The Dead Peasants' Contract: A Sequel to The Dead Peasants File (The Dead Peasants' Series Book 2)

by L. Craig Harris

  Dillon untucked his shirt and pulled it up to reveal his scar. “Yes, one of Charles Morgan’s guards shot me a few weeks ago in Denver.”

  Isaac’s eyes got bigger as he stared at Dillon’s abdomen. “And you lived?”

  “Well, I was holding a laptop, and it took the bullet.”

  Isaac laughed out loud. “Now I’ve seen everything! It went through the laptop?”

  “It stopped in his muscle layer,” Christopher said.

  Isaac stopped laughing and looked at Dillon. “It could have killed you.” He tilted his head. “Did you file a report?”

  “Well, no sir, I was just trying to get out of there alive.”

  Isaac studied their faces a moment, glancing down at the papers in front of him. He got a serious look on his face. “I know Morgan kills a worker every now and then to get his insurance. Everybody knows it. I remember when you pushed that man’s truck over the side of the mountain five or six years ago. I was there.” He paused. “But I need a smoking gun. I need something that will get a conviction, otherwise no state’s attorney will touch it.”

  Christopher leaned forward. “Is there anything you can do with this information?”

  “You’re almost there,” Isaac said. “You got shot and you hacked these emails.” He shook his head. “But you got nothing. Your stomach is cold.”

  “I’m sure I could identify the man who shot me,” Dillon said.

  Isaac nodded his head and grinned. He put a chewed toothpick in his mouth. “Yeah, you probably could.” He looked at him for a moment. “Did you have a weapon when he shot you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Morgan’s lawyers would say you went to Denver to shoot up the place and a guard stopped you – and that’d be the end of it, or maybe you’d do some jail time as a domestic terrorist.”

  “But that’s not what happened,” Christopher said. “They came and found Dillon and shot him at a hotel.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “I don’t think so,” Dillon said. “But we were there because our friend Julia Reed was kidnapped from the store here in Springfield.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember that.” He rifled through the folders on his desk and then read from one of them. “She was safe at Charles Morgan’s house, and they arrested the guy that nabbed her.” He closed the manila folder it was in. “Case closed.”

  Christopher spoke up. “Did you know the Reed’s house burned while they were in Denver?”

  He reopened the folder. “I have a note here that says the cause of the fire was electrical.” He closed the folder again. “That is odd, I admit. Very suspicious. I’m sure you’re right that Morgan Retail had something to do with it, but when a case goes cold or gets closed there’s not much I can do.” He stared at both of them, in turn, with his right eyebrow raised. “What else you got?”

  “Uh, our phones,” Christopher said. “Tell him about our phones.”

  “We think they bugged our phones while we were in Denver,” Dillon said. “Mine and Chris’s, and Travis and Julia’s.”

  “Do you have them with you?”

  “We left them in the car.” Dillon looked back at the door. “Just in case.”

  Isaac squinted. “So, if forensics opens those phones, what are they gonna find?

  Dillon shrugged. “Well, a bug device.”

  Isaac shook his head. “No, it’s all electronic. There’s nothing to see.” He looked at Dillon. “Why do you think they’re bugged.”

  “A guy I work with hacked the system. He showed me the signatures.”

  “Again, it’s illegal to break into someone’s network. I would have to legally prove you’ve been bugged.” He looked at both of them. “You’re close. You really are. And I want to catch Morgan. I do. I’ll be the next Missouri State Attorney General if I can be the one to get him.” He chewed on the toothpick. “And live to tell about it.” He looked down at the manila folder on his desk. “But you obtained these emails illegally and none of this will convict.”

  Dillon sat up in his chair. “Do me a favor. Keep that folder. If something happens to me, use it to build a case.”

  Isaac stared back at him for a moment. “I can offer you police protection for 24 hours if you feel you’re being threatened.”

  “Not necessary.” Dillon stood and tucked his shirt back in. “Let’s go Chris.” He looked back at Isaac when he got to the door. “Chris and I are leaving the country tomorrow. We can’t contact the Reeds, and we’re going to check on them.”

  “What country?” Isaac wrote on a paper in front of him. “Where are you going?”

  “San Pedro, Belize.” He glanced at Christopher and back at Isaac. “If we don’t come back, it means Morgan got to us.”

  “Someone has to stop this company,” Christopher said, standing beside him. “They’re murdering people and have been for years. Now, other businesses are beginning to follow their model. Someone has to do something.”

  “We’re all afraid to cross them,” Dillon said. “We know what they are capable of doing. If they don’t like you, they’ll kill you. I’ve seen it, and I have the proof right in front of you.”

  Isaac stared at them with his thumb and forefinger on his chin as they exited the room.

  Dillon and Christopher checked their phones when they got into the car. Dillon opened the Morgan surveillance browser on his and studied it a minute. It looked quiet. No blue signatures to be seen.

  Dillon held up his phone and put his finger vertically in front of his lips. Then he spoke in a whisper. “Take me home now if you will.”

  When they got to Dillon’s house, he went to the kitchen, opened a counter drawer, took out the microchip, and put it back in his pocket.

  “Are you planning to take that with you to Belize?”

  “No, I have something else in mind.”

  Christopher tilted his head. “Okay. I trust you.”

  Dillon glanced over at him. “I think I’ll leave it in the surveillance room – make it look like I’m at work. I’m hoping we’ll be back before anyone notices I’m gone.”

  Christopher nodded. “Yeah, I hope so too.” Christopher turned to leave and then looked back at him. “It sounds like you plan to work tonight.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go in and work an hour or so, then tell Ryan I don’t feel well. That way I can get some sleep before we go.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Dillon kept an eye on his phone the rest of the afternoon, watching for blue signatures on the screen. Only one came into town. He watched its movement. It didn’t come anywhere near his house and left as quickly as it appeared. He decided it was nothing. He took a nap late in the afternoon and went to work at his normal time, just before eleven.

  His heart jumped when he walked into the surveillance room and Ryan wasn’t there. Ryan always beat him to work. He asked Roberto, whose shift he was relieving, if he had heard from him.

  “Not a word.”

  Dillon went and found the night manager. “Did Ryan call in tonight?”

  “Haven’t heard from him. Is he not here?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “That’s strange. He never misses.”

  Dillon tried to hide his fear and appear angry instead. “Well, look, I don’t feel good. I was going to call in.”

  The manager stared at him for a moment. “Just make sure you have your phone with you. I don’t think Morgan will close down if we miss one night, do you?”

  “No sir, I don’t.” He turned and started walking toward the surveillance room. “Maybe Ryan will show up in a minute.”

  Dillon went back into the room and put the microchip in a drawer. “I’ll be at work day and night for the next few days,” he said out loud to himself. Then he thought about his phone. If he took it with him, they could track or at least spy on him. But if he left it he couldn’t keep an eye out for them. He decided to leave his phone there, and buy a new one. He went back into the store and purchased a phone like h
is. Then he put the sim card from his old phone into it so his service and contacts would transfer.

  Dillon’s alarm woke him early the next morning. He brushed his teeth, gathered his underwear into an overnight bag, and checked his new phone for blue signatures as he waited for Christopher to pick him up. There were none in town. He kissed Gabby goodbye and told her he would see her in a couple of days.

  Christopher looked sleepy when he arrived. Dillon watched his phone as they headed toward the airport. He tried to put the code in to check for red signatures, but he couldn’t do it on his phone. That was something they could only do in the surveillance room for some reason. He glanced over at Christopher. “Still haven’t heard from Travis?”

  “No,” Christopher said.

  “Let me see your phone.”

  Christopher reached into his pocket and got it, and handed it to him. Dillon lowered the window and threw it out into a grass field beside the road. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “Really?” His voice was high. “You’re just going to throw it out the window?”

  “Everything’s backed up in the cloud, right?”

  “Oh, now you’re asking.” He paused a minute, then nodded. “Yes.”

  Dillon looked back at landmarks to see where they were in case he wanted to come looking for the phone when they got back. “I’ll go look for it when we get back. I just don’t want anyone to follow us, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, what about your phone?”

  Dillon held up his phone. “This is a new phone. I bought it last night in the store and left my old one in the office.” He glanced over. “I think we’re safe now. I think we can talk.”

  “I don’t like not having my phone with me,” Christopher said, looking forward.

  “I get that, but it was bugged. I’ll call Rachel and tell her to contact me if she needs to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, okay, that does make me feel better about it.” Christopher drove to the airport and parked. The two made their way through security and to their plane.

  Dillon looked out the window at the landscape, far below, as they flew south. He thought about how much this trip was costing him. He looked over at Christopher. “It’s ironic, but I couldn’t have afforded all of this if I hadn’t signed that contract.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s one good thing about it. Sean, at church, gave me five hundred dollars when he heard we were going. So he almost paid for my ticket.”

  “Wow! Really?” I guess that guy’s not so bad after all.”

  “No, he’s a good guy. In fact, he told me he was passing the hat to pay for your ticket too, he just didn’t have time before we left.”

  Dillon nodded. “Very nice. Very nice.” He fell asleep at some point during the six-hour flight. When he woke up, there was nothing to see but blue water out the window. He looked over at Christopher, but didn’t wake him. He was making a buzzing sound as he breathed.

  They landed in Belize City, and had to catch the ferry to San Pedro. That was another two hours. Dillon enjoyed the warm, salty, late afternoon air as he stood on the bow of the ferry. The water was clear turquoise in every direction, changing to blue toward the horizon.

  Dolphins came and surfed the wake of the boat, right underneath them. Dillon grabbed his phone and got video of it. He felt an adrenalin rush, seeing such a majestic display of nature. He was euphoric for several minutes, but then, as they kept traveling, the euphoria subsided and he felt a twinge of homesickness. He began to realize how far he was from the world he knew. He had never felt so isolated from Gabby and the kids. He felt like he was a million miles from Springfield. This may as well have been another planet, it was so different. He glanced at his phone. No signal.

  The ferry had an upper deck where people who walked on the boat could go up and sit. He and Christopher went up there for the second hour of the trip. Cars were parked on the first deck and people milled about in between them. Caribbean music played from the loudspeakers. Dillon had always liked the sound of steel drums.

  At first he didn’t like this feeling of isolation, but after a while he began to feel the stress of work and family and Morgan’s contract leaving him. He began to feel he had only himself to worry about. He knew Gabby was okay, and he was his own person down here. Maybe this was the real him. He began to relax. “I think I like it down here,” he said to Christopher, who was sitting beside him.

  “Yeah, I could get used to this.”

  He began to get a signal again as they approached San Pedro. Back to civilization, he thought. He checked for missed calls or texts. Nothing. He clicked over and checked for blue signals near his house in Springfield. There were none, but there were three blue dots at the store.

  When they landed, they secured a taxi to Travis’ house, another twenty minutes away.

  “I’ve only done this once,” Christopher said. “I hope I can find the place.”

  Dillon hoped he could too, and was pleased when Christopher guided them there. The sun was setting behind them as they walked up. It looked dark inside. Christopher knocked on the door. “Travis? Julia?”

  No answer. Dillon tried the door. It was locked. He checked under the mat for a key and above the door frame. One was there. He opened the door and went inside. He felt his heart rate elevating as he looked throughout the house. No sign of them.

  Christopher went outside and looked around. Dillon went into their bedroom and rifled through the night stands and chest-of-drawers. There, beneath the socks was a handgun. A .38 revolver. He checked it for bullets. It was loaded and there was a box of bullets on the other side of the drawer. He stuffed the gun into his pants and put a handful of bullets in his pocket.

  Christopher came up behind him. “So what do we do?”

  Dillon thought for a moment. “Let’s ask the neighbors. Maybe they know where they are.”

  It was getting dark as Dillon went to the neighbors to the right of the house. He knocked on the door. A middle-aged Latino lady came to the door.

  “Hello ma'am,” Dillon said. “I’m a friend of Travis’s. Do you know where he is?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him for several days,” she said with a British accent.

  “Okay, well, thank you. Sorry to bother you.”

  She went back into the house. Dillon headed back toward Travis’s house and met Christopher running toward him.

  “I know where they are,” Christopher said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seagulls woke up Dillon early the next morning, even before the alarm on his phone alerted him. He went out and stood on the beach for several minutes. The sun was rising from the ocean. He had never seen a sunrise from that angle before. It was beautiful, its light sparkling on the sea. He breathed the early-morning air and felt of the cool sand between his toes.

  He went back in and woke up Christopher. “Hey, our boat guy is leaving in thirty minutes.”

  The two of them ate cereal at the table. The milk was a day or two past its stamp. Dillon found the coffeemaker and brewed a pot. He poured it into a cup from the cabinet and took a sip. “So, he thinks he can take us to them?”

  “Yeah, he said there will be a group of boats out looking for whale sharks. He says they’re with them.”

  “I don’t like the sound of a whale shark.”

  Christopher laughed. “No, they’re harmless. You can swim with them.”

  “Well, you can.” Dillon lit a cigarette.

  “I thought those were just for your breaks at work?”

  Dillon flicked the ashes in his coffee cup. “I plan to quit when all of this is over.” He looked at Christopher for a moment. He was thinking it may be a long time before all of this is over. It may not ever be over. “Besides, Morgan will probably kill me long before these smokes do.”

  The men walked several houses down the beach and found the man who had agreed to take them out to sea. Dillon paid him eighty dollars cash. They rode with him to the dock in his rusty pickup and got onto t
he boat. The boat was made of wood, with a cabin in the front, and a steering wheel on the upper deck. Dillon had seen this type of craft in the movies, but had never been on one. He was already thinking they needed a bigger boat before they set out.

  Their escort had dark skin and shoulder-length dreadlocks in his thick dark hair. He had a huge smile, although one of his teeth in the front was missing. He was born on Ambergris Island and had never been to the states although he spoke perfectly good English with what Dillon thought must be a Jamaican accent. His name was Arten King, but he said everyone just called him Tiny. Some nickname he had picked up when he was young, and it stuck. He wasn’t so small anymore, though, he was more than six-feet tall and had an athletic physique, including a flat stomach that exposed itself when he went up the ladder in his untucked, button-down, flower-printed shirt.

  Dillon was from Missouri and wasn’t sure he liked all of this ocean-faring business. He began to feel seasickness as they motored out into the waves. The ferry had been much larger and hadn’t affected him so much. He looked over at Christopher, who wasn’t doing a whole lot better, then yelled up to Tiny. “Is there anything to drink on board?”

  “Oh yeah, I have plenty. I have a cooler in there with ice and water bottles.”

  “That’s good. Thanks. So, how long until we get there?”

  “I’d say about three hours.”

  Three hours. Dillon tried to get comfortable. He sat in the cabin some, but out in the wind mostly. His seasickness seemed to calm down as they got farther out. He found it helped to look straight ahead. Christopher stood next to Dillon for much of the trip, watching the ocean pass beneath them.

  Dillon went up the ladder and stood by Tiny for several minutes. “So, where are we going?”

  “Lighthouse Reef. Ever heard of it?”

  “No I haven’t”

  Tiny glanced over at him. “Ever hear of the blue hole?”

  “Blue hole? No, I can’t say I have.”

  Tiny grinned. “You’re gonna love dis.” He looked at his watch. “We should be coming up on dem pretty soon. Keep an eye out.”