The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1)

by Kevin P. Chavous

  Smiling, she said, “I remember the appetite of college boys. I also figured you were not at the age yet where you started drinking your coffee black. You probably will, someday.”

  By that time, Sweeney was already digging in. The pastry tasted perfect to him.

  Having gotten over the shock from the night before, Reba had decided that she was driving the conversation. “So, young man. Tell me everything. About you. Your roommate. Your story. If we are going to work together, I need to know about you and trust you.” She folded her hands together under her chin and leaned forward on them.

  Sweeney nodded several times, still chewing. “First, Mrs. Duncan, I am so, so glad you came. I wasn't sure where to go or who to talk to and I rehearsed our meeting so many times.” Suddenly, Sweeney got emotional. He was thinking of Finn and the entire mess, finding himself getting choked up. He stopped talking in order to pull himself together.

  Reba reached out and held his hand. “That's alright, Joe. You know I understand. This has been a lot for you to hold onto by yourself.” She continued, “I am on your team now, you can trust me.”

  Sweeney smiled back, regaining his composure. He then told her everything. He told her about himself, about Finn, and their friendship. He then went into greater detail about the way Finn reacted to Amy and the professor. He said that the two of them debated all weekend the meaning of true love. This part of the conversation provoked a teary-eyed response from Reba.

  When he finished, she said, “Thank you. Now, is that all I need to know about you?”

  Sweeney looked at her. He wasn't sure if she knew his story with the government or not, but he went ahead and told her.

  Reba just nodded her head. “Okay, Joe. It seems to me that we should be able to use your skills to help us get to the bottom of all of this. Do you have any ideas?”

  Sweeney perked up. “I have been up all night thinking about it. Listen, who would we both like to talk to as a way to get a handle on all of this?”

  “Jackson Lowery” she said, without hesitation.

  “Right. But, he is on the run and the bad guys want him dead too. But, he is the key. Amy told him whatever she knew that led to her death. All night, I have been thinking about the best way to draw him out, but in a way that he feels safe reaching out.”

  Reba arched an eyebrow. “And?” she said.

  “Hear me out. What if we send him a message that is coded and wrapped in the form of a reward announcement from you?”

  She looked confused. “How do we do that?” she asked.

  Sweeney was beyond animated now. He held his hands out flat, pushing them down as if to say hold on.

  “Later today, you could release a statement announcing a private hotline for information leading to the arrest and capture of your daughter's murder. Make the award say, $100,000. I can monitor all the calls and messages. And trust me, the bad guys will not have anyone on their team who can hack into my security setup to track the calls we receive.”

  Still confused, Reba asked, “But what in the message will make it likely that Professor Lowery will call?”

  “It will be the hotline number itself. Finn picked Amy up at 1789 Restaurant, right down the street from here. We could put 1789 in the number. Something like 1-800-123-1789. Get it?”

  Reba was deep in thought. “The idea makes sense.” She paused, and then said, “Let's adjust the number a bit. How about 1-800-AMY-1789? That would get his attention.”

  Sweeney smiled broadly. “Even better,” he said. “Much better.”

  “Now, tell me how we set this up.” Reba replied.

  __________

  Strother hung up the phone after getting an updated report from R.J. Strother was mystified by what was going on between this college kid and Reba Duncan. He got the techies to check the valet work schedule at the Four Seasons in order to get the kids name. Soon, he would also have his profile.

  Walking back into the conference room in Fairfax, he continued the meeting that had been interrupted by R.J.'s call. In the room were Livermore, McNair, and Todd Brown. “As I was saying before I got R.J.'s call, we are pulling the surveillance today because there are some action items we need to take care of. Russ, you, Todd, and two of the younger team members are on this Roberts woman. Latch on to her at the airport and follow her until she connects with Lowery and Thomas. Then take them all out. Quickly and efficiently. Livermore, I may need you as back-up for R.J. if we decide to take out this Sweeney kid. Once I get more information on him, I will ask our bosses’ opinions.”

  Mason then poked his head in the room. “Excuse me sirs, we know who the Four Seasons valet is.”

  “And?” McNair said.

  “He was the Uber driver Finnegan's roommate.”

  Livermore groaned audibly.

  __________

  Tyler had set up a quick conference call with General Brock and two other powerful members of their group, perhaps the most powerful. While Mills and Merchant planted the seeds that got the group together, Jim and Susan Carr were the ones who made the philosophy seem real to the group. In his quiet way, Jim helped General Brock understand the difference between white nationalism and white supremacy. Jim Carr also introduced General Brock to the teachings of various eugenicists like Henry Fairfield Osborn.

  As Carr simply explained, “White nationalism is the belief that national identity should be built around white ethnicity, and that white people should be in control to protect our interests and our ethnic pride. White supremacy is the profound understanding that white people are genetically and intellectually superior to darker skinned races, including the Jews. We know it and deep down they know it, too. For those of us who are so enlightened, we must do all we can to maintain the purity of the white breed and keep the darker skinned people of the world in a subservient role. If we fail to do so, our republic is forever doomed.”

  The Carrs ran one of the largest food supplier companies in the country. Yes, the big boys like Claremark, Jawer, and Honeyberg had the contracts and each of them ran their own food distribution divisions, but their quality control suffered. Companies like the Carr Company specialized exclusively in preparing, packaging and distributing quality food in bulk. Although, they had ten warehouses located across the country, the Carrs did not have any direct food service contracts with school districts. Recently, however, they had entered that space as a subcontractor. The Carrs had just signed an exclusive agreement with one of the major food supplier companies to supply them with certain foods on every new contract. Like Mills, Merchant, Tyler, and Brock, they too were part of the secret white supremacy group. But, they were a critical part since they were the ones funding the research on the poison and also supplying the food.

  The Carrs had been working closely with the scientists in Pennsylvania, trying to find a way to disseminate the poison expeditiously. For months, their collective thinking was to insert the poison in the food or as part of the preparation process. Recently, however, the scientists began to look at packaging. They were examining whether food wrapped in plastic packaging saturated by poison would absorb the toxicity necessary for the plan's implementation. Preliminary results were encouraging.

  The Carrs were able to deflect attention away from themselves politically by appearing left wing. They extolled the virtues of organic, plant based, non-GMO healthy foods, and they were publicly apolitical. The Carrs had been made aware of the drama at the Duncan household earlier this week, but neither Carr liked to get their hands dirty. Tyler, however, thought it was time to bring them into the fold and get their input.

  After bringing everyone up to date, especially regarding the Sweeney-Reba Duncan connection, Tyler asked if anyone had any thoughts. The General piped in first. “What a goddamn cluster fuck. That damn Mills is a royal fuck up. Before this Sweeney kid got to Reba, we had been talking about containment. Now, we are in a position where everything can be exposed and our opportunities lost.”

 
Tyler responded. “It is bad, General. There is no doubt about it. But things still may be salvageable. The contractor has a bead on the professor and his helpers. That should be taken care of in a day or so. The question for us right now is how we deal with Mrs. Duncan's mission. She is not going to stop until she gets real answers.”

  Here, Susan Carr interjected. “She is a mother, for God's sake. What do you expect? Jim and I think it is clear what the only answer is. Isn't it obvious?”

  In fact, it was obvious. Steve Mills and possibly even Bill Merchant had to be thrown under the bus. But, it had to be done in a way to deflect from the overall mission of the group. They had to make it look like a business deal had gone bad for Mills. Or something like that. Once all of this had been discussed, Tyler agreed to come up with the story they would use. He was going to involve the contractor in it.

  At some point, the General would sit down with his dear friends and tell them what he had unearthed about Steven Mills. Whatever it was, it had to be enough to satisfy Reba Duncan. With that framework of a plan in place, they agreed to reconnect soon and they all hung up. Tyler immediately reached out to Strother to discuss a strategy.

  FOUR

  Jenny sauntered through Terminal B at D.C. Reagan airport after exiting her Delta plane from Atlanta. She was headed to the Enterprise car rental counter so she could pick up her reserved Expedition and rendezvous with Jackson and Ronnie. She was glad they had made it to her hideaway. She had been worried about them all day. Now, she was going to help them with their boldest move yet. Here is where the Expedition would come in handy. Speaking with them late last night, it was clear that they had zeroed in on their target – it was their way to play offense. It was definitely a high risk, high reward plan, but Jenny saw the logic. She believed in high stakes games.

  As Jenny settled into her rental, she began to adjust the driver's side mirror. In doing so, the mirror caught a dark haired muscular man looking directly at her. When he saw that his reflection was being caught in the mirror, he awkwardly looked away. This is not good, Jenny thought.

  Not good at all if I’m already being tracked. Jenny backed out of the parking spot and exited the rental lot. Soon she was on the George Washington Parkway headed toward I-66. She now had a decision to make and needed to alert her colleagues about her tail. She checked her encrypted phone and placed a call.

  Jackson picked up right away, pressing the speaker button on the phone. “Hi, Jenny,” he said. “We are just about to head your way.”

  “Change of plans guys. I am just leaving Reagan and I think I am being followed. At least one, I expect more. I bet that they are waiting for us to connect.”

  Ronnie placed his hands on his hips, looking at the ceiling. “We need to meet somewhere to even the playing field.”

  Jackson cut in. “But, how did they find you? That's impossible,” he said.

  Jenny was nonplussed. “Most likely through the internet searches. I am sure their tech guys are savvy enough to narrow down where internet searches have been coming from. They also probably did a thorough background on Ronnie. I know the hotel cameras caught me, but the 'how' doesn't really matter now. Let's focus on what we do.”

  “How about Luray Caverns?” Jackson asked. “We are closer to it than you are and they don't know what car we are in. When you get close let us know. Go ahead and pay to get inside. We will already be there. What do you think?”

  Jenny said nothing.

  Ronnie said, “It could work, but this is the real deal, Jack. Make no mistake about it, Jenny is being followed by a hit squad. When we strike back, there is no holding back.”

  “I read you, Ronnie. Loud and clear. What about our D.C. plan?”

  Here, Jenny commented. “They are feeling the squeeze. They may even be watching our target. We have to do this dirty work first. I like the Luray Caverns idea. But Ronnie, tell me what the play is. Remember, I am not packing.”

  Ronnie responded. “Try to see how many there are. Pull off at a gas station so you can easily see who else gets off the exit. I am thinking that Jackson will go inside and wait for you to pay and enter the exhibit. I will hide outside, see who is following you and neutralize whomever I can. It would help to know how many.”

  “Sounds good,” she said. “I will let you know about the tail.”

  __________

  Steve Mills walked back from lunch and into his spacious Connecticut Avenue office, anxious to get an update on Jackson Lowery. It had now been several days and Mills honestly thought that they would have caught the wily college professor by now. He did not want to admit it, but Mills was beginning to feel the pressure.

  As more time passed with Lowery still on the loose, Mills had become increasingly wary about his partners. You really cannot put anything past them, he thought. Mills sat behind his large mahogany desk in his leather swivel chair and sighed loudly. Though not yet two o'clock, he needed a drink. He buzzed Sarah, his longtime assistant.

  “Sarah, can you please bring me a scotch and water? It has been that kind of day.”

  He could hear her chuckled reply. “Understood, Mr. Mills. I will mix it for you right away.”

  Mills laid back in the chair. It makes a difference, he thought, to have competent help. Again, his mind drifted to Lowery. Maybe I should send Sarah after him, he thought, smiling to himself. Through it all, Mills was confident that the plan would still work. It had to.

  In his mind, implementing the plan was a final tribute to his father. Arthur Mills was a researcher for legendary eugenic scientist William Shockley. Shockley won the Nobel Prize in 1956 for co-inventing the transistor and ushering in the computer age. But his later work, which trumpeted theories of black inferiority, made him a pariah. Arthur Mills was a true believer and was blackballed for being close to Shockley. As a result, the family always struggled financially. But those circumstances also drove Mills and made him determined to validate his father's work. Mills fervently believed that both his father and William Shockley were right. Whites were superior. America belonged to them.

  Five minutes later, Sarah knocked on his door, and then walked in. She was a short, matronly looking woman with a pleasant smile. Mills liked having her around because she had spent many years as a secretary with the CIA in Langley. She knew the espionage world very well.

  Smiling, she placed the tray on his desk and handed him his drink. Mills could smell the vintage scotch and was eager to take a sip, which he quickly did.

  Sarah walked toward the door, then slowed down. She turned and looked at Mills as he took another big gulp.

  At first, Mills smiled at her, but then he felt his throat constrict. Something was not right. All of his senses were put on overload all at once. Though hard to process so quickly, he intuitively knew what was happening. He looked pleadingly at his assistant, who just stood staring at him.

  Finally, Sarah walked toward him, placed her hands on his desk, leaned forward and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Mills.”

  She smiled as Mills drifted to unconsciousness and the glass dropped on the marble floor. Miraculously, the glass did not break.

  The assistant then scooped the glass from the floor, picked up the phone on her boss’ desk and dialed a number. In response to whoever answered on the other end, she simply said, “It's done,” and hung up.

  One hour later the afternoon news reported that longtime, successful hedge fund manager Steve Mills had died of a heart attack while working in his northwest D.C. office.

  __________

  The news regarding Steve Mills’ death received surface treatment at best. The big news that afternoon was the statement released by Reba Duncan. Her statement, which was broadcast and read verbatim on countless news programs around the country was as follows:

  Our family remains shattered by the horrible, senseless killing of our daughter, Amy. We have decided to open a twenty-four hour, privately funded hotline to receive tips that can help us find her murderer. Any
person who provides information on this hotline that leads to a conviction will receive $100,000 from us. While we respect and appreciate the work being done by national and local authorities, we must do what we can to find the truth. Please call 1-800-AMY-1789 anytime day or night.

  Bill Merchant had been at an ITM board meeting all day, so for the most part, he had been out of the loop. He was still in the meeting when he received back-to-back CNN alerts about Mills and the Amy Duncan reward on his smartphone. Seeing the news about his friend stopped him in his tracks and sent a chill up his spine. Steve Mills, with all of his faults had been Merchant's best friend. They had known each other over twenty-five years. They vacationed together, had lunch three or four days each week together, and they had put together the group that created the plan. Now, it was apparent that the group had killed Mills. Was Merchant next? Could it be that they were waiting for his board meeting to end to finish him off?

  Merchant felt himself panicking.

  He had to gather himself. He still had a couple of hours left with his ITM colleagues, followed by a company dinner. Should he take a break and call Tyler? Maybe he should disappear for a while. Once the plan was implemented, each of the group had their own exit strategy, including hiding spots here and abroad. Merchant could easily get to his hideout in a few hours. That may make sense.

  Then, Merchant's mind shifted to the Duncans. What is that all about? he thought. Did the General know that Rex was going to do that? Or was it driven by Reba? How did things get so off-track? A week ago, the team was celebrating the lab results from Pennsylvania, and Rex Duncan looked to be well on his way to be the next president. Everything had been going according to plan. Then one faux pas... well, it was too late for replaying the situation now.

  Merchant knew that now he needed to fully focus on his own survival first and foremost. He never thought he would be thinking like this, but as far as he was concerned, the plan would just have to wait.