Liberation Day

by Dustin Stevens

  “Axis Industries? Yeah, that sounds legit,” Thorn said, letting his voice relay his disbelief.

  “Even better? Paid in full. Cash.”

  At that Thorn’s eyebrows rose, a puff of air passing over his lips. “Damn. Place looks like a palace on the satellite imagery.”

  “Does on the real estate listing too,” Ingram said. “Gardens, pools, fountains, everything.”

  “All the makings for a criminal’s lair in a bad movie,” Thorn said.

  “My first thought as well.”

  “Who the hell has that kind of cash lying around?” Thorn asked.

  “And that was my second thought,” Ingram added. “The kind that tosses containers full of people into the harbor, I guess.”

  For a moment, silence fell between them, Thorn nodding with Ingram’s assessment.

  “What else?” Thorn asked.

  “Not a whole hell of a lot,” Ingram said. “I took a look at things from the air. Place is enormous, have to assume it’s well protected.”

  After three hours, Thorn had been over every surface visible from the heavens. Each one had already been committed to memory. More than once he had run naval ops with less concrete visual data.

  “Sheer cliff walls lining two sides of the property,” Thorn said. “High fences and gates on the other two. Whoever designed it meant for the place to be a damn fortress.”

  “Yeah,” Ingram agreed.

  “Any chance there’s much more to be mined from the records?” Thorn asked.

  Turning to face forward, Ingram squinted into the camera, wagging one hand on an edge. “Maybe, but doubtful. The back trail is clean, scrubbed to a shine. Anything I do find is likely to have been planted to throw off anybody snooping around.”

  Leaning forward, Thorn sat the laptop onto the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees. He ran a palm along the back of his head, scratching at the scalp with his fingers.

  Right now they had a location, but precious little else. There was no name, no clear motivation for what was going on. It would be possible to simply hand over the address to Turner and his associates, letting them handle it as they saw fit.

  If things happened to go sideways though, there would be no way of telling when another opportunity might present itself.

  “We need more intel,” Thorn said, placing it out there so Ingram knew he was thinking aloud rather than slinging an accusation.

  “I concur,” Ingram said, “but like I just told you, I don’t know how much more I can pick out of this stuff.”

  “No,” Thorn said, shaking his head and raising his gaze to look at Ingram. “I don’t mean financials, I mean on the house itself.”

  “Meaning?” Ingram asked.

  “When I was in the service,” Thorn said, “we had these things that were like electronic relay stations. Small, no bigger than an alarm clock.”

  “Which you used as an enhancement point for satellites,” Ingram said, nodding along.

  “Exactly,” Thorn said. “Right now I’ve got a good picture of the grounds, but I’m not seeing any more detail than cars moving around. If we could somehow get a relay station in place...”

  “We could start running facial recognition,” Ingram said, finishing the thought, his own voice trailing away as he chewed on it. “Interesting idea.”

  “The problem is, the ones we had were basically useless beyond a quarter mile out,” Thorn said. “And given the size of the grounds...”

  “It would have to be placed on-site,” Ingram said.

  Thorn nodded in agreement, not bothering to voice anything further.

  “Give me an hour,” Ingram said, “let me see what I can dig up. I’ll call you back.”

  The screen cut to blue before Thorn had a chance to respond, the bright sapphire color causing his eyes to squint. For a moment he sat and stared at the mute program before exiting out of it and pulling the satellite imagery software back into place.

  He was less than a minute into another sweep of the grounds when his cell phone vibrated on the table beside him.

  Chapter Forty

  “Put me down, dammit!” Iggy yelled as Ling hefted her onto his shoulder and carried her away from the dock. With both hands bound she pounded against his lower back, her kidney shots absorbed as if unfelt. Around her she was vaguely of aware of a dozen dockworkers, all looking on in open curiosity, nobody making any effort to aid her.

  “I said, put me down!” she repeated as Ling carried her up the gangplank and into an elevator. The entire time he kept an iron grip around her waist, stifling any attempts to wiggle free. When the door opened he marched her through the main foyer, none of the staff inside acting as if they heard her continued requests for help.

  Clearly, this was not something they were unaccustomed to seeing.

  Ling carried her up the stairwell to Gold’s office and knocked on the frame of the door. A moment later they were called inside, where Ling dumped Iggy in a chair and stepped back.

  The offering was received with a look mixed of surprise and good humor, Gold arching an eyebrow up at his employee. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

  The remark was met with no response as Ling positioned his hands before him, staring down.

  “Please, excuse us for a moment,” Gold said, shifting his attention to Iggy, but raising his voice to let it be known he was speaking to Ling. “I’d like to have a conversation with our guest here in private.”

  The only sound Iggy heard was the whoosh of fabric as Ling left the room, a breath of cool air kissing her neck for just a moment. Once it had fallen away she focused her entire attention forward, her body angled awkwardly in the chair, the bungee cords wrapped around her wrists and ankles preventing her from making any type of movement.

  ”Welcome,” Gold said, extending his hands to either side. “My name is Bern Gold, and this is my home.”

  Iggy stared back at the introduction, saying nothing.

  “What is your name, miss?” Gold asked.

  A long moment passed as Iggy stared at him, contempt on her features. “Rojas. Vanessa Rojas.”

  The same look came to Gold’s face as he met the stare, his features growing hard. “What is your real name, miss?”

  “I just told you my name,” Iggy replied.

  “Miss, as I am sure you have well surmised by now, I am a very powerful man. And you do not get to be a powerful man by being lied to. We both know you’re name isn’t Vanessa Rojas any more than mine is Abraham Lincoln. Since I don’t really care and you don’t seem interested in civil conversation though, allow me to get to the heart of the matter. Why were you snooping along the coastline?”

  Clearly their entire afternoon trip up the coast had been watched from inside the mansion, relayed to everyone relevant. For the briefest of moments Iggy felt her cheeks flush, a rush of self-condemnation for their foolishness in believing they could sneak by unnoticed.

  “We weren’t snooping. My boyfriend and I were fishing.”

  “Fishing? Really?”

  “We were vacationing and wanted to get out on the ocean. He likes to fish so I agreed to go along.”

  “Does vacationing include walking along the Boston docks late at night?”

  Again Iggy felt herself flush, warmth growing between her back and the leather seat beneath her. “I’ve never been to the Boston docks in my life. I don’t know who your man thought he saw, but it wasn’t me.”

  The corners of Gold’s mouth played up a bit. “Mistaken? Ling? Miss, I think not. The only person here that is mistaken is you if you believe you can lie to me and not soon come to regret it.”

  “Regret it?” Iggy asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion, intent to play the role of ignorant rube for as long as she could. “What do you want from me? What could I begin to have that you would want?”

  “You have information. You have the truth as to why you’re here poking around in my backyard.”

  “Not poking, just fishing,” Iggy said, heari
ng just the slightest hint of a crack in her own voice.

  It was clear at a glance that Gold had heard it as well.

  “Alright then, we shall do it your way,” Gold said. “Had you cooperated I could have made your stay here quite comfortable. Instead, you have chosen the alternative.”

  “The alternative?”

  “Ling, could you come in here?” Gold said into the hall.

  On cue, the curtain drew open and Ling stepped into the room, another puff of cool air coming with him. “Yes, Mr. Gold?”

  “Please show our guest where we keep visitors that can’t seem to tell the truth.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “Lenny Brubaker, mighty glad to know ya,” the large, red-faced man said as he pumped Ingram’s hand.

  “John Bingham,” Ingram replied, trying his best to smile and keep pace with the gusto of Brubaker’s handshake.

  “So how’d you get hooked up with this job anyway? Positions with Red Apple don’t just grow on trees, ya know?” Brubaker said, standing back with an expectant smile on his face.

  Playing along, Ingram bit back a grimace and smiled at the lame joke. “Just got lucky. Been trying for ages to get on here.”

  “Don’t I know how that goes. Spent five long years paying my dues at a local Shaw’s Market before I got the call. It’ll all be worth it in the end though, I can promise ya that.”

  The end, as it were, was something Ingram hoped was just a few hours away, though he stood and nodded anyway. “I hope you’re right.”

  The two exchanged awkward smiles for a few moments longer before Lenny clapped his hands in front of him and nodded. “All right, so you’ll be riding with me the first few weeks until ya get your feet under ya. Hop in!”

  Whistling, Lenny turned and climbed into the frozen container truck. Across from him, Ingram slid into the passenger seat and feigned interest as Lenny went through a lengthy list of things to be checked before departure.

  Cooler temperature. Invoices for the day. Inventory in the truck. Addresses of deliveries.

  The list was long and exhaustive.

  Ingram bit back the urge to roll his eyes at the tedium of it, knowing Thorn had been right. The satellite imagery wasn’t good enough to give them anything definitive and several of the people inside already knew him by sight. If there was ever going to be a chance to get a relay point on the grounds, it had to be him that did it.

  After determining that the only thing the property wasn’t completely self-sustainable on was high-end foods, the ruse had been easy enough to set up. Ingram called and pretended to be a worried parent with a forlorn son that couldn’t seem to catch a break. Red Apple wasn’t too excited about taking on a new employee or starting him the next day, but after an hour of negotiating and a $5,000 bribe, he was the newest member of the company.

  Any suspicions or inhibitions they had completely evaporated at the promise of money, as such things tended to do Ingram had found.

  Ten minutes after pulling away from the warehouse, Lenny eased the truck up behind a small market titled Simply the Best. The sign said they specialized in fresh, all-natural products, and Ingram didn’t doubt it as he climbed out of the truck to be greeted by the aroma of produce. He was introduced as The New Guy to the owners of the market and together he and Brubaker unloaded several large cases of fresh oysters and a flat of Maine lobster tails.

  The second stop on the list was a small deli known for organic meats and cheeses, Lenny watching as Ingram unloaded cases of Havarti, Gouda, and Brie. Throughout he took up a post nearby with the owners, talking loud enough for Ingram to hear him, referring to him as Newbie the entire time.

  Once the truck was loaded to capacity, they finally began their trek north up the coast.

  “Now listen,” Lenny said as they approached the enormous mansion overlooking the ocean, “ya better let me do most of the talking in here.”

  Ingram chose not to point out that Lenny had done ninety-eight percent of the talking so far that morning, instead keeping his attention outside, watching for any details that might prove useful later on. “Why’s that?”

  “These guys, they enjoy their privacy. They don’t like a lot of idle chatter and prefer for us to be in and out as fast as possible.”

  Forcing himself to stay in the present Ingram glanced over, feigning interest in the topic. “We piss them off at some point or something?”

  A look of equal parts fear and foreboding crossed Brubaker’s face as he glanced back. “I get the impression that these aren’t the kind of folks that would keep us around if we’d pissed them off, ya know?”

  “Got it,” Ingram said as they pulled up in front of a wrought-iron gate.

  Dropping the driver’s side window Lenny reached out and pushed the call button. A moment later a mechanized voice asked, “Who is it?”

  “Red Apple, sir, here with your weekly delivery,” Lenny replied in a cheery voice that bordered on sing-song.

  Outside, a pair of large cameras on either side of the gate moved along the length of the van. “Who’s the new guy?”

  “John Bingham, just started today. I’m showing him around,” Lenny replied.

  “ID?”

  Ingram took his wallet from his back pocket and removed the driver’s license he had made the night before. He held it up to the window and watched as the closest camera pivoted and zoomed in close.

  A few minutes later, the gate swung open.

  “You weren’t kidding, were you?” Ingram whispered, doing his best to feign surprise.

  “Be glad they’ve got cameras out here now. When I first started there were guards roaming the grounds. Big dogs, too.”

  Ingram kept his head faced straight ahead, though his gaze darted back and forth as the truck wound its way along the wooded lane towards the mansion. Thick trees dotted the yard and security cameras peeked out from each one.

  A pair of Dobermans raised their heads from the front steps as they drove past, sniffing the air.

  The lane wrapped around a tri-level house, much of the front covered with oversized glass windows. Thick columns were stretched the length of it, supporting matching porches on each level.

  Eschewing the front entrance, Lenny followed the drive to a small ramp down to the lower level. A steel garage door rose as they approached, the van idling before pulling inside, the metal covering lowering itself back into place the moment they were parked.

  A small man in a white chef’s outfit emerged from the underbelly of the building as they arrived, a taller woman in a matching outfit at his side. Two security guards dressed entirely in black stood on either side of the truck and surveyed every movement as Lenny and Ingram climbed out.

  Neither one held a weapon in their hands as they did, though their stooped posture made it clear they were used to doing so.

  “Did you get my order change this morning?” the Chef asked in a worried voice.

  “Yes, Mr. Jinsen, we sure did. We were able to get our hands on some fresh lobster tails for you, as requested,” Lenny responded.

  A relieved smile spread across the man’s face as he glanced from Lenny to Ingram.

  “Thank you so much. Who is your new assistant?”

  Ingram bristled at the term assistant, but said nothing.

  “This is Mr. John Bingham, new employee with us,” Lenny said, extending a hand out wide.

  “Ah yes,” Jinsen replied, nodding as if he already knew who Ingram was, ”and this is Miss Kaitlin Esther, my new sous chef.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Lenny said as one of the guards gave a none-too-subtle cough. Picking up on the gesture, he pushed right ahead without waiting for a response from Esther. “Should we unload it in the same place as usual?”

  “Yes, of course,” Jinsen replied, waiting for both to grab an armload of supplies before leading them inside. He stayed with them through each trip, scrutinizing every item they presented and shaking his head at those that didn’t pass muster.

  Ingr
am’s original plan was to hide the access point in one of the cases of food, but it soon became apparent that the watchful eye of Jinsen would not allow it. He waited until the truck was almost unloaded before purposely falling back a few steps, letting the distance grow behind Lenny and Jinsen.

  Waiting for Esther, he managed to pull her to the side and whispered, “I’m very sorry, but is there a restroom I could use, please?”

  Her eyes grew a bit larger as she cast a glance in both directions. “It’s at the end of that hallway, but it’s supposed to be for staff only.”

  “Please,” Ingram pleaded, letting her see the concern on his face. “Lenny bought me a large iced coffee for my first day and now I’m paying for it. I’ll never make it clear back to the warehouse.”

  In response Esther bit her lip, clearly concerned by the request. After a long moment she nodded, the worry she felt at doing so obvious on her face. “Okay, but hurry. Last door on your right.”

  “Thank you so much,” Ingram said, taking off at a fast clip before she had a moment to reconsider.

  Moving in quick strides, he made it to the last door and ducked inside, shutting the door behind him. He gave the lock a quick twist before going to the toilet and removing the lid from the back reservoir.

  Extracting the relay from his cargo pants, he secured it to the underside of the lid with double-sided tape and dropped it back into place.

  Flushing the toilet once for effect, he was back on his way down the hall in less than a minute.

  He arrived back into the pantry just as Lenny and Jinsen reappeared, pretending to reposition the last box he had carried in. A bashful smile crossed his features as he turned to look at them, pushing out a puff of air for effect.

  “You don’t have to pretend,” Lenny boomed as he entered. “I know ya may have trouble keeping up right now, but you’ll get your feet under ya in no time!”

  Ingram smiled again and made a show of wiping his brow as they exited the house and piled back into the truck. There was a quick exchange of paperwork between the sides and just twenty minutes after arriving they were back on their way, headed south.