Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Summer Breeze (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Jesse Jacobson

  “Who are you?” Rose asked.

  The woman stood, “I’m Special Agent Julie Love,” she said. “We spoke on the phone a few days ago.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Lenkov tried to kill you, remember?” Love replied. “He would have succeeded too, if Red Feather hadn’t gotten to you when he did. His military emergency training came in handy. He stuck his fingers down your throat and made you vomit up the pills. When I arrived, you had vomit all over you. It was quite the mess, I have to tell you.”

  “Oh . . . gross,” Rose said.

  Love nodded, “Yeah, this was not the beautiful rescue you read about in romance novels, that’s for sure. You looked like you’d just been gang-banged by a pack of Silverback apes.”

  “Shrewdness,” Rose replied.

  “What?”

  “It’s not a pack of gorilla’s. It’s a ‘shrewdness’ of gorillas.”

  “Well. . . . someone went to college,” Love replied. “Of course, that big brain almost got you killed. What part of ‘stay put, don’t make a move,’ did you not understand?”

  Rose looked a little closer at Love. She obviously worked hard to maintain a shapely figure and, as such, liked to advertise it a little.

  “I needed my laptop for work,” Rose replied.

  “Well, fortunately for you, we were going to make our move on Lenkov that day anyway.”

  “What do you mean ‘that day?” Rose asked. “How long have I been here?”

  “They’ve had you in a medically induced coma for three days, while they were cleansing your system,” Love said. “It was touch and go for a bit, even with Red Feather’s heroics, but you pulled through like a champ. The fact that we caught him in the act of trying to kill you actually helped us quite a bit. So, from that perspective, thank you.”

  “Did Lenkov confess?” Rose asked.

  “Oh, hell no,” Love replied. “The guy is like a politician—deny, deny, deny. However, we offered his pet gorilla McCoy a deal and he started singing like a bird.”

  “You’re mixing your metaphors,” Rose said. “Gorilla . . . bird.”

  “Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “He told us everything, including how Lenkov killed your grandfather with aconite in his tea. He also admitted to running Sheriff Ford off the road on Lenkov’s order. We’ll still need your statement, just as soon as you’re able. Vlade Lenkov is sixty-years old now. He’ll never walk out of prison, you can rest assured.”

  “What about Deputy Tilden?” Rose asked.

  “He tried to cop a plea, but the ADA was a friend of Sheriff Ford. He is in no mood for deals,” Love said. “I don’t envy Tilden. Do you have any idea how crooked law enforcement officers get treated in prison?”

  I don’t think I want to know,” Rose replied. “Where’s Red Feather?”

  “He’ll be back soon,” Love said. “The man was at your side morning, noon and night, until a couple of hours ago. Now, you wake up. It’s ironic. Hey, are you two . . . you know? An item?”

  “Why do you ask?” Rose wondered.

  “He’s hot as hell. My panties were getting moist just interviewing the guy. I was going to take a run at him if . . .”

  “He’s taken,” Rose insisted.

  “I get it,” Love replied.

  “Where is he, now?” Rose asked.

  “He’s meeting with Mr. C.H. Paulson.”

  “The CEO of Mission Mining?”

  “The one and only,” Love confirmed. “Like I told you earlier, Paulson was a puppet CEO. In our preliminary investigation, it does appear that Lenkov was acting on the orders of a few members of the board who have Russian mob ties. We’ve arrested those men already. The media is having a field day. The story made CNN and Fox right away. I think Paulson will be cleared, though. He had no idea what was going on. He’s stupid as hell, but fortunately for him, stupid isn’t illegal. The guy was like a mushroom.”

  “A mushroom?”

  “Yeah, you know, keep him in the dark—bury him in shit.”

  “Why is Red Feather talking to Paulson?” Rose asked.

  She shook her head, “No idea. You can ask him yourself, later. He said he’d be back before going in for more questioning—him and Yellow Wolf both.”

  “Questioning? Why?”

  Red Feather killed one of Lenkov’s men with a knife. Yellow Wolf shot another man. Both were acting in self-defense. Yellow Wolf got shot in the shoulder but he’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll be cleared, but it might take a little while. You know how that red-tape shit goes. I hear you’re a pretty damn good lawyer. They both need one.”

  “Rose?” a familiar voice called out.

  Red Feather was standing at the door. He had pulled the curtain back. Rose smiled when she saw him. Red Feather was dressed in tight jeans and a blue jean shirt, unbutton to the center of his chest. His hair looked freshly shampooed and combed out, flowing well below his shoulders.

  Red Feather rushed to Rose, bending over her and kissing her. Rose wrapped her arms around him, awkwardly, somewhat restricted by the IV line. They embraced and kiss for the longest time.

  “No, please,” Love mocked, noting the level of electricity rising in the room. “Don’t beg me to stay.”

  “Thanks for hanging with her until I got back,” Red Feather asked, finally breaking off the kiss.

  “Just don’t be late to the courthouse,” Love said, gathering her things. “The interview with my boss starts at four o’clock. Don’t worry. I’ve prepped him. It should be cut and dried.”

  Love left. Red Feather leaned over and planted another warm kiss on Rose’s lips.

  “I was so worried about you,” he said.

  “Thank you for coming for me,” Rose replied. She took his hand and placed it on the center of her chest. “Agent Love tells me I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

  “I should be mad at you for running off like that,” Red Feather said.

  “I know,” she replied. “I was stupid. I’m sorry.”

  He kissed her again, “I’m just glad you’re going to be ok.”

  “Agent Love tells me you were meeting with the CEO of Mission Mining,” Rose said. “What did he want to talk to you about?”

  “Actually, when I heard that he had nothing to do with Lenkov’s actions, I went to him,” Red Feather said.

  Rose looked confused, “You went to him? Why?”

  “Well, it occurred to me that Mission Mining was going to take a huge public relation’s hit, with Lenkov and a few of their board members getting arrested. Murder, conspiracy . . . it would all make for a great documentary. I could see a whole episode on 60 Minutes devoted to it.”

  “I’m not following you,” Rose said.

  “It just occurred to me that the CEO of Mission Mining might be interested in an opportunity to get ahead of all the bad publicity. Bad publicity could cost them millions and millions in lost revenue, lower stock prices. So, I proposed an idea to him.”

  “You proposed an idea without discussing it with me first?” Rose asked.

  “I did, but C.H. Paulson understands that you were in a coma,” Red Feather replied. “He knows full well that you were not aware that I was coming to him with a proposal. However, I think you will like it, and the good news is, Paulson loves the idea.”

  “Tell me what it is,” Rose said, trying to sit up.

  “I know that your job and your life is in Chicago,” Red Feather began. “I also know that you intended to sell Summer Breeze Ranch but would not sell it to a Mining Company because of the ecological impact on the reservation and because you knew your grandfather would never sell to them either.”

  “Ok,” Rose said, nodding a bit. “I follow you, but the last I heard Mission Mining is a coal company.”

  “A coal company with deep pockets,” Red Feather added. “What I proposed to them is for them to offer to buy Summer Breeze Ranch for the original proposed price . . .”

  “No! Are you crazy?” Rose in
terrupted. “I’m not selling to a coal . . .”

  “Hear me out,” Red Feather insisted. “I proposed they buy Summer Breeze Ranch and donate the property to the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation as a gesture of goodwill after all the problems their company’s representatives caused. They could then tell the media the criminals in their organization have been expelled and that they respect the Cheyenne’s desire to not have their rivers polluted.”

  “Holy shit, Red,” Rose exclaimed. “That’s genius.”

  “That’s not all,” Red Feather said. “I read where the EPA was asking for coal companies to consider investing in clean water research to assist with the cleanup of coal ash that has already occurred. C.H. Paulson has agreed to begin a foundation for that research. He plans to get ahead of that to help further offset the negative publicity. The foundation would be located on the res and employ Cheyenne labor.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Rose said, “but why would they agree to all that? Won’t it cost a fortune?”

  “In 2015, Duke Energy was fined a hundred and two million dollars for violations of the Clean Water Act,” Red Feather said. “They were also put on a restrictive probation for five years. It cut their profits in half. Buying Summer Breeze and building a clean water foundation would cost a fraction of that.”

  “It’s brilliant,” Rose said.

  Red Feather shrugged, “Paulson loved the idea. The money would go to you and you could pay off Eli’s debts and your student loans, whatever you need. The reservation gets the land which will assure that their rivers would never be poisoned by the ash and chemical waste from coal mining. Mission Mining uses the donation as a platform for a public relations campaign to repair the damage to its reputation. It’s called win-win-win. Now you can go back to Chicago, debt free and continue the life you started.”

  The smile disappeared from Rose’s face. Continue her life in Chicago, Red Feather had said. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  ______________________

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ______________________

  (One week later)

  It had been a busy and productive week for Rose. Her boss at the firm, Matt Miller, had changed his tune when he learned the nature of Rose’s ‘complications’ in Montana and had convinced the firm’s partners to welcome her back with open arms.

  Rose finally was able to make funeral arrangements for her grandfather. It was a lovely ceremony attended by a small group of people who knew and loved him.

  She had broken up with Michael Bennett on the phone. Under normal circumstances she would have never dreamed of breaking up with a boyfriend via a telephone conversation, but this was Michael Bennett we were talking about. Such a call would seem quite normal to him, and in fact, it did.

  Her former client, Harden, the landlord accused of being responsible for the injury of a child, settled out of court. The family received two million dollars. His new lawyer convinced him he had no chance of winning a civil case. Immediately after handing over a certified check to the child’s family, Harden was arrested by the police for several counts of fraud regarding the violation of multiple building codes.

  Rose agreed to sell Summer Breeze Ranch to Mission Mining when they drew up the appropriate paperwork to donate the land to the Northern Cheyenne Nation. In honor of such an incredible gift of four thousand prime acres of land, the Tribal Council unanimously voted to name the new, unincorporated land ‘Summer Territory,’ and promised to later name the new town proposed to be developed, ‘Summerville.’

  She had sat down with the accountant and made all the preparations to pay her grandfather’s debts. With what remained, Rose could still pay off her student loans, her car, the balance of her condo mortgage and still have a tidy sum for a rainy day.

  All seemed perfect with one exception—Red Feather.

  Red Feather and Rose had continued their torrid relationship. Their lovemaking sizzled and grew more passionate and intimate by the day. She felt their hearts and souls were merging, forming a single bond.

  Yet, neither one of them discussed the future. For Red Feather, he’d decided to enjoy the time they had together and see what the future held. Would he consider moving to Chicago to be with her? He didn’t know. She hadn’t asked him, for one thing. For another, he didn’t know what he’d do there. His life, as simple and as humble as it may be, was here in Montana, on the res, with his people.

  For Rose, her considerations were more complex.

  At four o’clock, she met with her attorney, the Mission Mining attorney and the attorney representing the tribal council to complete the transaction and transfer of the property.

  Besides the attorneys, also present were Rose herself, C.H Paulson and Lawrence Lonebear, President of the Northern Cheyenne Tribal Council.

  The meeting was held at the offices of Plankton, Pride and Redding, LLC, a law firm in Billings. After a five-minute meet and greet, all parties sat down to conclude the deal.

  “I assume you have had the opportunity to review all the documents, Mr. Plankton?” asked Gerald Marx, the lead attorney representing Mission Mining.

  “I have,” Rose’s attorney, Paul Plankton, replied. “We find everything to be in order.” Plankton turned to his right, “Does everything meet with your approval as well, Mr. Lonebear?”

  Lonebear looked at his attorney, who nodded. Lonebear looked back at Plankton and gave a cursory nod of approval.

  “Well, then, all we need now is for Rose Summer to sign the purchase-sale agreement and our business here is concluded,” Plankton said. “Mr. Marx, you brought the certified cashier’s check with you?”

  Marx nodded.

  “Good then,” Plankton replied. He pushed the thick document in front of Rose and handed her a pen.

  She turned to the last page and found the signature line. She paused, as if in deep reflection. Five seconds went by, then ten, then fifteen.

  “Ms. Summer, is everything all right?” Plankton asked.

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  She placed her pen on the signature line, and again paused for several seconds.

  “Ms. Summer, is there a problem,” Marx, the Mission Mining attorney asked.

  “Just give her a moment,” Plankton insisted.

  Rose placed the pen back on the table, “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I have an amendment to this deal before we can finalize.”

  A collective moan could be heard from the people in the room.

  “Ms. Summer, if you want more money,” Marx began, “I can assure you we will not be forth . . .”

  “Mr. Plankton, can you explain?” Lonebear asked.

  “I am unaware of any amendment,” Plankton replied. “Rose?”

  “I don’t want more money,” Rose said. “I wish to retain the house on Summer Breeze Ranch and a plot of two hundred and fifty acres surrounding the house, including access to the highway and water rights to the river.”

  “This is outrageous, Ms. Summer,” Marx bellowed. “We will have to reduce our purchase price . . .”

  C.H. Paulson raised his hand, which caused his attorney to go silent, “We agree to purchase the remaining land as is, without the house and without the two-hundred and fifty acres adjacent to it. Our purchase price remains the same.”

  Marx gave Paulson a foul look but remained silent and sat.

  Paulson turned to Lonebear. Lonebear’s attorney stood, “We agreed to a donation of four thousand acres of land, not three thousand, seven hundred and fifty, and . . .”

  “Shut up, nephew,” Lonebear barked. “Don’t be an idiot. This land is a gift.”

  He turned to Paulson, “Yes, we accept.”

  He smiled at Rose, “And on behalf of the people of the Northern Cheyenne Reservation, we humbly thank you, Ms. Summer, and you, Mr. Paulson, for your amazing generosity.”

  Plankton stood, “Since the purchase price has not changed, it will be a small matter to alter the purchase-sale agreement. I suggest we take a thir
ty-minute break while I make the appropriate changes and reprint the agreement. Ms. Summer, before I make these changes, will there be anything else?”

  Rose smiled and shook her head, “Nothing further.”

  “Thank you, Rose,” Plankton said. “Gentlemen, there’s coffee and Danish just outside. Unless there is an objection we will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

  An hour later Rose met Red Feather on the bottom floor of the building. Yellow Wolf had been keeping him company.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Rose asked.

  “I’m going to be fine,” Yellow Wolf replied. “Thanks for paying my medical bills.”

  “It was the least I could do,” she said. “Thank you for helping my man save me.”

  “That was the least I could do,” he said. He turned to Red Feather. “Ok, man. I’m out. Got work to do.”

  Red Feather embraced his friend, “Thank you for everything.”

  Yellow Wolf smiled and left.

  “Is it done?” Red Feather asked Rose.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Red Feather looked down, “I guess you’ll be heading back to Chicago, then.”

  “Yes, tomorrow at eleven in the morning,” she replied.

  Red Feather’s expression took on a look of shock and disappointment.

  “Tomorrow?” he replied. “So soon?”

  “Yes, I have to get all my affairs in order,” she said. “I need to turn in my notice at work, put my condo up for sale . . .”

  “What? Do what?” he asked.

  “Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you,” she said. “I altered the agreement. I sold most of the land and it was donated to the res as planned, but I kept the house and some land around it.”

  “You kept Summer Breeze?” he asked. “Why?”

  “I’m coming back to live here,” she said.

  “Are you serious?” Red Feather said, a hint of a smile forming on his face.

  “I grew up here,” she said. “This was my home. I’ll have a good chunk of money left over, especially now that I’m selling the condo in Chicago. I’m thinking about raising horses.”