The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1)

by Kevin P. Chavous

  Jackson, Ronnie and Jenny then told Charles as much as he needed to know. They went into particular detail about what Amy Duncan heard which led to her death and the ensuing pursuit of Jackson. They summarily painted the conspiracy picture for him without sharing specific names. Through it all, Charles seemed interested, but could not see how any of this related to him. Jackson then tried to connect the dots for him.

  “So, let me tell you why we are here and how you can help. We have confirmed that the group behind the mass extermination conspiracy has perfected a poison that they have placed in food that will be delivered to selected school districts tomorrow,” Jackson said.

  Charles looked stunned, but he still did not get it. “That is awful. Look, if all that you are saying is true, and I am not saying I don't believe you, it's just a lot to take in, but I will do whatever I can to help you. Candidly, I cannot do anything about my competitors food distribution system. Everyone keeps that pretty secretive. I compete with Caremark and the others, but am willing to call Austin or whomever. I am trying to see how I can help.” Charles almost appeared to be pleading with them to show how he could help. Jackson made things clearer.

  “Let me be blunt, Mr. Charles. The poison is not being distributed by Caremark or any of your competitors. It is being distributed by you. It is coming from the food distribution centers owned by Jim and Susan Carr. Mr. Charles, the Carrs are a part of this conspiracy that we have just described for you. Right now, the trucks leaving their warehouses are carrying food full of poison to kill over a million kids. You have to help us stop these trucks. Now!”

  Charles face sank completely. “Jim and Susan? Is that what you said? They are a part of this? Impossible. There is no way... where is your proof?”

  “Yes, there is a way Mr. Charles, and the Carrs found it,” Jenny said. “They have been paying scientists for a couple of years to refine the poison. Now they have gone underground. We do not have the direct proof we need. But we know they are involved. We need you to stop those trucks.”

  Charles was beginning to gather himself. He still looked skeptical, but was not as unsteady as he had been. He spoke hesitantly, “I am sorry. This is incredible. Plus, it is late on a Sunday night. Is there anyone else I can talk to... you know?”

  “To confirm what we just said? Is that what you mean?,” Jackson asked.

  Charles said nothing, but nodded weakly.

  Ronnie, who had not been involved in the conversation up to this point, said, “Jack, we don't have time to waste. Get Rex and Reba on the phone.”

  Jackson did just that. On the drive to Baltimore, Jackson, Ronnie, and Jenny were trying to grapple with the lack of proof they had regarding the Carrs. They knew that Charles would not risk his whole operation and his future on a hunch. They agreed that the only person who could help them was Rex Duncan. Even though Jackson had tried to broach the subject with Reba earlier in the day, he had to talk with Rex directly and get him to agree to lean on Charles. It was the only chance they had. Jackson had called Rex and made his case. Like Reba, Rex was hesitant to embrace the concept that Charles could be involved in any way. Finally, Jackson made his final, emphatic point.

  “Senator, please look at it this way. If we are wrong, over a million school kids will miss lunch for one day. Yes, there will be some finger pointing, but everyone will get over it. On the other hand, if we are right and do nothing, by this time tomorrow a million and a half kids will be dead, leading this nation to virtual chaos.”

  Sitting in the Sonesta restaurant, Jackson got the senator on the phone and handed it to Charles. Rex absorbed all that Jackson had said and then agreed to talk with Charles. After two minutes on the phone with the senator, Charles was a different man. He hung up the phone and handed it back to Jackson saying, “I am sorry. It just seemed so impossible. By the way, Reba Duncan says she is sorry she doubted you.”

  Jackson suppressed a smile.

  Charles then said, “Let's go to work.

  For the next three hours, that Sonesta Harbor Hotel restaurant booth served as a command center of sorts for the four of them. Jenny pulled out her laptop, while Charles was frequently using his iPad. Jenny had Sweeney on the phone.

  Charles also got his administrative assistant on the phone as well. Jackson had gone to the restaurant manager offering a thousand dollars to shut down the section they were in for a couple of hours. He said fine as long as they were done by 10 pm, the restaurant’s closing time.

  As they got started, Jackson wanted clarity on the amount of kids involved. He asked Charles, “So how many kids do you service through your lunch contracts in the nine school districts?”

  Approximately 1.6 million children. Keep in mind, it is not just lunch. We serve breakfast at about thirty per cent of the schools.”

  Hearing that, Jackson, Ronnie, and Jenny all felt a panicked jolt. None of them had even given consideration to breakfast.

  “Wow,” Jenny said. That gives us far less time. We were solely focused on lunch. Doesn't breakfast often get served before the first class starts?”

  “That's right, Jenny,” Charles said. In many cases, only a skeleton crew of staff is at the school when we start serving.”

  Jackson buried his head in his hands.

  In the meantime, the first thing Charles did was to try and stop the trucks. He called each of the Carr distribution centers and spoke personally with the site leaders. He then tracked down the Carrs' COO, who confided that he was under strict orders not to stop the delivery, that there was no condition under which he would do so. Charles was flabbergasted.

  Deep down, once he was convinced that all he had heard was true, he fully expected to be able to stop the shipments by making a few calls. To be stymied so quickly and so unequivocally was a surprise. The full weight of the conspiracy was settling in on him as it had on Jackson the previous week while he was on the run.

  Of course, none of this surprised Jackson, Ronnie, or Jenny. They had been on a race against time for several days and understood how formidable the plan architects really were.

  Charles and his assistant then sent emails to all nine of the school districts where he had contracts as well as the small and community colleges. His assistant reminded him that school administrators were often terrible with email responses and that they would be lucky if sixty per cent opened their emails by noon tomorrow. In addition, there were hundreds of individual schools in those nine school districts. With those kind of numbers, even in the best of circumstances, chances are that many of the schools would not get the word in time and thousands of children could die.

  By now Charles had taken off his stylish dark olive sport coat that perfectly matched his sharply pressed, pleated blue dress slacks. He had also rolled up the monogrammed sleeves to his tailor-made blue pin striped shirt. Jackson could see that panic was creeping up on Joseph Charles.

  “Jenny,” he said, “can you and Sweeney give us some options from a technological point of view? Let's all think. What is the best way to communicate with school districts?”

  Charles corrected him. “At this point, professor Lowery,” he said, “we need to stop thinking about school districts and start thinking about individual schools. We have to figure out how to talk to all of them and keep talking to them.

  Ronnie stated what would have been the obvious solution, if they had better proof against the Carrs. “Is there any way we could convince the police to go to every school and embargo the trucks?”

  “A handful might do it, but so many would not. As you have been saying, we have to stop all of the trucks. Anything short of 100% still kills kids,” Charles said.

  “I wish there was a way for us to send someone to every school and make an announcement,” Ronnie said. The word 'announcement' triggered something in Jackson.

  “Announcement,” he repeated. He looked at Jenny. She picked up on it.

  “I think I get where you are going, Jackson,” she said. “Most sc
hools have morning announcements. Can't we do the same thing?”

  Jackson continued, “Sweeney, can we tap into these schools public address systems?”

  “Sure can,” said the voice from the speakerphone.

  By now, Charles was trying to figure out who the kid was on the phone. “Are you saying that this guy on the phone can hack into the systems of over a thousand schools by morning and make a group announcement at those schools?”

  Jenny sounded like a proud mama when she responded. “That is exactly what we are saying and he can do it long before morning.”

  Charles looked confused. “If you have those kind of capabilities, my assistant and I can get you the list of every school,” he said.

  Jackson took a long breath. He finally could envision a remedy. He did not want to lose the momentum. By now, they had left the restaurant and had checked into a suite at the hotel. They all realized that they would be up all night. He checked the time and realized that it was after 3 am.

  “Can we also leave group voicemail messages on each school's main number, as well as the numbers for the principal and person who runs each cafeteria?”

  “I can do that, too,” said the voice from the speaker.

  Charles was shaking his head. “We can get you all of those numbers, as well.”

  Sweeney said, “That would be helpful, but as long as I have the school names, I can get to all the right staff.”

  By 6 am Sweeney had left voicemails for the key staff at each school serviced by Bartlett Foods. The message had been recorded by Charles and was short, but direct. 'I regret to inform you that the food delivered to your school this morning has been poisoned. It is toxic for human consumption. Under no circumstances should you serve the food or unload it from the truck. If it has been unloaded, store it in a place away from humans.'

  Ronnie had been calling police precincts all night and almost half of those he reached said that they would send units to the schools to make sure that the food was not touched. Also, once it was clear that Charles could not get the trucks to stop, Jackson called F.B.I. Director Harrington. Harrington was skeptical at first, but he agreed to get the Feds involved and to also lean on local officials. Both Jackson and Harrington worried that they may be too late. “That’s a lot of trucks to be intercepted, Jackson,” Harrington said. “There is still a chance that some may make it through. We all must continue to inform the local schools.”

  At 6:30 am, the public address system at all the schools began blaring a message from Charles. Sweeney ran the same message every fifteen minutes for an hour and a half. Soon, the word was getting out to the media and police departments that were at first unresponsive, started to respond. By 9 am, all of the thousand plus schools had received the message. Plus, many trucks were stopped by either the F.B.I. or local police. None of the food was opened. No child was injured or killed.

  In Chicago, Charles had sent his staff to certain schools in order to seize the food from the trucks as soon as they arrived. Working with the Feds, his staff took the food to a lab on the south side of the city where a team of doctors and scientists examined the shipments. By noon, the experts confirmed the worse. All of the food was contaminated, having been wrapped in plastic packages saturated with poison. If any of it had been ingested by a child, that child would have died.

  By the end of the school day, federal authorities had saturated each school. The authorities quarantined every school kitchen and took possession of every delivery truck they could find. The plan had been stopped.

  AFTERMATH

  ONE

  It is often said that a civilized people are always on the brink of chaos. A faint spark of dissonance can lead to widespread revolution; a seemingly stable nation can become unglued in an instant. The organizers of the plan were banking on that incongruity, the fragility that makes our democracy precious and precarious at the same time.

  Fortunately, it is also the resiliency and good heartedness of our people that allows us to bounce back, even during the worst of times. As word trickled out about the attempt to poison a million black and brown children, passions exploded. Yes, the crisis had been averted, but now the recriminations would begin. Some took to the streets, many talked of retribution, all were outraged.

  It was at this moment when the calm, steady leadership of departing President Barry Coleman and Joseph Charles made a difference. Sensing the need to identify a hero, President Coleman publicly thanked Charles for his role in stopping the plan. Coleman reported that it was Charles who had suspected the diabolical plot hatched by the Carrs and their cronies. Coleman further said that Charles followed his own intuition by stopping the food distribution without having all the proof he needed.

  The President called Charles an American hero who saved millions of lives because of his quick thinking and selfless actions. In turn, Charles credited Senator Rex Duncan, who refused to let friendship get in the way of doing the right thing when he exposed General Brock's conspiracy. Charles praised Rex and Reba for 'not letting their grief stop them from finding out the truth' about their daughter's death. President Coleman effusively thanked Senator Duncan as well, fueling speculation that the president would be supporting the senior senator from Idaho to be his successor.

  __________

  Three days after the plan had been stopped, Jackson woke up in a cold sweat. He was soaked. He sat on his bed and looked all around. It was still dark outside. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 4 am. Jackson shook his head, got out of bed and started to take off his tee shirt. He was shivering. He grabbed a fresh shirt from his dresser and went to the bathroom. Still cold, Jackson decided to make some coffee. Once the coffee started to brew, Jackson sat at his kitchen table and tried to dissect his thoughts. He had dreamed of Amy Duncan for the last two nights. On this night, Rex Duncan was also in the dream. Amy was running from her father, while at the same time, calling out Jackson's name. “Help me, Jackson,” she kept saying. “Help me!”

  Jackson was wondering why he was feeling unsettled about Rex Duncan. What was bothering him? The coffee pot started to scream. Jackson poured himself a cup and walked to his living room, where he stretched out on his sofa. His thoughts returned to Rex and Reba. And Amy. Was Amy trying to tell him something?

  Jackson closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what was lurking beneath the surface of his brain. He sat up, walked to his window and opened the curtains. There was no scenic view on Cecil Place, just the single lane street shaded by a few townhouses. If he strained a look to his left, Jackson could see the monstrous Whitehurst Freeway. Still, he often looked out his window as a means of channeling his thoughts. After a few minutes, he went back to sit on the sofa. Think in simple terms, he told himself. Soon, a thought came to him. More of a question. It was a simple question, which could lead to other questions.

  Why does it seem that Rex is not devastated by Amy's death?

  Is Jackson being unfair? People bear their grief differently. Reba was obviously destroyed, but Rex always seemed to be in control. Is that just the mark of a good leader? For some reason, that question kept coming to Jackson. But that in and of itself is a flimsy reason to think negatively about Rex. His show of grief - one way or another - doesn't prove that he was involved in the plan. Jackson got off of his sofa and walked back to the window.

  There was something else driving his thinking. It was in the back of his mind, but was not coming through. Looking out the window, he noticed two of the famous Georgetown rats racing down Cecil Place, dutifully running the right way down the one-way street. The rodents passed by his house and turned right toward the newer townhouses across the street from him. ‘Rex and the General,’ Jackson thought to himself, naming the rats, while snickering. Then, it hit him. He knew why he felt that Rex Duncan knew more about the plan than he was letting on.

  Jackson snapped his fingers, rushed back to his bedroom and got his phone. He called Joe Sweeney. It took a few rings, but Sweeney
finally picked up the phone.

  “Hello,” he said softly, obviously having been awakened.

  “Hey, Sweeney. Sorry to wake you up, but I need your help. It's important. How soon can you get here?”

  Silence.

  “Sweeney?” Jackson said.

  “Jackson, is that you?” a sleepy voice said.

  “Yes, yes, it's me, Sweeney. I need you. How soon can you get here?”

  Sweeney was now awake.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Just then, Ronnie walked into the living room. He was planning on getting Rose and Ronnie, Jr. from the bunker the next day. The fresh smell of coffee woke him up.

  “Was that Sweeney on the phone, Jack?”

  “Hey, Ronnie. Yeah, I asked him to come over.”

  “Right now?”

  Jackson nodded.

  Ronnie looked at his friend and turned toward the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. Jackson just watched him, saying nothing.

  Ronnie came back into the living room, took a sip of his coffee and said, “So this thing is not over, is it?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Okay. Let me call Jenny. She better get on over here.” Jenny was staying at the Crystal City Marriott, contemplating when she would be going back to Atlanta.

  __________

  Late that afternoon, Jackson, Ronnie, Jenny, and Ed Harrington were all standing on the Duncan's front porch of their Kalorama home. Sweeney was in class. Jackson knocked on the door.

  Reba opened the door, smiling when she saw Jackson. As she looked at the others and noticed their expressions, she became concerned and said, “Did something happen?”

  Jackson spoke, “No, Reba. We just need to talk with you and Rex.”

  Reba called out for Rex and let them in.