“You know Dad,” she started to say before switching over to impersonate her father. “Anything that isn’t organic isn’t worth the time.”
The two chuckled at the impression of Josh before Layla continued, “Seriously, Dad harvests most, if not all, of them. When he wants to try something new he uses a supplier in Indiana somewhere.”
Samantha smiled at that pronouncement and bent down to inspect one of the buckets and the roots dangling in the bucket.
“When did you guys ever learn or conceive this?”
“We were about eleven or twelve, I think. We were still being home schooled so it would have to have been about ten years ago,” she provided. “A produce firm approached Dad and we spent several weekends visiting other growers and attending workshops. The three of us totally immersed ourselves in the world of hydroponics. Katherine and I thought it was really cool, so he agreed.”
“What was that like? Being home schooled,” Samantha asked in as non-threatening a way as possible.
To Layla’s credit, she didn’t dwell on the reasons for the alternative learning method. She simply answered Samantha by saying, “It was pretty fun hanging out with Dad and Uncle Dallas all the time. We got to do and see things and go places most of the kids our age will never experience in their lifetime. He was a task master though.”
Keep it light. She’s finally talking to me.
“That’s not hard to imagine. So what did you find that you excelled in?” Samantha asked.
“Oh, that’s easy. I took to the plants pretty quickly. Katherine hated it. She never could grasp water transportation, xylem and phloem, and cell respiration. Dad would stay up late and study biology and chemistry just to keep ahead of me. He didn’t think I knew, so don’t tell him. One subject he never needed to brush up on was history. He was really enthusiastic about that one.”
“How so?”
“Well, before he got rid of the TV, the only thing he seemed to ever watch were historical documentaries. He used to tell us that everything about the future could be gleaned from our past. I remember this one time, we were in ninth or tenth grade, definitely high school age. We came home with our social studies books and they had replaced ‘BC’ with “BCE’ and Dad went berserk.”
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“It stands for ‘Before Common Era’ and he was having none of it. He threw the book and us in the truck and drove us back to the school. Dad tracked down the Principal and the history teacher,” she explained. Then she started her impression of her father again. “How can you remove Christ from time? What kind of left wing PC anti-Christian BS is this!”
Samantha started laughing again. “What happened then?”
“Dad told them he would instruct us to write only BC and if we lost points he’d be back to discuss it further,” Layla replied.
Samantha just started shaking her head as she remembered the intemperance he had exhibited when she authorized the deposit of an innocuous life insurance check. “For some reason, I don’t find that hard to imagine at all. And did they? Lower your grade for writing BC, I mean.”
“Never. I hadn’t seen him that mad except for…” Layla answered and then the thought trailed off.
Samantha looked over at her because she had stopped talking. Time to push. “Since the warehouse?”
“Yeah… yeah,” she said snapping herself back to reality.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened in there?” Samantha pried gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“There’s not much to say really. Katherine and I have been able to piece together some resemblance of a timeframe from our ‘fractured memories’, as the doctor called them. Bits and pieces, blurs mostly. Three men and maybe a woman, someone had long hair. Could have been a guy, we don’t know. The shrink said that we’d probably never get it all back because of the drugs they injected us with. I remember hearing a door crashing open. Dad says that was him. Then there was a bunch of screaming and yelling... and cussing, there was a lot of cussing. I’d never heard Dad talk like that. When the paramedics showed up, I just remember seeing the floor covered in blood.”
She paused at the memory before she continued. “I couldn’t believe how much there was, it was everywhere. I’ll never forget the image of those two men hanging from the rafters.”
* * *
Jesus quickly squawked the handset and started his count. Josh replied before he got to ‘ten’. Had he made it to ‘thirty’, he would have keyed the device again.
“This is Josh,” he replied casually.
“Patrón, we have an unknown emerging from the northern hedgerow. Hold one,” the young man replied as he had been taught and continued his over watch.
Josh wasn’t going to wait for further information. He turned to Abelardo and said, “Take another walkie and go get your father and your 308’s. Send your mother down here to sit with Katherine. Approach from the north and then sweep west. Go!”
Jesus remained vigilant and observed the scene unfold through the scope of his rifle. Shock and disbelief permeated his body as he witnessed the man enter the greenhouse two doors down from the women. He immediately picked up his device and squawked it. Josh answered before he got to ‘one’ in his count.
“Sit rep,” he demanded.
“The man just timed his entry into the lettuce hut so Layla wouldn’t hear the fans kick on. He’s hiding behind the solution tank.”
“Description?” he was asked quickly.
“Graying hair, almost bald, and about thirty pounds overweight,” came the reply.
That matched the image of the man he had met in the hangar. Toombs.
“Armed?” Josh inquired.
Jesus hesitated. He had never witnessed Josh’s fury, but the stories he had heard made him fearful of answering.
“Is... he... armed?” his boss said again in clear voice.
Meekly, the young man replied, “Si.”
“Sit tight. Continue to observe. Call in any movement. Four friendlies are inbound, two each from the north and west.”
The conglomerates henchman didn’t realize it, but he was about to be boxed in.
“Roger,” came the accented reply.
Josh collected Evan at the house where he had been playing board games with Katherine. The pair utilized the electric golf cart to silently approach on the snow laden sand driveway from the southwest. Before climbing into the golf cart, Josh had hastily reached for the Mossberg 12-guage shotgun. He emptied the rock salt shells used to scare off nuisance wildlife and grabbed a box of rifled sabot slugs from the gun cabinet. He already had his sidearm, but figured the extra firepower couldn’t hurt.
Josh gave one final command before assuming radio silence.
“If he provides a clear line of sight, turn his head into a canoe!”
* * *
“My word!” Samantha exclaimed to the description of the bloodbath Layla provided. “I had no idea. Is that why he’s so...”
“Paranoid?” Layla offered.
“Yeah!” Sam replied still stunned by the account.
“The rape kit identified three specimens. Only two were in the warehouse. Dad’s scared to death that the third guy might think we can identify him. It’s been so long though that he was starting to relax. When we turned twenty one, he took us to get our CCL licenses and he toned it way down. Then you showed up and amped up his paranoia again.”
“I’m so sorry, Layla. I had no idea.”
The young woman didn’t respond.
Change the subject. Keep it going.
“So what did Katherine take an interest in? What’s she studying at school?” she asked leading Layla away from the memory.
Layla blinked at her as if she were clearing the recollection of a bad dream and said, “Veterinary Medicine. I took to plants, but she excelled with animals. She had no problems with that whole life cycle. The entire butchering process makes me sick.”
“So I guess I’ll be asking h
er about the smokehouses then?” Samantha playfully asked.
“You mean the death houses,” replied Layla as she held her hand up to her mouth and imitated gagging and vomiting sounds. The mere thought of discussing any part of the endeavor made her queasy. Samantha laughed at the childish gesture.
Once they had worked their way into the ‘lettuce hut,’ as Layla had nicknamed it, Samantha said, “You want to know an interesting little fact about your greenhouses?”
“Um, okay,” she replied hesitantly.
“Both the buckets and the trays were designed and engineered by Hyloset. You can tell by the raised letters right here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I’m serious,” Samantha replied reaching out and grabbing Layla’s hand. “Feel under here,” she said as she pressed Layla’s finger tips against the bottom.
“Dad’s gonna be maaaad,” Layla said playfully.
“Why would he be mad?” Samantha asked surprised.
“He hates everything about the GMOs, you know that.”
“Well, he’s done a pretty good job of hiding this fact from me. You all know I’m the President of the company.”
“True, but you had an ace in your sleeve. You were bringing down the other three. I think Dad made an exception,” Layla said as she smiled.
“Then he’s going to be positively livid when he discovers that all of his heirloom seeds were harvested, packaged, and sold by a subsidiary of Hyloset.”
Layla quickly looked over at Samantha with a shocked look on her face. “How do you know that,” Layla asked.
“When you said he buys his seeds from somewhere in Indiana, I knew. We own about eighty percent of the market share for the heirloom seed business. We are the only name in that state.”
“How is that possible? Hyloset is a GMO.”
“We were. My father tested everyone’s seeds and turned the results over to someone at the FDA. He never heard back though. Every time he followed up, he was stonewalled.”
“Holy crap! What did he do?” she replied, clearly stunned by the revelation.
“When he kept getting the runaround, he figured something was up. As a result, he bought as many heirloom seeds as he could and started switching them out. None of the other GMOs knew anything about what he had done. He started Hyloset’s hydroponic and heirloom divisions as a cover. The country was, and is, being lied to. We got out of the GMO seed manufacturing industry over five years ago. The other company heads think he just started another line of business when in actuality, all of the seeds we marketed and sold were heirloom, regardless of the packaging.”
“How very interesting,” Mr. Toombs said as he walked out from behind the large solution tank. A pistol was firmly gripped in his hand.
* * *
Josh was so angry at himself for allowing them to go without him. Somehow he had managed to fool himself into a false sense of security. He had let his guard down around Samantha and disobeyed the first tenet of combat, vigilance. All he thought about as he drove toward the greenhouses was tactics, coordination of forces, and communication.
The Martinez family had routinely taken part in evacuation and defensive drills with Josh, Evan, and the girls. Even though the staff he employed had the credentials for this scenario, they had all left for the day. Regardless, he had no concerns regarding the family’s effectiveness in the field. It was Samantha he was worried about. She was the wildcard. She didn’t know the calls, the hand signals, or the terminology. She’s served. She could probably figure it out on the fly.
Josh wasn’t willing to take that chance.
Somebody’s gonna die, he furiously told himself as he brought the golf cart to a stop behind a stand of cedars.
During the drive, Evan had loaded the 12-guage and stuffed some extra rounds in his coat pocket. Josh instructed him to work his way up the tree line until he had a clear line of sight from the west. Josh would be approaching from the southwest in a frontal assault directly at the doors. By organizing his pieces in an “L” shaped ambush, Josh had effectively placed Toombs in an inescapable, unforgiving kill zone.
* * *
“Samantha, if you please,” Mr. Toombs said as he gestured for her to remove the pistol from its holster. “Two fingers only,” he cautioned her.
“What do you want, Toombs?” she sneered as she stepped in front of Layla and began removing the weapon. As she bent over to place the gun on the compact gravel floor, Layla caught sight of the two-way radio tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. As Samantha stood, Layla deftly removed it, depressed the transmit button, and kept the device concealed by palming it in her hand.
Jesus saw the gesture and radioed her father. Josh immediately gave the order for everyone to switch their devices to channel six, the standard farm frequency. With the four men nearly in position, they all began to hear the conversation over their walkies and came to an immediate halt.
They heard Mr. Toombs say, “Well, I wanted to kill you from the start, Samantha, but Edward wouldn’t allow it. He foolishly believed that you’d fall in line, like your father. Peter was such an idealist. He sent that report to the Hill and it was promptly turned over to the consortium. They decided to use it as leverage instead. That didn’t stop them from authorizing his death to protect their multibillion dollar piggy bank though.”
“What?” Samantha exclaimed.
“Oh, you poor girl. You didn’t know?” he said mockingly.
“Know what? He died of myeloma,” she responded.
Toombs chuckled at the notion and replied, “You keep telling yourself that, Samantha. Now, where’s your benefactor? Where’s Mr. Simmons?”
“This is between you and me. You leave him out of it,” she growled.
“Oh, I think not. And who’s your little friend? You wouldn’t be Layla by any chance would you? I must say, I have to commend you and your sister young lady. You two did a remarkable job back in the alley, zero hesitation. You just read the situation and reacted, very nicely done. It’s a shame you’re headed to a shallow grave. It appears that we have a couple openings on my staff.”
Josh narrowed his eyes and began storming toward the door.
When he heard Samantha answer, “You’re mistaken. She’s the night manager here from the produce company. She was giving me a tour, that’s all,” he began to slow his foolish assault.
A shot rang out and Josh stopped completely.
He was relieved to hear Toombs say, “Lie to me again, and the next one’s in your head, not the door.”
Pausing to let the threat sink in, he waited before saying, “That was quite the provocative statement you made earlier. Hyloset hasn’t sold a GMO seed in over five years? I’m sure Edward and the others would love to have a little chat with you about that revelation.”
“Fine. Take me to them. Leave her and her father out of it,” Samantha quickly blurted out.
“Oh, Samantha. You silly girl,” Mr. Toombs replied in a condescending tone. “You know how that old boys club feels about witnesses. But it wouldn’t do us any good to deposit a rotting corpse in here with all this yummy produce,” he said as he gestured toward the growing plant life. “We are all gonna exit this building together and walk down the road to my car. Savvy?”
Samantha nodded to acknowledge her understanding.
The three entered the vestibule and the fans kicked on as normal. As they exited through the second set of doors, Samantha asked, “How did we not hear you enter the greenhouse?”
“Trade secrets,” came the reply.
Samantha and Layla were walking in front of Mr. Toombs as he kept his pistol trained on them. He was effectively forcing them to march when he said, “You know, Layla, your father has quite the reputation. Seems his demons followed him in to his civilian life though. That is, if the media got the facts right.”
Samantha spun around to face Toombs and said, “Shut your mouth, Toombs! I mean it! Not another word. She’s an innocent girl.”
“Ca
reful, Samantha,” Toombs responded and flashed his handgun at her.
Layla abruptly stopped walking when she heard the faintly whistled call to ‘get down’ emanating from somewhere in front of her. When it registered that they were not alone and about to die, she was filled with a renewed confidence. Layla knew what had to happen, but needed Samantha’s compliance. The only thing she could think to do, short of tackling her, was to feign an injury and somehow bring Samantha down with her. Toombs’ line of conversation provided her with the opportunity to turn and face him. That’s exactly what she did.
Slowly reaching out, Layla grabbed Samantha’s hand. She mistook the gesture as a sign of comfort. Layla locked their hands together, and then preceded to attempt to alert Samantha to the others presence. She began to intermittently increasing and decreasing the pressure of her grip. She then plastered a look on her face that told Toombs she wanted more.
“See, the young lady is intrigued. She wants to hear it,” and smiled a condescending smile at Samantha.
“Very well, Layla,” Toombs began. “Did you know that, when your father got a hold of those two miscreants that took you and your sister, oh, how shall I put it... it wasn’t the first time he had ‘fouled’ a man.”
“I know about Bosnia,” she responded flatly, stealing his thunder. “This guy’s an idiot, come on Samantha,” she said as she released her grip and put her arm around Samantha’s shoulder to turn her away from Toombs.
As the two walked away and resumed their death march, Layla maintained the shoulder hold and quietly whispered, “We’re not alone. I’m gonna flip you into the ditch.”
Clearly shocked by her response, all Toombs could think to say was, “You do?” He began walking after them as he realized they couldn’t be baited. They weren’t going to stop and turn around. “I’m speechless. Why would he burden a child with this knowledge?”
It was then that Layla thrust her hip in front of Samantha, establishing the fulcrum. At the same time, she swept the arm that was on Samantha’s shoulder forward, providing the lever. Josh, and his band of ‘independent contractors’, had taught them basic takedowns and self-defense throws. He wanted them to be able to fight back if the situation ever called for it. The instruction continued throughout their teens.
When Rome Stumbles Page 17