The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1)

by Kevin P. Chavous

  “Here is my question. Will you tell me everything you know?”

  Without hesitation, Livermore proceeded to do just that.

  TWO

  The ultimate plan was to reverse the growth and influence of the minority population in the United States. The plan was created by a group of six well-connected individuals who came together around the principles of white supremacy several years ago. Since then, they had been quietly and selectively recruiting members from both inside and outside of the government. Steve Mills and Bill Merchant started the group. Livermore's main contact was Mills until he died. Since then, his contact had been a major corporate figure. Livermore never knew his name and the man always called Livermore. Livermore did not know the names of the other members.

  The plan had three phases. Phase One was, in effect, the research and development phase. During this time, the six key group members would recruit surrogates, develop the right poison or toxin, and prepare for Phase Two, the implementation phase. As Team Jackson had figured out, the original plan was to poison the food of children in large, predominately minority school districts.

  One of the group's leaders had a relationship with one of the companies providing food to a variety of school districts. This contractor was also providing food for small colleges and community colleges as well. Livermore did not know the name of the food service provider. The group had a number of scientists working on the right ingredients for a poison that would work the best. They had been waiting for some time for the scientists to refine the poison.

  During Phase Two, the poison would be distributed to millions of people on the same day at about the same time. The expectation was that millions of young people of color would die as a result of the plan. Yes, there would be collateral damage, but that was to be expected. Indeed, the ultimate evidence of the insanity behind the plan is that thousands of white kids would die along with the million kids of color. Clearly, those behind the plan were so focused on the end goal that they were okay with murder on a large scale, regardless of the races of those killed.

  Phase Three was the police state phase. The expected fallout from millions of deaths was that it would lead to anarchy. The group was expecting that the uncertainty would force the president to activate the military, and giving the Secretary of Defense heightened power. In that role, the Secretary would use clandestine surrogates to stoke, then stifle riots and create a national police state under which was expected the rampant jailing and killing of countless more minorities and dissidents.

  As an added benefit, during this police state, the Secretary of Defense and his minions would be able to strategically identify, discredit and even kill leaders challenging their authority. The group believed that the impact of a fully executed plan with all of its phases would alter the course of history in America, permanently ensuring that whites maintained political, economic, and social superiority in the Western Hemisphere for years to come.

  Of course, if the plan ended up not as successful as expected, the conspirators would still be well positioned for the resulting chaos and race war. The leaders of the plan were determined to follow the vision laid out in The Turner Diaries. Deconstruct. Destabilize. Destroy.

  Later F.B.I. conversations with General Brock confirmed that he and his co-conspirators believed that he was positioned to be Secretary of Defense in a Duncan administration. The Secretary of Defense was the key player during Phase Three of the plan. The conspirators needed the right person in that job. They were banking on General Brock filling that role in a Duncan administration.

  Jackson, Ronnie, Jenny, and Sweeney were all riveted while watching the F.B.I. agents completely break down Livermore. Ronnie, not always one to wax philosophical, made an astute observation when Livermore finished sharing all that he knew. “The power of the mind and the psychological control that can come with that power is amazing. Agent Smith only hit Livermore one time, but Williamson controlled him as if he had been their captive for years. They had taken control of his mind and his will. I actually think they could have gotten the same information from him without throwing one punch. Something else,” he said, shaking his head.

  As Livermore was spilling his guts, however, Jackson's inner voice was working overtime inside his head. He was thinking back to what Jenny had said to them earlier about missing something. Hearing Livermore triggered Jackson's thinking. In fact, while Livermore was still talking, Jackson stood up and walked away from the computer. Whatever was gnawing at him was trying to come out, but he just could not grab it. In his mind, he was breaking down Livermore's words. He also went back to his case solving approach of looking at the who, what, when, where, why, and how of the situation. The 'how' was his focus now. He was close. But it was now Sunday and close was not good enough. Jenny had been in touch with some of the F.B.I. contacts and the agency was beginning to believe that they had dodged the bullet by arresting all of the leaders—they could find no evidence of imminent threat for Monday.

  As soon as they had stopped watching the showdown between the F.B.I. agents and Livermore, Jackson asked Sweeney to turn down the volume. Ronnie could sense Jackson's agitation.

  “What's going on, Jack? You have been fidgeting since the middle of Livermore's confession.”

  “I know. I know. Earlier, Jenny was right about us missing something. This Claremark thing is not fitting. But, I have a thought on how these SOBs were going to do this and stay undetected. Joe, please go back to the part of the Livermore confession where he talks about the school districts. Hold it right there.”

  Sweeney punched some keys on the keyboard and said, “Done.”

  “Thanks. Now, Jenny: pull out your briefing notes on the various food service providers. Remember when you briefed Ronnie and me in Asheville? You gave us the background on all the major players.”

  “Sure, I remember. I was looking at the notes earlier, because this has been bugging me so much. They are right here,” Jenny said, lifting up a stack of papers.

  “Great. You told us about Joe Charles and his goals and vision after winning the Chicago contract. But part of his vision extended beyond K-12 school districts. Remember? What exactly did you tell us about his vision?'

  Jenny looked at their notes. “Is this what you are talking about, Jackson?” She then started reading from her notes, “He gives cooking classes and has trained community members in the hood. He even has talked about bidding on food service contracts at small colleges and community colleges catering to minorities.”

  Jackson stopped her. “Yes, that's it, Jenny. That is exactly it! Now Joe, play back the Livermore interview about the plan.”

  Sweeney found the spot in which Livermore said, “This contractor was also providing food for small colleges and community colleges as well.”

  Sweeney stopped the tape.

  If a pin had been dropped anywhere in the room at that moment, it would have been heard.

  Jenny broke the ice. “Bartlett Foods. Joe Charles. He is such a good guy. He wouldn't be involved in this.”

  “No, he would not, Jenny,” Jackson said. But neither would Rex Duncan. But like Rex, he could be an unwitting pawn.”

  “Wickedly sadistic and brilliant,” Ronnie said.

  Jenny looked like she might pass out. She then gathered herself, saying to Sweeney, “Joe, can you verify that the other food service contract providers have their own food distribution sites that they own and control? Also, does Bartlett Foods?”

  Sweeney went to work on his computer. While everyone waited, the tension in the room was palpable.

  Three minutes later, Sweeney spoke. “Caremark, Jawer, and Honeyberg all have their own food distribution centers. Joe Charles and Bartlett do not.” Sweeney then pushed a few more buttons on the keyboard.

  He continued, “Bartlett has an exclusive agreement with one food distributor. In their agreement, which I have pulled up, Bartlett has promised to use this food distributor for all of its contracts, even
- and this is the exact language - 'food service provider agreements between Bartlett Foods and small colleges, community colleges, and historically black colleges or universities.”

  Jackson asked the obvious next question. “Who is the exclusive food distribution provider for Bartlett Foods?”

  Sweeney looked up from the screen. “It is the Carr Company, wholesale food distributors owned by Jim and Susan Carr.”

  __________

  Jackson, Ronnie and Jenny contemplated what they should do next. Pacing around Jackson's apartment, each of them felt the physical effects of their week-long odyssey. Jackson and Jenny had been popping pain pills left and right since going to the hospital. Ronnie was now asking them to share some of those pills with him. The blow he had received to the head from R.J. at Merchant's house may not have given him a concussion, but it did give him a nagging headache that was still there.

  Adding to the physical injuries was the stress related to the plan to poison kids. They had to stop this thing. If not, each would feel personally responsible. The pressure was mounting. Based on what they had told Rex Duncan, all law enforcement was fixated on Claremark Foods. It would look crazy for them to turn around and suggest that community icon Joseph Charles was about to poison a million black and brown kids.

  Indeed, when Reba Duncan called Jackson to let him know that she and Rex had figured out that the esteemed General Michael Brock was a part of the group that hatched the plan, he tried to explain to her that in order to be thorough, Rex should have the authorities look at Bartlett Foods. Reba scoffed at the idea. “Oh, come now, Jackson, we can’t waste the bureau's time on suggestions like that. Joseph Charles is on the right side. He fights this stuff everyday.”

  Jenny could not argue with Reba's logic. In fact, she reminded them, many people feel the same way about the Carrs. “Look, guys. I always thought that Jim and Susan Carr were hippie types. I have seen them on television talking about healthy eating and organic foods. Just like Reba said about Joe Charles, it is a tough sell to convince anyone, without any evidence, that the Carrs want to kill a million kids.”

  Jackson responded, “But, isn't that the beauty and the power of the group Mills and Merchant brought together. Most people would never suspect them. General Brock? And, who is the new guy? The one that took over for Mills? Weren't you tracking him down, Joe?”

  Sweeney nodded. He had been busy. He had just tracked down the number of the caller who was communicating with Livermore when Mills was removed from the picture. During the interview they had all watched, Livermore said that the guy who took Mills' place always called him. Sweeney tracked down the calls made to Livermore's phone and noticed that the same number had made several calls with Dick Strother, their gun for hire.

  As if everyone wasn't shocked enough, Sweeney told them that the number belonged to Hampton-Powell board chair Roger Tyler. When Sweeney dropped Tyler's name, Ronnie plopped down hard on Jackson's sofa. “Man,” he said, “it never ends, does it. I’ve always liked this Tyler guy. So, has my son, Ronnie, Jr. He is into computer hardware and he almost worked for Hampton-Powell. He decided on Dell instead.”

  Jenny was biting her nails, something Jackson had never seen her do.

  Ronnie continued, “I liked Tyler, just like Jenny likes the Carrs. How could so many smart, successful people buy into this ethnic supremacy bullshit?”

  “That is a million dollar question, Ronnie,” Jackson said. “I am sure there are psychologists and psychiatrists who can give you nice wordy reasons why. From my vantage point, so much of this stuff comes down to basic human frailties surrounding money, power, greed, and control. For some sick, insane reason, many of us feel better about ourselves when we can look down on someone else.”

  Jenny then said, “True, and we still have to stop this poison tomorrow. By the way, have we now identified all of the group members?”

  “I believe we have,” Sweeney said. “We passed Roger Tyler's name on to Harrington's folks and Tyler will be arrested soon.”

  “Yes,” Ronnie said, “but we have no proof regarding the Carrs. There is absolutely no link between them and the others. We will be hard-pressed to get the Feds or any local police force to stop their trucks.”

  Jackson asked Sweeney if he could locate the Carrs.

  Sweeney said, “From what I can see, they disappeared two days ago. They literally dropped off the face of the earth. Trust me, that means something when I say it!”

  “It truly does,” Jackson said. “And you can see no link to the other conspiracy members?”

  “None,” Sweeney said.

  “Damn it!” Jackson said. “I know it is them. We have to find a way to stop those trucks.” He hesitated, giving the problem more thought. “And, you are right, Ronnie. When I go call Harrington with new and different information, he will bite my head off and may not do anything.”

  Jenny said. “Sweeney, how can we get to Joe Charles? Can you tell us where he is?”

  Peering down at his computer screen, Sweeney said, “I have it all here. Joe Charles gave the keynote and was given an award at a big NAACP luncheon today in Baltimore. According to his iPhone calendar, he attended a follow up reception and met with some local Baltimore officials. He is about to have dinner with a couple of colleagues at his hotel and is scheduled to take one of the first flights back to his home in Chicago at 7 am. He is staying at the Royal Sonesta Harbor Court Hotel in the Inner Harbor.”

  Jackson said, “I have to say this. I am still in awe at how vulnerable we all are to the likes of people like you, Joe. Thank God you are a good guy, but in the wrong hands, access to that kind of information so quickly is downright scary.”

  Jenny said, “It is now 7:15. If we leave now, we can get to the Inner Harbor by 8:15. Toss me the keys, Ronnie. I'll drive. Sweeney, stay by the phone in case we need you.”

  Sweeney laughed. “Don't you realize that I will know when you need me before you will?”

  No one else laughed.

  THREE

  Joseph Charles was feeling better about his business and his future. Last week, he had a great meeting with Senator Rex Duncan, who had promised to help him. Charles would definitely support the senator when he ran for president. He will be good for the country, Charles thought, even though he is from Idaho. Charles had to snicker to himself. How was he going to sell a white Idaho farm boy to brothers in the hood? By being real, that's how. One thing he did like about Rex Duncan, he was real and selling him would not be hard.

  Charles also was having a productive time in Baltimore. The city schools were on his future bidding list, so any good publicity would help. This afternoon, Charles had been honored at an NAACP luncheon. The NAACP is headquartered in Baltimore so the ballroom was packed with well-known black politicos, celebrities, and other luminaries. In his speech, Charles hammered his usual themes of health, nutrition, and physical fitness. He also used his tried and true phrase that the only ones to 'save us, is us', his calling card for personal responsibility in the black community. He received a rousing ovation. More importantly, he had just been told that the Baltimore Sun would be writing a favorable piece on the dinner, with a focus on Charles' remarks. His source at the paper also told him that the Sun article would mention Bartlett Foods' highly successful school lunch program at Chicago Public Schools'. Yes indeed, this had been a good week.

  Charles had just finished dinner at his hotel with two old college friends and was killing time, catching up on email and reading the news alerts on his smartphone. After his friends left Charles remained seated in the leather booth, looking out over the Baltimore Harbor. Glancing up from his smartphone, he smiled at the memory of bringing his twin daughters to the famed Baltimore aquarium when they were nine years old. The look on their faces during that visit was priceless.

  Viewing article after article, Charles was especially intrigued by various machinations in the Amy Duncan murder. He felt horrible for his friend, the senator. Charles'
feeling of anguish was followed by more guilt for being so laser focused on his selfish business needs at a time when the senator and his wife had to deal with such an agonizing situation. Apparently, however, according to the assorted articles, the case continued to take unpredictable twists and turns. The senator’s press release from yesterday was fascinating in as much as it insinuated a conspiracy involving killers not just one killer.

  Charles was looking at a picture of Jackson Lowery, the professor first suspected of killing Amy Duncan, when he felt someone's presence at his booth. He looked up from his smartphone and saw Jackson Lowery. Instinctively, he looked back at the picture on his phone, then up at Lowery.

  “Uh, I was just reading about you,” he said to Jackson.

  Jackson looked down at Charles' phone, recognizing his own image and said, “Hello, Mr. Charles. You cannot believe everything you read. At least what you read last week. The articles today are getting better. We need to talk.”

  It was only then that Charles saw that Jackson had two people with him, an obvious military police type and a rather attractive, thin, but tough looking lady. He was more than taken aback and felt a little overwhelmed. He started to look around the restaurant.

  “We are not here to hurt you, Mr. Charles. As a matter of fact, each of us admires you and your commitment to the community. But, sir, if you do not give your full time and attention to us for the next several minutes, millions of school children will die. Right now, you are the only one who can help us stop it,” Jackson said.

  He now had Charles' full attention. Charles put his phone away and opened his arms wide, indicating to the group that they could join him at the large booth. “Well, professor Lowery. That is one hell of an introduction. Now, who are your friends?”

  Jackson introduced Ronnie and Jenny, who both shook hands with Charles. Charles reached out his hand to shake Jackson's right hand, saw that it was heavily bandaged. Jackson looked at his hand and shrugged, saying, “That, sir, is part of the story.”