Thirty-Five
Doc Khamenei was not amused. The riot that him and his team were not able to do anything about, did not help the situation. In fact, they’d gotten hurt worse. Khamenei, not that it was his real name, had gotten burned by a molotov. The NSA should have been listening to the chatter on social media, but he suspected that what had started out on one platform had moved to an encrypted messaging service like Signal.
In all, half the camp had escaped and the majority of the staff there, conscripted or not, were injured in some manner. The lid was off, and the genie was out of the bottle. Hundreds of protestors from the outside had shown up with cell phones and GoPros, and had live streamed it. Unknown to Khamenei and the group at the farm, the public was starting to wise up to the media suppression.
His work in the area was almost done. He’d been sent into a problem area to fix a sticky situation and things had spiraled out of control completely. He didn’t have proof that the farm was involved in the mass escape and riot, but he suspected. For one, that little spitfire Angelica had escaped without a trace, and had showed up days later back at the farm. It was way too far for her to have walked, and although he knew somebody could have picked her up, or she had hitchhiked, he doubted it.
The depression in the earth and the discarded camo netting had all but proven it to him. Somebody, probably Robert Little, had laid in waiting. He’d timed everybody’s comings and goings, and taken advantage of the protest to get Angelica out. It made him seethe. He’d botched jobs, but this one now had the eyeballs of Washington looking right at him. He’d been put on loan to the USDA for a couple of specific outcomes, and none of them had happened.
The agents in the county where the Langtry farm operated were afraid to lose their jobs, and the redistribution of supplies and people had slowed or stopped altogether. The tar and feathering of agents had sent a chilling message. Khamenei had wished they had been sworn to silence and the failure was one of the reasons he'd killed Kendricks. For his failure, for embarrassing them, and because he’d been ordered to.
His new orders weren’t a surprise. They were an extension of his old orders: fix the situation. There wasn’t an ‘or else’ specified, but his contact had mentioned him getting a little long in the tooth and perhaps being retired. Khamenei knew that being retired didn’t mean he’d be able to get fruity drinks with umbrellas in them in a tropical paradise, it meant one day he’d wake up with a gun in his face when he was least expecting it.
He briefly thought about flying to Washington and retiring his handler, but only for a second. That’d be stupid. The military industrial complex and the shadow government that the president called ‘The Deep State’ had more reach than the United States Government, and far fewer scruples. So, he’d scrapped that idea, and had returned to the west side of the state to the mobile center where some of the agents who could be trusted were talking to drone controllers and getting up to date intel.
Rob had to go, but he really needed to wipe out the entire group. The two large dogs weren’t a concern, some poisoned meat or a suppressed .22 usually did the job. It was all about shot placement. The part that worried Khamenei was that the group had been putting up more and more sensors. The other large worry was that Governor Tom Christian had made his escape. He was supposed to have been dead, but the powers that be had wanted him alive to be used as leverage against his aide.
His assistant had ended up winning the day after all. She was good with computers the way Jordan or Kobe was good with basketball. Before the agents had even come into the office and arrested her, she’d set up a digital time lock on a massive file and sent it out into the world. Since it was set up on a torrent and the key to the lock would be released in a week, his back was up against a wall. Nobody knew what she had uploaded in the big data file, but that wasn’t his worry, it was the technoweenies. They were going to try everything from blackmail to drug induced interrogation techniques on her. Khamenei had briefly offered up his services for a more active interrogation, but again had decided against it. His ass was already on the line.
The same voice that had once pulled ADA Winters’ strings during the special prosecutor’s investigation was now pulling his. Again.
Jeff Daniels had just stepped out of the shower. He had a date later on with Kerry and wanted to look good. He’d scraped the days whiskers off again, and splashed some water on his face to rinse the lather off. As he was toweling off his hair for the second time his cell phone rang, his personal phone. He looked at it and saw the Fort Smith area come up in the caller ID, but it was a different number. He only knew a few guys he golfed with from high school who lived up there, and this number wasn’t one of them.
“Hello?”
“Officer Daniels, this is the guy who gave you a tip about Agent Kendricks, do you remember me?”
“I do, but your voice changer sounds different. How do I know this is really you?”
“I told you when and where he would be, then I showed up with his team. I was one of the agents there who was tarred and feathered.”
That got Daniels’ attention.
“You’re still not telling me anything that couldn’t have been pieced together by what happened in public.”
“You remember the lady agent? Hispanic or Indian mixed heritage? She looked a lot different with the heavy gear off.”
“And when she got down to her underwear and tank top…”
“You caught me looking and rolled your eyes.”
“Tommy, Thompson...”
“Thomas,” the voice on the line said, then there was a rustling, and the voice changer was removed because his voice came out normal. “I need you to believe me now.”
“What’s going on?” Daniel’s asked him, knowing the agent was potentially blowing his cover because he was pretty sure his phone was being listened in on by the feds.
“Doctor Khamenei,” Thomas said quietly.
“Isn’t that the dude who set up the kidnapping?” Jeff asked him, knowing from what he’d heard from the group and Kerry that the answer was most likely yes.
“Yes, and it was his team that was responsible for the sheriff’s murder.”
“We need to meet,” Daniels said, jumping as his front doorbell began ringing suddenly.
He needed a pen and paper. He tore off into the kitchen and pulled out his junk drawer and got one of the spare notepads and pens he kept there.
“We’re going to have to. I’m going to need protection and—” The rest was drowned out by the sound of the doorbell.
“Hold on, I couldn’t hear you, give me half a second.”
Daniels ran to the front door and pulled it open. Kerry stood there, a quizzical look on her face as he motioned her inside and took off running for the kitchen again. He got back to his pad of paper and started writing as Thomas started talking.
Kerry came inside and closed the front door and then put her back against it and watched. Jeff was on a phone call. He looked worried and was writing frantically. She thought about taking her phone out and taking a picture and then discarded the idea. He was obviously having a moment and she didn’t want to cheapen whatever was going on by ruining it, so she stood by the front door and kept still, watching, waiting. Jeff asked the caller to repeat what he’d just said and then started writing. Then he gave out his home address, something she knew he rarely did, ever. He assured whoever was calling that he would be able to pull it off and then hung up. He looked at his phone a second, then the notepad, then tossed the phone and started pacing.
Kerry knew it was a serious moment for him, but she couldn’t help giggling. Jeff saw her and startled like he’d forgotten she was there, and walked quickly over to her.
“We have to get ahold of the farm. Other than that call, the rest of this needs to be handled on a face-to-face basis.”
“Ok, I can head there right now,” Kerry told him.
“I’ll go with you. I just need to find my keys,” Daniels said, turning back to the
counter.
“I think you’re forgetting something, Hun,” Kerry drawled, still amused despite the severity of the situation, it was just too rich for her not to mention it.
“What?” Jeff asked, turning to her.
“Um… How are you going to protect and serve without any clothes on?”
Jeff looked down, then back up at Kerry, his eyes going wide. She dropped him a wink. He fled to the bedroom, cursing a blue streak.
Thirty-Six
Rob was working with the dogs and teaching Andrea and Leah the commands he used. They had seen it and used some of it, but he was making sure the dogs knew to follow them if the gave the command, no matter who was at the farm. Ranger was always happy when he saw the bite sleeve come out, but Roscoe was falling asleep sitting up, holding the command. He was the kind of dog that needed more treats to be coaxed into doing anything, but when the chips had been down, his instincts had saved Anna’s life.
“Heel up,” Leah called in a deeper than normal tone.
Both dogs stood quickly and fell in line with her. “Follow,” Leah said and started walking towards Rob and Andrea. The dogs ran on either side of her, half a step ahead so they could watch for more commands. Rob had taught both to follow both verbal and nonverbal commands. Rob wanted to make sure both dogs would follow the commands of all of the folks who lived there.
“Good, now make them guard,” Rob said, moving away from Andrea.
“Sit, guard, stay, guard,” Leah said.
Rob grinned as she pointed to the spot next to Andrea. Leah didn’t have to use that many commands with the pups, but she was getting used to them. When Leah had first met Roscoe, the big dog had scared her. Now, she knew both dogs to both be fearless protectors, and was having a lot of fun.
“When are you going to really show us what Ranger can do?” Andrea asked.
Both ladies had been curious. The night before, Angelica had gotten a little tipsy and leaked that the big furball could do a whole lot more than they had seen.
“I don’t know. I hear Anna banging away at steel targets at the range. Want to see if we can set up some of the dummies?”
Anna had several life-sized human torso targets that they had jokingly dressed up in all black. She had fake wooden guns for the targets to hold.
“I’d love to see a demonstration,” Leah said. “Is Roscoe trained that way, too?”
“No, and I’m not sure he’d ever have enough words to learn it, but I’m going to try. With Ranger around, he might pick it up. I’m not sure how smart that dog is.”
Roscoe barked and shoulder checked Rob, who stumbled. The girls started laughing at the big dog’s antics. Rob spun and was about to give the command for him to sit when Roscoe lifted his leg. Rob was able to dance back. He hadn’t expected the two hundred plus pound dog to push him. Roscoe danced on three legs, trying to aim a stream at Rob’s leg, but Rob finally found his voice.
“Heel up, damned dog,” he growled.
Roscoe shook himself, as if he wasn’t done, then put all four legs on the ground and ran to his side of Rob and sat. Roscoe let his tongue hang out in a doggy grin.
“Kerry for Rob, over?”
They all heard it over their radios. The last time Kerry had come out they had given her one of the encrypted radios to use while in range.
“Rob here. Where you at?” he asked.
“Front gate.”
Rob walked towards the equipment barn and hit the gate open button and then headed towards the big house. His mother or Luis or Harry would be there watching the monitors. If they didn’t close the gates behind her, he’d do it. After the previous night’s party, they had all gotten off lightly, except for Anna. Goldie still held a grudge.
“The big house?” Steven asked.
“I think so,” Curt responded.
“Be there in a jiff.” Bailey’s voice came over the radio.
Rob mentally shrugged. Having Kerry come over unannounced usually meant she had something to say. As he got to the big house, he saw that Curt, Steve and Dante were all leaning against the porch. They were kitted up from their workout earlier. Rob had told them that jogging without equipment on was better than nothing, but working out in their gear could make the difference between running out of air at a critical moment, and having enough endurance to make it in a combat situation.
Leah and Andrea made it there just as Kerry drove up. Both dogs recognized her car, but Ranger’s tail was wagging so fast he was making a pattern in the dirt driveway underneath where he was sitting. Kerry got out, followed by Jeff. Both had grim expressions on their faces.
“Hey folks, let’s charge up our electronics,” Rob said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and putting it on the railing. Then he unclipped his radio and unhooked everything, placing the radio next to his phone.
“Yeah, stupid electronics die too fast,” Curt said, catching on.
They all walked in mostly silence to the workshop. Once inside, the guys grabbed two picnic tables and headed to the small room where the lift was hidden. They closed the second door, hoping that the metal room inside a room wasn’t bugged. They figured any other type of electronic surveillance would be useless inside of here.
“What’s going on?” Steven asked Kerry.
“You know how I got a phone call warning that there was going to be an attack on the farm? It’s happening again.”
“What?” the cacophony of voices and shouts almost drowned out Kerry’s words. She held her hands up and the noise stopped.
“Honestly, I’m not feeling awesome right here. Can we go someplace… cooler? Wouldn’t that be even more difficult to overhear the conversation?”
Rob looked at the owners. Half were nodding and the rest were shrugging.
“Watch your feet,” Rob muttered, then pushed one of the tables against the back wall.
Daniels looked down, noting that the metal ramps the table had been set on had a seam about six feet across in a square. Everyone got back. Rob pressed the button on the wall then jumped in the middle. Half of the owners did as well.
“It’ll take us two trips,” Rob called up.
Daniels’ mouth dropped open in surprise. Kerry put her arm through his and waited. Bailey just stood there looking amazed.
“I’ve heard about this place, but I haven’t seen it yet,” she explained.
“Welcome to fight club,” Kerry whispered to her.
“First rule of fight club is nobody talks about fight club,” Daniels said, his throat suddenly dry.
Daniels explained the phone call more than a few times. They all listened and asked questions.
“...but on a local level, even a state level, I can only do so much. If we don’t know where he is or how to even start, we’re working blind.”
“We’ve got some new friends that could help,” Bailey suggested. “Maybe those special agents could get a GPS trace on him.”
“We’d have to know his phone number, and he probably uses burner phones the way regular folks change their britches,” Anna piped up.
“Maybe not,” Andrea said. “We sorta know where the FDA and Homeland were working out of roughly, and if Thomas knew this much, he probably knows his digits.”
Bailey was nodding along. Understanding dawned on everybody’s faces. They were grinning and nodding.
“How well does the state police cooperate with the FBI now a days?” Leah asked Jeff.
“Um… quite well actually,” he stammered.
Thomas, or Malin Thomas as his mother named him, was hiding out. He’d met Jeff at his house and had promptly been dropped off on the way to the farm to Jeff’s family’s old homestead. Nobody lived there now, and the forty acres that Jeff had owned still was leased out to another farmer. The barn was still his, as was the storm shelter underneath it.
As far as storm shelters went, this one was not glamorous. The rocks had been hand-mortared in place. It was dark, musty, and spiders were running all over the place. He’d found the plas
tic bins Jeff had told him about, and gotten the battery powered LED lantern out. Once that was lighting the place, he attacked the cobwebs and spiders with a broom. Then he cleaned up. He’d found the mattresses in more or less good shape. They had been zipped into thick plastic covers to keep the dust, must and mice out of them. He’d seen no evidence of mice thankfully, and went ahead and set up the bed frame and mattress and put his bag on that.
“I hope this was worth it,” Malin said softly.
Malin was part of a group called the Oath Keepers, and had been becoming more and more alarmed at the lawless power grab that the government, as well as his fellow officers, were enjoying. Arresting people for not wearing a mask. Making up rules as they went, claiming they were part of the emergency powers act. A pandemic had given everybody with a thirst for power the opportunity to flex and try to grab more.
He’d known Homeland was closing in on the mole in its ranks. He’d known it because he was on the short list of people it could be. He’d been warned by others who took their Oaths seriously. He’d planned on bugging out somewhere, when he’d literally stumbled upon the information that Doc Khamenei was on the move again. He’d used his burner phone to take a picture of the orders, and sent them up the chain of command like he’d been doing all along. Asset is moving into base of operations. Check. Then he started digging.
What he’d told and shared with Daniels had proved that Khamenei wasn’t a US citizen, but he was connected with the CIA. He’d been an agent of theirs off and on for decades. He was wanted in many middle eastern countries for supposed war crimes, for his part in helping one regime overthrow another for money, oil, and power. Interpol wanted to talk to him about some bombings that they had originally blamed on the IRA back in the day, and lastly, the Aussies had been looking for him for something Malin couldn’t figure out.
Behind The Curve-The Farm | Book 3 | The Farm Page 23