Beyond the Cabin

by Dana Ridenour

  Lexie ran her hands through her hair.

  “Do you trust him?” Lexie glared at Tony. “Your source. Do you trust your source?”

  “Of course, he’s a good guy,” Tony said.

  “Let me rephrase the question. Do you trust him with my life?”

  4

  To avoid being seen around the FBI office, Lexie met Don at a restaurant in North Myrtle Beach. Don had selected a quiet corner booth away from other customers.

  The two ordered drinks and appetizers before getting down to work.

  Lexie looked around to make sure no one could overhear their conversation.

  “Don, none of this makes sense to me. I’ve scoured the case file, looked at all the crime scene photos, and I can’t make heads or tails of this case. These two events seem to be the only ELF actions to ever take place in South Carolina.”

  “I know,” Don responded. “I’ve thought the same thing.”

  “Tell me more about the company who’s building the bridge.”

  “Global Resources Inc. is a real estate investment, management, and development enterprise based in Charleston, South Carolina. The current CEO of GRI is Dwight Jacobson. The company was founded by Jacobson’s grandfather in the forties. GRI has been at the center of many landmark deals. Some have been controversial, like the Spirit Island deal.”

  “If you grease the right skids, you can accomplish anything,” Lexie added.

  “Exactly.” Don continued, “The Jacobsons are a wealthy and powerful old Charleston family. No one messes with them.”

  “I guess that ELF didn’t get the memo,” Lexie said, laughing.

  “Guess not. Tell me about the Earth Liberation Front. I’ve never worked domestic terrorism, so I’m not familiar with their group or their tactics.”

  “The Earth Liberation Front is an international underground organization that uses direct action to sabotage corporations and government agencies that profit from the destruction of the natural environment. The movement has no leadership, membership, or official spokesperson. The activists operate as a loose-network of individual cells.”

  Lexie took a swig of her sweet tea, then continued. “Members of the ELF have destroyed luxury homes, SUVs, and other private property, causing millions of dollars in damages. Their method of operation is to protect the environment through property destruction.”

  Don scowled. “It seems like a pretty chicken shit way to operate, burning down people’s businesses. What does that accomplish?”

  “Many of the businesses can’t afford to rebuild after the destruction. That’s what the ELF members are banking on. Either that or the company decides the cost isn’t worth the risk of future ELF attacks.”

  “I don’t see GRI backing down to a bunch of ragtag terrorists. This is a large corporation with significant assets. I interviewed Jacobson after the first attack and I can tell you he won’t take this lying down.”

  “What’s Jacobson like?” Lexie asked.

  “He’s an indomitable force. He takes great pride in his family’s business.”

  “Is it still a family-run company?”

  “Jacobson has two sons, but only one works at GRI. The oldest son is estranged from the family. I had to pull teeth to get Jacobson to discuss his oldest son during the interview. Apparently, the oldest son dropped out of college and moved to the Pacific Northwest.”

  Lexie cocked her head like a terrier.

  “Where in the Pacific Northwest?”

  “He claimed he didn’t know. Jacobson said he hasn’t seen his son in ten years. He described him as a free-spirited hippy-type and dropped the subject.”

  The server placed a plate of hummus and tortilla chips on the table near Lexie and buffalo chicken wings near Don. The tangy smell of buffalo sauce made Lexie’s mouth water.

  “Can I get you two anything else right now?”

  Don surveyed the table before answering. “We’re good for now.”

  The waitress smiled and walked away.

  “You were telling me about the Jacobson sons,” Lexie said.

  “That’s right. So, the oldest is estranged and living life as a hippy. The younger son, Aaron, is following in his father’s footsteps and working for GRI. He graduated from college and immediately started working for daddy.”

  “The dutiful son,” Lexie said.

  The server refilled their tea glasses and left.

  “Tell me about the land deal. How did it come about in the first place?”

  Don gnawed the meat from a peg leg. Orange sauce garnished the corners of his mouth.

  “Long story short, GRI underhandedly purchased a large tract of land on Spirit Island under the guise of setting up a nature conservatory. Turns out only a tiny section of the tract will be designated as a conservatory; the rest will be used to house a high-end resort. They originally planned to build a marina, but the water isn’t deep enough to build the kind of marina that could support mega-yachts. After the plan for the marina was nixed, GRI decided to build a private bridge to the island. Only employees and guests of the resort would have access to the bridge. The island locals could only use the bridge for emergency reasons.”

  “That sounds like a shitty deal,” Lexie said.

  “Yeah. GRI tried to keep the resort details under wraps, but someone from inside the company leaked the information to the press. The reporter wrote a scathing article about how the company was destroying the environment to build a resort that only the rich and famous could afford. The bridge details were included in the article, which caused all the conservation groups to get involved in the fight. Plans were tied up in court, but ultimately Jacobson paid off the right people, and GRI was allowed to proceed with their project.”

  Don picked up another chicken wing.

  “ELF may have found the story from the newspaper. It still seems crazy that an extremist cell would find their way to South Carolina.”

  “Do they travel for their cause?” Don asked.

  “Sometimes, but not usually this kind of distance. Most ELF activists live in the Pacific Northwest or on the West Coast. It’s rare to see an ELF action this far south. That’s why I was asking about Jacobson’s son. I’m wondering if he might have brought the situation to the attention of the ELF.”

  “Seems like a stretch to me,” Don said with a mouthful of food.

  “Maybe, but I think we need to try to find out where the oldest Jacobson son lives and if he has ties to any activist groups. Has anyone interviewed the younger son?”

  “No. Why? The kid is a low-level executive in the company. He’s being groomed to take over the business at some point, so why would he want any harm to come to the company?”

  “I guess you’re right about him, but I would still check out the older son.”

  “I can do that,” Don replied. “How are you going to approach the undercover aspect of the case?”

  “Normally I hang out in places where the targets hang out and ingratiate myself with them. This situation is different, because I’ve looked all over Pawleys Island, Litchfield, and Murrells Inlet and there doesn’t seem to be any activist groups. There are none of the usual activist hangouts and, in fact, there’s not even a vegan restaurant in the whole area. Not even in Myrtle Beach.”

  Don looked confused.

  “Most environmental extremists are like the animal extremists; they don’t eat meat. The majority are hardcore vegans. You’re looking at me like you don’t understand the words coming out of my mouth.”

  “This shit is all foreign to me. What’s a vegan? Is it some kind of vegetarian?”

  Lexie swallowed a mouthful of hummus and continued, “A vegan does not eat or use animal products, to include dairy. To make it simple, if it has a face, they don’t eat it. They don’t wear leather products, or use any products that were tested on animals.”

  “Why? I understand why the crazy animal rights people don’t eat animals, but why are the environmental activists vegan?”

 
“Not all the environmental activists are vegan, but a good number of them are. There’s a large crossover between the animal rights and the environmental activists. Environmentalists believe that factory farming is responsible for the abuse of land, animals, and natural resources for the sole purpose of providing cheap, unhealthy food to the masses. Factory farming harms the planet because of air pollution, deforestation, water pollution, monocultures, and fossil fuels and carbon emissions.”

  “Mono what?” Don wiped the buffalo sauce from his mouth. “Never mind. I don’t really care. You have to deal with these people, not me.”

  “Just so you realize what we’re up against, most of the animal and environmental activists who I have come in contact with are highly intelligent. Many are college graduates with advanced degrees. They aren’t your typical street criminals.”

  “If they’re so smart, then why don’t they get real jobs to legally fight environmental decay? Why break the law?”

  “Probably because making changes using legal means takes too long. The activists start out with noble intentions, but they go too far,” Lexie said. “When they start employing arson as a means to an end, then it becomes our problem.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not more help, Lexie. This is out of my area of expertise and we don’t have any sources who can help. I’m at a loss.”

  “I’ll come up with something. It might take a little time, so be patient. By the way, when do I get to meet my contact agent? That’s usually one of the first things I do.”

  Don grabbed his iced tea, took a few drinks, then set it back in front of him. He looked around and scratched his head.

  “You know that we only have three people assigned to our office.”

  Lexie’s throat started to constrict. “Yes. And?”

  “Since Zach and I are co-case agents on this case, neither one of us could be assigned as your contact agent. For purpose of the case, we had to list Tony as your contact agent.”

  “Oh, HELL no. I’m not working with that narcissistic cretin.”

  “You won’t have to. We had to list someone as your contact agent for headquarters to approve our operation. We won’t make you work with Tony. You can come to me for anything that you need. I’ll do double duty as the case agent and your contact agent. It’s no big deal.”

  Lexie rubbed the back of her neck. “It is a big deal, Don. The contact agent plays a huge role in the success of the case. That person has to be solely dedicated to the undercover agent. There’s a reason that the case agent is not allowed to be the contact agent. The contact agent’s sole responsibility is the welfare of the undercover agent. Don’t you have a task force agent working with you? I don’t care if the person is an FBI agent. In fact, the best contact agent that I ever had was a female LAPD detective when I worked the case in Los Angeles.”

  “We have a couple Myrtle Beach Police Officers who we regularly work with, but I’m not sure about using either one as a contact agent.”

  “So, you’re basically telling me that I’m on my own.”

  “Not at all. Zach and I will both be available twenty-four seven to help you with whatever you need.”

  The hairs on the back of Lexie’s neck stood up. The little voice in her head told her to forget about this case and go home.

  “Lexie, are you still onboard?”

  Lexie took a moment to ponder the situation before answering.

  “Yeah, we’ll give it a shot and see how things go. Just keep Tony away from me and the case.”

  Don smiled. “Not a problem.”

  5

  Lexie woke the next morning ready to hit the ground running. She opened the refrigerator and realized that before she could do anything, she needed to buy food. She made her grocery list and hopped in her car. She noticed a black sports car pull out from her condo complex behind her. The sports car dropped back but stayed behind her.

  You’re letting your imagination get the best of you, she thought.

  Lexie parked her car and nonchalantly entered the grocery. After prowling the aisles and picking up supplies, she returned to her car. Prior to leaving, she took a little extra time to inconspicuously look around the parking lot. There it was, the same black sports car sitting in the adjacent parking lot. She called Don, but the call went directly to his voicemail.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Lexie heard the beep.

  “Hey, Don. I think I have a black sports car tailing me. I’ll try to swing around and get a look at the driver or cop the tag. Call me when you get this message.”

  Lexie took the long way out of the parking lot, crossing over to the adjacent parking lot. The parking brakes on the sports car lit up and before Lexie could get a good look at the driver or the license plate, the car shot out of the parking lot. She considered following the car, but thought better of that idea. Instead of driving straight back to her condo, Lexie drove all over Pawleys Island and Litchfield to ensure no one followed her home. She remembered her training—three right turns, if the car is still behind you, then you’re being followed. She made the turns, saw no one in her rearview mirror, and headed back to the condo.

  ***

  An hour later Don called.

  “Lexie, are you alright?”

  “Thanks for the quick call back.”

  “Sorry. I was in a meeting. What happened?”

  Lexie explained what occurred.

  “You just got into town. Who would be following you?”

  “No idea. The driver had on a baseball hat. I think he was a white male. I wanted to get the tag, but I think the driver was on to me because he shot off like a rocket.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “A black Dodge Challenger, probably a couple years old.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t followed home?”

  “I don’t think so. I did a series of heat runs on my way home to make sure I wasn’t being followed.”

  “Good job. I’m going to see if I can get one of our task force officers approved to work full time on this investigation. I want to have someone assigned as your back up.”

  “How about assigned as my freakin’ contact agent? I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, but I need someone who is going to answer the phone on the first ring. I know you’re busy, Don, and I’m not judging you, but I need a contact agent. This arrangement isn’t working.”

  “I know. I know. You’re right. I’ll get an actual contact agent assigned to this case. Give me a day or two. Do you want me to send Zach to your area?”

  “No need for that. I’ll be fine.”

  “Call me if you need anything. I promise I’ll keep my phone with me and always answer on the first ring.”

  Promises. Promises.

  6

  Lexie wanted to get a closer look at the GRI worksite. She located a marina fairly close to the site of the future bridge and rented a kayak. Crouched over the faded, sit-on-top kayak, Lexie placed her camera in a waterproof bag and stowed it in the storage compartment. While attempting to install the seat, a shadow encircled her, causing her to look up. A thin man with weather-worn skin and a long, smoky gray beard stood over her. He rubbed his scraggly beard and stared.

  “Can I help you?” Lexie asked.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing, missy. You look a little confused. Need some help?”

  “Naw, I got it,” Lexie replied.

  “Suit yourself, although you’re puttin’ the seat on backwards,” he said, walking away.

  Lexie looked down and realized the old man was right.

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. Sweat from the muggy South Carolina heat poured down her face and into her eyes as she attached the seat for her expedition.

  Grabbing her paddle from the dock, she placed the kayak in the water and carefully lowered herself upon it. As she paddled away, she noticed the old man watching her from a table in the shade. He raised his beer to her as she paddled off.

  It’s five o’clock somewhe
re, she thought.

  Lexie enjoyed the first two hours of the adventure. She paddled near shore under the protection of spooky Spanish moss hanging from the ancient cypress trees. She admired the large wading birds standing near the shore. Their beauty reflected on the smooth surface of the black water.

  After Lexie examined the GRI work site from her water vantage point, she paddled toward Spirit Island. Four hours into her expedition, she realized that she had gravely underestimated the distance that she needed to travel to get to and from Spirit Island. She drank all her water and ate her only protein bar. The tide had changed, forcing her to fight against the current. Even the trees abandoned her, no longer offering her shade from the treacherous South Carolina summer sun.

  “I’m such a dumb ass,” Lexie screamed. “I can’t believe I thought I could do this without a motor boat.”

  Despite her best efforts, the strong tidal current carried the kayak near the river bank. A large alligator watched as Lexie drifted in his direction. She paddled hard to give the alligator some space as the large reptile slid into the water. Her muscles were beginning to tire and ache.

  Oh no. Where did you go?

  Lexie used the last of her energy to put some distance between her and the alligator. Just when she thought she could relax, she was swarmed by insects. Mosquitoes and gnats targeted Lexie’s flesh, biting and stinging unmercifully, making her even more miserable.

  Six hours into her ordeal, Lexie began to cry from exhaustion. Parched from not packing enough water for the day, sunburned despite applying sunscreen and wearing a hat, and completely exhausted, Lexie was scared. She didn’t know the area well enough to have confidence in her ability to find the marina after dark. She heard the faint sound of a motor in the distance.

  As the watercraft approached, she realized that it was the old man from the marina. Once again, he tipped the ever-present beer her way. Lexie quickly wiped the tears from her face.

  Why him? she thought. This is embarrassing.