“Lenny Brubaker, mighty glad to know ya,” the large, red-faced man said as he pumped Ingram’s hand.
“John Bingham,” Ingram replied, trying his best to smile and keep pace with the gusto of Brubaker’s handshake.
“So how’d you get hooked up with this job anyway? Positions with Red Apple don’t just grow on trees, ya know?” Brubaker said, standing back with an expectant smile on his face.
Playing along, Ingram bit back a grimace and smiled at the lame joke. “Just got lucky. Been trying for ages to get on here.”
“Don’t I know how that goes. Spent five long years paying my dues at a local Shaw’s Market before I got the call. It’ll all be worth it in the end though, I can promise ya that.”
The end, as it were, was something Ingram hoped was just a few hours away, though he stood and nodded anyway. “I hope you’re right.”
The two exchanged awkward smiles for a few moments longer before Lenny clapped his hands in front of him and nodded. “All right, so you’ll be riding with me the first few weeks until ya get your feet under ya. Hop in!”
Whistling, Lenny turned and climbed into the frozen container truck. Across from him, Ingram slid into the passenger seat and feigned interest as Lenny went through a lengthy list of things to be checked before departure.
Cooler temperature. Invoices for the day. Inventory in the truck. Addresses of deliveries.
The list was long and exhaustive.
Ingram bit back the urge to roll his eyes at the tedium of it, knowing Thorn had been right. The satellite imagery wasn’t good enough to give them anything definitive and several of the people inside already knew him by sight. If there was ever going to be a chance to get a relay point on the grounds, it had to be him that did it.
After determining that the only thing the property wasn’t completely self-sustainable on was high-end foods, the ruse had been easy enough to set up. Ingram called and pretended to be a worried parent with a forlorn son that couldn’t seem to catch a break. Red Apple wasn’t too excited about taking on a new employee or starting him the next day, but after an hour of negotiating and a $5,000 bribe, he was the newest member of the company.
Any suspicions or inhibitions they had completely evaporated at the promise of money, as such things tended to.
Ten minutes after pulling away from the warehouse, Lenny eased the truck up behind a small market titled Simply the Best. The sign said they specialized in fresh, all-natural products, and Ingram didn’t doubt it as he climbed out of the truck to be greeted by the aroma of produce. He was introduced as The New Guy to the owners of the market and together he and Brubaker unloaded several large cases of fresh oysters and a flat of Maine lobster tails.
The second stop on the list was a small deli known for organic meats and cheeses, Lenny watching as Ingram unloaded cases of Havarti, Gouda, and Brie. Throughout he took up a post nearby with the owners, talking loud enough for Ingram to hear him, referring to him as Newbie the entire time.
Once the truck was loaded to capacity, they finally began their trek north up the coast.
“Now listen,” Lenny said as they approached the enormous mansion overlooking the ocean, “ya better let me do most of the talking in here.”
Ingram chose not to point out that Lenny had done ninety-eight percent of the talking so far that morning, instead keeping his attention outside, watching for any details that might prove useful later on. “Why’s that?”
“These guys, they enjoy their privacy. They don’t like a lot of idle chatter and prefer for us to be in and out as fast as possible.”
Forcing himself to stay in the present Ingram glanced over, feigning interest in the topic. “We piss them off at some point or something?”
A look of equal parts fear and foreboding crossed Brubaker’s face as he glanced back. “I get the impression that these aren’t the kind of folks that would keep us around if we’d pissed them off, ya know?”
“Got it,” Ingram said as they pulled up in front of a wrought-iron gate.
Dropping the driver’s side window, Lenny reached out and pushed the call button. A moment later a mechanized voice asked, “Who is it?”
“Red Apple, sir, here with your weekly delivery,” Lenny replied in a cheery voice that bordered on sing-song.
Outside, a pair of large cameras on either side of the gate moved along the length of the van. “Who’s the new guy?”
“John Bingham, just started today. I’m showing him around,” Lenny replied.
“ID?”
Ingram took his wallet from his back pocket and removed the driver’s license he had made the night before. He held it up to the window and watched as the closest camera pivoted and zoomed in close.
A few minutes later, the gate swung open.
“You weren’t kidding, were you?” Ingram whispered, doing his best to feign surprise.
“Be glad they’ve got cameras out here now. When I first started there were guards roaming the grounds. Big dogs, too.”
Ingram kept his head aimed straight ahead, though his gaze darted back and forth as the truck wound its way along the wooded lane toward the mansion. Thick trees dotted the yard and security cameras peeked out from each one.
A pair of Dobermans raised their heads from the front steps as they drove past, sniffing the air.
The lane wrapped around a tri-level house, much of the front covered with oversized glass windows. Thick columns were stretched the length of it, supporting matching porches on each level.
Eschewing the front entrance, Lenny followed the drive to a small ramp down to the lower level. A steel garage door rose as they approached, the van idling before pulling inside, the metal covering lowering itself back into place the moment they were parked.
A small man in a white chef’s outfit emerged from the underbelly of the building as they arrived, a taller woman in a matching outfit at his side. Two security guards dressed entirely in black stood on either side of the truck and surveyed every movement as Lenny and Ingram climbed out.
Neither one held a weapon, though their stooped posture made it clear they were used to doing so.
“Did you get my order change this morning?” the chef asked in a worried voice.
“Yes, Mr. Jinsen, we sure did. We were able to get our hands on some fresh lobster tails for you, as requested,” Lenny responded.
A relieved smile spread across the man’s face as he glanced from Lenny to Ingram.
“Thank you so much. Who is your new assistant?”
Ingram bristled at the term assistant, but said nothing.
“This is Mr. John Bingham, new employee with us,” Lenny said, extending a hand out wide.
“Ah yes,” Jinsen replied, nodding as if he already knew who Ingram was, ”and this is Ms. Kaitlin Esther, my new sous chef.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Lenny said as one of the guards gave a none-too-subtle cough. Picking up on the gesture, he pushed right ahead without waiting for a response from Esther. “Should we unload it in the same place as usual?”
“Yes, of course,” Jinsen replied, waiting for both to grab an armload of supplies before leading them inside. He stayed with them through each trip, scrutinizing every item they presented and shaking his head at those that didn’t pass muster.
Ingram’s original plan was to hide the access point in one of the cases of food, but it soon became apparent that the watchful eye of Jinsen would not allow it. He waited until the truck was almost unloaded before purposely falling back a few steps, letting the distance grow behind Lenny and Jinsen.
Waiting for Esther, he managed to pull her to the side and whispered, “I’m very sorry, but is there a restroom I could use, please?”
Her eyes grew a bit larger as she cast a glance in both directions. “It’s at the end of that hallway, but it’s supposed to be for staff only.”
“Please,” Ingram pleaded, letting her see the concern on his face. “Lenny bought me a large iced coffee for my first day and now I’m paying for it. I
’ll never make it clear back to the warehouse.”
In response Esther bit her lip, clearly concerned by the request. After a moment she nodded, the worry she felt at doing so obvious on her face. “Okay, but hurry. Last door on your right.”
“Thank you so much,” Ingram said, taking off at a fast clip before she had a moment to reconsider.
Moving in quick strides, he made it to the last door and ducked inside, shutting the door behind him. He gave the lock a quick twist before going to the toilet and removing the lid from the back reservoir.
Extracting the relay from his cargo pants, he secured it to the underside of the lid with double-sided tape and dropped it back into place.
Flushing the toilet once for effect, he was back on his way down the hall in less than a minute.
He arrived back into the pantry just as Lenny and Jinsen reappeared, pretending to reposition the last box he had carried in. A bashful smile crossed his features as he turned to look at them, pushing out a puff of air for effect.
“You don’t have to pretend,” Lenny boomed as he entered. “I know ya may have trouble keeping up right now, but you’ll get your feet under ya in no time!”
Ingram smiled again and made a show of wiping his brow as they exited the house and piled back into the truck. There was a quick exchange of paperwork between the sides and just twenty minutes after arriving they were back on their way, headed south.
Chapter Forty-Two
Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel Page 43