by Edward Goble
Chapter 23
The evening air was brisk and fresh and the walk was invigorating. He arrived a few minutes early and waited outside for her. As she pulled by their eyes met and he motioned her in to the valet parking area for simplicity. He gave a five to the valet and held the ticket for Debbie.
She was beautiful. She was wearing a tender purple Amethyst on a silver chain and matching ear rings that offset the deep brown in her hair but paled in comparison to the life twinkling in her big blue eyes and her bright, generous smile. She was wearing grey slacks and jacket over an ivory rayon button up blouse. Andy couldn’t remember seeing anyone so beautiful in his life.
He automatically extended his hand, but again, she stepped through and hugged him. “I’m a hugger, remember?” she said.
“I don’t know how I could forget,” he said. “Debbie, I don’t know the right thing to say right here, but, may I tell you that you look beautiful?”
She smiled at his careful simplicity, “You may,” she said with a slight curtsy.
“Okay. Then, Debbie,” he grinned at the chance to say it again, “you look really beautiful this evening.”
“Thank you, and you look quite dashing yourself,” she added. Andy was wearing black. He thought it was usually the safest attire for him in public. People said it was “slimming” and when he spilled food on himself, which he regularly did, it wouldn’t show as bad as on lighter colors. He resisted explaining his logic, although he was tempted to in order to fill up empty gaps between talking.
“Shall we go in?” She smiled, jarring him back in to the present.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah, let’s go in, I think they have a table ready for us.” He gave his name to the hostess who invited the couple to follow her in to the restaurant. Andy walked behind Debbie and couldn’t help but notice the light, floral scent of her perfume and realized that he was usually in a near trance at this point with the scent of char broiled steak as it wafted through the building. “I like the perfume better, well, just as good,” he thought. They sat and instinctively glanced at the menus that the hostess provided.
“I’ve never been here,” Debbie said.
“Me either, although I’ve heard it’s great.”
“Me, too.”
Andy couldn’t concentrate on the menu; he would just pick something simple when the time came. He was so excited to be out on an actual date, if that’s what this was, and he was pretty sure it was. “So, what do you think?”
“A friend at school told me to try the filet, so I guess that’s what it will be. She said it’s so tender you could cut it with a fork.”
“I’ve always heard that, but I’ve never tried it.”
“Its just hyperbole, isn’t it? Like ‘I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.’”
“I bet you’re right, but we should try it, that way we’d be able to say for sure.”
“Deal,” she laughed. After they’d ordered and received their drinks, Debbie studied her little silver pot of hot tea, dipping the tea bag in the water allowing it to steep.
“Can I tell you something? In all honesty?” Andy said.
“Sure, absolutely,” Debbie said, looking up at him.
He looked at her big light blue eyes and honest face and felt safe. “I’ve never been out on a real date before,” he admitted.
“Is this a real date?” she asked.
“To me it is,” he said.
“My turn, then,” she said, piercing his face with her lovely stare. “I have never been out on a date someone as interesting and sweet as you.”
“That can’t be true,” he said quickly.
“It’s true,” she said. “I’m a pretty conservative, quiet person in general. I’m not out there looking for a relationship, necessarily. I don’t do this with any regularity.”
“So your dance card isn’t booked for two years like I expected?”
“What’s a dance card,” she laughed.
“So, why me? Why come out to dinner with a goof like me?” he said.
“I don’t know, Andy. I see something in you that I really respect, I guess. It’s just honesty, or vulnerability, or something. I don’t know, like I say, I just like it. I’m drawn to it.”
He nodded his head in silence. He didn’t know what to make of that assessment, honest and vulnerable. “Is that good?” he thought but didn’t say.
They enjoyed their filet mignon and baked potatoes. Neither was able, without making a squishy mess, to cut their meat with a fork. But they had a lot of fun trying.
“So what did you think about our church?” she asked after the server brought a fresh pot of hot water and a new tea bag as well as a coffee for Andy.
He looked in the black liquid searching for a simple answer. “I liked it. I know that’s trite, but, I... I didn’t expect to like it, you know? I was completely emotionally prepared to dislike the experience. I came to share something that my mother felt strongly about, because she’s always done that for me, and I came because I wanted to see you again. But I didn’t come to enjoy the service. That was a surprise. A bonus.”
“There’s that honesty thing I told you I was drawn to,” she said. “What did you like about it, or, what were you prepared to hate?”
“Well, I was prepared to hate the pretense, the end of the world, turn or burn, stuff. I was ready for all of that. But it didn’t happen. What I liked was looking around and seeing people that appeared to be just as mixed up and dopey as me. And I saw them smiling and happy and honestly expressing their hearts in worship to a God that none of us has ever seen. That’s what surprised me.”
“That people with problems can also be people at peace with God and with themselves?”
“Yeah, I guess. Maybe that’s it.”
Debbie shrugged and nodded. “I’ll tell you, that’s how I feel a lot of the time. Like I have problems and issues that I’ll never be able to fix, but over and above that reality, there is the reality of a personal God who has lovingly crafted me to be in relationship with Him and to be at peace with myself and with the world... That reality kind of trumps all the yucky feelings.”
“All the time?”
“No. I wish. But, as I keep walking with Christ, I’d say I have more peace and less conflict in my life, in that sense.”
He smiled, “Less conflict. That would be nice. Sometimes it seems like conflict should be my middle name.”
She nodded.
“Take this week,” he shook his head, “If we had the time…”
“What? What was it?”
“Ah, it’s a long story,” he said.
“Hey, time is something we have,” she smiled.
“Well, uh, okay... Well, My neighbor, the owner of the little deli where I eat all the time, received a package in the mail, only it wasn’t for him, it was for his nephew who has the same name, Albert. The nephew sent the package there figuring he would pick it up later that day. So, anyway, the uncle opens it and what does he find? A kilo of marijuana.”
“No way,” Debbie said, and Andy just nodded.
“So I’m over there and he calls me up to his apartment and shows me the stuff and asks me what he should do. Well I don’t know, you know? Should he call the police, should he flush it down the toilet, give it to the nephew, what?” Andy said. “And then, the kid goes berserk and tears the house apart and pushes his uncle, you know, and shoves his aunt out of the way and she goes falling down a flight of stairs! This little old woman! And the kid runs away. I mean he’s a drug dealing little chump, right? Debbie’s mouth fell unconsciously open as she shakes her head, glued to every word.
“Now the police come and the whole thing, and the lady, Mrs. Martin is in a coma, you know, she’s knocked totally out. And her hip is cracked, or dislocated or something. It’s all just totally surreal.” While they are at the hospital the kid breaks in to the apartment again, to find the stuff! This time he finds it. So a police cruiser is driving by an they see how the place has been broken
in to so they find Mr. Martin at the hospital and I drove him home, and the officer is like, ‘Do you know who did this,’ and Mr. Martin just told him the whole story. He is livid. He might have strangled the kid right then...” Andy paused for a drink of water.
“So, anyway, the police go over and arrest the chump and confiscate the drugs, right? End of story, but then, these sleazy loan sharks show up at the Deli and want to know where the kid is. I guess he borrowed money from them at this outrageous interest, right? It’s like, what else could happen to these folks. Well, the uncle tells them the kid is in jail or something. And they basically say, ‘Okay, then you have to pay it.’”
“No way. Pay for the kids loan?” she said, hungering for the rest of the story.
“I know—that’s what I thought. But these guys are totally threatening, you know? So Mr. Martin finds the kid and says, you know, you’ve got to pay these guys. And the kid just blows it off. He was going to pay them back with the drug money, but now that the deal blew up, he just doesn’t care... So, who knows, they come break his legs and then go after the Martins. And they have enough problems, you know, with Mrs. Martin in the hospital and Mr. Martin dealing with all this crap. I mean...”
“So what happened?”
“I just figured, shoot, you know, I’ve got the money, and I just paid it for them. It was selfish, probably, because I just didn’t want my world to change. I really like them; I don’t want them to move back to Germany or something, you know? So the whole thing sort of works out, the kid is still looking at time, but geez, that was his choice, right? The point is all this is happening all around us, all the time, it’s like, I don’t know...”
Debbie nodded and smiled that special smile that pushes her round cheeks up into her eyes, squishing them in to little blue slits. She reached across the table and covered one of his hands with both of hers. “That’s amazing.”
“Wild week,” he said.
“I see what you mean about the whole, conflict thing.”
“Would you like to meet them? The Martin’s?”
“Wow. Yeah, I’d love to.”
“Mrs. Martin is coming home tomorrow and they’re inviting a few people over. I don’t know if you drink beer, but he always brings out the best German beer for his little parties, they’re legendary in our neighborhood.”
“Andy, what an amazing life you have!”
“Trust me, usually most of the turmoil is in here,” he pointed to his head. This was the strangest week of all time. Culminating in tonight.” He spread his arms in disbelief, “Here I am sitting at dinner with a wonderful woman, talking and laughing like we’ve known each other for years. I could get used to this!” He said. “This is not the kind of thing that happens to a reclusive, depressed, introverted professional dieter, I’ll tell you that,” he laughed.
Debbie smiled and shook her head, “I think you are a pretty special man, Andy Boyd... I’m glad we met.”
Andy paid the bill and left a generous tip for the servers who graciously left them alone for an extra long time on a busy night. He covered her valet tab and held the door for her when the car pulled up to the curb. This time he opened his arms for a hug and she stepped in and put her head against his chest and held him for a long moment. He gently put his nose against her hair and inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent. Finally, Debbie pulled back and reached up on her tiptoes, kissing him softly and tenderly on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Andy tried to talk, but couldn’t. He’d been pecked on the cheek over the years at parties and events, but never really kissed. Not like that. He managed to shut the door of the car and avoid having his toes run over by inches. He watched her drive away with his hand pressed to his cheek, subconsciously feeling the touch of her lips. He walked home in a daze, stopping at Starbucks for another coffee to keep his hands warm.
Wednesday morning Andy was up again at 8:00 am. He couldn’t wait for the evening party, but he was also closing in on the end of the Rance Broadback novel and knew that it would do his heart and mind good to get to the end of that project by the end of the day. He showered and opened his computer to post his morning blog.
Andy’s Weblog - November 14th
Less of Me
I don’t know exactly what is happening to me, but I think I have a clue after last night. This month began with a grandiose commitment on my part to make good decisions about what I would eat with the goal being to lose the extra weight that I’ve been carrying around since Jr. High School. Well, if you’ve followed these blog entries, you know that the effort has not had the greatest of results. Not only have I gained several pounds, I have vacillated between mood swings as broad as the side of a barn. I’ve had thoughts of suicide, chucked the contents of my kitchen in the dumpster, gone without food, binged on too much food. I’ve felt alternately crappy and hopeless and fine and pretty good, all month long.
And I’ve finally learned something. I think.
I was talking to a new friend and it began to dawn on me that the more I do for other people, the less I think of myself. The more of others that I put in my life, the less of me I have to contend with. Now, if there is less of me, does that make me lighter? Well, in terms of mass and gravity and the whole physics side of things, no. But it sure seems to lighten the burden of being me.
Becoming bearable – Andy
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Appalachian Malady - 14
The drive through the warehouse was uneventful. Rance had the sheriff’s hat tilted so that his face was partially covered as he drove through and waved to a few forklift drivers and guards. He turned left out of the drive doors and headed down the fire road to where he’d stashed the ‘borrowed’ pickup. He pulled the cruiser up to the gate and opened the trunk. He extracted a big set of bolt cutters from the Sheriff’s emergency gear and cut the chain that held the heavy gate fast. It took all the strength he had left to muscle the rusty steel bar open. He pulled through, leaving the way open for the feds, and stashed the Sheriff’s car up off the road. “I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up back at the mine. Will you be okay right here for an hour or so? You probably shouldn’t stay in the car, in case anyone happens to see it.”
“I’ll shimmy up the hill a ways. Take your time, I’ll be right here.” John forced out a painful smile.
Rance sped away and then eased back on the throttle as he approached the gate of the Cedar Ridge Mine. It had taken half an hour to make the loop back around to the front of the mine. The guards were waiting for him; he was the last to arrive. They let him in and locked the gate behind him. He drove up to the warehouse and parked in front of the line of dark SUV’s.
The Investors were assembled in the smaller warehouse Sheriff McCoy had parked in front of and described as the ‘office’ when Michael/Rance and Sophia had arrived for their tour. A guard opened the outer door for Pena/Broadback and he stepped into an open room with furnishings similar to those in the room where he and Sheriff McCoy had recently parted company. “They must have pulled in as I was pulling out. Close.” Rance said to himself.
“Michael,” Rafferty said, uneasily. “You had us a little worried, there.”
“Michael checked his watch. I’m a truck driver, James, I’m always right on time,” he laughed and Rafferty joined him. “It’s just now 3:00 pm. did I miss the start time?”
“No,” the Senator volunteered as her nerves simmered down, “I suppose we were just a bit early. Anxious to get this started.” She smiled and shook hands with the new investor. “I think you know every one here,” she said.
Pena shook hands with John Welsh and William Prate. “Good to see you gentlemen again,” he said.
Rafferty stepped forward, “I don’t think you’ve met Mr. Williams, Michael... Mr. Williams, Michael Pena.” Williams was wearing a dark suit and dark glasses. Rance wondered if the Senior FBI ace would recognize him from their only prior meeting. Rance would have kno
wn him anywhere.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Michael said. His greeting was met with a subtle nod and a weak handshake. Williams thought for a moment that the Spaniard looked familiar, but he was too self-conscious about his own mystique to be as keen as he should have been.
“Now then, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Rafferty said. Michael/Rance checked his watch; it was 3:05 pm.
“Where’s Sheriff McCoy? Rance asked. “Isn’t he a full partner, or Investor?”
“Yes, uh, well...” Rafferty looked around the room. The consensus feeling among the group was that Buddy McCoy was the weak link. A necessary evil that they allowed to be a partner for two reasons: one, because the whole operation had been his idea, though it had grown far beyond his simple means and intelligence. And, two, he was married to the Senators cousin, which, unfortunately, made him difficult to discard.
“He’s a big boy, James. We all knew the time of the meeting,” Senator Lecter said.
“He lives here, for crissake. The rest of us traveled from God knows where,” Welsh added.
“So, I suppose we can fill the Sheriff in on the details at a later date. Everyone in agreement on that?” Rafferty said and looked around the room. He didn’t expect Michael to mind, he should be smart enough to know that the room was filled with the key players.
Rance checked the time again; in eight minutes the feds would be blasting in here with the force of an invasion. “I’ve briefed the Investors on the arrangement we are making with Pena Logistics for the interstate transportation of all products from Alta Loma Distribution.” Rafferty said. “As we discussed, we will begin with a group of twelve tractors and twenty four containers and twenty four container trailers. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
“Yes, and let me say how excited I am to be working with you. I asked Mr. Rafferty to allow me the latitude to call you all together today to sign this contract because, by all appearances, this is an arrangement that may have far-reaching, very lucrative consequences for us all. I like to know whom I am working with. I expect that you want to know who I am as well. Now, I would expect that you have run background checks and what-not, but I wanted you to see me, in the flesh so you know exactly who you are making a contract with.”
“Sounds good to me, Michael,” William Prate said. “I’m tired of doing all my buying and selling over the Internet. It’s nice to actually meet someone face to face and do business man to man, like the old days. Pardon me Senator, you know what I mean.” She nodded in approval.
Rafferty knew both the impatience and the inconvenienced schedules of the out of town investors so he pulled out the contract that Prate had prepared for the occasion.
“Let’s get to what we are all here for, shall we?” Rafferty said smiling like the cat that got the biggest mouse. He walked around the table to Michael’s chair and set the paper down in front of him along with a Monte Blanc fountain pen. “Michael, this is a standard contract, if you’d like to read over it you’ll notice that it provides either party the ability to canceling at any time, with a standard thirty day written notice.”
“Excellent,” Michael/Rance said. He adjusted the page on the table in front of him and picked up the pen. He smiled at the group and reached into his jacket pocket. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I hit forty…” he smiled. Heads around the room nodded and smiled.
“The first thing to go is your eyesight,” Welsh chuckled. “But trust me, there are other things that don’t work so well after a while, either.” Prate and Rafferty laughed at that one. Michael frowned as he checked the rest of his pockets for his reading glasses.
“I’m sorry, I must have left them in my truck,” he said, standing from his seat with a sigh. Williams took a deep breath and tilted his head, frustrated that he was called away from Washington for this rookie display. He pulled out his phone to call his office. Senator Lecter folded her hands and looked at the table impatiently. “I’ll just be a second,” Michael/Rance said, hustling to the door, leaving the quiet table. He shut it behind himself and glanced at his watch, 3:12 pm. He could hear the moan of helicopters in the distance. The sound was getting louder. There was still only one guard at the door, but there were about a dozen milling around the parking lot. Rance glanced at the guard and smiled, “Forgot something in the truck,” he shrugged.
He jogged to the front vehicle and got in the cab. He twisted two wires together and started the truck again, shifting into drive and easing away from the line of Escalades. When he was twenty meters past the warehouse door, he hit the gas, heading east toward the loading docks and the fire road. Rafferty saw the shadow pass by the window and assumed McCoy had arrived. He went to the door to bark at the Sheriff for his tardiness, Rafferty’s puppets were growing restless around the table. He opened the door just in time to see a vehicle disappear behind the loading docks, but there was still no brown and white impala. He looked back at the door guard.
“New guy,” the guard said. “Had to go get something.” Rafferty brought a hand to his head, combing his thick hair back with his fingers.
“What’s going on?” Rafferty thought. “Where’s he going?” He looked back into the room and saw the key players gathered like ducks on a pond—“He set us up,” was the last thing that flashed into Rafferty’s mind before a series of three Blackhawk’s lunged over the tree line and landed in the parking lot, Army Rangers disembarking like bees from a hive. Rafferty instinctively stepped backward into the office and shut the door.
Rance skidded to a stop by the guard shack and abandon the truck, deciding to run the balance of the distance to the heavy gate outside where he had left John Sanchez in the patrol car. He sprinted to the crest of the hill and ran. He heard the familiar whine of helicopters swoop down behind him just above the tree line, three Blackhawk’s. He stopped long enough to look up and see them charge in, loaded to the teeth and full of combat ready Rangers. Three camo-green Hummers with blue patrol lights came barreling up the fire road and roared passed his position leaving a cloud of dust. He rightly assumed several more hit the front gate at the same moment.
Appalachian Malady - 15
The Blackhawk’s touched down, scattered from the front of the mine to the loading docks. Simultaneously, two more Hummers rammed through the front gate, sending the unsuspecting guards diving for cover. One guard recovered and fired at the SUV’s as they crested the hill in front of the mine.
From inside the warehouse, the Investors heard the noise of the Blackhawks and jumped to their feet as Rafferty slammed the door shut behind him, his face was white, it was happening too fast. “It’s a damn set up!” he screamed.
Williams instinctively leaped toward Welsh, the closest person to him and jerked his arm behind his back, pulling his 38 and sticking it in to the small of his back. “Don’t move,” Williams yelled, “You’re under arrest.”
“Hey, let go, what they hell?” Welsh screamed. Rafferty grabbed Senator Lecters arm and started running through the warehouse to the back exit where eight Rangers coming the opposite direction met them.
Rafferty pulled his own weapon and put it against the Senator’s head. “Get out of the way, boys. Move now, or I’ll shoot her, I really will,” he said. The Rangers formed a ¼ circle around Rafferty, their guns trained on both parties.
“Sir,” one of the Rangers said, “We can’t let you passed. If you shoot her, your body will hit the floor before hers does, only it will have a lot more holes in it. I guarantee it... Now put the gun on the floor.”
Reluctantly, Rafferty dropped the gun.
Senator Lecter started in on the Rangers, “Well, I’m glad you got here when you did. I was afraid for my life back there...”
“Sorry, Ma’am, but you are under arrest,” a Ranger told Ms. Lecter and pulled her hands behind her back securing them with a zip tie.
When Tate and Kramer made it into the room in the second wave, four Rangers were in a standoff with A.D. Williams. “Kramer, Thank G
od. I’ve got them all. You won’t believe what I found. C’mon, help me out.”
“Sorry Boss, put the weapon down before the Rangers relieve you of your head,” DIC Kramer said.
“What? There’s been some kind of mistake, I’m on a sting operation, here.”
“Sure you are,” Tate said.
Each of the Investors was rounded up and brought outside where the bodies of several guards littered the gravel parking area. Rangers were everywhere, securing the campus.
As Tate and Kramer led the handcuffed group to awaiting federal SUV’s, Tami Beatty and her friend from the Lexington Herald drove up in a rented Taurus and slammed the car in to park. They jumped out snapping digital images and asking questions. Two rangers stepped in front of them and cut them off. The soldier’s adrenaline was flowing and they nearly snapped the reporter’s arm jerking it behind her back. Tate saw what was happening and quickly intervened.
“They’re with me, soldiers,” he said, smiling at the reporters whom he viewed as somewhat of a nuisance. “You must have some highly placed friends,” Tate said to the reporters.
“Right place, right time,” Tami said.
“Mmhmm,” Tate smiled, “Just leave your cell phones in your pockets, huh?”
The investors were all placed in vehicles and kept under guard while the warehouses and mine were searched. It took ten minutes for the teams to work their way back to the staging room, the warehouse and the hydroponic garden. When Jim Tate stepped into the growing cavern and realized the kind of bust that they were making, he radioed outside and asked for the reporters to be escorted to his location. A Ranger brought them in a golf cart that was setting by the entrance to Alta Loma Distribution warehouse. Tami’s digital camera was nearly hot to the touch after she finished shooting.
Appalachian Malady - 16
Rance jogged past the open gate and the place he’d stashed the car. Sanchez saw him and gingerly began scooting down the hill. Rance met him half way and helped him to the car.
“Man, did you see the Fed’s sweep through here?”
“The big guns, huh? Did you see the Black Hawks?” Rance said and turned right on 289, north toward Henryville.
“Heard ‘em… What the hell? Did you start World War three back there, or what?”
Rance just shook his head. He turned south at 563 and cut across the hills where the Appalachians become the Blue Ridge range. He drove to the airport in Knoxville and parked Buddy’s Impala in the long-term lot. He helped John to a seat outside the lobby of the quiet little county airport and went inside to make sure his rental Cessna was ready for air. In twenty minutes the craft was ready and Sanchez was buckled in the copilot’s seat. In evening air was quiet and the sun was being pulled below the golden western skyline. He walked back to the front of the airport to look for a familiar car. He waited five minutes then sighed and turned to leave.
As the glass door fell shut behind him he heard a car horn. He turned to see an Acura SUV being driven by the prettiest girl he’d seen all day. He took a deep breath and smiled. He followed her car as she parked. She hopped out and ran around to meet him, he had the clammy odor of dried sweat and his clothes were stained and tattered. But he was still what she had been dreaming about for the past week. She hugged him and he lifted her off her feet.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
“I can’t believe I did it,” she said.
“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” Michael said, as he carried her bags to the plane.
“Dr. Sophia Garza, this is my good friend John Sanchez,” Rance said. John managed a smile. Johns riding with us, he got banged up a little.
“A little?” John said. “Compared to what?”
“I can take a look at you,” Sophia said, “I’m a doctor.”
“Awesome,” John sighed.
“She’s a Veterinarian, John, just what you need!” Rance said. They all got a kick out of that as Rance taxied to the end of the runway.
Appalachian Malady - 17
Rance and Sophia woke late after a long night of travel, making sure John Sanchez was taken care of at the hospital back in Georgetown, Rance booked a bed and breakfast on the water at Virginia Beach where they drove in his f-150, arriving in the middle of the night. They stirred awake to the sound of waves breaking on the shoreline. It was a cloudy, overcast, perfect morning. Sophia turned on the television while Michael/Rance was in the shower. When he came out, clad in his jeans with no shirt or shoes, she was sitting on the edge of the bed in shock.
“Sophia? What is it?” he asked.
The television showed still images of James Rafferty, FBI Assistant Director Ken Williams, Indiana Senator Phyllis Lecter, William Prate and John Welsh, being taken into custody and photo’s of the giant underground marijuana forest that had been seized. She was speechless. The News anchor provided a context to the still photography, “At about 3:15 pm yesterday, the DEA swept through the little mountain community of Rose Park, Kentucky and made the single largest marijuana bust in the history of the United States... In what is being called the Appalachian Malady, DEA officials say that a literal forest of the crop was being grown in hydroponic raised beds deep within the recesses of the abandoned Cedar Ridge Coal Mine north of Rose Park. DEA spokesman, Jim Tate told CNN that the combination of finding the drugs and, finding all the principle players in the cartel in the same place, was more than they could have hoped for.”
Finally, Sophia gathered her composure enough to ask, “Michael, weren’t you supposed to be... there?”
He shrugged, “Doesn’t look like the kind of people I would have wanted to be in business with anyway, how about you?” he smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the top of the head. He sat down beside her as breaking news came on the screen. “This just in, General George Madden, long time consultant to the joint chiefs, was taken in to custody today and charged with accessory to murder in the death of Senator Lewis Hagin, Senator from the Bluegrass State of Kentucky. Also arrested in connection with the murder were Assistant Director of the FBI, Ken Williams and Senator Phyllis Lecter of Indiana shown here being taken in to custody by the investigator in charge of the Hagin investigation, Ron Kramer. Williams and Lecter have also been indicted on additional counts in relation to the Appalachian Malady drug seizure.”
That one stopped Rance cold. He immediately found his cell phone and dialed Jim Tate.
“Tate.”
“Buddy, what gives?”
“Big night. Thanks to you.”
“What’s with Madden?”
“He closed an account two days ago at the bank you pointed us to. One million dollars.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No. But Williams is talking like a parrot. According to him he bought a name from Madden. He’s trying to pin the tail on anyone but himself... You okay?”
“Did he give a name? I need to talk to Madden.”
“It’s going to take a while to sort through it all, Ran. Take a few days off. Give me a call when you get back in town, huh?”
“Okay. Hey, good work yesterday. And kudos’ to Kramer,” Rance said.
“Yeah, I think he’s finally headed up the ladder. This was as big as it gets.”
“He’s the kind of guy you need at that level.”
“Agreed. See you later, then?”
“Okay, see you on the court in a week or so.” Rance clicked the phone shut and tossed it on the table.
“Michael, is everything all right?” Sophia said.
Michael/Rance smiled and sat on the edge of the bed by the beautiful woman that he had fallen for over the course of the past two weeks. He pulled her backwards on the bed with him and brought her head to rest on his bare chest where he could smell her hair and wrap his arms around her strong brown shoulders.
“Dr. Garza,” he said, staring up at the ceiling wondering where to begin, “We need to talk.”
The End
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The Appalach
ian Malady climaxed and eased to a close underneath Andy’s fingertips. He finished. It was the fastest that he had ever cranked out a first draft. For some reason the distractions of life had failed to bump the story off course, they had, instead, enhanced it. He saved the work and sat in silence. He was beyond emotion. He was too drained to be exhausted. He left everything in the story. After splashing some water on his face and staring out the front window, aimlessly for several minutes, he composed himself enough to email the draft to his agent.
Dear Will,
Here it is, the Applalachian Malady first draft. I hope you like it. It’s rough, but I think there’s something here. Let me know what you think. I appreciate your kindness through the process.
Sincerely,
Andy
Attachment: appalachainmalady.pdf