by Isaac Allen
The man on Taylor’s left continued “We thought so. Now, if you could open up your garage and roll your trash can out to the gentleman in the truck. He’ll remove your refuse and we will be on our way.
Taylor hesitated for a few moments. He thought about any legal repercussions for refusing to do so. There were none really. However, he was outnumbered by strange men acting weird and this was at night. He decided rather than risk a possible physical confrontation, he’d take his garbage out that night and file a possible law suit the next day.
“Excuse me. I’ll open my garage door.” Taylor turned around, opened the door to his BMW and fumbled with the garage door opener.
The garage door engaged and lifted up.
The door was not even all the way up, however Taylor went inside and rolled out his trash can to the curb.
The man in the Patriot Pac Sanitation truck got out and hooked the garbage can to the back loader and engaged the hydraulics.
As the curbside can lifted up one of the men in black suits reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out piece of paper. “Thank you mister Taylor. Please take these coupons for a free oil change and servicing at Liberty Lube.”
“They are good at any location.” The other man chimed in.
Taylor took the coupon. “Uh, thank you. I’ll try to get my oil changed in another five hundred miles. That’s when it’s scheduled.”
“Or tomorrow at five fifty between getting off of work and your tee time at Minster Country Club to discuss the Yatiko Water Front Project.”
Taylor is dumbfounded that he knew about that and angry at the same time “How the hell you know about that?”
The other man looked at Taylor through his dark shaded glasses. “Mister Satamura will not mind at all if you run a little late for your golf appointment. Please make sure you get your oil changed.”
* * *
James Taylor had been digging through some files in the library at his law firm looking up files pertaining to Patriot Pac Sanitation. He was between a giant row of sliding cabinets. “It is a major company. Why don’t we have any files on them or Liberty Lube? What about a background search on Steve Bennett?”
With him was a young female intern. Her big tortoise shell framed eye classes kept slipping off of her head and she had to repeatedly push them back into place. Her only response to Taylor’s questions was just shaking her head and shrug her shoulders.
“No arrest reports on Bennett?” Taylor asked her in shock.
She responded “No reports. I even got Misses Latimore to help me with the police files for local, county, state and even FBI.”
Taylor was tired and frustrated. He stared off into space as he put the file back “I just need to get to the bottom of this.”
“Bottom of what Mister Taylor?” The intern said nervously as she slide her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose again.
Taylor looked at her “Nothing.” Then he walked away.
The intern looked at Taylor as he walked away. “Will this affect my grade?”
* * *
Taylor was in his BMW driving around town. He was gripping the steering wheel as his mind wandered around in thought.
He gave it some deep thought about why he couldn’t find any information on Patriot Pac Sanitation, Liberty Lube or what happened to his neighbor Steve Bennett.
He thought about how he could just put his trash out on the curb every week and continue on his life.
However Taylor’s character consisted of the pursuit of information and facts and he was relentless about it. Almost to the point of being compulsive about it. It was because of this trait in character he was able to win his cases or settle with a positive outcome for his high dollar clients.
He had some information to gather about these mysterious companies and who and where was Steven Bennett.
Taylor drove straight to one of the sources to look for clues. He pulled his BMW to one of the three express lube bays at Liberty Lube. As he pulled into the driveway Taylor gawked at the Liberty Lube sign that was high above the building.
The company logo was a picture of The Statue of Liberty but instead of hold up a torch she is holding up a gold can of oil with a pour spout. Oscillating below the logo was a long and slender rectangular sign that read ‘WE LUBE FOR A BETTER TOMORROW’.
From the corner of his eye Taylor noticed some one running to up to his SUV. Taylor saw that it was an eighteen or nineteen year old kid wearing a pressed and neat uniform of Liberty Lube. The kid looked like he just came straight out of boot camp. He hustled up to his BMW.
Taylor rolled the window down.
The kid started yelling at Taylor like a cadet communicating to his drill instructor “Welcome to Liberty Lube where we lube for a better tomorrow! My name is Jimmy! I will be assisting you! Please sir, step out of your vehicle and step into the waiting area for your complimentary Liberty Lube coffee and newspaper!”
“Can I just stay in my SUV as you change my oil? Like at that other lube place.” Taylor inquired.
“Sir, please step out of your vehicle and step into the waiting area for your complimentary Liberty Lube coffee and newspaper!”
Taylor, with the look of something else on his mind other than an oil change, complied. He opened the door and stepped out of his BMW.
“Thank you sir! Please step into our waiting room. The entry is there!” Jimmy pointed to the door to the waiting room.
Taylor walked into the waiting room that was full of nervous people from all walks of life. Taylor noticed that some people were somewhat calm and were reading their complimentary paper. Other people just paced.
Taylor saw a news rack labeled ‘Complimentary Papers’. He slyly walked over and grabbed his a copy off of the rack.
Taylor studied the surroundings. He had a feeling that he probably couldn’t get into Patriot Pac as easily. Now he was in Liberty Lube with the liberty to walk around and perhaps find clues as to who they are.
Taylor’s attention started to focus on a chubby husband and wife who were at least in their sixties. The husband was starting to throw a tantrum. He was wearing a decade old polo shirt, shorts and sandals with black socks. On his head was a hat with a Navy ship’s insignia across the front. “I have the right to take out my trash ANY DAMN TIME I WANT TO!”
His wife was trying to calm him down. She put her hand on his shoulder, “Calm down Henry. It’s okay.”
Don’t tell me to calm down Helen! I’m a veteran of the Navy! I fought for my country! Something is NOT RIGHT HERE!”
Helen persisted on calming her husband’s temper down, “Please stay calm Henry. Remember what your doctor said about your blood pressure? And you’re creating a scene.”
“A SCENE? That damn sign out there is a radar array if I ever saw one! Something is not right here!”
“HENRY! Just read the damn PAPER!”
“NO I AM NOT gonna read the damn newspaper. Thirty years in the Navy, twenty aboard ships and you’re gonna sit there and tell me that sign is NOT a RADAR tracking something!”
As Taylor watched the events between Henry and his wife Helen unfold he is slightly distracted. Taylor saw two men that were dressed too clean to be working at a lube shop walk down the steep metal stairs to the lower level. Between that and the rant about radar arrays from a naval veteran, Taylor’s curiosity had increased tenfold.
Henry’s tangent became supercritical, “THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT! We’re getting our car out of here! They’re not touching OUR CAR!” Henry flew out of his chair, stormed out of the waiting room and started screaming at employees.
Helen followed him “STOP HENRY! YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE!”
Taylor and the rest of the people in the waiting room watched Henry’s scene unfold out in the shop. They watched Henry argue with one of the young employees. The kid shook his head and pointed back into the waiting room while screaming something at Henry.
Whatever the orders that the
kid gave, it didn’t sit well with Henry as he tried to punch the kid and started swinging his fists at other employees who rushed in.
Taylor realized that Henry’s fists of protests was the perfect distraction. Taylor sprang into action. He left the nervousness of the waiting room and nonchalantly walked to the metal stairs.
Taylor crept down the stairs to a lower level where the oil pits were. There, he saw through a doorway three employees in dirty garbs draining oil and swapping oil filters on the vehicles above them.
They were talking to each other as they slogged in the grease and oil. “Looks like another veteran popped”, one employee said. His co-worker in the bay next to him replied “Let me up there! I’ll choke him out!”
Taylor, noticed the stairs did not stop at the second level. The stairs went down another level to a metal door and a large tool box next to it.
Wide eyed, Taylor tip toed down the metal grate stairs.
When Taylor got to the metal door, he quietly opened it.
There he saw what was to be an ugly truth. The room was full of electronics and radar screens. Taylor say four men in clean clothes were occupying the room.
Two men were watching the radar screens, tracking various vehicles and logging them down on their computers. Two other men were going through a check list.
Taylor crept into the room and hid behind a cart with electronic tools, electronic devices and oil filters. Taylor picked up an oil filter and studied it. The filter had been retro fitted with an electronic device.
Taylor then realized everything Steve Bennett was yelling about was true. Liberty Lube was tracking people. With Taylor’s and the Henry’s experience with Patriot Pac’s persistence on getting the trash out on time, Patriot Pac was conditioning its customers to do what they are told.
Suddenly a door across the room flew open. A fifth man came out. “Looks like another veteran popped upstairs. What’s the status on the BMW?”
Behind that door, Taylor saw a wall full of monitors from the security camera throughout the shop.
One of the men going through the checklists replied “Taylor, James R is up next. Why?”
“I don’t see him on any of the screen.”
Then another man inside the room full of monitors screamed “TAYLOR’S DOWN HERE!”
Taylor’s adrenaline surged when he heard that and when he saw the men looking around.
It didn’t take long to find Taylor. One man saw Taylor and screamed “THERE HE IS!”
The men rushed Taylor. Taylor shoved the cart at the advancing men and trips them all up. Then Taylor dashed out of the room, shut the metal door and shoved the tool box in front of it.
Without a second to spare to see if they were trapped in the room, Taylor bolted up the stairs to escape to the surface.
Outside Taylor sees Jimmy pulling his BMW into position to have its oil changed. Taylor acts fast…”JIMMY! There’s a huge fight in the waiting room! Another veteran! HE WHIPPED OUT A GUN!”
Jimmy got a look of dire concern and dashed into the waiting room.
Taylor hopped in his BMW, hit the gas and peeled out of Liberty Lube.
As Taylor saw Liberty Lube get smaller in his rear view mirror his cell phone rings. Taylor answered it quickly and with seeing who it was “WHAT IS IT?”
“Hello Mister James Taylor. This is Cheryl Smith from Patriot Pac. We noticed you left Liberty Lube before you received you free oil change…”
Taylor hung up on her.
* * *
James Taylor after discovering the secrets of Liberty Lube and the true actions of Patriot Pac Sanitation knows he is over his head. Not knowing what actions to take next he goes to the one place where he could take some kind of action…his law office on the eighth floor.
He thought about what he could do legally but he needed to do his research first and quickly. Steve Bennett was in architecture not law.
Perhaps Bennett was limited on his resources Taylor thought. Perhaps Taylor could come up with a legal plan were as Bennett couldn’t.
Taylor stepped out of the elevator and entered the lobby on the eighth floor. He turned the corner to go to his office. Then Taylor saw the two men in black suits that were at his townhouse.
The men in black suits were talking to the three senior partners of the firm. One partner sees Taylor and pointed at him. All five men look at James Taylor.
Taylor didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked out of the office and back into the lobby and to the elevators. He made it just in time to an elevator on its way down.
The elevator’s bell dinged and it opened to the large and bustling lobby of the ground floor. No sooner did Taylor take one step out he saw five men in black suits standing at the exits. Taylor then just stepped back into the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor.
Before the elevator closed an old Hispanic janitor with a mop bucket entered just as the doors closed after the ding of the bell.
The janitor pushed the button for his floor, the third floor.
Taylor noticed the floor number the janitor pushed. Taylor looked at the janitor. “I’ve never been on the third floor. What’s on that floor?”
The old janitor looked at Taylor with a mellow look “Terd floor ees mechanical floor.”
“Mind if I have a look around?” Taylor asked with small beads of sweat on his head.
The old Hispanic janitor slowly nodded his head “Ees a free con-tree.”
After the truths Taylor just discovered he wanted to reply back to the janitor “boy are you in for a shock.” Instead Taylor smiled back at the nice man.
The doors to the elevator opened after the ding of the bell and the janitor and James Taylor scooted out onto the mechanical floor. The janitor strolled his way left as Taylor ducked to the right.
Taylor heard a ding from another elevator arriving on the floor. Just as soon as the door opened Taylor saw about ten men in black suits pour out onto the mechanical floor. They immediately went into a search pattern mode.
For a few moments, Taylor dodged, ducked and scurried around the floor in a dangerous game of hide and go seek.
Then Taylor spoted a garbage shoot. Taylor, without hesitation to life and limb or ruining an Armani suit dove into the garbage shoot.
Taylor plummeted four stories down to the basement into a giant dumpster.
Just as Taylor got his bearings from his free fall the dumpster began to vibrate and jolt around as a Patriot Pac dump truck starts hoisting it up.
Taylor leaped out of the dumpster and scurried behind a concrete support pillar. He looked around and noticed that his actions went un-noticed by the driver of the Patriot Pac Truck.
As the truck set down the empty dumpster Taylor spotted a small ladder on the side of the garbage truck. The ladder led up to the top of the truck.
Taylor bolted to the ladder and rushed up it to the roof. There he layed down on his stomach as the truck started to drive off.
The truck left the building with the now fugitive James Taylor lying on the roof wondering what his future would now be.
CHAPTER 5. The Word Getting Out?
Deputy Johnson, clutching a waste paper basket, was staring in awe at Taylor after he told his story.
Before telling his story, Taylor knew he had the Deputy’s attention. Now Taylor saw that he had entranced Johnson.
Realizing the depth of wonder he was in over a terrorist’s story, Deputy Johnson snapped into his poker face. He quickly went from a man in awe of a story to hard poker player trying not to show emotion “Wow, that was quiet the story.” Johnson went into a defensive mode to try and fool Taylor that he didn’t believe the yarn about conspiracies involving trash and oil filters. Johnson did this by putting up a sarcastic front. “Men in black suits. Wearing sunglasses at night. That’s like that movie with the aliens.”
Despite Johnson’s front of sarcasm, Taylor knew Johnson believed at least parts of the story; If not all
. Taylor proceeded past the good Deputy’s sarcasms. "You’ve read and discovered the inconsistencies of my criminal reports. What do you think?"
Deputy Johnson ducked the question. "Okay, so you stuck it to Patriot Pac and these agents by escaping on the roof of one of their trucks. So what happened next?"
Taylor leaned back in his cell and gazed at the wall across from him. “Gradual conditioning for submission starting with taking out your trash on time. All on a national scale. The people who do not cooperate or ask too many questions, they get a tracking system put in their vehicles so the government can monitor their moves.” Taylor looked at the Deputy “I had to try and get the word out."
"And how did you do that? Getting the word out that is? Cause this is the first time I’m hearing about it."
Taylor looked at the Deputy. "I started frequenting internet cafes. They were the first places I went to. But the government is pretty keen on keeping track of the internet. Every time I tried to post something about Liberty Lube or Patriot Pac they’d shut me down."
"How was that? They shut you down remotely? Or the just cut the power?"
Taylor smiled as he shook his head. "Oh no. Nothing like that. The computer would get inundated with pop ups of Liberty Lube coupons."
Deputy Johnson scrunched his eyebrows together in a curious and confused look. "Okay. So the man is apparently shutting you down. How were you going to get the word out?"
"After a month or so on the lam and getting shut down via regular channels, and knowing the government was not going to let up I had to take action. So I started out with a few bottles of vodka, a rag and a lighter."
Deputy Johnson put down the trash can he had been clutching onto. "So, Molotov cocktails was your action? Throw em and torch em huh?"
Taylor shrugged his shoulders. "Drastic action I know. But action to attract attention. Attention to the conspiracy and what Patriot Pac Sanitation is up to and what they did to me! And Lord knows who else stumbled on this information."
"Information like the propane company this Bennett guy was talking about? What about the propane? And the third step…"