"I called my Uncle Murdoch in the New York office," Rory explained. "He and Avis, our computer wizard, are sifting through construction permits for factories in Mississippi going back ten years. They are cross-referencing each one with cotton farms to see what pops up."
"Would they be able to figure out if any of them are textile factories? Or clothing or shoe factories?" Chet asked in the passenger seat. "If that's what Ponder said they were making, then...."
"I would imagine so," Rory said in reply. "But not all the applications are computerized yet."
Chet shook his head in frustration, "It could be like looking for that old needle in a haystack."
"I still can't believe someone in America would kidnap children to work in a factory!" Donna-Lou exclaimed. "It doesn't make any sense."
Rory's cell phone rang. He hit the blue tooth button on the steering wheel, "Hello."
"Rory? It's Avis."
"Morning. You're on speaker-phone. What have you got for us?"
"Well, fortunately for us...and unfortunately for America...there weren't a lot of new factories being built in the last ten years in Mississippi," Avis answered. "And cross-referencing those with cotton still left twelve possibilities scattered across the state. But a little more research narrowed it down to Leflore County in the Mississippi Delta region, north of Jackson. Leflore County is one of the largest cotton producing areas in the country. I made a call to the chamber of commerce in Greenwood, which is the county seat, and they were quite helpful. They have a large, new factory that went up in the area three years ago. It added a lot of revenue to the tax base for the county, but it hasn't resulted in many jobs for the locals. The company says that's because they are highly automated. But the Chamber of Commerce is still very, very proud of this company."
"Why is that?" Rory asked.
"The factory has become one of the leading suppliers of cotton clothing to the top outlet stores in America. They're beating foreign countries in both quality and price," Avis reported.
Chet whistled.
"I hope that whistle was for me," Avis said with a smile in her voice.
"It couldn't be for anyone else," Chet said.
Donna-Lou Haney reached forward and hit Chet on the shoulder with the back of her hand.
Chet Calhoun clutched his shoulder in surprise and looked back at the Donna-Lou and mouthed Ow!
Donna-Lou crossed her arms and glared at him.
Avis chuckled, "I heard that smack. There must be a woman in the car."
Rory ignored the banter. "Do you have a name and address for the company for me?"
"Do you really have to ask?" Avis said.
Rory smiled and nodded, "Already on the way to my phone."
"You are correct, sir. The company name is Mississippi Castle," Avis said.
Chet looked up in surprise, "Did you say Mississippi Castle? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Uncle Murdoch had a lawyer pull the incorporation papers," Avis answered. "The official name is Mississippi Castle Incorporated."
"Why? Is the name important Chet?" Rory asked.
Chet held his hands out, "The Knights of the Golden Circle had local branches or lodges that they termed castles. That was the exact term they used. Castles. It can't be a coincidence."
Rory gave that some thought. "Avis, were you able to find a name for the main individual behind the company? Or was it all hidden behind shell companies and hidden corporations?"
"It was buried and that did take a bit more work. Uncle Murdoch had to call in a couple of favors," she answered.
They could hear the shuffling of papers.
"Here it is. The name is Tucker Watley Calhoun–"
Chet said as he sat up straighter in his seat, "Calhoun? The last name is Calhoun? Really?"
"Yes. The records show Tucker Watley Calhoun is 93 years old," Avis said. "With the help of those favors, we did some checking and the inquiries led us to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. The ATF is fully aware of Mr. Calhoun. They said he's the shadowy power behind a number of militant extremist groups in Mississippi, Alabama and South Carolina, all opposed to the federal government. The agent in charge of the case told us Calhoun is called 'Old Tuck' by his closest friends."
"Do you know this Calhoun, Chet?" Donna-Lou asked from the backseat.
Chet's brow furrowed and he was defensive as he glanced back towards her, "No. Why would I?"
"Just same last name is all," she answered quietly.
Chet looked sheepish, "You're right, sorry. No, I don't know him. Just surprised by the last name is all."
"Anything else to add, Avis?" Rory asked.
"No that's everything. You have the address of where your backup will meet you," Avis added.
"Okay, thanks," Rory said as he hit the disconnect button to end the call.
"Backup? We have backup?" Chet asked.
Rory nodded, "You'll see."
THEY REACHED A SIDE road west of Greenwood, Mississippi two hours before sundown. There were a number of vehicles in a flat field on the right. Rory turned right onto a short dirt road over a culvert, driving fifty feet over the short grass before parking.
Several men, dressed in dark-blue pants, shirts, and jackets, wearing bullet-proof vests and cradling rifles in their right arm, stepped out from behind a large van. They eyed the black Jaguar cautiously.
"Who's that?" Donna-Lou asked as she sat forward in the back seat.
"Should be the ATF," Rory answered. "They were interested in joining us once that Calhoun's name popped up."
"Do they have Corry?" Donna-Lou asked as she reached for the door handle on Rory's side of the car.
"No," Rory said as he opened his own door.
"Why not!" she exclaimed as she slammed her door shut. "Shouldn't they be doing something? Why are they just standing around? Is Corry close by–?"
Rory closed his door, turned and put his hands on her shoulders, "Be patient–"
"Don't tell me to be patient! I want my son now." She struggled to go around Rory.
Rory held her gently but firm, "We have to do this right."
Chet came up from behind the Jaguar and put his hand on Donna-Lou's elbow, "He's right. Don't worry, we'll get him back."
Donna-Lou whirled on Chet, anger in her eyes.
"Just be patient, okay?" Chet said gently.
Taking a deep breath, Donna-Lou gave Chet a nod, "Okay. But you better be right." She then turned back around, the look of anger still in her eyes.
Chet exchanged a glance of worry with Rory as he stepped up beside Donna-Lou.
Rory gave him a nod and then looked at Donna-Lou, "Let's go talk with them and see what they have to say. All right?" He turned and the three of them began walking towards the men.
Several other men came around the van, all of them armed. One of them looked back and said something to someone. A few moments later, the men parted to allow someone through.
A 6'-2" woman with a shapely figure and dressed in black leather jacket and pants strode cat-like around the van. She had green, sparkling eyes filled with confidence and her fiery red hair flowed off her shoulders as she walked across the short grass towards them.
Chet's jaw dropped and then he whispered, "Who is that!"
Donna-Lou slapped his left shoulder hard with the back of her right hand.
Chet held his shoulder, looked at Donna-Lou and mouthed Ow!
Donna-Lou glared at him, then looked back at the woman, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Ciamar a tha thu?" the tall woman said as she opened her arms and embraced Rory.
"Tha gu math, tapadh leibh," Rory said in return, hugging the red-haired beauty tightly. Seconds later, he turned to Chet and Donna-Lou. "Skye, this is Donna-Lou Haney. Her son Corry is one of the missing children. Donna-Lou, this is my sister, Skye Steele."
Skye Steele was three years younger than Rory and had started working as a private investigator in the family business while her brother was still se
rving in the Canadian military. She was an expert in several martial arts disciplines, including Wing Chun, a form of Kung Fu, specializing in close-range combat and practiced by proponents of the art like Bruce Lee, as well as more esoteric forms like Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, a self-defense system that focuses on grappling and especially ground fighting. But despite Skye's core of steel, it was wrapped in a blanket of concern and she shook Donna-Lou's hand warmly, "I can't imagine what you're going through, Donna-Lou. We're going to do everything we can to get your son back."
"Thank you," Donna-Lou said quietly as she looked up into Skye's determined green eyes.
"And this is Chet Calhoun," Rory said.
Skye stepped over and shook Chet's hand, "Thank you for helping my brother, Chet. I appreciate it."
Chet looked a little tongue-tied, "Well...I really haven't done anything...it's been Rory who...."
"No. It takes people like you who are willing to stand up for what is right. Despite the odds."
Chet actually blushed at the praise. And then the redness went up a notch as Skye stepped forward and embraced him warmly.
Donna-Lou lifted an eyebrow as she looked from Chet to Skye Steele.
As Skye stepped back, Chet noticed Donna-Lou looking at him. What? he mouthed.
Skye turned and motioned to one of the men at the van. As he strode forward, she introduced him, "This is Special Agent Ryan Bowman of the ATF."
Bowman was in his 50s, built like a bodybuilder and walked with a military bearing. But the white, slicked-back hair and the good looks made him look more like an older runway model.
"This is my brother, Rory," Skye said.
Bowman held out a hand to Rory, "Very nice to meet. I've known Murdock MacLeod for years and he's told me all about you and your sister."
"Don't believe everything he tells you," Rory teased.
"I wait until we're at the bottom of the second bottle of scotch before I ask him the serious questions," Bowman replied with the hint of a smile on his lips.
Rory smiled in return and nodded.
Bowman turned serious. He pointed off to a tree line to his left, "The cotton farm and the factory you folks are looking for is just beyond those trees–"
"Then why haven't you gone in," Donna-Lou asked as she jumped forward. "We need to get my son out!"
"I understand. But if we go in full force, these are men who will fight," Bowman stated calmly in return. "We don't want your son or any of the other youngsters caught in a firefight. And I'm positive they have automatic weapons. It wouldn't be pretty."
Donna-Lou turned white when she realized what could happen before the day was over.
"Besides, I don't have a warrant," he said to Rory. "And from what I was told about these people, I didn't want to take a chance in asking a local judge to give me one and possibly have it leaked to anyone inside that compound."
Rory nodded in agreement.
Skye's green eyes had a sparkle to them as she said, "But a couple of citizens wandering around in there, coming across something, could always phone and report it to the ATF. Right?"
"I never suggested that," Bowman said seriously. "But it sounds like a workable plan," he added with a wink.
"Aaaand...he just happens to have unmarked vests and weapons for us," Skye said to Rory.
Rory nodded to Skye, "Okay. You and I can penetrate the perimeter to the cotton farm and–"
"I'm going with you," Donna-Lou interjected as she stepped up to Rory.
Rory shook his head, "No, you can't. It's too dangerous–"
"You'll have to tie me up to keep me from going," Donna-Lou stated emphatically.
Skye shrugged as she looked at Rory. "And she would probably gnaw through the ropes even if you did."
Chet stepped up beside Donna-Lou, "I'm going too. And I can watch out for her."
"I don't need you to watch out for me," Donna-Lou stated firmly.
"I was just trying to help," Chet said quietly.
Rory looked at them for a moment and then said, "I hope I don't live to regret this but I guess we're the four musketeers. Okay, let's get ready."
Skye put her hand on Donna-Lou's shoulder as she walked with her behind Bowman, heading to the ATF vehicles to get the weapons.
Rory followed behind them.
Check hitched up his pants as he walked behind the group, "I thought there was only three of them musketeers?"
Chapter 19
THE FOUR NOW STOOD on the other side of the tree line, each of them dressed in bulletproof vests, wearing headsets for communications and carrying a Heckler & Koch UMP submachine gun over their shoulder. That included Donna–Lou, who insisted she had shot rifles when she was a youngster and could handle herself. They were looking across a stretch of scrub grass at the enormous compound dead ahead. A ten-foot-high fence surrounded an immense cotton field and the smell of rich earth and green plants wrestled with the slight scent of a pesticide. In the far distance, in the middle of the field, they could see an immense building.
Chet looked along the fence line and hitched up his pants. "So how exactly do we get inside there?"
Rory shook his head as he considered the fence and the fields beyond, "Good question. I'm sure they'll be protecting the front entrance quite heavily, so that's out."
Donna-Lou shifted her bulletproof vest, muttering to herself, "Stupid thing."
Skye stepped over and adjusted one of the straps, "There you go."
"Thank you," Donna-Lou said. She gestured to the fence, "Why don't we just climb over that thing and get in there? I'm not interested in just standing here and talking. I want to get my son."
"I know you do," Rory said. He pointed up at some small black boxes on the top of the upright steel poles of the fence. "See those boxes up there? And those wires just running along the top the fence? If we touch that fence, we'll probably set off an alarm."
"So what do we do?" Donna-Lou said in frustration. "We can't just stand here all day–"
"Why don't we just borrow that?" Skye said as she pointed in the direction of the cotton field on the other side of the fence. A green machine, seventeen feet high, nineteen feet wide, and thirty-one feet long, sat one hundred yards into the field off to the left. It consisted of a large bubble in the front for driving and a large, square metal storage container behind that. A label on this side of the contraption designated it as a Case IH MODULE EXPRESS 625 cotton picker.
Chet looked at the machine and scratched his head, "But...it's on the other side. How do we do that?"
Rory smiled, wondering where his sister was going with this as well.
"Follow me," Skye said and she set off at a jog. The others moved quickly to catch up. In a few minutes, Skye reached a large tree, just on this side of the fence line. She slipped her submachine gun off her shoulder, turned and tossed to Rory. Then she turned back to the tree and began climbing.
"What in the world is she doing?" Donna-Lou asked as she watched Skye climb. Fifteen feet off the ground, she reached a large limb that extended towards the fence. She stood on it, her back against the tree.
Rory knew what she was thinking, "Are you sure you can make it?" he yelled up to Skye.
"What's she doing?" Chet asked.
Skye stepped out, flexing her knees and bouncing her weight to test the limb. She called down, "If I get enough forward momentum, I should be able to just roll safely on the other side."
"I would imagine she's going to run along that limb and leap over the fence," said Rory simply as he slung Skye's submachine gun over his other shoulder.
"But the limb is five or six feet short of the fence," Chet protested.
Rory shrugged.
Donna-Lou swallowed and looked at Rory, "You don't expect me to...to...?"
"Hopefully, you won't have to," Rory assured. "But you will have to do some jumping if she makes it."
Raising her eyebrows, Donna-Lou said, "If?" She shook her head and looked back up at Skye.
Skye placed her back agai
nst the tree again, took several deep breaths and then took off running along the limb. The limb bent downwards as she reached the end but she continued on, soaring like a broad jumper, feet running in the air, towards the fence. Her foot caught the top of the fence and she tumbled in the air. She came down hard on the other side of the fence and rolled several times over several rows of cotton plants.
Rory ran to the fence, stopping at the last minute. "Skye! Skye–" he yelled.
Skye Steele staggered to her feet, grimacing and holding a hip, "Next time, it's your turn, big brother."
Feeling the relief course through his body, Rory nodded, "No problem, little sister. But you better hurry. I don't think you triggered an alarm, but if someone comes along...."
"Ever the taskmaster," Skye grumbled as she turned and ran, her red hair flowing behind her. She stumbled a couple of times as she hopped over each row of plants, but it wasn't long before she was climbing into the large bubble of the 625 cotton picker's cab. It only took her a few seconds and the 365 hp engine started with a deep growl. Turning the huge machine right, Skye drove across the rows of plants, heading for the fence. Within 5 minutes, Skye parked the picker as close as possible to the fence and just across from the tree limb. She climbed out of the bubble and walked halfway to the back of the picker. From there, Skye climbed the seventeen feet to the top of the square metal container. "Who's next?" she yelled from the flat top.
Donna-Lou's voice was a fear-filled whisper, "You have got to be kidding me?"
"I don't blame you," Rory said, "You can wait here –" He never finished the sentence.
Donna-Lou quickly handed her UMP machine gun to Chet and began climbing the tree. Reaching the limb, she balanced herself with her back against the tree
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