net worth has decreased dramatically. The reason for the imbalances are the massive cash withdrawals taken from the cash reserve. The aforementioned withdrawals were made by Mr. Wess and I cannot find any receipts justifying these withdrawals. Please remedy this ASAP. When Wess finished reading, he looked up at Sharon Kay; her stance hadn't changed. "Well?" she said. Wess wanted to say something she wanted to hear, but he couldn't. He purposely hadn't kept any receipts and paid for everything with cash. How could he make her understand that he was doing the right thing without saying too much? "Well?" she said again. Wess disliked being interrupted when attempting to think through a problem and had a bad habit of becoming snappy. Without first considering his words, he spoke. "Well what?" The instant those words passed through his lips, Wess knew it had been the wrong thing to say. He risked a quick glance at Sharon Kay's face and that’s all it took to confirm it. Sharon Kay hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Never mind, I think you've said enough." Turning her back on Daniel Wess, Sharon Kay Childs rushed from the room and a moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut. The resounding bang of the door sounded more like a gunshot to Wess and he knew that it marked the death of their relationship. May 2 Hilltop Motel As agreed upon earlier in the week, Jinks was standing in front of Spurlock’s motel room door at precisely 7:30 that morning. They’d been working separately to convince unwilling landowners to sell their property and now it was time to compare notes so that Spurlock could report their progress to Wess. Jinks had gotten up at 5:00 AM, had already taken care of the Triple S, (shit shower shave), had his notes in order, and was otherwise completely ready. He glanced at his watch one more time and then knocked on Spurlock’s door. Waited. After a few moments, he knocked again, this time with slightly more force. Waited. Jinks leaned closer to the door hoping to hear the sounds of movement or the shower running. Nothing. Looking over his shoulder at the parking lot, Jinks could see the customized Jeep Wrangler and was sure that Spurlock was still there. Waited. Jinks checked his watch again and saw that it was 7:33 and it actually changed to 7:34 while he was looking at it. Jinks thought, and wondered if he should be worried because Spurlock was very anal about being on time: not one minute early or 1 minute late, but on time. It was one of Spurlock’s quirks and Jinks had been with Spurlock long enough to know that the only time Spurlock deviated on this subject was when.... Jinks smiled and slowly shook his head. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked the bottom of Spurlock’s door with enough force to rattle the window that was 3 feet away. Waited. This time, Jinks heard a response. From inside the room, a complaining female voice shouted. “Hey, what the hell!” A half-minute later, the door to Spurlock’s room opened and a completely naked Russell Spurlock was pushing something through the open doorway. Jinks watched as that something began taking shape and seemed to be the source of the female voice he’d heard moments earlier and was still hearing. When the shape was all the way through the door and into the light of day it was easy to see what the shape was. There was the young lady wrapped in a blanket with only her head visible. She was using one hand to keep the blanket in place while the other hand was clutching a bundle of clothes. Jinks watched Spurlock disappear from view for a few seconds before returning with a pair of girl’s sneakers that he sent flying through the air passed the angry girl and into the parking lot. Spurlock said, “Hey man, come on in while I get dressed.” Jinks walked passed the confused angry girl, ignoring the obscenities that were flowing out of her mouth and stepped into Spurlock’s motel room closing the door. Still naked, Spurlock was on the far side of the bed gathering the clothes he’d hastily shucked off the night before. Looking around Spurlock’s room, Jinks wasn’t surprised to see that it was almost an exact copy of his own room next door. The only real differences were in the colors and condition of the mismatched furniture. Before Jinks could ask the question, Spurlock gave him the answer. With an uncharacteristic toothy smile, Spurlock gave him the good news. “Wess agreed on the place I picked out for the headquarters and wants me to live there. Then the dumbass kid handed me $100,000 in cash to fix the place up and furnish it.” He sat on the edge of the bed and began dressing. “I won’t be staying here anymore, and before you ask, you my friend, have hit the mother lode.” Spurlock stood, pulled his pants up, drop back down onto the bed, and began putting his socks on. “You will be moving into a brand new mobile home as soon as it’s delivered.” This news also produced a large toothy smile on Jinks which was extremely rare because it showed the horrible condition of his crooked teeth. He’d learned at a young age that his small size and crooked teeth provided the bullies with all they needed to make his life miserable. He’d also learned that he couldn’t change the way he looked, but if he was mean enough, the teasing would stop. Before Jinks heard the news, he’d been appalled to see Spurlock putting the same clothes back on that he’d worn the previous day, but somehow that no longer mattered. Jinks had grown up in a midsize city, 60 miles south of Indianapolis Indiana in a low-income housing project. To him, a new mobile home located in the country would indeed be the mother lode. Spurlock continued. “Anyway, I’ve got a special job for you and it needs to be done tonight.” Jinks turned to face Spurlock so he wouldn’t miss anything that was said. Spurlock pulled his sock on and then glanced up to see that he had Jinks’ full attention before continuing. “I want you to kill a dog for me.” Spurlock watched Jinks tilt his head slightly to one side and knew he would have to offer an explanation. There was no way he would ever tell anyone the whole truth about the exchange he’d had with Leo Willard’s German Sheppard. Always before, when Spurlock had locked eyes with a dog, it had been the dog to break the contact and look away. Not this time, and that unnerved him. Spurlock continued. “It’s that damn Willard property. Without that little piece of the pie, this whole fuckin’ thing is down the shitter: all of it.” He bent over and began tying his boots. “The stupid old fucker wants to be a hard-ass and Wess wants us to convince him to sell without hurting him.” He finished with his boots and stood. Jinks still didn’t understand. “So what does a dog have to do with it?” Spurlock picked up a letter-size envelope from the nightstand and then took three steps to the foot of bed where Jinks was waiting. Handing the envelope to Jinks, he said, “That damn dog is the only thing in the world the old fuckers got. Do you have a better idea?” Jinks said nothing. After a long moment of silence, Spurlock continued. “That’s what I thought. Look, you need to be a little careful with that stuff.” He gestured with his head at the envelope Jinks was holding. “There’s two capsules in there and it only takes one to take down an 800 pound horse. I want you to put both pills in a ball of raw hamburger meat and feed it to the dog.” Jinks wondered, Why the overkill? He knew that it didn’t really matter why; he’d do it because Spurlock had told him to do it. Spurlock added, “Just make sure the fuckin’ mutt is dead.” This statement, coupled with Spurlock’s tone of voice, confirmed what Jinks had been thinking. Somehow, this is personal to Spurlock. Spurlock sat on the foot of bed while Jinks occupied the only chair in the small room and the two men discussed the properties they did and didn’t have. Spurlock was pleased with the progress they’d made in such a short time. If it wasn’t for Willard’s property, they could make do with what they already had. When their business was finished, Jinks opened the door and started to leave but then saw something and stopped. Jinks said, “Hey Spurlock, we might have a problem.” Spurlock came in behind Jinks and the two men stood in the doorway looking out at the parking lot. Sitting on the front bumper of Spurlock’s Jeep was the girl still wrapped in a blanket and clutching a bundle of clothing. Speaking quietly Spurlock said, “Don’t worry about it. You go ahead; I’ll take care of it.” Jinks said nothing and nodded his head. Stepping through the doorway he thought, fish food.  May 3 Cloverport Leo opened his eyes just enough to see the clock. It was 3:17AM; he’d been asleep for several hours. He didn't move or make a sound. He knew that something had awakened him but didn't know what. The 60W bug light on the front porch shined through the windows and cast a dim yellow glow throughout most of the house. The leaves rustling in the gentle breeze caused moving shadows on the wall beside the bed, creating a fertile environment for things imagined. Leo continued to pretend to be asleep waiting to learn what had awakened him. Several minutes slowly passed without an unusual sound and Leo was beginning to think he was being paranoid, but then he heard a metallic tinkling sound that he couldn't identify. At almost the same instant, he heard another sound, but knew exactly what this one was. Near the foot of his bed, the deep rumble of Tye's warning confirmed that he was not being paranoid or it was just his imagination. Like many of his peers, Leo had purchased his side arm from the government when he'd retired. And now, the federal issued 9mm SIG-Sauer P228 was in the nightstand beside the bed, but it was not loaded and the ammunition was in a box in the spare bedroom. This is ridiculous. Nobody around here has a reason to come after me. Nevertheless, when Leo moved he was careful to stay quiet and move slowly staying in the darkest shadows of the bedroom. Making his way to the open bedroom door, Leo stood peering into the darkened living room and felt Tye squeeze passed his leg. He could see Tye's dark form moving stiffly toward the front door with her head held low and ears laid back. Near halfway, she stopped, stood motionless, and then dropped to her belly. Watching Tye carefully, Leo waited another half-minute before turning on the overhead light. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and then he saw it. Two feet from the end of Tye's nose was a ball of raw hamburger meat the size of a golf ball. Leo gave Tye the command, "Stay", and then moved closer. It was easy to figure out what had been done, and how it was done, but the why was a mystery to Leo. The metallic tinkling sound had come from the mail-slot door and the meat will be poisoned. But why? Leo looked down at Tye and felt a flash of red-hot anger. Why would someone try to harm her? Then he felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude for the extra training that Tye had received. The area they’d been assigned to patrol near the Arizona/Mexico border had a serious coyote problem. Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence for people to put out poisoned meat as a way to control the coyotes. Because of this, Tye had learned not to eat anything that didn't come from her own food bowl. But this, this had been aimed directly at her. Why? Leo used a piece of old newspaper to pick up the raw meatball and carefully broke it open. Inside, he found two white capsules confirming his suspicion of poison. He didn't know what was in the capsules, but he was convinced that regardless of what it was, it was not intended to be good for a dog. Wrapping the paper around the raw meat, Leo took it into the kitchen, sealed it in a plastic bag, and then put it in the freezer section of the refrigerator. Turning around, he saw that Tye was still holding her position and had not moved. Leo used the next several minutes rewarding Tye with an abundance of love and praise. It was still two hours before daylight but Leo was wide-awake and going back to bed would be useless. After turning off all the lights, they sat in the darkened living room where Tye could doze and Leo could think. Who would do such a thing? OK, so I had made a few enemies doing my job. That's just the kind of job I had; but that was then, and this is now, and now I'm retired. Besides, that was Arizona and this is Kentucky. Leo's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the huge diesel engines of a riverboat. Yeah Cora honey, I know. There ain't no riverfront property in Arizona. Leo smiled up at his wife and then turned his attention back to that morning. Maybe one of the drug-runners that I put away got out and is looking to settle the score. But how could they find me here? Tye raised her head, looked up at Leo, then lay back down, and was almost instantly asleep. Maybe it's not somebody from way back. Maybe it's somebody from right here; maybe that skinhead freak that wanted to buy this place. Oh hell, now I'm sounding like a nutcase. Leo glanced up at the window and found that the stars were no longer visible. The sky had changed from black to a sheet of pre-dawn foggy-gray. It gently covered the earth like a soft blanket and suggested that a beautiful day would soon follow. He spent another half-hour trying to figure-out what was going on, but the question of why rolled around in his head like a BB in a boxcar. He became frustrated, then irritated, and finally it became clear that he needed to stop, for now. Although Leo didn't know who or why, there was one thing he did know; he needed to find the ammunition for his pistol. Tye dutifully followed Leo into the spare bedroom and watched while he searched through boxes that had not been opened since the move. When Leo finally found the ammunition, Tye followed him back to the bedroom and watched as he loaded the standard 12-round magazine with the 9mm, 147gr hollow point rounds. After sliding the magazine home, Leo manually worked the action one time making the weapon ready to fire. He checked the safety, gently placed the pistol on the nightstand, and covered it with a pamphlet from the local Baptist Church. Continuing her vigil, Tye followed Leo as he went into the kitchen to make coffee. At 9:00 that morning, Leo was dressed in white tee shirt and jeans, sitting outside City Hall waiting for someone to unlock the door. This single building housed the mayor's office, the city clerk's office, the city's utilities office, and the chief of police's office, which was also the police station. The police didn't really need a separate building because there was only one full-time cop and no jail. If it became necessary to lock up someone, the arresting officer had to take the prisoner to the county jail 14 miles away. At 9:25, the city's one and only police car parked in front of the building in its designated parking space. A tall fellow with dark features, wearing a police officer's uniform complete with badge and gun stepped out. He walked around in front of the car, stepped onto the sidewalk, saw Tye, and froze. "You got a good grip on that damn mutt? If it comes after me, I'll shoot it." His eyes narrowed and his hand rested on the holstered revolver. Leo was surprised at the cop's reaction and tried to sound reassuring. "It's okay, she won't hurt you." An old man leaning against the building cackled with laughter. "Don't worry mister. If Charlie was to shoot at your dog, it would be the only thing safe in the whole neighborhood." More laughter. The city cop gave the old man a look of disgust but said nothing. Watching Tye carefully, he made his way to the City Hall's front door, unlocked it, and quickly stepped through closing it loudly. Leo waited another moment and then he and Tye followed the cop. Opening the door, the first thing Leo noticed was the air conditioning, and the second thing was the absence of seating. He assumed that would be to discourage loafers on hot summer days. The design of the building was simple but efficient. Upon entering, Leo found himself in an 8'X12' foyer with limited choices of where to go next. The door on his left was to the Mayor's Office; the door on his right was to the City Clerk's Office; and straight ahead on the back wall he could choose either the City Utilities or Chief of Police. The Chief of Police's door was blocked open with an unpainted concrete squirrel and the cop was standing at a file cabinet with his back to the door. Leo cleared his throat as a way of announcing his presence. Without turning around, the cop said, "Just a second." "No problem; take your time." When the cop finished looking through the folder, he put it in the cabinet, and then turned around. Seeing Tye, his hand instantly went to the revolver on his belt, every muscle in his body tightened, and his eyes bulged with fear. "That damn dog can't be in here. Take it out." "She is the reason I'm here. I think somebody is trying to kill her." "So?" Leo was becoming angry but had it well under control. At that moment, he realized that he would have to explain who they were before this cop would consider helping, and maybe not then. "So? I'll tell you, so. She is a retired federal officer, and she was, and still is, my partner. She is also your superior, so, I believe a proper amount of respect is due." Leo's voice was sharper than he’d intended. "Besides that, she is showing you a ton of respect and demonstrating an enormous amount of self control, right now. But I can guarantee that if you pull your weapon, she will take you down before you can get a shot off." For the first time, the cop's eyes broke away from Tye and glanced up at Leo, but only for a second. When his focus returned to Tye, his mind seemed to finally comprehend what his eyes were seeing. A large dog, head low, ears back, in a crouched position, with muscles tight and bulging. At that moment, neither the cop nor the dog appeared to be breathing. The cop slowly moved his hand away from his gun and then gradually began easing his stance. When he was standing at his full height of six-foot, he raised one hand to his forehead and smeared sweat back over his short, dark brown hair. Smiling at Leo, the cop said, "That was a close one." Leo thought, you have no idea. He wanted to tell the cop that had been a dumbass thing to do. Actually, there were a number of things Leo wanted to say, but he needed the cop's help so only said, "Yeah." "Why didn't you tell me that you are a cop?" "I just did." "I mean before; when you first moved here." Leo glanced at Tye and saw that she was no longer crouched down and her ears were standing up but she was still tense. He had total trust in Tye's judgment of this cop, and if she couldn't relax around him, neither could he. "Like I said, we are retired. Kinda wanted to leave that life in Arizona." The city cop smiled showing crooked yellow teeth. "Sounds like you might've brought some of it with you anyway." The anger Leo felt was quickly becoming harder to control. "I don't think so. It's not often that a stranger comes through here, and when one does, its big news. Have you heard of any?" The only response Leo got was a blank stare and after a moment, he continued. "I believe it has to be somebody local." The cop stood in front of the file cabinet with his feet wide apart and his arms folded across his chest. "Why would anybody around here want to kill your dog?" "You did." No response. They talked for a half-hour and Leo told him the whole story about Spurlock and the raw hamburger meat. The cop listened, nodded his head occasionally, but took no notes and asked no questions. As Leo was leaving, the cop handed him an application to become a deputy and asked him to think about it. By the time Leo got to the sidewalk, he was convinced there would be no help from the city police. He was on his own. Just me and Tye with no backup. Even in the desert, I had somebody I could call. It was a beautiful spring day; warm, but not too hot and with a gentle breeze coming from the West. Mother Nature was showing off her finest dress in every spectacular color available to her. It was a truly amazing display, but Leo saw none of it on the short walk home. What was that cop's problem? I know that small town cops are generally not the best and brightest, but this guy… Maybe this poison meat thing was just an isolated incident; some punk with too much time on his hands. Leo looked up and realized that he was standing in his own front yard and had no idea how he got there. He started walking toward the front door holding the leash with one hand, and digging in his pocket for keys with the other. Suddenly the leash was stretched tight behind him; Tye had stopped. She was in her warning position with her belly on the ground and her ears flat against her head. She had been taught to do this instead of barking because sometimes silence was important. Leo took three steps back and stood beside Tye. His eyes were searching for whomever or whatever she was warning him about. After two minutes of seeing and hearing nothing, Leo reached down and removed the leash from Tye's collar. She took off at a hard run, keeping her body low and close to the ground. Without slowing down, she turned at the corner of the house disappearing from view. Almost instantly, the hollow pop of a shotgun blast erupted from behind the house and it was closely followed by a second. *** "All I heard were the two shotgun blasts and then a boat taking off. When I got to where I could see, it was too far away to positively identify. All I know for sure is that it was a late model blue bass boat with white trim." Leo was sitting on the steps to the back deck looking at Tye's bloody body and wondering why he’d bothered to call the Cloverport cop. Being a smartass, the city cop tapped Tye on the top of her head with the side of his shoe and glanced over at Leo. "I reckon you was right about somebody wantin' to kill your dog. You must have pissed somebody off, big-time." That was enough, Leo was done being nice. "Are you gonna go do your job, or are you gonna just stand there jerking yourself off?" The cop's eyes told Leo that now he really had pissed somebody off, big-time. "Even if I could find out who shot your dog, the most I could charge them with is shooting in the city limits, and that's not worth my time." Leo watched the cop strut to his car and then drive away. He returned to the back deck and sat there trying to control his anger while at the same time trying to understand what was going on. A few minutes later, Leo made his decision and began working the crime scene himself. Nobody seemed to understand that Tye had been more than just his dog. She had been his partner, his best friend, and the only thing remaining in his life that he cared about. He’d lost his wife, his job, and now, Tye was gone too. Leo knew why his wife had died and he knew why he’d retired early but he didn’t know why somebody would kill Tye. At least not yet. Moving slowly, Leo examined every square inch of the ground between the back of his house and the river. He didn't find any spent shotgun shells but did find four fresh cigarette butts in one clump near the corner of the house where someone had been waiting to ambush Tye. He also found three dry cigarette butts on the riverbank that would have washed away with the next wave from a passing riverboat. Now Leo had some information; not much but it was a start. There had been two of them, and they both smoke. The shooter used Marlboro brand and the boat's operator used Winston. 10:54AM Spurlock and Jinks As prearranged the previous day, Spurlock turned toward the old abandoned graveyard that was hidden from view behind a stand of trees. Bouncing along the dirt two-track, he hoped that Jinks was already there and had the good news he wanted to hear. The meeting had been set to take place at 11:00 and he would normally not be early but this was special. There was something different about this dog and he needed to know if it was dead. Two minutes later, Spurlock’s new Jeep Wrangler rolled to stop beside a beat-up old Jeep Wagoneer. Spurlock felt the rush of hot May air hit him in the face as his dark tinted window rolled down. Coming from Chicago, he wasn't accustomed to the weather in May being this warm, but the A/C on the new Jeep worked great so he didn't care. Spurlock frowned at the rusty old Jeep Wagoneer when he heard the driver's door open with a metallic screeching pop. He waited until Jinks was standing beside his open window before speaking. "Man that is one sorry piece of shit you're driving." Spurlock went through the same spiel every chance he got. He enjoyed gloating over his good luck and rubbing Jinks' nose in the fact that he had something better. Buddy Jinks nodded his head in agreement, again. He was secretly tired of Spurlock’s bragging and it would remain a secret. "Yeah, but you said to hurry and that I'd need a 4-wheel drive. This sorry piece of shit is the only one I could afford. I don't have somebody with deep pockets lookin' out for my ass." Spurlock chuckled, "Yeah that dumbass kid paid for my ride and my crib, and he don’t know it yet but he’s just gettin’ started." Seriously. "Anyway, did you get rid of that damn dog last night?" Jinks watched his foot play with a rock as he spoke. "Not last night. I tried but it didn’t work so I took care of it this morning. It’s dead now, but I had to shoot the goddamn thing." Spurlock almost shouted, "What the fuck man! I gave you enough shit to take down a huge goddamn horse." Jinks didn't understand why Spurlock hated dogs so much and spoke defensively. "I put the shit in raw hamburger meat like you said. Maybe that mutt was a fuckin' vegetarian or somethin'. At any rate, the bitch is dead now." Spurlock's temper subsided as quickly as it had flared, and with a chuckle, he spoke quietly. "Maybe I should go offer my heartfelt condolences.” 12:05 PM Leo had just finished covering Tye's grave with several large flat rocks when he heard a vehicle in the driveway. Moving to where he could see, Leo discovered a new all black Jeep Wrangler 4X4, unlike any he’d seen before. There was not a single piece of chrome in sight, the oversized tires did not have white lettering, the wheels were black, and even the windows were tinted black. That’s odd, must be made to order, Leo thought. The driver's door opened and Russell Spurlock's shaved head came into view. He got out and stood beside the Jeep looking toward the house waiting for Leo to show himself. Spurlock was wearing faded jeans, a lightweight black leather vest with no shirt, and a pair of black wraparound sunglasses. It was obvious that Spurlock was attempting to look intimidating. Okay freak, you picked the wrong time to show up. Does he know about Tye? Leo began walking toward him and covered nearly half the distance before Spurlock saw him. Ahhh, poor peripheral vision; good to know. "What do you want? I'm kinda busy." "I heard you had some bad luck; just stopped by to offer my condolences." The corners of Spurlock’s mouth twisted up slightly. Leo didn't stop walking until he was in Spurlock's personal space and that made him visibly uncomfortable. Leo felt sure that very few, if any, people had deliberately gotten in Spurlock's face. The stench of Spurlock’s breath threatened to trigger Leo’s gag reflex and he had to swallow in order to control it. The two were almost identical in height, weight, and build but Leo was 30-years Spurlock's senior; and Leo still had most of his hair, even if it was gray. Leo's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Apparently, news travels fast around here. You seem to know a lot about what's going on with everybody's bad luck. Maybe you even know who's behind it." With his butt against the vehicle, Spurlock shuffled sideways enough to get the Jeep's door open and then quickly stepped behind it. With the door acting as a barrier between them, Spurlock finally spoke. "Afraid I can't help you with that." He slid in under the steering wheel and into his comfort zone. "I think this place might be Jinksed." He smiled at his clever play on words. "This place just might be packed full of bad luck; but I'll take it off your hands anyway. Think about it. I'll make you a good offer for it; bad luck and all." Leo thought there might have been an underlying threat in there, but wasn't sure. "Not for sale. I'll take my chances with the luck." Spurlock's smile was not a friendly one. "We'll see, won’t we." Leo noted that this had been a statement, not a question. He’d been a cop for so long that he rarely missed much and he’d seen the faint smile at the corners of Spurlock’s mouth but had no idea what it meant. Before he could find out, the Jeep’s engine roared to life and Spurlock backed all the way out of the driveway. 12:40 PM Leo sat gazing at the laptop's screen wondering if he was doing the right thing. Spurlock's last four words, "We'll see, won’t we", were still ringing in his ears as he re-read the e-mail and then clicked send. Leo had worked with FBI agent Hal Hackney on a kidnapping case more than nine years earlier, and against all odds, they’d become friends. Leo didn't think it was possible for him to be friends with a FBI agent, but Hal was different. He wasn't a prick, jerk, or jackass like most FBI guys; Hal was just plain ordinary folks like everybody else. They’d kept in touch over the years and Leo was aware that Hal didn't do fieldwork anymore. Hal had climbed the FBI ladder all the way to the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia where he was an instructor in the computer lab. Leo stood and allowed his left hand to hang at his side; something was wrong. For the first time in several years, Tye wasn't there. That fueled Leo's anger and he went into the bedroom. Due to sweating, he had to put on a clean tee shirt, and then got his SIG off the nightstand. Positioning the handgun in the small of his back, he made sure that his shirt was out of his pants so the gun was completely concealed. Leo had a gut feeling that he might need it. Leo carefully locked the front door and then walked out into the driveway. Before he climbed into his three-year-old Ford Taurus, he stopped and looked toward Tye's grave. Leo's anger was slowly turning into determination; he needed to know why she had been killed. It took Leo less than ten minutes to get to Bill's Billiard Room where he could start his search. Leo was convinced that if there was any gossip, anywhere, about anything, Bill would know about it and be happy to share. As usual, there was an empty parking space near the front door and Leo took it. That’s another advantage to living in a small town. Leo found the pool hall open but deserted. Bill lived behind the pool hall in the same building and the door to his living quarters was blocked open. Before Leo got halfway across the room, Bill stepped out with a glass of tea in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. They exchanged pleasantries and then Leo began asking his questions and Bill was happy to answer them. Leo asked, “Do you remember the last time I was here and some guy was talking about his house burning down? He said something about a run of bad luck and maybe selling his farm.” "Yeah, that was Tobias Morgan that got burned out, and I believe he went ahead and sold his place after that; but he ain't the only one.” Shaking his head sadly, “Seems like we’ve been hit with a plague of bad luck." He raised his eyes to meet Leo’s. “But that Spurlock fellow is always there ready to buy.” Bill looked around and then asked, "Where's Tye?" Leo offered only a partial answer with no explanation. "She died." By the time Leo left the pool hall, he had three more names of people that had sold land to Spurlock after having an unusual run of bad luck. The first name on the list was Tobias Morgan and Bill believed that he was staying with his wife's folks near McQuady until they could find another place. Leo took state road 105 all the way to the tiny McQuady store where he filled up with gas and asked for directions. "Can you tell me how to get to the Wilbur Cross farm?" The lady running the store laughed as if Leo had told a joke. "Sugar, you can't get there in this thing. I can tell you where, but I can't tell you how; not in this car." Leo produced pen and paper, and together they created a map that he might use later. Leo asked her about the other three names on the list but she didn't know any of them. He thanked her for all the help and then took highway 105 back to Cloverport. When Leo got to Main Street, he turned left toward the pool hall, saw Tobias Morgan's old pickup two blocks ahead, and simply followed him to the local used car lot. "Hey Leo, how ya hangin'," Tobias greeted. "You here to see Johnny's old pickup too?" Tobias led Leo to a section that was out of sight from the street and showed him the truck that he was talking about. "Johnny Clark bought this bran’ spankin’ new and always took special care of it. I reckon this is the only new truck the man ever had and Johnny babied it more than his wife. After Johnny passed on, Randy here bought it at the estate auction sale and then give it a new paint job and them bigger tires. It's one hell of a fine truck." 2:12PM An hour after arriving, Leo left Randy's Used Cars with all of the information he wanted about the names on the list. Leo was also driving the late Johnny Clark's 1978 Dodge RAM 4X4 with the new paint and bigger tires. The truck was designed to be a workhorse with a 440 cubic inch V8 engine, a massive 4-barrel carburetor, and duel exhaust. Leo could go anywhere now, unless he ran out of gas, but somebody else had thought of that too and installed duel 25-gallon tanks. Leo's next stop was to talk to Stanley Holmes, then Steve Holloway, and finally Johnny Blackburn. Each one told a similar story that connected Russell Spurlock to their bad luck and their reason for selling. Leo was convinced that Spurlock was forcing people to sell their land, but he couldn't prove it; yet. *** When Leo turned into his driveway, he saw a black Jeep sitting beside his house and Russell Spurlock walking away from it toward the river. Leo felt a flash of anger and, forgetting about what he was driving, stomped the gas pedal down against the floorboard. The 440 V8 engine roared, the oversized tires briefly slung gravel before getting a bite, and then the pickup leaped foreword. The quick response and speed of acceleration surprised Leo, and he had to slide sideways to get stopped without hitting the Jeep. Spurlock bounded up the riverbank toward Leo wearing a look that appeared to be pure rage. "What the fuck…" He stopped talking and moving when he saw Leo's Sig-Sauer. The 9mm unblinking one-eyed monster was looking right at him. Leo spoke in a soft even tone. "You are trespassing on private property." Leo had pointed his weapon at a number of people over the last thirty-plus years and very few had shown no fear. Spurlock slowly raised one hand and removed his black sunglasses. When their eyes met, Leo knew that Spurlock was one of those very few. Spurlock said, "I hear you came from Arizona. Well, this ain't the Wild West. Before you draw down on somebody and accuse them of trespassing, I suggest you study-up on the law in this state. The land has got to be posted and I don't see that first damn sign." His eyes left Leo's and focused on the 9mm Sig-Sauer. "That's a nice piece. Federal issue?" Without responding to Spurlock's question and without lowering his weapon, Leo said, "I'll put signs up immediately, but for now, get the hell off my property." Spurlock's hand moved slowly replacing the sunglasses onto his face and then moved to his shirt pocket. Digging deeply with two fingers, he removed a penny, held it for Leo to see, and then using his thumb flipped it into a nearby patch of weeds. Spurlock said, "When you get the time, find it and pick it up; maybe it’ll help, but I doubt it.” *** Leo stood in his driveway and watched the black Jeep until it was out of sight and then went into the house. He expected his anger to fade but it didn’t. For some reason, the thing Spurlock had done with the penny troubled him. Why would I need a penny? He sat in his favorite overstuffed chair watching the marquee screen saver on his laptop with the one word moving across the screen. Think Think Think Leo decided to think about something else and his mind went to FBI Agent Hal Hackney and the e-mail he’d sent earlier. When he logged on, the familiar, “You've got mail” sounded causing his pulse to quicken. When Leo opened the e-mail, he was surprised; it was not at all what he had been expecting. Leo, Please call me at 703-784-1234 anytime. We need to talk ASAP Hal Leo immediately placed the call and Hal answered on the second ring. "Hey Hal, this is Leo; I got your e-mail." "Leo, I'm glad you called. That guy you asked about, Russell Spurlock, he works for Daniel Wess Jr. and we think they both might be very dangerous people." There was a pause and Leo could sense that Hal was struggling with what to say next. "Are the fish biting?" That question surprised Leo; it seemed to be out of context. "I don't know. You want to come down and give it a try?" Hal chuckled, "Thought you'd never ask. My plane is landing in Louisville as we speak. I'll see you in a couple of hours." Leo cradled the phone. Fish my ass. Iron Ore Hill When Spurlock left Leo’s driveway, he’d headed straight for Iron Ore Hill, which was the highest point in the county and therefore had the best cell phone reception. He needed to contact the mercenaries that he’d already chosen and get them headed for Kentucky. There were a few other calls he needed to make while he was there but it was still early in the day so he drove slow. He needed time to think. Nobody had ever deliberately gotten in his personal space before and it had caught him completely by surprise. Then the old man had pulled out a Sig-Sauer P228 that could have been a federal issued weapon and it had unnerved him. What the hell is wrong with me? I let that old man bluff me, twice. First his damn mutt and then him. ... Fuck! Oh hell no! If I start thinking like that.... Driving with one hand on the wheel, Spurlock used his free hand and vigorously rubbed his face. Hell, I could’ve taken the old fucker. Shit, that’s what the bastard wanted but I’m too smart to fall for that shit. By the time Spurlock stopped the Jeep at the top of Iron Ore Hill, he’d convinced himself that he’d played Leo Willard as he’d planned to do from the beginning. Spurlock began calling his men. He’d handpicked every one of them and was sure of their qualifications. Most were specialized in one thing or another but they all shared at least two very important qualifications: (1) They would follow orders regardless of possible consequences; (2) they would do it without hesitation. The fifth man Spurlock called had a wonderful surprise for him at a reasonable price. The perfect woman: young, pretty, a good cook, and disposable. Spurlock knew that he would soon be too busy to go mall shopping for teenage girls. Although a bit older than he preferred, if this woman really was a good cook, she would be better than nothing. He quickly closed the deal for the woman and then made the remainder of the phone calls. Finished with business and happy with the results, Spurlock slid the Jeep into gear and started to drive away but stopped when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He instantly recognized the number and answered it. “Yeah?” Daniel Wess’ voice sounded strange. “I want you to get my office and my bedroom ready for me immediately. I might be staying there for a while.” Without waiting for a reply, Wess ended the call. Spurlock was stunned. He was positive that Wess had ended the call deliberately because he’d heard a distinctive click. He certainly hadn’t seen this coming. Spurlock turned the Jeep off and sat there thinking it through. He knew that Wess had a live-in girlfriend and that she was the only girlfriend the kid ever had. It took him less than thirty-seconds to figure out what the problem was and how to fix it. He’d just made the deal for a woman and he would gladly share her with the kid. Problem solved. Cloverport 8:44 PM It was that odd time of day, passed dusk but not all the way dark. The time when crickets begin their nightly serenade and the whippoorwill calls to its mate. Leo was sitting on the grass in the gathering darkness fifty feet from his house watching the driveway and waiting for Hal Hackney to show up. Something is going on and it must be something big. Hal doesn't do fieldwork anymore and the only way he could have gotten a flight that quick is to use the FBI's jet. Leo's mind raced from one thing to another trying to make sense of what was happening. He didn't think he’d ever heard of Daniel Wess Jr. and was positive that Spurlock was new to him. It would be damn hard to forget Spurlock. Cora, honey; take good care of Tye until I get there. Leo's mind stopped racing and went blank for a moment. Then he remembered something he’d heard when he was a kid. Find a penny pick it up All the day you'll have good luck Find a penny pick it up All the day you'll have good luck That jingle played over and over in Leo's mind until he suddenly leaped to his feet. Now he understood what Spurlock meant when he’d dropped that penny; it had been a backhanded threat. At that moment, Leo heard a loud vehicle slowing down on the street and then saw headlights sweep through the trees in his front yard and settle in his driveway. Whoever it was, they were certainly not attempting to sneak in quietly. The noisy vehicle had a prominent exhaust leak and numerous bangs and rattles that could be heard over the loud exhaust. Leo hunkered down and stayed where he was; out of line with the bouncing headlights. When the vehicle was positioned so that Leo could see, it was an old 1980's something Chevrolet step-side pickup with a short, narrow bed. When it stopped, a cloud of smoke, that had been following, caught-up and covered it like a fluffy blue blanket. The tired old Chevy sat with the engine idling roughly for a moment before it was shut off. The silence rang in Leo's ears, but only briefly, and then there was a loud metallic screeching pop as the truck’s door opened. A large man stepped out and looking directly at Leo, he said, "You're not hid very well Leo. Why don't you get up off your dead ass and give me a hand." Leo thought he recognized the voice but remained cautious until he got closer. It was indeed Hal Hackney but without the official FBI suit, tie and sunglasses, and without the traditional black Lincoln Town Car. Hal was dressed in faded, well-worn, bib overalls with a patch sewn on the inside covering a hole in the knee, a faded green tee shirt and dirty low top sneakers with no socks. He had completed the ensemble with a ragged green cap displaying the John Deere logo. "Bit early for Halloween isn't it?" "Hey, you invited me to go fishing, not to some formal dinner." Hal removed his cap, used it to wipe sweat from his brow, and then slapped it back on his head. "Besides this is comfortable, and I don't look out of place." Leo was standing beside the old pickup looking it over. The night wasn't dark enough to conceal a rust-hole behind the rear tire. The hole was large enough to easily put a football through it and Leo couldn't resist making a wise crack. "Nice ride. I’d bet it uses enough oil to keep the Middle East in business.” Hal's face cracked with his trademark cocky grin. "Everybody likes a little ass, but nobody likes a smart ass." He lifted a duffel bag out of the old truck's bed. "It was confiscated a couple years back in a drug raid and it was the only thing we had at the impound lot that looked like it might belong around here. I was afraid that a Corvette or a Beemer might sorta stick out and draw too much attention." 9:08 PM Leo and Hal were seated at the kitchen table waiting for the water to get hot and they’d both switched from coffee to tea because of the late hour. In the light, Leo could see that Hal hadn't changed much over the years. His dark brown hair was beginning to show some silver flecks and the thin spot on top was thinner. Regardless of his age, and his cushy office job, Hal was still an imposing figure. At 6' 7" and 260 pounds, he appeared to be solid and capable. Leo had already told Hal about Spurlock purchasing thousands of acres of land, and that he believed Spurlock was behind everybody's so-called "bad luck". Then Leo explained that Spurlock wanted to buy his place, and after saying no, somebody had killed Tye. Leo finished bringing Hal up-to-speed by telling him about Spurlock's penny trick and what he thought Spurlock had meant by it. Cora's favorite little porcelain teapot began whistling on the stove so Leo got up and poured the steaming water into their cups. Hal sat for a full minute slowly dipping a tea bag in and out of the hot water while gazing into the cup. He wanted to be as straight with his friend as possible without getting himself into trouble with the bureau. He trusted Leo completely but the people he worked for didn’t trust anybody. When Hal finally started talking, the words poured out. "Leo, we've been friends for a long time, but damn it, you know how the system works and you know it's not personal, but I can't tell you everything." Hal paused for a moment. "I can tell you that Daniel Wess Jr. lost both parents in the 9-11 attack on the World Trade Center. And that he recently turned 21 which gave him access to more than $760 million. He's angry, radical, and dangerous. We know he's up to something, but we don't know what." Leo whistled and then said what he was thinking. “That’s a lot of money for a pissed-off kid to make himself happy with.” Hal was still gazing into his cup as if expecting the answers might float to the top. “Exactly.” They quietly sipped their tea for a few moments and then Leo said, "So Spurlock is Wess' leg-breaker." Hal was blowing on his tea to cool it and spoke through puckered lips. "Or worse." *** By 11:30 PM., Hal and Leo were several miles from Cloverport Kentucky and now they were at the Wal-Mart in Tell City Indiana looking for camping equipment. They didn't really have a plan, but did have a place to start, and after that, they would play it by ear. When Hal thought he had enough camping and fishing gear, they went in search of no trespassing signs. Neither of them knew what the Kentucky law was, so they got enough signs to put one every 50-feet around the entire property. May 4th The following morning, Halbert Hackabie, (aka, Hal the Hack), was a stranger that had Leo's permission to camp and fish on the point where Town Creek emptied into the Ohio River. Leo had spent a couple of hours putting no trespassing signs around his property in a way that would make them visible regardless of the direction one was looking. With that job finished, Leo was on his way to Tobias Morgan's farm. He wanted to see it for himself and maybe get a feel for why Daniel Wess would want it. Leo had wasted more than two hours researching that property; looking for possible mineral rights, water rights, easements, or anything else above or below the ground. Leo had found nothing that might make that property valuable or even desirable. Leo left the Morgan farm with only a feeling of disgust; it was heavily posted with private property and no trespassing signs. He couldn't get closer than the bullet riddled mailbox on the road. Turning around, Leo headed back to town and the pool hall. It was a fine day for a ride in the country, and he’d not yet tried-out the four-wheel-drive feature on his pickup. He was on a very narrow one-lane dirt road, so he deliberately drove with two wheels in the ditch. Leo was happy to find that the pickup didn't seem to care and he felt more secure about his ability to go into rough places. *** When Leo walked into the pool hall, he discovered that he was the focus of the latest gossip. The chief of police was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a scowl. Apparently, he’d been waiting for Leo and had something on his mind. "Who's that damn stranger camping on your place?" Leo didn't like the cop's attitude or tone of voice. He was obviously trying to give everyone the impression that Leo had done something wrong. "I think he said his name is Hal---no, maybe it was Cal---no, I'm pretty sure it was Hal." The cop didn't seem to notice that Leo was being a smartass, but everyone else did. "Well, I just came from there and I ran his ass off." The cop said with a smug look. "Why the hell did you do you that?" Leo was pissed. "I told him that it was okay to camp there." The cop looked down at his feet slowly shaking his head and made no attempt to conceal his grin. "That ain't the way the law works here." He lifted his face and looked directly at Leo wearing a smirk. "Your place is posted now, so he's got to have permission in writing; and he didn't. Just doin' my job, like you said." Leo wanted to tell that wannabe Keystone Cop what he thought of him but held his tongue and walked away. He went back out to his pickup and headed home. *** Turning into his driveway, Leo could see that Hal's dome shaped tent was gone but the beat-up old Chevy pickup was still there. Leo knew that Hal was still around and that he would be back. What he didn't know, was whether the city cop was dirty or just a jerk. When he opened the front door, there was Hal sitting on the sofa reading through the application used to become a Cloverport cop. Leo couldn't resist this perfect opportunity to be a smartass. "Hi honey, I'm home." Hal looked up and grinned. "The door wasn't locked, very well, and I didn't think you'd mind, so I just came on in." There was a lull in the conversation while Leo went into the kitchen to make coffee. While the coffee was brewing, he returned to the living room and took a seat facing the sofa. Hal stopped reading and looked up at Leo. "What's with this application?" "The city cop gave it to me right before Tye was killed. I forgot all about it." "Did you read it?" Leo looked questioningly at Hal. "No. Why?" Hal's eyes sparkled and his mouth widened with a grin. "The requirements are pretty stiff. They might have problems finding qualified people." He read the four minimum requirements aloud. "1- Must be at least 21 years old 2- Must be able to read and write (HS graduate or GED preferred) 3- Must have a valid driver's license 4- No felony convictions" Hal paused for a moment. Then shaking his head said, "This would be really funny if it wasn't so damn dangerous. Give a man a badge and a gun just because he can read and write." There was a moment of silence and then Hal said, "Speaking of a dumbass with a badge and a gun; the city's finest paid me a little visit. You must have really pissed him off." "Yeah, I guess I'm getting pretty good at pissing off the people around here." Leo remembered the city cop saying almost the same thing when Tye was killed. With a grin, Hal said, "I heard somebody say that it’s better to be pissed off than pissed on.” Then in a serious tone he said, “I need to find out what Wess and Spurlock are up to. Any ideas?" Leo had only gotten to know a few people since he’d been in Cloverport but he had formed an opinion based on those few. "I think it might be difficult to get people to talk to you. They are fairly tight lipped around strangers." Sounding frustrated, Hal said, "I don't think there will be enough time for me to make friends. My gut is telling me that something’s going to happen, and soon.” Leo thought about it for a moment, then recommended for Hal to wait until the following morning and hang out at the pool hall. May 5 Taking Leo's advice, Hal was on his way to Bill's Billiard Room hoping to get useful information about Daniel Wess and Russell Spurlock. Before leaving his campsite, Hal deliberately got fresh mud on his shoes and sat on dried mud. He was supposed to be there on a fishing trip and needed to look the part. Hal knew enough about fishing to know that nighttime was the best time for catfish and he needed his days left open. That meant if anybody asked, he would say catfish was what he was trying to catch. Hal stepped into the pool hall and had to wait a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Although it was 10 AM, and the sun was bright, it remained rather dark and gloomy in the pool hall. Looking around, it was easy for Hal to see why; the only windows were in the front of the long narrow building. For some reason, Hal felt comfortable there even before he met Bill. It didn't feel like a pool hall; he thought it felt kinda homey and safe. "Can I help you young fellow?" Hal's eyes followed the sound of the voice to the furthest end of the room and thanks to Leo's description, Hal knew instantly that he’d found Bill. With a genuine friendly smile, Hal said, "Somebody told me that you serve the best cup of coffee in town." Bill chuckled as he shuffled across the floor toward the kitchen area. "What they should've told you is that I serve the only cup of coffee in town." There were only three booths and they were all empty so Hal chose the one with the number 3 on the wall behind it. It was also the booth furthest from the front door, and out of habit, Hal sat facing it. In an attempt to start a conversation, Hal said, "Doesn't look like you're very busy this morning." Bill sat the coffee down in front of Hal still chuckling. "Are you kiddin'? This is the busiest morning I've had in a long time; a payin' customer before noon." He stopped cackling and eyed Hal. "You are a payin' customer ain't you?" Ten minutes later, Bill was sitting in the booth across from Hal drinking coffee and talking. He told Hal the story about how he came to Cloverport in 1947 and opened the pool hall. Bill explained that he had no family, had never been married, and why. He talked about how the state had killed Cloverport simply by bypassing it with the new highway. Bill talked and Hal listened for more than an hour but the subject of Daniel Wess or Spurlock never came up. Hal was trying to think of a way to bring up that particular subject when the lunch crowd arrived, all three of them. The three men seated themselves in booth number 1 leaving an empty booth between them and Hal. With no other background noise in the room, Hal could hear every word that was said in booth 1. He instantly decided to try eavesdropping for a while to see what he could learn that way. A half-hour later, Hal knew that all three man worked at the local sawmill, they all disliked their foreman, two were unhappily married and the other was unhappily single. *** By the end of the day, Hal knew a little about a lot of things but he’d learned nothing new about Wess or Spurlock. The people in Cloverport would not talk about those two men; at least not where he could hear. Fortunately, Hal had an idea for a Plan B. Unfortunately, he would have to return to Quantico to prepare for his Plan B. Same-day 4:45 PM Leo was on the back deck waiting for Hal to return from his first day of gathering information from the people of Cloverport. He’d been there only a few minutes when he was startled by someone stepping around the corner of his house. Leo knew instantly that it was a man and that the guy was coming toward him, but it took a half-second more for him to realize that it wasn't Hal. If Tye was here, nobody could sneak up on me like that. Leo suddenly realized that the seclusion and privacy of his back deck was no more. He wiggled slightly in the lounge chair and felt the reassurance of the 9 mm Sig handgun resting in the small of his back. "Are you Leo Willard?" There was something about this guy that Leo instantly disliked, but it was just a feeling. He was a small man, about 5 ft. 5 inches and 120 pounds with unforgettable yellowed buckteeth. He was dressed in camouflage and it appeared to be military surplus instead of sportswear. "When I looked in the mirror this morning, that's who was looking back," Leo answered. Getting closer and watching Leo closely, the small man took a draw from a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then flicked it away. When he spoke, a cloud of smoke puffed out of his mouth. "Ha ha, very funny." He stopped walking and stood with his thumbs hooked in his back pockets. "My name is Jinks and I have a message for Leo Willard." Hearing the man’s name, Leo’s mind flashed back to something Spurlock had said the day Tye was killed. "I think this place might be jinxed." Leo felt the heat of adrenaline rushing through his veins. "I'm Willard." "Spurlock says this is his last offer. Your purchase price plus ten grand." Leo slowly swung his legs over the side of the lounge chair and stood facing Jinks. "I'm glad this is his last offer. I'm tired of saying no and I hate to repeat myself." Jinks displayed a humorless smile. "It's not smart to say no to Spurlock." Leo copied Jinks' stance and hooked his thumbs in his back pockets so that his hands were close to the pistol. You are younger and smaller, and probably faster. But do you have the balls? Leo lowered the volume of his voice to just above a whisper. "What's not smart is you still standing there; this is private property and this conversation is over. Walk away." Jinks slowly moved his hands until they were in front of him with palms up and then began backing away. "Until we meet again." No response; Leo was done talking. When Jinks rounded the corner and was out of sight, Leo quickly drew his weapon and changed positions on the deck without taking his eyes off the corner. Now he was several feet away from the lounge chair and in a crouched two-handed firing position. Leo was waiting for Jinks to come running around the corner shooting. I wish Tye was here. It had only been two days since Tye was murdered and Leo was surprised to learn how much he’d depended on her. Leo held this position for two full minutes before his muscles began burning which forced him to move. He carefully went to the corner of the house, and in the blink of an eye, two things happened. (1) He peeked around the corner to find that Jinks was not there as expected, (2) he thought it was impossible for him to be that wrong about Jinks. The next blink however, confirmed that he’d been right because the corner of the house exploded where his head had been. The blast sent vinyl siding and wood fragments flying passed him and scattered it around the yard. Leo instantly dropped to a squatting position causing pain to shoot down his leg. There was a three-second delay after the first shot before a second blast caused similar damage to the corner at knee-high level. Leo knew that if he’d not been slowed by the pain, his head would have been there for sure. Leo understood that this shooter, this Jinks fellow, obviously knew what he was doing and that created another question. How did he learn that skill? 5:20 PM The city cop was examining the damage to the corner of Leo's house and dug out a piece of lead with a pocketknife. Holding it in the palm of his hand the cop said, "Looks like .00 buckshot. What is it with you and people with shotguns?" "I'm telling you, I know who did this and who is behind it." The cop continued looking at the damaged corner while he spoke. "No, you're telling me what you think, but there ain't no proof. You didn't see nothin'." He took a step back, looked at the buckshot in his hand, and then turned his hand over letting the buckshot fall to the ground. "Hey," Leo said, "Don't you want to keep that?" The city cop was wearing a grin that was dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. "I might be just a small town cop, a nobody, but I know you can't get ballistics off a damn shotgun pellet. Besides, just about everybody around here has got a box of .00 buckshot laying around. And as for somebody named Jinks, I've never heard that name before, but I'll look around, see what I can find. As for Mr. Spurlock and Mr. Wess; unless you can show me some proof, I think I'll just leave 'em be." Leo was biting his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking. You couldn’t even be a Keystone Cop. You're stupid instead of funny. Leo watched the city cop fumble around for another two minutes waiting to see if he would say anything more, and when Leo didn't, the cop got in his car and left. Leo sat on the deck watching the river for another minute and then went into the kitchen. Returning with a small plastic bag, he found the cigarette that Jinks had discarded, and using a stick, raked it into the bag. Every little bit helps. Leo wasn't surprised to see that it was the Marlboro brand; the same as the shooter that killed Tye had used. Two quick shots and no empty shell casings; he must use a double barrel. Leo quickly convinced himself that Jinks was the one that had killed Tye. Leo was again sitting on the deck gazing out at the river and thinking about how the city cop had acted about him being shot at. It was true that he had no proof Jinks had been the shooter or that Spurlock and Daniel Wess had been behind it. It was also true that the city cop did not intend to check into it. Like it or not, Leo was on his own. He gazed at the river until he was almost mesmerized. Every drop of that water is kinda like a minute in my life. When it goes passed, it's gone forever and will never come again. Twenty minutes after the city cop left, Hal stepped around the corner of the house and immediately saw that Leo was upset. Within minutes, Hal knew the whole story and feared for his friend's life. What made the situation even worse was that he had to leave first thing the next morning.  May 6, 4:17 AM Leo turned his head and looked at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. It was 4:17 AM. Why can't I sleep like a normal person? He stared up at the ceiling where moonlight filtered through the trees before coming in the window creating shadows. Allowing his mind to play with them, Leo imagined that one looked like an elephant and another resembled an early 1950’s car. Childish crap. Frustrated, Leo rested his arm across his eyes and attempted to close his mind to all thoughts hoping for sleep. It didn't work. Leo thought about his job with the Border Patrol and how he’d been forced to work with the FBI on a kidnapping case. Three Hispanic men had forcibly taken a 6-year-old little girl away from her mother in broad daylight and had done it in front of several witnesses. The attack had occurred in El Paso Texas. Everyone was surprised and caught off guard when the attackers had not run for the nearby Mexico border. Instead, they’d headed west through New Mexico and then continued into Arizona where Leo had been stationed. The kidnappers brought more than just the little girl across the state lines; they also brought the FBI who were automatically involved, and automatically in charge. The FBI agent that Leo had been forced to work with was Hal Hackney, but he was unlike any FBI agent Leo had ever met. Agent Hackney didn't care that the little girl's daddy was a kingpin in the illegal drug trade. He didn't care that the reason behind the kidnapping was drug-related. He didn't care who got the credit for saving the child, or who got stepped on in the process. Hal Hackney only cared about two things: the little girl, and her safe return. At some point during that successful mission, they had unexpectedly become friends. A few years later, Hal had transferred to Quantico to be an instructor in the FBI's computer labs. That's when Leo had learned that Hal's nickname was, Hal the Hack, because he was some kind of computer guru. There was no security code that he couldn't crack, no system that he couldn't enter, and no data that he couldn't gain access to. Any information, in any computer, anywhere in the world, Hal the Hack could get it. Leo's thoughts shifted to his wife, Cora, their lives together, promises they’d each made and then his life without her. His thoughts shifted again, this time to Tye and her cold-blooded murder. This was followed by Jinks and the attempt on his life. Adrenaline flooded into his system and Leo leaped up; there would be no more sleep this night. He quickly dressed in tee shirt and jeans; he was pumped-up with adrenaline and needed to do something. Hal had started for the Louisville airport shortly after midnight, but before he left, Hal had told him about a local fishermen named Denver Specks. Hal had asked Leo to follow up and that's what he intended to do. Going into the kitchen, Leo turned on the small light over the stove which lit-up the room with a dull glow. The first thing he saw was Tye's food dish causing another release of adrenaline. He mindlessly made tea, and then leaving the tea untouched, he made extra strong coffee. Leo poured the black substance into a cup and then sat glaring at it as if it had done something terrible. He thought about the evidence that he’d carefully collected and finally admitted to himself that it truly was worthless, causing his mood to darken even more. Then Leo remembered something Hal had told him years ago during the kidnapping investigation. 'When you're stuck and don't know what to do next, write down everything you know, and everything you don't know, and then add what you think you might know. Fold the paper carefully, and then wipe your ass with it, because that's all it's worth. Then get off your duff and do the legwork.' Leo smiled with the memory and knew that Hal was right. Down deep, Leo had known all along that everything he had so far was worthless. He thought about Spurlock acquiring all that land for Daniel Wess and then going to great lengths to keep people off. Why? Drugs? If I was gonna do it, I’d want to buy about a million acres and then put my meth lab in the middle of it. Easier to defend that way. That would also explain why they want my property. It’s a natural shipping point and nobody pays much attention to the river system. This made sense, and although it fell into the category of ‘Things I think I know’; it was all he had. Time for the legwork. Leo put the still full cup in the sink, checked to make sure his shirt covered the handgun that was tucked into the waistband in the front of his pants, and then started to open the back door. Tye's leash was hanging beside the door and Leo's eyes were drawn to it causing him to pause for an instant. Anger flashed through him like a bolt of lightning releasing a fresh supply of adrenaline into his already overworked nervous system. Leo roughly yanked the door open and bolted through the open doorway out onto the deck and ran head on into Spurlock. Spurlock and Leo were equally surprised and they both stumbled backward grappling for their weapons. The adrenaline that was already surging through Leo's veins and the front location of his weapon, as well as some luck, gave him enough of an edge to make him quicker on the draw. Leo's 9mm Sig-Sauer was leveled on Spurlock's chest before Spurlock's .45 automatic had completed its swinging arc from behind into a firing position. "Drop it or die," Leo commanded. Spurlock froze in place and looked at Leo in disbelief. Leo Willard had automatically assumed the two handed firing position that only comes with intense training and was wearing an expression that left no doubt he’d pull the trigger. Seeing that, Spurlock instantly made his decision. Remaining in a crouched position, Spurlock raised his hands in surrender. "OK, OK, just take it easy. I don't much want to drop this old Colt on the floor so I'm gonna lay it down on that lounge chair." Spurlock glanced at the chair but didn’t move. "Do it carefully," Leo warned. Keeping his 9mm trained on Spurlock's chest, Leo watched him remove the .45 from his right hand with the thumb and forefinger of his left-hand. Pinching the pistol by its barrel, Spurlock slowly placed the weapon on the webbing of the lounge chair and then slowly stood with both hands over his head. "Okay, step away from the gun,” Leo ordered. Spurlock took two sideways steps. Leo knew that he couldn’t relax yet. Anything was still possible. “Now, face down on the ground; spread-eagle." After Spurlock complied with Leo’s order, he started to speak. "Hey man…" Leo instantly shut him down. "Shut up!" Then he leaned over Spurlock's head and hissed through clenched teeth. "Not a word, not one fucking word." Leo was shocked when he found himself strangely disappointed. Oh my god. In all my years on the force, I never wanted an excuse to fire my weapon at somebody before. Leo gave Spurlock a quick pat down to be sure he didn't have another weapon, and found only a cell phone. When he was satisfied, Leo allowed Spurlock to sit and speak. After rolling over and sitting up the first thing out of Spurlock's mouth was, "Who the hell are you; some kind of a cop or something?" Leo continued to keep his pistol trained on Spurlock. "I don't think you're in a position to ask questions, but I will answer just this one. I'm just a tired old man that wants to be left alone so I can enjoy my retirement." Leo paused for a moment. "Now it's my turn. Why the hell are you trespassing on my private property at 5:30 in the morning?" Leo was still wound-up, high and tight with adrenaline, but not so high he could miss seeing the pure evil lurking behind Spurlock's colorless eyes. Spurlock locked eyes with Leo as he spoke. "I was hoping I could convince you to change your mind about selling this place." "Is that the reason you brought that .45; to help convince me?" Leo watched Spurlock's neck and ears develop the pink tint of anger. “Or maybe you thought you could finish the job that your buddy Jinks started.” Spurlock spat his words at Leo. "Don't be fucking ridiculous. I don't do business that way. Don't have to. The guy I work for has enough money to buy anything he wants." Leo thought, you don’t do business what way?, but he would let it go because that was a good opening for his next question. "So, why does he want my place?" The pink tint in Spurlock's face was becoming much darker and spreading. "I don't ask him questions, and I won't answer any more of yours." Leo was curious about how bad Wess wanted his property. "Okay, but just answer one more. What's your best offer?" Spurlock answered without hesitation. "Top market value plus fifty percent." Leo did some quick math in his head and realized that would be more than double what he’d paid a few months earlier. Then a mental picture of Tye’s grave flashed through his head and the money lost its value. "Thanks, but no thanks." Keeping his Sig-Sauer trained on Spurlock, Leo stepped over and picked up the .45 automatic pistol. Pushing the magazine release button, Leo watched it slide out and fall to the floor. "On the ground, face down." Leo issued the command and watched Spurlock comply before ejecting the last bullet from the pistol’s chamber. Looking the weapon over, Leo saw that it was indeed a Colt model 1911 and was impressed. Nice piece, I wouldn't want to drop it either. Leo put Spurlock's pistol back on the lounge chair and picked up the magazine. Using his thumb, he slowly ejected all seven bullets, one at a time, letting them fall to the floor. Then Leo issued his next command. "Sit up!" Leo was beginning to enjoy watching Spurlock follow his orders and gave him another one as he handed Spurlock the empty magazine. "Put that in your right front pants pocket and then pick up all eight bullets and put them in the left pocket." Spurlock spoke through clenched teeth and his words were dripping with venom, "Aren't you pushing your luck a bit?" Leo answered, putting all the malice in his voice that he was feeling. "Not, yet." When Spurlock finished pocketing the eight bullets, Leo handed him his pistol and a warning. "If I catch you trespassing again, we will not sit down and have another chat." Spurlock's eyes narrowed and he spoke quietly but with intensity. "You got that right, old man." *** Leo stood in the predawn shadows watching Spurlock's Jeep leaving his driveway and knew that it was not over between them. There was no doubt in his mind that they would meet again and he figured that next time it would be on Spurlock's terms. Leo returned to the deck and his lounge chair for a couple of reasons: he needed to regain control of his temper, but mostly he wanted to give Spurlock plenty of time to be far away before he left. Quantico, Virginia 6:00 AM When Hal walked into the FBI headquarters, he was greeted with genuine smiles and heartfelt salutations. Unfortunately, his morning had been so stressful that he had to force himself to be nice and remember that these people had nothing to do with his problems. He glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head. Unbelievable. Driving the old pickup, he’d left Leo’s house shortly after midnight on his way to the Louisville Airport where the FBI’s jet was waiting. Halfway there, a large section of the exhaust system had fallen off and landed on the road in front of a rear tire making it i mpossible to miss. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a big deal but there was nothing normal about that junkie old truck, so of course that tire blew-out. Hal had changed many flat tires in his lifetime and expected that this would set his timing back about a half-hour, but he was wrong. There was a spare tire, a jack, and a lug wrench but nothing was as it seemed. The jack was for a different vehicle and it took awhile for him to figure out how to make it work on the older model pickup. Then he discovered that the lug nuts were rusted on and eventually he found out the spare tire had only half of the air it needed making it necessary for him to drive very slow. In all, the old pickup had added more than 2 hours to his trip and helped to send his already high stress level through the roof. Entering his office, the first thing Hal noticed was a sheet of paper covering the front of his computer monitor. Seeing this was too much for his overtaxed nervous system to handle gracefully; everyone knew better than to use tape on his monitor screen. Damnit! Hal angrily stomped across his office to the desk and snatched the paper off the computer monitor. The first thing he saw was that the paper had been held in place with a green putty substance and not tape. His anger diminished slightly. The second thing he saw was that the note had come from FBI Special Agent Alex Thompson and his anger receded even further. Special Agent Alex Thompson was the new FBI Assistant Director and that made him Hal’s boss, but they had become best friends many years before Thompson’s promotion. Looking back on it now, Hal was convinced that they’d both made the right career choices. Hal and Thompson had worked together on many cases back when they had been young agents and then gone their separate ways, each pursuing the career they wanted. Special Agent Alex Thompson had wanted a leadership role while Special Agent Hal Hackney had wanted to run the computer lab at Quantico. They’d both succeeded. Hal read the message. Hal, Simmer down, I didn’t use tape. We need to talk ASAP. Be in my office at 9:00 AM today. Alex Hal stood beside the desk looking at the note from Thompson and thinking hard. The first line had caused a small grin to form on his face but the second line caused the grin to fade away. There was undoubtedly a problem but he had no idea what it could be. Hal glanced at his watch. Seeing that he had almost three hours, he instantly made the decision to precede with his plan B. Cloverport 7:30 AM Leo had been sitting on his deck for almost two hours watching the early morning fog rise from the Ohio River. There was something soothing about the way small waves gently slapped at the riverbank before flowing away seemingly without a care. And after running into Spurlock before daylight, Leo needed soothing. When he felt comfortable with himself and the amount of time that Spurlock had been gone, Leo locked his house. It was time to go looking for Denver Specks, the local fishermen that Hal had told him about. Specks claimed that armed men had forced him to leave the Goshen Bridge area where he’d been fishing and Leo wanted to hear more about it. His first stop was the pool hall where he could hear the latest gossip and Bill could give him directions to Denver Specks home. *** The quality of today's gossip had not been very good but Bill's directions were excellent. Fifty-yards passed the city limit sign was a multi-colored eight-foot high fence made of 4X8 sheets of plywood. Stretching for nearly 1/4-mile, the plywood fence was bowed both in and out and appeared as if it was crooked by design. Leo parked in a muddy spot near a gap in the fence and got out. Standing beside the pickup Leo noticed the slightest hint of a foul odor but couldn’t identify it. Maybe something dead, maybe garbage, maybe something else. Leo walked through the gap and then followed a dirt path through mountains of rusty metal. There were a few old bicycle frames and a few old car wheels, but most of what he saw, Leo couldn't identify. Continuing along the path, Leo saw there were several half-buried wooden boards that a person could walk on when the path was muddy. When he rounded a sharp bend, Leo saw that behind a huge pile of metal bedsprings, he’d found Specks' house. Maybe, but I doubt that anybody could actually live in that shack. Looking around, he couldn't see any other potential dwelling so he turned his attention back to the shack. The front of the little house was almost completely hidden by huge piles of metal junk, so Leo followed a well-used path that led him around to a back door. There were piles of junk on both sides of the door higher than the door itself, but the door was clear enough to open. Leo knocked and was surprised when the door opened and a much stronger version of the foul odor he’d noticed before rushed out and assaulted him. Through watery eyes, he saw that an older woman with gray hair that had not been cared for in a very long time was standing in the open doorway. She was wearing what appeared to be a potato sack with holes cut for her arms and head. She glared at Leo, spat tobacco juice on the floor between her unsightly bare feet and then spoke. "If'n yer lookin' fer Denver, he's gone to take a dump. Jest wait right thar an' he be back d'rectly." The door abruptly shut in his face and a few seconds later, Leo realized that his mouth was hanging open. Before he could turn around, he heard someone behind him shout. "Hello Mr. Willard! Are you lookin' for me?" A frail looking old man wearing dirty overalls, a grungy faded blue dress shirt, and a 1920's style gray felt hat was coming toward Leo with a prominent limp. "If you are Denver Specks, the answer is yes." When the old man was standing in front of him, Leo felt like a giant. Although Leo was only 5' 10", he could look down and see the entire top of Denver Specks’ filthy sweat-stained hat. Leo said, "I want to ask you about fishing at the Goshen Bridge." "Oh hell no! Cain't fish there no more. Least-ways, not without maybe gettin' shot." The old man took on a faraway look. "Damn shame too; some mighty good cat-fishin' there where the old bridge fell in." There was fear in the old man's voice, but Leo thought he detected some anger too. "I guess they've got a right to not let people trespass on their land." Denver Specks spat his words. "Yeah, I reckon so. Spurlock and his bunch of yahoos already own ever'thin' else 'round here; might jest as well give 'em the middle of the damn creek too." Leo paused for a moment trying to grasp what Specks had said. "Are you saying that you were not on his land?" Specks was obviously angry now. "No siree Bob. I never set foot on his damn land; never got out of my old boat, nary a time. Put the boat in down at Wainwright's place, same as always. Hell, I keep it there." Leo asked Specks to start at the beginning and tell him what had happened. Leo patiently listened to Specks' story including all the side trips about his quest for giant catfish. Near the end of the story, the back door of the house banged open and the same gray haired woman as before stood glaring at them. "Denver, the damn sink won't drain again." She shot Leo a frosty look before closing the door harder than was necessary. Leo noticed that when the door shut a puff of air thick with the pungent odor rushed out and surrounded him for a moment before dissipating. Specks looked up at Leo. "I reckon you parked in that mud-hole out front." Fighting his gag reflex, Leo nodded his head. "I … "That's why the damn kitchen sink won't drain." Specks saw the confusion on Leo's face and explained. "Them dumbass City Council fellers thought they could force me to sell my place to the city by cuttin' off the water and unhookin' the sewer. I reckon they forgot I got a good water well and out-house; and I'm not in the city limits so they can't do nothin' about it." His eyes shifted away from Leo and his face took on a faraway look. "The only runnin' water in the whole damn house is at the kitchen sink. My old lady shore does miss her bathtub." Leo dredged up a mental image of the woman that had opened the door earlier. Yeah, missed it a lot, and for a long time. "How long has your water been off?" "Goin' on two years now." Not waiting for Leo's response, "What can I do you for?" Leo noticed the old man's awkward speech pattern but made no comment. "I would like to hire you to take me to the Goshen Bridge in your boat." Specks asked, "Do you got a mirror in your pocket?" Clearly confused, Leo said, "Excuse me?" Specks was agitated, almost angry. "I jest want to see if some asshole wrote STUPID on my forehead while I was sleepin'. Did you hear anything I jest said?" Leo had dealt with enough people to know that he was done there. He thanked Denver Specks for his time and headed for home.   JFV Headquarters June 9 Daniel Wess had been staying at the JFV headquarters for almost a month. As he’d expected, Sharon Kay resigned from her position as CEO at Wess Enterprise and then moved out of their condo. As he’d expected, he couldn't bear to stay in the condo alone and decided to rough-it by staying in the older ranch style house. Spurlock had a woman staying with him to do the cooking and cleaning and share his bed, but that was okay because Wess rarely left the office. When Wess first arrived, Spurlock had offered to share the woman but Wess had refused and stayed in his bedroom alone. Wess had no desire for that woman or any woman. He was too busy sulking and feeling sorry for himself because he simply could not understand why Sharon Kay had left him. Every time Wess closed his eyes, he could hear Sharon Kay slamming her bedroom door and felt the stabbing pain in his chest each time. That had only lasted for a couple of days and then Wess needed to find someone to blame. That was easy; if it had not been for 9-11 he wouldn't have this problem, or any problem. Why haven't the people turned against our government before now? Everybody knows they are destroying America but nobody will do anything about it. Our illiterate president even told the terrorists to 'Bring it on', and they did, but then everybody just ignored it. What's wrong with the people in this country? They are so stupid they deserve whatever this government does to them. They are not even real people anymore; they are more like sheeple. Maybe I can give them a wake-up call, or put them to sleep, permanently. On the third day, Wess finally left his bedroom and went into his office. That's where he stayed, demanding that he not be disturbed for any reason. Wess would come out of the office just long enough to use the bathroom, which was never more than 10 minutes. Spurlock's woman would deliver his meals by leaving food in the hallway beside the door and was instructed to knock on the door and then walk away. This behavior continued for several days, until finally, Wess emerged a new man, no longer sad and sulking. Instead, he was strangely upbeat and happy, almost manic. Wess instructed Spurlock to handpick two dozen of his best men for a special assignment. *** The living room of the ranch style house had been converted into a mini conference room. There had been several neat rows of metal folding chairs carefully placed facing the six-foot collapsible table. A lot of thought and effort had gone into the arrangement of the room but that was before anyone had arrived. Within minutes of the men's arrival it was obvious that the careful planning had been a huge waste of time. At 9:00 AM, Daniel Wess stood behind the table looking out at 26 faces. These were the mercenaries that Spurlock had handpicked for this delicate operation. These men were the best of the best; they would follow orders to the letter and do it without hesitation or question. Wess knew that he could trust these men because Spurlock trusted them and he trusted Spurlock. At least Wess trusted Spurlock to do what he expected Spurlock to do. Jinks on the other hand, Wess wasn't so sure; there was something unsettling about that little man. The men had moved the chairs in order to huddle together in small groups and Wess could hear the hum of conversation and an occasional chuckle. Wess picked up a stack of papers from the table and began handing them out. When that chore was finished, he was ready for the meeting to begin. Standing behind the table, Wess addressed his troops. "What you have there is a print-out of the Yucca Mountain nuclear disposal site in Nevada." Wess paused, mostly for effect, before continuing. "Every building, every tree, every rock, every stationary object within the boundaries of that facility is shown on this updated mapping blueprint. The satellite photo was taken four days ago, so there shouldn't be any surprises between now and the 23rd. That's when we strike; the stuff we need will be there then." Wess paused for a moment to see if anyone had questions and then continued. "The trucking schedules, shift changes, number of employees present at any given time, are listed on the back. You should be able to get in, get the stuff we need, and get out quickly." Wess paused briefly before continuing. "Okay, here's the way it works. One of the regular drivers works for me now. He goes in empty and hauls out the uncontaminated scrap, but not this time. This time, two of you will be in the empty trailer and when he unhooks from it, the two of you will get out and help him hook-up to trailer number 8864." One of the men asked, "Don't they look in the trailer before it goes in?" Wess gave him a lopsided grin. "You'd think so, but due to budget cuts they just go by weight. They drive across the scales and if the trailer is within 500 pounds of its posted weight, they don't look. That's why only two can be in the trailer, but the rest of you will be close-by in case of problems." From the back of the room someone asked, "What's in 8864?" Wess said, "Four sealed biohazard containers each containing five, four-pound cakes of RX11-3." A low murmur circulated through the room and metallic squeaks from the chairs could be heard as the men shifted their weight. It was obvious that they were familiar with RX11-3, but no one spoke up. "I have to return to the city on business and in my absence Mr. Spurlock is in charge and speaks for me. Is that clear?" There was not much of a response: a few nods but mostly nothing but blank stares. "If anyone has a problem with this assignment, say so now." There was a moment of silence. "Mr. Spurlock assures me that the containment facility will be in place when you get there with the material. As soon as the stuff is secured there, Mr. Spurlock will notify me and I will notify the FBI with my demands. If you have no further questions for me, I’ll turn this meeting over to Mr. Spurlock and be on my way." Daniel Wess picked up a few loose sheets of paper and stuck them into a folder. Taking the folder with him, Wess left the house, got into his new Silverado 4X4 and drove away. A slight grin played at the corners of his mouth. This was too easy. If just half of the stuff I learned about psychology is true, Spurlock can't resist. He won’t even try. The slight grin blossomed into a large toothy smile. Part 2 of my plan is in motion. Spurlock stood in the doorway and watched Wess leave, then returned to the table talking as he went. "There's not much more to say. Study the blueprint and memorize it. That's all for now, you're dismissed." Spurlock looked down at the table and saw a sheet of paper that Wess had missed or had fallen out of his folder. Picking it up, Spurlock quickly scanned it and was amazed at what he saw. Speaking aloud, but to himself, "Oh hell no, this changes everything.” I knew I'd find a way. Addressing the men that were preparing to leave Spurlock issued an order. "Wait a minute, all of you; the plans have just changed." Cloverport Same day 10:00 AM It was not even close to lunchtime but Leo Willard went into the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich anyway. He was spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread and thinking about why Daniel Wess had bought all that land. There were many possibilities, but it was all guesswork and none of it made total sense. The land was basically worthless and there was too much of it to justify his guesswork. Leo remembered how difficult it had been for him to find his little place, and then it hit him: a realtor. Wess would have used a realtor and the realtor might have answers. Leo went into the spare bedroom to find the folder containing the information concerning the purchase of his property. He couldn't remember the realtor's name, but he remembered his surprise when he’d learned there was only one realtor. The name of the company gave the impression of it being larger. It took several minutes of searching to find the folder, but when Leo opened it, the first thing he saw was a business card held in place with a paperclip. Leo immediately got on the phone and called David Jessup's office and a receptionist answered on the second ring. "Breckenridge County Realtors. This is Patsy; how can I help you?" Upon hearing her voice, Leo pictured Patsy as a lovely young lady of high school age. Probably Jessup's daughter. After a short conversation with Patsy, Leo learned that David Jessup was showing a piece of property near Cloverport but Patsy was positive that it was too late to catch him there. Even more disappointing, Patsy informed Leo that the office would be closed at 12:00 PM for the rest of the day. Leo told her that he needed to see David Jessup and it couldn't wait. *** When Leo stepped into David Jessup's office and saw the realtor, he almost laughed aloud. Jessup stood and stepped out from behind his desk to greet Leo. He was wearing an off-white lightweight summer suit, a white shirt, a red bolo tie, and white leather slip-on shoes. Leo thought Jessup looked like a bowling pin with glasses. Fortunately, he took Leo's giant smile as a happy to see you greeting. Jessup shook Leo's hand saying, "It's a good thing you called Mr. Willard, 'cause I wasn't planning to come back to the office this afternoon. Let's sit down and get more comfortable." David Jessup guided Leo to a padded chair in front of his desk and then seated himself in his extra large, extra cushioned, high backed office chair across from him. "I haven't seen you since the closing on your property. What can I do for you?" Leo leaned forward. "I really appreciate you coming in on your afternoon off. I won't take much of your time." Jessup leaned back enlarging his personal space. "Don't worry about it. All I was going to do was rotate the tires on my wife's minivan, and I wanted an excuse to get out of it. So actually, you did me a favor." Ready for business, he leaned forward folding his hands on the desk. "Now, what can I do for you?" Leo picked up on the body language and thought he could use it to his advantage. Leaning in even more, he locked eyes with David Jessup. "I want information about Daniel Wess and Russell Spurlock." David Jessup's smile melted away and his eyes glazed over. He shuffled back in his chair and his hands nervously played with the ends of the bolo tie for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry Mr. Willard, but I can't give out any personal information about my clients." Leo continued to hold Jessup's eyes. "I understand that, and I would never ask you to do anything unethical. I guess I'm just asking for your opinion." Jessup was obviously confused. "My opinion? About what?" "All that land. What do you think Wess is going to do with all that land?" Jessup came forward no longer concerned about personal space, planted his elbows on the desk, and then spoke with absolute certainty. "I don't know, and I don't want to know." Leo knew that was the end of the interview; David Jessup was done talking. He thanked Jessup for his time and left the realtor’s office unsure what to do next. When Leo got to his pickup, he noticed a 1972 Dodge Challenger street-rod parked across the street. Someone had spent a lot of time and money restoring the car; complete with Laker side pipes and Keystone wheels. Leo had been a Mopar fan in the 1960s and '70s so it was impossible for him not to admire this classic muscle car. On the drive home, Leo thought about his options, which were few, and then his resources, which were even fewer. He still had friends at the Border Patrol that had access to several databases with a multitude of information. I really should stay in contact with my old buddies anyway. As Leo was about to turn into his driveway, he saw the same 1972 Dodge Challenger sitting at the local gas station. He slowed down to admire the car and wondered how it had gotten there ahead of him. Taking the back roads would be fewer miles, but they are also very crooked. *** Leo opened his laptop, logged on, and quickly sent an e-mail to the Border Patrol office in Phoenix Arizona requesting all available information on Daniel Wess. With that chore done, he poured a glass of ice tea and went out on the deck to look at the river and think. Leo sat on the lounge chair, placed the glass of tea on the deck beside him, and then took the small notebook from his pocket to review the questions that dominated his thoughts. Leo read and reread the list. He realized that he was no closer to knowing any of the answers now than he had been a few days earlier. The only thing he had accomplished was now he could add more questions. What does David Jessup know? Why… Leo stopped writing as the unmistakable sound of a hotrod turning into the driveway got his attention. The deep-throated, vibrating sound of a finely tuned high-performance engine was music to his ears and brought back fond memories of his teenage years. Leo got up and went to the corner of his house where he could see the driveway. Peaking out, he could see the same 1972 Dodge Challenger that he’d admired earlier. The engine shut off, the door opened, and a rather large young man got out. Walking toward him, Leo estimated the young man's size at 6' 7" and 220 pounds of mostly muscle. When he got closer Leo asked, "Can I help you?" With attitude, the young man said, "That would be nice. Nobody else in this jerk-water town seems to be able to." Leo held his tongue. The young man obviously had a chip on his shoulder about something, so he waited. Leo knew that the younger generation couldn't stand silence and it didn't take long for the young man to continue. "I'm looking for Hal Hackney. He is supposed to be here on vacation; fishing, or something stupid like that." Leo was surprised that the young man used Hal's real name because everybody around there thought Hal's last name was Hackabie. Leo wasn't sure how to respond. "There is nobody here by that name. Can you describe him for me?" The young man leaned back against the car, crossed his legs at the ankles, and folded his arms across his chest. With a cocky smile he said, "Hell, I don't know what he looks like. You might be him for all I know." Leo returned the smile. "I can assure you that I am not who you're looking for. Give me your name and if I happen to run into a Hal Hackney someplace, I'll tell him you're looking for him." "No thanks." With no further explanation, the young man got back into the Challenger and drove away. Leo stood and watched the classic muscle car leave his driveway. There was something about the kid that Leo liked, something besides just his car. Even though the kid had tried to act mysterious and tuff, Leo did not perceive him as a threat. So far, the day hadn't gone very well. He hadn't answered any of the questions he already had, and now he needed to add one more. In his notebook, Leo wrote: The Challenger Kid? LP – Massachusetts – STEV-O 1 *** Opening his laptop, Leo logged on, and almost immediately heard the familiar, "You've got mail". He ignored the mail call and went directly to the DMV site to learn as much as he could about the Challenger Kid. That was one of the perks that came with being an ex-cop. He still had access to some things on his own, and for almost anything else, he knew somebody that did. Leo quickly typed the license plate information and then clicked on search. In less than 10 seconds, Leo knew that the Challenger Kid was really, 19-year-old Stephen O'Malley from Boston Massachusetts. The only blot on his driving record was a speeding ticket for going 57-mph in a 45-mph zone two years ago when he was 17. That’s a better driving record than I had at his age. Leo recorded the information in his notebook and then checked his e-mail. He was surprised to see that he already had a response from the Border Patrol office in Phoenix. Leo was even more surprised when he read the response. Leo, Your request for information concerning Daniel Wess cannot be attained at this time. The FBI has put a block on his page that will remain indefinitely. If there is anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask. Hey Leo, this is Randy Ferguson. How is the fishing? Thinking about Randy caused Leo to smile. As a rookie, he’d been partnered with Leo, but Randy was a generation younger. To everyone's surprise, Randy had taught Leo as much as he’d taught Randy. Leo’s mind going to the Federal Bureau of Idiots instantly wiped the smile off. Why would they block Daniel Wess' information? This is something bigger than drugs, a lot bigger. Besides, if it was all about drugs, the DEA would be sniffing around somebody's butt. Leo went back out to his lounge chair on the deck to watch the river and think. June 12, 11:15 AM Leo was walking home from the pool hall where he’d spent the morning visiting with Bill. Hal had been gone for over a month and Leo had learned nothing helpful about Daniel Wess during his absence. Leo would not allow himself to think negatively or to feel like he’d failed. He didn't know what was going on but he was sure that whatever it was, it wasn't over because too much had already happened with no explanation, no reasoning, and no conclusion. Leo could feel it in his bones; there was more to come. When Leo got home, he went in the front door and straight through to the kitchen where he made a sandwich and poured a glass of ice tea. Balancing the sandwich on top of the glass, he opened the back door, stepped out onto the deck, and stopped. Leo was momentarily stunned, then his eyes focused and his brain engaged. Directly in front of him was a large white building where the river should have been. Leo saw that the building was actually floating in the river on huge Styrofoam blocks. There were three, 20' X 20' X 16' sections that were joined end-to-end creating a 20' X 60' X 16' building. There was a 14' X 16' garage-type door on the closest end that was open offering a view of the interior. Leo could see a walkway 6-foot wide on one side leaving a waterway 14-foot wide that would allow a boat to drive in. The whole thing was held in place with 12 steel cables anchored to the bank. There were six rigid I-beams between the bank and the building at water level keeping the building 12-feet away from the bank and out into the river. Each I-beam was hinged on one end to allow for rising or falling water levels. Leo was staring at something that hadn't been there four hours earlier and it was obstructing his view of the river. Suddenly, two things happened simultaneously. Leo realized that the building was anchored to his land, and in his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Spurlock's Jeep. Turning his head, Leo saw that he was right. Spurlock’s distinctive all-black Jeep Wrangler was bouncing across his property toward the floating building. Leo's temper blew. He bounded down the steps and in a running limp took off across his yard toward the Jeep. He saw it stop near the edge of the riverbank and both doors swung open with Spurlock getting out on the driver’s side and the city cop on the other. Leo yelled for them to wait, and they did. "What the hell is going on here?" Leo's face was red. It was partly due to exertion, but mostly due to anger. "This is private property and you are trespassing on it." Spurlock managed a pretty good fake look of surprise. "Mr. Willard, there was a right-of-way agreement in the lease. Didn't you read it?" It took Leo a moment to digest Spurlock's words before he could reply. "What lease?" The city cop stepped in front of Leo. "I don't know what you're tryin' to pull, but don't. The County Attorney's office reviewed the lease agreement the day before yesterday and then the City Council voted on it last night. It's a done deal." Leo's temper flared higher. "What lease? I didn't sign any damn lease." The cop took a step closer to Leo, and then leaned in so that their faces were only inches apart. "If you've changed your mind about the lease, get a lawyer. Meanwhile, if you take any action against Mr. Spurlock, or this facility, I will gladly do my job." Leo couldn't believe this was happening until he looked passed the cop and saw the sneer on Spurlock's face. Then he understood; Spurlock had found a way to get what he wanted. Same-day 10:35 PM Leo was sitting at his kitchen table waiting for Hal to arrive. Hal had called several hours earlier saying that he expected to get there by about 9 PM; he was late. Leo had occupied his time and his mind thinking about the new building floating in his backyard. He had a lot of anger to deal with. At first, it had been a raging anger, then fuming, and now, finally, a simmering anger, the kind of anger that allows one to think. Leo replayed the whole thing over in his mind again. Wess and Spurlock were selling the city a fantasy, and he knew it, but couldn't prove it. The city officials believed that Daniel Wess was going to open a boat repair business. Leo had to admit that it did look that way, but he knew that it could only last a few weeks and then he would prove in court that it was not his signature on the lease. Then what? The building would be gone, so its purpose would have to be fulfilled before then. Leo heard the obnoxious sound of the beat-up old pickup that Hal was driving and went to the door to meet him. He stood in the front yard and watched the headlights sweep through the trees and then fall into the driveway. When the pickup got straightened up its headlights bounced as it came toward the house. The old pickup suddenly stopped. The smoke trail that it had been leaving behind quickly caught up and engulfed the whole vehicle. In a few seconds, the cloud of smoke had gone passed the pickup and was swirling around the headlights. Leo knew that Hal had seen the huge white building behind his house. *** Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea while Leo told Hal about everything that had happened including his interviews with David Jessup and Denver Specks. Everything that is, except for the visit three days earlier from Stephen O’Malley, aka The Challenger Kid, which he’d completely forgotten. When Leo finished, Hal sat gazing into his cup without speaking. After a time, Hal leaned back in his chair and said what he’d been thinking. "Congratulations, you’ve messed up their plans. They screwed-up when they killed Tye because then they couldn't scare you into selling.” Hal slowly shook his head. “I swear Leo, when you get pissed-off, I don’t think Satan himself could scare you.” Hal paused and a slight grin formed as if he were remembering something. Then he became serious and continued. “What you've forced them to do is give us a timeline, and they are too smart to accidentally make that kind of stupid mistake. That means they don't care, and that bothers me; bothers me a lot." Hal laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the ceiling tiles. Leo had already thought about the timeline but didn't say anything to Hal about it. Instead, he asked about the reason Hal had gone back to Quantico. Wrapping both hands around his cup, Hal hunched over with his arms resting on the table and shook his head. "You know I can't talk about that." He couldn't tell Leo about his Plan B and that he was going to intentionally be captured by Spurlock. At least he hoped that he would be captured and not simply killed. June 21 Hal’s plan B Hal had been camped on Leo's property for nine days. He’d been openly asking questions and some of the town folks were finally beginning to talk to him about Spurlock. Hal was deliberately trying to provoke a response from Spurlock, but so far, there had been nothing. They had a pretty good system in place; Hal would get a lead and Leo would follow up on it. It made sense for them to work together this way because Leo knew the area better than Hal did, and Leo had dependable transportation that could get him in and out of rough places. Leo was standing at his kitchen window and watched as three very small houseboats approached and then stopped at the floating building. As soon as the first one was inside, the door slid down closing out the rest of the world. Leo continued watching while the other two houseboats were secured to the outside of the building and left there. The building had no windows and the only light source came from fluorescent bulbs powered by a diesel generator. He couldn’t hear the generator running, so Leo assumed that nobody would be staying. Leo had been watching every day and this was the first time there was anything to see. Two men had arrived in two SUVs a half-hour ago, and now eight men were leaving in the same two vehicles. Leo figured the extra men in the vehicles must be the ones that had delivered the houseboats; but now what? There was nobody at the facility to make repairs, if that was what the building was really for. Leo doubted it. Actually, he was convinced. He was convinced that Spurlock was up to something, and that something was time-limited and wrong, very, very wrong. "Hey, earth calling Leo Willard, come in Willard." Leo jumped. He was startled because Hal had come into the house without him hearing. Leo turned toward his friend and acted as if he hadn't been startled at all. "There’s coffee already made; helped yourself." Hal poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. A moment later, Leo joined Hal and then waited expectantly to hear about any new leads. Hal was looking at his notepad but was obviously lost in thought. Leo waited quietly for a few moments and then Hal said what he was thinking. "It's all about the Goshen Bridge and Tar Springs area. Wess has bought about 10,000 acres of land back there in the middle of nowhere. I was told the same basic story by several different people and apparently Spurlock has even put a locked gate across a county road." Hal stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I don't know. It just seems like that section is the hub and everything revolves around it. I would love to know what's out there." Leo immediately volunteered to go and take a look. "Okay," Hal said, "but first I think we might have another problem." This got Leo's attention. "I take it that you heard something?" Hal looked worried. "Yeah. Do you know somebody named Tobias Morgan?" "Sure, he is one of the guys that had a run of bad luck forcing him to sell-out to Spurlock. His place burned to the ground." Hal was nodding his head with understanding. "Well, some of his family is up in arms and the last thing we need is a bunch of local rednecks running around with guns. Before you do anything else maybe you could talk to him." June 21 On his way to JFV Headquarters When Daniel Wess had gone back to New York City on June 9, he’d spent 10-days establishing his alibi by making sure he was seen several places by a lot of people. He’d also purchased a new identity for himself complete with driver’s license and credit cards. Using his new identity, he’d purchased a roundtrip ticket to Louisville Kentucky which would allow him 36-hours to take care of any last minute details. According to everything he’d learned about how the brain works, Wess was sure that Spurlock had taken the bait. For Spurlock, it was all about money, but Wess thought it was a good idea to double check. Since he’d added part two to his original plan, it was now extremely important for Wess to know exactly when part two would happen so he would know where he should be. More importantly, he would know where he should not be. Wess thought about what he was doing and how it would affect millions of innocent people. No, they are not innocent. They chose to ignore the truth about what happened on 9-11 and they chose to believe transparent lies without question. They are not innocent and deserve what they get. Wess turned off the blacktop county road and onto the dirt two-track that would take him to the new JFV compound. Apparently, it had rained while he’d been gone because the dirt two-track had turned into a mud two-track so he engaged the four-wheel drive. *** When Wess stopped in front of the JFV headquarters, he was met by Spurlock and as always Spurlock was shadowed by Jinks. Wess had never gotten used to the uncomfortable feeling that Jinks’ presence always produced. Wess thought that Spurlock and Jinks were a perfect pair because Spurlock looked scary as hell and Jinks felt dangerous as hell. He was convinced that Jinks would kill anyone, or die himself, to protect Spurlock. As soon as Wess was out of his truck, Spurlock said, “Hey, we might have a problem.” Wess took on a worried look and a tingle of fear ran down both legs. This was not something he wanted to hear. “What’s going on?” Spurlock said, “There’s a stranger in town asking a lot of questions about both of us. I hear he drives a ratty old pickup with Tennessee plates and nobody seems to think he’s a cop.” Wess was glad to hear the guy wasn’t a cop and felt some of the tension leaving his body. “Does this guy had a name?” Spurlock’s attention had been momentarily drawn away from Wess. He was looking over the top of Wess’ head at two buzzards circling high in the sky and wondered how the birds could locate food from that altitude. How in the hell? Is it by sight or scent? Wess said, “”Well?” It took Spurlock a moment for his brain to engage. “Huh... Hackabie, Hal Hackabie. I would like to talk with him and maybe find out what the hell he wants.” Wess thought for a moment. “I’ve never heard him.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Is everything in place to receive the shipment?” Standing a few feet away, Jinks took it all in but said nothing. June 22 6:00 AM Leo was on his way to see Tobias Morgan and hopefully prevent his family from getting involved and possibly hurt. Fortunately, he still had the map of how to find Morgan's in-law's place and now he had a vehicle that could get him there. When he got to the McQuady store, Leo turned right onto a narrow one-lane gravel road that had at one time been a railroad. The steel tracks and wooden ties had been removed 100-years earlier creating a gravel roadbed but then nothing more was done. The railroad company had simply abandoned the property, and the county didn't own it, so nobody took care of the roadbed. The only exception was the half-dozen people that depended on the road as the only way for them to access their property and they could afford to do only the bare minimum. Leo would have enjoyed the magnificent view but he was too busy dodging the holes, ruts, and washed-out places in the road to enjoy the rock cliffs on his left or the meandering stream on his right. There was about six miles of this road before he came to a rocky dirt lane with a mailbox that was riddled with bullet holes. Carefully examining the old mailbox, Leo could make out the faded name that someone had hand painted in black: W CROSS. Satisfied that he’d found the right place, Leo turned left and went to the top of the first steep rise. That's where he stopped. Leo was surprised to find three well-armed young men that apparently had been waiting for him. There were two blocking the road and one at the driver's window. At first glance, they appeared to be classic examples of rag-tag hillbillies, but then Leo noticed their weapons. They were each holding newer Remington pump action shotguns and each also had expensive looking high-powered rifles with scopes hanging from their shoulders. Leo knew that these firearms were impressive by anyone's standards. The one at the window spoke. "Are you bad lost or just stupid?" Leo had never encountered people like this before and was momentarily at a loss for words. The man at his window had a dark well-tanned complexion, black hair, and appeared to be in his mid 20's. Glancing at the other two, Leo thought they all looked very much alike. Probably brothers. The young man at his window said, "Well? Cat got your tongue?" That seemed to unlock Leo's brain making it possible for him to speak. "I'm here to see Tobias Morgan. I just want to talk to him." Leo’s unlocked brain began playing scenes from the movie, Deliverance, which he hadn’t thought of in years until Hal had mentioned it. Remembering it now, caused the hair on Leo’s arms stand. "Hey, I know who you are." One of the young men that had been blocking the road had materialized at the passenger side window. "This is Johnny Clark's truck; Uncle Tobias told us about you." Leo dropped his head and closed his eyes in relief. A second later, he was ready to try convincing the young men that he was harmless and only wanted to talk. Raising his head, Leo was astonished to see that he was totally alone. There had been no sound, no sense of movement, yet somehow all three of the young men were gone. Leo was glad that he’d purchased that particular pickup because he understood that he was an outsider, but the truck wasn’t and it gave him access to more than the local roads. *** Fifteen minutes later, Leo parked in front of a lovely old farmhouse from the 1950's era. Everything he could see appeared to be clean, neat, and well maintained. Leo opened his pickup door and stepped out just as Tobias appeared in the doorway of a large out building. "Hey Leo, how ya hangin'?" That seemed to be Tobias' standard greeting and it always brought a smile, but Leo had no idea how to respond. They walked toward each other and met in the shade of a giant beech tree where they shook hands. Although they had only met a few times before, Tobias made Leo feel like a long-lost best friend. Leo was not sure how to start the conversation. "I came here today to ask you for a favor." Yeah, that sounded okay. Tobias looked uncertain. "I don't rightly know what in the world I kin do for you, but I'd be mighty proud to try." Leo wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was going to get, but for everybody's well-being, he had to ask. "I've heard rumors that some of your family members are going to try to square things with Spurlock. I want you to stop them." Tobias looked like he’d been hit in the face with a snowball. "Leo, things is different out here than in the city. Family is all we got, and besides, the ones you're talkin' 'bout is my wife's nephews. I ain't got no say over them boys.” Looking down and slowly shaking his head, Tobias quietly added, “Reckon nobody does." There was a moment of silence before he continued. "We don't know much about what goes on in the rest of the world, and truth be told, we don't much care. But thay's not much goes on in our own backyard we don't know about.” He raised his head and met Leo’s eyes. “And that we do care about; a lot." Leo thought he’d met the nephew’s Tobias was talking about just minutes earlier. He was convinced that those young men were very good at what they did but they would be no match against Spurlock and Jinks. They visited for a few minutes and then Leo left Tobias, not with words of warning, but of caution, and hopefully in a format that he could fully understand. Leo simply told him, “Tell your nephews there’s some really big dogs in this hunt.” *** Immediately after leaving Tobias Morgan, Leo was on his way to the Goshen Bridge, or rather where the bridge had been before it collapsed several years earlier. The county had abandoned the old gravel road after the bridge was gone because nobody lived along there anymore. Hal had been told that Wess had purchased all the land for more than a mile along both sides of the road south of the bridge site and for a half-mile on the north side. Then Spurlock had put a locked gate across the road north of the bridge site. Due to neglect, the road had become nearly impassable and now only the local fishermen and a few teenage partygoers ever used it. Leo went back to Cloverport but didn’t stop anywhere. Turning right onto Tar Springs Road, he was able to maintain about 20 mph and enjoy the scenery for the first 1 1/2 miles. The next mile, his speed dropped in half and he was too busy dodging huge rocks and deep holes to notice nature’s beauty. The mile after that, Leo had to engage the four-wheel drive and his speed dropped to less than 2 mph. Next, Leo got to practice driving skills that he’d never learned and the last two miles, he’d walked. When Leo got near the top of a long hill, he was hot, sweaty, and the tingle he felt with each step had turned into a throbbing pain. He had no reason to hurry, so he sat in the shade beside the road to cool down and rest. He was leaning back against a huge oak tree listening to a mosquito buzzing around his ear when he suddenly detected the faint odor of cigarette smoke. The images of Tye's bloody body and the nearby clump of cigarette butts flashed through his mind. Leo knew that the majority of people in that area smoked, so smelling cigarette smoke was probably meaningless; but he thought he should be more cautious anyway. With one hand resting on his 9mm Sig-Sauer, and using the dense forest for cover, Leo slowly eased forward toward the top of the hill. When he reached the crest and peered over, he could see a metal gate across the road with a sign in the center. The sign read: Keep out No trespassing Trespassers will be shot Leo got another whiff of cigarette smoke. It was much stronger this time, and he began looking for the source. A moment later, he saw a thin line of smoke drifting up from the opposite side of a tree 10-yards in front of him. He quietly sank to the ground behind an old stump and then peered out around it keeping an eye on the spot where he’d seen the smoke. What is this guy doing here? Maybe snooping, the same as me. Maybe I can get around him and just leave his smoky ass here. "Hey Stevens! Where the fuck you at?" Leo ducked as if he'd been shot at. Then he realized that the shout had come from the other side of the metal gate Smokey-ass answered. "I'm takin' a dump. Hang on; I'll be there in a second." "Be careful what you wipe with. They's a powerful lot of poison ivy 'round here." Smokey-ass Stevens moved away from the tree adjusting his clothes as he went. Leo could see that Stevens was dressed in green camouflage and was carrying an AK47 assault rifle. What kind of squirrel bait have I found? The movie, Deliverance flashed through Leo's mind again and he blinked his eyes to clear his thoughts. The angle from which he was viewing Smokey-ass Stevens, Leo couldn't tell if the guy was young or old, black or white. Leo had to stop thinking and start listening. "What tripped the wire?" "It wasn't a Claymore; it was one of those damn nasty Bouncing Betties. I think it was a deer, maybe a goat. Kinda hard to tell; not much left." Leo shuddered. It took a moment before he could feel anything, and when he did, it was his heart throbbing in a pool of bile in the back of his throat. Only moments before he’d decided to sneak passed Smoky-ass Stevens and go sightseeing in a place that was booby-trapped. Leo knew that the M18A1 Claymore was an anti-personnel weapon, and the Bouncing Betty landmines had claimed many American lives in Vietnam. I knew those damn things were still being used in some third-world countries; but this is Kentucky, the Blue Grass State, Middle America. How the hell did they get here? The new guy was talking to Stevens. "Okay, I'll take over here. Spurlock wants to see you on the double." The two men had moved around enough for Leo to vaguely see both of them. They were dressed very much alike except the new guy had a blue bandanna tied around his head. He was carrying an AK47 rifle but Leo could also see what appeared to be a pistol at his waist and a combat knife secured to his leg below the knee. Are they expecting trouble or are they looking for it? Leo watched Smoky-ass Stevens trot over the hill out of sight, and then Bandanna Boy sat in the shade near the gate. Leo stayed where he was, afraid to move. I might be lying on a Bouncing Betty right now. Leo strained his memory banks trying to remember what he’d spent the last forty years trying to forget. In the Bouncing Betty landmines, the detonator was a pressure release switch with up to a three-second delay. If it was quiet, a person could hear the metallic click when pressure was applied and it wouldn't go off until the pressure was released. Leo breathed a sigh of relief; everything had been quiet and he'd heard nothing. Maybe it was safe for him to move. Leo wasn't worried about a trip-wire if he went back the way he had come because if there had been one, he would already be dead. A landmine, however, was different; it was possible that he’d stepped over it on the way up the hill. He raised his head slightly and peaked around the stump at Bandanna Boy. After what seemed like a very long time, the man's eyes were finally closed and his head was tilted down with his chin resting on his chest. Leo continued watching a while longer until he was certain that Bandanna Boy was dosing. Leo knew he couldn't risk standing and it was much more difficult to move quietly on all fours. Cora honey, if there is anything you can do to help, now's the time. Leo rose up onto his hands and knees and began moving backward. Almost immediately, his left knee came down on a dry stick and the resulting snap sounded like a rifle shot to him. Leo instantly froze in place and remained motionless watching Bandanna Boy for a reaction but there was none. Thanks babe. Leo watched for a moment longer and then continued his backward descent down the hill. When it was safe to stand, Leo got back to his pickup in a surprisingly short time. Same time JFV headquarters Spurlock stood in the center of the living room with his arms folded across his chest. He knew that Wess would be back any minute and there was no way to keep this screw-up from him. Spurlock was pissed-off and his cold colorless eyes were boring deep into Buddy Jinks. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jinks? You fuckin' stupid or something? Why the fuck did you bring him here?" Jinks hung his head and shifted his weight from side to side. "You said you wanted to talk to him 'cause he was asking so many questions. I just thought…" Spurlock pounced, "No, you didn't think! Now, what do you suggest we do with him?" Jinks was clearly uncomfortable. He felt certain that regardless of his answer, it would be wrong. "Don't know. Fish food, maybe." Spurlock slowly paced across the room and then stopped facing the window. Looking out at Jinks' 30-year-old Jeep Wagoneer, he asked, "Are you 100 percent sure that he didn't see your face or know where he's at now?" "Absolutely", Jinks said with confidence. "By the time he woke up, he was already zipped-up in the body-bag with a carpet wrapped around him. And we soaked the carpet good so the heat wouldn't kill him before you got to talk to him." Spurlock continued looking out the window. "Did you remember to leave him an air hole?" "Hell yeah, sure did." Jinks was beginning to think that everything was going to be okay. Spurlock nodded his approval. "Sounds like you did that much right." Turning to face Jinks he said, "Okay, Wess just got here; let's go find out who th' hell this sonofabitch is." Spurlock explained the situation to Wess but left out the part about Jinks acting alone. When Wess had been brought up to speed, Spurlock added his opinion. “I think we need to hear what this guy is up to. He might know something that would be a game changer.” Wess couldn’t fathom the idea of changing the plan now; it was too late and he’d already invested too much. He’d put everything on the line including his relationship with Sharon Kay. *** Hal was lying on his back, finding it difficult to breathe, impossible to see, and unbearably hot. He didn't know where he was, but he did know that he didn't like it. The sensation of movement had stopped long ago, and now he was beginning to have crazy thoughts: maybe I'm in a coffin, maybe I'm already in a grave and worst of all maybe I'm in hell. As Hal became more aware of himself, the first thing he was most aware of was a sharp throbbing pain on the back of his head. Attempting to move his arms, Hal discovered that he was tightly enclosed in what felt like heavy plastic. He began conducting experiments on himself and his current environment. He found that although he couldn't see, he could blink his eyes and move his mouth, tongue, and toes. He was ready to start exploring his environment when he suddenly felt movement. Hal thought he felt a rolling sensation, and a few seconds later, he was sure of it when the sensation became painfully rough. A moment more and the total blackness changed into a dim glow and at almost the same instant, he could hear voices. "Are you sure the old fucker could breathe?" "Yeah, I left the zipper open about an inch." "Okay, get him out of there." Hal heard the coarse rasp of a large zipper and then felt a cool breeze that threatened to chill him. Suddenly a blinding light penetrated his closed eyelids causing a sharp stabbing pain behind the eyeballs. Before he could adjust to the environmental changes, strong hands were picking him up into a standing position. A voice directly in front of him spoke. "Okay old man, you've got 10 seconds to tell me who you are and why I shouldn't kill you." It took Hal nearly all of the allotted time to regain his balance and the ability to open his eyes slightly. Using one hand to shade his eyes, Hal smiled and spoke with an Australian accent that he’d perfected by living in Australia for three years. "You must be Daniel Wess Jr. This is not exactly the way I envisioned meeting you mate, but I suppose it will have to do, now won't it. I'm Halbert Hackabie and I'm here because you need me." Hal's eyes were watering profusely but he could see that the extremely bright light was nothing more sinister than a sunny day. Wess asked, "What do I need you for; target practice?" A snicker came from Jinks, and with a look and a jerk of the head, Spurlock sent him away. Spurlock also noticed that there was a nice selection of new fishing equipment in the back of Jinks' vehicle but elected to say nothing about it. Hal deliberately looked at Spurlock as he spoke. "I believe that you wouldn't have to look far to find someone of lesser value to act as your bullet catcher." He watched Spurlock bristle and knew that he was pushing his luck but he needed to get Wess' attention. Wess appeared to be amused. "And what makes you valuable?" Hal thought that if he was careful, and lucky, he might survive one more day at least and three at most. "Do you have Internet access?" Showing his lack of maturity, Wess answered with an arrogant, "Of course, everybody’s got Internet." He hadn't forgotten his stay with his redneck grandfather where the internet had been forbidden. Hal tried to match Wess with a cocky, "Well then, Google me mate." Hal had spent a day establishing a false identity on the Internet and creating bogus FBI files for himself, Spurlock, and Daniel Wess Jr. He’d also set up a fake blog site and used Wess’ name as the keyword so that Google would find it easily. Then he’d simply set the computer on a loop and waited. In almost no time at all, the computer had set up more than 5000 fake blog sites with Daniel Wess Jr. as the only keyword. Wess looked over at Spurlock and issued an order. "Bring him." Turning on his heel, Wess marched toward the house. With an unreadable expression, Spurlock poked Hal in the back with an AK47 urging him to follow Wess. On top of a rock cliff overlooking JFV headquarters The three Cross brothers: 24-year-old Steve, 23-year-old Jimmy, and 18-year-old Billy had grown-up roaming these hills and knew every tree, every rock, every square inch of the unforgiving terrain. Their father had gone to prison for making moonshine when Billy had been only four months old and three months later, their mother had suffered a breakdown requiring extended hospitalization. Being the oldest at six-years-old, Steve had automatically assumed the role, man of the house. As a result, the three boys had, for the most part, raised themselves and lived by the same rules and laws as their ancestors. To say they were like wild Indians would not have been far from the truth. Their father’s mother was a Shawnee and all three boys looked as if they could be full-blooded. At that moment, the brothers were 150-yards from the JFV headquarters near the top of a rock cliff. They were watching through their riflescopes as Spurlock and Jinks removed something from the back of a vehicle. Billy whispered, "I got a dead shot on that slick-headed feller. Uncle Tobias says he’s the one that burned his place. His head would pop like a ripe zit." Although Billy had several rifles, his overall favorite was the one he’d brought with him today. It was a Remington 700 BDL 22-250 caliber and he’d experimented with several different reload options until he’d found the perfect combination of powder and bullet. When Billy said the head would pop, he meant it. Explode might be a more accurate way to describe the damage caused by one of his special reloads. Steve said, "Wait a bit; I want to see what that is." They watched as an old rug was unrolled revealing something in a huge charcoal-gray plastic bag. They were shocked when a man was pulled out of that bag. In a hushed voice Jimmy said, "I've seen enough; that ain't right." Being the oldest, Steve had always been the leader and his younger siblings accepted that as normal. When he said to wait, they did. Steve was looking at the man that had come out of the bag. "I know that guy. He's the stranger that's been asking all the questions about what's going on around here. I reckon he'll find out now." Jimmy said, “I think he’s buddies with Uncle Tobias’s friend. You know: the guy that bought Johnny Clark’s pickup. Billy asked, "What you want to do?" Steve lowered his rifle. "Leave 'um be for now and let that big guy get his answers. He's askin' the same questions as us." Billy looked disappointed and Steve said, "Oh cheer up. You can pop that bald feller later; he's all yours; I promise." JFV Headquarters Wess’ office Wess was sitting on the edge of his plush office chair leaning over with his arms on the custom-made mahogany computer desk. His eyes were focused on a 27-inch flat screen monitor while he read what Google had to say about Halbert Hackabie. Halbert Hackabie, aka – Hal-the-Hack – reported to be the best hacker in the world today by leading experts at Microsoft, Symantec, Patrol Software, Computer Associates, and others. It is said that if Hal-the-Hack wants it he will get it. Nothing is safe or off limits. When Wess finished reading, he leaned back and continued looking at the monitor obviously in deep thought. A full minute slowly passed before he spoke. "Okay, you got my attention, but how do I know that you are this Hackabie guy?" Spurlock had also been reading what was on the screen and made a suggestion. "How about a little demonstration." Wess' face cracked with a devilish smile. "Yeah, how about it?" Hal looked first at Wess and then at Spurlock. Thank you Mr. Spurlock. You are as stupid as I’d hoped. "No problem mate, but it will have to be something simple because I don't have my tool kit with me." Spurlock leaned in close to Hal's face and patted the AK47. "Don't make it too simple." Hal pretended to be thinking and then said, "Would you blokes like to see your FBI files?" He got the reaction he was expecting. Spurlock's face showed surprise even without eyebrows and then he jabbed a finger in Hal's chest as he spoke. "Man, if you're jerking me around, I'll put you back in that body bag without the fuckin' air hole." He moved away from Hal and said, "Do it." Wess sprang up from the chair and moved out from behind the desk without speaking. Hal stepped around Wess, sat in the plush chair, and then looked for the CPU so he would know what he was working with. He was happily surprised to find an IBM X3500 M2; an equivalent system to the one he used at the Quantico training lab. Hal rolled the chair closer to the desk and positioned the keyboard for his comfort. It was time for Hal-the-Hack to go to work. Hal-the-Hack looked up at Wess and Spurlock who were both hovering over him like hungry vultures. "If you want to watch, do it from over there." He pointed at the wall that was 12 feet away. "Trade secrets." There was some hesitation and angry looks, but they did his bidding. Hal waited until both men had moved away before tapping the keys. Let the games begin. “OK, who’s first?” Attempting to look and sound sinister, Wess said, “How about we start with you.” Hal leaned forward and hunched over the keyboard trying hard not to laugh aloud. So far, the FBI profilers at Quantico that I checked with have been 100% right. *** Wess had been standing with his back against the wall listening to the keyboard click and clack with an occasional ding or beep for almost 10 minutes. "Hey, how much longer?" Hal had been wondering when he would hear that question. Within the first four minutes on Wess' computer, he’d created a link to the FBI's computer lab at Quantico. From that moment on, the FBI could monitor everything coming into or going out of Wess' computer. Hal had also uploaded everything on Wess' hard drive so they could examine the history and see where he'd been. The best part was that the computer also acted like a GPS, in that the FBI would be able to pinpoint that exact location. "Almost there." Hal made them wait a minute longer just for fun. "Okay, we're in." He waited until they were beside him. "Listen up and pay attention; I'm not playing games here. The Fed's can track this bloody computer to within 10 square feet of this desk and they will do it in 17 seconds. When I open this file, you will have exactly 12 seconds to read before I shut it down. Understood?" Both men nodded and Hal opened the bogus file. The 27-inch screen was instantly filled with an official-looking FBI document and the 12-second countdown began. Halbert Hackabie - aka – Hal-the-Hack (Date Entered the U.S.) Unknown - (POE) Unknown - (Status) Unknown - (Type) Unknown (POB) – Sydney Australia _ (DOB) - 2/27/1952_ (Height) – 6' 7" _ (Weight) 220 lbs. _ (Hair) Brown _ (Eyes) Brown Hackabie is believed to be responsible for numerous data bank security breaches worldwide and is a person of interest in numerous other Internet related offenses. Little is known about Hackabie and an APB has been issued by law enforcement nationwide. Halbert Hackabie is believed to currently be in the Midwest or Southern states. Paul Gilmore, coordinator of the TWG (Terrorist Watch Group) division of the Homeland Security, has also listed Hackabie as a person of interest in the "Times up," Hal announced as the monitor went black. He’d unplugged the power strip from the wall outlet effectively turning off the CPU, monitor, satellite modem, and the all-in-one fax/copier/printer. "I can't get back into the FBI files for 24 hours; at least not with this computer or from this location." Wess and Spurlock turned their heads in unison looking first at Hal and then at each other. Wess was the first to speak. "Okay, so maybe you are who you claim to be. So what? I don't see how I need your help." Hal realized that Wess was over the initial shock of getting into the FBI files and he would have to take a chance. If he were asked to prove what he was about to say it might be over. There were more than 5000 sites but they were all exactly the same. Hal began, "Well for one thing mate, your name, and bits and pieces of whatever it is you are doing here, is all over the bloody net. I'm talking about countless chat rooms and hundreds of opinion blogs where people all over the world know bits and pieces about what you're doing here.” Wess interrupted. “What the hell do people think they know?” Hal continued, “We bloody well know that you inherited a multimillion-dollar fortune on your 21st birthday. We know that you purchased a bunch of worthless old farms in the middle of nowhere that are all joined so that now you own thousands of acres in one big plot. We also know that you have purchased 19 new mobile homes. But what nobody seems to know, is what you plan to do with it. That's where the opinion blogs come into play. I'm certain you've heard the old saying: ‘An opinion is like an asshole, everybody's got one.’ Well, all of those assholes are making guesses and some of those guesses are downright freaky. There is only one thing you can count on mate; sooner or later your nosey old Uncle Sammy will start paying attention, and in my humble opinion it will be sooner if not already.” Wess and Spurlock exchanged a glance and then Wess began pacing back and forth across the small room. There were two minutes of silence before Wess spoke. "You still haven't said how you can help." Hal released a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. The fish is hooked, now reel him in slow and easy. "We live in a world of information, and information is power. The only way to combat information is with misinformation. Let people know what you want them to know and fill cyberspace with it. That's what I can do." Spurlock asked the obvious question. "What's in it for you?" Hal was told by the profilers to anticipate this question and he was ready for it. "A piece of the pie, mate; what else?" Hal saw a look pass between Wess and Spurlock. "Come on guys, there are some things you simply cannot do; one being - you can't bullshit a bullshiter. I don't know what you got, but I know you've got something. Maybe there's gold in them thar hills. Whatever it is, I want in." Wess began pacing around the small room, and on the second lap, he stopped in front of the window. He gently parted the blind enough to see out as he spoke. "I think you may be right; I do need your help and I don't need the Feds snooping around. However, you are wrong about everything else." Wess turned around to face Hal. "You will help me, and in return, I will allow you to live. As of this moment consider yourself a prisoner of war." Hal looked up at Wess in mock surprise. "What happened to, honor among thieves?" P.O.W? Is this kid playing war games? Anyway, I guess my acting skills must have improved with age; this was easy. Looking indignant Wess said, "I'm not a thief." Wess and Spurlock left Hal in the office with a guard and orders to clean up the Internet. Going out to the new Silverado, Wess explained that he had to go back to the city on business. Wess needlessly reminded Spurlock that he was in charge during his absence and that he would be back in a few days. He was certain that this area would be one of the few safe places to be when his plan was fully implemented.  Quantico, VA Same time Special Agent Alex Thompson stood in his private washroom looking at himself in the full-length mirror. He didn’t see a well-dressed 63-year-old FBI agent that was still fit and trim with no hair and big ears. Instead, he saw a tired old man that had sent his best friend into a possible death trap because he was the boss and that was part of his job. In most ways, this mission was the same as all missions. As the boss, it was Thompson’s responsibility to ensure the FBI’s success by sending the best agent for the job. However, in some ways this mission was very different because the best agent for the job was also his best friend. Sometimes it sucks to be the boss. Agent Thompson drew in a deep breath and then opened the door. The washroom was only three steps from Thompson’s desk and he was soon back in his chair. Staring at the huge map of Kentucky that covered most of one wall and all of his awards only deepened his already dark mood. His best friend, and fellow agent, Hal Hackney, was somewhere deep in the bowels of what he’d nicknamed Deliveranceville after the 1970s movie Deliverance. He’d heard of that movie but he’d never seen it, and as a joke, he’d watch it with Hal the night before he’d left for Breckinridge County Kentucky. Now, he didn’t think it was a very good joke and was sorry. Agent Thompson had studied Breckenridge County, and all surrounding counties, until he was satisfied there was absolutely nothing of value on, below, or above the ground in any direction for 100 miles. There’s no good reason why Daniel Wess would buy thousands of acres in that place, so that means it has to be for something bad. Thompson thought about the call from Daniel Wess’ accountant warning the New York City FBI office the kid might be mentally unstable and with access to enough money to create a real problem. If it hadn’t been for that tip, nobody would’ve given Daniel Wess a thought and he wouldn’t be my problem now. Thompson understood that the only reason the Daniel Wess case had been handed off to Quantico was because he had the necessary technology to handle the surveillance. A knock on the door got Thompson’s attention. "Come." A young agent opened the door a few inches and stuck his face in the space. "We got him, sir. We've got Agent Hackney's location on satellite image; 9 seconds flat, just like The Hack said." The young man was wearing a smile that completely covered half his face. Agent Thompson knew that most of the young agents viewed Agent Hackney with something close to a hero worship and he understood why they would. They didn't know Hal Hackney the man or why Agent Hackney had devoted his life to the bureau and never married. Nor had any of the young agents ever questioned it. They had not stayed by Hal Hackney's side for more than a week, while the man, not the agent, mourned the loss of his only true love; Alex Thompson had. Although Agent Thompson was nearing retirement age, he’d gotten out of his chair, around the desk and across the room to the door almost quicker than the young man could get out of the way. Charging into the computer lab, Thompson shouted for someone to put the image up on the big screen. The 4-sided 72-inch screen that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room came to life with the FBI's satellite imaging system that was similar to Google Earth. The FBI's system however, had the advantage of displaying images in real-time and had the capability of zooming in with enough clarity to read vehicle license plates. Thompson studied the picture on the screen and saw an older ranch style home surrounded on three sides by trees. There were two small sheds in the backyard and a barn about 150 yards further back, but what held his attention was the three vehicles parked in the drive. There was a new Chevrolet Silverado 4X4, a new Jeep Wrangler 4X4, and a very old Jeep Wagoneer. Because the image updated every three seconds, it was almost like watching a very jerky silent movie except for at that moment nothing was moving. Thompson raised his voice so that he was sure everyone could hear and issued an order that was directed at no one in particular. "I want an 8X10 of everyone that goes in or out, and I want a complete profile on the owners of every vehicle that stops at that location." A young female agent had anticipated that he would ask and handed him printouts from the DMV on the three vehicles presently at the house. Thompson read the names and was not surprised at the first two. He’d expected Daniel Wess Jr. and Russell Spurlock but the third name, Bartholomew (Buddy) Jinks, was new to him. Before the end of the day, I will know more about you than your own mama, maybe even including how often you masturbate. Thompson looked toward the young agent that had handed him the printouts. “Thank you Agent Todd. This is a good start, now get me the rest.” Cloverport, 12:15 PM When Leo had finally gotten back to his pickup, he was hot, drenched in sweat, and out of breath. He had all the classic symptoms one might expect to go along with over exertion on a hot day, but this time it was all caused by nerves. He’d dealt with the idea of possibly being shot more than 30 years ago but he wasn’t used to the idea of maybe getting blown up. Before Leo got in his pickup, he took a moment to check himself over to be certain he didn’t have any missing parts caused by an explosion he couldn’t remember. Finding himself intact and with the knowledge that the dampness he felt really was sweat, not blood; Leo glanced back toward the ridgeline and said a silent, Thanks. By the time Leo turned onto the blacktop road, he was again in control of his overwrought nervous system. He’d made good time on the rough road and now he was almost home. He was excited and in a hurry because he finally had some news to share with Hal. Leo would attempt to explain about Tobias Morgan and his wife's nephews in a way that would make sense to someone from the city. Leo didn't know what it meant, but he could also tell Hal about the gate, the booby traps, and the armed guards. When Leo turned into his driveway, he was forced to stop. The same 1972 Dodge Challenger that Stephen O’Malley had been driving was sitting there in a shady spot with its engine shut off. The driver was sitting behind the wheel, and even from the back, Leo knew that it was Stephen O'Malley. The young man made no attempt to move out of the way so Leo got out of his pickup to find out what the boy had on his mind. When Leo had his feet under him that pesky .22 caliber bullet in his spine reminded him that he was no longer a young man himself. Out of habit, Leo approached the vehicle like a cop. When he was near the back seat window, he stopped and spoke from there. "What can I do for you Stephen?" The young man chuckled and poked both arms out through the open window. "Mr. Willard. I'm sure you're packin', but I'm not. I'm gonna open my door from the outside and get out, then we can talk." Leo didn’t remember telling the young man his name, but wasn't positive. Besides, he knew that the kid could have asked anybody in Cloverport and learned his name. Leo watched while Stephen O'Malley unlatched the door and then stood while keeping his arms poked through the open window. Leo didn't feel threatened by the young man and said, "Relax, just tell me why you're sitting here in my driveway." Stephen O'Malley pulled his arms out of the window and turned toward Leo placing one arm on top of the open door and the other on top the car. Then he raised one foot resting it behind him near the driver's seat before speaking. “Are you all right man? You looked like hell.” Leo thought he detected a flicker of something real slip passed the cocky tough guy mask the kid was wearing but said nothing. After a short pause, Stephen O’Malley continued. "You called me Stephen so I know you ran my plates and checked me out. That's okay, but just so you know, it works both ways." He slowly removed a small sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and then read from it. "Leo Willard, US Border Patrol, stationed in Douglas Arizona, early retirement due to gunshot wound, moved here about six months ago." Stephen stopped reading and glanced up at Leo. "How am I doing so far?" Leo was dumbstruck. How could this kid get this much information? "Who the hell are you anyway?" Stephen O'Malley showed Leo his cocky grin again. "You already know who I am. Now answer my questions. Where is the guy that was camping on your place? Hal Hackney, aka, Halbert Hackabie, aka, Hal-the-Hack, and don't jerk me around. I know that you know him; you worked a kidnapping case with him a few years back." There was a long silence while Leo was getting his tongue untangled, and when he could speak, he didn't answer the question. "The only thing I'm going to tell you is that you are trespassing on private property. I'm going to move my truck and then you are going to back out of here and leave." Without another word, Leo went to his pickup and backed into the street followed closely by the Dodge Challenger. Leo sat in the middle of the street and watched the vintage car go west two blocks turn left onto State Road 105, and then disappear. Leo didn't move until the traffic behind him became impatient and began blowing their horns. He pulled back into his driveway and stopped in the shady spot where Stephen O'Malley had been parked. Leo discovered that due to a curve in the driveway and the summer foliage, anyone in that spot would be completely out of sight from his house. Driving on to the house, Leo could see that Hal's tent was gone. Leo parked beside Hal's old Chevy pickup and then thought he could see a thin trail of smoke rising from where the tent had been. What the…? He quickly got out and rushed toward the smoke to investigate. Something must be wrong; Hal never had a campfire. When Leo was halfway to the campsite, he could see that the smoke was coming from a sleeping bag. Upon closer inspection, he found the nylon tent was completely melted away leaving only sticky black goo. There was no sign of Hal. Leo immediately made the decision to treat this as a crime scene and all thoughts about Stephen O'Malley were instantly gone. Standing in one spot, Leo turned a complete circle, and by using natural landmarks, mapped a grid in his mind. Leo walked the grid carefully, covering every inch and then did it again, this time on his hands and knees. An hour later, all he’d found were scrape marks in the muddy bank of Town Creek that might have been made by a boat. What he did not find was any of Hal's new fishing equipment; not a single piece. Leo retrieved his Nikon digital camera from his house and took dozens of snapshots starting with the scrape marks in the muddy bank. And then everything around the smoldering campsite and from every possible angle. All he could do now was wait. It was only 2:20 PM and he expected it to be a very long afternoon. Leo had an uncomfortable feeling that his friend, Hal Hackney, would not be coming to the house later for his usual shower. Leo considered notifying the city police, but only briefly. Charlie was the chief of police, but he was not a cop. Instead, Leo decided he would notify Hal's teammates at Quantico. Although Leo had almost 35 years in law enforcement, he felt completely inadequate to deal with whatever was going on here. Leo carefully composed the e-mail to Quantico, explaining who he was and the circumstances around Hal's disappearance. He also included his cell phone number and a brief message saying it was okay to call anytime. Leo clicked the send button and then went into the kitchen to make tea. Before the water was hot, the cell phone in his pocket began vibrating. "Willard." "Leo Willard?" A man's deep gruff voice asked. "That's right. Who's asking?" "This is Special Agent Thompson at Quantico. I'm calling to let you know we received your e-mail concerning Agent Hackney." "Thanks for getting back to me so fast. I believe Hal may be in trouble. What are you planning to do? I might be able to help." Leo noticed that Agent Thompson spoke with authority as if he was accustomed to giving orders. "Nothing; and neither are you. You need to enjoy your retirement and leave police work to the police." Leo was stunned; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. They are going to abandon Hal as if he’s disposable. Just 210 pounds of trash. Leo quickly went from stunned to madder than hell, but tried to keep his voice even. "So, that's it?" Thompson's voice took on a warning tone. "Yeah, that's it. And if I hear that you are meddling around in this, you will be arrested and charged with obstruction. Clear?" There was a moment of silence before Leo responded. "Crystal." Leo ended the call before he said something that might come back to bite him. He made tea and then sat gazing into the cup as if trying to read the leaves. How can they throw away one of their own? This is the FBI not the KGB. What kind of asshole is this Thompson guy anyway? 3:00 PM Leo didn't enjoy the view from his deck anymore and was still sitting at the kitchen table, still staring into the same cup of untouched tea. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. The idea that the damn FBI would abandon Hal like this is just wrong. Leo thought about how sometimes the CIA would abandon their captured spies in a hostile country. But this is Kentucky, and Hal doesn't work for the Castrated Idiots of America. I might be inadequate but it looks like I’m all Hal’s got. Leo leaped up. He was ready to take on Special Agent Thompson and the whole FBI in order to help Hal; or at least find out what had happened to him. The problem was that he didn't know where to start. Leo reviewed what Hal had told him about Wess. ‘Daniel Wess Jr., lost both parents in the 9-11 attack on the World Trade Center. He recently turned 21, which gave him access to more than $760 million. He's rich, angry, radical, and that makes him dangerous. We know he's up to something, but we don't know what.’ So maybe his motive is revenge after all. But against who? Leo thought about Hal and knew that he might already be dead. But if he isn’t, he soon will be if I don't get off my duff and go do something. Leo thought about Denver Specks and his fishing ordeal at the Goshen Bridge site, and then his own attempt to get there only to find a gate, armed guards, and deadly booby-traps. What could be out there that's worth that much security? Leo finally decided he needed to go see for himself. He thought about what Hal had said. The key to the whole thing might be at the Goshen Bridge. That area seems to be the hub and everything revolves around it. Leo knew he needed a way to get there and Denver Specks was fresh in his mind. Specks has a boat and knows how to get to the bridge; but he also has a lot of fear – justified fear. *** A half-hour later, Leo stopped his pickup near the gap in the fence in front of Denver Specks Scrap Yard. He parked in the same mud-hole as before but the mud was much softer this time. He sat there going over his plan in his mind trying to work out the details that might cause delays. In less than five minutes, he felt good about presenting his idea to Specks and got out. Ignoring the extra mud, Leo made his way to the back door of the house and met Denver Specks on his way out. The old man looked up at Leo squinting, "Oh, it's you again. I reckon you parked in that muddy spot so my old lady's damn sink won't drain." Specks had unwittingly given Leo the opening he needed and Leo jumped on it. "That's what I came to talk to you about." Specks was still squinting and raised one hand to shade his eyes. "What?" "How good is your well? You got a lot of water in the ground?" "Hell yeah! Enough for the whole damn city and two more just like it." Specks rocked back on his heels with pride. "Make a deal with you. You take me to the Goshen Bridge in your boat, and I'll help you get running water to your wife's bathtub." Leo noticed for the first time that the old man had only one good eye. The other was clouded over and seemed to be frozen in place unable to move. It was several seconds before Specks spoke. "How about we do it the other way 'round; water first, and then the boat ride. That way, if we don't make it back my old woman can clean up some for my burial." There was not a hint of humor in his voice or his manner so Leo glanced at his watch. Seeing that it was only 4:15 PM, he thought he could get it done before dark and agreed. It’s already been a long day, but if Hal is still alive, he’s fast running out of time and he’d do it for me. June 23 Leo rolled over and looked at the clock; 2:52AM, 21 minutes later than the last time he'd looked. The sweltering heat of this June night on the banks of the Ohio River was unbearable. Leo sat up and mopped the sweat from his face with a clean T-shirt that felt damp from the high humidity. If I live through this thing with Spurlock I’ll have an air conditioner before next summer. He knew there was no hope for sleep, in part because of the heat but mostly because of Hal. Leo got up, fixed a tall glass of ice tea, and then sat in the dark kitchen thinking. Everything revolves around Spurlock; the farmer's bad luck, Tye's murder, and now Hal's disappearance. It's all somehow connected; I know it in my gut. I just need proof. The most common motive for a crime is money, but that's not it, Wess has already got plenty. I don't see how it can be about power, jealousy, revenge, or any of the ordinary things that drive people. Something is missing; I don't have all the pieces. *** It was still an hour before dawn and Leo thought they must be getting close to the Goshen Bridge site. Specks had shut down the small outboard motor long ago and had been moving the 12-foot aluminum boat silently forward with a single canoe paddle. Specks whispered, "Grab one of them limbs and hang on to it. We need to stay here for a spell." Leo did as he was asked and held the boat in place. The dense fog swirled around them and created a perfect hiding place just as Specks had predicted. Specks got Leo's attention by poking him in the back with a fishing pole and then motioned for Leo to pick up a pole and pretend to be fishing. A few minutes later, they heard a vehicle coming and it passed in front of them from left to right without slowing down. Leo heard Specks speak quietly in wonderment. "Nooo, cain't be!" Leo looked back at him, not understanding. Specks removed his hat and ran his hand over the remaining thin gray hair on top his head. "That damn thing just crossed the creek." He raised his eyes to meet Leo's. "They ain't no bridge there no more." Leo didn't know what to say so he said nothing and they waited for the light of day in silence. The next 30-minutes gradually produced enough light to see the dark outline of a steel bridge across the creek 50-yards in front of them. Leo felt the boat rocking and looked behind him to see Specks standing. Denver Specks spoke slightly over a whisper. "I know that bridge. It's the one from Dogwood Creek that the county sold for scrap iron last month. I seen some boys cut it into four chunks and haul it off. I bid on it but…" A gravelly voice shouted from the bank, "Hey, you in the boat! Oh fuck, it's you again. What part of no trespassing don't you understand old man? Turn that damn thing around and get the fuck outa here. If you come back again, I'll sink that piece of shit boat with you in it." Quantico Same time Special Agent Thompson was stretched out on an overstuffed recliner that some of his staff had found somewhere in the building and brought into his office. He couldn't sleep but he could close his eyes and let his body relax. His mind however, was still racing from one scenario to the next with no end in sight. He’d spent several hours going over the information his staff had put together about Daniel Wess Jr. Thompson was troubled about the young man’s college degrees: Meteorology and Psychology. I don’t see any way for those two things to work together and they don’t seem to fit with any of Wess’ business ventures. And the kid knew that he would ake over his parents’ business but he didn’t take any business classes. There's got to be a reason; people just don't do this kind of shit without a damn good reason. There was a knock on his door. "Come." An attractive young agent with a bouncing ponytail opened the door and stuck her head in. "Agent Thompson sir, there's something you will want to see." Thompson rushed out and looked up at the big screen where he saw two men in a boat talking to a man on the bank. The man on the bank was standing where the canopy was sparse making it possible for him to be seen clearly. He was dressed in a complete camouflage package, except for the facemask, and carrying an AK47 assault rifle. Agent Thompson called out, "Get me…" Before he could finish, somebody handed him a sheet of paper. The attractive agent with the bouncing ponytail spoke. "We did a face search with the Kentucky DMV and got matches for the two in the boat. So far, the camo guy is an unknown, but we are running him through other databases. The men in the boat are both locals. The one wearing the hat is Denver Specks the other guy is Leo Willard and we assume they are fishing." Thompson snorted. "Fishing my ass." He gave Agent Ponytail her orders. "Find out everything there is to know about Denver Specks. I'll take care of Mr. Willard myself." The young agent in charge of monitoring heat signatures on the outer perimeter spoke. "Agent Thompson sir, there's something here you need to see." Thompson moved to where he could see and was surprised to find three unidentified heat sources moving in single file toward the JFV headquarters. After watching the glowing dots for a moment he asked, "Isn't that area extremely rough?" "Yes sir. It's mostly rock cliffs." Thompson watched another minute and silently cursed the budget cuts that prevented him from updating to better equipment. The frustration he felt could be easily heard in his voice. "I don't know what the hell they are; might be some kind of animal. Just keep an eye on them and let me know if there's any cause for concern." The Cross brothers going to Lucas Cave As always, the Cross brothers were in chronological order. Steve, being the oldest was in the lead, followed by Jimmy, and the youngest brother Billy brought up the rear. It was almost daylight as they walked in single file through a maze of rocks toward the tiny hidden entrance of Lucas Cave. About 100 years ago, George Lucas had accidentally found this cave while hunting because his dog had gone in and didn't come back out. The Cross brothers had grown-up playing in the cave and had explored every inch. This small cave was perfect for what they wanted to do now. The brothers could enter the cave ¾-mile from the house that was now the JFV headquarters and not have to emerge at all. Steve had found a break in the rocks 75-yards from the house when he was 13-years-old. He’d spent most of that summer in the cool comfort of the cave watching an older high school girl sunbathe when she’d thought she was alone. This morning, they had come prepared to stay for a while if it became necessary. The brothers each carried a pillowcase half-full of food things they could share, and there were four good freshwater springs in the cave that would furnish plenty of drinking water. They stopped walking and the three young men lay on their stomachs and one by one scooted under a rock ledge and into Lucas Cave. Jimmy said, "I'm sure glad to get in here. I had a spooky feeling like I was bein’ watched or somethin’." His brothers took what Jimmy said seriously. It was a well-known fact within the family that Jimmy had special sensors and could feel things that the others didn't. Steve grumbled because Jimmy hadn't said anything sooner. As the oldest, it was his self-appointed responsibility to make sure that his brothers were safe. Billy said, "Turn on your flashlights and let's get at it." None of them had been inside the cave in the last ten years and the passageway seemed to have shrunk. The areas where they could walk upright were few and now they had to walk bent over. They were surprised to find the places that had been narrow were now very tight and uncomfortable. Thirty-five minutes later, they reached the rock ledge near the house and Steve took the first watch while the younger brothers setup their camp. Cloverport June 23, 8:00AM There was no conversation on the ride back to town. Leo dropped Denver Specks off at his junkyard and thanked him again for the boat ride. Specks thanked Leo for the running water and then asked him nicely not to come back again. Leo understood and didn't blame the old man for feeling that way. When Leo got home, he fixed a glass of ice tea and then sat on the deck thinking. Why would someone construct a bridge on a county road? What could be there worth the amount of security that is currently in place? Why is my property important? Why has the FBI turned their back on Hal and demand that I do the same? Why did somebody kill Tye? Leo had an abundance of questions but was short on answers. Looking passed the white building, Leo watched a string of barges loaded with coal being pushed up the river. The towboat's diesel engines were loud enough that he failed to hear a car pull into his driveway. Detecting movement out of the corner of his eye, Leo turned his head to see two men walking toward him. They were both in their late 20's maybe 30, wearing dark suits, well-polished black shoes, and black sunshades. They were so much alike they could have been twins for at least brothers. The greatest distinguishing factor between them was one had a pointed nose. Their appearance and the way they carried themselves screamed, HEY, LOOK AT ME! I’M THE BIG BAD FBI, JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES! Pointy Nose was the first to speak. "Are you Willard?" Leo instantly disliked Pointy Nose. He was not accustomed to being talked down to. "No, but I am Mr. Willard. Pointy Nose continued undaunted by Leo's response. "I am Agent Leland and this is Agent Spencer, FBI." He flipped an ID open and then quickly closed it with a pop. "We are here to advise you to stay away from Daniel Wess." Leo frowned. The Federal Bureau of Intimidation. Then he spoke with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Damn the bad luck. I thought you boys were here to deliver my pizza." Leo couldn't see their eyes behind the dark shades but he imagined that they glanced at each other. Agent Spencer spoke for the first time. "Mr. Willard, we are not here to bust your balls. We were ordered to come here and advise you stop interfering, and I strongly recommend that you to pay attention." He reached up and removed the dark shades. Looking at Leo with intelligent steel-gray eyes, Agent Spencer said, "We will do our job." Leo refused to be intimidated and locked eyes with Agent Spencer. "All by yourselves?” No response. Leo asked, “What about Agent Hackney? He is one of your own. Are you going to just turn your back on him?" Without responding, Agent Spencer slid his shades back over his eyes and then both agents turned their back on Leo and walked away. The message was loud and clear. Leo waited until he heard two car doors close and then walked to the corner of the house. From there he discreetly watched the FBI agents drive away in a black Lincoln Town Car with dark tinted windows. Leo shook his head with disgust. Those guys are about as subtle as a battleship in the desert. Why don't they just put a sign on top the car like a taxi that says FBI? Leo limped back toward the deck with his mouth clamped tight. The FBI hassling him only made him more determined. JFV Headquarters Same time Hal had spent the night locked in the basement of the ranch style house that was currently being used as the Justice for Victims headquarters. When the house had been a family home, a section of the basement had been used as a family room, complete with a half bath. The room had indirect fluorescent lighting, light oak paneled walls, and gray indoor/outdoor carpet. There was a green threadbare recliner and a matching lumpy couch with the faint odor of cat urine. Otherwise, Hal had found the basement to be cool, dry, and for the most part, clean and comfortable. Hal knew that it would not stay comfortable for long, and when the change came, it would be something he wouldn't be expected to live through. He had wiggled his way in, and now he had to get what he came for and get out. His best guess; two days max. After that… Hal's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone at the top of the stairs unlocking the basement door. A moment later, one of Spurlock's pet monkeys came down the steps delivering his breakfast. He was dressed in camouflage, the same as everyone else, and had a shabby beard that failed to hide unsightly scars. In his mind, Hal immediately named the man Scarface. Scarface spoke with a New York accent. "We got us a new cook. If it tastes as good as it smells; she might be a keeper." He turned and marched back up the stairs closing the door firmly and the metallic sound of a lock clicking into place echoed in Hal’s ears. Hal had waited until he heard the door lock before turning his attention to the food. While he ate, Hal thought about his friend, Leo Willard. While using Wess’ computer the previous day, Hal had received a message from Agent Thompson stating that Willard was snooping around trying to learn what had happened to him. Good old Leo; he's a damn good friend, and a good cop. Hell, he's just good people, but this thing with Daniel Wess is out of his league. Hal turned his thoughts to current problems. He’d learned a few things for sure, but most of what he had were educated guesses. He was certain that Daniel Wess had a small, well-armed, well-trained militia, but he didn't have a clue as to what their objective might be. Fort Knox was only about 100 miles away, but Daniel Wess did not appear to be that crazy, and it didn't seem to be about money. There were several things that bothered Hal; one of the biggest was why Wess wanted Leo Willard's property. It was not connected to the several thousand acres that Wess already owned and had no major attributes. Leo's place just doesn't fit. Wess has been careful to only buy land that is connected to the land he already owns. He's never shown an interest in riverfront property before, so why now? Maybe it's not Wess; maybe it's Spurlock. Maybe Spurlock wants it for himself. No, that won't work; without Wess, Spurlock couldn't rub two dimes together. Seemingly, out of nowhere, a thought materialized and Hal thought he knew the answer to the question of why Wess wanted Leo Willard's property. Hell yeah, a shipping dock, it's a natural! Leo owns the point where Town Creek feeds into the Ohio River and with all that riverfront. What more could anybody want? But what does Wess want to ship? Hal had a theory as to why Wess wanted Leo Willard's property, but he didn't know if it was the right answer. If it was the right answer, then it created a new question that was even more troubling. Assuming I'm right, and it's not about money, that would eliminate the most common product that people need special shipping for: illegal drugs. What else could it be? At this point Hal realized that he needed to take his own advice, toss everything out, and start over. He knew that a piece of the puzzle was missing and it was something important. Hal needed more information and decided his best chance to get it was to find out what was going on upstairs. He suddenly remembered seeing a cool air return vent in the floor behind Wess' desk. Hal knew that ductwork was great for transmitting sound and he knew that these types of vents had a panel that could be removed for cleaning. When the panel is off, it makes an excellent place to listen. That’s what I need to do, if I can find it. Hal pictured the layout of the house in his mind so that he would know where to start looking. The kitchen is right above me and the living room is next to it. He walked through the basement looking up as if he could see through the floor. When Hal came to the tiny half bath, he stopped. Duh, you dumbass. Been stuck behind a desk too long; I forgot how to think. Hal knew that it was a standard plumbing practice for the upstairs bathroom to be directly above the basement bathroom, and he knew that Wess' office was next to the upstairs bathroom. Now that Hal knew where to start looking, he discovered that there was a wall in the way. He was reasonably sure that the ductwork he needed was on the other side of that wall, but he was absolutely positive that sound waves traveled both ways. If I can hear what's going on up there, they can hear what's going on down here Hal examined the wall and determined that it was constructed of paneling nailed to one side of a 2X4 frame and nothing more. It was more like a partition than a real wall, and he was certain that he could easily rip it apart, but not quietly. Hal tested the wall by leaning against it and then gently pushed. He was rewarded when it moved slightly at the bottom. Upon closer examination, he found that the 2X4 runner across the bottom was not anchored to the cement floor. It was simply held in place by small wooden shims. Hal quietly went to work removing the wall, being careful so he could put it back. A half-hour later, the wall was out of the way and leaning against the plumbing pipes that went to the upstairs bathroom. Hal was ready to begin searching the ductwork for the cool air return, when he heard the basement door being unlocked. He could already hear someone coming down the steps and didn't have time to do anything about the wall. Hal reached over, flushed the toilet, and then stepped out to greet whoever was coming, adjusting his clothes as he went. It was one of Spurlock's pet monkeys delivering his lunch. Hal spoke with irritation, "How long are you gonna to keep me locked-up down here? I'm losing my suntan." The pet monkey answered in a high-pitched, nasal voice. "You'll stay down here until somebody says different. If I had my way, I’d put you out of my misery right now." Hal thought it might not be smart to push this guy too much. His head was slightly pointed, his eyes were puffy horizontal slits that were spaced much too wide, and his thin lips seemed to go from ear to ear. Hal thought the guy looked like a lizard and possibly was even less intelligent than the reptile. Hal did not respond to Lizard Boy's comment and sat on the smelly old chair waiting for his food tray. However, instead of putting the tray down and leaving as expected, Lizard Boy walked around aimlessly carrying the tray. Lizard Boy was getting dangerously close to the restroom when Hal spoke. "Hey, you can go in there if you want to, but don't take my food; the stink might stick to it. You really do need an exhaust fan in there." Lizard Boy stepped away from the restroom making a face as if he actually smelled something awful. He quickly marched over to the couch and set the food tray down. Looking back over his shoulder at Hal, Lizard Boy said, "You are one raunchy, stinkin’, sonofabitch." Then he went back up the stairs loudly closing and locking the door. Hal smiled and shook his head. Yup, a lizard is smarter than that one. He ignored the food that Lizard Boy had left for him; he wanted information more than food. When he heard the basement door-lock snap into place, he sprang to his feet and hurried back into the half-bath, where the section of wall he had removed was in the process of falling. Hal silently stopped the potential disaster and leaned the wall back against the plumbing pipes being more careful this time. When he was confident that it would stay in place, he began his search for the air vent. Remembering the previous day, Hal thought about the room that Wess was using for an office. When he’d been behind Wess’ desk and unplugged the power strip from the wall, he’d been standing on the cool air return vent. That wall would have been a divider between rooms and not a load-bearing wall; therefore, there would be no support for it in the basement. Hal figured that he needed to concentrate on the ductwork that was not close to supports. For a moment, Hal was intimidated by the complex maze of sheet metal that seemed to run in all directions, but only for a moment. The silence of the basement was broken by the sound of footsteps above him. Almost every step this person took caused a squeak in the hardwood floor over Hal's head. The squeaking stopped and he thought he could hear muffled voices; talking, no, maybe laughter. In the dim light, Hal carefully examined the ductwork and found it necessary to use his hands to locate the cleaning door. When he found it, the cleaning door was a 5"X7" flap that sat securely in a groove on the bottom edge and was held in place at the top with a single screw. Hal needed a screwdriver. Without hesitation, he stuck his hand into his pants pocket to retrieve whenever change was there. Unfortunately, he found only three quarters and one nickel but nothing thin enough to fit the slot in the screw. Hal stuffed the coins back into his pocket and headed for the food tray hoping to find metal eating utensils. It didn't take Hal long to discover that the only thing they had provided was a large stainless steel spoon. Hal smiled, I guess they don't trust me. He took the spoon back to the screw and tried the handle first, but due to the decorative end, it wouldn't go into the slot. Turning the spoon around, Hal found that it would fit in the slot but it was too rounded to loosen the screw. Why can't it be easy, just this once Hal stood staring at the spoon: his mind racing with ideas. Maybe I should wait until the next meal and see if they give me something different. He didn't want to wait; his excuse for being there was very time limited. He slid the spoon into the center bib pocket of the overalls and noticed the brass colored wire latches on the ends of the shoulder straps. Unhooking the right side, he tested it for strength and found that it was more substantial than just wire. I'll be damned: comfortable and functional. Turning his attention to the screw, Hal found that by standing on his tiptoes, he could reach the screw without undressing. Bending the clasp slightly, the screw came loose with a small pop and after one round he could take it the rest of the way out with his fingers. Being very quiet, he lowered the trap door in time to hear the end of a conversation. "Damnit Jinks, can you copy that signature or not?" "Yeah, no problem; just let me practice it a few times." Hal recognized the first voice as belonging to Spurlock and it was undoubtedly Jinks that had answered. He just didn't understand the meaning of what he’d heard. Quantico, Virginia Thompson sat at his desk reading the latest intelligence reports and stewing about the lack of information on Daniel Wess. Nobody creates a well-armed militia and a 10,000-acre compound without a damn good reason. There was a quick knock on the door and it immediately burst open without waiting for him to respond. The cute little agent with the bouncing ponytail rushed in and handed him a sheet of paper. Without speaking, she quickly left his office closing the door behind her. Thompson had given his personal secretary, Otillia, the day off and Agent Ponytail was filling in. Thompson was surprised at the young agent's actions until he looked at the paper she’d handed him. It was a fax from Thompson's boss, FBI Director Heller in Washington DC. Thompson quickly read the fax, and then reread it slowly and carefully. There was one small section that he had to read the third time before he was sure he hadn’t made a mistake. We have been advised of a nuclear threat to the U.S. from within our borders. The threat comes from Daniel Wess Jr. and the JFV group. If we do not meet their demands within 72 hours, the consequences are potentially catastrophic. As you know, it is the policy of this administration to never negotiate with terrorists under any circumstances. Thompson leaned back in his chair completely stunned. A homegrown terrorist! He couldn't imagine what demands Wess would make; he already had more than most. Another spoiled rich kid with too much free time. He forced himself to think like a FBI agent; 72 hours is not much time and the damn clock is ticking. Instead of trying to figure out what the demands might be, I need to know if Wess actually has access to nuclear weapons. Thompson was also aware that the situation would soon turn into something similar to a circus because of the other departments that would ultimately become involved. That new DHS, (Department of Homeland Security), the NSA (National Security Agency), the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), plus God only knows how many more knuckleheads, will all be getting in the FBI's way. And God help us if the media gets wind of this. Agent Thompson jumped to his feet, took two quick steps, and jerked his office door open. His entire staff was standing there waiting for their orders, and he knew that the contents of the fax was already known by all. He began barking orders and soon had all of his agents doing his bidding. Thompson asked, "What's the latest word from Agent Hackney?" A young man wearing a dark blue suit and typing furiously answered without missing a beat. "Agent Hackney has not transmitted in the last 7 hours, 17 minutes, but he is still in the house." Thompson grimaced. Agent Hackney is a good agent and a friend, but damn-it-to-hell, I don't have time to worry about just one guy. If it's true that Wess has got himself a nuke, there might be thousands of lives at stake. "Okay, stay on top of it and keep me posted." Without another word, he went into his office and shut the door. Going to his desk, Thompson placed a call to the FBI headquarters in New York City. "Agent Duncan speaking." "Hey Donuts; how are you? This is Alex Thompson at Quantico." Agent Howard Duncan responded in a friendly tone. "I know who you are without you telling me. You are the only one with the balls to call me Donuts." Thompson was grinning as he spoke. "You do remember that back in high school I started-out calling you Howie? You didn't like it and that’s why I started calling you Donuts." "Yeah, I remember. I also remember that the only time you call me is when you want something." Thompson chuckled, "Not this time my friend. This time I'm going to do you a favor." A short laugh. "That'll be the day." Thompson's voice changed from friendly to deadly serious. "I want you to pick up Daniel Wess Jr." He outlined the case for Agent Duncan and then got the response he was expecting. "Oh hell yeah; we'll get him." Cloverport, KY Leo had watched the uninvited FBI agents until they were out of sight and then returned to his deck where he sat staring at the floating building that was gently rocking in the water. Apparently, nobody had been back to the building since the arrival of the three houseboats, two of which were still secured to the outside of the building. Coming from Arizona, houseboats were something that Leo knew little about but he thought they were rather expensive. I’m sure they would be too costly to be left unattended for very long, but nobody seems to be worried about these. Leo gazed passed the building at the river. He was mentally trying to put all the pieces together so that it made sense, but he wasn't making much progress. Daniel Wess: upscale New York City – Russell Spurlock: lower west side of Chicago – Buddy Jinks: Topeka Kansas. An unlikely threesome. How did it happen? What's the link? The more Leo thought about it, the more frustrated he became. The pieces of the puzzle that he did have wouldn't fit together because of the pieces he didn't have. He was convinced that some of the pieces he needed could be found at the Goshen Bridge. He felt confident that there was no oil, gold, or precious metals and that meant the only thing out there worth protecting would be secrets. Leo got to his feet. He had an idea and the determination to see it through to the end, regardless of where that might be. He went into the house going straight through to the spare bedroom that he used for storage. Leo searched through boxes until he found what he was looking for: a credit card. It’s the one he’d received in the mail almost a year ago and had never activated. He’d gotten it in case of an emergency and was convinced this situation qualified. If I survive, I’ll figure out some way to pay and if I don’t... Checking the expiration date, Leo saw that it was still good and immediately called the toll-free number. *** Pulling out of his driveway, Leo turned right onto Main Street, and then noticed the city cop behind him. I’m positive there wasn’t a single vehicle in sight when I left my driveway, and all of a sudden, here’s Charlie the make believe cop on my ass. Leo watched his speed carefully for three blocks and then turned left onto SR-105, and so did the city cop. Leo knew that the cop was dogging him, but didn't care because it wasn't far to the city limits and the cop would have to stop there. It was still fresh in Leo's memory that he’d pissed off the chief of police, and Leo expected to be hassled because of it. Leo passed the city limit sign thinking the cop would stop there, but he didn't. Leo was planning to turn right onto Highway 60, but changed his mind. He didn't want the cop to know where he was going or why. I’ll just play with the dumbass for a while. Another mile and the cop was still behind him so Leo turned onto a gravel road that was handy; so did the cop. Leo continued on to the second driveway where he turned around and headed back to SR-105; so did the cop. At first, Leo had thought it was funny, but now it was becoming an annoyance, and his anger was building. He turned right onto SR-105 and considered trying to outrun the asshole, but thought better of it. Leo remembered how the cop had been bragging about how the city had purchased an old state police car with the 460cid interceptor engine. The cop had him beat on horsepower, but he did have something that the city cop didn't; four wheel drive. A tight smile formed on Leo's lips. Leo turned right onto SR-992; so did the cop. Several miles later, Leo turned left onto a tiny dirt road; so did the cop. A half-mile further, the dirt road abruptly ended near the entrance to the long ago abandoned Victoria Coal Mine. Leo kept going but the cop did not. It took an exceptionally good four-wheel drive vehicle and an excellent driver to make it all the way through to County Road 1700. Leo was confident that he had the vehicle but was not as sure about the skill of the driver. Nevertheless, with Leo's limited skill and an abundance of luck he did make it all the way and got there without causing major damage to the classic pickup. He was feeling proud, smug, even a little cocky, until he looked at his watch. Leo had gotten so engrossed in his personal battle with the city cop, that he had lost sight of the true agenda. Some of the business places he needed to visit would be closed for the lunch hour; he would go home and wait. *** When Leo turned into his driveway, the city cop was parked across the street waiting for him to return. Upon seeing him, Leo's temper flared. He left his pickup in the driveway and walked over to confront the small town cop. "Why are you dogging me?" The chief of police took a drag from his cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then spoke with smoke coming out of his mouth and nose. "Because I can." His smartass attitude only made matters worse and Leo spoke in a threatening tone. "Does the Mayor and City Council know that you are taking the patrol car out of town?" With a self-assured shit-eating grin the cop answered, "Yeah. The FBI stopped by City Hall this morning and asked for a little cooperation." Okay, so a bluff won't work. Let's try a little play-acting. "Oh-my-god! Are you talking about my nephews? Two guys in cheep suits and dark sunglasses driving a black Lincoln with tinted windows. Let me guess; they flipped an ID at you so fast that you couldn't possibly read it, said they were FBI, and then told you to watch me." Leo squatted beside the police car and lowered his head as if in shame. Shaking his head slowly Leo said, "They told me they were going to have some fun; but I had no idea… I am sorry, truly sorry.” Leo lowered his voice and spoke quietly as if to himself. “Those boys just never grew up; still pulling stupid high school pranks.” Raising his head and his voice, Leo addressed the cop. “Again, I am truly sorry and you can be sure I will tell their mother about this." Leo stood on the edge of the street watching the city cop drive away. He really is a dumbass; or maybe my acting skills have improved. Shaking his head, no, he's just a dumbass. Leo walked back to his pickup feeling a small measure of satisfaction. *** Leo unlocked his front door and already had one foot inside when he heard the sweet sound of a high-performance engine enter his driveway. He knew who it was before turning around; there was only one car in town that sounded like that. Leo limped back to the edge of his driveway to meet his guest. Despite the young man's smartass cocky attitude, Leo liked him. There was something vaguely familiar about him and Leo figured that Stephen O'Malley reminded him of someone he’d known as a teen. Before Leo got to the driveway, Stephen O'Malley had already shut the car off and was standing beside it. The young man was wearing a white sleeveless tee shirt, faded blue jeans, and brown leather sandals. Stephen was the first to speak. "Mr. Willard, we need to talk." Leo paused for a moment and studied the young man. He could see nothing about Stephen O'Malley that caused him to feel threatened or uneasy in any way. He was curious, but not threatened. After the morning he'd had, and with his mind dead set on what he was going to do next, Leo needed to think about something else for a while. The young man would be a distraction to give his brain a much needed break. "Okay, let's go around to the deck. Will you join me in some ice tea?" Leo asked as he led the way. Hearing no response, Leo waited until they were on the deck. "Have a seat. What about the tea?" Stephen O'Malley didn't look cocky or arrogant or smug as before. This time Leo thought he looked uncomfortable, shy, more like a little boy. "Okay." Leo unlocked the back door and disappeared inside leaving Stephen O’Malley alone on the deck. Returning a few minutes later with two glasses of ice tea, Leo found the young man pacing nervously. Handing the young man his drink, Leo said, "So, Stephen, what do you want to talk about?" "Just call me Steve, please." At first, Leo thought Steve's nervousness was comical, but now his gut was telling him that this was something serious. "Okay Steve. Have a seat and tell me what's going on." Steve sat on a wooden deck chair with his forearms resting on his legs and with both large hands wrapped around the glass of tea. Without looking up he said, "First, I want to apologize for my earlier behavior; too much TV I guess." Leo was starting to like this kid. "No problem, don't worry about it." Steve continued, "It's just that I need to talk to Hal Hackney and everybody lies to me about him. I know he's here; someplace around here anyway." "What do you need to see him about?" Leo asked. Steve dropped his head shaking it slowly. "No disrespect, but it's personal." Leo couldn't imagine what personal thing this young man could need to talk to Hal about, but he was curious. "How much do you know about Hal Hackney?" Steve shrugged, "A lot, in some ways, and not much in others." Confused Leo asked, "What does that mean?" "I don't know. Like, I know he's 51 years old and that he does computer work for the FBI, but I don't know what his favorite food is, or what kind of books and movies he likes." Leo didn't understand why this young man would be interested in Hal's personal life, but for everyone's safety, Steve needed to back off. Leo had to convince him to stay out of the way and stop asking questions about Hal. "You know that Agent Hackney and I worked a case together a few years back and you know that now he's got a desk job, but do you think it's possible that he might still do some field work occasionally." Leo watched Steve's face gradually light up with understanding. "You mean he's working undercover?" Steve asked. "Grandpa was right; he said I should just talk to you." As an afterthought he added, "He's a cop." Leo smiled. So that’s how the kid got so much information about me. Shaking his head, Leo said, "I didn't say...” Leo saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw a black SUV going across his property toward the white building. The vehicle's windows were tinted so that he couldn't see inside and had to wait until people got out before he knew how many there were. Leo momentarily forgot about Steve as he watched two men carry a large red plastic box into the building. The two men repeated this action until a total of four red plastic boxes were delivered. Then the two men got into the SUV and drove away. "What's the bio-hazard stuff all about?" Steve asked. Leo's skin crawled up his back. The unexpected biohazard containers only served to spur him on and strengthen his resolve. He looked at his watch and saw that it was already 12:40 PM; he needed to go. There was no way of knowing how difficult it was going to be to find everything that he needed. There was one item on the list that had him worried, and it was crucial. Leo hated to do it, but he had to put Steve off for now so he would have time to get everything he needed. Reaching into his pocket, Leo took out his cell phone, flipped it open, and said, "Willard." He waited a few seconds pretending to listen, and then said, "Can it wait? I'm busy right now." Leo pretended to listen, and then said, "Okay, I'm on my way." He snapped the cell phone closed, shoved it into his pocket, and then spoke to Steve. "I'm sorry Steve, but I have to go. Can we continue this later?" Steve stood. "Sure, no biggie." *** When Leo arrived in Owensboro, he found a phonebook and went to the Yellow Pages. He’d been searching by phone for nearly an hour and was considering moving on to a different city. In desperation, he tried one last call to the local RadioShack but had no hope of them actually having the item in stock. When the sales clerk answered and he told her what he wanted, Leo was surprised when she put him on hold. "This is the manager. How may I help you?" Leo explained what he was looking for and the store manager said he thought there was one in the back room, if he could find it. Forty-five minutes later, Leo walked out of RadioShack with the item he needed. Across the highway was a giant army surplus store where he found everything else he was looking for, plus things he didn't know were needed until he saw them. Leo made the 65-mile trip home with several shopping bags flapping in the back of his pickup. If these guys want to play army, I'll show them what I learned in Vietnam. Well, some of it anyway. Quantico Same day 3:30PM Special Agent Alex Thompson was in the computer lab keeping an eye on the young agents and monitoring their progress. "Excuse me, Agent Thompson sir; there is someone here to see you." The cute young agent with the bouncing ponytail was standing two paces behind Thompson. Beside her stood a man that Thompson knew well, but didn't especially like. Asa Carmichael, Chairperson of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, (NRC). Every time Thompson saw Asa Carmichael, he thought of Boss Hogg in the 1970s TV show, The Dukes of Hazard. Asa Carmichael was short, round, mostly bald, chewed on unlit cigars, and wore fancy cowboy boots with expensive tailored suits; just like Boss Hogg. Standing beside Carmichael, wearing a permanent scowl, was somebody that Thompson liked even less, Cloyd Wilkerson, the director of the National Security Agency, (NSA). Wilkerson was 70-something, with a full head of silver hair, manicured top to bottom, and was married to a 30-something ex-model. Wilkerson thought himself to be a ladies' man, as well as the smartest man on the planet; Thompson disagreed on both counts. Agent Ponytail was young but perceptive, and feeling the tension, excused herself without comment. So, here it is; the circus begins. Thompson waited a moment so his agent could make her get-away before speaking. Addressing his visitors, Thompson said, "Carmichael, Wilkerson; what can I do for you?" Cloyd Wilkerson jerked his head sideways indicating Asa Carmichael then leaned forward and spoke quietly. "This idiot has got something to tell you." Carmichael shot a look of contempt at Wilkerson and then he too spoke quietly to Agent Thompson. "I am certain that you are aware that I am the chairperson of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and the function of the NRC is to ensure the safety of the citizens…" Wilkerson interrupted and angrily spat his words at the younger man. "Lose the speech Carmichael, and just say it." Carmichael shifted his weight from side to side and beads of sweat covered his forehead. He was obviously uneasy about what he had to say. "About two hours ago, a well-armed paramilitary group attacked the Yucca Mountain nuclear disposal site and got away with twenty, 4-pound cakes of RX11-3." Thompson made no attempt to be quiet. "What! Two hours ago! Why the hell am I just now being told? And what is RX11-3?" Carmichael was trying to stay calm enough to speak quietly, but was quickly losing that particular battle. "You are just now being told because there was only one survivor at the site. And he only lived long enough to call 911, but not long enough to even say one goddamn word. Thank God his phone had GPS or we might not know yet." The volume and pitch of his voice had risen throughout. This information allowed Thompson cool off some, but not a lot. With impatience in his voice Thompson said, "OK, OK; so what kind of stuff are we talking about?" Wilkerson couldn't stand there saying nothing any longer. "Loose nukes. That's what we're talking about. This incompetent fool...” Thompson gave Wilkerson a look that could have frosted the old man’s glasses, if he’d been wearing any. "Shut the hell up for a second Cloyd." Looking back at Carmichael, Thompson waited for the chubby man to continue. Carmichael glanced nervously at Wilkerson and then focused on Thompson. "Like I said, RX11-3. It's a very fine powder made of lethal radioactive materials. We formulated it as an experiment to find out how difficult it would be for a terrorist to make it." Thompson stood frozen for a moment thinking, Why would they need to make this shit when we make it for them? Then he looked at Wilkerson and asked, "Is that enough to make a dirty bomb?" Cloyd Wilkerson momentarily forgot that he’d been told to ‘shut the hell up’ and with his arms folded across his chest spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh yeah. A really, really, big one." Thompson glanced up at the 72-inch screen that was displaying Wess' compound and a feeling similar to seasickness swept over him. New York City FBI headquarters After Agent Thompson’s call, Agent Howard Duncan had assigned the Daniel Wess Jr. case to his best team: Agents Sandra Cox and Tony Beal. They were young, but strong as a team. More importantly, they were both determined to win regardless of the assignment or the odds. At that moment however, Agent Duncan couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment with the agents because they were reporting in without Wess in custody. Thirty-year-old Agent Sandra Cox was wearing a dark power suit today, same as every day, and her self-confidence seemed to ooze from every pore. Although she was quite attractive, Agent Cox had unconsciously made herself appear to be off limits to men. In her usual take-charge way, she was the first to speak. "It seems that Mr. Wess has gone underground. He's not at home and the neighbors say they haven't seen him for a few days and it’s the same story at his office." Agent Tony Beal was different from the other agents in New York because at 31, he was the only male agent that had never been married. He was overjoyed when he'd gotten Sandra Cox for his partner and was always happy for her to take the lead. He enjoyed following behind her because, in his opinion, the view from that position was absolutely fantastic. The mandatory sensitivity training that he’d taken had taught him not to get caught looking and never say anything that might be taken the wrong way. Agent Beal took over the oral report. "We checked all commercial and private flights leaving New York's air space and Wess has not booked a flight. We went ahead and canceled his passport in case we missed something." Agent Cox seemed to automatically take back control of the conversation. "We learned that Wess and his girlfriend, Ms. Sharon Childs, recently broke up and we are attempting to locate her. Ms. Childs moved out of a condo that she was sharing with Wess without leaving a forwarding address. Ms. Childs also quit her job as CEO of Wess’ company and it appears that she is attempting to cut all ties with Wess. So far, Ms. Childs has not surfaced, but she will." Agent Duncan leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head gazing toward the ceiling and remained in that position for several moments. Sometimes he did this to make his agents nervous but this time he really was thinking. Finally, Agent Duncan said, "Sounds like you're on the right track, but I don't want to see you in here again until you have Wess or the girlfriend with you." Duncan sat up and began moving papers around on his desk. "Now, go do your job." Lucas Cave The Cross brothers Billy had just ended his two-hour shift and Steve was taking over. Besides being the youngest, Billy was also the most impatient and the most outspoken. Talking to Steve, Billy said, "Why can't I just pop old Chrome Dome now? We've been here all day and ain't seen nothin'." Steve spoke in almost a fatherly way. "Because then we might never know why they burned-out Uncle Tobias and Aunt May." Sounding indignant, Billy said, "Hell, we might never find out anyways." Without taking his eyes away from the house, Steve said, "Yeah, maybe." In his mind, Steve was reliving the summer he’d spent in that same spot watching Kayla Bradley sunbathing. She was three years older and had been a graduating high school senior that spring with plans for college in the fall. Determined to look her best, without tan lines, Kayla lay out on a blanket completely nude without ever knowing that she was being watched. Steve had not seen her again until a few weeks earlier when she attended her dad’s funeral. He was stunned at how much she’d changed in those ten short years. Kayla had been a voluptuous beauty but now she was overweight and had four kids. Cloverport Same-day 4:30 PM When Leo got home, it took three trips to carry everything he’d purchased into the house. He’d intended to take it all out to the deck to work on it but when he looked out the kitchen window, he changed his mind. The floating building was alive with people hurrying here and there. Leo watched the garage-type door on the end raise and the houseboat that had been kept inside was backed out and headed up the river toward Louisville. Within minutes, one of the small houseboats that had been tied to the outside of the building was driven inside and the door immediately came down behind it. Leo thought it would be best to do his work in the kitchen where he could see but not be seen. Less than a half-hour after the houseboat had gone in, it came out and went downstream toward the Mississippi River. Almost immediately, the last remaining houseboat was taken inside. In less than a half-hour, it came back out and headed downstream following the one before it. Shortly after the last houseboat was gone, six men came out of the building, climbed into two SUVs and left. Leo wondered what was going on but he quickly dismissed it. His packing was nearly finished and he had more important things to think about. FBI headquarters, New York City 4:30 PM Agents Cox and Beal entered the FBI building with Sharon Kay Childs walking between them. It felt like it had been a long day and he was tired but Agent Beal sensed that it was a long way from being over. Even as tired as he was, Agent Beal couldn't help noticing the modest cleavage revealed by the attractive young woman walking between him and his partner. Both women noticed him noticing and had opposite feelings about it: Agent Cox found it irritating while Sharon Kay found it amusing. In the short time that Sharon Kay had been on her own away from Wess, she’d happily discovered that apparently most men found her attractive. She was no longer a geek, a joke, or somebody to pity and feel sorry for; she was an attractive woman, a desirable woman, and she liked it. She’d also discovered that, unlike Fort Edwards, in the city, being smart was a good thing and she liked that too. The three of them entered interrogation room 2 and sat at the table in the moderately comfortable chairs. Agent Beal picked up the pad of paper that had been left on the table, took a pen from his pocket, and began asking questions. After about 20 minutes, Agent Sandra Cox took over the questioning asking basically the same questions but in a completely different way. In less than one hour, both agents were convinced that Ms. Childs honestly didn't know anything about what Wess was doing or where he could be found. In fact, the agents were convinced that Wess’ secret life is what had caused the couple’s break-up. After reporting their conclusions to Agent Duncan, Ms. Sharon Kay Childs was released. Agents Cox and Beal dropped Sharon Kay off in front of the building where her small apartment was located before resuming the hunt for Daniel Wess. Quantico, Virginia 4:45 PM Special Agent Thompson was in his office going over the reports of the Yucca Mountain tragedy. He needed to know how this happened so it could be prevented from ever happening again. There had to be a flaw in the security system surrounding that installation. Thompson had been studying the incident reports for half-hour when his office door suddenly opened and his private secretary, Otillia, rushed in. Without speaking, she placed a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him and quickly walked out closing the door. He looked at her fondly. Otillia must really be dedicated to come in on her day off. I’ll make it up to her. Why didn’t she speak? Thompson was puzzled by Otillia’s odd behavior. She’d opened the door without knocking and then rushed out without speaking. He wondered if she might be upset with him about something until he looked at what she’d brought. The paper was a printout of an e-mail that had been sent from FBI Director Shaw's office in Washington D.C. Thompson was reaching for his reading glasses when his cell phone vibrated. Looking at the caller ID, Thompson was surprised to see the call was also from Director Shaw. Opening the phone, he said, "Thompson." The stern voice of his boss came out of the tiny speaker beside his ear. "Did you get the email I sent?" "Yes sir, I was just about to read it." "Okay, read it, then fix it." Before Thompson could reply, the connection was broken and his mind was racing to catch up. His boss was always short with him but he’d never been this short before. Thompson closed his phone and then put his reading glasses on. He read through the paper once and understood why his boss was so upset. Then he had to read through it a second time before he could get his own mind wrapped around it. Thompson dropped the paper onto his desk and took his reading glasses off placing them on top of the paper. He leaned back in his chair lacing his fingers behind his head thinking. A moment later, he reversed the whole process to re-read the letter and not a single word had changed. This is an amendment to the first letter. In addition to the president and vice president standing trial for the 9/11/01 attack on the World Trade Center, I also require $60 billion in compensation. If my demands are not met in full within 72 hours, I will have no choice but to carry out a nuclear attack within the U.S. borders. I'm certain that you know by now I'm not bluffing. Let us know your decision by announcing it at a televised news conference. We will be watching television and eagerly awaiting the good news. JFV Under new management Thompson pushed the intercom button and called his personal secretary. "Otillia, would you come in here please." Almost immediately, Thompson’s office door opened and his secretary stood in front of his desk ready to do his bidding. Thompson took a deep breath and then told her what he wanted. Otillia looked at her boss as if he might be insane. Raising one eyebrow she asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Yeah, I'm sure." Thompson looked at his watch and saw that it was 5:05 PM. "And I want them here in my office no later than 7:00 PM today. Tell them all it's a matter of national security. And go ahead and invite my boss too." Surprised, Otillia looked up from her notepad. "You mean Director Shaw?" Thompson nodded his head and spoke grimly. "Yeah, that's the one." 7:00 PM FBI Special Agent Alex Thompson sat behind his desk studying the faces of the men gathered in his office. In front of him were some of the most powerful men in the country: General Barnes, A.I., (Army Intelligence), Secretary Michael Devers, DHS, (Departmental of Homeland Security), Randall Shuler, DIA, (Defense Intelligence Agency), Cloyd Wilkerson, NSA, (National Security Agency), Thomas Slate, CIA, (Central Intelligence Agency), and Galen Sheppard, DEA, (Drug Enforcement Agency). An impressive group, by anyone's standards and the only one missing was FBI Director Shaw. As Thompson had expected, Shaw had ignored the invitation. Thompson knew that Shaw didn't want to know anything about it in case they failed. That way his ass would be covered by deniability when it was time for heads to roll. Thompson also knew that Director Shaw would automatically take the credit if they happen to be successful. Agent Thompson stood and tapped on his desk with a paperweight to get everyone's attention. "I'm certain that you all know why you're here and I want…" "I don't." The interruption came from DEA Director Galen Sheppard. "I know about the dirty bomb threat, but I don't know what I can do to help. We are not set up to handle this sort of thing." Thompson forced a smile. "Give me a minute, Galen, and I'll explain. We have got to all work together on this. I mean cut the bureaucracy crap, don't worry about politics, and don't worry about who gets the credit. If this shit happens, we will all have to share the blame." DIA director, Randall Shuler stood and addressed the room. "Gentlemen, we are talking about a dirty bomb here, not a real nuke. Even if they use all twenty pounds of that radioactive junk, and detonate it in Times Square, the casualties would be minimal; maybe 200 people at most." The 70-year-old playboy, Cloyd Wilkerson, surprised everyone when he jumped to his feet and spoke angrily. "That's probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard. There might be only 200 people killed from the initial blast, but then tens of thousands will die later from the effects of radiation exposure. And besides that, it would also create several square miles of wasteland unfit for people, or anything else to live in, for many generations." Thompson knew that Wilkerson owned a significant amount of real estate all across the eastern seaboard and wasn’t surprised by his wasteland theory. Thompson quickly intervened hoping to regain control over the meeting before it got personal; he knew if that happened there would be no cooperation between the various agencies. "Gentleman please; the American people need our help, all of us. That's what we're here for. Mr. Sheppard, to answer your question, the DEA has the type of aircraft we need and the people trained to operate it. I'm talking about the remote controlled glider capable of silently getting over the target area. General Barnes, the Army has the best long-range sniper teams in the world that can parachute out of those planes. We need the two best teams and you know who and where they are. Mr. Slate, the CIA has the best covert operations program in the world and databases second to none." Thompson knew that he was laying it on pretty thick, but he also knew that these assholes were too self absorbed to notice. "Mr. Shuler, the DIA has the best, the most well-trained, nuclear bomb technicians anywhere, and if we can find it in time, we will definitely need the very best. Mr. Devers, the Department of Homeland Security is probably the least well-liked department in the country. The American people, and most of the rest of the world, see DHS as a joke. You can be involved with this or opt out as you wish. I will tell you this much; if you are involved, and we are successful, it will help your image. If you are not involved, and we fail, the citizens will make sure you share the blame anyway." Michael Devers wanted desperately to defend his department, but he couldn't; everything Thompson had said was true. The world would never forget or forgive the way FEMA had failed New Orleans after hurricane Katrina. Devers fidgeted in the silence for a moment before he realized everyone was waiting for him to say something. "OK, I'm in." That left only Cloyd Wilkerson and the NSA. For the good of the country, Thompson had to push his personal feelings aside and include Wilkerson. "Cloyd, I know that we’ve had our differences in the past and that we are not on the best of terms. But I also know that you, and the National Security Agency, have a handle on, no, more like you have a grip on domestic terrorism. If anybody knows what this JFV group is up to, it would be you and your people." Wilkerson sat on the metal folding chair with his legs crossed at the knee, arms folded over his chest, his head nodding approval, and with his face covered in a smug grin. Thompson had to focus elsewhere to stop his churning stomach, and he again addressed the room. "I've got an undercover agent on site and he has already given us access to the JFV computer. Even more important…" Unwilling to leave well-enough alone, Wilkerson said, "We need to put our heads together and make a plan." Thompson disliked being interrupted almost as much as he disliked Cloyd Wilkerson and it could be heard in his voice. "I already have a plan; my man, my plan." Wilkerson uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Well excuse me, Mr. FBI. What is your plan?" Thompson spent the next hour going over his idea and troubleshooting possible problems. When he was all done, Thompson said, "We are on a timeline gentleman, we have to have our people in place before daylight." The Cross brothers, Lucas Cave June 24, 1:05 AM Jimmy was only halfway through his four-hour shift and was sleepy. He hadn’t seen anything all night and knew that most of his problem was due to boredom. He was beginning to think along the same lines as Billy. Maybe we are wasting our time. Maybe Billy is right and we might not ever find out why Uncle Tobias was burned- out. The only thing Jimmy knew for sure was that every few minutes he had to rapidly blink his eyes in an attempt to stay awake. This time when Jimmy did his blinking exercise, he also rolled his eyes around in their sockets and for a fraction of a second, he thought he detected movement. It was as if a surge of electricity shot through his entire self and he was instantly wide-awake and alert. Jimmy focused his attention skyward and a few moments later, he saw something in the night sky illuminated by a partial moon. Jimmy called to his brothers. "Hey Steve, Billy, you guys need to see this." Steve and Billy had been resting but neither was asleep. Steve had been thinking about Kayla Bradley and how much she’d changed and Billy’s mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge for his Uncle Tobias. Without sleep fogged minds to slow them down, Steve and Billy were almost instantly beside their brother. Together, the three Cross brothers watched as four men silently descended toward the earth dangling from parachutes. Jimmy quietly mumbled, “I know damn good and well I wasn’t sleepin’.” Steve and Billy turned to see their brother looking down at his feet and slowly shaking his head. Sounding concerned, Steve asked, “What’s wrong?” Jimmy’s answer surprised them. “No lights and no sound.” He raised his eyes to meet his brother’s. “There wasn’t no airplane.” While the four men were still dangling in the night sky, Billy said, "I'll check it out." *** Almost two hours later, Billy was back and as he entered the section of Lucas Cave where his brothers were waiting, Billy called out, "Hey guys it's just me." Steve and Jimmy pointed their lights and saw Billy wearing a black ninja outfit and caring a rifle with a scope unlike anything they’d ever seen. Sounding relieved Steve said, "It's a damn good thing we knowed who was coming before we seen that outfit headin’ our way. I wouldn't want to be the one to explain to mama why we shot her baby.” Steve would never admit it, but he’d been uncomfortable with the length of time Billy had been gone. Ignoring Steve’s comment Billy handed the rifle to Steve saying, "Hey man; look through that scope, it'll blow your mind. All I wanted was this ninja outfit until I seen that rifle." Steve knew what it was from pictures he’d seen in magazines. The rifle was a M25 sniper rifle used by the US Special Forces and it was equipped with a night vision scope. More importantly, it was the Cadillac of night vision scopes: a D760, the absolute best of the best. This was something far superior to anything that Steve had even dreamed about having because it cost as much as a new car. With this, he could keep his entire family well stocked with fresh venison and not worry about the game warden seeing his spotlight because he wouldn’t need one. Steve shouldered the weapon and looked through the scope. "Son-of-a-bitch," he whispered. Handing the rifle back to Billy, Steve said, "I'll be back." Jimmy didn't take the time to look and said, "Me too," and followed Steve out of the cave. He didn’t know what the weapon was, but Jimmy did know his brother, and he’d never seen Steve this excited about a gun. Jimmy was sure that he wanted one too. Leo on Tar Springs Road June 24, 4:30 AM This was the beginning of day 3 since Hal's disappearance and Leo was frustrated because he was just sitting there doing nothing. He’d navigated the treacherous Tar Springs Road toward the Goshen Bridge by moonlight and had only caused minor damage to his classic pickup. Now he was parked near the same place as before only this time he’d come prepared, hopefully. At this point, there was nothing left for him to do except wait for daylight and hope that his friend was still alive. Leo was dressed in a complete camouflage outfit including hood and face paint. The shiny new metal detector that he’d purchased at RadioShack was incased in the leg cut from a pair of camouflage pants. There were 24 spray cans of WD-40 and an assortment of other items that he might need, all neatly tucked away in a camouflage backpack. The only weapons he carried was his handgun and knife leaving both hands free to operate the metal detector. Although he had no firsthand experience in locating landmines, he had done extensive online research and found stories told by other Vietnam vets. Leo was convinced that the metal detector would either locate a Bouncing Betty, or set it off. He took some comfort in the belief that if he did accidentally set one off, he’d never know it. By doing research, he’d learned that these landmines were usually constructed with plastic explosives inside of a plastic container, but the detonation switches were metal. Tripwires, on the other hand, were a completely different threat. Tripwires were almost always made with a very fine wire, but the VC had also constructed tripwires with clear monofilament fishing line. That's what the WD-40 was for; it would help make monofilament line more visible. In sunlight, monofilament line would take on the colors of the rainbow when sprayed with oil. When it was finally light enough to see the meter on the metal detector, Leo's journey to the locked gate, and hopefully some answers, began. Quietly getting out of his pickup, Leo dropped a penny and tested the metal detector to be sure the meter worked and the volume was off. He didn't want a beeping sound to announce his whereabouts. Leo started to walk away but remembering the thing Spurlock had done with the penny, he bent over, picked the penny up and shoved it into his pocket. I think I don’t believe in that stuff, but I’m not dying to find out for sure. Leo began the long slow climb up the hill, deliberately choosing the most difficult path. One of the lessons he’d learned in Vietnam was to never take the easy route; that was where the booby-traps would most likely be. That was also a long time ago when he’d been younger and before he had a .22 caliber bullet rubbing against his spine. It was much more difficult now. Before each step, Leo held a can of WD-40 over his head and sprayed a mist in front of him watching for a monofilament tripwire to show itself. Then he would squat and repeat the process looking for a lower one. Next, while carefully watching the meter, he would wave the metal detector over the next spot he intended to put his foot. This had to be done very carefully because a Bouncing Betty landmine had three small metal spikes protruding about 1 inch above the ground. If the metal detector made contact with these spikes, it would detonate the landmine and he would be dead. Hopefully, the metal detector would also pick up a tripwire made of wire. So far, so good. One hour later The sun was getting higher and so was the temperature. As Leo reached the top of a rock cliff, he realized that he would have to stop and make some adjustments. He was beginning to seriously overheat. Although Leo was accustomed to the higher temperatures of the Arizona desert, he was not used to the higher humidity of Kentucky's summer weather. The camouflage hood that was concealing Leo's silver/gray hair so well had to go. Fortunately, he had more face paint in the backpack and could use that on his hair. While applying the face paint, Leo looked at his surroundings and realized that he was 200 yards farther from the old road than on his previous visit. Is that good or bad? He was standing on a small plateau, 30-feet wide and 75-feet long with a 100-foot drop on each end. To make it even more interesting, it was completely covered with giant blackberry bushes. Except for one game trail, there appeared to be no way around or through the briar patch. Leo looked back the way he had come. The trail was marked so he could safely go back, but he would have to go back at least 500-yards to find a way around the blackberry patch. I don't think so. When Leo was finished coloring his hair, he carefully scouted the briar-covered plateau for another way to get passed it without using the trail; there was none. Damn the bad luck. He had no choice so he started through the blackberry patch by means of the trail, but used extreme caution. Leo visually inspected the ground for any unusual disturbance. Finding no reason for concern, he sprayed a mist of WD-40 holding the can above his head. Seeing nothing, he squatted, released another misty cloud of oil, and watched it fall to the ground. Then, starting at waist-high and going down in a circular motion, he slowly passed the metal detector over the spot where his foot would go next. After doing all of that, Leo could take only one single step, and then had to start the entire process over in preparation for the next step. Seven steps later, near halfway, Leo watched the oily mist display colors in the sunlight as it fell on a monofilament line that had been stretched across the path. He froze, literally. Leo stopped all movement and a chill started at the base of his skull and traveled his spine radiating throughout his entire body. Leo had not felt fear like that since Vietnam and it took a moment before he could think. The line was at chest-high level and not more than 18 inches in front of him. Leo didn't want to move any part of his body, but knew he had to. He shouldered the metal detector by its strap so that he would have both hands free and reached for a pocket where he kept a small pair of scissors. That was another trick he’d learned while in Vietnam; scissors work better than a knife for cutting monofilament tripwires. Using one finger, Leo gently tested the line to see how taut it was, and finding it very taut, was cause for him to be even more nervous. It was an indication that it had been set with a hair trigger and that was almost a guarantee that whoever had set it was highly skilled. Using the scissors, Leo carefully reached out, snipped the deadly line and then released a large breath. After transferring sweat from his face to shirt sleeve, Leo put the scissors back into his pocket. Then he removed the metal detector from his shoulder and started to take another step, but then hesitated. A voice in his head that had been silent for forty years began whispering a warning. Leo knew that little voice had helped keep him safe while in Vietnam and he wasn't about to ignore it now. Without moving forward, Leo squatted and sprayed a mist of oil as if he had not found the higher line. The mist slowly fell to the ground without highlighting anything. False alarm, but better safe than sorry. Leo attempted to stand, but the leg that usually tingled due to the .22 caliber bullet was now throbbing from overwork. Preparing for a second try at standing, he noticed a bug performing a magic trick; it appeared to be levitating. It had wings but they were neatly folded down its back and it was simply hovering eight inches above the ground. Because Leo didn't believe in magical bugs, he began looking for a solution to this trick. Picking up a small stick, he used it to poke the bug and it immediately took flight. With careful examination, Leo could see another tripwire but it was unlike any he'd heard of before; it appeared to be made with a camouflage-colored nylon thread. Although sweat was running down both cheeks and dripping off his chin, Leo again felt cold. Not just a fear chill this time, but a mind numbing cold. He knew that he needed to focus on safely disarming this threat, but Leo couldn't seem to get passed the idea that someone had actually installed a second tripwire to the same explosive device. Whoever set this booby-trap is a master; somebody to be respected, and feared. It took a moment for Leo's hands to stop shaking before he reached for the scissors. He carefully snipped the line, rendering it harmless, and then cut off a 6-inch long piece. He examine the piece of string carefully and found that even close-up he couldn't distinguish the color for sure; maybe dark green mixed with brown and black. He also couldn't determine what it was made from, it wasn’t nylon but it was strong. Leo wound the string around his fingertip and then rolled it off creating a ball that he slipped into his shirt pocket. As a second thought, he cut off another piece about a foot long and stuffed it in his pants pocket. Just in case. Everything was different now. Leo couldn't continue until he thought of a way to detect this new type of tripwire. Oh hell no…I can't quit now…think, think, think. He looked around and all he saw were blackberry bushes and weeds. Think like a marine and improvise. Leo found the longest and most limber weed available within reach and added it to his collection of detection devices. Leo still checked each step with the metal detector, same as before, but now instead of spraying a mist of oil, he waved the weed in front of him. Starting above his head, he slowly lowered the weed all the way to the ground. The first pass, he held the weed close to his body, second pass was at arm's length; finale pass was at his furthest reach. This was not as safe as Leo would have liked, but under the circumstances… When Leo got to the end of the blackberry patch, it was also the end of the level ground on the plateau. He could see the crest of the hill 150-yards above him and could again choose his route. Unfortunately, Leo could also see that regardless of his choice, it would be nearly straight up. I'm too old for this shit. As much as Leo would have liked to rest for a while before tackling that next 150 yards, he feared that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again. Sucking in a deep breath, Leo pressed on. One and a half hours later, Leo was at the top looking down on a lush green river valley, a bridge, and a trailer park. No, this can’t be right. I must be more overheated than I thought. Leo looked away and focused on a giant white oak tree. His vision appeared to be normal so he looked back and the trailer park was still there. OK, so maybe I'm not delusional. Leo slid the backpack off and took out a small pair of binoculars. Using the binoculars, he saw that the trailers were protected on three sides by high rock walls and parked in a semi-circle with the fronts facing out. Looking around, Leo saw there were two armed guards dressed in camouflage protecting the only way in or out of the trailer park. Leo continued watching the guards because he thought they were acting strange. Although he thought they were approximately 100 feet apart, the guards were standing with their backs toward each other. The binoculars made it possible for him to see their mouths moving as if talking and Leo searched the rocks one of the guards seemed to be talking to. He was surprised to find another guard in what appeared to be a snipers’ nest. Knowing what to look for, Leo quickly found a similar situation on the opposite side making a total of four guards that he could see. This looks like a military compound of some kind. Leo followed the freshly graveled road with his eyes and quickly found the bridge that didn't belong there. Looking across the bridge, Leo could see the roof of a house that was surrounded by forest. Leo lowered the binoculars from his eyes and then lowered his body to the ground. He thought about what he positively knew and what he was guessing he might know in an attempt to fit the pieces together. Daniel Wess purchased all of the land along both sides of that road and then blocked it with a locked gate. Then he presumably put a bridge across the creek so he would have access to the land he now owns. Apparently, Wess has also created a trailer park that looks like a military compound, complete with armed guards. Why? For what purpose? Leo's stomach churned when Waco and Ruby Ridge popped into his mind.  Quantico 6:30 AM Thompson stood motionless watching the 72-inch screen while the satellite camera captured everything in real-time. Pushing a button on the control panel in front of him, the view widened as it zoomed out enough to show the mobile homes. He relentlessly studied the compound, memorizing every rock, every tree, every anything that was stationary. His vigil was interrupted by a young agent calling for him. "Agent Thompson sir, we've got a heat signature on the outer perimeter. It's definitely a person but he's in the trees and we can't see through the canopy to identify him." Thompson stood behind the young agent and watched the computer monitor. There was an illuminated stick figure moving on the hillside overlooking Wess' compound. For two full minutes he watched the way the figure moved and was convinced that this person, whoever he was, did not belong there; he was sneaking. Thompson watched for another minute and then he suddenly thought he knew who it might be. He barked an order. "Take one of the cameras and follow that dirt road toward town. I'm bettin' that you'll find a vehicle that belongs to this guy." In less than ten minutes, an agent called out. "We got it; a 1978 Dodge pickup registered to Leo Willard." Thompson continued watching the stick figure that the thermo cam had detected. Why am I not surprised? He’d already read Leo Willard's file and knew that he’d retired from the Border Patrol with several commendations. Willard was a good cop, but he is way out of his league here and doesn't even know it. Leo Overlooking the Compound Leo raised himself up enough to see the way that the mobile homes were strategically placed in a semi circle, protected by rock cliffs and armed guards. There was no doubt in Leo's mind that Wess had created his own private militia and this was their compound. His mind cycled back to the same questions again. Why, for what purpose? No answer surfaced; he needed more information. Leo knew there had to be a major piece of this puzzle missing. He thought about what Hal had said about information. 'Information is power. The more you know about any situation the more control you have over it.' Leo didn't even know what the situation was, and he was positive he had no control over it. On hands and knees, Leo quietly backed away from the high ridge overlooking the compound. When he got to where he had left his backpack, he looked at his watch. Time for breakfast. Reaching into the backpack, Leo removed a granola bar, opened it, and then put the wrapper back into the backpack. He didn't want to leave trash where somebody might find it in case he needed to come back. Taking the granola bar, a bottle of water, and the binoculars, Leo crawled back to the ridgeline to settle in for the day. JFV headquarters "Damnit Jinks, if you’re right about that old pickup, that sonofabitch in the basement is a fuckin' cop. Are you sure?" "I'm tellin' you that truck belonged to my cousin Willie." Hal was standing with his ear near the open trap door in the ductwork listening to a conversation between Spurlock and Jinks. He’d been concerned about the possibility of that old pickup killing him while driving, but hadn't considered that it might get him killed later. Damnit all to hell. What are the odds that somebody would recognize that old piece of shit? Hal knew that his time was up and with or without the information, he had to get out of there. He heard Spurlock talking. "Wess will get back day after tomorrow and we need to get rid of him before then." "Okay, how do you want to do it?" "Let him escape." Hal heard Jinks laugh and then the overhead squeaks of the hardwood floor as the two men left the office. Closing the trap door to help muffle the sound, Hal quickly put the bathroom wall back in place. Next, he brought the food tray into the restroom and used the spoon to rake his breakfast into the toilet and with a single flush it appeared as though he’d eaten. Hal returned the tray to the couch and then sat beside it thinking. Spurlock said that he needs to get rid of me before Wess gets back. That sounds like Wess doesn't want me dead; at least not yet. Why would that be? Let me escape my ass. That would be just an excuse to shoot me. What if… The sound of someone unlocking the basement door interrupted Hal's thoughts and within seconds the door swung open. Lizard Boy rushed down the steps missing half of them and walked briskly to the couch. He leaned his AK47 assault rifle against the end of the couch and picked up the food tray. Forgetting the rifle, Lizard Boy rushed back to the stairs and was halfway to the top when Hal stopped him. "Hey dumbass; you forgot something." When Lizard Boy looked back, Hal hadn't moved. He was still sitting on the opposite end of the couch six-feet from the rifle. Hal pointed to the rifle with his chin. "You'll have to come get it; I'm not gonna bring it to you." Lizard Boy hesitated for a moment and then came back down the stairs. Holding the food tray with one hand, he picked up the rifle with the other. "Why didn't you use it and make a break for it?" Hal showed him his trademark cocky grin. "Because it ain't loaded." "And what makes you think it ain't loaded?" Hal's cocky grin got even bigger. "Spurlock is too smart to give somebody like you a loaded weapon." Hal saw the other man's eyes blaze with rage for an instant and then turn to ice. Without speaking, Lizard Boy left the basement. Watching him go Hal thought, Oh well, we probably wouldn't have ever been friends anyway. Hal listened to Lizard Boy slam the basement door and the lock snap into place. He wondered what would be next, but he didn't have long to wait for the answer. Almost immediately, the basement door flew open and Jinks came down the steps carrying a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun with a pistol grip. Hal made a quick estimate of the weapon and thought the overall length was only sixteen inches with a barrel length of ten inches. He knew that it would be nearly impossible for anybody to miss a man-size target at 10 feet or less. If I'm going to die anyway, I might as well have some fun first. Maintaining his Australian accent, Hal said, "Do you carry a big shotgun to make up for having a small penis?" He smiled when he saw Jinks twitch slightly. "On your feet; we're goin' for a walk." Hal knew that, for him, it would be a one-way trip. "No thanks mate. I've grown rather fond of this couch." Jinks raised the shotgun so it was pointing at Hal. "It wasn't a request." In less than a minute, they were climbing the steps with Hal in the lead and with each step, Hal could feel the cold steel of the shotgun pressing hard against his spine. Jinks had made Hal shove his arms down inside the overalls until his hands were touching his thighs and then wrapped a length of nylon cord around Hal's neck. Jinks was holding the end of the cord in one hand and the shotgun in the other; Hal was on a leash. Hal thought about the little he knew about animal control. If you control the head, you control the animal. He was not an animal but he knew the same technique applied to humans, and in this case, it made the possibility of escape very slim. There’s got to be a way. When they reached the top of the steps Jinks said, "Go right." A moment later they left the house through the back door and Hal could see two small sheds in the yard and an old barn further back. Jinks was at the other end of the four-foot-long leash keeping it tight and keeping his distance. "Go left." Hal did as he was told and found himself going toward a freshly graveled road. When he got to the road, Hal heard the command, "Go right," and then he could see an old iron bridge. Perfect! Hal didn't have much time; the bridge was close. He knew that there were a multitude of things that could go wrong with his plan but only two concerned him at the moment. He didn't know how deep the water would be, and somehow he had to get Jinks to do his part. "Mr. Jinks, how long have you and Mr. Spurlock been together?" No response. "You guys remind me of a couple of cartoon characters I watched when I was a kid." They stepped onto the bridge. "They were Peat and Repeat. Peat was a big guy, kinda dumb, and the leader. Repeat was a little dufuss that just went along and did what he was told." They were nearly halfway across the bridge and Hal knew that it was now or never. "But I think you and Mr. Spurlock are more like a real couple, and you are his bitch." Suddenly, Jinks yanked hard on the nylon cord just as Hal hoped he would. Hal stumbled backward and then purposely kept going knocking Jinks down. He continued to stumble backward stomping over the top of Jinks all the way to the edge of the bridge. As planned, Hal then fell backward into the water with his legs folded over his chest and head. As he entered the cold water, Hal felt the burning pain of .00 buckshot stabbing into the back of his thighs, and as much as it hurt, he knew that it was nothing compared to the pain of being gut shot. Same time Quantico Thompson was watching Hal on the end of a rope walking in front of Buddy Jinks and he could also see the sawed-off shotgun. There was no doubt in Thompson’s mind that his friend was marching to his place of execution and he instantly made the decision. “Contact the snipers and tell them to take the shot.” Same time Lucas Cave The Cross brothers Now the three brothers each had a black ninja outfit to go with their fancy new rifles and each had picked their spots carefully with a specific purpose in mind. Each spot provided a clear view of the JFV headquarters as well as most of the surrounding area. Each spot had also been modified to provide a solid shooting platform with as much comfort as possible. Now that there was something to see, all three brothers were in the place each one had personally customized for himself. Steve was watching Hal walking toward the bridge with a rope around his neck while a much smaller man was walking behind him holding the other end of the rope in one hand and a sawed-off double barrel shotgun in the other. Talking to Jimmy, Steve asked, "Isn't that the same feller that was rolled up in that old rug?" Jimmy snorted a half laugh. "Yeah, and it looks like he ain't a lot better off now than he was then." Steve lowered his fancy new rifle and pulled the black ninja hood off his head. His dark brown hair was sweat-soaked and stuck to his scalp so that in the limited light it appeared to be painted on. He used the hood to wipe sweat from his face before speaking his mind. "I think this feller is a friend to the one that bought Johnny Clark's pickup and we all know that he is a friend to Uncle Tobias." Jimmy said, "And the friend of a friend is a friend.” He snickered. “Maybe we orta give him a hand, he ain’t got none of his own" Steve raised the fancy rifle back up to his shoulder. "That's what I was thinkin’. We'll help him if we can." Billy saw a flash of light on the ridge as if sunlight had reflected off something. Aiming his fancy new rifle in that direction he said, "Well I’ll be. Speak of the devil." Leo Overlooking the Compound On the ridge, Leo was lying on his stomach with his binoculars in place hoping to learn something useful. He’d been watching the valley below for an hour when a flicker of movement got his attention. Shifting his line of sight toward the movement, Leo could see a young whitetail deer grazing in knee-deep clover. He’d been watching the beautiful creature for several minutes when it suddenly jerked its head up and stared in the general direction of the bridge. The deer remained motionless for a moment and then bound away instantly vanishing from sight. Leo turned and looked back toward the bridge where he saw what had spooked the deer. Two men walking in single file were approaching the bridge, but there was something odd about the way they were walking. Leo attempted to focus the binoculars so that details would be brought out hoping that he could identify one or both of the men. After fine-tuning, the best he could do was guess at the identification. Although he couldn't be 100-percent sure, Leo was at least 90-percent sure that the large man in front was Hal and the smaller guy following was Jinks. Leo watched the two men step onto the bridge and… "Don't move! Not even a teeny tiny bit." The deep commanding voice came from behind Leo and he obeyed. He knew that armed guards patrolled the area but he didn't believe that anyone could sneak up on him. Obviously, he’d been wrong. "OK, stretch your arms out in front and roll over, slow; let's see who you are." Leo did as he was told and when he was on his back the first thing he saw was an AK47 pointing at him. Looking passed the rifle at the man holding it, Leo saw a large black man dressed in camouflage with massive burn scars on his face, neck, and arms. Leo mentally named the man Scar. "What are you doing here?" Scar asked. Thinking fast, Leo said, "I was just scouting for a place to hunt deer this fall." He knew that this story would fall apart as soon as Scar saw the metal detector, but it was the best lie he could come up with on such short notice. It was at that moment everything seemed to happen at once. Leo heard a distant gunshot originating from the area of the bridge below and Scar took three quick steps forward so he could see over the ridge. There was a distant sound similar to far away thunder and then Leo heard a distinctive hollow pop like someone had dropped an over-ripe watermelon onto the sidewalk. Horrified, Leo watched Scar's head explode spraying him with blood, gray matter, and bone fragments. When he was able to breathe again the odor that assaulted his senses was one that he’d never forget but he didn’t know when the dead man had fallen on him. Leo quickly got out from under Scar's lifeless body and rolled over onto his stomach searching for Hal at the bridge. What he saw was puzzling; Hal was gone and Jinks was bending over the side of the bridge. Leo again heard a distant rumble similar to thunder. Then for no apparent reason, Jinks looked up as if startled and immediately threw himself over the side. Leo continued watching the bridge and the valley below hoping to see something that would help him understand what had just happened. He knew that he couldn't stay there much longer because somebody would undoubtedly come looking for Scar. Same time Quantico, VA Thompson gave the orders for the snipers to take a shot but in less than a minute he received news that he did like. “Agent Thompson sir, it appears that we have lost partial communication with our snipers.” “What the hell does that mean?” Thompson snapped. The communication specialist that the army had sent was not the least bit afraid of Thompson. Answering the question, Lieutenant Anderson said, “They can hear me but I can’t hear them.” Thompson stood watching the drama unfold on the 72-inch screen. He was unconsciously shifting his weight from one foot to the other causing a slight side-to-side rocking motion. One of his agents watched Thompson with concern; he’d never seen his commander appear to be nervous, worried, or scared before. Suddenly there was a collective gasp throughout the room. "What the hell just happened?" Thompson barked. "Have you got Agent Hackney on thermal?" He spoke quietly to himself, angry because Jinks had gotten away. "Now I know why we can't win the war in Iraq. I could've hit that little piece of shit with a fucking slingshot." "Sir," the agent in charge of the thermal camera addressed Thompson. "We have lost Agent Hackney; he must be underwater." Thompson glared at his man and spat his words. "Of course he's underwater; he just jumped off a goddamn bridge. I want to know when he comes up!" He looked around the room and saw the faces of a dozen young agents looking at him with a gamut of emotions. Thompson realized that he’d stepped over the line and needed to take a break. "I'm sorry. I'll be in my office." He dropped his eyes, and shaking his head, started walking away. "Agent Thompson sir, we had a thermal hit in the area where Agent Hackney entered the water but it was gone before we could zoom in." The agent with the bouncing ponytail spoke. "When I was a kid, we used to swim in creeks like that and there were a lot of washed-out places under the bank where a person could hide." Everyone in the room watched as some of the hardness melted from Thompson's eyes and a very faint smile of hope touched his lips. "You mean like an overhang?" "Exactly," Agent Ponytail responded. “And some went back as much as 4 feet.” The agent in charge of thermal tracking called out. "The Willard target is on the move." Thompson had given the order to protect Willard. He asked, "Alone?" "Yes, apparently the sniper was successful." Thompson thought, Must've had the wrong one covering Hal. Then aloud, "OK, stay on him. I want to know what he's up to." Someone called out, "Jinks is out of the water." Thompson watched the 72-inch screen and hardness returned to his eyes and could also be heard in his voice. "Don't lose that little bastard; I want to know where he goes." Without taking his eyes off Jinks, he asked, "Where the hell is Spurlock?" "The tracking device we put on his vehicle indicates that he is in Hardinsburg; that's the county seat." Everyone saw it; Agent Thompson had regained control of himself and was back in the game. "I know it's the damn county seat. Check with our agents on the ground and find out what he's doing there. I want to know if he so much as passes gas." Same time The Cross brothers Lucas Cave All three brothers were laughing and holding their ears while stumbling around inside the cave. None of them had ever fired a gun inside a cave before and were surprised at how loud it had been. They finally fell down but continued laughing until the tears ran freely down their cheeks and their sides ached. Jimmy was the first to speak. Yelling, he said, "Did you see that shot Billy made? That black guy's head popped like a yellow-headed pimple." Billy held his aching sides and was attempting to stop laughing. “Yeah, I wasn’t real sure about that new rifle so I used my old one.” Steve stopped laughing and got serious. Shouting he said, "Remember the bullet-proof vests them ninja fellers was wearing? Well, I’m thinking everybody has got one, so from now on we all need to make head shots." Same time Hal under the bridge Hal had only half as much air in his lungs as he’d intended; partly due to the yelp of pain caused by the buckshot entering his legs, and partly due to the impact of landing in the water on his back. He hoped that the dingy water was deep enough for him to quickly sink out of sight, but before he managed to get very far down, Hal heard, and felt, something hit the water above him. He knew there were not many things on the bridge that could cause a splash that big and he was sure that it was Jinks. Thoughts flashed through Hal’s mind. This makes no sense, I’m twice his size. Maybe he thinks I'm hurt really bad. No, he would just let me drown. So why would he risk getting in the water with me? Is he really that stupid? Hal’s lungs were burning and he couldn't hold his breath much longer; he needed air, regardless of the consequences. He cautiously floated toward the surface expecting that at any moment Jinks would grab him and attempt to hold him under. He was confident that as long as he didn't panic, he could easily handle Mr. Jinks. Hal straightened his legs and kicked propelling himself toward the surface. The pain that shot through him was so intense he thought that maybe he really was badly wounded after all. A moment later, his head reached the surface without encountering any obstacle and he gratefully filled his lungs with the much-needed air. Hearing the water splashing behind him, Hal turned expecting to be attacked. He was surprised to see Jinks pull himself out of the creek and disappear in the thick overgrown brush. Barely making a ripple, Hal silently disappeared below the surface and headed for the opposite bank. The water was so murky that he couldn't see anything and didn't know where the bank was until he ran into it. Hal slowly allowed his head to rise out of the water enough to see and found himself three feet passed the edge of the bank under an overhang. It had taken countless years for the water to wash away enough soil to create a large hole that was completely hidden. Hal smiled and thought, this is a dark, wet, muddy, piece of heaven. He was confident that as long as he stayed there he would be safe. Jinks leaves the creek When Jinks pulled himself out of the water, he scrambled behind a brush pile that had been left by the last flood and then looked back at the creek. He was worried about Hal grabbing him because he wasn’t convinced the big man was fatally wounded. Seeing nothing, he reloaded the shotgun and then scooted backward into the center of a thicker brush pile. When he thought he was out of sight from all directions, he took off his shirt, the Kevlar vest, and then his undershirt. Examining himself, Jinks was relieved to find no blood. The vest saved my life. Checking the vest, he saw that the bullet had struck him in the back on an angle causing it to be deflected and then trapped in the webbing. Thinking back, Jinks was sure it was because he’d leaned over the railing to shoot at Hal. Looking at the bullet, Jinks knew he was wrong about the vest saving his life. There was no doubt that if he’d been hit straight on, he would be dead instead of badly bruised. The Kevlar vest hadn’t actually stopped that bullet nor would it stop the next one. This type of bullet was not available on the open market and Jinks was positive that there was at least one Army Ranger sniper and probably more. Jinks got redressed and then being careful to stay in the thick underbrush, crawled toward the bridge. By keeping out of sight, it took him nearly a half-hour to reach the back door of the JFV headquarters. Entering, he quickly checked the entire house and found the only person there was the cook. She was a 28 year-old illegal immigrant and very shapely as well as a good cook. A nasty smile formed on his face. Perfect, I'll wait right here, and the bitch will keep me company. I know that Spurlock is screwing her, but Spurlock ain’t here, and I am. Same time Leo, overlooking the compound Due to the odd sound, Leo was convinced that Scar had been shot by a sniper with a semi-silenced weapon, but he didn't know who or why. Tobias Morgan's nephews came to mind and he thought it might be somebody with a grudge that intended to pick-off everybody at the compound one at a time. Because of the way he was dressed in camouflage, that scenario made Leo uneasy; he knew that he could easily be mistaken for one of them. Leo was moving more quickly now, partly because he knew that moving targets were harder to hit and partly because he needed to find out what had happened to Hal. He was confident that if he stayed near the top of the ridge, he would not encounter any booby-traps. Leo reasoned that if there were booby-traps, there wouldn't have been a need for anyone to patrol. Leo had gone only three hundred-yards when he found what he was looking for: an old mostly hollow log. He quickly stuffed the metal detector into the log making sure that it was out of sight. Using his knife, Leo removed some bark from a tree that was twenty-yards from the log and was then confident that he could find this spot again. Now, with only his backpack it was easier for him to move quickly and he was in a hurry to find out what had happened to his friend. Staying low, Leo maneuvered himself to within ten feet of the top of the ridge where he stopped and removed his backpack. Taking the binoculars out, he crawled the last ten feet to the top and peered over. Between him and the bridge was a quarter-mile of dirt: no bushes, no grass, just dirt with no cover at all. Leo knew that the clearing had been done to help secure the perimeter around the compound. He studied the scene below and decided that the only way he might be able to get to the bridge was to follow the ridge all the way to the creek. He guessed that would get him within a half-mile downstream from the bridge, maybe more, then he could follow the creek. Crawling backward, Leo found where he’d left his backpack and put his binoculars away. He slung the backpack over one shoulder, and crouching low, took off at a fast pace. He didn't know what had happened to Hal, but he intended to find out, and he also wanted to find Jinks. There was the little matter of being shot at that needed to be settled: for himself and for Tye. I just want five minutes alone with Mr. Jinks. An hour later, Leo figured he must be getting close to the creek because the ridge above him was gradually disappearing and going downhill. That brought a moment of joy, but it was short-lived because it also brought the reality of running into another sentry. Leo new that it was imperative for him to see the other guy first, if there was one, and he was confident there would be. Slowing his pace dramatically, Leo went into his stealth mode. Remembering yesterday morning when he and Denver Specks had been ordered to leave by a large commando-type fellow, Leo wondered if he would find the same guy there today. Two hundred yards further, Leo peaked around the trunk of large tree and could see the sun reflecting off water. He started to move closer but a distant sound stopped him and he squatted to wait and listen. When the sound got closer, Leo could positively identify it as a vehicle on a gravel road. A few minutes more and he heard the metallic rattle of a vehicle crossing a steel bridge. Ten seconds after the first vehicle, there was a second, and ten seconds more, there was a third. Leo looked at his watch and saw that it was almost noon. He surmised that all the traffic meant that Spurlock's commandos were coming back for lunch. But back from where and doing what? Leo stayed where he was and waited for the sounds of nature to return to normal. When the birds and other unseen creatures that called this place home resumed their squeaks, whistles, and chatter, he thought it was safe to go on. Leo felt it necessary to be even more careful now because he knew there were additional men at the compound. All of his senses were on high alert and he was even paying close attention to gut feelings. Leo tilted his head back and looked passed the dark green leaves at the sky. Cora, honey, if there's anything you or Tye can do to help… Leo didn't finish the thought; he knew they would. At that moment, a dog began barking in the distance behind him and sounded as if it might be chasing something. Maybe a deer. Leo started to rise with the intentions of moving on closer to the creek when he heard someone quietly chuckle and speak as if to himself. "Another fucking doggie gonna go boom." Leo froze in place. The voice had come from directly in front of him on the other side of the same tree he was hiding behind. Thanks Tye. Leo took a moment to praise himself for getting this close without being detected and then tried to think of what to do next. His pistol was in its usual place at the small of his back, but he thought the metallic click of the safety might be heard by whoever was on the other side of the tree. Leo instantly realized the handgun was not an option because he was positive that a shot would be heard by everyone at the compound and he could not allow his position to be discovered; my reason for being here is to help Hal and I’m too near his last known position to blow it now. Leo considered using his knife, but the pain caused by the bullet lodged in his spine reminded him that he was not a young man anymore. He knew that he was no match for a younger man physically, but mentally, well… Leo began looking around near his feet to see what nature had provided that could be used for a weapon and found a number of rocks in an assortment of sizes. Expanding the range of his search, he saw the perfect thing, maybe. Less than four feet to his right was a chunk of wood that looked like a baseball bat with the bark still on. Now, if it's just solid. Leo attempted to reach the stick without moving his feet but found that in his current squatting position it was impossible. Moving slowly, he stood and saw a large flat stone that was partially buried halfway between him and the stick. Leo was confident that the rock would support him without moving or making a sound and he placed his right foot near its center. Slowly shifting his weight, Leo bent over and had his hand around one end of the stick when… "Hey, what the…" Leo heard the man's surprise and turned his head to look back over his shoulder. The commando had stepped away from the tree and was watching him while his hands were busy trying to get an AK47 off his shoulder. The rifle's strap hung on something for a split second and then came free and was on its deadly way toward Leo. In the same instant, Leo picked up one end of the club and started a single-handed swing as his body uncoiled from the bent down position. For some reason the commando had started a foreword motion and by the time he realized it was the wrong thing to do, it was too late. Leo's club narrowly missed the rifle, making contact with the side of the commando's head at the ear. To Leo, the impact sounded nearly as loud as a gunshot, jarring his arms and making his hands sting. The commando went down like a tree falling in slow motion. Leo stood over the man still holding the club and saw a splatter of blood at the point of impact. He looked at the club in his hand; the question about its strength had been answered and turned away from the commando intending to continue on his quest to find Hal. Before he’d taken his second step, a sound came from the commando that he’d mistakenly assumed was dead. Turning back, Leo got down on one knee to check the man's pulse and was surprised to find a strong regular heartbeat. To him, it was unbelievable that anyone could survive such a blow to the head, but this guy clearly had and it created an additional problem. Although he’d killed men in the line of duty, he was not a cold-blooded killer and could not simply kill. Leo quickly removed the laces from the commando's boots, then used one to tie the man’s hands behind his back and the other to secure his feet. Using his knife, Leo cut the commando's shirt to make a gag for his mouth but what he discovered under the shirt changed everything: a Kevlar vest. Working quickly, Leo cut the commando's shirt off, untied his hands, removed the Kevlar vest, and then retied the hands. Taking his own shirt off, Leo put the vest on, then his shirt, and then returned his attention to the commando. He put the gag in place and then went to work on the men's trousers. Leo cut through the belt and cut the button off but then lowered the zipper so not to weaken the material. With the pants loose, he dragged the commando backward by the shoulders for ten yards to a shagbark hickory tree. Stopping beside the tree, Leo went to the unconscious man's feet, and as he’d hoped, found the pants halfway down to the knees and the boots gone. Untying the commando’s feet and then grabbing a pant leg in each hand Leo jerked. As expected, the trousers came off, and an unexpected gift dropped to the ground: a cell phone. He quickly snatched the phone and shoved it in his pocket before moving the commando into a sitting position with his bare chest against the tree and a bare leg on each side. Using the trousers, Leo tied the man’s torso to the tree and then retied his feet. Stepping back to inspect his work, Leo saw the commando sitting on the ground wearing only his underwear. The man’s bare chest was tight against a tree with extremely rough bark, hands tied behind his back, bare legs wrapped around the tree, and held securely in place with a pair of trousers. Leo felt good about it and smiled. He knew that if the guy awoke and tried to move the tree’s rough bark would quickly change his mind. Glancing at his watch, Leo was proud to see that only sixteen minutes had passed since he’d heard the vehicles crossing on the bridge. As if a reminder for him to slow down, the tingle in his leg had changed into a throbbing pain and he was breathing hard. I’m getting too old for this shit. Leo could think it, but he never say it aloud.  Hal - hiding, hurt, and hungry Hal knew that he would have to stay where he was until dark. He also knew that Thompson would have been watching and seen everything that had happened at the bridge. The problem was that Thompson would have no way of knowing whether he’d survived, and Agent Thompson was his best friend. Hal wished there was some way to let Thompson know but he couldn't risk it. His stomach rumbled and he wished he’d eaten his breakfast instead of flushing it. He had his feet hooked under a tree root to prevent his legs from floating to the surface so there was little else to do but think and wish and regret. Hal thought about Leo and remembered what he’d said about regret. Leo had claimed that he'd had the perfect wife, the perfect career and the perfect life with only one regret. Leo had said that with his wife gone, his career over, and now Tye’s death, he was completely alone in the world and he regretted not having any kids. Ever since he’d heard Leo say that, it seemed to haunt Hal. Anytime Hal had time to think, that's what he thought about. And while he wasn't sure about kids, he was positive about Annabel O'Malley; his sweet, sweet Anna. Hal thought about his own life, and what he had, and he’d not done with it. He’d devoted his life to the FBI and he’d had a brilliant career. He knew that he would be famous within the bureau long past his lifetime. However, it was what he had not done that was bothering him. Hal finally understood, now that his life was more than half over, that there was an enormous difference between living, and having a life. He’d known a number of women but had only been in love with one: Annabelle O'Malley. Hal remembered how he’d been assigned to a case that made it necessary for him to work closely with the Boston Police Department and Anna O’Malley had been a rookie with less than one-year experience. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, that was what had happened, and they’d both felt it. They’d been happy together for almost three years when an argument got out of control and Hal had packed up and gone back to New York. Hal vividly remembered that had been on a Saturday, and early the next morning, he was assigned to an undercover operation in New Orleans and he’d had to leave immediately. Hal knew that Anna would be at church on Sunday morning, and he was still angry, so he’d made no attempt to contact her before he left. When he arrived in New Orleans, Hal had immediately gone undercover, and then for the next eleven weeks, he’d not been allowed to contact anyone. When he got back to New York, Hal had learned that Anna had quit the Boston PD and moved out of her apartment leaving no forwarding address. He’d assumed that she hadn't wanted him to find her, so he hadn't tried. Now, almost 20 years later, Hal was up to his neck in murky water and crystal clear memories. The cold water and the buckshot in his leg didn't hurt as much as the memories of Anna and what might have been. From somewhere above, a spider dropped onto Hal's nose interrupting his thoughts. He filled his lungs with air and ducked under the water giving the spider plenty of time to be gone before coming back up. While under the water, Hal promised himself that when this assignment was completed he would try to find Anna O'Malley. He just wanted to tell her that he was sorry for everything, but most of all, for being stupid. Hal thought he could hear or feel vibrations in the water and slowly raised his head. He was basically underground and couldn't really hear much but the vibrations were definitely real and getting stronger. There was a gap between the surface of the water and the ground at the open end of the overhang that was eighteen inches long and three inches wide. That small gap provided him with a view of the opposite bank where Jinks had disappeared, but little else. Hal was certain that the vibrations were in fact vehicles on the road but he couldn't see. Less than a minute later, the vibrations changed completely and he felt something like a little shock wave. Fifteen seconds after the first one, he felt a second, and ten seconds later, a third. Three vehicles crossing the bridge. Jinks must've called reinforcements. Hal knew that if a bunch of Spurlock's mercenaries started poking sticks under the overhangs, it wouldn't take them long to flush him out and finish the job that Jinks had started. Even worse, Hal knew that there was nothing he could do about it; he had nowhere else to go. He was sure that the hole he was currently hiding in was still the safest place until nightfall. Hal's mind wandered around through several old cases that he’d worked and then took an enormous leap back to his high school girlfriend that had helped him lose his virginity. Then his stomach grumbled reminding him again that he’d flushed his food instead of eating it. Hal rolled his eyes. That was a dumbass thing to do. That's when he saw it: a flicker of movement on the opposite bank. Damnit all to Hell! I knew they wouldn't forget about me. Hal concentrated on the spot and soon saw more movement that quickly took on a shape; a shape that he was familiar with. Hal said, "Hey, you looking for me?" He chuckled quietly as he watched Leo dive onto the ground and roll out of sight. A few seconds later, Hal heard Leo's voice. "Is that you Hal?" Hal grinned, "Last time I looked." Leo was visible again and moving toward him. Near the water's edge, Leo stopped. "Where the hell are you?" "Right in front of you." Hal raised one foot until his toe broke the surface, and when he was certain that Leo had seen it, the foot went back to the bottom and hooked under a root. "Hide that backpack and then come on over." Before Leo had a chance to move, Hal added, "If you've got anything to eat, bring that too." *** Leo found a root near the bottom to hook his toes under and then looked around. "Nice little place you got here; good thing I'm not claustrophobic." He wiped some mud off his chin. "You really should’ve cleaned this place up some before inviting guests in." Hal was looking at Leo's face paint. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. Look who’s talking. When was the last time you washed your damn face?" Expecting no response, Hal asked, "What's going on out there?" Talking quietly, Leo told him about everything he knew including the booby traps, Scar's head exploding, his suspicions about snipers, and finally how Agent Thompson had turned his back on Hal and ordered Leo to do the same. Hal broke up with quiet laughter as he spoke. "I know you've heard the expression, 'Big Brother is watching you'; well, in this case it's true. Agent Thompson has been watching you every step of the way, and you can bet that the sniper that saved your ass was one of ours. As for ordering you to back off; remember, you’re a civilian now". In a harsh tone, Hal said, "And for the record, the assholes you are referring to as commandos are in fact mercenaries. Hell, they're not even real mercenaries; they're hired guns, paid killers, loyal to no one in particular; just anybody that will pay their price." The more Hal talked, the angrier he became. With an underlying touch of anger of his own, Leo asked, "What do you mean, ‘watching’ me?" Hal's anger had already dissipated and he spoke defensively. "Hey don't get your shorts in a bunch. You walked under the surveillance umbrella, uninvited." He saw Leo relax and the fire in his eyes went out. Then Hal continued. "You know about Google Earth; well we got something kinda like that but a thousand times better and in real time. Anyway, you solved one of my problems just by coming over here." A small amount of loose dry dirt sifted through the overhead tree roots and fell onto Leo’s face causing him to shut his eyes as he spoke. "How's that?" Hal said, "I know they saw me jump off the bridge and land in the water, but then I never came back up, so they didn't know if I survived." Leo understood. "Then I come along and do the same thing, so they know we are together and just hiding out." Hal grinned. "Damn you’re quick." The teasing smile melted and he spoke earnestly. "I wish I had some way to contact them and find out what the hell is going on. They don't deploy snipers without a damn good reason." Leo couldn't resist the opportunity to be a smartass. "You mean saving your ass is not a good enough reason?" There was no response so he continued. "Why don't you just give them a shout?" There was unmistakable exasperation in Hal's voice. "I know I got a big mouth but I can't yell quite that loud, although right now I could probably come close." "Well then, why don't you try this?" Hal turned his head toward Leo and saw that he was wearing a smug shit-eating grin. Leo was also holding a Ziploc bag containing a cell phone and two granola bars. Hal's mouth formed a huge toothy smile that threatened to split his face. "I could kiss you." Leo said, "If you do, Spurlock's mercenaries would be the least of your problems." Being careful to not get the phone wet, Hal immediately called Agent Thompson’s secure line. Leo could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough for him to know that there was a major problem. Three minutes later, Hal put the phone back into the plastic bag and sealed it without taking a granola bar. Leo was smart enough to remain silent and wait for Hal to digest the information he’d been told. He was confident that Hal would share when he was ready. There were two minutes of silence before Hal had everything worked-out in his own mind enough to explain to Leo what had happened. The idea that someone had attacked the Yucca Mountain nuclear disposal site and stolen twenty-four pounds of RX11-3 was bad enough. In Hal's mind, what made this crime truly horrific was that there were no survivors. Thirty-three people dead. People with families. Then came the dirty-bomb threat and Hal guessed that the reason for killing the thirty-three people was to prove it was a real threat. Hal finished telling Leo about everything that had happened and then shared his theories. Leo agreed that killing all those people was nothing more than the down payment on a promise. Both men remained silent for another minute and then Leo spoke. "I've heard a lot of stuff, but I don't really know much about dirty-bombs. What are we looking at here?" Hal explained the concept in as few words as possible. "It's really pretty simple. Put radioactive material in a container, pack it with conventional explosives, like C-4 or even dynamite, and poof; you've got yourself a dirty-bomb. If it’s well-placed, a bomb like that could potentially kill a few hundred people when it goes off. The true devastation comes later when thousands or maybe hundreds of thousands die from radiation exposure." In a grave tone, Leo asked, "So, what are we going to do about it?" Hal peered out through the slot at the opposite bank. "Nothing until it gets dark, and then I'll find it." Both men felt the rumbling vibrations in the water and Leo looked questioningly at Hal. Hal said, “I think it’s vehicles on the road." Without hesitation, Leo disappeared under the water and was gone. When he returned, Leo told Hal that there had been three vehicles with at least four people in each one. With disgust, Hal said, "Give me the phone. That was a dumbass thing to do; I hope to hell you were not seen." Leo handed over the plastic bag and spoke dryly. "My whole head is black and I stayed in the shade." The expression on Hal's face said it all; an apology wasn't necessary. In less than a minute Hal snapped the phone shut and told Leo that Thompson guaranteed the men in those vehicles would not come back. Quantico Thompson placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Damn that Hal. If there's a way to do it, he’ll be the one to get the job done. I wish I had a dozen more just like him. Thompson looked up and saw the faces of every young agent in the room focused on him awaiting instructions. He was sure they’d heard enough of his side of the conversation to have a pretty good idea who he’d been talking with. Thompson cleared his throat and addressed his crew. "That was Agent Hackney. Mr. Willard is with him and they are both just fine." Thompson had to stop talking due to a heartfelt round of applause. After a few moments, he raised his hand and within seconds, the room was silent. "Listen up. Three SUVs full of mercenaries just left the compound; get somebody to catch 'em and hold 'em. I don’t care who, and I don’t care how.” Thompson paused and two agents immediately grabbed their phones then he continued. “I want all ground forces to move in; I mean close enough that if one of those mercenary assholes so much as passes gas, one of our guys will smell it. Make certain that everybody understands that nobody, under any circumstances, makes a move until I give the command." Thompson watched with satisfaction as his crew began contacting the appropriate people and relaying his orders. I've got a damn good group here. They are young and inexperienced, but dedicated as hell and committed. God, I hope that's enough. Someone called out, "Agent Thompson sir, Spurlock just left Hardinsburg and is heading west toward the compound." Thompson asked, "Has his cell phone been disabled?" "They are working on it, sir." Thompson growled. “Not good enough. Make it happen.” He didn't want Spurlock to know what was happening at the compound. He wanted Spurlock to think everything was fine so he’d walk right in and deal with Hal. Up close and personal. That thought made him smile because he knew how much Hal wanted Spurlock. Dusk - Hal and Leo under the overhang It had been a very long afternoon and both men were still adsorbed in their own thoughts. Leo looked back at his life carefully and decided the only thing he would change is how and when his beloved Cora died. Hal was also reviewing his life again and ended the same as before with only one regret: his sweet Anna. There had been almost no conversation between them because there was nothing to be said. They both understood what had to be done and what it might cost them, but what stood out the most was the price of failure. Suddenly, Leo jerked his head around and looked at Hal. "I know where the bomb is, or rather where it was." Hal was stunned. "What?" It was already dark in their hole and neither man could see facial expressions, but Hal could hear the excitement in Leo's voice. "Remember that floating building? I watched a couple of guys deliver four biohazard containers, and then later, three houseboats went in, stayed for about a half-hour, and then left. One went upstream and two went downstream, and when all three houseboats were gone, the whole crew left. They just locked up and never came back. Don't you see? They didn't make just one bomb, they made three, and they are using houseboats and the river system as their delivery method.” Leo paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and when he continued he had a compelling scenario. “Think about it; since 911, security has gotten so tight that it would be almost impossible to transport something like that. We've got people watching everything except the rivers and nobody pays any attention to them. The Ohio River runs east to Pittsburgh and west to the Mississippi River, and from there you can go anywhere, from the Gulf of Mexico to Montana." Hal was quiet for a moment, and then, much too loud, he exclaimed, "Damnit!" Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Why didn't I see that? Give me that damn phone." Without speaking, Leo handed him the plastic bag and listened to Hal talking with Thompson. In less than a minute, Hal was on hold and talking to himself. "I must've had my head stuck up my ass to have missed that. I was sure they wanted your place for a shipping point but I…" He stopped ranting when Thompson came back on the line and in another 15 seconds, he snapped the phone shut. Without saying anything, Hal put the phone back into the plastic bag and took out both granola bars. Leo heard rustling sounds, then crunchy chewing and knew what Hal was doing. With frustration, Leo said, "Well?" The crunching stopped and Leo imagined a big cocky grin on Hal's face when he spoke. "Thompson had some of our guys watching your place and saw the houseboats leave. He had somebody stick transmitters on all three houseboats when they went through the locks at the dam on their way to where ever they were going. He knows exactly where they are and has people going to them right now." Hal took another bite of granola and began chewing. Leo heard the crunching resume and the frustration was obvious in his voice. "That's good news; but what about us?" Hal was tormenting Leo and loving every minute of it. "Oh yeah, the New York City office is looking for Wess and they'll soon have him in custody." He resumed chewing. Leo's frustration was quickly turning into anger. "Again, that's mighty nice; but what about us? I'm not going to stay in this damn hole much longer." Hal knew that his fun-time was over. "Thompson said for us to stay where we are for a few minutes until he gets everybody in position then we round 'em all up." "Okay, but Jinks is mine." Hal heard vengeance in Leo's voice. "Just remember you can't hurt him." "I'm not a cop anymore; I can do any damn thing I want." Before Hal could respond, Leo ducked under the water and was gone. Hal waited another minute and thought about what Thompson had told him about Wess and Spurlock. Supposedly, when Wess found out that Spurlock had killed all those people at Yucca Mountain, he’d turned himself in and offered to help. Wess was claiming that he’d trusted Spurlock and pretty much given him a blank check to get the JFV compound up and running. Wess was claiming that he’d been bluffing and only wanted justice for his murdered parents and that he didn't know Spurlock was doing anything on his own. Stupid kid; well, maybe it's true and maybe it's not, but we'll damn sure find out. Hal slid down under the water and left the safety of the hole; he wanted to get his hands on Spurlock almost as much as Leo wanted Jinks. The Cross brothers leave Lucas Cave The Cross brothers had been watching the JFV headquarters from the safety of the Lucas Cave all day, and with the exception of a few minutes of action earlier in the day, and some vehicle traffic, they’d seen nothing of any great interest. Steve could see that Billy was becoming restless. He knew his youngest brother better than anyone and knew that restlessness would soon change to agitation. Steve also knew that nobody would be happy if that happened. Speaking to both brothers, Steve said, "It's almost dark, and we’ve got these fancy new ninja outfits. What say we wait until it gets full dark and then try ‘um out?” *** Thirty minutes later the Cross brothers scooted out from under the rock ledge into a dark moonless night. The lack of moonlight didn’t really make a difference to the brothers because they’d been hunting together since early childhood and sight or words were unnecessary. Each brother knew what he was expected to do as well as what the other two would be doing. But they were happy that the ninja outfits made them more invisible than the darkness alone. They knew the moon would be out soon and then the ninja outfits would make a huge difference. FBI headquarters New York City Agent Duncan put a call in to agents Cox and Beal telling them to stop the hunt for Daniel Wess. He explained that Wess had lawyered-up and was turning himself in and that he already had complete immunity. Agents Cox and Beal were both bewildered with that bit of news and then angry. Agent Sandra Cox was the first to speak her mind. "What kind of stupid-ass would grant complete immunity before we know what we’re dealing with?" Agent Duncan made no attempt to conceal the contempt he felt. "There ain’t but one kind; the governor kind." *** Agent Duncan was standing behind a viewing panel near the entrance of the building and behind him were agents Cox and Beal. They watched Wess and his lawyer enter the building and were carefully studying the young man's body language. They noted that Daniel Wess was wearing a suit that cost more than an FBI agent's monthly salary and that his blond hair had been recently cut and meticulously styled by a professional. The young man reeked of wealth but that obviously wasn’t enough; it was as if he needed everyone to know how important he was. Beside Wess was Kenneth Webster, a well-known criminal lawyer that was famous for three things. (1) His impressive track record of more than 300 wins and 11 losses, (2) his unrealistic price, (3) his uncanny resemblance to the fictional character, Col. Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Wess and Webster were taken into the infamous interrogation room 3 and left there. The windowless room was small and drab and had a sour musty odor emanating from the shabby beige carpet. That carpet had been puked on, pissed on, and then purposely poorly cleaned so many times, the yellowish stains overlapped. Originally, the room had been a storage closet and the walls had been painted an off-white that had aged to a dull yellow. There were two heavy, unpadded, straight-back wooden chairs that had been bolted to the floor facing each other and no other furniture. Wess sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs and leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees and then clasped his hands together in front of his mouth. He stayed in that position until his body ached and then leaned back in the chair with his fingers laced behind his head. He remained in that position until his butt was throbbing and then abandoned the hard chair. Then he began pacing in the small room and continued until his feet complained and then he sat starting the process over from the beginning. He knew there was plenty of time to play the FBI's silly game so he tried to make the most of it. Kenneth Webster on the other hand, remained standing and leaned against the wall. He was familiar with the reputation of room 3 and understood that they were being left there in the hope that the dismal atmosphere would affect his client in a way favorable to the FBI. He also knew that it was a huge waste of time because he’d already gotten total immunity for Daniel Wess; and he had it in writing. The waste of time didn't bother the lawyer because he was getting paid by the hour and his hourly rate was equivalent to a factory worker’s weekly salary. Kenneth Webster smiled when he thought about it in those terms; his own father had worked in a factory for 25 years. Daniel Wess had watched enough television to know that he was being watched and everything he did and said would be recorded. He was conscious of the way he looked and the way he might appear to others. Wess thought about Sharon Kay and briefly considered calling to warn her to get out of town. No, she made her choice. She made her bed and now she can die in it. Wess was tired of sitting and stood to start the pacing again. Agents Duncan, Cox, and Beal were in the adjoining room watching the show that Wess was putting on. Agent Duncan said, "Quite a performance." He turned to face the other agents. "Okay, let's compare notes." Agent Sandra Cox said, "Big difference between now and the arrogant SOB that walked in when he thought nobody was watching." Agent Beal said, "Give me 15 minutes alone with him and I'll have him begging to talk." Agent Duncan chuckled. "I wish." *** A clean cut man in his mid to late 30's, with short dark hair stepped through the door. He was wearing a cheap dark blue suit, white shirt, and a dark blue tie with white freckles. A nametag clipped to his lapel identified him as an FBI agent but Wess couldn't read the name. Behind the man, entered a woman in her early 30's with medium length brown hair and wearing a dark gray power suit. Wess thought she could be fixed-up and made attractive if it wasn't for the hard lines at the corners of her mouth. When she sat in the chair opposite him, Wess was disappointed that no cleavage could be seen but he could read her nametag: Agent Sandra Cox. The agent standing beside Agent Cox was the first to speak. "Mr. Wess, I'm Agent Beal." With a single quick nod of his head, Agent Beal indicated his partner. "And this is Agent Cox." Both agents ignored Kenneth Webster. Wess ignored Agent Beal and addressed Agent Cox. "Should I call you Sandra or Sandy?" There was a chill in her voice that couldn’t be missed. "Mr. Wess, you should address me as Agent Cox." Wess had never been shot down by a woman before and it stung. His arrogance would only allow one possible explanation; under the circumstances, she had no choice. With obvious pity in his voice Wess replied, "Of course Agent Cox, I understand completely." Agent Beal knew his partner and jumped in before it got ugly. "Mr. Wess, am I to understand that you devised this plan?" Now it was Kenneth Webster's turn to jump in. Offering his hand to Beal, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Kenneth Webster, Mr. Wess' attorney." Agent Beal ignored the offered hand. "I know who you are." The lawyer was accustomed to this kind of treatment from the law-enforcement community and continued to smile. "I am certain that you already know my client has full immunity." Agent Beal spoke dryly. "Yeah I know." Wess was quick to try to defuse the situation. "The original plan was mine, but it was a total bluff. I had nothing to do with the events that actually took place." Agent Beal sounded sarcastic. "Come now Mr. Wess; do you expect us to believe that a bunch of illiterate mercenaries figured out how to get passed the security at the Yucca Mountain site?" Unable to conceal the pride he felt Wess answered. "No, of course that was mine, but nobody was supposed to get hurt." Agent Cox said, "But they did. 33 people died." Webster spoke up. "My client already said that he had nothing to do with that." The two agents continued interrogating Wess for two hours but he stuck to his story. Wess claimed that Spurlock was supposed to steal the nuclear waste, without harming anybody, and then safely store it at the floating dock until the demands for justice were met. After more than two hours of interrogation, the agents were unable to uncover anything that would make the immunity agreement void. Having no choice, they had to turn Wess loose. Hal's assault on JFV headquarters Hal was standing beside the front door of the JFV headquarters with his back firmly against the wall and his 10mm Glock in his hands. There was a burning throbbing pain in both legs caused by the buckshot from Jinks' shotgun and Hal hoped that Leo got to Jinks ten minutes before anybody else. Hal had rushed to get to the house but then had to wait for backup to arrive. When they finally got there, the agent in charge handed Hal the 10mm Glock 20 that Agent Thompson said was Hal's favorite. And now, he was armed and waiting again while two agents got into position near the back door. Hal glanced at the agent that was hunkered down under the picture window and saw him throw a flash grenade through the glass. A moment later, three things happened almost simultaneously: there was a tremendous deafening boom, a blinding flash of light, and a battering ram disintegrating the front door. An adrenaline rush caused the pain in his legs to be temporarily forgotten and Hal was the second agent to enter the structure that had, until recently, been a family home. Being cautious, he went as quickly as he could toward Wess' office. Before getting halfway across the living room, Hal heard the crash of breaking glass followed by the distinctive hollow boom, boom, of a shotgun. Hearing no return fire, he knew that there would be two agents down and Jinks would be gone. Without hesitation, Hal moved on toward the office. Entering the dark hallway with his back against the wall, Hal carefully made his way toward the second door on the left. Special Agent Ashcroft was one-step behind him and Hal quickly stepped passed the first door motioning for Agent Ashcroft to clear that room. Hal knew that it was the bathroom and didn't think Spurlock would hide there. When he got to the office door, Hal heard Ashcroft kick the bathroom door open, and less than a second later, he did the same to the office door. Hal rushed into the office holding his Glock in both hands, quickly doing a visual sweep of the room. Seeing nobody, he immediately went to the desk looking behind and under it. Hal heard Ashcroft shout. "Clear!" Hal knew that he’d been right about nobody hiding in the bathroom. He turned a complete circle to look one more time and then shouted, "Clear". At almost the same time, he heard another agent call out. "Clear!" Hal knew that shout had come from Wess' bedroom and as if an echo another came from Spurlock's bedroom. Dashing back into the hallway, Hal nearly ran into the other three agents and together they hurried toward the kitchen. All four agents rushed into the kitchen, each with a two-handed grip on their weapons ready for anything. What they found confirmed what Hal had expected. Leo at JFV headquarters Twenty minutes after leaving Hal in the creek, Leo was in the shed behind JFV headquarters looking out through its open doorway. He was waiting, hoping, praying, that when the feds hit, Jinks would come out the back. Leo was confident that Jinks would get passed the cops; the cops had to play by the rules, but he didn’t and wouldn’t. He needed to settle the score for Tye and Hal as well as for himself. Leo saw movement along the back wall of the house, and within seconds, the unmistakable silhouette of men carrying guns took shape. Fearing the worst he mentally prepared himself for a shoot-out with the two mercenaries. Leo was glad that he’d taken the time to get the two extra magazines of ammunition out of his backpack. Both were extended magazines each containing 20 rounds and the one he kept in the pistol held 13 rounds so altogether he had 53 rounds of ammunition. I can put up a pretty good fight, if I live long enough. Leo thought about the Kevlar vest he’d taken from the guard near the creek and expected that all of the mercenaries would be wearing one. That meant that the only kill shots would be to the head and anything else would leave the man potentially dangerous. Leo slowly raised his Sig Sauer, clicked the safety off, and then waited for the right moment. The first man would be easy and if the second man froze for just a half-second, he would be easy too. Both of the men were almost in position and Leo began gently applying pressure on the trigger. Suddenly, there was an explosion inside the house and the window behind the two men shattered as someone came through it and hit the ground rolling. "FBI, freeze!" From where Leo was hiding, the person on the ground appeared to be a woman but before he could be sure someone else jumped out. The second person landed on their feet beside the two men and then; Boom, Boom, causing Leo to instinctively duck back inside the dark shed. When he looked out, both of the men beside the house were down and Leo watched as the second person that had come through the window roughly grabbed the first with an arm around the neck. Leo was positive that the two men he’d first believed to be mercenaries were actually FBI agents. He was just as sure that the second window crasher had been Jinks armed with a double barrel shotgun. Leo saw that he’d been right about the first person through the window being a woman, and now watched helplessly while Jinks was dragging her away. Leo started after them but a cloud slowly passed under the partial moon diming its meager light even more and then he could see almost nothing. His other senses automatically heightened and he heard the crashing sounds of someone running through the thick brush going toward the creek. Following the sound, Leo knew that he would eventually find the woman where Jinks had left her but he didn't want to think about what condition she might be in. Jimmy Cross Jimmy Cross was nearly invisible as he stood in the trees 25-yards behind the JFV headquarters and watch a man roughly grab a woman around the neck and drag her away crying. He couldn't see or hear his brothers but he knew they were nearby also witnessing the woman’s abuse. He’d seen the same guy jump through the window and shoot the other two men but that didn’t bother him as much as mistreating the woman. Without addressing his comment to anyone in particular, Jimmy spoke quietly. "That ain't right; a man orta not treat a woman like that. Somebody needs to put the fear of God in that little feller." Hearing no response, Jimmy understood that he was going to be that somebody and he silently began following Jinks. Spurlock going west on Highway 60 With headlights on high beam, Spurlock was cruising at a comfortable 50 mph in his new all-black Jeep Wrangler and listening to his favorite country music cd. He really liked this Jeep and thought he might just keep it when all this was over. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he thought about his amazing accomplishments. His so-called "partnership" with Danny Boy would soon be over as he would no longer have any use for the kid or his money. Spurlock was confident that he’d finally made his dream come true and he would soon be the richest man in the whole world. I’ve worked damn hard and kissed a lot of ass. I earned all that money, maybe even more. Spurlock thought about the cop that had been in the basement and felt sure he would be dead and the body disposed of by now. He’d told Jinks to take care of it before he left and he knew that Jinks could be counted on. Nevertheless, Spurlock thought he should check in and make sure everything was all right. After all, he was the boss and that was just part of being a good leader. Driving with one hand, he flipped his cell phone open and using speed dial called Jinks. He listened to it ring twice and then go silent. Looking at the phone, Spurlock saw the words no service on the screen. Usually he would have thought nothing of it because there were many dead spots in that area, but he could see the lights on the cellular tower from where he was. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his gut. Spurlock's paranoia hit him full force. He felt as though he was being watched and looked in his rearview mirror for any sign that he was being followed. Seeing nothing failed to ease his mind so he slowed down, more, and more, until finally, he was completely stopped. Spurlock quickly opened his door and stepped out onto the highway looking skyward, watching and listening for a helicopter. Still nothing. He stood in the dark and waited for a half-minute before getting back into the Jeep. Checking his cell phone again, Spurlock found that he still had no service and that reinforced his belief that something was wrong. Spurlock continued west on Highway 60, bypassing the small county road that he normally used as a shortcut to SR 992 that would take him to the compound. He knew where the sheriff's deputies hid in an attempt to catch speeders and he would only slow down near those places. Something is wrong, bad wrong. That thought kept playing over and over in Spurlock’s head as he entered Cloverport, city limits. A few minutes later, he left Cloverport on the Tar Springs Road heading for the locked gate and the compound. Quantico, VA Thompson watched the 72-inch screen and silently cursed the outdated night vision technology. Damnit to hell! It’s like looking through piss-yellow fog. He could see four of his agents at the front door preparing to enter the JFV headquarters and two more covering the back. "Where is Jinks? Is he still in there?" Thompson had not addressed that question to anyone in particular because he was confident that someone would answer. And they did. "Yes sir." Thompson saw a brilliant flash of light escape through the windows of the house and the four agents in front disappeared into the structure. Then, everything that could go wrong did. Somebody came out of the back of the house through a window behind his two men, and while the agents were focused on that person, somebody else jumped out and gunned them both down. Even through the yellow haze of night vision, Thompson recognized the gunman as Jinks and saw that the first person that had come out had been a woman. He watched helplessly while Jinks grabbed the woman and used her for a shield to get out of the yard and into a thicket. Thompson was momentarily stunned but quickly snapped out of it and issued an order. "Keep Jinks on thermal! I want that sonofabitch." After a moment, he added, “Green-light the snipers to take Jinks out.” Thompson focused his attention on the two men that were face down on the ground behind the house. It was impossible for him to determine their condition but he saw no movement and knew they might be dead. Thompson was certain that they were both wearing a Kevlar vest, but that was not a guarantee, and their heads had been unprotected. Why is it taking the others so damn long? A moment later he saw two agents jump out through the broken window and two come out through the back door. Within seconds, it was confirmed; both agents were dead. "Agent Thompson sir," Thompson's eyes swept the room and saw it was the agent in charge of monitoring Spurlock's tracking device that was calling to him. When the agent was sure he had Thompson's attention, he continued. "Spurlock is apparently heading for the compound but going in the back way." Thompson thought, something must have tipped him off. Addressing the agent in charge of monitoring the thermal imaging, Thompson asked, "Where is Jinks?" "Heading toward the ridge, and he no longer has the hostage." Thompson grimaced, fearing the worst for the hostage. "Where is Willard?" "He is with the hostage and going back toward the house." Good, maybe the hostage is okay, and Willard will stay with her. The last thing I need right now is a loose cannon running around out there. The agent in charge of monitoring the thermal imaging spoke. "Sir, there appears to be three unidentified subjects near the house." Thompson asked, "Where did they come from?" The young agent was obviously embarrassed. "I don't know. They just seemed to appear out of nowhere." Thompson didn't like unidentified people or loose ends in his operations. "I don't believe in Genies coming out of bottles. Watch them close; I want to know who they are." Thompson immediately picked up his phone and placed a call. Leo and Hal Leo continued following the sounds made by Jinks and the hysterical woman. The cloud that had gotten between the moon and the earth was either very large or very slow and Leo didn’t know which. What he did know was that it didn’t really matter; the results were the same. He tried to hurry through the darkness but he stumbled, tripped, and fell over everything and nothing until he was covered with scratches, scrapes, and cuts. When Leo finally found the Hispanic woman, he was relieved to see her physical condition wasn't too bad; emotionally however, she was a mess. At first, she was afraid of him and shrank away when he approached. Leo knew her fear was understandable and knew that he would stay and help her even if it meant that Jinks might get away. It took several minutes before she would allow Leo to help her stand and then she grabbed him and held on tight, crying hysterically. Leo was less than fluent in Spanish but understood enough of her blubbering to know that she had three small children in Mexico and was afraid she would never see them again. Leo managed to understand enough to know that she’d been told if she misbehaved, someone would kill her children. With the woman hanging onto his arm, Leo started back toward the house but met Hal and three other agents about halfway. One of them rushed forward and relieved Leo of the woman, speaking Spanish as if it was natural to him. Hal said, "I just talked to Thompson and found out that Spurlock is coming here the back way. I'm guessing that he and Jinks will run into each other up there, somewhere." Hal was looking around nervously. "Thompson also said there are three unidentified people out here someplace and he’ll give me a heads-up if they get close." Leo watched the agent talking to the frightened woman while gently walking her toward the house. The three unidentified people made him think about Tobias Morgan's three nephews and he wondered, but didn't say anything. Turning his eyes toward Hal, Leo said, "I don't know anything about the three unknowns, but you can bet your ass that Jinks is going to run into me up there somewhere too." Without taking his eyes off Leo, Hal spoke to the other two agents. "Hey, you two go help Frank get the Lady back to the house." He waited a moment giving the agents time to move away before speaking. Addressing Leo, Hal was shaking his head as he spoke. "Hey man, listen to my words, not my actions." He continued to shake his head and made pleading gestures with his arms. "Remember big brother? Well, they got eyes, but no ears. Act like you're arguing with me." Leo began making angry gestures but did not speak. Hal continued. "I was ordered to keep you here, even if I had to arrest you." He removed handcuffs from his pocket and then stepped behind Leo roughly jerking his arms around to his back. At the same time he said, "Spin-out and hit me. I will give you as much head start as I can; just make it look good." Leo did as instructed, and as he ran toward the ridge, he yelled back, "Thanks, I owe you one." Lying on the ground, Hal didn't make a verbal response, but he thought; I just hope we both live so I can collect that debt. Jinks on the run Jinks hadn't wanted to leave his hostage behind but finally decided he had to. The Hispanic cook had been useful and fun all afternoon, but not now. All the stupid bitch did was cry and pretend to be a scared little girl. She didn’t even fucking try to keep up. The scared little girl act had been a turn-on while he was raping her, but not now. It first, Jinks was going to kill her but then decided she was worth more to him alive. He knew that if he left the woman slightly injured that whoever was coming after him would stop to help her. That would buy him some time and it made her more valuable to him alive. Jinks had simply hit the woman in the face with his shotgun knocking her to the ground and then left her there crying and begging. Now that Jinks wasn't dragging a female anchor he was making good time. He was heading toward the ridge and wasn't worried about booby-traps; he knew where they were because he’d put them there. Jinks considered himself to be a well-trained professional mercenary, equal to, or better than, Rambo. He was not a Desert Storm veteran, or the veteran of any war, but it wasn't because he hadn't tried. All branches of the US military had turned him down and he’d convinced himself it was because of being too small. I’ll show ‘em how wrong they were; I’ll show ‘em all. Spurlock After leaving Cloverport on the Tar Springs Road, Russell Spurlock was going as fast as possible toward the compound. Fortunately, when Wess purchased that vehicle, he’d demanded for the Jeep to be maxed-out in tire size so that now this road was not a challenge. The driver however, was creating a challenge by pushing the line between almost safe and totally reckless. There was only one thought in Spurlock’s mind and it had nothing to do with the vehicle or his driving. Something is wrong at the compound, bad wrong. Spurlock was going too fast, when he hit a bump causing the Jeep to bounce sideways narrowly missing a deep rut that had washed-out with the last hard rain. Having no other choice Spurlock slowed, and a moment later, he could see something ahead, something that shouldn't be there. Russell Spurlock eased the Jeep up beside the vintage 1978 Dodge RAM pickup and stopped. Leaving his engine running, Spurlock got out and went to the back of the pickup, reached down and felt of the exhaust pipe. Finding it cold, he knew that the truck had been sitting there for a while. Spurlock frowned and spoke quietly, "OK Mr. Willard, if you're not already dead, you will be; one way or another." Getting back into the Jeep, Spurlock backed up until his headlights illuminated the rear of Leo's pickup. Getting out, Spurlock grabbed a large suitcase from the back of his Jeep and carried it to the front where he carefully placed it in a well-lit spot, opened it, and went to work. Within minutes, Spurlock had made a bomb using plastic explosives and a 12-volt detonator. Five minutes more, he had it fastened to the gas tank and wired to the brake lights. Satisfied, Spurlock put everything back in the Jeep and was on his way to the compound. If Willard gets damn lucky and gets passed all of us, and then makes it back to his fuckin’ truck, he'll just blow himself all to hell. Spurlock enjoyed that thought. Damn I’d like to see that. Maybe I’ll just let the old fucker escape. Hal Hal lay on the ground not moving and waited until he could no longer hear Leo running through the brush and then yelled for help. When the two agents got to him, Hal was in a sitting position and rubbing his jaw. One of the agents helped Hal stand while the other one stood guard with his weapon drawn. On his feet, Hal vigorously shook his head and said, "That SOB slugged me." The agent standing guard asked, "Which way did he go?" Rubbing his jaw, Hal said, "Don't know. I must've been out for a few seconds." The two agents that were helping Hal exchanged a look between them but neither one said anything. Hal continued to stagger and sway for another few seconds apparently having difficulty gaining his balance. Then Hal said, "OK, let's get 'em. Wait a minute! I just remembered; they've got land mines and Claymores set up all over that damn ridge. We'd better stay in the road." Quantico Thompson stood in front of the 72-inch screen and saw his best friend, Agent Hal Hackney, receive a left hook to the jaw knocking him to the ground. The young Agent Ponytail standing beside him gasped. "That looked like a hard hit." Without emotion Thompson said, "Looked that way." Agent Ponytail asked, "Think he's OK?" "I'd bet the farm on it." Thompson raised his voice, "Keep track of Willard on thermal." With a mixture of excitement and relief Agent Ponytail said, "Agent Hackney is getting up; he's alright." Thompson couldn’t stop the thought that flashed through his mind. The legend lives on. Then he asked, "Where the hell is everybody? Spurlock, Jinks, Willard; all the people I can't see." The agent in charge of thermal monitoring answered. "Spurlock stopped and got out of his vehicle for 17 minutes, I'm guessing to relieve himself, and then got back into his vehicle and is continuing toward the compound. Jinks is near the top of the ridge and is on a collision course with Spurlock. Willard is about 700 yards behind Jinks and closing." Thompson was still looking at the 72-inch screen but his mind was elsewhere. Just what I need, a damn wild card running on adrenaline and looking for revenge. He barked an order. "I want every available man on that ridge, but do not, anybody, for any reason, cross over it. That damn place is laced with booby-traps." The Army Communications Specialist assigned to keep track of the snipers updated Thompson. “Agent Thompson sir, we still have no communication with any of the four men.” Thompson mumbled something that no one understood. Leo Leo was too far behind and couldn't hear Jinks anymore but he thought he knew where Jinks was going. Leo was confident that he could catch his man before Jinks could get close to town. Leo was sure that's where Jinks was going because there was no other choice. Jinks needed a way out; someplace where he could steal a car and Cloverport was the closest place. Leo had discovered at an early age that he possessed exceptional night vision when he went camping with his dad and brothers. Tonight, with the three-quarter moon finally out, he could see well enough to run, as long as there was no cloud-cover. Other than the bullet lodged in his back, Leo was in exceptional physical condition, and with adrenaline concealing the pain, he was able to run nonstop to the ridge. At the ridge Leo stopped to catch his breath. He suddenly realized where he was and didn't want to see the mercenary with half his head blown away. He turned left toward the road, thinking that would be the safest route to take as far as the gate. Leo felt sure that there would be no booby-traps in the road on this side of the gate; it was the other side that had him worried. Jinks Jinks had turned left we got to the top of the ridge and then followed it to the old road where he turned right toward the gate. His breathing was labored, wheezing, he had a pain in his left side, and to top it all, he wanted a cigarette. Jinks cursed himself for allowing his body to get in this condition. A few years ago, I could've run all the way up here and not even noticed it. But that's okay. When Spurlock gets all that money, I can pay somebody else to do my running for me. Jinks was nearing the gate when he heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle coming toward him from the opposite direction. He stopped and listened carefully. Within a few seconds he’d positively identified the sound of slow moving tires crunching over dried mud about 200 yards in front of him, but there was no headlights. Stupid-ass feds. If they think they can catch me this way, they are even fucking dumber than I thought they were. Without hesitation, Jinks dashed off to the left side of the road. This was new territory to him and he didn’t like exploring, especially in the dark, but he had no choice. He knew there was a rock cliff on the other side. I'll just act like Daniel Boone for a little while. Spurlock After mounting the C4 bomb on Leo's pickup, Spurlock went another quarter-mile and then turned off the headlights. He was momentarily surprised at how dark it was and then remembered how close to the road and thick the trees were. He quickly realized that it would be nearly impossible for moonlight to penetrate the canopy and continued but at a slower speed. Reaching for a small toggle switch that he’d mounted beside the steering column, he also turned off the brake lights. Spurlock knew that he was passed the deepest washed-out ruts and was confident that by driving slow he could stay on the road. Besides, he didn't want the Jeep’s lights to announce to anyone that he was coming. Spurlock reasoned that the sneaky-ass cops were not going to play fair, so why should he. He knew that in the end, it was all about who won. One of the most important lessons he’d learned as a kid on the streets of Chicago was that it didn’t matter how he won, as long as he did. The Jeep quietly inched its way along the old road and Spurlock was glad that he’d resisted the urge to put loud mufflers on it. He knew that in his line of work the ability to move quietly was often important and sometimes a matter of life or death, his. He couldn't see it, but he knew that he was getting close to the final hill that had the gate at the top. Several minutes later, Spurlock felt gravity forcing him back against his seat and found it necessary to give the Jeep a little more gas to keep it moving. There was no doubt; he was going up that final steep hill. When Spurlock finally reached the gate, he got out and looked around but saw nothing. The gate was locked but the guard was gone and that reinforced his belief that there was trouble at the compound. Big trouble. Going to the back of the Jeep, Spurlock raised the false rear floorboard revealing a weapons locker. He grabbed an AK47 assault rifle, hesitated a moment, and then reached back in and came out with a Russian-made RPG-7 grenade launcher. Leaving the Jeep where it was, and the gate locked, Spurlock began walking down the middle of the road toward the compound. Leo Following the ridge to the road by moonlight was far more difficult than Leo had anticipated. The canopy made it nearly impossible for the moonlight to penetrate and he’d fallen once and tripped several times. Leo had cursed himself for being so clumsy and then he’d soothed his bruised ego by reminding himself that he was accustomed to desert terrain, not forest. When Leo finally stepped out of the trees onto the road, the moonlight rushed to the ground unobstructed and it was as if someone had flipped a switch turning on the lights. The pain caused by the .22 caliber bullet in his back was becoming impossible to ignore and he was going to have to rest soon. Leo started toward the gate in an easy jogging pace that he’d learned from an Apache Indian while stationed in Arizona. This pace would quickly eat away the miles without eating away at the runner. He’d only gone 100-yards when he saw Jinks dash across the road in front of him. Leo stopped, stood motionless for a heartbeat, and then jumped sideways into a ditch overgrown with weeds. In a squatting position with weeds towering over his head, Leo waited, watched, and listened. After only two minutes in that position, the pain was making it difficult to remain motionless. Leo started to stand when movement caught his attention and he forced himself to stay where he was. In less than a minute, he saw Spurlock in the road walking toward him carrying an AK47 and what appeared to be a shoulder held grenade launcher. Leo melted soundlessly into the trees further from the road and then cautiously watched Spurlock go passed. He looked at the Sig-Sauer in his hand and considered it. Leo figured that Spurlock was probably wearing a Kevlar vest, and that meant it would require a head shot to stop him. Leo was not confident in his ability to make that shot with a handgun in the dark but he was positive that if he missed there would be no way for him to escape the AK47 that Spurlock was carrying. Leo found himself faced with a dilemma. He wanted Jinks; no, he needed to get Jinks, and if he didn't go after him now he knew that Jinks might get away. Spurlock, on the other hand, was heading for the compound armed with an RPG. Spurlock could potentially kill dozens of people including his friend, Hal Hackney. Leo didn't really have a choice, and he knew it; Spurlock had to be stopped. Staying in the weeds and bushes beside the road, Leo quietly slipped along staying 100-feet behind Spurlock. Leo noticed how the extremely white skin on Spurlock's shaved head seemed to shin in the moonlight almost like a fluorescent bulb. Leo made a mental note to himself. I’ll laugh about it later, if I live until later. When they reached the steepest part of the hill, Spurlock simply marched on down the road toward the compound but Leo was forced to stop. Leo was facing a huge pile of dirt, rocks, fallen trees, old wire fencing, and other debris made by a bulldozer. He’d played on dozer-piles when he was a kid and knew how dangerous they could be. He’d seen one of his friends receive a broken leg when something under him moved enough to open a deep hole. Leo knew that he couldn't risk climbing over it, wouldn't risk going around it in the road, and that left only one other option. Turning his back on the road, Leo followed the edge of the dozer pile expecting it to be less than 50 yards to the end. More than 100 yards later, Leo came to an area where the dozer-pile consisted entirely of large rocks and he felt safe climbing over. He was confident that these rocks were heavy enough to support his weight without moving. Leo had just gotten off the rocks and had both feet firmly on the ground when he heard someone yelling. The yelling was immediately followed by a burst of gunfire and Leo recognized the distinctive sound of an AK47. The gunfire was interrupted by someone shouting in anger. "Ah! Shit! Goddamit!" Leo was certain that the burst of gunfire and the angry shouting had come from Spurlock. He couldn't imagine what had pissed Spurlock off; he was just happy to know that something had. Leo was making his way toward the road when a cloud passed overhead blocking the moonlight and forcing him to stand still. He looked up and saw that it was a small cloud and moving fast; he would wait. In less than a half-minute, the cloud was gone and Leo could once again see. He started to take a step when the strangest thing happened; his stomach growled. Not like a hungry growl, but a deep rumbling sound that reminded Leo of Tye's warning growl. Leo had promised himself that he would never ignore Tye’s warning again and he intended to keep that promise regardless of how crazy it seemed. Honoring his promise, Leo stood perfectly still searching the area for danger. After a moment, he sensed rather than saw, a flicker of movement 30-feet in front of him. Focusing on that spot, Leo could make out the shape of a man lying prone under a small bush. Thanks Tye. The man appeared to be wearing an all black outfit, and was lying in a typical prone shooting position. I think I found a sniper. But whose, FBI or mercenary? Leo thought about it for a moment, and then decided he didn't really care. He had no intention of killing the man, but he did want the rifle, and he would have it. Combining what he’d learned in the military with what his Apache friends had taught him, Leo was confident in his ability to get what he wanted. He took a small step to his left and sat on a rock where he quickly and quietly removed his hiking boots and socks. Tying his bootlaces together, Leo hung his boots around his neck, stood, and then shoved the socks into his pants pocket. The cool ground against Leo's bare feet brought back a flood of memories: some good, and some not. At that moment, he didn't have time to deal with old memories, good or bad; he needed to make new ones. Leo inched forward taking small steps. He carefully picked each spot where his foot would go without making any sound and didn’t allow his heels to touch the ground. When he was standing over the sniper, there was a fleeting moment that Leo felt sorry for the man if he truly was FBI. Then Leo thought about it. He knew that even if the man was an FBI sniper, he would shoot Leo or anyone else if he were told to, and do it without hesitation or thought. At that moment, the sniper seemed to sense Leo's presents but it was too late because Leo's pistol was already on its way toward the back of the sniper's head. A moment later, he’d found and disabled a communication device and then using the sniper's own bootlaces, Leo quickly had the man secured. Within minutes, Leo was on his way to the road but now he was armed with a very nice rifle and the best night vision scope on the market. Steve and Billy Cross The brothers had all left the trees behind the JFV headquarters after they’d witnessed Jinks being abusive to the woman. Jimmy had followed the small man to administer mountain justice while Steve and Billy moved to higher ground where they could see everything better. When Spurlock began firing, Steve had no choice about stopping him because a friend of a friend was in danger. After Steve fired, Billy turned to his brother and spoke in anger. "Hey man, you promised." In a calming voice Steve said, "Relax, I didn't hurt the freak none; just pissed him off some." Billy looked back in time to see Spurlock on his feet moving away from the road and the anger he’d felt was instantly gone. Hal Hal and the other two FBI agents were in the center of the road jogging toward the ridge. They were nearly halfway when the cell phone in Hal's pocket vibrated and he breathlessly answered it without slowing down. He listened for a moment and then quietly got the attention of the other two agents. Speaking quietly, Hal said, "Hit the ditch; Spurlock is coming straight at us." All three agents silently vanished with two going left and Hal moving to the right side of the road. Both sides were equally overgrown with weeds and bushes which made it easy to hide. For several minutes, there were only the normal summer night sounds of nature. The nightly serenade of crickets, a frog calling for a mate somewhere along the creek, the eerie voice of an owl, and then, suddenly, the sounds of nature were shattered. Agent Franklin Hayes, on the left side of the road, began shrieking, thrashing about, and then stumbled out onto the road. He was holding his arm and frantically yelling, "Snake! Goddamn thing bit me, twice!" With no hesitation, Hal rushed out and tackled Agent Hayes knocking him to the ground. With his arms locked around Agent Hayes, Hal began rolling until together the two agents rolled off the road into the ditch. Before the two men had stopped rolling, they heard a burst of gunfire and easily recognized the distinctive sound of an AK47. A hail of 7.62 bullets dug trenches in the dirt road where they had been a second earlier. Hal realized that they were back in the ditch with the snake, but he'd had no other choice. All he could do now was hope that the snake wasn't as deadly as the AK47. Whack "Ah! Shit! Goddamit!" All three agents in the snake-infested ditch had heard the whack sound and then the man's voice. The sounds had come from about 30-yards in front of them and Hal was sure that it had to be Spurlock. Hal was convinced that the whack sound had been caused by a snipers' bullet striking a Kevlar vest and he was equally as sure that Spurlock would be gone. The cell phone in Hal's pocket vibrated and he hesitated not wanting to answer it. Finally, on the third ring, Hal willed himself to open the phone and listen to what Thompson had to say. "What kind of sick fucking game are you guys playing?" Thompson was yelling, but it was caused by fear instead of anger. "I've already got two dead agents, I don't need any more. What the hell was…" "Hayes got a snakebite; two of 'em." Hal cut Thompson off in mid sentence. Hal had done his homework and was familiar with the kinds of poisonous snakes in Kentucky. He was certain that in their present location it would be either a rattlesnake or a copperhead. Hayes had assured him that he hadn't heard a rattlesnake's warning so Hal believed it was probably a copperhead. Hal knew that healthy adults rarely died from a copperhead bite but Agent Hayes had managed to get two. After a slight pause of surprise, Thompson came back on the phone sounding concerned. "Spurlock took off, so you're clear. Take Agent Hayes back to the house; there are medical personnel standing by." Quantico Thompson disconnected from the call with Special Agent Hal Hackney and silently continued gazing at the thermal imaging monitor. The heat signatures indicated that three people were slowly going toward the house and it appeared that two of the men were almost carrying the third. Thompson was watching but not seeing. In his mind's eye, he saw his 19-year-old granddaughter, Stacey. Just last week, Agent Franklyn Hayes and Stacey had gotten engaged and now he was injured: possibly critical. "Agent Thompson sir?" Thompson looked up to see who was calling him and saw Agent Ponytail looking at him and holding up three fingers. "NSA, line three," she said. Although Thompson disliked Cloyd Wilkerson, and his National Security Agency, this time he wanted to take his call. After listening to what Cloyd Wilkerson had to say, Thompson hesitated, and then said something that he didn't believe would ever come out of his mouth. "Good work Cloyd; thanks," and he meant it. Thompson replaced the phone and then looked around the room and saw that everyone was looking at him expectantly. Without expression, he answered their unasked question. "We got 'em, all three of them." Thompson paused for a moment while everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief. Then said, "Tell the snipers they've got the go. We don't need the SOBs alive anymore." Thompson tried to turn his attention back to the snakebite victim but he was bothered by something. There was something about the three houseboats that Wilkerson’s men had found that didn't sound right. But what? All 24-pounds of that damn RX11-3 was recovered, but all 24-pounds had been on two of the houseboats. They found one of the houseboats parked at the Harborside Marina in the Illinois River 60 miles from Chicago and it was clean. No nuclear waste, no explosives, no anything, but mostly, no reason for being there. That bothered Thompson. Everything else had been done with precision and he couldn't believe that one houseboat had no purpose. Agent Thompson phoned Cloyd Wilkerson and asked about that one abandoned houseboat. A few seconds into the conversation, Thompson understood that Wilkerson didn't care why the one boat had no obvious reason for being there. Cloyd Wilkerson quickly ended the call by saying, "Hey man, don't piss on my parade." Agent Thompson understood that left it up to the FBI to find the answers and he got his people working on it immediately. The Army Communications Specialist spoke from across the room. "Agent Thompson sir, we may have a problem. I’ve tried repeatedly to contact all four of our snipers and they still don’t respond. I can’t be 100% sure that they can hear me.” Thompson didn't like what he was hearing. Equipment malfunctions should not happen at all, but for all of them to crap-out at the same time... The three unexplained thermal images drifted into his mind and he didn't like that either. Jinks lost Jinks stumbled and almost fell, again. This Daniel Boone shit is for the fucking birds. In his rush to get away from the vehicle near the gate, Jinks had not paid attention to which direction he was going. He was now hopelessly lost and on the verge of panic. A half-hour earlier, he was going to stop and wait for daylight but then he'd heard a pack of coyotes howling and believed they were tracking him. Jinks had been hearing stories about some critters known locally as coy-dogs and about how dangerous they were. Supposedly, a wandering male dog would mate with a coyote bitch and produce critters that were bigger, meaner, smarter, and had no fear of humans. Now, every time he stopped to rest, Jinks was certain that he could hear the coy-dogs circling him. This damn place is full of them. Maybe we been blowing-up fuckin’ coy-dogs instead of regular dogs. That thought triggered the next one. And now the rest of the fuckin’ pack is looking at me for revenge. Sweat ran freely down Jinks’ face and soaked his shirt causing it to stick to the outside of the Kevlar vest. The inside of the vest was also soaked with sweat causing it to stick against his skin in some places and rub blisters in others. Not enough air could reach his body causing Jinks to overheat and that caused him to stumble and trip over everything and nothing. The forest was so thick here the moonlight could not reach the ground making it nearly impossible to see. Jinks imagined the mosquitoes draining his body of blood before the coy-dogs had their feast and then the other insects would eat what was left causing him to disappear without a trace. This was only one of many thoughts spinning around in his dehydrated mind. Jinks wasn't sure, but he thought he’d gone at least five miles and might be getting close to town. I can get some wheels easy; almost nobody locks the doors and some of those stupid fuckers even leave the keys in the ignition. With that thought fresh in his mind, Jinks fought his way through the thick underbrush and stumbled head first into a huge blackberry patch. To him, it seemed like the long sticky fingers of a monster were closing into a fist and trapping him in the middle. The panic that the rational mind had held at bay, now took over. Twisting and thrashing Jinks stumbled and would have fallen but the fingers held him upright. The harder he fought, the tighter the monster held him, and that caused him to fight even harder. At last, Jinks pulled free from the tentacles of the monster and then realized that at some point in his effort to escape, he’d lost his prized shotgun. There was not one square inch of exposed flesh that wasn't cut and bleeding, his clothes were shredded and barely hanging on to his battered body. In a daze, Jinks took a few steps backward keeping his eyes on the thing that had caused him so much pain, but on the fourth step, his foot found nothing but air. Jimmy Cross Jimmy Cross was doubled over with silent laughter. For fear of falling, he sat on the ground and pulled the black hood from his sweat-soaked head. In all the years I been tormentin' them big-city deer hunters that show up here every year, I ain't never had this much fun. This little feller's a hoot and he ain’t right bright. He’s been makin' so much noise that a real coyote wouldn’t be within miles of here, but this stupid-ass city boy don't know that. Jimmy had been practicing his coyote sounds but he still wasn't very good at it and this city boy didn't know that either. Every time Jinks had tried to stop to catch his breath, Jimmy would throw sticks and make sounds that frightened Jinks into moving. Jimmy knew that the best things in life were the unexpected ones and that huge blackberry bush was definitely the icing on Jimmy's cake. Not only had Jinks gotten tangled up in the briars, but he’d dropped his shotgun, and now less than a mile from where he’d started, Jinks was done. Jimmy examined his new shotgun and was surprised to find that it was chambered for three-inch magnums. This thing will put meat on the table. Jimmy finally got his laughter under control and stood. He put the black hood over his head so that only his eyes were visible and then silently eased over to the edge of the washed-out gully. Jimmy was familiar with this area and knew that it was only a six-foot drop and was sure that Jinks wouldn't be badly hurt. Looking down at Jinks, Jimmy saw that he’d rolled across to the opposite side and was near a horizontal crevice. A devilish idea flashed into his mind which created the need for another laughter break. When Jimmy stopped laughing and was able to move quietly, he eased down to where Jinks was lying. First, he checked to make sure Jinks was really unconscious and then found and removed the extra shotgun shells. He stuffed the six shells in his pocket and then gave Jinks an extra thump on the head before stuffing him into a tight narrow crevice in the rock ledge. Jimmy stepped back to carefully examine his work and was satisfied with what he saw. Jimmy thought it was time to rejoin his brothers so he could show-off his new shotgun and felt giddy knowing they would be jealous. Jimmy didn't know exactly where his brothers were but he was sure Steve would have gone to higher ground so they could see better. He also knew the terrain and there were only two places that would serve that purpose. In Jimmy’s way of thinking, he had a 50-percent chance of getting it right the first time and a 100-percent chance after that. He thought about where they’d been when he’d separated from his brothers and chose the high place easiest to get to from there. A half-hour later, Jimmy knew that he’d guessed right the first time. He couldn't see his brothers but he could feel their presents and he also felt something else: something uncomfortable, like he was being watched. Spurlock A sniper; they’ve got a fucking sniper. Spurlock was angry, indignant, and thoroughly pissed-off at the idea that the cops would be that sneaky and under-handed. I don't know why I'm surprised. I should’ve known the Fucking Bunch of Idiots wouldn't play fair. Why would I expect better from any kind of cops? Spurlock had instantly known what happened. He’d been firing on full auto and hadn’t heard the report of a gunshot but he had heard the whack sound of a bullet striking his vest and instantly felt the stabbing pain. After that, everything he’d done was either instinct or training or a combination of the two. When the sniper’s bullet hit, Spurlock had rolled off the road and into the ditch. Checking himself, he’d quickly found that due to the Kevlar vest, he wasn’t injured and immediately ran a few yards to a gully where he dove headfirst landing on sun-baked earth and rocks. Then he’d belly-crawled the rest of the way until he was 200-yards from the road lying on his stomach among a bunch of thick bushes. Spurlock started cursing himself for not bringing his night vision equipment but then decided it didn't really matter. All he needed to do was get close enough to the house to get a clear shot with the RPG and he could take out most of the cops with that one shot. The stupid bastards will be holed up in there with my air conditioner where it's nice and comfy. They might even be poking the woman that I paid for. That thought made him angry, not because he had feelings for the woman, but because cops might be having fun with a toy that belonged to him. With more determination than before, Spurlock began crawling in the direction of the house being careful to stay hidden from potential snipers. Leo Before Leo stepped out of the bushes he put his shoes back on and then used the night vision scope to look for Spurlock. He didn't see a person, but he did see something. Waiting until after he’d searched the whole area, Leo put the rifle down and then lay flat on his stomach. Using his hands to pull and toes to push, he scooted onto the road going all the way to the center. He could see several brass shell casings and he closed his hand around one and then quickly rolled off the road into the ditch. Examining the shell casing by moonlight, Leo was positive that it was a 7.62mm from an AK47. I was right; those shots did come from an AK. Leo didn't know what Spurlock had been shooting at and didn't have time to find out. He had to stop Spurlock before he fired that RPG and killed a bunch of people. Leo lay in the ditch thinking about what his Apache friend had told him about the art of tracking. About finding something missing that should be there or finding something there that shouldn't be. Any kind of disturbance to the earth that wasn't caused by nature would be a track. Leo rolled onto his back and looked up at the stars thinking about the daunting task of tracking Spurlock. It felt good to just lie in the ditch and not move; Leo was tired and now the pain was a continuous throb. He listened to the night sounds of nature: crickets, frogs, a distant owl, and a gentle breeze that allowed the trees to whisper their secrets. As he listened to the leaves rustling overhead, he distinctly heard the word, house, house being whispered over and over. At first, Leo was startled, but then he understood and spoke quietly. "Thanks Cora honey; you're still looking out for me just like always." Ignoring the throbbing pain, Leo sat up and carefully scanned the area before starting off. He didn't have to attempt tracking Spurlock because now he knew where to find him. Hal Helping Agent Hayes get to the JFV headquarters, Hal had been puked on twice and then had to literally carry Hayes after he’d passed out. Handing Agent Hayes over to the paramedics, Hal waited until he was told that Hayes was going to be okay. While everyone was focused on the snakebite victim, Hal slipped out of the house and as he exited, he’d helped himself to some night vision goggles that someone had left unattended. Hal wanted Spurlock even more now than before. Putting the goggles on as he went, Hal hurried up the road toward Spurlock's last known position. In his haste, he hadn't thought about picking out a more appropriate weapon and all he had was his personal handgun, a 10mm Glock 20. He wouldn't take the time to go back now, and as he limped across the bridge, Hal thought about how lucky he was to be alive. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly; he was confident that Leo would take care of Mr. Jinks. Hal slowed his pace as he rounded the curve and started the uphill climb toward where Spurlock had been 20 minutes earlier. He was staying close to the edge of the road so he could dive for cover if necessary but he wanted to stay out of the ditch if possible. Hal had been one of only two boys in the sixth grade that didn't like snakes, and as he got bigger, so did his dislike for the slithering reptiles. Suddenly, Hal detected a flicker of movement in the weeds 150 feet ahead and 25 feet off the left side of the road. He squatted and remained motionless; focusing his attention on the spot where he thought he’d seen movement and waited. Nothing happened for more than a minute and Hal was about to stand when he saw it again. This time he was sure as the figure of a man took shape. He waited and watched for another half-minute and then moved off the road to the right. Hal was well hidden behind a bush and continued watching the man coming toward him. He could see well enough to know the man was carrying a rifle and wearing foliage camouflage. Hal knew that the FBI snipers were dressed in the official flat black night camouflage; this guy was definitely not FBI. Hal was confident in his marksmanship abilities and he knew that he could easily make a head shot at 25 feet. The target was moving toward him and would soon be in the kill zone; he'd wait. The cell phone in Hal's pocket vibrated. Not now, damnit. Hal waited until the third ring hoping that whoever it was would give up. They didn't. On the fourth, he opened the phone but didn't speak. "Hey, don't say anything; stay quiet. The guy you are ambushing is your buddy, Leo Willard, and I want you to arrest him. And don't play another game of charades; you're not any good at it." Hal listened to Thompson's voice and then the click ending the call; he knew there was no choice. As much as he hated the idea of arresting Leo, he was equally thankful that Thompson had called. He would much rather handcuff a friend than bury one. Hal waited until Leo was close, and then spoke. "Hey Leo, it's me Hal." Startled, Leo spun around waving the rifle in the direction of Hal's voice before his brain registered what he'd heard. Leo spoke frantically, "Hey man, can you contact your people in the house?" Hal knew from the sound of Leo's voice that something was terribly wrong. "Yeah, what's up?" "Spurlock's got a RPG." Quantico Thompson was shifting his weight from right foot to left foot every few seconds creating a slight rocking motion as he watched the 72-inch screen. He was looking through the yellowish mist of the night vision cameras at the JFV headquarters and was completely confused by what he was seeing. It appeared as if his agents, the medical personnel, two of which were carrying Agent Hayes on a stretcher, were evacuating the house on a run as if they’d discovered a bomb. This made no sense to Thompson. He knew that the FBI’s Explosive Detection Team, (EDT), had already cleared the house and those guys didn’t make mistakes. The cell phone in Thompson's hand vibrated. Without any preamble, Agent Hackney asked, "Where's Spurlock?" Thompson noted the urgency in Hal's voice and didn't waste time by asking questions. He took two steps to his left and looked at the thermal imaging monitor. "300-yards behind the house in a thicket." The only response Thompson heard was the click of the call being disconnected. Thompson looked up at the 72-inch screen in time to see the yellow fog of night vision flash blinding white. He was so stunned that he almost failed to notice the cell phone in his hand vibrate. It was Agent Hackney's excited voice. "Spurlock has a RPG. The house is gone and we think he has one more round." Without hesitation, Thompson barked his orders. "Get my people out of there; now! Not more than two visible occupants per vehicle." Spurlock Spurlock was jumping up and down and clapping his hands like a three-year-old child. He started laughing so hard that within seconds there were tears of joy running down his cheeks. Moments before, he’d fired the RPG at the house and hit it as planned, but it was what happened next that had made it so very special. Within the first few seconds of the house exploding, the large propane tank beside the house also exploded sending flames and bits and pieces into the clouds. This is great! Southern fried Feds. The most fun I've had in forever. Ain't no way any damn cop can live through that. --- What the fuck? On the road a quarter-mile passed the house, Spurlock saw headlights and the red glow of tail lights flash on. The lights appeared to be coming from a caravan of vehicles driving away from the burning house. He stood motionless with his mouth open trying to understand what had gone wrong. The Cross brothers Steve Cross stood on a cliff overlooking the creek bottoms where the ranch style house had been a moment before. Although it was more than 50-yards away, he needed to raise his arm to shield his face from the heat of the flames. Standing beside Steve, Billy said, "What the… What happened?" At that moment, Steve realized how dangerous Spurlock really was and turned to face Billy. Pulling the black hood off his head, he said, "Okay, pop him." Billy's eyes lit up. He’d brought his fancy new rifle and was anxious to try it out. "You mean ol' Slick Head?" "Yeah." Without a sound, Billy seemed to dissipate into the darkness. Jimmy gave his younger brother time to get out of earshot before quietly saying what was on his mind. "I know he can do it, but I think we should go along and back him up." Without a verbal response, Steve replaced the black hood and silently disappeared into the night. Jinks Jinks felt a stinging pain over his entire body. Oh, shit, shit, shit. This is like the time when I was 12 and tried to steal honey out of that hollow tree. I didn’t know there was that many goddamn bees in the whole fuckin’ world. He attempted to move his shoulder into a more comfortable position and a searing pain flashed through his head causing his stomach to churn. Jinks lay still and waited for the nausea to pass and the shooting pain to subside, and then he tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he could remember was getting free from the giant blackberry bush, and then, nothing. Another minute passed before Jinks realized that his eyes were closed, but when he opened them, it made no difference at all. He blinked several times and still could see nothing. Fuck, I'm blind! Jinks knew he was lying on his back with his arms at his side and wanted to try putting his hand in front of his face to see if he could see it. Moving one hand, Jinks discovered that it was only three inches from his chest to whatever was covering him. A coffin? No, I can feel pain. In Hell? Jinks moved his hand up to inspect what was over him and thought it felt like rock. Digging at it with his fingers caused small pieces to break off and fall on his face. I'm fuckin’ buried alive! Panic overtook Jinks and he experienced a fear unlike any he’d ever known. Sweat broke out soaking his entire body causing the stinging pain to worsen. The increased pain fueled the panic and Jinks began clawing madly at the rock over his face. Oblivious to the damage to his fingers or the additional pain, Jinks kept digging at the rock. With fingernails torn partially off and blood oozing from his fingertips, sheer desperation took over. Jinks' body began thrashing wildly as if from electrical current. Twisting and kicking, Jinks suddenly felt himself rolling over and over before finally stopping face down in cold water. He quickly sat up, and then wincing from the pain, looked around. The trees overhead parted enough to allow the moonlight to shine through and Jinks could easily see where he was. He was in a spring-fed gully that was six-feet deep and three-feet wide with only a trickle of water. When he stood, the dull throbbing pain in his head instantly became a flash of white-hot lightning and he crumpled back to the ground hacking, heaving, and puking. Ten minutes later, with his stomach empty, Jinks was ready to try again to stand but this time he did it slowly. He found the egg-size lump on the back of his head and packed it with a cool compress made of moss and mud. When he finally got all the way erect so he could see, it wasn't difficult to figure out what had happened. The huge blackberry bush that he’d fought his way through was at the edge of the gully. Jinks surmised that he’d stepped off into the gully, hit his head rendering him unconscious, and then rolled under the rock ledge. At least it made sense to him that it had happened that way. Quantico "Agent Thompson sir, Jinks has resurfaced and is on the move. The unknown has not returned." Another agent said, "I've got all three unknowns over here." Thompson nodded his head and mentally patted himself on the back. Earlier, when they’d told him that Jinks had disappeared from the thermal monitor, he’d told the agent to continue focusing on the spot where Jinks had disappeared. Thompson knew that people didn't simply disappear like magic and that Jinks would probably be back. "Which way is he going?" The agent in charge of thermal tracking answered, "I don't know yet, sir." Thompson turned back to the 72-inch screen and continued watching the line of vehicles leaving the JFV headquarters. When his people were safely out of range of the RPG, he asked his question again. "Which way is Jinks going?" The thermal tracking agent assigned to Jinks hesitated and then stammered. "I, I, can't tell. He---he---oh hell, I don't know." The exasperation in his voice was clear. Thompson stepped over to view the monitor himself and punched the mapping button. A crazy zigzagging circular line instantly appeared on the monitor that retraced Jinks' steps from where he’d started to where he was now. Thompson spoke softly in amazement, "That stupid SOB is lost." Issuing an order he said, "Watch him. If he figures out where in the hell he's going, let me know." "Agent Thompson sir, Spurlock is on the move." Hal and Leo Hal and Leo stood side-by-side on the road watching the remains of the house being consumed by fire. The line of taillights moving away told them that the other agents had gotten out in time. Hal was having difficulty coming to terms with what he knew he had to do now. I don't want to arrest a friend for interfering because if Leo had not interfered… That's it! Hal turned to face Leo. "Play along. Face me. Now argue. I'm going to handcuff you, but don't resist." Leo trusted Hal and did what was asked. When the handcuffs were loosely in place, Leo watched his friend remove a cell phone from his pocket. Hal took two steps away from Leo and punched numbers on the phone. Hal said, "Hey, we've got a problem here. Willard swears he’ll go to the press if I bring him in.” Listening. “Yeah I know.” Listening. “Hell yeah, we found all three bombs, but only because Willard told us where to look, and he was the one that told me about the RPG.” Paused but heard nothing. “Think about it, for the first time in history all the agencies in this country worked together, and right now we are all gonna ride the glory train; but if Willard goes to the press, you can bet your ass that glory train will turn into the Titanic." Hal listened to silence for a long moment while Thompson seemed to be digesting this information. Thompson exhaled a breath he’d been holding into the phone. "OK, cut him loose and then ask him in a nice way to stand down. If that doesn’t work, tell him it's an order." Hal smiled, he knew that he’d won. "I don't think he'll do it." "Yeah, I know, but if he gets his fool head shot off, at least I can say I tried." "Yes sir," Hal said before closing the phone. Spurlock Spurlock was more than pissed-off, more than irate, he was... He didn’t know how the Feds had found out what he’d intended to do, but apparently, they had. That was bad enough, but what really got under his skin was how they’d sneaked away without using headlights until they were out of range. It’s like they know where I’m at and what I’m doing. They even know I’ve got this damn RPG. A thought slowly wormed its way into Spurlock’s mind and he raised his eyes skyward. Now he understood; he was being watched. These mother fuckin' Feds think they're so goddamn smart; wait 'til they see what I can do. Spurlock turned and started toward the ridge-top with a purpose; he knew they couldn’t see him through the trees. First, I’ll disappear; then, while the stupid fuckers are tripping over themselves trying to find me, I’ll get my Jeep and go to town. He had one more 70mm rocket for the RPG and he intended to pick his next target carefully. Now that Spurlock knew there were FBI snipers, he would stay out of sight from them too. He grinned with his next thought. They don’t know that I know. They might be able to slow me down some, but they can't stop me. Spurlock silently chuckled. Wham bam thank you ma’am, the Feds just got fucked. Jinks When Jinks was finally able to start walking he discovered that he was completely disoriented and had no idea which way to go. Because he hurt all over, and the least physical exertion made everything hurt more, Jinks took the path of least resistance and he’d been wandering aimlessly in no clear direction. Hearing a tremendous explosion, Jinks stopped walking and then he felt shockwaves in the air. For a moment, a feeling of pure joy allowed him to forget about the pain because he knew what had happened. Before leaving the house, he’d gone to the basement and cut the propane gas line going to the furnace. Then, using an old plastic garden hose, he’d routed the gas into the ductwork. A smile crossed his face because he hadn't been sure it would work at all. The plan had been for a spark or pilot light to ignite the gas and the only thing that could have gone wrong would have been for someone to smell the gas and shut it off. That obviously hadn’t happened. Jinks’ buck-toothed smile widened even more when he realized that because of the explosion, he had regained his bearings. He didn't know precisely where he was, but now he knew which way to go. Quantico Thompson was looking at the 72-inch screen and watched Agent Hal Hackney remove the handcuffs from Leo Willard. Thompson was trying hard not to smile in front of the other agents because he knew that he’d been played; actually, he’d been expecting it. Thompson knew that, in fact, he would have been a little disappointed with Agent Hackney if he’d failed to think of using a media threat. "Agent Thompson sir, Jinks appears to know where he's going and he will soon intersect with the old Tar Springs Road." Before Thompson could respond, another agent said, "It looks like Spurlock is going there too and all three unknowns seem to be following him.” The Army Communication Specialist spoke. “Do you want me to try again to contact our snipers?" Thompson quickly replied, "No, don’t bother. I'll take care of it." Thompson was convinced that the three unknowns had taken out three of the snipers and he knew for a fact that Leo Willard had taken out the fourth. Opening his cell phone, and using speed dial, it was only a matter of seconds before Thompson spoke. "Spurlock and Jinks are on their way to the Tar Springs Road north of the gate. There are three unknowns a few minutes behind them.” Hal and Leo Hal folded his cell phone and shoved it into his pocket before turning to Leo. "Let's go. Jinks and Spurlock are headed for the road just passed the gate." Nothing more was said or needed to be said. They both turned and started jogging up the hill. Spurlock When Spurlock got to the ridge, he stopped and considered which way he should go. He wanted to turn left and follow the ridge to the road, but he felt sure that the feds would have that area covered. Spurlock knew that there were several booby-traps on the other side of the ridge because he’d ordered Jinks to put them there. He also knew that Jinks was good with booby-traps, but he was confident that he was better. With a feeling of superiority, Spurlock started over the ridge and into the minefield. Jinks Thanks to the explosion, Jinks had been able to set his course for the Tar Springs Road. He hoped it wasn't far because his head throbbed and the sweat oozing out of every pore on his body ran into the multitude of cuts left behind by the monster blackberry bush. He’d also managed to somehow damage one knee enough to make it difficult to walk and was now using a stick to help support his weight. Jinks checked his watch and was surprised to find that it was only 11:04. He decided that this was, without a doubt, the longest night of his life. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat and he was convinced that he had a concussion. Jinks worked his way toward the top of the ravine and hopefully the road. Grabbing onto low hanging tree limbs, small bushes, weeds, or anything else that he could reach, Jinks pulled and tugged his way forward. Nearing the end of his strength, he stepped on a moss-covered tree root and lost his footing. When he finally stopped sliding, Jinks found himself lying in a crumpled heap against a soggy rotten stump at the bottom of the gully where he’d started. Jinks made no attempt to get up and was satisfied to just lie there and rest. He thought about other places in the world he'd gone as a mercenary; particularly the seven months he'd spent in the jungles of Columbia, and the more than one year in the Congo. He’d believed that these two places were undoubtedly the worst in the world, until he came to Kentucky. This god-awful terrain is for shit, and then there is the stupid fuckin' inbred hillbillies. No wonder there's only 33 goddamn people per square mile; nobody in their right motherfuckin' mind would want to live here. While Jinks lay at the bottom of the ravine silently cursing Kentucky and feeling sorry for himself, he heard another explosion, but this time it was smaller and closer, much closer. Jinks recognize the hollow pop that accompanied the loud bang and knew that it had come from a Bouncing Betty landmine. That sound made him happy for two reasons; (1) one of his booby-traps had caught a trespasser, probably a Fed, (2) it had come from the top of the hill in front of him. Knowing for sure that the road was that close gave him the will to go on. Hal and Leo Hal was hunkered down in a patch of weeds beside the road and Leo was 10-feet off to his left in a similar position. They were both still breathing hard and sweating profusely from the run up the hill. They’d accidentally found Spurlock's Jeep moments before and were waiting for him to show up. Their sweat was attracting hordes of hungry mosquitoes making it difficult to remain still and quiet. Nevertheless, they were happy to provide the insects a meal because they knew that if Spurlock found them it would undoubtedly be a lot worse. Suddenly, there was an explosion on the other side of the road; the ground shook under their feet and a brief flash of light lit the trees. The hair on the back of Leo's neck rose up and he felt the skin on both sides of his spine crawl. His body remembered the distinct sound of a landmine and caused him to have a Vietnam flashback. He was positive that he’d heard fragments of something hitting the trees behind him. Hal had also served in the military and was familiar with the sound of a Bouncing Betty. He was positive that he could smell burned flesh and the metallic odor of blood. He couldn't control the pictures that flashed through his mind and was grateful that it only lasted a few seconds. Both Hal and Leo held their positions and were unsure about what to do next. The shockwaves in the air dispersed the mosquitoes making it easier not to move, so they waited. A minute later, the cell phone in Hal's pocket vibrated. Hal listened, and then after a moment of silence said, "It couldn't happen to a more deserving guy." He listened for another moment and then without saying anything more, closed the phone. Facing Leo, Hal spoke in a quiet voice. "That was Spurlock that went boom. Jinks is 500-yards north of here and almost to the road." Nothing more needed to be said and they both started off at an easy run. Hal knew that Leo was in a lot of pain and was awed by his ability to ignore it and keep running. Hal understood that it was a personal thing that drove Leo to go after Jinks and allowed him to set the pace. Since Thompson had said that the three unknowns were headed back toward the compound, Hal saw no reason to mention them to Leo. The Cross brothers Steve and Jimmy had watched through the night vision scopes on their new sniper rifles as Billy fired. They’d both seen Spurlock's head explode spewing bits and pieces in an arc and they’d both seen his body pitch forward and start down. It was what came after that they were unsure about. There had been a brilliant flash of bright orange light accompanied by a tremendous explosion that shook the ground and all three brothers had instinctively dropped. When the air finally cleared of falling debris the brothers slowly stood. Steve and Jimmy were standing shoulder-to-shoulder three paces behind Billy and they were convinced that they’d just witnessed something truly remarkable. In a low voice, it was Steve that asked the question. "Damn Billy; what kind of bullets does that rifle have?" Before Billy could form an answer, the hair on the back of Jimmy's neck stood straight up. He looked around uncomfortably but saw nothing. Interrupting, Jimmy spoke quietly. "We need to go, now." Without questions or second-guessing, they did. Jinks Jinks found his walking stick a few feet away from where he’d landed and then started making his way up the steep hill toward the road. He’d gone only fifteen feet when his foot slipped and he came down hard on his good knee. Wincing with pain and cursing the rocky terrain of Kentucky, Jinks gave up on the idea of walking. Using his feet to push, and anything he could reach to pull himself along, he scooted on the ground toward the road. The thought of this last ravine beating him, after everything he’d been through, strengthened his resolve to go on. As Jinks reached the halfway point, the pain seemed to join forces with the rocky terrain causing him to question his ability to make it to the top. While he rested, Jinks thought about all the money that Spurlock had promised to share with him. They were going to travel the world again, but this time it would be different. They would not be sitting on a hard bench-seat in the darkened belly of a C-130 transport plane with a bunch of other guys that smelled like they hadn’t had a shower recently. They would not have to breathe air filled with the stench of sweat and fear this time. No, this time it would be first-class all the way with champagne and pretty women; Spurlock had promised. With that thought in mind, Jinks again started toward the top. Inch by painful inch, he crawled, clawed, and pulled his way up the rocky bluff until he was within a few feet of the top where he could see the road. Jinks had no doubts now that he would make it and rolled onto his back to catch his breath before making the final surge. Jinks felt something hit his left cheek with substantial force causing a sharp stinging pain. He instinctively rolled away from the source of the pain and came up on his hands and knees. Jinks raised his right hand to his cheek in order to assess the damage. He could feel a lump already beginning to swell and decided that it must be a bee sting. Mentally cursing this godforsaken place, Jinks put his right hand on the ground with the intentions of crawling away from the bees. The instant his hand touch the ground, Jinks felt something move under it. Before he could jerk his hand away, he felt the same sensation as before but this time on his wrist. A snake! A goddamn fuckin' snake! Jinks realized what had happened, and with the help of an adrenaline rush, he scrambled remaining few feet to the top. He stood on the road and looked both ways, fully understanding the consequences of his next decision. If he went back to the compound, the feds could undoubtedly save his life from the snakebite. He knew they would nurse him back to health and then execute him later, but if he made it to town, there was still a chance he could have it all. He could have his life and the money that Spurlock had promised. The stinging pain on his cheek had already turned into a burning unlike anything he’d ever known and he could imagine his skin melting and running like candle wax. Using his left hand, Jinks examined his cheek and knew that the swelling would soon close his eye. Hal and Leo Hal couldn't help noticing that the slow running pace Leo had set was already slowing even more. He also couldn't help noticing that Leo was weaving from side-to-side and Hal was beginning to worry about his friend. He understood how important it was to Leo, and he wanted Leo to be the one to take Jinks down. Yes, it was important but at what cost? Hal was still contemplating this when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. Without changing his pace, Hal opened the phone and listened. A moment later, Hal closed the phone and said, "Stop for a second." Both men stopped and faced each other; even in the dark Hal could see the pain in Leo's face. "What's up?" This time Hal was happy to relay Thompson's message. "We can take a break, Jinks isn't going anywhere. Thompson has sealed-off the road about a mile up. Jinks is between them and us like a trapped rat. Oh yeah, Thompson said to tell you that his men will just turn Jinks back and won't take him down, if they have a choice." A weak smile passed over Leo's trembling lips, "Good," and then without saying anything more, he lay down in the middle of the dirt road. He looked at the stars for a moment before closing his eyes and then waited for the pain level to subside. His thoughts jumped from one thing to another seemingly directed by the pain shooting into his leg. The quiet night air was suddenly filled with the distinctive whining sound of a vintage Dodge starter. Leo bolted upright and shouted, "My truck!" He sprinted to the top of the hill and looked over at the valley below. He heard the deep-throated roar of a four-barrel carburetor feeding a hungry V8 engine. Behind him, Leo heard three quick shots and then thought he saw brake lights flash on before the night sky lit-up with multicolored light. The air between Leo and his pickup instantly filled with heat, sound, and shockwaves. Leo instinctively ducked down and turned his face away from the explosion, and when he turned back, he saw his pickup and the surrounding area engulfed in flames. Without taking his eyes off the scene in the valley below, Leo asked, "What the hell did you hit?" Hal was staring at the destruction with his mouth open. "Nothing, I think. I shot straight up to warn the other guys that Jinks was coming." Hal and Leo sat in the road watching the fire consume Leo’s pickup for several minutes and neither man spoke. Leo felt a strange sense of loss because he did not get to take Jinks down and was almost pouting. He wanted to believe what Hal said about shooting straight up, but he was having difficulty with it and then he felt guilty for disbelieving a friend. Hal was bewildered by the whole thing and was looking up to see if his bullets could have hit a tree limb or something and ricocheted. He didn't see anything, but felt the weight of guilt because he thought it must somehow be his fault; he was the only one that had fired. Hal was still beating himself up when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. He opened the phone and listened to what Thompson had to say. "It took a few minutes but we put it all together. I ran the thermal on Spurlock backward and found where he stopped on the way in. He got out of his vehicle for a total of seventeen minutes, thirteen seconds. We thought at the time it was to relieve himself, but it turns out it was the exact same spot that Jinks found the vehicle that blew up. We believe that Spurlock put explosives in that vehicle intending it for Willard. That means that Spurlock and Jinks unknowingly killed each other." Thompson intended to go on but he heard the click of Hal's cell phone snapping shut. Still sitting in the road, Hal told Leo what Thompson had said and both men were feeling better. Leo was wondering if he would ever find another vintage Dodge truck when he suddenly remembered the Challenger Kid. Interrupting whatever thoughts Hal was having, Leo asked, "Do you know a kid named Stephen O'Malley?" Caught by surprise, Hal said, "What?" Leo said, "There's been a kid, rather a young man, around town looking for you. His name is Stephen O'Malley. I ran him through the DMV to get his name, age, and address. Hal was only half-paying attention. "I don't really know anyone around here. What does he want?" "Says it's personal, but he's not from around here. The kid drove all the way from Boston Massachusetts in a really sharp 1972 Dodge Challenger." Leo was thinking about the car and missed Hal's reaction of jerking his head around to look at him and sucking in his breath. Hal couldn't conceal the excitement in his voice. "What did you say his name is?" "Stephen O'Malley." Leo looked at Hal with surprise and wondered what was going on. Hal twisted around on his butt so he was facing Leo. "Is the Challenger blue with black rally stripes?" Hal remembered it as if it was yesterday. Anna O'Malley, his Anna, drove a pristine 1972 Dodge Challenger that her dad had given her for a graduation gift. He also remembered how he and Anna, in playing, had chosen the name Stephen for their first son. Leo said, "Yeah, and the old style Keystone mags and Laker side-pipes." Hal sprang to his feet saying, "I gotta go." *** Leo had not been unable to keep up with Hal and when he finally reached the FBI roadblock, Hal had taken a car and was gone. Fortunately, Thompson had called and ordered the agents to give Leo a car and let him pass. Cloverport When Leo turned into his driveway, the first thing he saw was the vintage Challenger and beside it sat a dark blue Ford Taurus identical to the one he was driving. Leo didn't know what was going on so he couldn't take any chances. He turned the headlights off and parked the car so that the driveway was completely blocked. Taking his pistol, Leo made his way around the side of his house until he could see the back deck. Leo could see Hal and Stephen O’Malley sitting in the chairs and they seem to be simply talking. Leo stayed where he was watching and listening. Hal studied the young man's face. "I hear you're looking for me." Steve was studying Hal just as hard. "Yeah, my name is Stephen O'Malley; Anna O'Malley is my mother." Hal didn't speak for a long moment. "And you are 19 years old, so that would mean that I am…" "My father," Steve finished Hal's sentence. Hal was stunned and didn't know what to say. He finally asked, "How is your mother?" Watching Hal's reaction closely Steve said, "Dead. Auto accident four years ago." Leo had heard enough and now he felt as if he was intruding. Silently, he backtracked to the car and drove away. Quantico Unlike Hal and Leo, Thompson didn't believe it was over. The houseboat that had been abandoned on the Illinois River with no apparent purpose bothered him. He’d already received word that one of the mercenaries was talking and explaining the part of Spurlock's plan that he knew. According to him, the houseboats were to be parked so they would be triangulated to get the most nuclear distribution from prevailing winds. Thompson thought, there is a lot wrong with this plan and the first thing is that it takes three to triangulate but only two boats had any explosives. Thompson picked up a folder that held Daniel Wess' information and read the page labeled: Education. Wess had recently graduated from NYU with two degrees: Meteorology and Psychology. Thompson looked through the other classes that Wess had taken. He was surprised to see that there were no business classes listed regardless of the fact that Wess was to take over his parent's business. Daniel Wess did however possess the skills necessary to know where to park the boats and choose the right people to put them there. Thompson dropped the folder and picked up the telephone. After going through the bureaucracy maze, he finally got Agent Cox on the line. Foregoing the pleasantries of a normal phone call Thompson asked, "Do you still have that Wess kid there?" Agent Sandra Cox sounded disgusted. "No, he lawyered-up and got immunity before coming in. We had to let him walk." Thompson grimaced. "How in the hell did he get immunity? Never mind; how long has he been gone?" Agent Cox sensed the urgency in Thompson's voice. "About an hour." Without any explanation, Thompson said, "Find him before he gets out of the city. Hold him until I get there, and whatever you do, don't let the SOB near a damn lawyer. I'm leaving now and Mr. Wess will be there when I arrive." When Agent Cox cradled her phone, she looked across the desk to see her partner watching her. Raising one manicured eyebrow she asked, "What?" Agent Beal chose his words carefully; they hadn't been partners very long. "I heard enough to assume that somebody was asking about Wess." "Yeah, some Agent Thompson at Quantico." Agent Beal’s excitement was obvious. "You mean Special Agent Alex Thompson? Sandra Cox was surprised at her partner's excitement. She had been trying to get him excited about her since day 1, and believed Agent Beal to be incapable of becoming excited about anything. "Yeah. So what's the big deal?" Other than he sounds like a prick. Agent Beal stood and then leaned over placing both hands flat on the desk. Leaning forward, he was instantly on her side of their shared desk and spoke quietly. "The legionary Agent Alex Thompson; I know you've heard of him." Agent Cox could see the sparkle in her partner's dark eyes. "Of course I've heard, but I thought he was dead. He would have to be about 100 years old by now." Agent Beal straightened to his full height of six-foot. "Yeah, he's old, but not dead; not even close. And now he's Assistant Director Alex Thompson." Agent Sandra Cox stood; her own excitement building. "Then let's get going and bring Wess in." She pulled a desk drawer open and removed her weapon and her FBI badge and added, “I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint the great Alex Thompson.” And I’m damn glad I didn’t say what I was thinking. Agent Beal glanced at his partner to check the expression on her face. Her voice hadn’t sounded sarcastic or like she was joking and he was happy to see her wearing a serious expression. He knew that Special Agent Alex Thompson deserved all the respect people gave him and possibly more. *** When they arrived at Wess' home address the driveway gate was standing open so they simply drove in. A moment later, they could see the dark condo nestled comfortably behind well-maintained evergreens. It took only a few minutes to determine that Wess wasn't home and then the agents turned their attention to Wess' office. Agent Beal asked, "Did Thompson say why he wanted Wess?" "No. He just said to find Wess and bring him in before he gets out of the city. And he said to be sure not to let Wess contact his lawyer." Agent Beale chuckled. "We've got to be the luckiest agents in the bureau. We're going to get to watch a master at work." *** It didn't take long for Agents Cox and Beal to get to the Wess Business Building but that's where their pool of good luck dried up. They soon discovered that Wess’ corporate offices were on floors 31 and 32 but the elevator would only go to 30 after business hours. They also learned that Wess employed a private security company to furnish the overnight security staff and the guard on duty was being a royal pain in the ass. Using the intercom system Agent Beal was trying to convince the night watchman that he really was a FBI agent. Because they didn't have a warrant the wannabe cop refused to unlock the door in order to verify they truly were FBI agents. After wasting 10-minutes with the guard, Agent Beal lost it. He called the NYPD to advise them of the situation and his intent to go in. Due to the guard's lack of cooperation, Agent Beal was sure that was enough to give them probable cause and without waiting for the NYPD, Agent Beal kicked the stairway door open on the 31st floor. 30-seconds after that the glass door of the corporate office shattered when Agent Beal threw a chair through it. The two FBI agents rushed in with weapons drawn and caught the security guard totally by surprise. Upon seeing the weapons and FBI badges the frightened guard did exactly what he was told. No longer a cocky wannabe cop, the little man assured the agents that he’d not seen Wess that night. Within minutes, the NYPD rushed in and Agents Cox and Beal left the Wess Business Building without searching: they believed the security guard was too frightened to lie. Walking back to their car, Agent Sandra Cox was giddy. "Sometimes I just love my job. That dumbass guard nearly peed his pants." They shared a moment of hilarity and then Agent Cox became serious. "Where do we go from here?" Without missing a step Agent Beal said, "The airport; I'm betting he don't know that his passport has been pulled, and when he finds out that he can’t leave the country, he will probably grab the first flight to anywhere.” Dripping with sarcasm Agent Cox said, "Great idea Einstein. Which one? There are only twenty-five airports around here to choose from." As if there were really only one, Beal said, "JFK of course." Agent Cox glanced at her partner with surprise and suspicion. "How can you be so sure?" Sounding a little cocky, Beal said, "Because he's a spoiled rich kid." A long pause. "And because I looked at his passport. JFK is the only airport he's ever used and he's got no reason to change." *** Arriving at JFK, Agent Beal parked in a no parking zone and Agent Cox hung a FBI placard from the rear view. Agent Cox checked the time. "You'd better be right. There's no time for a plan B before Thompson gets here." Beal didn't respond and the two agents entered the busy airport. Going to the nearest computer station, Agent Beal went to the front of the line. Displaying his badge, he spoke to the guy at the computer. "Has Daniel Wess purchased a ticket to anywhere leaving in the next few hours?" The guy at the computer hesitated. "I'll have to get my supervisor. I'm not supposed to access the main database." Agent Sandra Cox, who’d been standing behind her partner, stepped forward with her badge and ID open. "Right now, I'm your supervisor; do it." The tone of her voice left no doubt that at that moment she was the man’s boss. The guy looked at Agent Cox’s ID and then her face. His fingers immediately began flying over the keyboard and within moments he had an answer. Reading from the computer monitor, the guy said, "Daniel Wess Jr, one-way to Denver Colorado, loading now at Gate 3.” Meeting Agent Cox’s eyes, he added, “You'll never make it on foot; take my supervisor's golf cart." Both agents headed for the cart and Agent Beal shouted back over his shoulder. "Contact the tower and tell them to hold that plane. It's a FBI emergency." Agent Beal knew that since 9-11 airport security had gotten much tighter. That plane would not leave the ground and there would be no argument. When they got to Gate 3, there were several airport security people in a huddle waiting for them and two more were stopping people from boarding. When the cart stopped, one of the Airport Security men stepped forward. “The guy you want is already on board." He handed Agent Cox a slip of paper. "Here's his seat number. The pilot and co-pilot are on board and the cockpit is locked down. This is the only way off that plane; if he gets passed you, we'll get him." The look in the Airport Security man’s eye told Agent Cox this guy was not bluffing. *** Fifteen minutes later, agents Cox and Beal came back out with Daniel Wess Jr. walking between them in handcuffs. Wess was complaining about missing his flight and already asking for his lawyer. Wess knew he needed to get far away from there and he didn't have much time to waste. On the ride to the federal building, Wess asked once for his lawyer and three times about the time. After arriving and before going into interrogation room 3, following protocol, Wess was relieved of all personal possessions including anything that might be used to harm himself. In the car, Wess’ hands had been handcuffed behind his back so he couldn't see his watch and now he didn't have one. Time was very important and Wess knew that if Spurlock stayed with his original plan there wasn't much time left before it would be too late. He needed to go. FBI headquarters New York City There was a hazy dawn beginning to show itself when Special Agent Alex Thompson walked into the New York City FBI Headquarters. Thompson could tell that he was getting too old to work 24-hour shifts because he was tired and grouchy. His determination to personally confront Daniel Wess was fueled by anger making it unhealthy for him as well as everyone around him. As soon as Thompson got through the front door, he was immediately stopped by a young agent that was acting as the security guard. Thompson knew that this was a duty that all young agents were assigned and knew they all hated. For this reason, Thompson decided to be nice. After showing his ID and explaining that he was expected, Thompson was escorted to the fourth floor and introduced to Agents Cox and Beal. Agent Tony Beal was the first to speak. "Agent Thompson sir, I'm proud to meet you. Your reputation in the bureau is legendary." As they shook hands, Thompson smiled and said, "Don't believe everything you hear." Losing the smile and pleasant tone, he asked, "Where is Wess?" Agent Sandra Cox started toward the door. "Follow me." The last 24-hours had made Thompson painfully aware that he was old, tired, and grouchy, but the attractive Agent Sandra Cox walking in front of him caused him to remember he was also a man. If I was thirty years younger… When they were halfway to the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a door with the number 3 painted on and Agent Cox stepped to the side. "Good luck Agent Thompson; you're gonna need it." Agent Cox folded her arms across her chest and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "He's all yours; enjoy." Without saying anything, Thompson opened the door and stepped in. The sights and smells of the notorious interrogation room 3 immediately assaulted his senses. Some of the worst criminals in recent history had visited this room and he knew in his gut that the worst of the worst was in there now. Without looking directly at Wess or introducing himself, Thompson commanded, "Sit down." Wess appeared stung by Thompson's obvious lack of respect but did as he was told. After a long moment of silence, Wess extended his hand toward Thompson. "I'm Daniel Wess, and you are…" Thompson ignored the extended hand; he had no intentions of being nice. “Yeah, I am. We found all three houseboats." Wess jumped to his feet with a huge smile. "That's great! I was afraid that Spurlock was going to hurt even more people. I'm just glad it's over so we can all go home." Thompson couldn't believe what he was hearing. This kid is sicker than I thought. "I told you to sit,” he snapped. Wess looked like he’d been slapped as he slowly sank into his chair. "Why are you mad at me? I've been trying to help," he said almost whining. Thompson said, “Tell me about that third houseboat.” Without expression, Wess said, “What about it?” Thompson was in no mood to play games and felt an unexplained sense of urgency. "Cut the crap kid. I can tie you to 33 murders right now. You are the only one with the know-how to get passed security at the Yucca Mountain site and triangulate the attack. Looking at your college classes, I can prove premeditation. That's 33 counts of murder one." Wess remained expressionless for a moment and then a smug look appeared on his boyish face. "I've got immunity and I demand to see my lawyer. You can't talk to me any more without my lawyer present." Thompson looked up at a corner of the room where a small red light could be seen. "I think it's time for all video and audio to malfunction. Understood?" There were two loud knocks on the wall and the red light disappeared and then Thompson turned back to face Wess. Thompson’s voice sounded menacing. "Listen-up asswipe. As of now, you are classified as a terrorist, an enemy combatant just like the ones at Guantanamo Bay, and if you survive this interrogation, that's where you're going.” Thompson paused to allow that information to take root before continuing. “Just so you’re clear, that means you have no rights. Not to a lawyer, not to a phone, not even to toilet paper. As long as I think you might be withholding information we need to keep this country safe, I will go after it by whatever means necessary. Some people call it torture, and maybe it is. In truth, I don’t give a damn.” Wess looked worried but wasn't ready to give up. "Maybe I'll escape and go live with bin Laden and then you would never try to find me either." Thompson said, "You won't escape." Reaching into his back pocket, Thompson removed two articles that caused Wess to tremble slightly. With eyes wide, Wess asked, "What are those?" Thompson knew that Wess was ready to break and all he needed was a little push. He’d borrowed a couple of pieces from his nephew's Halloween ninja costume. With an evil smile that was not entirely fake, Thompson said, "I believe in being a good neighbor." He raised one hand with a strip of black cloth hanging from it. "This one goes in your mouth so nobody has to listen to you scream." Raising the other hand, Thompson showed Wess the black cloth bag that the ninja costume had come in. "And this one goes over your head so I don't have to look at you." Terrified, Wess said, "You can't do this. I'm an American citizen." Thompson knew he’d won. "Not anymore you're not; you're a terrorist." He took a step toward Wess. Wess managed to get out of the chair and shrank back from Thompson until the wall stopped him. Holding his hands in front of him in a defensive posture, Wess cried as he spoke. "No, please. Wait, I'll tell you." Thompson stopped advancing toward Wess. He’d guessed right; Wess was, in fact, just a scared little boy with a twisted mind. He could sympathize with the kid because of the way his parents had died in the World Trade Center, but only up to a point, and they were well passed that point. Thompson stepped to the side clearing the way to the chair. "Sit and talk. Don't make me sorry I'm giving you this one and only chance." Wess used the back of his hand to wipe his nose and staggered on weak legs toward the nearest chair. After collapsing, and landing mostly on the chair, he began. "Spurlock must have seen the plans I drew up a long time ago when I was angry. It was just something I played with in my mind; I never would've done it for real. Besides, it's a suicide mission; nobody would do it for real." Thompson had to say what he was thinking. "9-11 was a suicide mission. Was it real enough for you?" Wess sniffled and whined. "I'm sorry. I never meant for it to be used." Straightening up in his chair Wess said, "Maybe it's not too late to stop it. One of the Navy's smallest attack ships is temporarily stationed at the Great Lakes Naval Station at Chicago. The plan was to hijack that boat and take it to Lake Ontario where the Ginna Nuclear Power Plant is located. It's close to Rochester New York, and..." Thompson finished for Wess. "And turn the ship's guns loose on the power plant." Wess blubbered and nodded his head. Thompson did some quick calculations in his head and estimated that if the whole plan had been a success, dirty bombs and power plant, as much as one-third of the United States would be uninhabitable. He didn't want to think about the number of people that would ultimately die as a direct result of radiation exposure in the coming years. Unfortunately, the use of cell phones were prohibited in the federal building and all signals were blocked. He needed to know if there really was a small attack ship in the Great Lakes, and if so, was it accounted for. Leaving Wess to cry alone in room 3, Thompson took off to find a secure phone. When Thompson stepped into the hall, agents Cox and Beal were already there and expressions they wore made it clear they heard what Wess said. Agent Beal attempted to say what he was thinking. “That kid is...” Agent Sandra Cox finished the thought for her partner. “One, sick, fuck.” Thompson rushed passed the two young agents without speaking. He knew that it wasn’t necessary for him to ask them to keep an eye on the prisoner and Wess would still be there when he returned. *** Thompson's call was transferred five times before he finally got to speak with someone that could answer his questions. Commander Wiles assured him that there was one, 180-foot Cyclone-class attack ship temporarily assigned to the Great Lakes Naval Station for training purposes. And yes, it was currently out on maneuvers with a 30-man crew. When Thompson mentioned the possibility of it being hijacked, Commander Wiles scoffed and hee-hawed but agreed to check on the ship and get back with him. Thompson sat at the desk in the empty office running all of the possible scenarios through his mind. It was nearly time for the day shift people to come in and he would soon have to vacate this office. He was trying to figure out his next move when the telephone at his elbow rang. Thompson answered it. "This is Commander Wiles. That Cyclone ship called-in several hours ago and said they were starting the radio-silence phase of the training mission. I'm not aware of a radio-silence phase in the training mission." Commander Wiles didn't sound like he thought it was just a big joke anymore. "I tried, but they're not answering the radio. Captain Jeffers is in charge of that mission and he has a satellite phone but he's not answering that either." Without going into a lot of details, Thompson explained the threat to Commander Wiles. The fact that the FBI was taking this threat seriously, and being unable to communicate with the ship, spurred the Commander into action. "I’ll keep trying to make contact with them and I’ll send a boat out to their location but a Cyclone can do 20 knots. If they run, we don't have anything equally armed that can catch them." Thompson ended the call with Commander Wiles and immediately placed a call to Cloyd Wilkerson, director of the National Security Agency. When Wilkerson answered, it was easy to tell that he hadn't had enough coffee. "We missed you at the celebration party last night." Thompson said, "The job isn't over; there's nothing to celebrate." Wilkerson began his morning coughing fit. His doctor had told him that his cigarettes were going to kill him if he didn't stop smoking, but so far, he hadn't seriously tried to quit. When he finally stopped coughing, Wilkerson said, "Yeah I know; you’re determined to piss all over the party." Thompson bristled, Wilkerson, you’re such a dumbass. I wish you were just half as smart as you think you are. "I've got new information that confirms what I suspected. Those houseboats were a decoy and the real threat is still out there; and we're fast running out of time." Wilkerson sounded skeptical, "Are you sure?" Thompson quickly outlined the whole plan that he knew for sure as well as the parts that he was guessing at. Wilkerson assured him that it would not be an easy task to cause the reactor to blow. After the events of 9-11, the Ginna Power Plant had reinforced the concrete barrier around the reactor to withstand the possibility of an airplane crashing into it. Wilkerson agreed to contact the security people at Ginna and alert them to the possibility of an attack but that was all he was prepared to do. Thompson got the impression that Wilkerson didn't feel the sense of urgency that this situation called for and decided to call the power plant himself. Thompson ended the call with Wilkerson and started trying to find a number for the Ginna Power Plant when the day shift workers began drifting in. Thompson was forced to relinquish the desk he’d commandeered and went back to room 3 where agents Cox and Beal were in the hallway where he’d left them. Entering the room, Thompson found Wess much like he'd left him, blubbering and whimpering. At first, Thompson was surprised that the kid was still carrying on like that, but then thought about it. He guessed that if he’d planned to murder a multitude of innocent people and got caught, he might not be able to stop crying either. Wess looked up at him through red swollen eyes and asked, "What time is it?" Thompson looked at his watch and started to answer but then hesitated. "Why? What difference does it make?" With a choking sob, Wess said, "If Spurlock sticks with my original plan the attack on the power plant will begin around 8 o'clock this morning and the radiation fall-out will get here between 10:00 AM and 11:00 AM. I can't be here when that happens." Before Thompson could say anything, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. Agent Beal stuck his head in and said, "Agent Thompson, you've got an urgent call." Leaving Wess blubbering about his need to get out of the city before it was too late, Thompson trotted down the hall to Agent Beal's office. Answering the call, Thompson was surprised to find Cloyd Wilkerson on the line. "Thompson, you were right. I just received word that the Ginna Power Plant is under attack." As much as Thompson wanted to be, he wasn't surprised. "What's their status?" Excitedly Wilkerson said, "Hang on." Thompson was sure that Wilkerson was juggling telephones but he didn't know how many or who were involved. Wilkerson's voice came back in Thompson's ear. "Ginna just took a third hit. The concrete barrier is still holding but it won't take much more." Thompson asked, "What are you gonna do?" Sounding helpless, Wilkerson said, "I don't know." Thompson was amazed and angry at the incompetency. "Well, you'd best think of something; sooner rather than later." Going from sounding helpless to indignant, Wilkerson asked, "Yeah? Like what?" Before Thompson could respond, Wilkerson said, "Hold on." Thompson was terribly frustrated. He didn't want to think that the fate of hundreds of thousands of lives were depending on this man. The frustration was changing to anger when Wilkerson came back on the line. "It's a done deal. There’s an F-16 on the way. ETA…now." Thompson couldn't believe it and nearly shouted. "With orders to do what and from whom?" Wilkerson sounded cocky now. "With orders to blow that fuckin' boat to hell, and the orders came directly from the White House." Surprised, Thompson asked, "From the president?" Still sounding cocky, Wilkerson said, "No, the President is on vacation. The orders came from the Vice President." Thompson disconnected the call and thought about the thirty navy sailors that had been aboard that ship. Thirty young men, some of whom undoubtedly had families of their own. Thompson knew that the real tragedy was the children that no longer had their father. Four days later Leo Willard was relaxing on the deck in his lounge chair watching the removal of the big white building when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He was not completely comfortable yet and still carried his pistol. Turning his head, Leo recognized Hal and Steve walking toward him and seeing them side-by-side left no doubt; they were definitely father and son. Leo knew now that it had been Hal that the Challenger Kid had reminded him of from the start. Looking passed the happy father and son team, Leo saw there was also another man with them that he didn't know. Hal was the first to speak. "How goes it?" Nodding toward the floating building that was being removed, he asked, "You supervising?" Ignoring Hal, Leo asked, "How are you Steve?" "Okay." Then with a cocky grin reminiscent of his dad, Steve said, "Oh, by the way, you need to know that you are a terrible liar." Leo raised his eyebrows ready to defend himself. Steve continued, "The next time you want to fake a phone call, look at the caller ID before you pretend to answer it." Leo couldn't think of a snappy comeback and wiggled uncomfortably in his chair. Saving Leo from a longer embarrassment, Hal interrupted and introduced the man with him. "This grouchy S .O.B. is my boss, Agent Thompson." Speaking in his usual gruff voice, Thompson slapped Hal on the back playfully and said, "You’re the reason I'm grouchy." Stepping toward Leo with his hand extended Thompson said, "Mr. Willard, glad to finally meet you." Leo stood and the two men shook hands. Leo said, "Maybe you could tie-up some loose ends for me." Thompson remained stone-faced. "Sure, no problem; as long as it's not classified." Leo said, "I only have three questions. How is that Hispanic woman that Jinks threw out the window? Where did you find those houseboats? And what about that kid, Daniel Wess?" As an afterthought he added, "Make that four questions. What about those three unidentified thermal images?" Thompson said, "Yeah that much I can tell you. The woman is basically okay, but she was an illegal and we had to send her home." Thompson glanced over at Hal. "The houseboats is a different story. Thanks to you, we got really lucky. We caught all three before they reached their destinations, and the guys onboard talked. The one that went up the Ohio River was heading for Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. The other two were still in the Mississippi River when we got to them. The one going north was heading for the Missouri River and on to Omaha, Nebraska, and the other was going to New Orleans." Leo held up his hand to stop Thompson. "That doesn't make good sense. There are other more densely populated places along the rivers." Thompson said, "It makes perfect sense if you have an evil mind. Spurlock triangulated the attack to take advantage of prevailing winds. There was the potential to contaminate hundreds of thousands of people with enough radiation to cause severe health problems in most and premature death for many. And then don't forget about the land. There might have been hundreds of thousands of square miles contaminated to the point that it would be unsafe to use for anything." Leo was stunned. He tried to remember what he’d learned about history and geography in school. He knew that when America was first being settled, the river system was used to transport nearly everything. That was why most of the largest cities in the US had grown-up near a major river. And a person could get to a great many of the most important cities by way of the Mississippi River. Oh shit. Did Spurlock really think of this all by himself? He wasn't very bright. Leo's eyes focused on Thompson. "I know that nobody has been watching the river system; but are they going to after this?" With disgust Thompson said, "Are you kidding? This administration?" A warped smile crossed his face and then his shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Oh yeah, we rounded up all of Spurlock's men; including that poor bastard you tied to the tree. He’d wiggled around against that rough bark so much that he didn't have much skin left and the mosquitoes were having a feast." There was a moment of hilarity and then Leo asked, "What about that Wess kid?" Thompson's face looked troubled. "Wess swears that he didn't know about the money demands, and I kinda believed him on that." Thompson shifted his weight uncomfortably and then continued. "Wess swears that Spurlock's men were supposed to steal the stuff at Yucca Mountain without hurting anyone and then bring it here to the floating warehouse. He claimed that Spurlock was supposed to keep it here in safe storage and put guards on it 24/7 to keep people away." Leo was positive that Thompson was going to add a "but" at the end of that sentence; he didn't and Leo let it go. Maybe Spurlock was smarter than I thought. Maybe he did figure out how to triangulate the prevailing winds. Bullshit. Then Thompson surprised Leo by saying more on the subject. "That kid knew all along that someday he would take over his parent's business. He graduated from NYU with two degrees, one in Meteorology and one in Psychology. He never took even one business class." Leo's mind was racing ahead putting the pieces together and connecting the dots. The kid had planned it; premeditated. He would know about prevailing winds and how to pick a psycho, or make one. "I'll bet the news people are going to have fun with this one." Thompson said, "No they won't." A questioning look passed over Leo's face but before he could put it into words, Thompson answered the unasked question. "None of this ever happened. Daniel Wess Jr. committed suicide a couple days ago. Jumped off a building that he owned. When I get in my car and leave here, that's the end of it." Leo could feel his ears burning with anger. Suicide my ass. There is no way in hell the Feds turned that kid loose long enough for him to jump off anything. Leo thought back through the lies of recent history. It was a known fact that the Vietnam War had been a lie, he was sure that at least parts of the story about 9-11 was a lie, the war in Iraq was a lie, the reason for going into Afghanistan was a lie, and now this. Leo didn’t even try to conceal the contempt he felt. "A cover up; another damn lie. Isn't that how this all got started?" Thompson ignored the accusation and said, "Think about it. Property values near the rivers would bottom-out. Where would people live? Besides, my boss said to close the case, and his boss said to hurry up and close it, so this is it. Right or wrong, he's still the boss. You are the only one that might say anything, but I know you won't." Leo knew that Thompson was right. There was no way he could prove anything because all evidence had already disappeared and if he were the only one talking, he would be labeled a nutcase. Thompson knew that the accident at the Ginna Nuclear Power Plant that had caused damage to the concrete barrier was not made public and Leo didn't know about it. Unfortunately, the explosion on board the US Navy training vessel had made national news. The fact that it ultimately sank and took the entire thirty-man crew with it to the bottom of Lake Ontario was impossible to keep quiet. Leo only knew what had been in the news and there was no connection made to Wess or Spurlock. The death of Daniel Wess Jr. had also made the news but it too was an unrelated incident. Leo asked again, "What about the three unidentified thermal images." Thompson answered, "Those turned out to be nothing; maybe dogs." Leo didn't believe that story either but let it die like Thompson obviously wanted. Thompson thought about how the thermal imaging had followed the three unidentified people away from where Spurlock had blown himself up and later simply disappeared completely. Shortly after that the three army snipers had appeared; stripped down to their underwear and humiliated but otherwise unharmed. Going to the location the three snipers had emerged from, it was found to be a huge rock formation with five possible cave entrances. When questioned, those well-trained elite snipers could not even positively identify the gender of their attackers. Thompson had served in the military and knew what the three snipers would have to endure but it was the one Leo had taken down that he felt sorry for. Sniper number four was from Louisiana, half Cajun, half Indian and believed that he was attacked by a mythical creature. It had been Thompson’s decision that this too had never happened and the army was happy to agree. *** A half-hour later, Thompson, Hal, and Steve were preparing to leave when Thompson put his arm around Leo's shoulders. "Come with me; there's someone I'd like you to meet." They walked around the side of Leo’s house to the driveway where a dark blue Ford Taurus was parked. Thompson opened the back door and said, "This is Officer Muley of the LAPD." Leo stood motionless as a solid black German Sheppard stepped out of the car and sat at attention. The dog studied Leo with bright intelligent eyes that were as black as the hair on its body. Unconsciously Leo was comparing this dog to Tye and saw that Officer Muley was 3-4 inches taller and 20-25 pounds heavier. Where Tye had been sleek and feminine, Muley was boxy and masculine and the way he was sitting at attention made him appear to be almost regal. Thompson said, "Officer Muley has first-hand experience with shotgun blasts; that's how he lost his leg." Leo hadn't noticed that half of the left hind leg was missing. Thompson continued, "Officer Muley and his partner, Sergeant Ralph McKinsey, participated in a major drug bust. Muley was hit in midair but took his man down anyway. Unfortunately, Sergeant McKenzie was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the same .00 buckshot that hit Muley also hit McKinsey, full in the face." Thompson paused for a moment. "McKinsey didn't make it, and Officer Muley here, well, he is retired and needs a home. We were hoping that maybe you…" Leo knew that due to the training received by police dogs they could not be placed with just anybody. If a suitable home could not be found for the retired police dog, he would ultimately have to be destroyed. Without hesitation Leo said, "Absolutely, I'll take him." Thompson opened the front passenger-side door and picked up a folder from the seat. Handing it to Leo, Thompson said, "Here is a copy of Officer Muley's personnel file." Leo opened the folder and began scanning through the information about Officer Muley. Muley was six years old, had three years active duty, and five commendations. A slow smile passed across Leo's face and a moment later the smile progressed into a light chuckle. Steve, who had been quietly watching, asked, "What's so funny?" Leo said, "His name. When he arrived at the K9 Academy his name was Thor. The handler at the K9 Training Facility called him Mule, partly because he was so strong but mostly because he was so stubborn and the name stuck." Leo paused for another chuckle. "McKinsey added the Y to Mule to make his partner sound more dignified." ### John Braswell I hope that you enjoyed this story. I want to improve my writing and need your help to accomplish this goal. Please write an honest review explaining what you did and did not like about this work. I want to do better and with your help maybe I can.