The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1)

by Kevin P. Chavous

  Jenny paused for effect.

  “Are you saying, Jenny, that it is possible that Mills, Merchant, and their crew are propping Claremark up? Is that what's going on?” Jackson asked.

  “We have no evidence of that, but that is what I am saying. Based on what Amy heard, they are looking to infect the food supply of kids in a big way. One other thing. As you know, I work at the CDC and deal with mass poison theories all the time. In order for the right kind of poison to work, you need widespread distribution at the same time. That is what makes the food service contractor idea brilliant. But you also need a singular distribution source. That way you can make sure that the poison is in the food that is loaded into every truck that leaves the food making facility. Of the four we have discussed, Claremark and Jawer control their own food making facilities. With the others, they have contracts with other food companies, who may also service other clients. The cleanest way to do this is if you control everything, from soup to nuts.”

  “We need to look at the ownership of Claremark and Jawer,” Ronnie said.

  “I have started on that and will do more research on them tomorrow,” Jenny said.

  “Very helpful, Jen,” Ronnie said. “But how does this all relate to the senator? We know he chairs the agriculture committee in the Senate. But there has got to be something more to it than that.”

  “I agree, though I haven't figured that out yet, either. Obviously, there is some aspect to Duncan being president that makes this plan work. It may not be him, per se, but rather, who comes with him once he is elected.”

  Jackson and Ronnie looked at each other. “That has got to be the key,” Jackson said. “Mills, Merchant, and their crew need Duncan in the White House because someone who is sure to be in the administration is essential to them pulling this whole thing off.”

  “Alright, boys,” Jenny jumped in. “Once you make it through the night, what are your next steps?”

  “We both feel that we need to get back to D.C. We need to confront Mills and also find a way to get to the senator,” Ronnie said. “We need more answers.”

  Jenny was thinking it all through. “Here's what I think,” she began. “As crazy as it sounds, I like Jackson's idea of hanging in the woods by the diner. If you can break in and steal a couple hours of sleep, all the better. I kept the ID I used for the room, so I will go back there and spend the night. We are only fifteen minutes away from there, so you can drop me off nearby. My bags are in the room.” She then lifted up the room key holder with a number written on it. “If it makes sense to go to the room in the morning, here is the key and room number. Be sure to use the back door. The camera is disabled and the room is right by the door.”

  “What about D.C., Jen?” Ronnie asked.

  Jenny's response was quieter, more hesitant. “Ronnie, I just don't know. Something else has got to give. It feels like you are fighting with an arm tied behind your backs, with no room for error.” She then lifted up an envelope and demonstrably handed it to Ronnie. “Like you, my friend, I have my own version of hideaways out there. Here are the directions and access to my place in Bryce Mountain, near Basye, Virginia in the Shenandoah Mountain range area. It is about six hours from here, but less than two hours from D.C. I feel like the roads may be too hot and heavy tonight, but during the day tomorrow, it could be easier. Go there first and regroup. I don't like the idea of you guys being so loose on the street. You need a safe place. Use this one.”

  Ronnie nodded. “This helps a lot, Jen. Thanks.”

  “I don't know what to say, Jenny,” Jackson muttered, looking down.

  “Fuck that,” Jenny said. “Just go save the world.”

  They all laughed.

  __________

  Strother and McNair landed in Asheville, North Carolina around 10 pm that evening. By now, roadblocks had been set up within a two-hour radius from Newport, Tennessee. The Feds were also checking hotels and motels in and around Knoxville, Asheville, and even Greenville, South Carolina. Strother, as was his nature, liked to work backwards. Once he and McNair got into their rented SUV, he told McNair where to go. “Take me to the diner,” he said.

  McNair nodded and headed up I-40 north toward Newport.

  __________

  Jackson and Ronnie dropped off Jenny within a ten minute walk from her hotel. They made sure to pick a spot where there were no people or cameras watching. They agreed to check in with her in the morning.

  On the way from Asheville to Newport, Jackson and Ronnie saw several police cars headed opposite from them, many with their flashing lights on. They did not see one police car headed in their direction. Once they got near the town of Newport, Ronnie navigated to the back roads. He instinctively knew where the diner was and was looking for the right place to park the Grand Cherokee, so as to not draw attention. Although he did not say anything, Jackson once again wondered why Jenny picked such a showy car. You don't see many Jeep Grand Cherokee's in this part of Tennessee. It also did not help that the car was white. Ronnie must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, “to be honest, I did not think as much about where we park this car, Jack. This could be a problem.”

  “I know. This car is making me more and more nervous,” Jackson said.

  By then, Ronnie was traveling on the street that ran parallel to the street where the diner was located. There was about a mile and a half between the two streets. Out of nowhere, Ronnie pulled over and stopped. Then he smiled.

  “What?” Jackson said.

  “Look around you,” he said, smiling.

  Jackson looked around, noticing that they were in a light industrial area. There were a handful of beige, bland looking buildings, all with loading docks attached to them. There was also a tractor dealer and a hardware store. Then, Jackson saw it. A used car dealership. Although it mainly consisted of trucks, there were a smattering of SUVs on the lot, including a few Grand Cherokees.

  “Nice!” Jackson exclaimed.

  The men then pulled onto the lot and parked their Grand Cherokee next to the other ones. Taking care to look around, they unloaded their gear and walked across the street toward the woods. If Ronnie's memory was correct, the back of the diner should be at the end of the woods, within a mile away. They began their short walk.

  “So, what is Jenny's story,” Jackson asked as they walked through the woods. “Does she have family?'

  “Jenny is a hard case, Jack. She had a tough, abusive childhood. She had one major relationship, but he could not handle her independence and strength. That is about all I can say, Jack. She is a good woman, who cares about her country, but who has been given the short end of a lot of sticks. There is no one better in the trenches, though.”

  “Obviously,” Jackson said. “I sure hope she finds her peace.”

  “Yeah. And, I hope we find this diner. I am ready to take a load off,” Ronnie said.

  Soon thereafter, they could see the edge of the woods and the roof of the diner.

  Once at the end of the woods, they stayed hidden while looking in all directions. Ronnie then held his hand out for Jackson to stay back, while he ambled toward the diner's back door. Jackson saw him turn the back door knob, easily opening the door. Ronnie looked back at Jackson, shrugged his shoulders, smiled broadly, then motioned for Jackson to come forward.

  Once inside, the two men laid their duffel bags behind the counter and went back into the kitchen. The diner was a vintage southern diner, with about eight booths and a counter seating area with ten swivel chairs.

  Jackson reached into the kitchen refrigerator to grab two bottles of orange juice. He sure wished he could make some coffee and maybe fry a couple of eggs, but he suspected that would not be advisable under the circumstances.

  As Jackson closed the door to the refrigerator, Ronnie held his finger to his lips and pointed down the street. A dark SUV was driving slowly down the street, heading towards the diner. Both Ronnie and Jackson scrambled to get behind the counter.
Once positioned, Ronnie whispered, “Did you lock the back door?”

  Jackson paused for a minute, then nodded his head vigorously. In response, Ronnie reached into his duffel bag and grabbed two guns, handing one to Jackson.

  They could hear the SUV pull into the diner's gravel parking lot. Then, they heard two doors open and slam. Someone was definitely checking back at the last place the two of them were seen. Jackson could tell that Ronnie suspected it was the same guys he saw fishing on the Ohio River, what now seemed to Jackson like it was a lifetime ago. Ronnie and Jackson held their breath as they strained to hear where their new visitors were headed.

  ___________

  Jenny walked confidently into the front door of the Red Roof Inn outside of Asheville, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She purposely wanted to exude that 'successful business woman after a long day’ look, a practiced visage she had used over years in many countries. The young registration desk clerk waved politely at her as she walked down the hall, made a quick right and went straight to her room. After tossing her leather jacket on the bed, Jenny turned on her secure computer and began looking up more information about Senator Duncan. What would his presidency bring to Washington beside the barrel chested Idaho native? Jenny decided to dig a little deeper and learn as much as she could about the senator and his affiliations. Half an hour into her research, Jenny was interrupted by a firm knock on her door. She quietly went to the door and saw two men in dark suits. Feds, she thought. Jenny then opened the door.

  “Excuse us, ma'am. I am John Polley and this is my partner, Jim Hurtable. We are with the F.B.I.”

  Both men showed their badges. They were legit, Jenny observed.

  “Again, we are sorry to disturb you, but unfortunately, we are in the middle of an investigation and are asking people in the area, specifically this hotel, if they have seen this man.” Polley then held up a picture of Jackson Lowery.

  Jenny took a serious look at the picture and then said, “No, I have not seen him other than on CNN recently. Is he in this area? Am I in danger?” She hugged herself while asking the last question.

  “No, not at all, ma'am. We are not concerned about anyone's safety. You are fine. We are just being as thorough as possible in our search. I hope you understand.”

  “Well, okay. So, what do you need from me?”

  “Ma'am, if you do not mind, my partner and I would like to walk through your room, peek into the bathroom, and then leave.”

  “You think I am hiding this man?” Jenny said as if insulted and repulsed by the thought.

  “Ma'am, no we don't. But we are taking a look in every room in the hotel, just to be on the safe side. We sure hope that you understand.”

  Jenny just nodded her head and backed away from the door to let the agents in. They did as promised quickly and walked back out the door. She watched them walk down the hall. Once back in her room, she looked out her window at the parking lot, which was crawling with agents. They were checking the license plates of every car. Jenny closed the window curtain, shaking her head at the same time. Good call, Jackson, she thought. Jackson and Ronnie were much safer holed up in that old diner than they would have been had they come with her to the hotel.

  __________

  Strother and McNair walked to the front door of the diner and tried to look inside. The place was pitch black. Strother leaned his head on his two cupped hands that were pressed against the window, hoping to get a clearer view of the inside. He saw an old school counter, with a bunch of round swivel chairs attached to it. This place will be crawling with people by 6 am, he thought. He then tried the front door, which was locked. McNair had gone around to the back, where he was looking in as well. He tried to open the back door, but it too was locked. Strother joined him in the back as he was working the door.

  “Shall I open it?” McNair asked. It is pretty easy to pick without leaving any real damage.”

  Strother said, “No need. You know how I am. I like to feel the people I am up against, get a real sense of them.” McNair just nodded, remembering how Strother walked around the charred remains of Ronnie Thomas' hideaway while McNair and Todd Brown waited.

  “Like I said,” McNair offered, “I can easily get us in and out.”

  “No. We have taken enough time here. I don't know where they are, but something tells me they are not that far. Let's go back to Asheville and see if our folks in D.C. have any more information. There is no doubt in my mind that the targets are coming our way.”

  “I agree, Dick. Let's go.”

  With that, they got back in the SUV and headed back to Asheville, North Carolina.

  __________

  Did you see them?” Jackson asked.

  “From behind,” Ronnie said. “They are the same guys fishing on the Ohio. The mercenaries.”

  “These guys are on it. Man! What would make them come back here?”

  “Being thorough. Leaving no stone unturned. They think there’s a chance we didn’t go far.”

  “Should we leave now, Ronnie? If we got on the road within the hour, we could make it to Jenny's hideaway by morning. What do you think?”

  “I think we keep just barely dodging bullets with these guys, so we really have to make sure we are making the right moves.”

  “You feel comfortable calling Jenny?” Jackson asked. “It feels like we should check in with her.”

  Ronnie looked at his watch. It was just past midnight. “It can't hurt,” he said.

  He made the call.

  Jenny picked up right away. “All good?” she asked.

  Ronnie then told her about their visitors. In turn, Jenny told them about hers. Ronnie made an exaggerated whistle sound when she recounted seeing hordes of F.B.I. agents in the parking lot.

  Ronnie had put Jenny on speaker, so Jackson could hear and participate in the call.

  “Jenny,” Jackson said, “do you think that the roads are safe? If we left soon, we could make Virginia by morning.”

  Jenny's response was quick and to the point.

  “Negative. Absolutely not. Think about it. If the F.B.I. had at least ten agents knocking on every door and shaking down the parking lot at THIS hotel alone, you better believe they have some roadblocks in place between here and D.C. You guys need to wait it out and leave during the day tomorrow. Grab some shut-eye, but be sure to be out of that place by 5 am. I also think that you are good to come here in the morning. I will get some breakfast buffet food and leave it in the room. Remember, park in the back. I gotta go back down south for a day or so, but will catch up with you in D.C.”

  Ronnie chuckled. “Guess you are on the team now, huh, Jen?'

  “You guys would be lost without me!”

  WEDNESDAY

  ONE

  Joe Charles was sitting in Senator Duncan's office first thing Wednesday morning. He had expected that the meeting would be canceled, but the senator's office confirmed that the meeting was still on when Charles called the office late Tuesday afternoon.

  As was usually the case, Charles did not have to wait long. The senator strode confidently into the office and greeted Charles with his usual gripping handshake, followed by a bear hug.

  “Senator, I am so very sorry about Amy. I just don't have the words, sir.”

  “No one does, Joe. Trust me. This is the hardest thing I have ever faced, but I have to keep moving. The more I sit and think about the reality of what happened to her, well, it...” The senator looked as though he was about to get choked up.

  “I do understand, senator,” Charles said. “I really do. I strongly believe that you and Reba must do whatever you must to find peace.” Charles felt he needed to change the subject and not take too much of this grieving man's time.

  “Let me get out of your hair, senator. As you know, I have a strong vision about nutrition and wellness in poor, minority communities. Chicago has become our flagship contract and the people love my approach. I think that I can
make a difference and in the process save millions down the road in health care costs by changing the eating habits of low income individuals and families.”

  The senator was absorbed and focused on Charles’ vision, which was exactly why he had come back to work – to be distracted from his grief by the work he most enjoyed doing. “Joe, you know I know your vision well. That is why I have always supported you. And I always talk you up to whatever governor, mayor, or food regulator I can. You also know that I cannot get involved in your contracts or the bidding process. That is not my style.”

  “Yes, of course, senator! And, I have never asked you to get involved in that way. But you may know that I had won nine contracts in a row fair and square before I lost the big one in New York recently. Other big ones are coming up in places like Los Angeles, Houston, Miami, Philadelphia, and Denver. We now know that my biggest competitors are getting an infusion of hedge fund money to help them buy these bids. Sorry, senator, but I do not know how else to put it.”

  “Understood, Joe. I had gotten wind of that as well. Let's say it is all true. How do you think I can help?”

  Charles leaned forward in his chair. “I have one simple request, senator. You know these hedge fund guys. Many of them are supporting you to be our next president as, by the way, I am as well. You can talk to them in ways I cannot. I am asking you to talk to some of the key hedge fund leaders and ask them to back off. I know that it is a big ask, sir, but I can compete with these guys on merit. There are over thirty major school district contracts coming up next year. In addition, I am close to this deal with several historically black colleges and universities. But, I cannot and will not pay folks off as we go state by state like these guys are doing with all the money that is coming to them.”