by Jay Klages
“I’ve felt okay up to just a few days ago. On Monday, I felt bad.”
“I remember—during the meeting with Messia. I thought you just had a headache. I didn’t think twice about it. You seem to be handling this very well.”
Owens smiled. “I can’t explain why I feel calm. I feel happy. Happy about our mission. Happy about the many charitable contributions AgriteX has made since its inception.”
Pierce had always thought the charitable work was a distraction, and it was hardly a focus at the moment. Maybe it was the pot talking.
“Anyway,” Owens said, “about the second thing. I’ve kept contact with a handful of key intelligence operatives and I’ve always restricted their access to only me. They’re all former Guardians. Some of the earliest, like you.”
Pierce cleared his throat. “I suspected you had your own personal network. That never bothered me.”
“But now it’s also time I transition these contacts to you,” Owens said, “including our routines and means of communicating. One of my key operatives needs to meet tomorrow evening to provide critical information, so that’ll be your first priority. Then I’ll communicate with each of the others. I’ll tell them to expect you in my place from here on out. You already know how to reassemble all of the Guardians for Phase Two planning and execution as part of the transition plan.”
Pierce nodded.
“Effective Monday, July eight,” Owens continued, “C-E-C becomes part of its new holding company. All finances have been transferred except for a few weeks of cash on hand, and the corporate board that’s only existed on paper has been dissolved. I’ll give you more information on the various accounts over the next few days.”
“So you’re saying our transition has already begun,” Pierce said.
“Yes. In my life I’ve been a start-up specialist, and people best suited for start-ups are often not best for the long-term. I take comfort in knowing you’ll continue our mission with even greater skill and execution. You’re a rare talent, and we wouldn’t have come this far without you.”
Pierce sighed and took a long pause before he spoke.
“If I can continue with half the leadership and energy you’ve given us, I’ve no doubt the Chapter will only continue to strengthen and expand.”
Marshall got up and came around the desk to sit down next to him.
“Thank you for your steadfast service. You’ll continue what I started here with much success. I’m sure of it.”
Pierce now had a faraway but resolute look in his eyes.
“After the attack, people will think that it’s the end. But I’ll make sure we carry on this war to a new dimension. America will turn to us when we make everyone afraid.”
Owens nodded. “Mamook kwass.”
CHAPTER 35
Thursday, June 27
11:08 a.m. (PDT)
Near Wilsonville, Oregon
Four SUVs arrived within minutes of one another at the single-level green-sided house located twenty miles south of Portland and three miles west of I-5. The group surrendered their phones to David Cisneros and gathered inside the large detached garage. Cisneros made sure all of the phones were powered off.
A laminated topographical map lay on five square feet of the garage’s concrete floor. Ten men, eight of them Mexican and two white, sat around the map in lawn chairs. While waiting for the start of the meeting, a few who had worked with one another on past jobs caught up on personal news. Cisneros returned with a case of water and tossed bottles around to everyone. Two oscillating fans tried to circulate the air, but the garage remained warm and stuffy and smelled like paint.
Juan Messia joined the group a few minutes later. He remained standing and pulled out some notes while he started the discussion in Spanish.
“Okay, friends,” Messia said. “Leadership has called on us to strike a current supplier who isn’t meeting their end of an agreement. The target is AgriteX, a company located out in the forest of the Coast Range. It’s about twenty miles straight-line distance southeast of Cannon Beach. AgriteX has a large security team and I know their company’s president, Marshall Owens. He’s former Army Special Forces. I expect his force to be well trained and armed, but I’m confident our plan will offset any advantages they might have. We have solid information on their patrol routes and activities, and we know they have holes in their security.”
The group paid even closer attention after Messia touched on the degree of difficulty.
“The primary mission,” Messia said, “is to take possession of a large load of marijuana seed that’s rightfully ours. It’s been paid for already, but our leadership no longer believes that AgriteX will deliver it. So we have to be prepared to pick up a possible thirty thousand pounds of this seed. That means we’ll need thirty trucks and maybe a couple extras.”
Messia picked up a billiards cue stick leaning against the cinder block wall. He pointed to a small pile of cut-out cardboard squares that had been marked with a black Sharpie. There were five counters marked “A” through “E.” Next to it was a similar pile of squares marked “SUV” and a pile of squares marked with “TR,” for pickup truck. He placed these various counters down on the map while he spoke.
“To secure the seed, we need to neutralize their security force. While we stage this attack, we stay on the public lands as long as possible, since they won’t be patrolling that area.” Messia traced the border of the private land marked in red. “I’ll provide maps and GPS before you leave today. All vehicles will be moved offroad on public land and covered with the A-TACS camouflage nets. Lead vehicles will need bolt cutters in case you run into locked pole gates. License plates will be swapped out with those in our inventory.
“Ramos, you’re the Alpha Team leader, and Munoz is your assistant. Your team will take a position on this high ground southwest of their headquarters and be the main attacking force, following along Grassy Lake Creek toward the target.
“Garcia, you’re Bravo Team leader. Harmon is your assistant. Your team is going to stage on the main AgriteX road approaching from the south, about a thousand meters short of the private land marker.
“Figueroa, you’re Charlie Team leader, with Santos assisting. You will stage on the western approach road short of this ridgeline.
“Alvarado, you’re the Delta Team leader, and your team will secure the entire northern route from Little Jack Creek to protect the convoy route as we move the seed out.”
Alvarado looked disappointed he wasn’t participating in the main attack, but Messia moved on, as he knew Alvarado was the least experienced of his team leaders.
“Teams Bravo and Charlie will move in to load the seed following the attack by Alpha, bringing vehicles from the west and south. We’re going to use these Midland two-way radios for communications, channel thirteen.
“And Team Echo, led by Ramirez and Sandoval, will be with me during the attack.”
Messia omitted his own team’s location—on that small chance he might be betrayed, the other teams wouldn’t know his position. His personal security team was comprised of those people he’d known the longest.
“So the night will begin with the attack by Team Alpha from the southwest,” Messia said. “First objective is to locate and secure the seed. We are looking for black-and-white bags labeled “Erosion Control Seed” from the Hopkins Seed Company. At every opportunity, we kill their patrolling force while retrieving the seed, and damage or destroy their office. I want Marshall Owens taken alive if possible.”
Messia split up the remainder of the TR and SUV markers between the Bravo, Charlie, and Delta teams.
“We’re spreading out the load vehicles,” he said. “In case we encounter difficulties, we’ll be able to get the loading started or, worst case, still bring back part of the load. Your teams will ensure all weapons are test fired within the next three days and all vehicles inspected. We can’t have any breakdowns. Once in position, don’t turn on your vehicles until the attack starts. And no ci
garettes, guys.”
Messia pointed to several areas marked with a “PC” on the map.
“Once the attack begins, you will establish armed checkpoints at these locations so AgriteX can’t get any vehicles out. Make sense?”
There were nods all around.
“Now, about the compensation,” he said, twirling the cue stick. “The size of the cash payments you and your teams receive are contingent on bringing back the seed.”
Messia pointed to another hand-drawn floor map on the other side of the garage.
“We have drawings of the headquarters and the surrounding area we’ll get to later. We believe the person who got this key information for us is now dead, since they are no longer in contact.”
Messia paused as he thought about the bravery of Carol Ries and the brief relationship they had. He needed more Carols and fewer gang mercenaries, but people like Carol were years in the making. Messia then thought of how the Nehalem hit had turned into a mess with one killed and one captured, and it reminded him of his next point.
“We need people on your teams we can trust. We’re going to review the lists of all the people who you have assembled, and we want you to pick the best.”
There were nods all around him. Messia then looked at Cisneros, which reminded him that maybe he should try to break the tension just a little bit.
“David won’t be coming along on this attack due to the physical requirements of the strike.” Messia pointed his thumb at Cisneros’s belly. “We’d need an extra truck just for that.”
Everyone laughed and Cisneros acted like he was offended.
“So my friends, any questions so far?” Messia asked.
“Yeah, when’s the attack?” Garcia asked.
Messia paused, and his demeanor changed again to complete seriousness. He bounced the thick end of the stick on the cement.
“We attack on the Fourth of July. Oregon people love their fireworks, so no one will think twice about any faraway noise we’ll be making in the forest. If anyone leaks the attack date, I will hold everyone in this room personally responsible. I will give you all a number to call if you are caught by the authorities. This will connect you with a lawyer I know, and you will say nothing to anyone else. But do not get caught. Am I clear?”
Messia made eye contact with everyone and they nodded in response.
“Any final questions before we dive deeper into the attack plan?”
“Yeah,” Cisneros said, “the question I’m sure is on everyone’s mind but they are too cowardly to ask.”
Messia suddenly looked very concerned. “And what’s that?”
“What are we doing for lunch?”
Everyone laughed.
Messia pointed at Cisneros with the stick. “I don’t know,” he said, “but since you’ve given it serious thought, you’re now in charge!”
CHAPTER 36
Thursday, June 27
11:28 a.m. (PDT)
AgriteX
A number of automated cameras alerted the guard to the vehicle’s approach on the commercial route, and he immediately passed on the plate number for analysis. The make and model didn’t match any vehicle on the appointment list for today, and visitors were required to provide that information to book an appointment. He then notified Joshua Pierce that three unidentified males were on their way to see him.
Special Agents Graves, Jenkins, and Stephenson walked through the entrance atrium, paused for a minute at the fountain to speak a few words to one another, then approached the security desk.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” the guard said. “May I help you?”
Graves stepped in front and rested his hands on the security desk. He was short and middle-aged with a bad comb-over. His face, including his sizable jowl, was pink from a mild sunburn.
“Hi,” he said, showing his credentials. “I’m Agent Neal Graves with the DEA. We need to speak to three of your employees: Walter Lefear, Hank Stanfield, and Kinkade Sims.”
“I’m sure we can help. And what’s this regarding?”
“Those three were witnesses to a shooting that occurred in Nehalem on Tuesday,” Graves said.
“Okay, just one second.” The guard spoke into his headset while typing on the keyboard in front of him. “We have three gentlemen here from the DEA who would like to speak to Walter Lefear, Hank Stanfield, and Kinkade Sims about a shooting in Nehalem.”
Joshua Pierce’s voice came through the guard’s headset and told him what to say.
“Lefear and Stanfield are being notified,” the guard said, “and HR will bring them out soon. But Kinkade Sims isn’t here, because he’s no longer an employee.”
Graves looked like he was at a loss for words, so Jenkins stepped closer and spoke.
“Mr. Sims told the Tillamook County Sheriff on Tuesday that he was an employee of AgriteX.”
“One moment,” the guard said. “Our HR director will be out to speak with you. She’ll explain the situation, if you could please have a seat over there.” The guard pointed to a reception area.
The three men sat down in the nearby U-shaped nook and sent a few text messages to one another until a tall blond woman in her early forties emerged from the secure access door carrying a tablet computer and a clipped bundle of papers. The three agents stood up and introduced themselves with names only.
“Hi, I’m Kathie Lautermann,” she said, and glanced down at her notes. “We’ll have Walter Lefear and Hank Stanfield out shortly. The Kinkade Sims situation—I thought I’d come and give you the details about that myself.”
“And where is he?” Stephenson asked.
“As of yesterday, we don’t know any more,” she said, “and here’s why—on Tuesday we received the urinalysis results from Mr. Sims as part of a random drug test we conducted the previous week. Mr. Sims failed the test, so we terminated his employment immediately per company policy.”
Jenkins felt a slight chill when she said terminated.
“So if he’s not here, where can we find him now?” Jenkins asked.
“I have his mailing address for Herndon, Virginia,” she said, “which is where he told us to send any subsequent paperwork. I assume that’s where he’d be returning to.”
“Wait—Sims was working here as recently as last week, but his address is Virginia?” Jenkins asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, he was part of our management training program, which includes free onsite boarding,” she said.
“How long was he an employee?” Stephenson asked.
Lautermann referred to the printout in her hand.
“His employment agreement was signed on June tenth,” she said, “so with the twenty-sixth being his last day of work, he was with us just a couple of weeks.”
“So did you escort him out the door here and leave him in the parking lot?” Jenkins asked.
She gave Jenkins a look that showed she didn’t appreciate his tone.
“No, as part of his termination outprocessing, we offered to cover the expense of a flight home and transportation to PDX, but he signed a waiver. He requested to be dropped off in downtown Portland, and so we did that late yesterday afternoon.”
“And where was he dropped off?” Jenkins asked.
“Waterfront Park.”
Lautermann watched Jenkins and Stephenson write notes. Graves didn’t write any.
“Any idea why Sims was at the location of the shooting—the Nehalem Clinic?” Stephenson asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “It was part of the management training program—volunteer work to instill in our new hires how important it is to give back to the community.”
The security access door opened and Stanfield and Lefear emerged wearing jeans and AgriteX logo polo shirts. Lautermann waved them over and they sat down.
“I’ll leave you gentlemen alone to talk. If you need to reach me again, let Ken know at the security desk, and after today, feel free to call me direct,” she said, and handed out three business cards.
“Thank you, Kathie,” Graves said.
Lautermann exited through the secure access door, walked down the hall, and stopped to look out into the entrance atrium through the one-way glass. A minute later, Joshua Pierce joined her there.
“Let me guess, they aren’t satisfied,” Pierce said.
“They probably won’t be. They seem very interested in Kinkade Sims.”
“Yeah, I heard the whole thing and agree with you. Thanks, you handled that beautifully.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I worked with PR on the statement for Cummings. Our condolences go out to his family. We are deeply saddened by the violence. All that good stuff.”
“Great,” Pierce said. “Let security know that when Lefear and Stanfield are done, we’ll need a full debrief.”
CHAPTER 37
Thursday, June 27
12:17 p.m. (PDT)
AgriteX
There were no early-morning knocks at the door that disturbed him. It was the popping sound of gunfire outside that finally woke Kade up, and after a moment of panic, thinking it might be some kind of FBI rescue, he concluded it was more Chapter training. The firing was occurring in regular bursts of a minute or so. He looked toward the barred window and saw it was daylight, and then glanced at his computer and saw the time.
He sat up in his bed and cursed himself for sleeping in so ridiculously late, and for drinking the night prior, since he still felt fatigued. The computer screen had also changed again:
You are 2 days overdue in downloading the required Daily Update.
The prompt was now red. He ignored it, rolled out of bed, and checked the door, finding it locked. He went to the dresser and pulled out the last clean AgriteX uniform with a T-shirt, pair of socks, and underwear while he formulated a number of excuses to get himself out of the room.
They’ve got us locked down until the relocation, forty-eight hours from now. I’ve got to do whatever it takes to get out of here now. Screw the attorney general’s guidelines.
I’ve had enough sleep to last me three days. Time to get back to work.