Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

After the detectives left we told Crash he was going to spend a few days in a house filled with women. Then we had a discussion about a replacement house, we had agreed to fix it up and now it was gone. We would replace without question.

Marcy with her ‘it has to be done right’ ethic had taken out insurance on the complete package as soon as we signed the papers. The house, the antique biplane and the turboprop were insured with full replacement value on the house. If Crash had insurance of his own the companies could argue it out.

The girls, Crash and I walked out in the yard behind where the jet tankers were parked. The towing company had unloaded the wrecked security car there. We were going to take a look at it in the daylight for the first time. It opened another learning and reinforcement discussion for us.

Three of the cars had been stopped straight in on the lane with a few feet between them. The other two angled blocking off the exit completely with the county and state cars behind them, all of them with their emergency lights on. The girls had paired up in between the cars as I had trained them to do; never do anything alone. There is safety in numbers.

Bruce was the driver when he accelerated instead of slowing down as he got close to the cars. They opened up at the engine as I told them to do. All five girls emptied the ten round clips into the front end of the pickup then moved behind the cars for safety and to reload.

The engine was dying and the pickup slowing when the two officers opened fire into the passenger compartment; 2 rounds out of 20 hit Bruce and Sam, luckily not life threatening. The pickup slid head-on into the car Vicky had been driving, parked in the center of the lane.

With the state police in charge of the scene they raced up to the burning house. Ching Lee was the first one there and had figured out that I was inside the house. With the fire extinguisher she had helped knock down the flames at the door with Tony so I could get out. We turned emotional – I should have known it would – after all we were women. Sometimes a few tears cleanse the soul. I was told in not so polite terms that I was never to run into a burning house again.

While we were in our discussion the fuel truck came to refill with Jet A from the tanker. Crash was over chatting with the driver and watching the operation. After the girls and I finished our emotional chat, we joined them.

I told Crash I wanted the duster flown to the Island Airport for safe keeping until we could get a temporary modular home set up for him to stay there. We could use the cover story that it needed maintenance. I asked when the biplane was flown last.

“Four or five years,” he said.

“I will have one of the mechanics look at it,” I replied.

We decided to get a gate company to install a heavy duty gate to seal the lane. In the meantime I would ask Tony to leave one of the trucks blocking the road each night.

We then went out to the farm to look at what was left of the house and see if there were any items that were salvageable. Jack – our best pilot and one of the mechanics – met us there.

There was nothing left of the house but ashes and the twisted things that were made of iron. I felt very bad for Crash. With my arm around him I told him how sorry I was. The only thing that had survived was the clothes he had on his back and the antique double barreled shotgun that for some reason I had carried out with him. It was still in the back seat of the car.

Robbie, Jack and Crash went to the shed to check out the planes. The girls and I went to the SUV Tony was using as the mobile office. Tony was plotting the information with the laptop as the crews were sending it to him. There was a runner with a 4 wheeler picking up and delivering it to him.

While we were talking the Thrush duster fired up. They had pushed it outside. Jack taxied it towards the small blacktop runway and did the run-up. With the run-up finished, down the runway it went and was in the air in just a few hundred feet – with no load in it.

Jack did a couple of dusting passes with a tight loop at the ends and just a few feet off the ground, across the field in front of us before heading to the Island Airport.

Robbie and Crash came walking towards us with an ear to ear grin.

“Jack said he could train anyone to dust if they had any balls,” Crash laughed.

“I think if we washed the dust off the Stearman and put fresh AV gas and a battery in it we could fly it to Island Airport. All the cables are tight and the control surfaces good and smooth. The engine turned over nicely with the prop,” Robbie said.

“That’s not my call. You two can make that decision,” I replied.

We needed to get back; tonight’s class would be there before long. I was not teaching tonight. I had too much skin that was just too tender to be grabbed or slid against.

I was sitting this one out. Vicky, Lorrie, Ching Lee and Marcy were going to administer the punishment tonight. I had not answered any of the e-mails unless they were urgent. I had hundreds to catch up on.

I had been working on those emails for three hours when there was a knock on my open door. I was surprised to see Hanna Page from the channel 34 news, without escort. She was wearing one of our gym issued shorts and tee shirts.

She noticed the expression on my face.

“I joined the gym – I have been losing the ratings race with Marley. My producer says I have been putting on weight and it shows up badly on the TV. I am friends with Marley off-camera; she suggested that I join and explained the rules. I wanted to promise you myself; what happens in the gym stays in the gym,” she said. Then she added, “I am glad to see you are OK from last night. That was one brave thing to do.”

“I need to go. Jenny is waiting on me to design a work-out routine. That was some entrance physical, better than my doctor’s,” she said.

I welcomed her to the gym and decided I needed a break, so I walked down with her. I went to the refreshment center and she went with Jenny to the treadmill.

Edit by Alfmeister

It was noon before we needed to be over to the gym. I had left a note for Patti that I would not be going to KCC today and also a voice message in Bob Jackson’s phone. “Just turn on the local news; that will explain it all.” The rest of the girls had done the same thing at the gym.

I had slept on the couch; the burnt hair smell was still strong, even after two washings. I did not think that anyone would be able to sleep with me nearby. There were areas of my neck that were burnt but I had no blisters, thanks to the aloe goop I had been coating myself with.

I called my hair dresser at 10. I needed an emergency cut or whatever ASAP as I explained what I had done. At 10:30 I was sitting in the chair with her looking at me, shaking her head.

“Do what you have to do – crew cut it if that is what it takes,” I said. One of the ladies who were waiting asked how I felt this morning “You looked bad on the TV news this morning.” Then she asked if Crash was OK.

“The text I received indicated he is being released before noon, and all considering, I’m OK,” I replied.

When Margie finished I had a short butch hair cut. After a wash with something special I could no longer smell the burnt hair.

The text messages had been coming in one after another while I was in the chair. Many of them were from friends inquiring about my condition. The most important one was from Jenny, “Investigation to start in the office meeting room at one. County and State detectives will be here. Cindy has left to pick up Crash. What are we going to do with him?”

“Good question, maybe he will stay with us in the extra bedroom for a day or two. Then move him over to the horsey house. It will take a while to replace his house, unless he will accept a big trailer or modular,” I sent back.

Kate and Tony were at one of the tables when I walked through the office, with a computer generated map of the farm. There were notes all over it.

“Jake says for you to be more careful or he is going to come kick your ass, among other things. I sent him the front page of the paper and this morning’s local news report, “Tony jokingly said.

“He was not able to take the retaliation for trying that over ten years ago. I know he can’t now,” I replied with a grin. Tony just laughed.

Pointing to the map, “These are the test holes they did yesterday. The codes by each one are the soil types at different levels. Janet has already identified where the groundwater runoff ponds need to be. By the end of today, we will have most of the information we need. There may be some really good news if the data works the way it looks. We just overlaid two runways for more ideas.”

“Right now, I can use all the good news I can get,” I replied as I walked towards the girls.

Jenny waved me into the main meeting room. “Crash and Cindy will be here in a few minutes; they just finished shopping for something to replace scrubs.”

“Everyone will be here in a less than 30 minutes. I have the meeting room set up,” Jenny said.

Jason had been standing with Jenny. I took the opportunity to explain the changes to the hiring requirements for the security division.

“Add a second language need to all field office personal, to be done by the end of the probationary period for new hires. For current employees, JBG to pay for approved education and or materials and as a requirement for promotion,” I explained. “We will develop a list of preferred languages at our next meeting,” I added.

The participants in the investigation were sent up as they arrived. They were people I had met before. Detective Sergeant Jim Spears and Detective Walter Brooks from the state police and Detective Carl Winters from the county sheriff’s department took seats at the table. They were the same officers that had responded to the Food King assault that was now a long distance memory.

They were sitting around the table with Jason, Jenny, Lorrie, Vicky, Ching Lee, Marcy, Crash, Roger and me.

“Just how did JBG end up out to Morton farm last night?” Spears asked.

“JGB has entered into several contracts with Mr. Morton. One of those involved a security contract, a contract to supply pilots for the crop dusting business and the farm,” I replied. “Mr. Morton called at 10:45 and reported someone outside messing around. Earlier in the day while we were out there surveying the property for improvements, Bruce and Samuel – his nephews – stopped in and harassed Mr. Morton about putting in beans.”

Roger interrupted to fill the detectives in on the past conflicts.

Detective Winters asked, “How did you know the two Morton boys were in the truck?”

“When the truck swerved out of the lane to avoid a collision, I saw that it was the same white truck with the bent up body behind the cab that someone had taken a sledge hammer and tried to straighten,” I replied. “It was the same one they were in earlier in the day when they threatened Crash.”

“Who gave the order to shoot at the truck?” Detective Brooks asked.

“I instructed the cars following me to block the roadway and stop the truck by shooting the engine if necessary. I also told them not to shoot into the passenger compartment,” I replied and then asked, “Who gave the order for the Deputy and the State police officer to shoot into the cab?”

Detective Spears responded to that with, “There were several mistakes last night – one of them was that the weapons were not collected that were fired at the scene. We need to collect them today for ballistic tests while we are here. The officers thought their lives were in danger, standard procedure.”

“My people have the same standing order,” I replied.

“Did you take both officers’ guns last night?” Jenny asked.

“No. As I said there were mistakes made,” Spears replied.

“A fired slug and shell casings for all the weapons we have, was submitted when we registered the guns with the state. If the state is unable locate them we have more certified in lockup,” Jenny said.

Then she asked, “What caliber were the slugs removed from the victims?”

“I believe nine millimeter,” Detective Winters said.

“There is your answer then. JBG, to simplify corporate wide supply, uses only 40 caliber handguns. I remember reading the state and county both use 9mm,” I replied.

“Ms. Coles has a state issued 9mm,” Detective Brooks replied.

“When I work for the State I carry the 9mm, when I work for JBG I carry the 40. I like the 40, better kick, penetrates better, kick’s ass. The 9mm is for pussies,” Jenny replied.

“Mr. Morton, can you tell us your side of this?” Detective Spears asked.

“BJ’s people had been out at the farm all day busting ass. Around eight the last one left, said he was the last one and would see me in the morning. Just before 11 I heard a lot of racket outside. I called BJ to see if any of her people had come back,” he said stopping to take a breath.

“She said that all her people were there and for me to lock the door; she was on the way. Bruce and Sam came through the door as I was hanging up the phone. Sam cold cocked me with a board. The next thing I remember was being dumped on the ground.”

“I need a list of everyone that fired a weapon last night and the serial number. If we need the slugs we can come back for them,” Detective Spears said.

“We will be in contact,” Detective Spears said as they stood to leave.

Edit by Alfmeister

“Crash, stay in the house and lock the door, we will be there in 10 minutes or less. I will beat on the door and yell when we get there, so do not shoot me,” I replied.

“LET’S GO, SECURITY CARS WITH LIGHTS, GRAB YOUR GUNS,” I yelled as I headed to the door.

Tony, Kathy and Janet were behind me. Each of the girls was using an unmarked security car with the police package and since the covered parking area had been finished, an assigned parking spot to make everything easier. Jenny used her state car for everything.

The up-fitters were doing all kinds of things to the cars; heaver shocks, approved high-speed tires and other performance enhancements. By the time we got to the split, we were in a convoy running well over a hundred with the lights on. The girls had listened well; we were strung out with enough stopping distance between us.

Jenny had hired the same drivers training company that the state used to give emergency driving course to all the security employees. I had insisted that all the girls take it. It turned out to be fun, especially when he took all of us to the local dirt track. It was some kind of slippery clay when wet, and they watered the hell out of it. It was great for learning skid control.

Before we arrived at the turnoff for Morton Farm Lane, a county sheriff and a state police car had joined in. I could just imagine the conversation going on over the radio frequency. “Who are these people? What agency are they from?”

I was ½ a mile ahead of the others when I made the turn onto Morton lane. It ran a mile in a hedge row before it made a right turn into the open 1300 acre field and then a mile to the house and buildings.

When I made the turn into the open field a set of headlights came on near the farmhouse and started moving this way. They were in a big hurry by the way they were bouncing in the rough lane.

Ten seconds later the farm house erupted in a fire ball. “They killed Crash or they are going to burn him alive,” I thought. I held it to the floor and steered as best as I could towards the house.

“Did you ever play chicken Tony?” I asked.

“NO NOT LIKE THIS,” he replied.

The gap closed fast. When we were about fifty yards apart, the pickup turned right and took to the field to miss us. The pickup was the same white pickup with the bent driver’s side body that the nephews had driven to the house today.

I keyed the mike on the radio to the cars that were just making the turn into the field. “STOP THAT TRUCK. SHOOT THE ENGINE OUT IF YOU HAVE TO. TRY NOT TO HIT THE PASSENGERS.”

There were headlights in my mirror moving in all directions while they were trying to set up a road block, everyone yelling all kinds of instructions on the radio. The girls had never practiced that; I wondered how it would work out.

As I pulled to a stop in front of the house, fire was all around the outside. “Tony, there is a fire extinguisher by your leg,” as I hit the button for the trunk.

On the advice of our EMT employees we had put 2 extinguishers in the cars; a 2 pound in the front and a 10 pound in the trunk.

“Tony, the door is the middle of the porch. Try to knock the fire down there,” I said as I headed to the trunk.

Tony had never used a fire extinguisher in an emergency. He knocked a little down but basically it was a waste. He was too far away and had the discharge nozzle everywhere but where it needed to be.

I ran as close as I could because of the heat. I smelled gasoline. In a way that was good because it burnt off quickly and then the fire diminished, leaving only what it had ignited. Burning Jet A or diesel started slow and just kept growing more intense.

I flooded the floor of the porch in front of and beside the door with ansul, knocking the fire down. I guess me running into the fire had given Tony some balls. He was beside me emptying what was left in the 2 pounder.

I stopped spraying when I thought the extinguisher was ½ empty. I shoved the extinguisher at Tony, yelling to be louder than the fire, “I’M GOING IN. SAVE THIS UNTIL I YELL THAT I AM COMING OUT THEN HIT BOTH SIDES OF THE PORCH BY THE DOOR. DO NOT SPRAY ME IN THE FACE WITH THAT CRAP.”

I ran up to the door while ducking flames. I had told Crash to lock the door and I would knock. I kicked the door hard a couple times then put everything I had into the next one. The door literally flew open and fell onto the floor. There was a big rush of air and heat and windows blew out as I rushed in yelling for Crash.

He was on the couch by the back wall. An old hammer shotgun lay open across his legs like he was trying to load it. There was blood on the side of his face. With the adrenaline rush I was under I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder like a sack. For some reason I picked up the shotgun. I turned to see the door was nothing but a wall of flames.

The heat was getting to me; I had to get out now or it was over. I yelled “I’M COMING OUT” and headed towards the door and flames.

Just seconds before I got to the flames they died down and I saw Tony and Ching Lee blasting both sides of the doorway with the powder. I ran past them and away from the porch before I fell to my knees.

As I dropped Crash to the ground he started coughing and cussing, “Those dad-blain nephews tried to kill me. They came in the door and knocked me out before I could lock it.”

There was some god-awful smell all around me, then I realized it was the smell of my singed hair, I wondered how much I had left. It didn’t matter; the only way to get rid of the smell was to cut it all off.

It was then that I noticed that there were people and fire trucks everywhere. They were dumping heavy amounts of water on what was left of Crash’s house. There would be nothing but ash by the time it was out.

In between the gagging and coughing I asked for water. I rinsed my mouth out several times and blew water out my nose to rinse the crap out of my sinuses.

The first medics arrived. Abby and Kristin – who worked part time in the gym – were in the county ambulance. They began to work on both of us.

“A close haircut, a lot of aloe and new clothes and you will be no worse for wear,” Kristin said. “The sunglasses protected your eyes.” I did not even remember putting them on.

I heard Tony talking to someone and realized it was the media, “She ran into the burning house and pulled him out!”

The girls had all assembled at the back of the ambulance. “We’re sorry BJ, both of them were shot. The Deputy and the State Police officer were shooting. We did not shoot for the cab. They rammed into us – one car is junk. The medics said they are going to live.”

The fire was finally out by the time the medics determined that I was OK. One of the Island fire officers that I knew stepped to the back of the ambulance. “You’re either the bravest person I know or the dumbest,” he said.

“Most likely the last one fits,” I replied.

“Do you have enough water left that you can rinse me off?” I asked him. I was grungy with soot and covered with ansul powder from the fire extinguishers and also stunk from the singed hair.

“Sure, but it will be cold,” he said.

“OK, I will be right out – set it up,” I replied

I asked Vicky to get my go-bag out of the car as I stripped off my rags and handed the hardware and phone to Jenny.

Six firemen made a circle to block the view as I washed off with the soap and a light spray from the fire hose. Wrapped in a towel, I made my way back to the ambulance to dress.

Crash was carried to the hospital for observation for the head wound. The two nephews were carried out by chopper. The crap was going to hit the fan tomorrow. It was 4 AM when we walked into the house. We were on the early morning news cycle again.

Edit by Alfmeister

The remaining nine of the first group were right on time; 4:00 on the dot. Vicky, Ching Lee and I put them through their paces. The first few minutes of any defensive training was spent repeating the final fifteen minutes of the last lesson to refresh their memory and to warm them up.

We worked out very hard for two hours then took a ten minute fluid break, both emptying and refilling. We repeated the process again for two more hours before I made them take a hi-calorie energy and fluid break.

It was during this break that the Jones and Jones crew made their way into the gym to leave their trucks and pick up the pool cars. They picked up the handout of the local cuisine that we gave to all visitors, with good directions and menus from those that were interested enough in business to leave some at the refreshment center.

Part of the Jones crew decided they would get food from the refreshment center and then watch the action in the gym, including the two ladies.

I gave the group an extra few minutes and worked with Albert. He was a fast learner but there were still a couple things he was having trouble with. The difficulties were from missing the first class.

Before we went back with the complete group I had to ask Ching Lee to back down a hair. She was trying to move her group along too quickly. There were certain moves and holds that they had to learn, no matter how long it took. Those holds and moves formed the foundation for the more advanced skills.

“These groups are not competing against one another. They are going to be competing one on one in a life and death battle with an unknown; we have to do this right,” I told her. “Pushing too hard too fast is only going to get them injured and out of the fight before it starts.”

“I did not look at it from that point of view. I understand, I have gotten carried away,” she replied. We continued the training until 10, and then called it a night.

The Jones engineers had watched for a while then disappeared to the upstairs offices, occasionally making a visit to the refreshment center. Sometimes during breaks they would ask a question about the training or about the Morton farm.

After the CIA group left at 10 and our shower, we made our way to the offices. Marcy, Lorrie and Jenny were already up there with Tony and Kathy.

“Nice setup you have here. The exterior of this building disguises your operations quite well. I bet everyone is surprised when they make their way up here,” Tony said.

Kathy added, “You have the top of the line CAD program. It will do everything we need to do and more! I thought we may have to make several trips to Philly but not any more.”

“Thanks for the invite to stay in the guest rooms. Marcy talked us into it,” Kathy added.

“The invitation was a pleasant surprise. I hate motel rooms,” Janet added.

Marcy pulled me aside and handed me several checks to look at. The first one was from the CIA general expense training account for 250 thousand. The memo line read – training for nineteen individuals, in special arts.

“Rodney said that we would be well compensated for our time; he sure was not kidding,” I replied.

The rest were checks from various colleges where we had already opened the security offices and payments for the office site construction that had been completed. Bob’s Construction and Bill Lamar were weeks ahead of schedule with the things they were working on for us. The total was almost three million. I was sure there were payments to those guys that would take half of it.

“The security accounts are looking very good now. I think that we are going to be pleased when it all comes together in September,” Marcy said.

Then she handed me another folder with a printout from Lorries Air charter division. All the flights with the Bombardier 200’s had been highlighted. Marcy had added the accounting sheet along with the reserved and scheduled flights for the next month and the ones that went out several months.

“Lorrie wants to keep both of them and I have to agree, they are making good money with lower cost. Lorrie wanted to talk to you first but you have been so busy and we are not going to bring things like that up during our personal time,” Marcy said. “We have to let the salesman know by the end of the week.”

“I don’t think you can handle that number of flights with just the one. To sublet them reduces the profit and runs the chance of another line picking up the business. Renting an aircraft for short term flights will lead to poor quality equipment and poor customer satisfaction,” I replied. Then I added, “What did Jenna say and how do the numbers look with the farm purchase as collateral?”

“She said we have more collateral than we need without adding the farm and she agrees with you on the need for the second plane, but the final decision is for you to make,” Marcy replied.

Marcy flipped the next page in the folder, “Here are the current numbers with the farm and plane, assets, outstanding loans, cash on hand and our credit limit. At the bottom is our available credit line.”

“Give Lorrie the good news,” I replied as my phone started ringing while we walked back to the table. For some reason I had hit speaker; it was Crash calling.

“Are any of your people out here at the farm? There is someone messing around,” Crash said. “I am going to shoot them if they are not yours.”

I looked at Tony. He was shaking his head no and then added, “None of ours; all of our equipment is here.”

Edit by Alfmeister

The vehicles slowed as they got to the house and then parked. There were more than a dozen. Men and a couple women exited the trucks, twisting and stretching from a long ride.

A man and a lady from the SUV that had led the procession walked over, “Hi, I’m Thomas Hammond, everybody calls me Tony. This is Katelyn Black and she likes Kathy; we are the chief engineers from Jones & Jones.”

“You’re BJ – I recognize you from your pictures we have in the office – I am so pleased to finally meet you. Jake was so proud of you – his office still has paper clippings and pictures of you all over the walls. We hope that he will get finished soon and return from Japan.”

Tony introduced all of the men with him and also the other lady as Janet Ashworthy – the Jones and Jones EPA approved ground water run off design engineer for site management and compliance.

“Bob said that you are interested in a runway and needed some guidance. We can help you with that; we have downloaded all the earth data charts for the area and have the test pattern ready to go,” he replied. He turned around, “Mark each bore with the GPS numbers on the charts you have. Let’s get started.”

“Bob implied that you have an office close by that we might be able to use to correlate the data,” Kathy added. “Are there any motels close by where we can spend the night? That would save six hours of traveling each day.”

Marcy called Holiday East to book the rooms on our corporate account. The horsey house was full up from the security training. She then gave Kathy the directions to the gym, told her that it was open 24/7, and there would be an access card at the desk for them to get into the office area.

Then she extended an invitation to Kathy and Janet to stay in the upstairs guest rooms instead of the motel if they liked and asked how many pool cars they would like to have for the men to use tonight; they could leave the trucks in the lot at the gym for security.

Jason left to file the papers with the County deeds and records department and then to attend a meeting at the office. We wanted them certified and registered immediately and the ownership changed today.

I needed to get back to the gym; the Tuesday night agency people would be back in a little while. I was sure Ching Lee and Vicky were ready to rumble. The only nights I was going to have off for the next four weeks were Saturday, Sunday and Monday and even then I still had classes Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

Another cloud of dust was coming down the lane. Just before the two trucks came to a stop in front of the house Crash muttered, “No good nephews – what do they want now? Bruce is the one in the front, the other one is Samuel.”

“Hello old man – what is all this going on here?” Bruce said with a tone in his voice.

“Having my runway repaired and thinking about putting in a irrigation well, it’s not really any of your business anyhow,” Crash said.

“You just as well stop right now. We think that wheat followed by soybeans go together as one crop – sort of a customary tandem crop,” Samuel said.

“You planted the wheat as a cover crop and you were paid to do that from the states Clean the Bay fund. By rule you were not to allow it to go to seed but you did because it looked so good,” Roger said and then added, “A phone call to bring the county Ag agent down here will settle that.”

“You are not going to scare us. All we have to do is refund the state payment and then we are going to plant beans,” Bruce said.

“You seem to be forgetting that you were served with legal notice that last year’s cover crop was the last crop you were to plant and a copy of that letter is on file with the county Ag department as negotiated by the Ag magistrate,” Roger said.

“Dad is going to appeal that ruling; we think the magistrate was in error,” Bruce replied. “You can save yourself legal fees and court costs by just letting us plant beans with the same agreement as last year.”

“Crash has made other deals and the contracts have been signed and recorded. If you show up with any equipment we will have it impounded. For the record you are now trespassing; if you step foot on the property again you will be arrested,” Roger said.

“This is not over, old man!” Samuel said as they drove away.

Jenny and I listened to the conversation. After they had left Jenny said, “They are full of it and the stink is going get all over them if they continue.”

“Jason just sent me a text that the property change has been recorded and the fees paid. The temporary new deed with the county stamp will be put on Jenny’s desk. The official deed will be sent in two weeks. He is on his way to the office,” I said

We shook hands and left. As we drove down the lane the ten bore machines were already drilling test holes. I wish I had the time to go and watch the process from beginning to end. Oh well, maybe another time.

I had just entered my office and was standing by the conference table getting an update from Cindy and Mark when my cell rang with a blocked number.

This time the conversation started off in Arabic, “You were right, Miles is a workman’s comp case. He came in at two all hobbled up and wanting to go to the hospital. The people he rode back with last night said he was fine; all joking and carrying on. Even I could tell he was faking,” Rodney said.

“I could tell that last night he would not be back. He did not like not being able to live up to his mouth. Then he started trying to short-cut to make up for it and got himself hurt,” I said.

“Is there still time to put someone in his place?” Rodney asked.

“He should be here tonight and tomorrow night and needs to be a fast learner. That way he would only be one class behind and we can make up for that,” I replied.

“Albert Hawkins will be there in an hour. Don’t be afraid to put him through the wringer, if he washes out he washes out. Stay strong and be free,” with that the phone went dead.

Edit by Alfmeister

I met my group at the end of Morton Farm Lane. All the girls along with Jenna, Jason and Norman Pyle – the construction estimator for Bob’s Construction – were waiting for me.

When I made the turn off the highway, I knew why the name Crash Morgan sounded familiar to me. Years ago, long before I went into the Marines, Jake had just gotten his drivers license. The only way that Mom and Dad would let him and Crystal go out in the car was if I was with them. They were using me as chaperone, figuring that nothing would happen if I was along. Of course I had to have Betty and later Samantha go along to keep me company.

Little did they know the group of us together was trouble! We had been playing sex games for over a year before Jake received his license. We had some wild times together in the front and back seat of Jake’s car.

There was a lane off 301 that we used to go parking on. That lane was on the west end of the Morton farm and was used by farm trucks in the spring and fall. It was also used to carry water and fuel to the crop dusters. The rest of the time it was not used and grown up with weeds and grass. We used it for fun two or three nights a week until the state – in one of it drainage improvement programs – dug up the tile and left a big ditch.

We met Crash and Roger in front of the house. Crash, Norman, Jenna and Marcy inspected the interior and exterior of the house generating a list of repairs that met Crash’s expectations.

Jenny, Lorrie and I sat on the porch with Roger and discussed the list of questions the corporate lawyers had checked off. All of them were small stuff – to me they were nothing – but I guess that is why they get paid to cross all the tee’s and dot all the eyes.

After the house tour was completed we made our way to the big shed Crash used as his airplane hanger. In one side there was a Stearman biplane modified for crop dusting. Crash explained it was a 1939 model he bought as army surplus in 1946 and had it modified in Ohio. It was dusty and dirty but looked ready to fly.

“This is the plane I want in the terminal as a display,” Crash said.

With my help, Norman took all the measurements so a place could be engineered into the plans for the terminal for the plane. Then we made our way to the other side of the shed. There was Crash’s newer crop duster.

I could tell Crash was proud of it; he stood a little straighter, his voice stronger. “This is a Thrush 550p turbo prop with a Pratt and Whitney engine. The spray hopper holds 550 gallons or the seeder holds 74 cubic feet of seed and can climb 750 ft a minute and only needs 1050 feet to take off fully loaded,” he said.

“You do understand we need a 6000 foot runway, and 7000 would be better,” I said.

Lorrie interrupted with, “We have two pilots that have done crop dusting and with a turbo prop would do it again,” she said.

“Yep I knew it would take a long one. If you angle it from corner to corner of the property you can have one over 10000 feet and straight on, a little over 8000,” he said.

Norman worked in the prices for the house repairs. The rest of us loaded into the back of Jason’s pickup and Crash showed us where the property markers were. Roger and Jeanna each took a rocker on the porch and waited for our return.

I noticed that even though it was 1400 acres there were only two ditches, and for the most part the land was fairly level. It did not have the hills and low bottoms like some of the other farms in the area had. The wheat had been cut and all that was left was stubble. I made a comment to Crash about that.

“No good nephews baled the wheat straw and sold it to make sure they got the last nickel off my land that they could,” he said.

Crash directed Jason to where the blacktop strip was that he used for a runway; it was 20 feet wide and a thousand feet long. The blacktop had been deteriorating for years; it was cracked and broken and had grass up through it in places.

When we got back to the porch Norman was sitting with Roger and Jeanna as we joined them.

“Well Norman, did you come up with a price?” I asked.

“Yes Ma-am, I did. Replace the linoleum flooring in the kitchen, with new sink and spigots, new carpet in the living room, and completely gut the master bath. Install a new tub and tile the walls and floor, vanities, flush and cabinets. Replace all the windows with triple pane energy efficient; replace both entrance doors with steel and double pane. Replace all the carpet and paint all the rooms. Replace that old oil furnace with a new propane one and clean all the duct work or replace as needed. Replace the guttering and down spouts. Replace the front walk; it is cracked and broken – a trip hazard – totals $63,500.00.

“That is a lot more fixing than I had in mind,” Crash said.

“If we are going to fix it we are going to do it right,” Marcy said.

“How soon can you start?” I asked.

“While you were gone I took measurements of everything. I will place the order tomorrow; it usually takes about two weeks, then we can get started,” Norman said.

“Do you need us to sign anything?” I replied.

“No Ma-am, boss said your word was better than all the gold in Fort Knox. I will get started as soon as I get back,” as he stood to leave.

“I have a check for the remainder,” Marcy said. “And the forms for the insurance for the both of you.”

“I have a bill of sale and deeds ready,” Roger said. “All we need is a notary.”

“I have my stamp with me,” Jason added.

Two hours later we were finishing up the paper work, crossing the tees and dotting the eyes as the lawyers wanted. A cloud of dust was coming up driveway; there must have been a dozen vehicles making it.

Edit by Alfmeister

We all had a busy day planned. Jenny was going to Annapolis to chair the Governors Criminal Task Force meeting. Jason was going to go through the Crash Morton files with a fine tooth comb and then discretely check to see if all the exemptions were still in effect. I had left early to go to KCC and was only going to work half a day.

Ching Lee and Vicky were doing training of my new security people today. Marcy and Lorrie were working the numbers on the Crash airport. We had a 12:00 meeting to look over the property and see what kind of shape his house was in.

I had the blowups of the property plots and photographs. I sent Bozman a text that I wanted to see him when he had a chance. Then I started on the daily routine only to be interrupted by a visiting delegation from an international Asian education group.

I could easily see that Bob Jackson was not at his best. His guests were a mix of Japanese, South Koreans and Taiwanese. I was surprised that they were having so much trouble communicating. They were all carrying those little translation dictionary’s.

They must have been from the rural areas of those countries – in most of the cities English was almost a mandatory second language. I wondered where their escort and translator were; groups like these always had one.

As if reading my mind Bob said, “Their host is very hung over in my office; there was too much sampling of Kentucky whiskey and mixed drinks last night, from what I was able to understand.

An elderly lady in her early sixties and a younger lady were trying to get something across to Bob. She was flipping through the pages in the little book like crazy.

I asked in Japanese if I could help her. Her eyes flew wide and she threw the little book in the air as she stepped in front of me.

“Back there, outside, we just walked by a meditation area. There were these delicate white flowers.” She was doing little designs with her fingers. “I want to know what they are.”

The meditation area – as she called it – was a flower garden with several concrete benches to rest and relax on. Of course some of the students found other uses because of the privacy the taller flowers and trellises offered. The activity broke the boredom when reviewing security tapes.

“They are called Queen Anne’s Lace. They are a wild flower found over much of the East and Southern United States. The roots are edible and high in sugar, the flower can be French fried or used in a salad. Poison hemlock, fool’s parsley and water hemlocks are all poisonous cousins of Queen Anne’s Lace,” I replied in my best Japanese.

I answered questions for ½ an hour before Bob’s secretary, leading the tour host, found the group. I found out that she was from a small village south west of Tokyo – the same village as Master Chu Tuc, the BDSM master that I had trained under for awhile when I was stationed in Japan.

I asked if she knew of Master Chu Tuc, if he was still alive and how his health was.

She responded first with an astonished and surprised look and then one of steel as she said, “Everyone in village knows of the master. His health is failing. He sits in the sun every afternoon wrapped in a light blanket. He is out every day when I come home from teaching.”

“How do you know the master?” she asked.

“I was a student of his several years ago. We used to exchange letters and small gifts. It has been a while since I had any response from him; I thought he must have passed on,” I replied. Then I asked if she would deliver a note to him.

I wrote a simple note to him with my phone number, asking him to call me if he was able, and gave it to her.

When I had finished with the group and they had left me, Bozman entered to ask what I needed. I directed him to the table where I had placed out the property plots and pictures.

“Thirteen hundred and forty acres – nice farm – but don’t you think you have enough to do without getting into farming?” he asked.
I sort of laughed then I explained the property and the deal to go with it. Then I asked if he knew someone that could give me a ballpark price on a runway.

“There is more to it than just a price and you know the best: Jones & Jones,” he replied.

“Jake told me two years ago that when they finished the project they were working on, he was going close the US operations down. That was just before you came to work for KCC,” I replied.

“Jake is like you, he hired the best people he could and treated them well. Those that could not go to Japan for the clean-up contract were to finish up Samson Gap Bridge, which they did two months ahead of schedule and then find other jobs as the company was finished. The contract had a million dollar a month bonus for early completion,” he said.

“Jake let them use the 2 million as operating capitol to continue the construction company for as long as possible. When the operating capitol ran out they were done. The state of Pa. gave them another contract – this time it was the New Hope Road and tunnel project outside of Philadelphia,” he said.

It was finished 5 months ahead of schedule a month ago; gained them another bonus and they have another project to start in January. All the equipment is in the process of transportation to the yard until late December, and then goes to Oxford County to build a Mountain Bridge and dual highway extension.

“The engineers are bidding on every small job they can find to keep the crew busy,” he said then continued.

“I will call the engineers; they can bring all the bore test and equipment to give you a real picture of cost and what to expect. They will be excited to do the work for you. Jake had your pictures and accomplishments all over the office walls as part of his family. I have their number in my office,” he said as he turned and walked out with the address and directions.

I had three more hours before I had to leave to meet Marcy and Lorrie at Morton Farm Lane.

Edit by Alfmeister

I had not let Marcy or any of the others say anything. I handed the planning and zoning packet to Jenny for her to check out and research, Jason was to be in later; he could help and fill in the pieces. I also instructed her to send copies to our corporate attorneys to do a rush review.

Looking at Marcy I said, “Check the financial end out; if we do not have enough on hand, please take 200k out of my escrow account and place a draw on my savings. Then check with Jenna to see how much line of credit we have left and how much we would have if we put the 1300 acres up as collateral. It may take 10 years before the airport comes together but there is no way we can let the land go by.”

“I will talk to the pilots to see if anyone knows anything about crop dusting,” Lorrie replied.

There were several property plots with the current dilapidated runway and other farm features highlighted, along with several aerial photographs. I asked for them to be blown up to blueprint size and that I wanted to take them with me to KCC in the morning for Richard Bozman to take a look at.

We had an early meeting then an early supper. I wanted to be ready to go when tonight’s class of ten arrived. They were in for a long night and tougher than the group last night. Vicky and Lorrie were going to help and that would move things along.

Marcy had temporally assigned Diane Smoot as an administrator to the security department for six weeks, since I was going to be tied up for the next four weeks. That would take us to the middle of August when all the colleges had to be fully staffed and fully operational. Diane had been helping Cindy on an as needed clerk.

The training had become a full time job for my security group. The North six were doing computer training when they were on the island. We had decided that when they were in the field setting up the offices they were to be associate directors.

There had been some resistance with the Warrington and Tri County groups being bossed by the young girls but it evaporated quickly after the video from Rochester was shown.

We had sent it out to a company that specialized in enhancement. It was now clear as a bell and looked to be happening ten feet in front of you. It was easy to see when Janice broke her fingers. We even included Janice’s police statement as the opening statement before the video started. The final quieting effect was when they were dragging their ass off the mats after facing one of the six.

All the nonmilitary people started on the mats with the North six. All the ex-military worked with Ty, Kathryn, Herman, Ching Lee or me. The North six also taught the computer training with Cindy or Mark. We were going to miss those girls dearly when Sly and Janice started college in the fall and senior high for the others. All of them still wanted to work part time and still be in Lisa’s tutoring class.

At four the second group of 10 from the agency arrived. I knew Ty, Kathryn and Herman were away on a mission. I knew not where but they would be back on Friday to help with the next group of college security people.

One group was leaving in a Bombardier with the North six driving the unmarked cars, some of the class were driving marked cars, and Mark and Cindy taking the truckload of office equipment. The Bombardier was returning with the part-time group for training.

Next weekend was 4th of July weekend. The offices would be closed the gym was accessible by membership ID card for any members who wanted to work out. We were all going shopping with Jenny after a big cookout.

Ching Lee, Vicky and I put the ten through their paces. One of the group was a smart-ass know it all. He spent an hour and a half in the med room on the table with our in-house medic treating him. After that the other nine were on their toes and listened to what they were told.

As part of the protocol I thought it was necessary that I call Rodney to inform him that one of his people had been hurt. I had to leave a message; I guess no one at that level ever answers the phone.

The ten were packing their things to head back to DC when he returned my call. I knew it was him because the call came in blocked. I answered and was listening to Russian. I knew nothing of the Russian language.

I had German and French in high school and was good in both of them. I had learned Japanese and Korean, from my duty there, and Arabic from being stationed in Iraq. There was nothing I hated worse than having people talking around me and not understanding a word they were saying. I went out of my way to learn the language wherever I was stationed.

I think that is one of the reasons that Americans resent the immigrants of today so much. In the 1800’s the immigrants truly wanted to be part of America and the better life it promised. They came expecting to work hard and blend in.

One of the first things they did was learn the language and customs of America. They taught their children their native language in their home but sent them to public school to learn to be an American and the American way and they were proud to hold the American flag.

Today the first thing they do is sign up for all the freebies they can, then walk through the malls in groups laughing, pointing and mocking the people whose hard work and taxes pay for all the freebies.

Then they demand that classes in the local school be held in their native language. A group was even caught replacing the American flag with their native flags on the Christmas Parade route this year.

To add insult to injury a group of immigrants has filed a complaint against the local food bank because Islamic suitable foods are not available. The goods in the local food bank come from local food drives and food donations at local churches. They are the can goods and foods the local people eat.

Their attorney is demanding that the food bank exchange donated food for ethnic foods for them. They ask for understanding for their plight but they refuse to even acknowledge traditional American values or principals – it seems to be give me, give me, I deserve it. The ones that have been here awhile and are prospering refuse or won’t even help the new arrivals.

I responded to the Russian with German and we carried on the conversation in German. I explained to him as best as I could while searching my memory for the right words.

“Miles Cottingham is hard headed along with being an asshole. He would not go on any mission I was in charge of because I do not believe he could follow mission specific orders and would jeopardize the team,” I said then added, “I agreed to train them and I will continue to do so without holding back for a few but I will not be held responsible for injuries for students failing to follow detailed instructions.”

Rodney continued in German, “I appreciate you being candid about your observations. Do you think he can recover in time to be a part of this mission?”

“With the right physical therapy, aggressive injections, attitude and mental determination the answer would be yes, he would be here Friday watching just to learn and on floor with them Sunday. I would be willing to bet he will be a workman’s comp case tomorrow,” I replied in German as I was struggling for the words.

“I will let you know tomorrow,” as the phone went dead.

The conversations in the different languages made me realize maybe I had made a mistake in not requiring that more of our security people have a second language or getting to know a second language prior to the end of their probationary period.

The confused look’s I was getting from the girls as Rodney and I were having the conversation was a comedy in itself. Diversity in languages was another topic for our afternoon meetings.

Edit by Alfmeister

I had planned on only two training classes in a week, but throwing in six extra was going to play havoc with scheduling. I had planned on having enough time to help with setting up the next four colleges, but that was out now.

That task was now up to Cindy, Mark, Jason and Roseanne with help from Marcie, Vicky and Jenny. The work from my part of the business was getting dumped on the other members again and I felt bad about it. The hired help were getting paid to do it but for Marcy, Vicky, Jenny and Ching Lee, each already had their own part of the business assigned to them to run.

Ching Lee and I were in the hot tub discussing tonight’s events before heading over to the house. The others had left earlier. We had a good laugh about my rant at Rodney in Arabic. She still wanted to know what I had said to the first guy on the mat. I went through the translation one word at a time for her. “No wonder you scared the pants off him,” she replied.

Vicky was still awake as I slid into bed next to her. We both slept soundly until the clock started Wednesday and the routine started all over again.

The day was quiet at KCC and I was glad of it. I left early to get a head start on the class of geeks tonight. I had just settled into my chair when Kristina ran into my office.

“There are two old men downstairs that want to see you and Lorrie. They asked for the big boss and boss over the airplanes. They look like the god father and his lawyer. I never saw a briefcase so big or so old. You don’t think he has a machine gun in it, do you?” she asked.

“You have to stop watching those old gangster movies Kristina, you’re going to have nightmares,” I said. “Al Capone, Bugsy and the gang along with Jimmy Hoffa are all dead. The mafia was not big in this area,” I added.

“Go bring them up, use the elevator if they are that old. You can stay in here with us if you want to see an old fashion gangster shoot out, I have my piece in the drawer,” I said laughingly as I called Lorrie, Marcy and Jenny to my office.

Kristina held the door for the two gentlemen. She was right about old – they both had to be in their eighties. She was also right about the briefcase; I had only seen one like that and it was in the silent movies.

Kristina first introduced Lorrie, Jenny, Marcy and then me as we shook their hands. Then she said. “I’m sorry, I did not catch your names,” as she looked at the two men.

“That’s because we did not give them to you, young lady,” he said.

“This is Roger Dalton, my attorney and I am Craig C. Morton. All my old friends who have since died they used to joke that the C. was for crash. They called me Crash most of the time.” he said.

“What can I do for you Crash?” I asked. I knew that name sounded familiar but I could not place why or where.

“I have been watching you go round with the county, looks like it’s a Mexican standoff for a while. I had a round 50 years ago when they started this planning and zoning thing. They thought they were all big shots from the city, going to ram it down our throats,” he said.

“They tried to put me out of business but old Roger here won the case and old Judge Roscoe did not like them either, gave me all kinds of permanent easements and grandfather clauses on my farm forever, with a catch or two,” he said.

“I own a farm on the 301 about 3 miles from where the Justice boy tried to kill you – closer on the Qtown side – it’s a mile and a half square, almost 1300 acres,” he took a big breath to continue.

“I was a pilot in the big war. I came home just in time to bury Dad; Mom had passed a few years before. I inherited the farm but loved flying. I started a crop dusting business. I had the old Damble boy from Ctown put me down a strip of blacktop for a runway – one of the first around. He was a B17 pilot and started a construction business; that was his first attempt at putting down blacktop.”

“A few years later they put in the zoning mess and tried to close down my crop dusting. Said it was not farming, that the farm was zoned agriculture only and they were not going to change it. That’s when Roger and Bill Roscoe put them in their place.”

“The catch is the crop dusting has to be carried on for all the easements and clauses to remain in effect. One of the clauses says that the owner can do anything necessary to carry on the crop dusting and spraying and the county has to be hands off,” Crash said.

Roger interrupted with, “The words are: All aviation activities are exempt from all county rules and regulation and permitting process on the property.”

“My wife Elizabeth died 20 years ago, and my son who was taking over, died 7 years ago in a car accident. I have been hiring a young pilot to do the dusting. The dang fool knocked up a 15 year old and I think they took off to Arizona last week.”

“My brother Sam is all the kin I have left. His two boys have been tilling the farm. They have been stealing me blind. They think I cannot count how many truckloads of grain leave the field. I am supposed to get half; I am not even getting a quarter.

They are so conniving and greedy, they cannot wait for me to die – they even tried to have me committed last fall to get the farm. They keep throwing it in my face every time I see them. Roger put an end to that for now. The wheat harvest was their last and they finished that yesterday.”

“There are some things I want and I think you and I can help each other out. I can help you beat the county and you can help me keep my brother’s asshole kids or the state from getting the farm and keep my love of flying going on the property. So here they are.”

(1) “I want 1.3 million, that’s a thousand dollars an acre. The going rate for farm land is 8 thousand an acre. I don’t need the money – I can’t take it with me and I want this deal to work. Any bank will loan you the money without question.”

(2) “My old house needs a little fixing here and there. Nothing fancy, I just haven’t been able to do it myself. You have to fix it up.”

(3) “You have someone come in, clean the house and do the dishes and clothes once a week until I die. That little young thing that kept coming in the lobby wearing nothing would do just fine. I could daydream about my younger days just watching her work.”

“I see you met Wendy. She is going to start college soon so she won’t be available, but I think we can find someone in a little French maid outfit to do the job,” I replied

“French maid, that will work,” he said.

(4) “I want a full deal health plan. Not Obama care, Medicare, the real deal and when I get too old to get around you supply a full time nurse and or a house keeper. You don’t put me on any life support when Peter calls – just let me go join Elizabeth.”

(5) “You make it a full fledged private airport, fix the runway and build a terminal building. I have the first plane I ever owned in a shed; it is the first bi-plane duster there was on the shore. Make the terminal building big enough to put the antique plane in it as a display.”

(6) “You name it Morton Airfield and the terminal, Elizabeth Morton terminal,” he said. “Remember, you have to have someone that can do crop dusting and the second part of the season starts at the end of July. I have one of the new style turbo-prop dusters that the kid used.”

(7) “I want to be buried by Elizabeth – her resting place is between the house and the hanger, plain old pine box with a simple cedar cross.”

(8) “You hire Roger as a consultant or something and give him medical as well. He knows all the little things about the county dealings,” he said.

“It sounds like you have thought this deal pretty well through. It will take a few days to work through all the details,” I replied.

Roger opened the antique briefcase and placed several folders on the table, “Here is a copy of the farm deed and a copy of all the planning and county court orders. Here is the agreement as he described. You better sign the letter of intent and give him a token deposit. He is not a spring chicken any more,” Roger said.

“What time after lunch tomorrow can we look over the place?” I asked. Then I added, “Would 100 thousand be enough for a deposit?”

“Noon would be fine. That would be great. Turn on Morton Farm lane and follow it back. We will be there waiting.”

Marcy wrote out the check.

Edit by alfmeister

I needed to spend several hours today at KCC for a building update and a meeting with the board of directors. A new Suburban for KCC was still several weeks away. In fact the insurance company was dragging its feet coming to an agreement on the value, along with a suit against the Jeff Justice Insurance company.

I was using one of the unmarked Jones security cars that KCC was now leasing until the Suburban came in. I noticed a tractor trailer and a utility truck were at the gym on the side of the building with the loading dock, just as I was leaving the driveway – so I went to check it out.

Our forklift was struggling, carrying pieces inside the building. Inside, crates were being opened by the night Fed workout group. When I saw what they had been opening inside the gym I knew why the Feds were helping.

The day before all the Rochester and airport commotion Vicky and Ching Lee had ordered a large climbing wall. They were finally getting popular in the area. One of the big sporting goods stores had one on the western shore and several gym regulars had asked about one.

With the 30 foot clearance below the girders in the gym, Vicky had ordered two of the 25 foot models with the attached controlled descent safety devices for when you fell. The units could be climbed on both sides. That made for four different levels of expertise.

They came with a complete set of fall harnesses for use with 50 pound kids to 300 pound football players, along with helmets and a set of mats to cover the floor completely around it.

The agency guys had been talking about modifications they could add to it for use after midnight to help with wall scaling and rappelling training on some of their missions. They had taken one of the sale pamphlets with them to their rig shop. I was sure that some morning the girls would come in to find ropes and attachments on pulleys fastened to the beams.

The manufacture’s installer was drilling holes in the concrete for the anchors to fasten the walls to the floor. I was satisfied with the goings on and left for the college. I assumed that by the time I finished my meetings and returned it would be assembled and in various stages of testing.

Patti had piled my desk full of paper that I needed to deal with today. Most of it came from the pile that had accumulated on her desk in her week absence. It was going to be a longer day than I thought.

It was nearly three when I finally made it back to the gym. I had an hour and a half before Ching Lee and I were to meet the first of Rodney Stokes’ group. I wondered what kind of mission they were training for that they thought they needed the kind of close-in hand to hand combat that had been my specialty.

As soon as I went through the door into the gym I could hear the commotion from the back of the gym. The rock climbing wall was obviously a big hit; there was a large crowd. From where I was standing I watched Ching Lee reach the top and ring a buzzer before rappelling to the floor to much cheering from below. With a glance around I could see the gym was busy.

If she had done much of that today, she would never hold up to tonight’s training session with Rodney’s pros. I expected it to be a tough one and they were early. Rodney and his group were walking in the door behind me.

I corralled Ching Lee so we could change. We met the men out at the mats to get started. The men were smaller than I thought they would be. For some reason I was expecting they would be six foot six and 225. Only a couple of these guys were taller than I was at 5 foot 10, but they did have a weight advantage over me and a lot more over Ching Lee, but I doubted that any of them were over 200.

We were both going to need all the speed and finesse we could muster to not get our asses whipped tonight. After a talk on the mats in which they reveled nothing about any mission, I was still in the dark with what they wanted other than they wanted to wear the padding.

If they did, I knew damn well Ching Lee and I were going to as well. It took another half hour to get them all fitted in the padding. Even with that, they had to wear tight gym tee shirts to hold the body armor tight. I didn’t say anything but was glad because the body armor takes time to get used to and restricted their movement. Ching Lee and I had used ours so much it had become like a second skin to us and some advantage at least for a couple nights.

After I gave all of them the rubber training knife we used, I pointed to one and said, “On the mat; you are my first victim.” We stood ten feet apart.

Without knowing anything, I could only assume they were going to some Middle Eastern country for a snatch and grab.

As best as I could remember, I shouted in Arabic, “You swine, I am going to gut you and hang your head on a hook.” I then charged him in the fashion that Arab fighters normally did to show their bravery.

We were now less than six feet apart – with his eyes big as saucers – he tried to turn and run. You cannot, from a standing position, turn and run from someone that is ten feet away running full out – and get away. I was on him before his turn was complete. I pulled him down on the mat, put the rubber knife to his throat and said, “You are dead.”

I immediately knew these were not field ops people; they were technicians. Wherever they were going, they were going to sabotage, hack, or bug something. They were not fighting their way in or out; someone else was going to do that. Rodney simply wanted them to be better than other technicians if they met them, otherwise they were expendable. A cleanup crew would take care of the mess afterwards.

“Ok we have a lot of work to do and now I know where to begin,” I said. I looked around to see relief in nine other faces and Rodney behind them doing his best not to laugh out loud.

Everything else in the gym had come to a halt and everyone was looking at us. My shout in Arabic had everyone’s attention.

I gave Rodney the dickens, including a few choice four letter words in Arabic for not telling me these people were novices. I figured that no-one else in the gym could understand and I would bet he could as I was walking towards him.

Expecting experienced personal, I had put on camo fatigues instead of gym shorts and put some real goodies in the pockets, including the serrated k-bar strapped to my leg. It was the same one I had carried in the sand box.

I pulled the k-bar from its sheath as I continued moving towards him, and was berating him with the Arabic onslaught. I was amazed that I remembered so much of it from so long ago, “I should remove your manhood for that.” The nine that were standing in front of him scattered like a flock of birds in all directions as the sight of the k-bar further reinforced that they were novices.

Rodney started waving his arms, “Ok, Ok they said you are good, I just wanted to see how good! You know what you have to work with. You have 4 weeks to work them in shape. I am working on the other part of the plan; this part is up to you.” With that he walked out the door.

Ching Lee took four and I took the other five and started with the basics, but not before she asked, “What the heck did you say to him?” It was going to be a long night and four weeks. It was midnight before I finished with them.

I changed the schedule. There was another ten coming Thursday night. Both groups were going to need more than once a week. Each group was going to be here two nights and one on Saturday and another one on Sunday. That would give them twenty four sessions in the four weeks and a real chance to survive whatever they were getting into. DHS and the CIA would just have to pay the bill. None of the nine objected to the change; they would be back tomorrow night and Saturday.

Edit by Alfmeister