 
Ricky and Jake, Love of Money, Root of Evil

By: Steven Baradine

This ebook is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real locales are used factiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locals or persona, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Steven Baradine, Author

Copyright 2012 Sayco Enterprises, Inc.

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1

As far as the dog days of summer are concerned, members of the canine family have the only sensible solution. Dig a hole, in the cool earth under a porch, and take a nap. On this particular Thursday afternoon in late August, Atlanta was steaming hot, as sultry as it gets. High temperatures on summer afternoons are common for Atlanta, but sultry afternoons in August are even more common. Sultry, when referring to the weather, is a descriptive word almost exclusively heard in the south. It describes the full range of misery, created by humidity, that is way above average, combined with excessively high heat.

The main terminal activity at Hartsfield-Jackson airport that afternoon had its usual busy traffic. Richard Russell had never become accustomed to the heat and humidity in Atlanta during his two and a half years there. He particularly disliked the days when the humidity was as high as it was that day. Moving in and out of air conditioning did not help much. But, it was better than nothing. He looked forward to the flight, since the air conditioning on commercial airliners usually worked quite well at thirty thousand feet. Headed for Dulles Airport, just west of Washington, D.C., the weather may hot and humid there, but he was certain that it wouldn't be anything like the current conditions in Atlanta.

Ricky, as his friends called him, had just boarded a flight heading northbound. Soon the big plane rolled along the runway with its engines powered up for takeoff. The rumbling noise of the wheels bumping along the uneven runway picked up pace as speed increased, until finally, the plane lifted off the ground. The whine of the jet engines continued, only slightly being interrupted by the sound of the retracting landing gear. Passenger air vents seemed to hiss more loudly now, as the aircraft gained altitude. As the plane leveled off, a much quieter ride prevailed. In an hour or so, Ricky would be in Virginia.

Settling in his seat, Ricky looked in the seat pocket in front of him for something to read, and found a paperback book left by a previous passenger. It was entitled "Family Burdens, Life's Lessons." Sitting by the window, he moved the book closer to the light, and began to read the first chapter. This novel told of the struggles of a young girl, in her teens, whose life was miserable due to constant problems with her parents. The problems in her life, were all caused by her parents, and not by her. Her mother, who abused drugs prescribed by various doctors, had emotional battles within her, which were manifested by several different personalities emerging at different times. The father worked to balance his career, along with trying to manage the household, and of course, the issues regarding his wife. As a result of the turmoil at home, the teen's life was miserable. This girl was an only child, suffering alone in this situation. She began to believe that the type of life in which she lived, was normal. She tried not to compare the situations that existed for her to other families, and intentionally dismissed the fact that her family was terribly dysfunctional.

After reading for a while, Ricky rested the book in his lap. He turned to gaze out of the window as he recalled his own childhood. His life had been very similar to the girl's in the novel. Growing up had been a struggle. As he remembered some of those times, which brought sadness to his thoughts, a tear began to roll down Ricky's face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He had no idea that the man in the seat next to him was watching him.

"You OK, brother?" a quiet, but deep voice asked of him.

Startled, Ricky replied, "Yea, I'm OK, just thinking about things a long time ago, when I was a teenager."

"They say it's not good to live in the past," the man responded.

"Yes I know, it won't change things, the things that have already happened. I shouldn't look back. It is hard to forget some things though."

"By the way, I'm Jake Lawson," said the man, extending his hand.

"And I'm Richard Russell, nice to meet you," said Richard, returning the handshake.

Richard noticed that Jake's hand was big and solid, his grip and handshake were firm. Jake was rather handsome with short sandy hair, dark green eyes and a rugged face. Richard figured him for the athletic type. He always tried to analyze people by their looks, but this guy was unusual to say the least. With a very big frame, at least two hundred thirty pounds or so, Richard guessed him to be about his age, in his mid thirties.

"He looks like a wrestler," Richard thought.

"Where are you headed Richard?"

"Call me Ricky, that's my nickname. I have a meeting with my boss in our Washington, D.C. office about a move to the northern Virginia area. I don't particularly want to leave Atlanta, but since I broke up with my girlfriend several months ago, there is nothing much to keep me there. I am loaner right now," explained Ricky.

"Oh, I see," Jake replied, "I wouldn't worry about finding another girlfriend if I were you. I sometimes think they grow on trees, and they are just ripe for the picking." A smile from Jake this time appeared to indicate his attempt to lighten the moment.

"So you work out of Atlanta, Jake?" Ricky asked, trying to find out more information.

"No, I actually work out of D.C., but I travel all the time. Since I retired from the Navy, I work for a consulting firm up there. With my previous background in the Navy, they use me for to work with some of the folks over at the Pentagon, or other military related places."

"Sounds like your life is all about the military," said Ricky, smiling.

"Well, I was a Navy brat, so to speak, I grew up with military all around, all the time," explained Jake.

Jake still curious about Ricky's early troubled life, changed the subject.

"I hope you are going to cheer up a bit. I'm sorry about your past. Were there big problems that you had at home or something?"

"Well, everything was always upsetting in my house when I was young. My father was a Methodist minister. We moved all over the western part of Virginia. My father was assigned to mainly country churches, and we would have to move about every two years."

"That must have been tough trying to adjust to all those new schools," Jake added.

"Yea, and the kids were all the same. They would gang up on the new kid, me of course, in every school I attended. I heard a lot of crap about being a preacher's son too. It took me a while to make friends and by the time I felt like things were going well, we would up and move again."

"What a bummer," Jake said, "I am sure that your parents were supportive and helped you handle things though?"

"Not really, my mother had very severe mental problems, and eventually wound up in a nursing home. She was on heavy medication until her death, about six years ago. My father died three years before that, of congestive heart failure, as a result of a prior heart attack."

"Man, you are making me depressed now. I am sorry that your parents are gone. Sounds like you might have had a rough time of it."

"I thought living like that was normal for a long time. When I moved from home and started working, I realized that there was a different world out there. My mother was diagnosed as a paranoid psychotic, along with the multiple personalities. Things just kept getting worse through the years, there never seemed to be any help for her. At the end, she was delusional most of the time."

"How did you cope with that, for crying out loud?"

"I did better than my dad. He really had a struggle with her."

The entire time that Ricky had been talking, Jake's mind was working overtime. He figured Ricky to be a businessman, and someone who had never been associated with any sports in school. Ricky did not appear to have ever worked with his hands. He lacked any noticeable muscular development. With a medium build at five feet eleven, Jake guessed Ricky's weight to be about one hundred sixty five pounds. With dark brown hair, cut short like Jake's, Ricky had big brown eyes, and was a fairly handsome man. He was certainly no athlete though.

As the trip progressed, the conversation gradually changed to other topics. Jake decided that he really didn't want to continue to listen to Ricky's awful home life. Other than what each man had already gleaned from the other, not much additional information was revealed. From that point on, the talk was light, about nothing important, really. It was just talk.

The dialog between the two continued for a while. Realizing that he had already talked too much, Ricky was glad to see that the probing from Jake was over. He had learned a long time ago not to come forth with too much personal information to strangers. He had been taken advantage of on occasion from exposing his personality, or background, to those he didn't quite know. In addition to that, his recent job training had taught him that his work was strictly confidential to the point of secrecy. There were to be no discussions about it with anyone. But as far as this conversation was concerned, Ricky thought, it was just idle chit chat and it did make the trip a little more enjoyable.

The plane touched down on time at Dulles at 5:15pm. Ricky gathered his briefcase and began the slow walk out of the plane in the customary single line. He finally reached the door to the gangway with Jake following right behind him. Both men exited out into the terminal.

"You staying in D.C., or out here in the sticks?" Jake asked, as they walked out of the terminal.

"In D.C.," was the reply, "Near my home office."

"Well, I'm going to K Street area, do you need a lift?"

"Yes, my hotel is on L Street and my boss' office is on K. That would be great. Otherwise, I would have to rent a car, and not knowing the traffic, I am sure I would have problems driving in town. The lift should be a big help, thanks very much for the offer."

"I have my car in the short term lot, I was just in Atlanta for the day."

"That is certainly nice of you to give me a lift Jake."

"No problem, going there anyway."

The two men walked down to the baggage return area. Ricky spotted his bag, grabbed it as it came up, then the two walked out of the terminal to the parking lot. Jake found his parking ticket and they proceeded to find the car.

"I can never remember where I leave the damn car," commented Jake

"I know, I lose them all the time."

"There it is, let's get out of here," exclaimed Jake.

"The late model sedan rolled out of the garage and headed away from the airport on its way to D.C. Jake became more talkative as Ricky listened with interest. Jake described his home in northern Virginia just outside of the town of Manassas. His mother still lived in the same house in which he had grown up. He told of his father, a career Navy man, and how his dad had lost a short battle with cancer, only three years before.

They talked about past girlfriends and wives. Jake had been married, however his Navy career, with his many deployments, had taken its toll on his marriage. The deployments were particularly difficult, since his former wife, apparently believing that variety, regarding men, was more appealing to her, than being loyal to one man. While in the Navy, the couple lived in the Norfolk, Virginia area, where Jake was stationed. With many men around, in that area, his wife took full advantage of the situation. The marriage ended without much disagreement.

"I think she went to work at some strip joint." Jake joked. "I know she meets plenty of guys at that occupation. Anyway, she went wild. I guess and she had some wild oats to sow. I couldn't deal with all of that. My job keeps me very busy now, and I guess that's the best thing."

"Sounds like we have a lot in common Jake. I caught my girlfriend Mandy in my bed, in my apartment, with some guy I had never seen before. She had a lot of nerve."

"Nerve is right," replied Jake. "Sounds like she was really jerking you around. Man you didn't need that crap."

"No I didn't. She is ancient history now," Ricky declared.

Jake stopped the car in front of the hotel on L Street. Ricky thanked him for the lift and told him he wished him the best for the future. Jake took out a pen and wrote down his cell phone number on a notepad and handed the page to Ricky. He explained that since he would be living in the area, that Ricky should give him a call sometime, and possibly the two could get together for a drink.

"By the way, I have season's tickets to football games here. Would you like to go sometime?" asked Jake.

"Sounds great, sure I would. I will try to keep in touch and let you know what happened on the job situation.

"Great, it was good meeting you," said Jake, extending his right hand.

"Thanks for everything, I'll talk to you soon."

Ricky opened the car door and stepped out onto the curb. He gathered his luggage from the back seat, then said goodbye to Jake. He felt as if Jake had become a new friend, and he had intentions of trying to stay in contact with him. Jake seemed to be a really good person. Things seemed to be looking up, he thought, for a change.
Chapter 2

Ricky checked out of the hotel around 7:00am on that Friday morning. After breakfast, he headed down L Street on foot to his home office around the corner on K. Presenting his company identification at the security desk, he asked the guard to see Robert Moran, his boss. Hanging up from the call to Moran's office, the guard pointed to an elevator, and instructed Ricky to proceed to the third floor. When the elevator door opened on the third floor, a very attractive receptionist at the front desk greeted him.

"He's on the phone right now," she said. "I'll let him know you are here when he hangs up.

"Thanks," replied Ricky, settling into one of the big reception chairs.

It had been a while since Ricky had been at the home office. His assignment in Atlanta, as lead accountant, required him to be full time at the plant. Actually working for Moran, he replaced a man who had recently resigned. Changes to old policies by the new investors were the cause of many resignations at the plant during that time. This previously family owned business quickly turned in a new direction. Ricky was directed to set up a separate, and very secret, set of books just to monitor offshore bank account transactions in Belize. There was a separate corporation in Belize as well, connected directly to the Atlanta based company. Moran was funneling money into and out of the firm in Atlanta by making wire transfers to and from Belize. The balances in Belize, were from various governments, even the State Department, and different firms all over the world. As far as Ricky was concerned, none of them passed the smell test but he did as he was told.

The recent bankruptcy of the Atlanta based firm was contrived from what Ricky could glean from the books. Successful in the past, the firm had a good potential but was held back recently by this new group of investors. The plant closed and Ricky found himself in D.C., waiting for his next assignment.

Ricky sat thinking about all that had transpired over the last two and one-half years. It seemed like such a wasted effort since the company had closed, but Moran had paid him very well, and he had a nice savings account, along with some investments in stocks. He wasn't rich by any means, but he felt very secure financially from his efforts on this job. Maybe his next assignment would be more fulfilling.

Moran, in his late fifties, with a stocky build and heavy graying around the temples, was a very impressive executive type. A retired Captain in the Navy, there was a definite military demeanor attached to him as evidenced by his perfect attire, from his crisp white dress shirt, to his highly polished shoes. He walked down the hall from his office to the reception area in almost a brisk march.

"Wake up," said Moran laughing. "I don't pay you to daydream," he said, chuckling.

"I'm sorry Mr. Moran, just thinking about Atlanta," replied Ricky.

"Come on in and have a seat Ricky."

Moran walked back down the hall to his office with Ricky following. He closed the door after Ricky had taken his seat.

"Glad to see you, you did a great job for us in Atlanta, Ricky," Moran said.

"Thanks for that, Mr. Moran, I had become a little depressed in that place, things really went down hill at the end."

"They always do in those cases, don't worry about it. It's just the way things are in this country. Businesses are not designed to fail. They are designed to succeed. And when one doesn't succeed, everyone concerned feels the pressure. It is over now, and as I said before, you did a great job down there, and I appreciate it. Thanks for shipping all those company books to me, the ones with the transactions. Did you clean everything up as I had asked?" Moran inquired.

"Yes," replied Ricky. "I cleaned up every trace of any of that work. I sent you the actual books and the hard disk drive on the computer. Hope they got here OK?"

"Yes they arrived intact."

"I suppose the bankruptcy attorneys will close things out and hire a local accountant to file all the final taxes for the main corporate books," Ricky inquired, being curious.

"That's all been covered Ricky. Don Carson's firm is handling things. They always do a good job for us. Don, or someone in his office may have some questions, and might call you from time to time, but I think it's probably done, as far as you are concerned."

Moran sighed, signaling an effort to change the subject.

"But now, we are moving ahead. I have something out in the western part of northern Virginia just outside of a little town called Middleberg. It's horse country out there. People there with bucks all have horses. Even people with no bucks have horses. Many politicians in D.C. move their families out in that area, since Middleberg has become somewhat of an exclusive bedroom community to Washington. I think that's where they get all that manure that they bring back to D.C. to spread around." Moran smiled as he attempted to make a little joke.

"I thought I smelled something as I got off the plane at Dulles," Ricky replied, coming forth with his attempt to make a little joke.

At that, they both, trying to be polite with each other, laughed.

"Ever heard of Senator Pearson from Virginia?" Moran asked.

"Of course I have," replied Ricky. "I am from Virginia, you know, and I am familiar with Middleberg. It's between the mountains and D.C. Senator Pearson was in the U.S. Senate for quite a while. I believe that he served until his death just a few years ago. Very respected man in Virginia during his service." Ricky added.

"Yes, he served almost twenty-four years, and passed away. He was survived only by his wife of 42 years. She still lives on the estate called Shelby Grove Farm, a little west of Middleberg. Senator and Mrs. Pearson have a long history of assisting the government in many transactions. Over time, the things they did really benefited this nation. Not only did Senator Pearson actively participate in the legislative process in Washington, he also handled many very sensitive and secret agreements at his home. There were many high level dignitaries and envoys from other nations involved. Very important man for his time, very important." Moran concluded.

"So how does this factor into what I can do to help?" asked Ricky.

"Well, since the good Senator's death, Mrs. Pearson has struggled trying to handle the estate along with attempting to take care of some of the business she and the late Senator delved into. Most of the Senator's prior business contacts have gone in other directions since his death, and as a result, Mrs. Pearson has been trying to trim down expenses. There are some dicey transactions coming up however, and she needs to get her books straightened out. She needs to setup an accounting system. She tries to do everything on paper but that is not working out too well. You know how to put everything on computer. There will also be some activity with those bank accounts in Belize." Moran explained.

"I figured something like that," Ricky said, interrupting.

"Don't be a smart ass, Ricky," Moran stated with a grin.

"Oh, I'm not, just stating the facts. Everything always leads to the money, right?" asked Ricky.

"Yea, it's the root of all evil, for sure." said Moran.

"By the way Mr. Moran, according to the Bible, money is not the root of all evil, the love of money is," said Ricky. "I think it's in the book of Timothy. My father used to preach about it."

"I can see the connection, about the love of money, makes more sense. Anyway, I need for you to go out to Middleberg and see Mrs. Pearson. If both of you hit it off, you have your next assignment. And the money will be better than that Atlanta gig." said Moran. "So what do you think?" he asked.

"Well, its sounds interesting. Let's give it a try."

"Ok, you will need some help getting there and I believe that you have already met someone that I would like to assign to that task to help you."

Moran pushed the intercom button to connect him to his receptionist.

"Melissa, send Jake in here." he asked.

"Yes Mr. Moran, right away," she replied.

"I met a guy named Jake on the plane yesterday," Ricky remarked.

"It's the same guy, Ricky. I sent him down to make sure you got up here OK. I had heard that there might be someone stalking you trying to find out about those offshore accounts. I couldn't take the chance that something could happen to you. So I sent Jake down to bring you up here. We had it arranged that you would have seat assignments next to each other. I did hear yesterday though, that it all seemed to be a false alarm. The FBI, and the local police, took that guy into custody yesterday for questioning. He had some connections with the plant down there. But, he was interested in ripping off someone else for some cash stolen at the plant closing. So there is no need to be concerned, you were not involved with that deal."

"The FBI?"

"Yep, they nailed him, he will be away for a while." Moran explained. "What did you think of Jake?"

"Great guy. Is he a body guard or something?" Ricky questioned.

"No, just a big guy that knows how to take care of himself. So I trusted him to watch out for you for the day."

"Well, thanks for sending him, I not much of a fighter, therefore, I not too good at defending myself."

"Jake knows martial arts and things. He is good at it. By the way, we also know him as Candy Cane," answered Moran. "That's what Mrs. Pearson calls him, she thinks the absolute world of him. She and his mother have been friends for years, and both were in Washington's political circles, you know." Moran stated.

"Jake never mentioned anything about Mrs. Pearson," Ricky exclaimed.

Just then, there was a strong knock on the door.

"Come in Jake," said Moran.

The door opened and there he was, all six foot, two hundred thirty pounds of him.

"Hi Bob, I see you have brother in here with you," Jake commented.

"Brother, what's this brother stuff?" asked Moran.

"Just a nickname Bob, I just called him that on the plane, and it sort of stuck."

"Oh, so it's Brother Russell, is that right, instead of Ricky? And we also have Candy Cane Lawson instead of Jake. Is that what we put in the personnel records?" Moran said with a chuckle. "But now at least when you refer to somebody as brother, I will know who you are talking about."

"You didn't tell him about the Candy Cane thing, did you?"

"He's going to find out about it sooner rather than later Jake, Maggie is bound to say something."

"Damn, that will stick with me forever."

"I think it's kind of cute," laughed Moran.

"Cute? I don't think it so damn cute," scoffed Jake.

"Well, let's get down to business boys. Check out an SUV from the garage, Jake. Take Ricky on out to see Margaret. She's waiting for you guys. With any luck, you will get there at cocktail hour. You know she likes to sit and talk with a drink in her hand," Moran recalled. "Life was good back when she and the Senator were wheeling and dealing, I must say. Anyway, get going."

Moran re-opened the office door and the two bid him farewell and left the building for Middleberg.

The SUV rolled along I-66 heading west of D.C. The two began to open up to each other a little more as the miles added up.

"How long have you worked for Moran?" asked Ricky.

"Over two years now. I started after I finished my stint with the Navy. At that point I decided not to re-up."

"You must have been in the Navy for a while, I guess?"

"Yea, about fifteen years. How long have you worked for Moran?

"Two and a half years."

"So, we have been with the company about the same length of time."

"Yes, I guess so. My job in Atlanta never allowed me to meet many co-workers at the home office. I would only talk to Moran via phone or teleconferencing. I worked in Atlanta the entire time that I have been with the company."

"You gotta do what you gotta do," replied Jake. "Moran told me you helped setup offshore accounts for the plant you were working for. I was briefed on the whole setup, Ricky. Don't be afraid to talk to me about things. I know the people I can talk to and who I had better not. We are in a game in which we could help each other, and the game is important. So much in Government is covert that most people have no idea about. We are just contractors on the fringe of things that help agents get their jobs done. We work just on the fringes of the law too. The best thing to do is not to ask too many questions of anyone. Just keep your nose clean and go with the flow. Probably that money in those offshore accounts was destined for other countries, to buy back political prisoners, or trade information back and forth, or who knows what."

"I didn't ask about any of those deals, not that I didn't care, I just thought it best not to ask."

"You did the right thing."

"I need this job, I don't want to screw it up."

"You know Ricky, you are not as stupid as you look," Jake said with a big smile.

Ricky immediately catching on to Jake's banter, came forth with a reply. "Neither are you Jake. I thought when I first met you, that you were just another, big stupid moose, dumb as hell. But after talking with you for a while, I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope for you." Ricky said, with a big grin.

Ricky had picked up that Jake like to throw out little barbs every now and then just to keep the conversation interesting. That's why he replied with the stupid moose comment to Jake, just to see if he could take it as well as dish it out.

"Just because you are jealous of my good looks and my body, don't go throwing stones. I have a suggestion, you need to start working out and firm up that fat ass of yours."

"What fat? I weight 162 pounds and it's solid muscle. I could kick your big ass, that's for sure."

At that point, Jake broke out into an uproarious laughter and Ricky sat there in the passenger's seat just looking at him smiling. Jake loved to verbally poke at people to rile them up. He was right on track to get the best of Ricky, but somehow, he really enjoyed Ricky's come back.

All you have ever done is sit on your fat ass in an office somewhere and push a pencil over a ledger. You are full of it." Jake laughed out loud again.

"Shut up Candy Cane." Ricky laughed at his own timely reply to Jake's comments.

All of a sudden the laughter stopped on the driver's side of the car.

"I wish Moran had never said anything to you about the Candy Cane thing," said Jake "What else did he tell you about me?"

"Just that you and your mom were long time friends with the Pearsons, and Mrs. Pearson calls you Candy Cane."

"Well cut out the Candy Cane crap, Russell," was Jake's very gruff reply.

"Excuse me, maybe I'll just call you Candy Ass instead."

"Speaking of ass, I am about to stop this car, and pull you out and kick your fat ass."

"I could take your butt in a minute," was the reply from Ricky. "You couldn't pull a sick whore off a piss pot."

Ricky was the one to break into a big round of laughter at that point. He reached over to Jake with his right hand as if to request a handshake. He had learned that he liked to agitate people as well and he thought maybe that he had, in this instance, gone just a little too far.

"Just messing around with you, old buddy. Didn't mean to get you all riled up, Jake."

"You sure have an odd sense of humor, you little shit."

"Gotcha, didn't I. Can we make up now, no need to be mad, I sorry."

"All right, but watch your mouth, brother. Maybe there is some truth to what folks say about a preacher's son thing. I mean that they are in a direct contact with the devil."

"Yea, I know people say a lot of stupid things about preacher's sons. They are stupid because they don't know what they are talking about."

"If you are in sync with the devil, I have to say, that he ain't too powerful in your body," laughed Jake.

"I thought we were going to make up."

"OK, friends?" said Jake, extending his hand.

"Friends it will be." Ricky said, as he shook Jake's hand.

At that moment, Ricky instinctively knew that he had begun to understand Jake a little better. The banter was supposed to be just for fun. Ricky had hoped that Jake knew that about him as well. Jake could dish it out too, but down deep, he had a hard time taking all of it. Ricky found out that Jake had a soft spot under that rough exterior. He had hit that soft spot, and knew not to go there again, just to keep the peace. He would lighten the conversation from then on, as they drove to Middleberg.
Chapter 3

Early that Friday afternoon, the SUV finally rolled up to the front gate of Shelby Grove Farm. The Pearsons had named the farm Shelby, from the old English derivative, for willow. Ricky would later see the beautiful pond, between the house and the stables, lined with willows so much admired by the late Senator. At the entrance there were two huge brick columns, and a big double gate that swung open into the property. They proceeded down a private drive that had to be over a half of a mile long. It was lined with white horse fencing on either side. The large brick Georgian residence stood on a slight knoll, and the driveway circled around to the front door. The SUV stopped in front of a massive double entrance door, decorated with typical woodwork adornments for the period, including a large scroll above it. The house was quite impressive, as well as the exterior landscaping at the front of the home. In the center of the circular drive, boxwoods surrounded the garden area. Dogwood trees, as well, so popular in Virginia, were featured.

The two men exited the SUV, and started up the few steps that led to the front porch. One of the entrance doors opened suddenly, and Mrs. Pearson hurried out to meet them.

"Jake, my little candy cane," Mrs. Pearson exclaimed.

"Aunt Maggie, how are you doing?" Jake asked.

"I'm doing well, honey," giving Jake a big hug and kiss.

"I wish you wouldn't call me candy cane in front of other people, Aunt Maggie."

"Oh poo, that's just an indication of how much I love you, you sweet boy."

"I have already heard about the candy cane issue Mrs. Pearson, so you just call the big lug whatever you want to. Apparently, he's really sensitive about it," Ricky said. "By the way, Mrs. Pearson, how did you decide to give him that nickname?"

"When he was a baby," she said, "he kept pulling off the candy canes from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He would somehow work the wrappers off. He'd make the biggest mess trying to eat them. He was adorable. So his nickname stuck, because he did it every year at Christmas. Unfortunately, he eventually got too big for it. I do have some picture of him though, he was so cute."

"You must be Mr. Russell," said Mrs. Pearson.

"Please call me Ricky, ma'am."

"And you can call me Maggie."

"Thanks Maggie," said Ricky shaking her hand.

"I never had any children, and Jake has always been like a son to Harold and me. His mom and I grew up together, and his dad worked with Senator Pearson on various governmental issues over the years since he was based at the Pentagon. We are all very close. I am so proud of Jake, and proud of the fact that he followed in his father's footsteps and joined the Navy. It's not easy to become a Navy Seal, Ricky, but he excelled at it."

"I didn't know Jake was a Navy Seal, Mrs. Pearson."

"Yes, I think it a wonderful achievement. Seals never talk about their work in the Navy. You can't even drag it out of them. Tight lipped bunch of men," she stated.

"I'm impressed," said Ricky.

At this point in the conversation, Mrs. Pearson and Ricky turned to Jake for a reaction. Jake's face couldn't be a brighter shade of red, from blushing.

"See how sweet he is Ricky? He's blushing and not saying a word."

"I can't help from noticing that, Mrs. Pearson."

"Come on in boys and have something to drink," said Mrs. Pearson, noticing how uneasy Jake appeared just then.

They proceeded into the central foyer of the incredible mansion, past the huge dining room to the left, and a large formal living room to the right. Large fireplaces adorned the walls at the outside ends of each room. The windows seemed to stretch from the floor to the ceiling, and were set off with beautiful draperies. Enormous oriental carpets were throughout the two rooms, and one very large carpet extended the length of the dining room table that, when fully extended, could seat fourteen. In the foyer, they walked under a huge chandelier that had to be five or six feet in diameter, with four tiers, of forty-eight lights. The colonial brass fixture hung from the second story in front massive spiral staircase. Typical of Virginia, and its Williamsburg influence, all the furniture was very traditional in the Queen Anne style.

"You boys come on back to the study. We can sit down and talk," said Mrs. Pearson, who grabbed Jake around the waist to walk with him.

"Why don't you come see me more often, darling?" she asked.

"Aunt Maggie, I have been busy, Moran works my ass off."

"I'll have to talk to him about that sweetheart."

"It won't do any good, he keeps assigning me to things. I have to baby sit this pencil pusher, for example."

"Honey, don't be so mean. From what Moran tells me he's quite a brain."

Now it was Ricky's turn to blush, which was immediately noticed by Mrs. Pearson and Jake.

"Look at him blush, Aunt Maggie."

"I'm not blushing, I just got a little warmed up from standing on the porch in the sunlight."

"Yes you are too, brother, and, I think you have a lot of people fooled at how bright you are too."

At this point Mrs. Pearson started to laugh at the two. She opened the study door and entered another example of the opulence of the mansion. Along one wall were bookcases filled with law books for the most part, but there were sections for some of the great classics as well. At the end of the room there was a massive mahogany desk with a large leather swivel chair behind it. In front of the desk there were two large leather wing back chairs. On the wall opposite the bookcases, were large portraits of Senator and Mrs. Pearson painted by the noted Virginia artist, Everett Dawson. You could see these had been done some years before, as Mrs. Pearson, now in her sixties, seemed twenty-five years older than the portrait of her.

"Ricky," said Mrs. Pearson, "He wouldn't call you brother if he didn't like you."

"He tells me he calls everybody brother," Ricky replied.

"No he doesn't, only his Navy pals, or those he has taken a liking to. You don't have anything to worry about, my boy, he will come around I'm sure."

It appeared to Ricky, from Mrs. Pearson's statements, that she had a positive reaction to him. He noticed that right away, and could see that this assignment would be terrific. He didn't want to make a wrong impression on this lady. He was trying to be friendly with a positive attitude, while not taking offense at Jake's banter. He had figured earlier, that it was just the way Jake was, nothing more, nothing less. If you wanted to have Jake around, you had to put up with his rough playing. Moran wanted Jake around, so Ricky had to adapt. Mrs. Pearson softened Jake up considerably. He was a real pussycat around her.

"Maggie, I will try to get along with him. I never had a brother, although, I have always wanted one," explained Ricky.

"Good boy, Ricky," she said. "You can't help but love him, just look at how pretty he is."

"Aunt Maggie, please."

Ricky just couldn't figure how Maggie thought Jake was pretty. Jake certainly wasn't ugly, but Ricky wouldn't characterize him as pretty either. But as they say, "looks are in the eye of the beholder," he thought.

The two men sat down in the wing back chairs that faced the desk, and Mrs. Pearson took her seat behind the desk in the big leather chair. She brought out a folder of paperwork from a desk drawer, and placed it on top of the desk.

"These are my books, Ricky," Mrs. Pearson explained, starting another topic of conversation. "I am just not able to do this stuff. Ever since Harold died, I have tried to work with a local accountant and my broker on income that I derive from stock holdings. That part has worked out rather well, so far. I don't know how much Moran told you about my other activities, but there is some income from those activities that I need to deal with."

Mrs. Pearson stopped her conversation, and pressed a button on the intercom.

"Maria, can you bring in some ice? I need a drink. I have two really good looking men in the study now, and I can't keep my eyes off them," said Mrs. Pearson.

"Sure Mrs. P," replied Maria. "One of them isn't that angel Jake, is it?"

"You can't have him Maria, he's mine."

"I'll be right in with the ice, Mrs. P."

"Thanks Maria."

Mrs. Pearson leaned back into the big leather swivel chair and continued her previous conversation. While she was speaking, she opened another drawer, and withdrew a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and three glasses, placing them on top of the desk.

"Over the years, as senator, Harold had dealings with many people from countries other than the United States. Many dealings had to do with national security issues concerning this country. Monies were exchanged from time to time, for things like trade secrets, even negotiations to release political prisoners. There were so many other things too, the list goes on and on. Everything we did was tied back to the Pentagon, the CIA and even the FBI. So sending a tax return on that stuff to the IRS should not be done. That would expose a lot of people other than me. I can't imagine the can of worms it would open. Most of the time, with almost every transaction, Harold would get some cash. Let's just say, it was a thank you from certain foreign governments, for his work to arrange the deals outside of the State Department. Harold had ways to take care of this cash. Some of it was spent on this house and the farm, then, there were the charities. A huge amount went to charities."

Mrs. Pearson went on to say that since the Senator's death two years before, she had continued, on a lesser scale, to help arrange meetings, and subsequent understandings, between foreign governments. Her husband had included Mrs. Pearson in some of the earlier transactions, due to the fact that the senator would need her help to host dinner parties for various people, most of whom were involved in the undercover deals. Mrs. Pearson had come to know many of them, and continued to have friendly relationships with many of the envoys and dignitaries, after her husband's death. Her dinner parties were always very lavish, and she was admired as the perfect hostess. The estate was the perfect place, away from D.C. The house was private and very relaxing to her guests. The atmosphere was excellent for the deals.

"So, I have this cash on hand," explained Mrs. Pearson.

"I take it that the cash is in a bank?" Ricky inquired.

"No, it's in a safe place here at the house. And, I have never told anyone about it, or where it is. Ricky, I need your help, and I have to trust you. You and Jake are the only two people I can count on for this. Bob Moran has been very gracious to help make this work."

"Moran has made it clear Maggie, that the utmost secrecy is expected from me, and you can count on that. I take it that you would like for me to work with you then."

"Yes, if Jake likes you and trusts you, then I do."

"Thank you Maggie, I appreciate that."

"And if you do anything at all to hurt this lady in any way, shape or form, I will kick your ass to the moon. Do you understand me?" Jake interrupted gruffly.

"Don't get your panties in a wad junior, and who is going to kick whose ass?" replied Ricky.

"Behave boys," exclaimed Mrs. Pearson. "My goodness, I don't need to hear all that stuff, but glad to see that both of you are getting along so well," she said with a big grin.

There was a knock at the study door, Mrs. Pearson knew it was Maria with the ice.

"Come in Maria."

The door opened, and a small Hispanic woman, about four feet eight, entered the room with a bucket of ice.

"Bambino, Bambino, Mi Bambino," Maria yelled.

Maria put the ice on a table near the door and scurried over to Jake with arms outstretched. He leaned over and returned her hugs, and she planted a big kiss on his cheek. Mrs. Pearson sat quietly smiling, as she and Ricky watched the show. Maria had helped Mrs. Pearson over the years take care of Jake particularly when he was very young. His father's travels and assignments with the Navy caused him to be out of the country on many occasions. Many of those times, Mrs. Lawson would accompany her husband. Since Jane Lawson and Margaret Pearson had been life long friends, the only people Jane would trust to take care of Jake, their only son, were the Pearsons.

As a baby, he would stay with them for a week or so at a time. As a young boy, he loved to spend his summers at the farm. Senator Pearson taught him how to shoot the many types of rifles, shotguns and pistols he owned. He became an excellent marksman, and loved to ride the horses. Senator Pearson gave Jake a horse for his eleventh birthday and he would spend endless hours at the stable.

"I can remember when I changed your diapers," said Maria. "You were the sweetest little baby, and you were so good. You never cried and you were so happy all the time. Now that you are all grown up, you never come to see us anymore."

With that statement, Ricky imagined that Maria probably would not want to change Jake's diapers now. He couldn't believe that Jake was the sweet little baby as she described. "Nothing sweet about that guy now," he thought. Ricky didn't say anything, just remained silent throughout Maria's performance.

"I am staying very busy Maria, but I promise that I will try to come out to see you more often. I love you," said Jake.

"And I love you too," Maria replied.

"Maria, fix up the guesthouse, I think I will put the boys in there for tonight. And I want you to meet Richard Russell. He will be coming to live here to help me with my paperwork. Call him Ricky. His nickname is Ricky, Maria."

"Nice to meet you Ricky," said Maria.

"And the same to you Maria." Ricky now standing, politely responding.

"Well, I'll go take care of the guesthouse and fix some lunch. And Jake, I'll put a few beers in the refrigerator in the guest house for you and Ricky."

"You are still my sweet angel," Jake replied.

Off Maria went to do her work. She had been with the Pearsons for many years. Originally from Cuba, she and her family escaped in the early 60's to settle in the Miami area. Then a small group of her family moved to the northern Virginia area to work, and permanently took residence there. Looking for a job at the time, Maria responded to Mrs. Pearson's advertisement for a position as assistant cook. During that time, the late Senator and his wife were hosts to many dinner parties at the farm. Since the Senator's death however, the lavish parties subsided to just a trickle. The number of the original staff at the farm had dwindled as well. Maria was the only remaining member of the household staff still working full time. Mrs. Pearson continued to be very particular about keeping up the place, in memory of her late husband.

Other than Maria, Harry Deacon was the only other full time help. Harry managed the stable and the horses at the farm. Quite a handy man too, Harry did a lot of odd jobs on the place. Having been there since the late sixties, Harry knew Jake when he was a baby. Jake and Harry always got along very well, since Harry always took special care of Jake's horse. Jake spent quite a bit of time at the stable, so he and Harry had become good friends. Jake treated Harry like family.

Mrs. Pearson poured the bourbon into the glasses on the desk and added a few cubes of ice to each. She handed the boys their glasses, then returned to her big leather chair, which, at one time, was the good senator's.

"I don't know what I would do without Maria," Mrs. Pearson stated. "She has been so helpful to me. Even though we are both getting older, we can still make it here on the farm together.

"I'm glad you have some help Maggie," replied Ricky. "I hope I can help too, and I will try to eliminate any worry over the accounting."

"Thanks Ricky," she said, "what plans have you got to help with the books?"

"Well, since you have concerns about your current holdings, I think that it would be a good idea to open an offshore account. It would be for, for what I would describe as, your 'excess' money. Also, two sets of books would be in order. One for the regular income and tax returns, and one to keep account of what I would call the excess.

"The money has built up over the last couple of years to the point that I would certainly describe it as excess as well, Ricky. Way over a million and a half now, I stopped counting a while back." she replied.

"Good heavens! And, you are keeping that here in the house somewhere?"

'"Yes," she said. "It's in a safe place, like I told you."

"Well, don't you think it would be better in that offshore bank?" asked Ricky.

"Oh hell yes, I have worried myself sick over that money. No one knows about it, so I thought the chance of a robbery would be at a minimum. You never know what could happen though."

"Let's start working on that right away," said Ricky, "Moran can help get the offshore account set up. I think we should also setup a corporation in that country, to properly cloak the bank account, and to provide some cover to handle that much cash. It's going to be a little involved, but I think with Moran's connections, we can pull it off. I think in this case, we should be glad he's around."

"Bob has always been good to Harold and me, there is no doubt he will help." said Maggie.

"As far as the books go, Maggie, I would like to transfer everything onto a computer. We need to get you an e-mail address too, Moran likes to e-mail, you know how much he hates a phone."

"Yes, I never hear from him, I guess that's why."

"Anyway, we have a lot of work to do. I need to go back to Atlanta for about a week, if that is OK, to get my apartment cleared out, and bring my car up here."

"Sure, take as long as you need to Ricky, and I'm sure Jake wouldn't mind helping you if you needed him," she said, sipping on her bourbon.

"More baby sitting," was Jake's reply.

"Jake, Ricky has a lot to do. If I ask Moran, I am sure he wouldn't mine if you pitched in a little until Ricky gets everything going. You are beginning to sound like you are the baby that needs the baby sitting," Maggie exclaimed.

"Yes ma'am, as long as you clear it with Moran, I would be glad to help."

"It will give Maria and I a chance to see you more. Of course I want you to help, my little candy cane."

Maggie, stopping the conversation for a moment to think, got up from her big chair, still sipping on the bourbon. She peered out the window.

"There is something else about the money I wanted to talk to both of you about. If we are going to set up the account offshore, I want it so that Jake will have control of the money should something happen to me."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Aunt Maggie," Jake stated.

"Well, I can't live forever, and what would happen to this place if I become incapacitated? I at least want Jake to be able to own the money in the event of my death. Can we fix it that way Ricky?"

"Sure, we can put the account in both names or have both signatures on the cards. Also, I am sure that Moran can come up with some type of trust, or other legal documents, so Jake will have the rights to the money. That sort of thing can be legally worked out."

"I just want Jake to have it. Someone needs to pay the boys in the service for the time and effort they have expended to protect this country. On top of that, Jake, you are like a son to me, a son that I was never able to have on my own. I want you to have that money."

"That's so sweet of you Aunt Maggie, but that is too much for me, way too much."

"No it is not, you will get the whole thing. In fact, I want to invest it and make even more money. So it's final Ricky, get Bob to help you with that as soon as possible."

Jake sat quietly not adding anything more to the conversation regarding the money that Aunt Maggie had hidden in the house. He figured it was in the old safe behind her portrait, he was almost sure of it. It was her wish to leave him the dough, so he couldn't complain, in fact he considered it quite an honor.

Maggie went on to tell the boys that she was going to drop Maria off in town for the weekend and drive down to Richmond. The governor was having an awards dinner for some of his staff the next day, Saturday. She had been invited as one of the dignitaries to give a short speech. She suggested that Jake and Ricky stay until she returned on Sunday to watch the place for one thing, and to enjoy the weekend as well. They agreed to stay and Ricky would leave Monday morning, first thing. He again mentioned that he had a lot of work to do on clearing his apartment the following week. With all that was in front of him, he could use a couple of days off to recharge his batteries.

"I am sure that Jake will show you around the farm," said Maggie, "it has been so hot lately, why don't you boys go for a swim in the pool?"

"Sounds good to me," said Jake.

"And me too" added Ricky.

"Well, I will gather up Maria and head out. I have my bags already packed and I need to leave soon to be on time. It's about a two hours to Richmond, I get to stay in the governor's mansion, that should be a treat."

With that, the three left the study and Mrs. Pearson went upstairs. The boys headed to the rear of the foyer, and walked through another huge set of double doors that opened out to the patio and pool area. The patio had been the place for many warm weather gatherings in the past. The Pearson boasted that three presidents had been there through the years. The pool was large, 75 feet long. It stretched away from the house with the deepest water, and a diving board, at the far end. Near the house, there was a complete covered outdoor kitchen with all the appliances. There was a large area for grilling, and even a smoker. There were plenty of tables with umbrellas all around, with ample lawn furniture available for the guests. Large potted plants with lavish foliage were placed throughout the area. It was truly a wonderful place for entertaining.

The pool area was flanked on the right side with areas that could be setup for cabanas for parties. On the left side, past the cooking area, stood a beautiful, double story, guesthouse. It mirrored the construction of the mansion, and had traditional furnishings throughout. The guesthouse would be Ricky's home for a while, and he could not believe his eyes. At one moment, he thought he was in heaven. He would have the use of the pool, have Maria cook for him, and live in this beautiful relaxed atmosphere.

The two men walked over to the guesthouse and opened the door. The living room was furnished in a very comfortable leather sofa and two matching club chairs. A large flat screen television was hidden on the opposite wall in a mahogany entertainment center. The entertainment center featured surround sound, blue ray disk player and satellite television. A fully stocked bar was at the rear of the living room and a counter divided the living area from the kitchen. The equipped kitchen featured granite counter tops, a double door refrigerator, stove, microwave and dishwasher. A rear entry door opened directly to the garage.

Upstairs were two large bedrooms with king size poster beds, Queen Anne night tables, and highboys. Each bedroom had it own bathroom with double sinks, a jetted tub, and large shower. Ricky, realizing that comparing his small one bedroom apartment in Atlanta to this opulence, was like comparing a ghetto to the Taj Mahal. He could not wait to move in.

"Which bedroom do you want, brother?" asked Jake.

"Doesn't matter, seems like they are both alike."

"OK, I'll take the rear one."

"Yea, the front's fine with me."

"Let's go get the bags."

The two men left the guesthouse and re-entered the door to the main house. Mrs. Pearson had brought down her luggage and a garment bag for trip to Richmond.

"Let me get those for you Aunt Maggie, which car are you going to use?" asked Jake.

"The black Mercedes, honey, here are the keys, it's sweet of you to help."

"I'm glad to do it, Aunt Maggie. Come on Ricky, grab something."

By that time, Maria had appeared from the kitchen with a shopping bag ready to go. Ricky and Jake grabbed the luggage and the shopping bag. All four, left by the rear door, and walked down the breezeway to the garage. The men loaded the car.

Upon entering the garage, Mrs. Pearson went over to a cabinet on the wall. She unlocked it, got a remote control from the shelf, and handed it to Ricky.

"This should open the bay nearest the guest house. And Ricky, when you bring your car back, use that bay for your car honey, instead of parking out front."

"Yes ma'am, thank you very much."

"Well Maria and I are heading out."

"Here's my cell phone number Aunt Maggie, if anything at all happens on this trip you call me immediately. I will be there as soon as I can."

"Honey, it's only a couple of hours drive, the car's in good shape and I don't expect any trouble."

"Well if there is any trouble, at all," Jake reiterated, "Call me."

"I will, and you boys have a good night, and I will see you sometime tomorrow afternoon."

Mrs. Pearson with Maria riding shotgun, backed the big Mercedes out of the garage, they waived goodbye, and headed out to the main road.

"I guess we have the house to ourselves," Jake said.

"Such a fantastic place. It's so relaxing here," replied Ricky.

"Lets see if we can find that beer Maria said she left for us."

"Not a bad idea, we can sit out at the pool and have a cool one," replied Ricky.

The two guys went into the guesthouse and opened the refrigerator. Maria had left about two dozen bottles of various types of foreign and domestic beers.

"What an angel," Jake said, "she is so sweet and thoughtful. Take your pick, brother."

Ricky, unable to decide, held one hand over his eyes and felt for the bottles on the bottom shelf with the other. He grabbed one. He indicated to Jake that it was his turn, and Jake, playing the same game, grabbed an unknown beverage for himself. The two then proceeded to walk out to the pool's edge, sit down in a shady place, and sip on their drinks. Soon, the sound of an engine became more audible, from the direction of the stable. It was Harry, in his old Ford truck, heading out for the evening.

"Come on Ricky, I want you to meet Harry."

"OK."

The two hurried out to the road that led down to the stable. They waited until Harry stopped to greet them.

"Hello Harry," said Jake.

"Hi Jake, how are you doing?"

"Great, and you?" he asked

"Fantastic, thank you" Harry replied. "Maggie said you would be coming down to visit her. I am sure she was glad to see you, Maria too, I'm sure."

"Yes, they went on and on. You know how that is."

"Sure, they don't see you much anymore, but they talk about you all the time."

"You heading into town?" Jake asked.

"Yea, going to see Delores, I try to get up there on the weekends."

"Well have a good time" Jake replied.

Jake introduced Ricky to Harry and they talked for a few minutes. Harry then declared that he had better get going. He started the old truck, and drove around to the front of the house, and out the main driveway. Jake and Ricky returned to their cold beer at poolside.

Jake explained to Ricky that Harry had a girlfriend in town named Delores, who he had been seeing for years. He went on to say that Harry would always leave on Friday afternoons for town, get all lit up on booze at some bar, then spend the weekend with Delores. Jake and Senator Pearson had speculated, from time to time, that Delores had probably never seen Harry sober. The two always concluded after those discussions that it takes all kinds to make a world and how much Harry and Delores were perfect examples of human nature, that people are simply creatures of habit.

"How about something to eat, Ricky, are you hungry?"

"Sure, I can always eat."

"I can tell, from that big fat ass of yours."

"Let's not start that crap again, please."

"Touch a button, huh brother?"

"I'll touch your button you big moose."

"Big talk, wimp."

The two continued their banter as they returned to the guesthouse, and into the kitchen. Maria had prepared two meals for them, and left them on covered plates in the refrigerator. She had little sticky notes on top on how long to put the food in the microwave oven, etc. They followed her instructions, and sat down to eat. The sun seemed like it was gaining speed, as it moved towards the west, and after their meal, the guys grabbed another beer and went back out to the pool. They sat talking until the sun completely set. Lights came on automatically around the pool.

"Let's go swimming" suggested Jake.

"That would be great, but I don't have any swim trunks."

"Who needs those?" came the reply.

"Well, we can't just go skinny dipping."

"I don't see why not, there is no one here but us, just you and I, brother, that's it."

Jake proceeded to strip down to his birthday suit. He was standing there prepared to make a dive and Ricky noticed that Jake's body looked as if it had been chiseled in stone. He didn't realize that Jake had such an athletic build, and had thought he was just another big moose, as he had called him. But, when the cover came off, that was different thing. The entire two hundred thirty pounds of him was solid muscle, and not one ounce of fat anywhere. Jake walked to the end of the pool and climbed onto the diving board. He made a perfect dive, hardly making a ripple, as he entered the water. He popped up further down the pool and swam over to Ricky.

"Coming in?" Jake asked.

"I guess so."

"Well, come on!"

Ricky striped down too, and standing at the edge of the pool, admitted to Jake that he didn't know how to dive.

"Well just jump in, brother."

Ricky did a cannon ball maneuver into the pool, and Jake exploded into laughter.

"I'll teach you how to dive when we have some time."

The two swam around for a while, and eventually landed at the edge of the pool facing the guesthouse. They talked for a long while at the edge of the pool. Both men seemed to truly enjoy the other's company. Ricky never felt that any of his old friends were people that he could really trust. No one in his past, other than his friend Dave, had ever accepted him for what he was. Jake was different somehow, Ricky naturally trusted him. Jake too, never having a sibling, seemed to be very comfortable with Ricky, not just because they are in the same business, which required so much secrecy, but because the two just seemed to hit it off. Then too, they were about the same age, and their conversations ranged from how they liked the same rock groups, cars, and just about everything else.

Ricky went back to his chair and tried to dry off. Jake, swimming like an Olympic star, did laps over and over again. After a while, Jake came to the edge of the pool to catch his breath.

"Jake, how did you managed to be in such good shape," Ricky asked.

Jake explained that he started in high school to train as a wrestler. He constantly worked out with weights, always running, and competed in swimming along with many other sports. After he joined the Navy, they continued the body training for him.

"Worked out pretty good for me, the Navy that is." explained Jake. "They had a systematic approach to gaining the correct results while training. I learned all types of techniques. Anyway, why talk about the Navy, that is history now."

One thing Ricky had picked up, over the time he had known Jake, was he never spoke much about the Navy. Now that he knew that he had been a Navy Seal, Ricky suspected that the silence about his previous work was to be expected. Even Maggie had said that they are literally, a closed mouth bunch of men.

Jake asked Ricky, who had almost completely dried off, to go into the guesthouse and bring out some towels. Ricky located a linen closet in the guesthouse, retrieved two beach towels, picked up two more beers from the refrigerator, and returned to the pool. By that time, Jake was sitting at the table dripping water.

"Here's your towel Jake, and I brought you another beer."

"Thanks, brother."

After a while, the two finish their drinks, gathered their clothing and retreated to the guesthouse. In a way, today had been fun for both. Ricky now wished that he didn't have to go back to Atlanta to close down his apartment, but you have to do what you have to do, he thought. He would just get that chore behind him so he could come up to the farm to stay. That would be great. Mrs. Pearson seemed so normal, and Ricky envied Jake for having both his mom, and his Aunt Maggie to have raised him.

He thought of his own mother who never seemed to do anything that was normal, and it always appeared to him that she never really cared for her son. All she could think about were her own delusions. Maybe she was the one who had the pact with the devil. Maybe it was the preacher's wife, instead of the preacher's son, who was in league with the man with the horns and a pitchfork. Ricky then realized that Jake was correct when he advised him not live in the past. He had to learn to appreciate the wonderful things that were happening to him now. There was another side to life, a much better one.

After their showers, the two guys called it a night and retired to their respective bedrooms. Tomorrow would be another day.
Chapter 4

Ricky and Jake spent the next morning at Shelby Grove Farm walking around the place. Behind the main house, guesthouse and garage, was a big pond lined with the willow trees that the late Senator had planted years before. The horses were allowed to drink from the pond and to graze there, which made for a very picturesque scene. White horse fencing was everywhere, and divided the paddocks and pastures. Past the pond, an eight stall stable had been constructed with Harry's quarters on one end. The stable had once been complete with eight horses, but now only it housed three, Mrs. Pearson's rescued mustangs, Nina, Pinta and Maria. The 'girls', as she referred to them, all live the luxurious life on that farm. They didn't get eat regular hay, they had special hay brought in to dine on during the winter. Regular visits from the vet kept them in great shape. Their beautiful black coats on that summer Sunday morning reflected the sun as they moved through the field grazing, taking a few steps at a time, with each bite of grass. The pastures were well kept, regularly seeded and perfect for the horses. It seemed that all the horses did was to eat. They did get to go for a ride once and a while when, Mrs. Pearson was in the mood.

Beyond the pastures and stable, a grassy airstrip was maintained for small planes. The airstrip sloped down a slight hill to enable takeoffs and landings. At the lower end of the strip, a small building stood with a windsock flying above. At one time, radio equipment had been installed, but was removed some years before. Certain dignitaries, from time to time, flew in on private aircraft for functions and meetings. In that regard, the estate was complete for entertaining. The strip had not seen too much activity over the past several years, but Harry maintained it, at the direction of Mrs. Pearson. She had tried to keep the farm like her late husband had done, out of respect for his memory.

About one thirty in the afternoon, Mrs. Pearson's Mercedes could be spotted coming up the driveway to the house. She drove around to the garage and used her remote control to open her garage bay. She parked the car and opened the trunk to remove her luggage. Ricky and Jake had spotted her arrival, as they were returning from the pond.

"Hi, Aunt Maggie, did you have a good trip?" inquired Jake.

"Yes, honey, it was fantastic, the food was unbelievable. I stayed in a guestroom in the Governor's mansion in downtown Richmond. I talked to so many people, and had a wonderful time. But I am glad to be home. I hate driving by myself, no one to talk to, and you know I like to talk."

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time," replied Jake.

"What have you boys been up to? I hope you haven't been bickering with each other?"

"We went swimming last night, and this morning we went down to the stable to see the girls."

"My girls, aren't they incredible?"

"Such beautiful animals, Maggie," added Ricky.

"Pretty babies, all three of them, that's for sure," she added.

Jake and Ricky grabbed the suitcases and garment bag from the back of the car, and everyone proceeded to the house. Ricky discussed his upcoming schedule with Mrs. Pearson. He planned to spend the next week in Atlanta closing down his apartment. He would try to get back to Virginia the following Monday, only a week and one day. Ricky told her he was able to get a flight out that afternoon from Dulles to Atlanta, and Jake would take him to the airport after lunch. Mrs. Pearson thanked him for coming and she looked forward to having him back in a week. They all went into the kitchen and Mrs. Pearson found food in the refrigerator for sandwiches, and they all enjoyed a good lunch. About an hour later, Maria returned from town, happy to see everyone, and Jake would not worry about Maggie being alone. Things were good.

A little later, Jake and Ricky loaded up the SUV, said goodbye to Mrs. Pearson and Maria, and headed out of the farm and on their way to Dulles Airport. Ricky's life was changing, he thought, changing for the better. He was like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Ricky had learned a lot in Atlanta, with having some good and bad experiences there. It was now his time to move on. He knew how Dorothy felt at the end of that movie. She had learned about the true meaning of many things, and was sent back to Kansas with that knowledge. By moving back to Virginia, Ricky was on his way back to a place with a lot of bad memories, but trying to be optimistic, he decided to be hopeful for the future with this new job.
Chapter 5

Several days earlier, on that past Thursday, thousands of miles away in Caracas, Venezuela, a small framed Japanese man scurried out of the main terminal building at Bolivar airport. Crossing the busy street from the main entrance of the terminal, he noticed a covered bus stop, with a row of benches for waiting passengers. In a briefing before he left Japan, he was to walk to the far end of the benches and wait for a small white sedan to stop for him. This sedan would have the letter 'T' printed on a piece of cardboard and taped to the rear door window glass.

Soon, as expected, a white sedan approached slowly, then stopped at the curb in front of him. The letter 'T' was there, on the cardboard, taped to the rear glass.

"Toru?" The driver asked.

"Yes," Toru replied.

"Please get in the car," the driver instructed.

Toru obliged, but before entering the car, he removed the cardboard sign from the glass. The car sped off away from the airport in the direction of Caracas, some fifteen miles away. He knew when he took his seat in that car, he would be less likely of having an accident in the aircraft from which he had just deplaned, than in this vehicle headed for the city of Caracas. There are traffic regulations there, but they are never obeyed by anyone.

The car moved along, never stopping for a stop sign. The driver continued to meander in and out of the small streets to their destination, the huge shipping district, on the coast. The slightly built man in the rear seat was known by his Japanese name of Toru. In his business, just the name Toru, had also become his trade name. He was an international courier of sensitive material for his country, Japan. For many years, he had worked with his government, and the governments of other countries to deliver documents, money, or whatever he was required to transport. As was his style, he carried only one small bag when he traveled. His assignments had been so extensive over the previous twenty-five years that he had learned that the less he carried in airports, the quicker he could pass through security and customs. Any other items needed could be purchased and disposed of at his destinations.

Toru was on a mission for the Government of Japan to retrieve three computer disks and deliver them to the CIA in Washington. These disks contained the plans for a Russian weapons system that were currently under consideration for duplication by the Venezuelan government. Two disks contained data. Those two disks, which contained most of the plans and specifications for the system, were very heavily encrypted. Along with the data, software had also been installed, designed to convert the data to gibberish if there was an attempt to transmit the data over the internet. Other attempts to copy the data with another computer, fax or other means, were also impossible. The third disk contained the key to the first two, along with important elements of the plans and specs. The key would allow the data on the first two to become available for use. Without the key and the data on that disk, the data on the other two disks was absolutely useless.

The government of Venezuela had become closely tied to other left leaning countries such as Cuba, Russia and Iran. The Venezuelan leaders seemed hell bent on constructing weaponry designed to attack countries like the United States. Joining the group of countries with same goals, the dictatorship governing Venezuela, was engaging in a constant flow of information and materials to bring them up to speed on the production of military weaponry.

A growing rebel group within Venezuela, worked in secret to insure that this current government would never become successful in building these terrible weapons. The rebels had undercover moles in every department of the corrupt government. The members of the group quietly attempted to, and were successful in, sabotaging many of the government's programs underway.

Due to the increased speed by the government to build this new aggressive weapon, the rebel group decided to dedicate all their efforts to this priority. Learning of the three disks through their moles, and with work of the experts within their ranks, the rebel group successfully stole, and copied all three disks, using the key on the third. Additionally, the data on the disks had been compressed so that that size of the three disks had been reduced to a smaller size, each approximately three inches in diameter. The originals were successfully returned intact, without any suspicion of the theft.

A network of CIA operatives, located in Venezuela, had a good working relationship with the rebel group. During planning meetings, it was decided that, should either party attempt to smuggle the disks out of Venezuela, and be caught, the cover for the CIA and the rebels would then be exposed. This would endanger too many people. To protect their ongoing mission, a decision was made to contact an outside courier to handle the transfer. The CIA having been involved with Toru for years, trusted his capabilities to transport the disks. It was the objective to deliver the disks to Washington, and they planned their mission with all precision. Toru was a perfect candidate. From his extensive history in similar missions, it was estimated that he would have the greatest chance of success in delivering the disks.

A man of many languages, Toru was an expert in martial arts and was more than able to defend himself. Not to be fooled by his small frame, Toru was well known as one of the most illusive figures in the business. He was like a cat with nine lives. However Toru, was now approaching fifty years old, and was beginning to feel the urge to leave this life of intrigue. However, once again, he had been called by his country to assist an ally, the United States, and of course agreed to take the job.

Before his journey to Venezuela, a briefing with the CIA operatives in Japan presented the basic layout for his trip. Toru however, needed more flexibility to change directions as needed. He recommended that Margaret Pearson be his contact for his final delivery of the disks. Toru and the Pearsons had been friends for many years and with his utmost trust in their integrity. He would have a safe and reliable place for the transfer. Handing off the disks without some assurance of ultimate delivery could be extremely dangerous. He expected that, should his mission be discovered, the possibility of him being followed would put his life in jeopardy. It would be very detrimental to the mission if the disks fell into the wrong hands. All agreed, he needed the flexibility to make changes as required.

Toru reflected on the briefing while on his way by car to the center of Caracas. He was ready. Knowing the town of Caracas, and having traveled in that region many times in his career, he had plans in mind for the job. He would have to work his way out of Venezuela undetected, probably through Colombia. Then, travel to Mexico using various means, land, air or sea. He knew at which checkpoints the searches would be more aggressive, and which ones were more lax all along the route. Planning the first leg of the journey, Toru decided to simply take the bus from Caracas to Santa Marta, a huge seaport in Colombia on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. There is one checkpoint along the way at the border of Venezuela and Colombia, where he expected a search of his luggage, and possibly a search of his person. More than likely though, the luggage would be the target. Even at that, the corrupt police at the checkpoint would, without question, take bribes, and there would be no searches at all, if the bribes were handsome enough.

For safety in concealing the disks, he planned to stitch them inside the material of a thick shirt. The shirt had heavy embroidery over the lapel areas, and would better conceal the disks. If he had to experience a pat down, the disks would likely not be found. He knew they were looking primarily for drugs or concealed weapons.

The white sedan finally turned into a small street in central Caracas. It was an industrial area with metal buildings, offices on the front of the buildings, and warehouses to the rear of them. Soon the sedan entered a driveway that lead up to one of the metal buildings, it stopped in front of a tall garage door. The driver tapped the horn several times. Slowly the door opened, just enough to allow the sedan to proceed into the building. Once inside, the garage door returned to its closed position. Several men made their way to the sedan as Toru and the driver exited the car. Toru recognized an old friend, a CIA agent named Carter, who came over to him to greet him. Toru spoke fluent English.

"Carter, it is good to see you, old friend," Toru exclaimed.

"Good to see you too, Toru. You look well my friend," was Carter's reply.

"Well enough I suppose, for an old man," said Toru.

"You are not old, just getting started," Carter said, with a big grin.

Carter introduced Toru to the other three men who were Venezuelan rebel members. None of them spoke or understood any English. Toru replied to the introduction to all of them in their native language, in his ever so polite Japanese manner. Communications between all the men was not a problem though, as one rebel member spoke English and was able to translate to the others. They then all walked into a small office at the side of the building and took seats at a large conference table. Agent Carter produced the disks.

"Here they are, Toru, the three little things that are so important."

"I see that two of them are numbered and there is the letter K on third," said Toru. "That must be the key, of course. I will try to keep the disks separated, if the numbered disks are taken from me, they are useless without the third, so I have been told."

"Correct. The Russians must have designed it that way for safety. They kept the numbered disks separate."

Toru and the men discussed the next leg of the journey. Toru's idea about leaving Venezuela by bus was well received by the group. He would travel to Santa Marta, then proceed north by other means.

"If you want to go by bus, you must be aware of the checkpoint at the border of Colombia and Venezuela. The Colombian border officials are corrupt and take bribes from the passengers. If you want to clear through without any problems, you will have to pay," added a rebel leader in his native Spanish.

"I understand," responded Toru in the local language. "How long is the trip?"

"It's eighteen hours by bus to Santa Marta," said Carter. "There are a number of cantinas along the way for food and rest, but that is a long trip, my friend."

"Yes, a very long bus ride, but I think it is the best way. I will be traveling as a tourist, as my cover."

"That's excellent. Also, we may have some good news, Toru. There is a good possibility that a Japanese freighter will be in port in Santa Marta when you arrive there."

"Where are they heading? Toru asked.

"They are heading north, to Cuba, it is believed," said Carter.

"That way I will not have to go over land through Central America. I understand that traveling through that area is very dangerous, due to the cartel gang activity."

"Right, said Carter. If you can somehow arrange to make it to Cancun, you could probably find some fishing vessels that would help you out and take you further north. You might want to talk to the captain of the freighter, possibly he will have suggestions."

"In the meantime, I need to prepare for the bus trip to Santa Marta. I will need to purchase a bus ticket. I also need a backpack for the trip, instead of this small bag. It would be easier to travel that way. If I have to travel on land by foot, for instance, it would be difficult walking with a suitcase."

"Sure, we can get the ticket for you to leave tomorrow, and I will send someone out for the backpack as well."

Upon the decision to move ahead with the idea of the bus trip, a member of the rebel group was immediately dispatched to purchase the bus ticket and the backpack for the trip to Santa Marta. A plan, similar to retrieving Toru at the airport, was devised to deliver him to the bus terminal in the heart of Caracas the next day. Good timing would put Toru at the bus terminal just before departure time. The plan was starting to evolve.

Carter had proposed that Toru attempt to travel by freighter from Santa Marta. It would probably be easy to smuggle him aboard without passing through customs. A rebel leader, with family members in Santa Marta, offered to transport Toru to the freighter at the seaport. These contacts in Santa Marta were priceless and would be instrumental to the group's success.

It was late, and someone had arrived at the building with a huge amount of food for the men. They all enjoyed the feast, and relaxed knowing that their efforts to transfer the disks to Washington were finally underway. The first part of the journey for Toru had begun and the help that he had encountered was great. He expressed his appreciation to all. He would get some rest this Thursday night, for tomorrow morning, he would prepare to travel to Santa Marta with the disks. Let the mission begin.
Chapter 6

The first leg of his journey, with a destination of Santa Marta, Colombia, Toru was about to start his mission by leaving Venezuela. At the same time, Ricky was flying back to Atlanta late that Sunday afternoon. He hailed a cab as he left the airport terminal, and headed for his apartment. Ricky hated the traffic at the airport. Since his apartment was on the same side of Atlanta as the airport, it was simply more convenient to walk out of the airport terminal, and hail a cab. As frugal as Ricky was, he really disliked paying for parking, or the cab, but his accountant mind was convinced that the cab fare was cheaper in the long run.

When Ricky moved to Atlanta, he looked for an apartment in several areas near his work. He finally decided on a small, single bedroom apartment in Mableton, GA. It had easy access to Interstate 85, and was not too far from his office. The apartment had a little over one thousand square feet with a fairly large bedroom, living room and breakfast area. The kitchen was small and compact, but a size that met his needs. One single small bath finished off the floor plan. Moran had been generous enough to give him five thousand dollars as moving allowance when he was hired. But at that point in his life, Ricky had not accumulated any furnishings, and the act of moving from one place to another, largely consisted of packing his SUV with all of his clothes, and driving to the next destination.

He rented the apartment unfurnished, so, he spent the first few days in Atlanta in a motel to take time to look for furniture. He found a local discount store that specialized in furniture that had been purchased from liquidated furniture stores, some discontinued, or just scratch and dent merchandise. He made a deal with the salesman there and furnished the entire apartment for two thousand dollars, delivered and setup. Everything from a decent sofa and matching chair to a complete bedroom set, with mattress and box springs, and a small dining table with two chairs. The guy even threw in area rugs, a large framed print of a street in Paris, and some table lamps. He found a television at a pawnshop and a table to put it on. Two more days were spent at other discount stores where he bought bed linens, blankets and towels, glassware, dishes, cookware and all the cooking utensils he would ever need for under three hundred dollars. It wasn't a place that would be highlighted in an architectural review magazine, but it would do. All things considered, it was more than sufficient. On top of that, he had some cash left from what Moran had donated. Nicely done, he thought, nicely done.

Now as he was moving out, Moran had come through again with another five thousand dollar moving allowance for his move back to Virginia. Actually, the furniture he had was in good condition, but he certainly would not need it for the guesthouse at Shelby Grove Farm. On top of that, he would pay more to move the stuff to Virginia than it was worth. Mrs. Pearson would also not appreciate the eclectic mix of his collection of furniture of which, one of his old girlfriends had described it as, "early attic." With all of that in mind, Ricky decided to donate the furniture to the Goodwill and take the tax deduction. As an accountant, that made sense.

The cab circled in front of his apartment. Ricky unloaded his suitcase, then paid the driver for his cab fare. He checked on his car in the parking lot in front of the apartment. Everything was in order with the vehicle, so he went in. He put down his bag inside the front door.

He sat down in the chair in the living room and took some time to plan how he would go about unloading all that stuff he had accumulated. He decided he would call Goodwill first thing in the morning to make arrangements for the pickup. He needed boxes to pack up kitchen items and the like, so he made note to buy those on Monday as well. He wanted to talk to the rental agent and see if there were any details he needed to take care of before he left the apartment. With his Monday list complete, Ricky grabbed a cold beer from the refrigerator, took his bag back to the bedroom and unpacked it. In a few days, he would be gone from there, and that chapter in his life would be closed. Overall, he really wouldn't miss Atlanta too much, especially after thinking how nice it would be at Mrs. Pearsons.

On Monday morning, first thing, he dialed 411 for directory assistance and asked for the listings for Goodwill in Merietta, not too far from his apartment. He was connected and inquired about donating his apartment contents. The store clerk said the earliest that they could pickup with a truck would be on Thursday of that week. This was Monday, and Ricky had wanted to be out before then. He wasn't due back to Virginia before the following Monday, so he would just have to wait. He then asked the clerk to schedule the pickup for Thursday, which was confirmed.

Checking his to-do list, Ricky then decided to go over to see Brenda Watson who was the rental agent for the property. He had given his notice a month before to satisfy his lease agreement. He wanted to chat with her about closing the apartment. His mind wandered off for a moment about Brenda. She was of average height and not at all overweight, was about his age, in her mid thirties. She lived alone in the apartment at the rear of the rental office. Many of the tenants knew Brenda as Miss Brenda, and many other tenants, speaking about her behind her back, often referred to her as Mistress Brenda. This was due to her very stern demeanor, and the fact that none of her tenants would want to get behind in their rent, or the bad side of Mistress Brenda's personality would emerge. She always wore crisp white blouses and straight skirts, kept her hair back in a bun and wore those clunky black shoes that were stylish for a while. The most amazing thing about Miss Brenda was her upper structure. Apparently, Miss Brenda was the very first in line when it came to the handing out mammary glands. Hers were not lacking in any regard, in size, shape, or anything else. They were simply incredible.

Ricky always wondered if bras could talk, what would hers have to say. Theorizing that her bra would be forced to play a dual role in its life, one role being a curse, and the other role being lavished with blessings. The curse would be the constant strain on it to support extraordinary weight that those two magnificent globes would produce. On the other hand, the blessings would come from the fact that Mr. Bra would be in constant contact with two of the most fantastic examples of hooters Ricky had ever seen.

As Ricky walked over to the rental office that morning, he promised himself not to stare at Miss Brenda's breasts. It was very difficult to stand there and talk with her normally, and not drop the eyes to view the two mountains below. He would do his very best not to embarrass himself. Entering the office, Miss Brenda was just coming in from her apartment.

"Hi Ricky," she said.

"Hi Miss Brenda, how have you been."

"Very well thanks." she replied.

At that point, Ricky thought that she couldn't be any better as far as her boobs were concerned, but then decided to keep up the polite discussion.

"Good to hear that, I just thought I would drop by to see you, and let you know that I have a Goodwill truck coming over on Thursday to take out most of the stuff in the apartment. I want to leave the apartment as best I can and plan to clean it up completely before I leave. But in the meantime, is it OK for me to put a sign out front of my apartment to give away some furniture, before Thursday?" he asked.

"Don't see any problem with it, as long as you take it down before you leave."

"Oh yes, that I will do for sure, Brenda."

"I will try to clean the place as best I can," he stated.

"That's good, but you know we usually go in and paint after a tenant leaves, so you should just try to leave it broom clean, that would be sufficient."

Miss Brenda leaned down and withdrew a document from a drawer in her desk. It seemed that Mr. Bra was doing a superb job this morning, as the incredible orbs he contained did not sway or shift one bit, even the slightest bit, as she moved about.

"You will need to sign this, it's a vacate sheet, it just states the date you will vacate so we can close your file. It has been very nice to work with you, Ricky, you have always paid your rent on time, and you have been a great tenant."

"Well thank you Brenda, I can imagine how difficult it must be for you to keep everyone in this place up to date on their rent."

"Some of them will never learn, it's a constant thing, but I guess that's what I get paid for it," she replied.

Ricky signed the document, handed it back to her, and wished her well. Miss Brenda had always been there, and it seemed like that job she had was a dead end proposition. She would probably retire from it someday. He didn't even want to think about what her wonderful ta-tas would look like when she got to the age of 65.

"Just put the key in my mail slot when you leave, if I'm not around," she instructed.

"OK, will do, and thanks for everything."

"Thank you." she said, "and if you are ever in this area, stop in and see us."

"I will," he replied, "and take care of yourself."

He really meant take care of those boobs. He didn't say that out loud of course. He had to count on Mr. Bra to hold things up in the future, he thought.

He closed the door behind him and walked back to his apartment. As he was walking, his imagination began its normal wild journey into wonderland. He imagined Miss Brenda as one of those ladies interested in dominating a man in bed. He pictured how she would have him confined, on his back, tied to the bedposts with leather straps and chains. She was only wearing a black leather thong, and a cat like mask. Her boots, with spike heels, were made of black leather, and had those big zippers, that ran all the way up her thighs. Her huge breasts would be completely exposed, and would collectively sway and surge, with each crack of her whip. Playing the complete role of dominatrix, she would demand things of him, knowing full well that he could not comply. His tethers prevented any compliance at all. He feared for his life. She threatened to place her breasts over his face to cut off his air. She would smother him to death with those enormous things.

In a daze thinking about his imaginary suffocation, he almost walked up to the wrong apartment door. Catching himself quickly, he jolted out of his daydream and his sex romp with Miss Brenda. It must be the devil again, he thought. He had to be possessed. That preacher's son thing never seems to go away, he couldn't shake it.

Soon, he left the apartment to take care of the rest of his to-do list for the day. The only item left on the list was to buy boxes he needed to pack up some of his clothing and to box items in the kitchen for Goodwill. He headed down to the shipping store and bought a variety of sizes. On the way back, he picked up a pizza and beer from the super market. Tomorrow, he would box up all of his clothing and toiletries and other personal item. He was sure he would be able to get all that in the SUV.

The next morning his cell phone rang and it was his old friend Barry from Virginia. They caught up on the latest happenings, since they last talked, and eventually Ricky got around to discussing his move to Virginia.

"When are you moving out, Ricky," Barry asked.

"Well, I hope to leave here on Thursday, sometime during the day."

"If you are coming up I-85, why don't you drop by and spend the night here in Roanoke. I have plenty of room, and we could kick back and have a few beers. On top of that, it would break your trip a little, the trip to Virginia from Atlanta is a long haul."

"I might just do that, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind, I look forward to seeing you."

The two men finished their conversation, and Barry made sure that Ricky had his cell phone number. Ricky was actually looking forward to seeing Barry, as it had been a while. He decided that the break in the trip would be good. He would call Barry when he left Atlanta.

After the call, he started packing all of this clothing and personal items. By the end of the day, he had everything packed that he wanted to take with him. He was ready to load the SUV. He drove to a local restaurant, had dinner and returned to the apartment. Later, he packed the SUV with everything except his suitcase. He taped a sign out on the front railing of his porch, in hopes that the neighbors would take some of the items. The sign read, Free Furniture, Wednesday 9:00a.m to 5:00p.m. The more items removed on Wednesday, meant the more time he would save on Thursday. All he had to do at that point was wait.

The next morning he could hear noises from the front of his apartment. He had all but forgotten about the sign that he had put on the railing. Pulling back the shade, to get a better view from the front window, he saw at least ten people in line at his door. It was ten minutes to nine, and the masses had arrived for the furniture. He might as well let them in. All hell was about to break loose.

They could take everything except his suitcase, as far as he was concerned. And, they did. For seven hours people roamed through the apartment. At the end of that time, the place was stripped completely of furniture. The ketchup and mustard along with everything else in refrigerator was packed up and removed by someone. The rest of the beer that he had bought the night before disappeared. Every item from the kitchen cabinets was hauled off, down to and including the shelf paper. What amazed him most was that the commode brush was gone. Even his dirty sheets and his blanket on the bed were taken. Things were moving out so fast that it seemed like a dream. People will take anything that's free, he thought, and this proved it.

It was late on Wednesday when Ricky came to the realization that he would have to sleep somewhere else that night. It was too late to try to drive to Barry's apartment in Roanoke. Trying to skirt Atlanta at rush hour, to head north, would slow him down more than it would any distance he could gain. It was too far to head to Roanoke, so he decided to stay in a nearby motel that night.

Dialing up the Goodwill in Marietta, he broke the bad news to the scheduling clerk there, and the pickup was canceled for the next day. He had previously made arrangements for the electricity and cable to be shut off, so there was nothing left to do except drop the key off at Miss Brenda's office. With any luck, she would be there for him to get one last look at her lovely boobs. Unfortunately, she was not home, nor in the office, as he dropped the key into the mail slot. The memories of her would never leave him, or at least the memories of the lovely ta-tas.

Ricky drove out of the apartment complex, not looking back, and headed for Interstate-85 north. He knew he would find plenty of motels in that area where he could stay and get some rest for his trip to Roanoke on Thursday morning. He checked into one, bought a newspaper at the restaurant there, had dinner, then retired to his room. Tomorrow he would start his trip to a new job and hopefully a better life. He dreaded the drive by himself, but it would be worth it. He would be there before he knew it.
Chapter 7

Friday morning in Caracas arrived, the day that Toru would start his journey to Mrs. Pearson's estate in Virginia. Toru was just one of many couriers that, through the years, trusted the Pearsons completely to handle the transfer of sensitive materials. He didn't personally know any operatives in that area, so Mrs. Pearson was the only option for a secure exchange of the disks to the CIA. Her home was the final destination for his mission.

With bus tickets secured, and all of his personal belongings transferred into a backpack, Toru and the driver of the white sedan backed out of the industrial building and onto the street. After a short trip to the public bus terminal in the center of Caracas, the driver parked the sedan and accompanied Toru to the waiting bus. Quite a bit of activity surrounded them on the loading platform, as the passengers preparing for their journey, passed their luggage to the bus attendant. Everything was loaded into the big storage lockers on the bus. Toru, with his backpack fastened to his chest, seated himself at the rear of the bus. It seemed as if he was the only passenger on the double seat he had selected. Turning his head to look out of the window, he watched the driver of the white sedan fade away into the crowds at the station. Soon the bus began to move as it backed away from the main terminal. He had begun the long trip to Santa Marta.

Toru had purchased a sewing kit in a small shop at the bus terminal prior to his departure. The kit contained just enough thread and needles, along with a small pair of scissors, for him to sew the disks into the lapel areas of the shirt that he had brought along. Heavy embroidery adorned the lapels and the upper back of this shirt. There was also a lining sewn behind the embroidered areas. His plan was to make small slits in the lining of the shirt and conceal the disks under the embroidery. He spent quite some time sewing, passing some of the eighteen hours of the trip to Santa Marta. When his sewing job was complete, Toru found his way to the restroom on the bus and changed into the shirt containing the disks. Stuffing his previous shirt into the backpack, he returned to his seat. Apparently, no one seemed to notice.

The bus stopped at several cantinas along the way. The food was good but Toru only drank bottled beer to avoid the water. He had learned years before to leave the water for the locals. Apparently, they could handle the results of drinking it, but he certainly couldn't.

After a long haul, the bus finally approached the border of Colombia. At the checkpoint, the passengers exited the bus on the Venezuelan side and walked to a building just on the other side of the border. The bus, now empty of passengers, was then driven across the border and stopped. A complete search of the buses, at that point, was usually performed. Passengers would then have their papers checked by other border personnel, and all hand baggage was searched prior to anyone boarding the bus again. All of this usually took about thirty to forty-five minutes.

On this trip however, in Caracas, two older women had the bus driver load several large bags into the storage lockers below the passenger's seating area. These two women, at the checkpoint, approached the Colombian officials and, after a lengthy discussion with them, Toru noticed the women passing money to the them. Prior to reaching the checkpoint, these same women had requested donations from all passengers to bribe the checkpoint officials. Most, including Toru, came forth with small amounts of money. The bribes apparently worked, as everyone noticed that the luggage check never happened. Every bag was removed from the bus but none were checked in any way. Toru was never asked about the backpack.

Soon, all passengers were allowed back on the bus, and all of the bags were reloaded. The bus then proceeded on to Santa Marta without any further delay. Toru sat wondering what might be in the luggage belonging to the two women. Whatever it was, it had been successfully transported across the border without any objection.

On Sunday morning, Toru finally stepped off of the bus and onto the loading platform at the bus terminal in Santa Marta. Even though he had been in Santa Marta on several other occasions, he was not familiar with the residential areas. He had therefore been instructed not to take any type of public transportation. He was to hire a cab to take him to the address that had been written down for him by his contacts in Caracas. Outside the terminal, he noticed a row of waiting cabs. As is the custom there, Toru began to negotiate the fare with one of the drivers. He knew from experience that these negotiations were the norm, and the fare for the taxi should always be arranged in advance. Once the fare was established, Toru got into the cab. Immediately, the driver headed out for his destination in central Santa Marta.

The cab, speeding along the busy streets of Santa Marta, finally arriving in front of the address that was on the slip of paper. This was the home of relatives of the rebel operative in Caracas. These people would be his contacts in Santa Marta. He would require their help for the next leg of his journey, the trip north to Mexico, then on to the U.S.

Paying the driver, he stepped out of the taxi. The driver pulled away and the cab disappeared down the street. Toru walked to the door of the house. As he approached, an elderly woman opened the door. Toru spoke to her, in her native language. He called out the names of the rebel operatives in Caracas. He told her that her relatives had sent him there. She immediately welcomed him inside the home.

Toru was ushered into a room where there were several men, who inquired of their relatives in Caracas. He responded by explaining that they all appeared well, and doing excellent work there. All of them agreed that they would do anything to help their cause. Toru learned that this was a family group that had all come to Colombia from Venezuela. While in Venezuela, one of them had been discovered as a rebel leader. If he had not escaped with his family, he would have surely been executed.

One of the men explained to Toru that had spoken with his counterpart in Caracas by phone regarding his arrival. A plan was devised as to how Toru would leave the country without detection. Since one of the rebel family members worked in the port of Santa Marta, he was confident that he could make arrangements with the captain of a cargo ship currently docked there. From Santa Marta, that ship was scheduled to head north to Cuba, then sail back to Belize, before turning south again, to Colon, Panama. Passing through the Panama Canal, Japan was the ship's final destination. If this plan worked out, Toru would avoid the difficulty of traveling by land in the Central American countries. This could be one lucky day for Toru.

This passage was arranged that afternoon by phone, as a direct result of some secret negotiations with the ship's captain, and another person at the port. There would be no documents to produce, or the usual clearing through customs. Toru would pay the captain directly for the fee for his passage.

The plan evolved. Toru was to be driven through a rear entrance of the port by car, taken to a warehouse, then he was hidden in a small container. This container was one of several other containers that would be lifted from the dock, to the deck of the ship. Once Toru was safely on board, and the ship was under way, he would make his way to the captain's quarters to make payment for his passage. The ship was due to sail that very evening for Cuba. The group realized the need to move quickly.

Within the hour, his Santa Marta contacts wished Toru well. He and the port worker drove away from the residential area in a small car, headed to the docks in the northeast part of Santa Marta. On the route to the shipping port, they entered a small industrial area with buildings similar to the ones in Caracas. Driving down this street, shots could be heard from the street ahead. The driver stopped the car. Just then a sniper fired a shot at their car and struck the roof just above the driver's head. The driver raced the vehicle into a driveway between two buildings, then stopped at a roll up door. They were essentially boxed in.

Toru instructed the driver to remain in the car as he jumped out, and ran to the front edge of the building. Trying to assess the situation, he peered around the corner. It was apparent that a gang fight was in progress at that location. Colombia had years of internal unrest, and despite the efforts of many administrations, there appeared to be no end to the drug violence from the cartels. Gangs that supported the cartels were throughout Central America and Mexico.

It was no surprise at this interruption of his trip, but he needed to resolve the issue of making it to the cargo ship in time for the departure. Just then, a white cargo van headed down the street, coming in from the same direction as Toru and his driver. Another shot rang out, and this time, aim from the sniper being a little better, a bullet pierced the windshield of the van just missing the driver. The driver, swerved to the right, stopped the vehicle, blocking the driveway where Toru and his driver were trapped. With his rifle in hand, the driver of the van jumped out of the vehicle. Using the open driver's door as a shield, he pointed his rifle at the sniper. He fired a shot and missed. The sniper then retaliated, and with the use of his scope, unloaded a bullet that hit its mark. The driver, having been struck in the head, collapsed on the driver's side of the van, and died instantly.

Toru, witnessing all of this in front of him, needed to take immediate action. He calculated that the sniper's attention, since his execution of the van driver, had turned to other areas of the fight on the street. Toru was correct. Soon, the gunmen on the ground had again begun to open up on the sniper. The sniper had good cover on the roof, and it was difficult for the street fighters to get in a good shot. Toru, now moving quickly around the cargo van from the rear, needed to move the van out of the way of the driveway.

The driver of the cargo van was slumped over the floor of the driver's side. Toru quickly pulled driver's body out onto the street. He then moved it to side near a building. The gun battle between the sniper and the men on the ground continued, as Toru grabbed the driver's rifle and waited for the precise moment to take out the sniper. Unaware that Toru was watching from the truck, the sniper made the mistake of stepping out in view long enough for Toru to take his shot. As Toru had planned his assault, the round struck the sniper directly in the head. With the impact, the rifle bolted from sniper's hands and sailed over the roof to the ground. That event was quickly followed shortly by the deceased sniper, duplicating the path of his rifle, and he fell three stories to the street below.

For the moment, the gunfire ceased. The ground forces seemed to be scurrying around to determine the situation. Toru jumped into the cargo van and backed it up against the curb, out of the way of the center of the street, and away from the driveway. After parking the van, he noticed a large bag, a duffel bag, in the passenger's seat next to him. The top of the bag was open slightly, and he saw U.S. currency strapped in bundles inside. He had no idea how much money was there, but it was considerable. There must have been thirty or so bundles in there, and he estimated it to be in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. He had no time to count this cash but simply took the bag back to the waiting driver and the sedan in the alley.

Toru pitched the bag in the rear seat of the sedan, and instructed the driver to back out of the driveway. The driver did so immediately and turned the sedan in the direction that it had originally come. Soon the sedan was around the next corner and away from the gang fighting. They rushed down various back streets, then arrived at a back gate of the port administration building.

The driver was related to the guard, who allowed them access into the port area. Down a service road and around a few more buildings, they arrived at the dock. At the dock, there was a very large tanker, flying the Japanese flag. Toru was taken into a warehouse area where he took the newly found duffel bag, along with his own backpack, and walked into a small container, as he had been instructed. The container would soon be loaded on the ship, in which he would remain until the ship was under way. A forklift then took the pallet of the containers to an area where, a crane lifted the load onto the deck of the ship.

Toru later learned that the Colombian government had undercover inspectors, and other personnel around these ships, stationed there to prevent drug smuggling, and people entering or leaving the country illegally. Without the help of the relatives of the Venezuelan rebels, he would have never made it on the ship.

Within twenty minutes, Toru could feel the ship beginning to move, as a tug took it away from the dock. He could hear the engines start, idling at first, they soon began to increase their speed. The ship was under way. Pulling the latch on the container, the door opened, and he set about to find his way to the bridge and locate the captain. He passed several Japanese sailors who he greeted in their polite fashion. At his request, he was led to the bridge, and was introduced to the captain in his native Japanese language.

The Japanese captain and Toru began to talk, and the captain inquired why Toru was on the ship headed north. Toru explained that he was working for the Japanese government in conjunction with the United States. He produced his Japanese identification card with the appropriate security stamps, well known to the captain. Prior to his career in shipping, the captain had been a high level naval officer in Japan. He also produced his own identification card, with security stamps, which he continued to hold to that day.

Toru, after seeing the card, told the captain that he was on a mission to deliver information to the U.S. It was urgent that this mission be successful, and that the United States government had requested the assistance from Japan in that effort.

"How are you going to the U.S.?" Inquired the captain.

"I hope to work my way up the gulf coast of Mexico. By working with captains of fishing boats, I could move about from place to place. I cannot fly, or take any other mode of transportation, that would cause me to pass through customs and across any of the borders. Even by bus, the trip would possibly take many days. I don't have the time."

"You are correct, that could take a very long time, and possibly be very dangerous," replied the captain.

"I don't have any alternatives except the fishermen, at this point," said Toru.

"Maybe you do, maybe you do," repeated the captain.

The captain went on to say that he knew of the yacht Sea Flower, which was sailing in the waters near Cancun, and could possibly be of assistance. The Sea Flower flies the Japanese flag, and she is the property of the Japanese Navy. She is used occasionally by the Japanese royalty.

"I can contact the Sea Flower and inquire if passage could be made to transport you to waters off the southern gulf coast of the United States."

"I would be most grateful," replied Toru.

"It is my honor to assist you," said the captain, slightly bowing in Japanese fashion. "I will advise you of what I learn from the Sea Flower."

Toru then was ushered into a VIP stateroom. The freighter churned north to Cuba as Toru put his backpack and the duffel bag on the bed. He had given some thought to the money in the bag and how it was being transported in that cargo van back in Santa Marta. Since it was all U.S. currency in large bills, the courier was apparently moving the money to the Mexican cartels, from their base in Colombia.

Since cocaine traffic had picked up considerably and flowing into the United States, the Colombian cartels had learned to work in conjunction with the cartels in Mexico to move their goods. Monies exchanged would be in the form of cash, and the couriers were the vehicles for those exchanges. Toru and his driver had walked into a gang fight, which may or may not have had a connection to the money, but nevertheless, he now owned a duffel bag full of cash.

Toru had been well trained regarding tracking devices and he was more than concerned about one that would have been placed in the duffel bag. He dumped the money out on the bed. He was astounded to see that there was more money there than he first thought. There were at least thirty-five or forty straps, some of which consisted of thousand dollar bills. The amount of one strap, of thousand dollar bills, would be one hundred thousand dollars. All in all, he calculated that there was over a one and a half million dollars just sitting there on top of his bed.

He examined the bag and checked all the seams in the material and the bottom of the duffel bag for any signs of the tracking device. These devices have evolved in their capabilities over the years and were also quite small as well. Some devices measured less than two inches, and one half of an inch thick.

Communicating with cell towers, the devices use the GPS system for location co-ordinates. The electronics have been so well thought out, and updated on newer models, that the battery life would last for weeks. With a weak or non-existent cell signal, and for predetermined times set by the user, the devices are designed to shut down, and enter a sleep mode. With strong signals, or with instructions from its internal clock, the device would become active. This would allow communications with the nearest cell tower. A person could simply call the tracking device by its cell phone number and receive co-ordinates.

Finding no evidence of any tracking device in the duffel bag, Toru took no chances. Opening the stateroom window, he pitched the empty bag out into the rolling wake the ship was producing, and in an instant, it had gone to the deep. Toru packed all of the money neatly into his backpack along with his few personal items. The money and his personal items completely filled it.

Toru could now rest for a while, as the shipped steamed toward Cuba. Within thirty-six hours, sometime Wednesday morning, the ship would be in the waters near Cancun and Cuba. Depending on what the captain could do to help, he would have to devise a plan to proceed northward. But for now, he would have to wait.

Toru had a false confidence in thinking that there was no tracking device. There was one, buried in one of the stacks of money, now packed away in his backpack. The cartel's intent was to track the money, and the courier, as they worked their way north through Mexico. By using the same principle as cutting out a notch, from the pages of a book to hide a key, they cleverly used that principle to make a notch in a stack of fake bills. By gluing bills together at their centers, and once gluing was complete, a notch was cut, just large enough for the tracking device to reside. Stacking good bills over and under the fake stack, then strapping the bundle, provided the home for the GPS tracking device. Toru normally did not make many mistakes. He had made a big one this time, and would realize the results later.
Chapter 8

Ricky had an early wake up call on Thursday morning at 7:00am, in his motel, on the western side of Atlanta. He had not slept well, as the motel mattress was very uncomfortable. He promised himself an extra cup of coffee to take off that edge that the poor accommodations had caused. After a shower and shave, he made his way to the motel office, paid his bill, then went on to the restaurant. The coffee was steaming hot, fresh, and very delicious. Breakfast, and extra coffee, did their job. Feeling much better, he walked his way back to his SUV. Knowing that the trip to Roanoke was about seven hours, he had better get moving.

Heading up I-285, he worked his way around Atlanta, the big metropolitan city in which he had lived over the past two and one half years. The only nightlife he had seen, during the time in Atlanta, was with his ex-girlfriend. They would go to concerts in the city, or attend special shows there, have dinner out, and so forth. For the most part though, he spent most of his time working at the plant, and the weekends were not too exiting, as his number friends in Atlanta were few. He had really been happier in Richmond, which was half the size of Atlanta. Even though the people of Richmond were reported to be standoffish, and even snobbish, he never felt that way, and enjoyed his time there.

Traveling along, he tried listening to the car radio to pass the time, and would stop at an occasional rest area or gas station. Time seemed to drag, on as he passed through Charlotte before lunch, then on to Greensboro. He hated this trip by himself, but he kept driving.

By four thirty in the afternoon, approaching Roanoke, Ricky called Barry's cell phone.

"Hello," Barry answered.

"Hey dude, I'm just coming into Roanoke, can you give me some directions?"

"Yea, glad you made it Ricky, sure where are you?"

Barry talked him through some easy directions. Ricky had no problems following Barry's route, and soon he was in the area of the apartment. One more call to Barry's cell phone and Ricky drove into the complex and parked the SUV. He had made it.

Barry had made his way home early that day expecting Ricky. As soon as Ricky pulled up to his apartment, Barry went out to greet him.

"Dude, you mean to tell me you have everything you own in that back of that car?" asked Barry, looking in the back of the SUV.

"Sure, the bedroom suite is in the middle of all that stuff," laughed Ricky.

"I hope you don't plan to bring all that crap into my place."

"No, dumb ass, I just have one suitcase."

"Thank goodness." Barry smiled. "Come on in and have a beer. I bet you are tired driving all the way from Atlanta."

"You have that right, I hated it. I thought I would never get here."

"Well, you made it and you can take a break now."

Ricky and Barry proceeded into the apartment. Cracking open a couple of beers, Barry handed one to Ricky proposing a toast.

"May your new job be a total success, here's to you Ricky."

The two clicked their beer bottles together and each took a sip.

"Thanks Barry, I appreciate it."

"Hope it works for you kid," Barry said.

They spent the next couple of hours eating dinner and drinking Barry's beer, and talking about good times they had in Richmond. Soon Ricky found himself nodding off on the sofa. Barry woke him up, and led him to the guestroom. Ricky prepared for bed. It had been an incredibly long day. He was just plain exhausted.

Barry had taken the next day, Friday, off from work. He and Ricky spent the time at the pool in the apartment complex and later went to a pizza restaurant, downed a few beers and enjoyed a fresh pizza. Ricky had really enjoyed his stay there and it seemed to be a pick up from his moments of depression about the move. Ricky, realizing though, people are naturally adverse to change. He just decided that his down mood was simply due to that fact, and that he should become more optimistic about things. He decided to develop a positive attitude from then on.

The trip from Roanoke to Shelby Grove Farm was only a couple of hours, so the next morning, Ricky would drive the final leg on his journey to a new life. Originally due to arrive on Sunday morning, Ricky was sure Mrs. Pearson wouldn't mind his early arrival. If for some reason there was a problem, he could always check into a motel for that night.

The time at Barry's had been fun and a lift for Ricky. Since they would now be living near each other, Ricky promised Barry that he would spend some time on weekends in Roanoke when he was able. Later the next morning Ricky packed his bag, bid farewell to Barry, thanking him for his hospitality, and drove his SUV out of the complex. In a few hours he would begin a new chapter in his life. Inside he was nervous, anxious, and excited. This mixture of emotions was a little strange to him, he had not experienced it too often, but he decided to switch his thoughts to something else. He needed to concentrate on the trip to northern Virginia. It was Saturday. There wasn't much traffic, since it was not a workday, so he made good time.
Chapter 9

The Japanese freighter, with Toru on board, steamed northbound, approaching Cuba, as Ricky cleared out his apartment and made his way to Virginia. So far, with the help of the rebels in Venezuela and their family members, as well as with the help of the captain of the freighter, Toru had moved along on his mission quickly, and without too much trouble. To him, this luck seemed too good to be true.

The next leg seemed even more unbelievable, when Toru learned that the captain, the evening before, had been in contact with the Sea Flower, the Japanese yacht then sailing in the waters off Cancun. She was changing her heading to meet the freighter, and had agreed to transport Toru from the area of Cuba, to a point near the Louisiana coast. A plan had been devised to smuggle Toru into the United States by means of a fishing boat. An escort had also been arranged to take him through New Orleans, to a small airport outside the city. Toru's last leg of the journey would consist of the flight directly to the airstrip at Shelby Grove Farm. This would eliminate the long journey through Mexico and onward. The time saved was considerable. With any luck, he would arrive at the farm on Friday afternoon, just in time for a drink with Mrs. Pearson, and make the delivery of the disks. Maggie Pearson had been advised, through Moran, that Toru would be delivering the disks. Moran, anxious for the delivery confirmation, asked her to call him immediately upon receipt.

Suddenly the freighter slowed, then came to a complete stop. The engines shut down and the big vessel drifted in the calm gulf waters. The captain called for Toru to report to the bridge as soon as possible. Toru immediately responded, grabbed his backpack and hurried to the bridge. In the distance, Toru recognized the thumping sound of helicopter blades as they struck the air. The sound became louder and louder as the aircraft headed in their direction.

On the bridge, the captain explained to Toru, that the approaching helicopter had been dispatched for him. Sent by the captain of the Sea Flower, miles to the north, this aircraft would speed up the transfer. The captain explained, since there was no landing pad on the freighter, Toru would have to climb a rope ladder that would be dropped over the main deck. Toru realizing that this part his journey would soon be over, expressed his appreciation to the captain, for all that he had done. He left the bridge as the captain wished him well. Toru moved to into position on the large deck of the freighter, and with the helicopter hovering directly over him, the pilot opened the passenger door, and dropped a rope ladder. To everyone's surprise, Toru quickly scurried up the ladder, and within a very few seconds, he was safely inside the still hovering helicopter, which quickly turned away from the ship in the direction of the yacht, the Sea Flower.

A flight of about forty minutes took the pair of aviators over the waters to the Sea Flower, north of Cancun. The huge yacht had every modern convenience that could be imagined, including a landing pad for the helicopter, near the rear deck. The Sea Flower was quietly anchored awaiting the helicopter's return flight. The captain of the yacht, waited near the landing pad to greet Toru as he stepped from the aircraft. Toru was shown his stateroom as the yacht began a course northbound to Louisiana. Quite fast for her size, the Sea Flower could make excellent time. The quicker the better, thought Toru, he was really moving now.

As the yacht moved closer to the Louisiana coast, having covered the six hundred miles by Thursday noon from Cancun, signals from a few cell towers began to ping the tracking device hidden in Toru's backpack. But the GPS signals were weak and the device would shut down quickly. The signals would come and go, but no transfer of coordinates took place. As Toru was being transferred to a fishing vessel that Friday morning, the device picked up a stronger signal, changing its sleep status to a status of being totally activated. The device determined the current location from the global positioning satellites and sent its signal to the nearby cell tower. Luckily for Toru, no one was tracking that particular shipment of cash. The cartel operatives in Colombia, due to the time span that the device had not been activated, considered the device as having been destroyed and the cash gone. Should someone have the correct software, this device would appear as active on a tracking list and alert a user. Again, lucky for Toru, no one was looking at the time, but like the old saying, there is nothing more constant than change. The cartel wasn't about to write off over a million dollars.

In the middle of the Louisiana marsh, Bayou Barataria, just south of New Orleans, the fishing vessel, with Toru on board, docked at a marina. Toru was quickly escorted to a waiting car that immediately headed northward to New Orleans. From there they went north of the city to Slidel, Louisiana, where a small plane waited at a private landing strip.

With Toru safely on board, the pilot took off and headed the plane northbound in the direction of Virginia. In the meantime, again, the tracking device was activated and working properly. Alerts had been sent as soon as Toru had been close enough to the coast to pick up signals from a cell tower. Cartel operatives tracking such shipments carried laptops that could connect to remote servers, and with the software that was installed, be able to pinpoint multiple devices at the same time. An alert was picked up in Texas reporting Toru's device. This information was relayed to other operatives in the New Orleans area. An immediate search for the cash shipment began, but Toru was moving too quickly. Once in the air, the signals would come and go and the device would spend more time in the sleep mode and less time sending alerts. The operatives did see a trend however, as the plane moved northward. With intense scrutiny of the movements, their calculations gave a very good indication of the speed and direction of the device. Communications with cartel operatives were made along that route by phone. They were closing in on Toru and the money.

The small aircraft touched down in Charlotte, NC for fuel and quickly took off again heading for Virginia. By three thirty that afternoon, the plane started its decent and landed at the airstrip of Shelby Grove Farm. Toru, bidding the pilot farewell, walked to the road leading to the mansion. The small plane soon took off, as Toru watched, as it made a heading to the south, and soon disappeared.

Toru had the disks for Mrs. Pearson. He had removed them from the shirt from which they had been sewn while he was on the Sea Flower. He had them tucked neatly in his backpack, which he now carried as he walked to the main house. Harry, having known Toru from years past, spoke to him as he walked past the stable.

"Toru, nice to see you. You haven't been here in several years." Harry said smiling. "I saw the plane landing and thought it might be a visitor for Maggie."

"It has been a while, how have you been Harry?" Toru inquired.

"Doing well, just getting older by the day."

"I know, I too, am really beginning to feel the age now."

Harry and Toru chatted for a few more minutes. Toru then continued his walk to the main house. Harry had alerted Mrs. Pearson on the intercom that Toru had arrived and she went out to meet him as he approached. Toru had not seen Mrs. Pearson for several years, which was before the death of Senator Pearson

"Toru, I have been expecting you, my old friend. How are you?"

"Hello Maggie, I am well and you look very well."

"I am doing fine," she said. "But things are really not the same since Harold died."

"I was so sorry to hear about his death, he was such a good man," replied Toru.

"Yes he was," she said, "I miss him so. It has been hard trying to keep the farm going, but I manage somehow. I am trying to keep it like he always insisted that it be maintained."

"Looks like you have done an admirable job, Maggie," Toru replied.

"Well let's go in and have a drink."

"You know, I have been looking forward to that. I knew you would have a drink for us about this time of day," declared Toru.

"Well, it's that time."

They walked on into the house and Toru followed her into the study, the familiar room at the end of the foyer. Having had been in that room many times, with both the late Senator and Mrs. Pearson, he was in a trusted place. The room looked exactly like he had remembered it. Mrs. Pearson had kept everything on the farm just as it been in the days when Senator Pearson managed things.

Mrs. Pearson offered Toru a seat in one of the leather wing back chairs. Sinking back into the large piece of comfortable furniture, he seemed so small. He appeared as a child, and the chair swallowed him up. Mrs. Pearson opened the famous desk drawer and withdrew two glasses and the bourbon.

"I hope you don't mind bourbon, Toru, I am fresh out of sake at the moment," she laughed.

"With this trip Maggie, I feel like a cowboy, the way things have gone, so the bourbon would be just what the doctor ordered."

"Terrific," she said as she passed him his glass."

"So tell me about your trip," Mrs. Pearson inquired.

Toru had no problem discussing his mission with her, as she was one of the most trusted people in the business. As he was explaining how he had learned in Japan, of the mission and the story behind the disks, he got up from the chair, and placed the three disks on the large desk in front of him. As Toru returned to his leather chair, Mrs. Pearson leaned over from her side of the desk and took the disks.

"Oh, I see," she said, "the number 1, then 2 and K for key."

"Exactly," Toru replied.

Toru went on to describe his trip and how easy it was compared to other missions. The only hitch in the mission was the day on the street in Santa Marta when he had to put that sniper out of his misery.

"Better him than you, Toru," said Maggie, interrupting.

"And it gave the trip a little excitement, the rest of it was rather dull, except the time spent on Sea Flower," he said, "that was great, everything Japanese, I thought I was home in Japan."

Toru having put the backpack down beside his chair when he had come into the study, Mrs. Pearson noticed it at first, but later, did not pay anymore attention to it, as they talked.

"Maggie, there is something I need to ask of you."

"What's that Toru?" she replied.

"Toru lifted the backpack into his lap and opened the top revealing the enormous amount of money inside.

"My heavens Toru, where did you get all that cash?"

"Well I don't think it came from the heavens, it most likely came from hell."

"Seriously, what is that all about."

"Well, do you remember about my story about the sniper I picked off in Santa Marta?"

"Yes, it was the only enjoyment you had on your trip," she said smiling.

"Right, it was. Well, this money was in the van along with the dead driver that the sniper had taken out. When I moved the van to get it out of the way, there was a duffel bag in the passenger's, with seat with all of this cash. I transferred all of its contents to this backpack for security reasons."

"So, where do I come in?"

"I need for you to keep this money for me for a while, maybe a month, until I can come back and pick it up. I know you have a safe place around here somewhere, or at least you used to. The Senator kept something for me for a while in this house. I would be grateful if you could help me. In return, I will give you a portion of it."

"Sure, Toru, you have been a good friend for many years and you know the Senator and I always trusted you. You must have a good reason. I will just agree to help you without a question. Hand me your glass Toru, you and I both could use a refill."

"Maggie, the money will help with my retirement, I have decided to make this my last mission. I want to enjoy the rest of my life."

With that, Toru got up from his chair and handed Mrs. Pearson his glass. He placed the backpack by the side of her desk as she filled his glass with bourbon. She then handed him the glass. Just then, the sound of a car engine could be heard outside the house.

"Who is that?" asked Toru.

"That's Harry leaving in his old truck. Don't know if you remember, but Harry goes to town every weekend to see his girlfriend Delores. Harry has a bit of a wild streak in him. As soon as he hits town, he starts drinking and doesn't stop until it is time for him to come back home. Been doing it for years. I can't stop him, gave up a long time ago. He will be back Sunday and sleep it off, then do it all over again next weekend. You would think that, after all this time, he would get tired of it all," she said.

"I remember the Senator mentioning something about Harry a long time ago, now that you bring it up. I just couldn't be stuck in a rut like that, not me," Toru responded.

"Not much a life for sure," she said. "Maria tries to keep him healthy by trying to feed him to death. That's about all we can do."

"By the way Maggie, where is Maria this afternoon?"

"Oh, she is visiting her sister in town. She had been ill lately and Maria tries to visit to cheer her up."

"Sorry I missed her."

"Aren't you staying here tonight?" Maggie asked Toru. "I had the guest house fixed up for you. Maria will be back on Sunday afternoon, so you stay and see her before you leave. After all, I will be here by myself if you don't stay."

"I would be honored to stay, Maggie."

"Fantastic, that will be nice."

For the next thirty minutes or so, Toru and Maggie talked about old times and the many transactions which he and the late Senator had been engaged. Toru thanked Mrs. Pearson for her help in keeping the cash, and asked her if she would keep that part of their deal private. She agreed not to say a word to anyone and assured him that the cash would be safe there until he could return.

"I will put the cash away for you Toru, and I will call Moran and let him know that I have the disks. He has been waiting for them. You really weren't expected until next week. Your trip was a quick one this time, you did an excellent job for your government."

"Thank you Maggie, I don't get too many complements about my work.
Chapter 10

As Toru and Maggie were going over old times in the study of the mansion, cartel gang members had been tracking the cash in the backpack that now rested at the side of Mrs. Pearson's desk. There had been many communications about that cash over the past two days, as gang members talked back and forth with each other on cell phones. It was difficult attempting to determine the next location to monitor. As the device left New Orleans, they knew without a doubt that it was in the air. When the plane landed for fuel, the airport was pinpointed.

The device hidden in the cash had been doing exactly what it was designed to do. It would sleep for fifteen minutes, then become active on the closest cell phone tower. If the internal modem of the device was called from another cell phone, it would display or text the coordinates to the caller. It seemed that every time that the gang members would hone in on device, it had moved to a more northern location. But now, the device had been at one location for over two hours. Gang members around that area had been contacted, and one of them, near there, had just turned into the driveway at the farm. Spotting the huge house ahead, the driver parked his black sedan off to the side of the driveway. He opened his laptop that was plugged into the power outlet on the car, then re-checked the coordinates for the cash. There had been no change in the device's location over the last transmission. He closed the laptop, grabbed his pistol, which had been resting on the passenger's seat, and left the car heading for the house.

Comfortable, just talking, Maggie and Toru continued their visit in the study. On the outside of the house, the gang member was about to become an intruder as he surveyed his target. He walked around the side of the house looking in the windows as he went along to determine the layout. He found no one in the first several rooms. Near the rear of the building, he could faintly hear voices. As he neared the study, he could see Mrs. Pearson sitting at the desk with her back to the window. Across from her, in a chair facing the desk, he saw Toru. He was sure that the money was there, somewhere in that room.

Moving around to the rear of the house, he saw the pool, the guesthouse and all that contained the big entertaining area. In the center of the back of the mansion, were double doors, leading to the foyer, off from which, he assumed he could gain access to the study. The intruder very quickly entered the rear door, quietly closing it behind him. The door to the study was open. He could hear the two voices very clearly then. Maggie and Toru had never heard the intruder at all, and were totally surprised to see him enter the study door with his pistol in his right hand. He pointed it directly at Toru.

"Where is the damn money?" the intruder yelled.

Just then, he spotted the open duffel that rested beside the big desk. The money was very visible you could see the top row of bundles had been arranged neatly.

"There it is," he screamed, and with this, he aimed the pistol at Toru and shot him directly in his chest. Mrs. Pearson began screaming as Toru slumped onto the floor. He was fatally injured from the shot. The slug had gone through his heart. His heart stopped and he soon expired.

The intruder demanded that Mrs. Pearson move away from the money. She stepped to the side of the desk screaming for him to get out of there. She moved again, slightly in his direction, and the intruder, reacting to the movement, fired a shot at her. The bullet struck her external jugular vein on her right side. She collapsed in shock. Now on the floor, she would come and go, in and out of consciousness, as she began to bleed heavily from her injury.

Immediately, the intruder walked over to the desk, leaning over to retrieve the backpack from the side of the desk. He glanced at Mrs. Pearson as if to evaluate her condition. Seeing the ever increasing pool of blood, and thinking that she was dead or dying, he turned his attention to the backpack once more. Just then, he heard a whisper from her lips. He turned facing her once more, to see what was going on. She had pulled out a .22 derringer from the top of her dress, mustered enough strength to raise her right arm and squeeze the trigger. Her aim was still good, even in this current terrible circumstance. The round landed almost exactly where she had aimed, just to the right of dead center of the intruder's forehead. He released the bag and dropped dead on the floor.

"You bastard," she said, "You bastard."

Soon her last breath was taken, as a result of the lack of blood. She had only lasted for a little more than five minutes. She will now meet the Senator who had gone on before her, rest in peace, dear lady, rest in peace.
Chapter 11

Ricky had really enjoyed his time in Roanoke with Barry, and that Saturday morning trip from Roanoke to the farm was rather enjoyable. That area of the country is so beautiful, with the Blue Ridge Mountains as a backdrop. His trip seemed short as the scenery along the way took his attention from the driving time.

Finally, he was steering his SUV into the main driveway of the farm. As he proceeded up the driveway, he noticed the black sedan parked along the side. At the time, he didn't pay too much attention to it, not speculating in his mind as to why it was there. He drove around to the rear of the house and pulled into the garage bay that Mrs. Pearson had assigned to him. Later, he would unload everything, but first he would find Mrs. Pearson to let her know that he had arrived. Walking through the garage, then out beside the pool, he headed to the rear main door of the house. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. He turned the knob, and sure enough, it was unlocked. Thinking that Mrs. Pearson was somewhere in the house, he entered the door and yelled out her name. With no answer, he entered the foyer from the back door and walked a few steps to the study just as the cartel gang member had done that prior evening.

Ricky, turning to look into the study, gasped as he saw the three of them, all on the floor dead. He could see the derringer in Mrs. Pearson hand and the pistol in the gang member's hand. Not knowing the two men in the room, he could not figure out the sequence of events that lead up to this horrible situation. He decided though, that he was not going to stay around to try to figure things out. He was going to get the hell out of there. He ran out the rear door to the pool, stopping only to get his breath, and trying to compose himself. He could hear and feel his heart beating, which seemed as if it was thumping a thousand times a minute. He had never experienced anything like this, and, for the moment, had no idea of what to do next.

He got back in his car and drove down to the stable looking for Harry, but of course, Harry was nowhere to be found. He then remembered Harry's routine with Delores. He was in town, probably full of booze at the moment. Then, where was Maria? It was Saturday, the weekend, and she was no doubt off in town as well. What would he do, should he call 911? After a few minutes, he became more composed. He then thought about Mr. Moran and Jake. What would they do? His mind racing, a thought came to him that this awful situation may have something to do with national security issues.

Remembering that Jake had given him a slip of paper with his cell phone number, Ricky dug into his wallet, and finally found it. Dialing Jake, there was one ring, then two, and finally he could clearly hear the now familiar voice on the other end that he needed to hear.

"Hello," Jake said, answering the phone.

"Hey, it's me, Ricky," he said, with his voice cracking.

"Ricky what's up brother, you sound funny."

Ricky, hardly being able to talk without gasping through the conversation, conveyed to Jake the awful thing that he had just witnessed. When he was finished describing the scene, there was a very, very long pause on the other end of the line.

"Jake, are you still there?"

After a moment, Jake responded very quietly. "Yes, I'm still here."

Realization struck Ricky quickly about what he had just told Jake. He had just explained to Jake, that the woman who had helped raise him, and who he so much loved and admired, had died from a gun shot wound, murdered in her own home.

"Jake, I am so sorry, so very sorry," Ricky said, trying to rectify the situation.

Another long pause from Jake, in shock at what he had heard, was trying to sort through all of this information. His heart was breaking with the news. Then, his thoughts suddenly reversed themselves. The thoughts of the love that his Aunt Maggie had given him through the years turned immediately to his mother. How would he tell her, he knew he was the one with the job of breaking this news. His heart sunk just then, and he got sick to his stomach. This big strong man who was like steel and could do anything, had just melted down completely with the thought of how his mother would react. Only he could feel that emotion. Ricky was smart enough to realize that this moment in Jake's life was no less than traumatic. He remained silent on the other end of the line.

Jake tried to regain his composure as he began to think of the incident at Aunt Maggie's, and why it happened. Why were there two people in the room with Maggie? Why were they all shot? He must call Moran at once. This incident could have greater implications other than just a simple breaking and entering.

"Ricky, are you there, brother?"

"Yea, I'm here Jake," Ricky quietly responding.

"I have to call Moran right now, I will call you back in ten minutes."

Ricky made sure that Jake had his cell phone number. They ended their call and Ricky waited. He didn't want to tell Jake that he was in the garage and not in the house. He didn't want Jake to think of him as some sort of a wimp, but he just couldn't face staying in the room with three deceased people. When he was growing up, he would avoid the funerals of his father's parishioners simply because he could not stand to see how fake the funeral directors had done up their clients. It all seemed like some dream going into a funeral home and looking into a casket. The bodies were just shells of the person. Despite the makeup and attention to detail, they still looked very dead to Ricky.

Ricky waited the ten minutes, then fifteen, and began to get edgy. Why would Jake take so long to call back? What would he do if he didn't? Should he call the police or just leave? All of the questions seemed to swirl in his head. His cell phone rang after another few minutes and it was Jake on the other end of the line.

"Brother, where are you now?"

"I'm in my car, in the garage, Jake."

"Just talked with Moran, and there are some very important disks that he has to recover. Seems like Aunt Maggie was supposed to have them delivered to her and then call Moran. He hadn't heard from her, but he wasn't expecting anyway, for another week, so he said. The Asian man you saw in the room was the courier, Toru, or so Moran believes. We need to get those disks before anyone else does."

"What kind of disks?"

"Computer disks, three of them. They are supposed to be smaller than a normal CD size."

"I didn't see anything like that when I was in there."

"Well, you are going to have to go back in there and look."

"I can't do that. I am not going back in that room. I have a thing about stuff like that. I am just not going back in there."

"Look brother, Moran and I are counting on you. You are just going to get the balls to get those disks. Don't wimp out on me on this, Ricky, just get the disks."

"Where are they in there?"

"I don't know. If I were there, I would look for them. That's what you have to do, dummy, just look for them, look until you find them."

"Jake, I am not going in and stepping around all those bodies just to look for some stupid computer disks, and that is that."

"Quit the crap Ricky. Just do what I say. There is some other stuff you have to do. You are not going to just get by with picking up those disks."

"Don't tell me I have to touch any of those bodies."

"No, but you have to get something out of her safe. And, take out any paperwork you can find in the study."

"Her safe? What safe?"

"There is a safe built into the wall behind her portrait. You will have to open the safe and get everything out of it, absolutely everything.

"Why can't you come down here and do all this, I just can't do it."

"We don't have time. You have to go in and at least try. I will be on the cell phone while you are in there, if that would give you more courage. I am going to be on my way down there in a few minutes. It will take some time to get there, and I will have to leave almost as soon as I arrive. I have to get those disks out of there before the police come into this."

"OK, but you will have to be on that cell phone as I go through there, it would help."

Jake went on in detail what Ricky needed to do to take care of business for Moran. Ricky was to go to the workbench in the garage where Aunt Maggie prepared her flower pots, and locate a pair of work gloves. He was also told to find a container of some sort, to pack all the items that he found in the study. Then, after locating the disks and emptying the safe, he was supposed to meet Jake at the little building at the end of the airstrip behind the stable. Ricky did not know why Jake picked that particular location for them to meet, but he assumed that Jake knew what he was doing.

"When you get all that stuff lined up, brother, call me back, and I will walk you through what we need to get from the study."

"OK, but I don't like this crap, just know that."

"Yea, I know you are a wimp, but maybe something like this is what you need to make a man out of you. Like I said, muster up the balls to get this done, and damn it, get it done."

As Jake hung up the phone, Ricky realized that the alpha male had just spoken. He had his marching orders. He got out of the SUV and walked over to the workbench, opened several of the drawers and finally found a pair of brown gardening gloves. They were a little small, but he put them on. Looking around for a box or a bag, there was nothing in the garage he could use for collecting the spoils of his search of the study. Then he thought about an old gym bag he had in his car. He had thrown it in the back with a few items from his apartment in Atlanta. He opened the back of the SUV and pulled out the bag. Mostly empty, it was very large bag and contained only a pair of old gym shoes and a tennis racquet. Emptying the contents into the back of the SUV, he then had the gloves and the bag.

Step one, finding the bag and gloves was easy. Step two, the hard part, was going into the house to that study. Remembering how he almost couldn't get a breath after seeing the sight in that room, he tried to think himself into a calm state before he went in. Entering the rear of the house as he had done when he first arrived, he walked the short distance down the rear of the foyer to the study door. Looking in again for a moment, he then calmly made his way across to the big desk. Breathing slowly, he was surprised that he did not panic as he had done before, and seemed quite proud of himself that he was able to get that far.

There on the desk, were the three disks. They were each in clear plastic cases, so you could see the disks inside. Picking them up, he noticed that they were the disks in question as they had the numbers one, two and the letter K on the third. Placing them in the big gym bag, he went over to the wall behind the portrait of Mrs. Pearson. He tugged on the bottom right edge of the painting. Sure enough, the painting opened like the cover on a book. It was hinged on the left side and opened wide after he released the magnetic catches that held it close to the wall. With this, he was becoming more assured of himself.

Behind the painting there was a very large wall safe. It reminded him of one of those old safes that you would see in old western movies. It was large and had a big dial with numbers and the only other thing on the front of it was a handle and a thing that looked like a ship's wheel, without the outer ring, just the spokes. At this point, he was supposed to dial up Jake and find out how to open the safe. Taking the cell phone out of his belt clip, he hit re-dial.

"That you brother?" came Jake's, now familiar, voice.

"Yes, it's me, I'm in here now and it is not good for me but better than earlier."

"I'm proud of you little brother. Did you find the three disks?"

"Yes, I found an old gym bag in my car and I brought in here with me. I dropped the three disks in it. Now how do I get in the safe? I want to get the hell out of here."

"Look at the desk. Do you see a glass paperweight on it?"

Ricky, turning away from the safe, looked in the direction of the desk. He spotted the paperweight. It was a half sphere of glass, about five inches in diameter. He walked over to the desk and picked it up.

"Look down into the glass paperweight and tell me if you see any arrows and numbers?"

"Yes, there are four rings that I can see, they are numbered (1), (2), (3) and (4). The first ring has the word SPIN with arrows pointing to the right. The other rings have just a few arrows pointing to numbers on each ring. What is all that stuff?"

"You are the accountant, stupid, wouldn't you come to a conclusion sooner or later that those numbers are the combination to the safe?"

"Don't call me stupid, dumb ass, you are just lucky that I am even in this damn room at the moment.

"Ricky, just take the paperweight and go over to the safe, and by the way, cut the crap."

"You started it, damn it," said Ricky walking to the safe with the paperweight. "Let's see," said Ricky as he gazed into the half glass orb. "Number 1, spin, spin and more spinning to the right, let's do that. Done. Now in ring number (2) says four arrows to the left and the number.27, so let's turn to the left and stop on 27 exactly. Done. Ring number three has arrows to the right and the number 16."

Repeating the combination of the safe to Jake over the phone, he continued by moving the dial to the right, stopping on 16. The third ring indicated a final move left to 12. Completing the sequence, he turned the big handle of the safe, and the door opened.

"I just opened the door, Jake."

"What's in there?"

"There are two small brief cases and a small box with some papers. There is also a little satchel."

"Well stuff all the things that you have found in the safe into the gym bag. Next, you have to check the desk, and you will be out of there."

"Oh thank God, I need to get out of here Jake, I have the creeps big time."

"You are a creep," said Jake trying to lighten the moment and keep Ricky going.

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up, and shut the safe, and return the portrait to its normal position."

"OK, I am going to put the phone down for a second."

Ricky took everything out of the safe, not looking inside of any of the cases or the satchel, and placed all contents in the gym bag. He then closed the safe, put the handle in the locked position then spun the dial several times. He was done with the safe, he thought, as he swung the portrait back into its normal position. He heard the magnetic latches click into place.

He moved back to the desk and replaced the paperweight. He would then empty the desk of important items. This would take all the strength he could muster, as Mrs. Person was there, in a pool of dried blood. As he approached, he noticed the backpack that was near her body at the side of the desk. He could see the money through the opening at the top of the bag.

"Oh my God," Ricky said into the phone.

"What, what is wrong, Ricky?"

"Jake, there is a bag of money here on the floor near the desk. I didn't see it before, but it is whole backpack full of money. The money is strapped with bank straps. I can't imagine how much it is. What the hell do I do with that?"

"Can you get the backpack in the gym bag?"

"I think so, the gym bag is really big."

"Well, don't leave it, for crying out loud, take it."

"OK."

Ricky moved around and positioned himself so he wouldn't walk over Mrs. Pearson. He grabbed the straps of the backpack and placed it in the gym bag. It fit quite nicely. He was amazed, but the gym bag still had room for more. He then moved behind the desk, looking in the drawers. He found Mrs. Pearson's little bar that she had set up in the bottom drawer, the liquor and glasses for her afternoon toddy. Most of the other drawers had things like blank letterhead, and envelopes, a box of blank thank you notes and the like. Down to the last drawer he found her set of books, as she had called them, many loose sheets of transactions and figures in a file folder. This, not being a good time then to find out all of the particulars of those sheets, Ricky stuffed them into the gym bag.

"Jake, I got everything out of the drawers that meant anything, her so called books were in there."

"Did you look in all the desk drawers?"

"Yea, just blank paper, letterhead, etc., nothing important."

"Good, then you have the contents of the safe and what was in the desk, right?"

"Yea, got it all, and the disks too."

"Oh, I had forgotten the disks, so you have everything. Good, now get the hell out of there."

Jake said, "I am proud of you little brother, proud."

With that statement, Ricky felt better, with a sense of accomplishment. Jake had expressed his approval and he briskly walked out of the study, still connected on the phone with Jake.

"What's next?" asked Ricky.

"You have to take that bag and meet me at the airstrip. I will be on my way there in just a few minutes. Take Mrs. Pearson's golf cart and drive down past the stable. Do you remember where the little building is that is on the end of the strip?"

"Yes, you and I walked down there last weekend."

"Right. When you get down there, call me back."

Ricky, walking out the rear door to the house, proceeded down the breezeway to the garage. Mrs. Pearson kept a golf cart for trips to the mailbox and to visit the horses. Ricky threw the gym bag in the back of the cart, backed out of the garage, and onto the rear driveway. As he was backing out, he glanced down the main driveway toward the highway. A reflection on something caught his eye as he looked in that direction. The morning sun glistened on a shiny surface that was about a tenth of a mile away. Curious, Ricky steered the golf cart in the direction.

Driving the cart the tenth of a mile down the driveway, the car that had been there when he arrived, was still parked, off the road, near the row of horse fencing. He could not see anyone around, or inside the car, as he approached. Stopping the cart on the driveway by the car, he walked over to it and noticed that both the front driver's side and passenger's side windows were down. There was a briefcase and a laptop with a power cord connected to the power outlet on the car's console. The keys were in the ignition. Ricky called Jake once more.

"Hello brother, what's up?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"Dummy, I have caller ID on this thing. For someone who is supposed to be so damn smart, you are about the dumbest smart person I know."

"Oh, cut the crap, Jake. I am down here on the driveway and I had passed this car when I came in. I didn't think too much about it then, but I happened to see it still parked there this morning. As I was heading down to the airstrip, I spotted a reflection from the chrome on the car and came down to take a look. The car was empty but there was a brief case, and a laptop, in front seat."

"Can you get in the car?"

"Sure, whoever left it here must have been in a hurry, because he left both front windows down and the keys in the ignition."

"Don't touch that car without your gloves."

"You know, I didn't even think about it, but I still have the gloves on."

"Cool, for one time your stupidity has paid off."

"You know, Jake, I am eventually going to have to take you out."

"What exactly do you mean, big man?"

"I mean I am going to really kick your ass to Sunday, that's what I mean."

"Idiot, just get the stuff out of the car and meet me at the airstrip."

"Why can't you meet me at the house, why do you want to drive all the way down to the airstrip? There is nobody here but me."

"Who said I was driving? Just meet me at the building at the airstrip."

"OK, goodbye."

Ricky, not thinking any more about how Jake would arrive, just knew he was supposed to be on his way. Moving around to the passenger's side of the car, he took the laptop out of the seat and unplugged the power cord from the outlet. Next he picked up the brief case and placed it on the seat next to his on the golf cart. Since he had his gloves on, he decided to play detective and look in the trunk of the car. Removing the keys from the ignition, he walked around to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. There was another bag full of money. Removing the bag, he closed the trunk and returned the keys to the ignition. He added the spoils of his search to the gym bag. Then, he drove the golf cart back to the house.

Passing the garage, the golf cart sped down the road to the stable. The horses were grazing in the pasture nearby and Ricky thought how beautiful this sight was, while all along, there were three dead bodies in the house. This was a strange combination of beauty of living nature and death. Somehow, they didn't mix, or did they.

Ricky waited at the small building at the end of the airstrip for about fifteen minutes. Starting to become very anxious at this point, and about to pick the phone up to call Jake, he heard the sound of an approaching airplane. A small single engine plane was descending and heading for the airstrip. Touching down, the plane, nose up slightly, landed on the grassy strip. It was odd that the front nose remained off the ground as the landing proceeded. Ricky watched with interest as the plane slowed. Eventually, reaching a very slow speed, the nose wheel dropped. At the upper end of the strip, the plane turned around and taxied down, and stopped front of the small building. The engine shut off and to Ricky's surprise, Jake jumped out of the plane.

"What the hell?" Ricky asked. "When did you learn to fly?"

"Back when I twelve, my dad taught me. Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yes, it's in the golf cart."

"Good, let's go get it."

The two men walked to the cart and Ricky handed Jake the gym bag.

"Damn this thing is heavy," Jake said. "Full of money. Money isn't light."

"Jake, I can't even imagine how much money is in that bag. I found some more in the trunk of that car on the driveway, too."

"Well, we have to get it all out of here, that is why I brought the plane. We have to move fast. By the way, there is one more thing that Moran wants you to do."

"What now?"

"This one is easy, go back to the house and call 911. Make sure you use a house phone so it will show up on the dispatcher's screen. The sheriff will respond and you will have to listen to a bunch of crap and a thousand questions about everything. One thing you don't want to tell them about is your second little trip to the study, and how you opened the safe. And you certainly don't tell them anything about me flying in here and hauling off this gym bag. Don't say anything about the disks, or your little trip down the driveway to that car."

"Why don't I just put a piece of tape over my mouth so I won't say anything at all? Ricky joked.

"I wish you had thought of that earlier. I wouldn't have had to listen to all your smart ass comments."

"Hey, cut it out, this is serious."

"Yes, I know," Jake becoming more somber. "Particularly about Aunt Maggie. I just don't know how to tell mom, she is going to be devastated."

Ricky thought for a second and said, "Jake, I think it is best that you tell her. I wouldn't think that you would want her to learn what happened from the cops. They are not equipped to handle the emotions of the moment. She will need you since your dad is not there to comfort her."

"Yea, I will have to be like a rock on this one."

"Rock solid. Just give her the love she needs, and let her grieve with you."

At that, Jake broke down and began to sob. Ricky knew Jake was starting the grieving process. The initial shock for Jake was over, and reality was beginning to sink in. Ricky threw his arm around Jake and let his new friend cry on his shoulder. Jake needed time to get over Maggie, but he didn't have a lot of time at the moment. However, Ricky knew Jake needed someone, right then and there. He made Jake take the time until he regained his composure.
Chapter 12

In a short time, Jake realized that he had to take care of business. His thoughts switched to how he could complete this mission, so to speak, and deliver the disks to Moran. There was no question of the importance of the moment.

"Ricky, after I leave, you need to get the sheriff out here. As I had said, use the house phone to dial 911. And be sure that you don't say anything about the money, the safe or me, not a word."

"I think I can handle that Jake, I will just say that I had just arrived, walked into the study then called 911. It really is sort of simple, saying that I just waited for the sheriff in my car. I had those gloves on the entire time I was in the room as well and when I found that sedan out front. There are none of my prints on anything other than the phone that I will use to call 911. Then I have Barry to verify I was in Roanoke that prior day."

"That sounds right Ricky, just hold to that story. After all, it has hardly been an hour since you have found them, so the time line is going to work for you. By the way, Moran will be coming in, and you may, or may not see him, depending if the cops want you to stay. He knows about the disks, and he knows that I had planned to fly in here this morning to pick them up from you. That was what he wanted. What's so important though, Moran doesn't know about the money, or anything else that is in that bag. So if he says anything, just talk about the disks."

"OK, I get the picture," Ricky responded. "Are you OK to fly now, do you have it together?"

"Yes, I keep thinking about mom though, please pray for me Ricky, just pray."

"I already have. I know it is going to be the toughest thing you have ever done. But you must do what you have to do, brother."

"Thanks for the brother part," Jake responded, "I appreciate it."

As the conversation drew to a close, Jake walked over to the plane and tossed the gym bag into the passenger's seat. Ricky watched as Jake taxied the aircraft back up the field to the higher point of land. At the other end of the strip, he turned the plane downhill for takeoff. Its engine revving, the plane's speed on the ground increased, as Jake steered the aircraft down the airstrip. Finally, the wheels left the ground, and before Ricky knew it, the plane had disappeared over the trees, heading back to Manassas.

Ricky drove the golf cart back to the house at full speed, which didn't seem fast enough, considering the events that had transpired. His thoughts were just to get this thing past him. Yes it was traumatic, but he had done his part. Ricky wanted to see the end of this mess, sooner, rather than later. Stopping the cart in the garage in its parking place, Ricky jumped out, and removed the gloves. He placed them in their original location, in the workbench drawer. Picking up the receiver of the phone that hung on the wall above the bench, he dialed 911.

"What is your emergency?" questioned the operator on the other end of the line.

Ricky explained that he had just discovered three bodies at the residence, and it appeared that they all had been murdered. He went on to state that the sheriff needed to come out right away. When the call was complete, Ricky went over to his SUV, opened the driver's door and sat down and waited. He would feel better when someone could come and take those bodies out of the house. Once they were gone, he thought, most of this was going to be over. On the other hand, in the back of his mind, he was wondering if any of the three were looking down from above to observe the scene. Would he be haunted? Would he and Jake be punished somehow for taking the money? Stupid thoughts, Ricky told himself, just stop thinking and wait. He did that. He just sat in the car and waited.

Twenty-five minutes after takeoff at Shelby Farm, Jake landed at the Manassas regional airport. The plane taxied over to a hanger at the side of the field. The Lawson family had rented a space there for years, and Jake had become a close friend of the mechanic, Billy Woodson. Removing the gym bag from the plane at the hanger, Jake spoke with Billy briefly and placed the bag in the back seat of his mom's SUV. He headed out of the airport towards home.

Jake, completely not aware that the tracking device, now in the gym bag, was activating every fifteen minutes. The cartel gang member that murdered Toru and Mrs. Pearson had been assigned to collect the money, and report back to the cartel through a number of contacts. No one paid attention at the cartel level until the next morning when the money began to move from the farm's location toward the Washington, D.C. area. Since there was no report that the money had been recovered, the cartel issued new directives to area operatives to retrieve the loot.

Jake had turned off the main route from the airport, and down a back road, a short cut to his family home. Suddenly, an old muscle car began to chase Jake. Coming up from behind, the driver of the car fired a couple of shots at the SUV and missed. He then pulled along the driver's side of the SUV. Seeing this maneuver, Jake steered out of his way. He had been trained in defensive and aggressive driving techniques, and was well equipped to handle this situation. As the car backed off to the rear of the SUV, Jake slightly moved his vehicle to the left. The driver of the car reacted by driving around to the passenger's side of the SUV. Another shot was fired at Jake. Again a miss, but it came very close to hitting the SUV. Jake, forcing the issue, jerked the wheel to the right, causing the big SUV to sway in that direction. Seeing the looming SUV heading his way, the driver of the car overreacted by steering the coupe very sharply to the right. Off the road it went. A steep bank took the muscle car down a thirty-five foot embankment to a ditch lined with oak trees. The car flipped, on its way down, then struck two of the trees. Smokey steam began to curl it way out of the engine compartment.

Jake stopped the SUV as soon as he could, turned around and drove back to the scene of the crash. Parking on the opposite side of the road, he ran down the embankment to the car. The driver had almost been completely decapitated from the impact and had apparently been killed instantly. Jake noticed a laptop and a small briefcase on the passenger's side of the car. The laptop and the briefcase could contain the answer to the important question. Who is this guy and why is he shooting at me?

Working around to the other side, he removed the items from the car and proceeded back up the hill to his SUV. At the top of the hill, turning back to look down the embankment, Jake saw flames now shooting from the wreck. Just then, there was a loud boom. The engine compartment had exploded, followed by a huge ball of black smoke rising from the car. The entire car was being engulfed in flames. Jake, placing the items he had retrieved from the crash in his vehicle, turned the SUV back in the direction of home, and sped off. The old side road he had chosen as a short cut had worked well for Jake on this occasion. Rarely traveled in a sparsely populated area, there had been no witnesses to the crash. He quickly drove home.

Jake continued to speculate why this had happened. Why would someone shoot at him. It could have been many things, he thought. He had been on many jobs for Moran over the past couple of years. Had he been identified as one of the covert operatives on one of those missions? He always believed that he would be targeted by some group, that he had, at one time or another, been pursuing. He never thought for one second that there was a tracking device in the gym bag, and he never connected the actions that took place at Shelby Grove Farm with this latest incident. All the while, the transmitter was working properly, reporting its location every fifteen minutes.

Ten minutes before Jake arrived home, the transmitter hidden in the money, again became active. After a short time, it deactivated. This was before Jake drove into his neighborhood. Within another fifteen minutes, the transmitter would due re-awaken for its next transmission. Parking the SUV in the garage at the rear of his home, he proceeded to take the gym bag, and the newly acquired items from the muscle car, and put them in his father's old safe.

On the same level as the garage, the basement of the house, his father had an office constructed many years before. Due to the nature of some of his work with the Navy and the Pentagon, he had a large safe installed to store sensitive documents. The safe had been cleared out since his father's death and was empty now. Jake thought this would be a good place for all of the money, computers and documents. Sometime in the near future, he would take the time to sort it out. But for now, he placed all of the materials in the safe, closed the door, then turned the latch to lock it.

Just then, the device inside the backpack, awakening from its sleep and finding no signal, due to the heavy walls of the safe, returned to the inactive state. Jake was lucky, very lucky, to say the least. The last transmission from the device was some distance from his home. He had averted a possible nightmare for both he and his mother by closing the door to the safe when he did, never knowing about the problem, and subsequently, not realizing that the problem had not gone away. Jake's stomach knotted as he thought about what he must do next. He must tell his mother about Aunt Maggie, and that was going to be tough. But the tough get going, he thought as he slowly climbed the stairs to the kitchen.

"Jake, is that you?"

"Hi mom," he said, entering the kitchen from the stairs.

"Where have you been, honey?"

"Mom, I need for you to sit down, I have to talk to you."

Jake's heart was pounding and his voice quivered as he spoke the words to his mother. Very nervous and agitated, he tried to continue. His mother moved over to the kitchen table and sat down.

"Jake, something is really wrong isn't it, very wrong. You are shaking, what's wrong honey?"

"Mom, it's about Aunt Maggie. She has passed away."

"What?" she yelled, "What happened to Maggie, what happened?" Tears welled up in Mrs. Lawson eyes as the shocking news was just barely starting to sink in.

"Mom, she was shot by an intruder, shot in the study at the farm."

At this, Mrs. Lawson began to really break down. Her lifelong friend had died. She could not believe that the end of her friend's life was so very tragic. This made the situation even less palatable. This change was so sudden. Jake pulled up a chair next to her, sat down and began to hug his mom who was sobbing in his arms.

"Ricky Russell is out at the farm, mom. I spoke to you about him. He was to go to work for her on Monday. He got there early this morning. I think he wanted to move his stuff into the guesthouse and get things ready for Monday morning. Ricky is working with the sheriff now to make sure everything is taken care of."

Mrs. Lawson, now sobbing asked, "did he find her this morning?"

"Yes he did, mom, he walked into the study and saw two men and Aunt Maggie there."

"Apparently Aunt Maggie pulled out her derringer and fired one shot, dead center in the intruder's forehead."

"I know where she keeps that derringer, in her bra," said Mrs. Lawson.

"I think it was the last thing she did, mom, Ricky saw the derringer in her hand."

"Well at least she evened the score. My dear sweet Maggie, God bless her."

Jake, trying his very best to comfort his mom, asked her if he could get her anything to help calm her down and make this easier. She declined the offer, but wanted to rest in bed for a while. She just needed time to think about what had happened, and try to have some quiet time.

"Do you think we need to go to the farm, Jake? Is Maria OK, did you talk to her?"

"Maria was in town, probably left yesterday morning, so was Harry. I will call Ricky to have him talk to the sheriff about sending someone over to Maria's sister's house to tell her."

"Poor Maria, she had worked for Maggie for all those years, she was just as close to Maggie as I am. I am so sorry this has happened, it is so tragic."

"It is awful mom, just awful."

Jake walked with his mother to her bedroom and she rested on the bed. He covered her with a light blanket and kissed her on the cheek. Still sobbing, he told her how much he loved her and how much he had loved Aunt Maggie. Jake's mother then realized that she needed to comfort her son as well as try to cope with this situation for herself. The fact that Jake was grieving, while trying to be strong for her, did much to help her. She had him, the best son in the world.

"Mom, I need to go call Ricky and take care of the Maria thing, he will have to tell the sheriff."

"OK Jake, go call, let me know what's going on down there."

"I will mom, I'll be back in just a few minutes."

Walking out the back of the house to the patio, Jake sat down at the picnic table and took a minute to think about all that had happened. He really didn't want to talk to Ricky at the moment, so he just sat there for a few minutes with his head in his hands. Again, Jake broke down in grief, he cried until he got a headache. This was an awful time, just awful.
Chapter 13

Within ten minutes, sirens could be heard screaming up the driveway to the mansion. Ricky was thinking that the noise was enough to wake the dead. Then, he caught himself, thinking about what an awful thing that had gone through his mind. The thought about waking the dead. He was certain the bodies in the study were still dead, no matter how much noise the sheriff made.

Ricky got out of the SUV, and walked out into the driveway to watch the parade. The sheriff's car was followed by two cars driven by his deputies. While on their way to the house, three more cars, all with loud sirens came through the front gate. This time it was the Virginia State Police, Virginia's finest. The sirens seemed to be at top volume.

"There is a traffic jam in here. Good grief." Ricky thought to himself as he watched the onslaught of vehicles headed his way. "Good grief, never heard such noise, and those flashing lights."

The sheriff stopped his car in front of the mansion. By this time Ricky had walked around to the front of the house. He thought it would be better to be completely visible at the moment, rather than stuck in the SUV in the garage. What if one or two of those agitated law officers out front got the wrong idea about him, and opened up on him by mistake. Within seconds, probably all of them would be firing, and he would wind up looking like a big piece of swiss cheese.

"Are you the one who called 911?" the sheriff asked.

"Yes sir, it was me, I'm Richard Russell."

"I'm Sheriff Thompson, son," the man responded. "What's going on here?"

"I just came in from Roanoke this morning, I was supposed to be here tomorrow. I was able to come in earlier."

"Why are you here?"

"Mrs. Pearson had hired me through Mr. Bob Moran to come to help her with her accounting work. I am a CPA."

"I know Bob, so you work for him?

"Yes sir, as I said, I came in earlier than expected. I have just finished a project for Bob in Atlanta and drove up here. Mrs. Pearson wanted me to live on the property in the guesthouse."

The sheriff, having taken control of the situation, spoke to the deputies and the State Police, asking them to stand by until he finished talking with Ricky.

"So, Mr. Russell, where is Mrs. Pearson?"

"She's in the study, there are two other bodies in there as well."

"Let's go in there now."

"I don't know about going back in there again sheriff, I didn't handle the first time too well."

"Well, I know the house, I have been here many times, let's just go down the foyer hall to the study, and you can wait outside while I go in," the sheriff responded.

"Sounds good, thank you."

The sheriff tried the front door and it opened. The two entered the foyer and walked to the rear of the house and approached the study door. Ricky waited outside and the sheriff went in to take a look. He soon came out, and Ricky followed him back to the front door.

"Quite a mess, Mr. Russell, quite a mess. I will have to get the coroner out here before we do anything else. We will get that started right away. I will have to ask that you stay here for a while until we can wrap this up."

"Oh sure, I will be glad to help in any way."

"We appreciate that Mr. Russell."

"I'll just stay in my car, it is in the garage."

"Thank you, we will be calling on you."

With his mother resting in her bedroom after hearing the tragic news, Jake walked outside to the patio and took the cell phone from its clip on his belt. He keyed in Ricky's number and hit send. One ring, then another, and before the third, Ricky answered the call.

"Hello."

"Brother, what's going on down there?"

"Man, all hell has broken loose, the sheriff and his men are all over the place."

"Has Moran arrived yet?"

"No, not yet, but a helicopter just landed and two suits got out."

"Must be FBI or CIA, or both."

"I don't know, but the place is crawling with people. Wait a minute, here comes Moran from the house, he must have been in there speaking with the sheriff."

"Remember, don't tell the cops about the disks. Moran knows, and I need to call him to let him know that I have them here at home. And don't tell Moran about the money or the safe thing."

"Oh, I won't say anything about that part to anyone, I will mention the disks if Moran brings it up. Jake, what is going to happen to all that money? Mrs. Pearson probably had way over a million in her safe. She was probably the only one that knew about it, except you and I. I think the only reason she said anything to you and I was because she was afraid that she would be robbed someday. Along with everything else, I don't think she ever mentioned the cash at the house to Moran. I don't think he knows."

"I don't think so either, Ricky, Moran doesn't know. So, like I said, keep your big trap shut, understand?"

"Yes, master, anything you say, master."

"Ricky, I am going to be on your ass if you don't do what I say on this. This is important."

"Yea, I know, trust me on this Jake, for once. If I come through on this will you stop picking on me?"

"Maybe."

"Here comes Moran, I'll call you back a little later."

Moran approached Ricky as he ended the phone call with Jake.

"Hi Ricky, sounds like you had a rough morning, sorry about all that."

"It was quite a shock Mr. Moran, I don't see things like this every day."

"Nobody does, this is a mess."

"Awful," responded Ricky. "Does anyone know why all this happened?"

"It may have something to do with the disks, does Jake have them safely put away?"

"Yes, I just hung up talking to him, he has them in his dad's safe, locked up tight."

"Good, that's why I am here, to make sure those disks are secure. They are hot as a firecracker at this point in time, really hot."

"Jake and I are the only ones that know where they are, I think they are safe now."

Moran went on to say that the sequence of the killings inside the house seemed quite amazing. He related to Ricky the information he knew.

"Before any autopsy reports or further crime scene investigations, it appeared that the gunman came into the room and surprised Toru and Mrs. Pearson. Apparently trying to get the disks, he shot Toru then he shot her. She then pulled out the derringer and took dead aim at his forehead. She squeezed off the final shot. She must have died shortly thereafter. The sheriff figures the whole thing took only four or five minutes total," said Moran. The forensic evidence will prove everything."

"I wish they would let me go, this place is giving me the creeps," Ricky responded.

"I am sure they are going to question you shortly, there isn't a lot more that can go on in the house at this point. Those men, the ones that arrived by helicopter, are FBI agents. They know about the disks, Ricky. So, they may want to talk to you or maybe not. I don't know. They know Jake has them, and that he flew in to pick them up. Frankly, they would rather have it that way, rather than having the police discover them on the desk. They are not going to mention the disks to the sheriff."

"I see," said Ricky, "If the FBI agents ask, I will just tell them that I called Jake and he came and got the disks, then left immediately."

"That's what happened, so tell them that. It's cut and dried."

"Right, I just wish this was over."

"Won't be long, my boy, just hang in there."

"I will Mr. Moran, I'll just hang out in the garage so they can find me."

"Call me Bob, Ricky, nobody calls their boss mister anymore."

"I like that better anyway," Ricky smiled, as he replied.

"Good, I have to get going now. I have already finished talking with the agents and the sheriff. There is nothing left for me to do here. As I said, hang in there, it will be over soon. You have done an excellent job, Ricky."

"Thanks Bob, I appreciate that."

Bob Moran shook Ricky's hand and walked over to his sedan, opened the driver's side door, got in and started the car. He drove down the driveway passing the deserted car on his way to the highway. Bob had not mentioned anything about the money, and was only concerned about the disks.

Ricky started to worry about it all. Why had Jake told him not to mention the money to anyone? What did Jake have in the back of his mind on this one? Ricky began to realize that he had only just met Jake. He really did not know Jake that well. Was he some kind of person to be wary of?

In any event, it was Jake that held the money now, not him. It was Jake's problem at the moment, not his. The money was dirty money. Look what problems it had wrought. Money truly is the root of all evil. No he thought, the love of money is the root of all evil. It's in the Bible. The desire to own that money was strong, from the cartels and now it had passed to Jake. Ricky would wait and see what would happen. Would there be more evil?
Chapter 14

Very upset and depressed, after learning of the death of her life long friend Maggie, Jane Lawson tried to rest in her bedroom to reconcile her thoughts. She would have periods of sobbing, as she grieved for her dear friend.

Jake, sitting by her side, tried to comfort her by holding her hand and telling her how much he loved her. At times he would also break down, and the tears would flow. The two of them had just lost a huge part of their lives. It was like an end of an era. First, they had lost Uncle Harold, then Jake's dad, and now Aunt Maggie. They were all his parents, all of them. All helped raise him. He had learned so much from them all.

Jake had given his mom medication to calm her. Medication, her doctor had prescribed, left over from the time of his father's death to help her sleep. As he waited patiently by her side in her bedroom, she became drowsy. As the pill took its effect, she soon fell into a peaceful sleep. Jake left the room and went outside to the patio and again called Ricky at the farm.

"Hello."

"Brother, you still there?"

"The way it looks Jake, I will be here all day. The coroner came and they are taking out the bodies now. The sheriff has spoken to me and wants me to stick around until Harry gets back. I don't know when that will be. I don't look for Maria to come back at all today. The sheriff sent someone into town to tell her about all this. I am sure that she would rather be there, of course."

"Yea, I figure Maria must be a total mess right now," said Jake.

"I would think so, being with Mrs. Pearson for such a long time. Seems like she had always been here. Jake, I suppose I will have to check into a hotel in D.C. when this is all over, we can talk by phone to keep in touch. I don't have any idea what Moran has in store for me now, since all of this has happened. I didn't ask him about what was next for me. There was too much going on, and I got the feeling that he wanted to get the hell out of here for some reason.

"He is very concerned about the disks, Ricky, that's why."

"Boy, I can't imagine what is on those disks that is so important."

"I can't either," said Jake.

"By the way, I told him that you had them in your safe at home, so I guess you don't need to call him to let him know where they are."

"Well, I need to touch base with him anyway, but I am glad you told him they were in a safe place. I am sure that it eased his mind a bit."

"Hope so."

"Ricky, why don't you come here for a while, until you find out your next assignment?"

"With your mom in the shape she is in? Jake, that's not very considerate of you."

"You know, I think it might be good for her. She likes for people to be here at the house, and I think it will take her mind off things. And to be honest, baby sitting you would keep my mind off of things too."

"You know Jake, it would be nice if you had a mind to start with, but unfortunately when they passed them out, you were at the back of the line."

Jake began to chuckle as he and Ricky talked on the phone. Most of the conversation was just the typical back and forth, but Jake really was beginning to think the world of Ricky. It was the same for Ricky. They could say almost anything to each other. It seemed neither was offended, from the other's remarks.

"Well, are you coming down here to stay with us for a while?"

"I guess so, if you are sure I won't be a problem, because of your mom."

"I really don't this that is a problem Ricky, she might even begin to like you being around."

"If things are not right though, I want you to tell me right away. I don't want to be a burden on her in any way. Do you promise to let me know?"

"Yes, I promise, but it's not going to be a problem, not a problem at all."

"OK, I'll call you and let you know when I leave here. You may have to give me directions to your house when I get in the area."

"Great, drive easy, brother."

"See ya, take care bro."

The two ended their call. Jake walked back into the house to check on his mother. She was still sleeping quietly. Walking back to his favorite patio spot, he sat down again at the picnic table and called Moran. The call went through his secretary, who put him on hold. He waited a few seconds for Bob Moran to come on the line.

"Jake, how are you doing son, and how is your mom?

"I finally got her to take a pill. The doctor prescribed them back when my dad died, and she had a few left."

"That's good, I have been worried about her, and you for that matter. You OK?"

"Yes, I have had some moments, but I really have to be strong for her right now."

"Absolutely. Ricky tells me you have the disks in a safe place."

"Yea, they are in my dad's safe locked up tight."

"Great, that takes a lot of pressure off me. Some of the Feds have been asking. I am glad you called to verify that."

"If you want me to, I can run them over to your office."

"No, I think Bill Carnes will come out to get them, if that's OK?"

"Sure, haven't seen him in a while, is he still an agent with the FBI?

"Yes, and he got a promotion recently, don't know what title they call him now, Chief Bottle Washer, I guess."

"Bob, knowing Bill Carnes, I can't imagine you calling him a Chief Bottle Washer and getting away with it. You know how funny he is about his title. He would make you think the title of Agent for the FBI was the highest position that they have over there."

"I know, that's why I thought that CBW would be a great title for him, sort of put him in his place."

"By the way Bob, I have asked Ricky to stay over here with us for a while until you figure out what to do with him. If I need to go somewhere, I don't want to leave mom here alone. As bad as the situation is, Ricky can stay with her until she's feeling better. Just a precautionary measure."

"Well that's nice of you Jake, he has moved out of his apartment, and when I saw him at the farm, he had everything he owned in that SUV of his. I guess you could consider him homeless at this point."

"He's clueless and homeless," Jake chuckled.

"So glad you guys are getting along so well."

"Yea, he gives me a lot of crap, but you know, I don't pay any attention to it."

"Well, I have something cooking that I could use both of you on, but it might take a month for it to come into realization. So with everything going on back at the farm, and with your mom, why don't both you and Ricky take thirty days off, to help your mom recover from this."

"I sincerely appreciate that Bob, thank you so much."

"Jake, I will keep in touch, and if you, or your mother, need anything from me, please call."

"I will Bob, and thanks so much for your help."

"You are welcome, son, take it easy and give my love to your mom."

"I will, thank you again."

The called ended as calls do, and Jake felt reassured about Bob Moran, and how much he could use the time off. With that in mind, he began to think about the funeral and all the things that go along with that, the people, the flowers, and the cards. Jake began to realize that the services and events for Mrs. Pearson would be huge. She and her husband had served their country admirably. The Senate would surely be involved, possibly the President, and many Washington, D.C. dignitaries. Then there was the State of Virginia. Certainly from the Governor on down, there would be speeches, tributes and memorials. All of this would be in the news for a week. One thing was for sure, he would need some time off. Jake quickly came to realize the hard facts. That things were not ending, they were just beginning.
Chapter 15

After several hours, which seemed like eternity to Ricky, the crowd at the farm dwindled down. The sheriff, a deputy, and a Virginia policeman were all that were left. Things had wrapped up in the house. Many photographs and measurements had been taken, reports written, and evidence was collected. The big oriental carpet in the study and the blood soaked wing back chair, were the only items that were reminders of the past event. The sheriff had his men roll up the carpet, and the chair was put to the side. In a few days those items would be removed or cleaned.

Outside, Ricky waited for Harry to return. His arrival was to be Ricky's signal that he would be able to leave. As he was thinking about Harry, a deputy drove up from the highway with Harry in the patrol car. Harry had been a little too inebriated to drive. He had been at Delores' house when the deputy found him. After learning of Mrs. Pearson's death, Harry tried to start his truck and drive it back to the farm. The deputy had to stop him, his truck remained in town, and Harry was given a free ride to the farm.

Leaving the deputy's vehicle, Harry, now a lot less intoxicated, walked briskly in the direction toward Ricky.

"What exactly happened to Maggie," he asked Ricky.

"She had an intruder while she was visiting with someone in her study, Harry. The visitor and Mrs. Pearson were both shot by the guy, then she pulled out her derringer and put a slug right between his eyes. The shot that hit her caused her to bleed to death. There was a lot of blood on the floor."

"Oh my God, oh my God."

"I am sorry Harry, I know you had been here a long time."

"I only wish I had been here, maybe I could have saved her."

"I am sure if you had been here Harry, you would have been at the stable with the horses and you would have never heard the shots. Even if you had heard them, you couldn't have made it to the house in time to save her. She probably passed away within five minutes after the bullet hit her. You should never feel guilty by not being here Harry, it is just one of those things that happened."

Ricky tried to ease Harry's guilt, along with consoling him at his loss. He had known her for the many years that he lived on the farm. Things were so sad and depressing at times like these. Ricky knew he was not the person to whom others should rely, but he did his best to console them. By his nature, Ricky could see and feel the pain of others. Somehow, those feelings would transfer to him, as he talked to them. He wanted to make a real effort to help those people. They needed some reassurance and understanding of their feelings.

Harry asked Ricky about what was going to happen to the farm. Ricky didn't have much of a response to that question, but he told Harry that everything would work out for the best. Harry was approaching the age retirement, but he really did not want to think about that, he would rather have things back the way they were before her death.

"Harry, they want you to stay here and keep an eye on things, at least until things are settled about the farm. Who knows, that may take a year or so. We will all have to wait and see."

"Oh, not a problem. As a matter of respect to Maggie, I want to stay and watch over the place."

Ricky pulled out a note pad from his shirt pocket and wrote down his telephone number for Harry.

"Here is my telephone number, Harry, if you need anything, call me. I will always be able to get in touch with Bob Moran or Jake, if you aren't able to reach them. You are not alone out here, just remember that."

"Well thank you Ricky, thank you very much."

After shaking Ricky's hand, Harry turned away and wandered down the back road to the stable. As he walked, he started crying. He had lost a great friend and employer. He thought about Maria, and he thought about himself. He would stay on the farm as long as he was needed. He knew what he had to do everyday to keep things going, so he decided to do just that, he would stay and do his job. Everything would work out like Ricky had said. Things would be fine. But this was a bad day for Harry for sure.

As Harry departed for the stable, a deputy driving Harry's old truck drove up the driveway to the house. He stopped and spoke with the sheriff for a few minutes. Then Ricky was asked to follow the deputy driving Harry's old truck to the stable. Ricky followed along in the golf cart. The afternoon was very warm, and the farm was now a very quiet place. Only a soft wind thorough the trees made the leaves rattle slightly, as the quiet electric cart made its way down to the dusty road.

Delivering the deputy back to the main house, Ricky parked the golf cart and walked to the driveway to have a few words with the sheriff.

"Sheriff, I don't think I can be of any more help to you. Do you think it would be OK if I left? Jake has offered for me to stay with him for a while until I can get settled somewhere. So, I would like to leave before dark so I can drive to Manassas."

"Oh sure, Mr. Russell, you have been very helpful with this situation. If I need you, I have Jane Lawson's home phone number as well as Jake's cell number. And of course, you have already given me your cell phone number."

"Right. Call me anytime sheriff, any time at all."

After they finished the conversation, the sheriff walked back into the house to finalize his reports and lock the place up. Ricky headed for the garage, got into his SUV and backed it out into the driveway. He thought that this was the most incredible job that he had ever had. Heading down the driveway to the highway, he realized that this job had not even lasted for one full day. He had arrived there this morning. Now, he was moving on to something else before the sun had set. For some reason, the devil had been in that house. Poor Mrs. Pearson was taken, and two others had died as well. There seemed something more sinister to Ricky than just what happened on the surface, there must be a reason for all of it. It was the love of money. Evil follows it.
Chapter 16

The big green sign on Interstate indicated that the next exits were for Manassas. Ricky picked up his cell phone and keyed in Jake's number. He needed directions at this point, and the two of them had arranged to have Jake talk him into the area by phone.

"Hello, brother, what's up?"

"Hi Jake, there are exits to Manassas, which one do I take?"

"Take the first one."

"OK, it's coming up now. All right, I am on the exit, what do I do now?"

Jake directed Ricky for the next several minutes, and before Ricky knew it, he was on Jake's street approaching his house.

"See the mailbox with the brick column under it? That's our driveway. Turn in there and drive on around to the back of the house. I'll be waiting."

"OK."

The two men ended the cell phone call and Ricky turned into the drive as Jake had directed. Driving around to the rear of the house, he could see Jake's car with Jake standing near it. Jake directed Ricky to park next to his car.

"Man, you do have everything you own in that truck of yours."

"To be honest, yes, there was nothing left in the apartment in Atlanta except this stuff. These are all my clothes and personal items."

"Well then, you are homeless, like Moran said."

"He said what?"

"He said you had everything you owned in that car. He told me that you were virtually homeless."

Jake began to laugh at thought of Ricky being homeless. He explained to Ricky how he was Ricky's knight in shining armor, come to rescue the poor homeless tramp from Atlanta.

"I hope that knights armor rusts up on your ass. I hope you get locked up like the tin man in The Wizard of Oz. And, don't ever count on me bringing you an oil can."

"The hell you say. Well, you little shit. No oil from you, huh."

From this comment, Jake gave Ricky a big hug, "Welcome, little brother, welcome"

"That's better," said Ricky, returning the hug.

"Let's go in the house, mom should be awake about now."

"I really worry about coming in on her at this particular time, Jake."

"Don't worry, we can both do a lot to help her. She needs someone in the house right now."

The two walked up the steps from the garage into the kitchen. Mrs. Lawson was sitting at the kitchen table with a tissue in her hand. She had obviously been continuing to cry. Jake walked over to comfort her as Ricky stood by the stairway quietly.

"You must be Ricky?" she asked.

"Yes Ma'am, I am Ricky Russell, Mrs. Lawson. I am so very sorry for the things that have happened."

"I have just been devastated about all this, this is just so awful. I understand that you found Maggie this morning."

"Yes ma'am, I did."

"We had known each other our entire lives. We grew up together, went to school together, and have been together as friends for all those years. This is just an awful thing, an awful thing indeed," she explained with tears now streaming down here face.

Jake gave his mom a big hug and his eyes puffed up with tears as he saw her pain and grief. He wanted to comfort her, but like Ricky, he knew that he wasn't very good at that kind of thing. All he could do was to express his love. She soon regained her composure, sitting quietly. Jake thought about changing the subject a bit to ease the tension of the moment. He decided to inject a little of his rough style of humor into the conversation.

"Mom, Ricky is homeless and needs a place to stay. I have asked him to stay with us for a few days until Moran decides what to do with him."

"Homeless, you poor boy, how did that happen?"

"Mrs. Lawson, I am not exactly homeless."

"Yes you are, brother," said Jake.

"No, I am not. Mrs. Lawson, I was supposed to start with Mrs. Pearson on Monday to help her with her accounting problems. I am a CPA, and I work for Bob Moran. I moved out of my apartment in Atlanta this past week and donated all my furniture to the neighbors. All I have is my SUV and what is packed up in it, mainly my clothes and personal items."

"Well you are certainly welcome to stay here. If Maggie liked you, and I think Jake does, we would love to have you," she said.

"Mom, I really don't like him at all. But I feel sorry for the jerk, he's like a hobo, with no place to live."

"That settles it, Ricky, you can stay as long as you want to. Jake apparently likes you a lot."

Mrs. Lawson was smiling. Jake was the image of her late husband. How lucky she had been to have her Jake, her only child that now gave her the memories of her husband along with the fact that she had the security of having him around. Jake's comments about Ricky's homeless situation was evidence how much he liked Ricky. She immediately picked up the fact that Jake had called him brother. This was typical Jake. She knew there was a real friendship brewing between the two, and she really liked to see it. And, for a moment, her thoughts changed to the two of them.

"Thank you Mrs. Lawson, I will try to not overstay my welcome here. My grandmother always said, company are like fish, after three days they begin to smell."

"I think I would have liked your grandmother Ricky, she obviously taught you some manners too."

"Yes ma'am, she was very prim and proper, to a fault, I would say."

"Don't worry about staying Ricky, it would be nice to have the two of you here together and you two boys seem to get along so well. I haven't seen Jake take a liking to too many people. So, this is refreshing."

"OK brother, you got the approval, so let's get you up to your room."

Jake's statement brought another smile came back to Jane Lawson's face. She now had two boys in the house to take care of. In a way, it was really nice. Now there were two of them. How very nice, indeed.

Jake took Ricky upstairs to the guestroom. The house was a beautiful two story colonial. Not as massive as the mansion at Shelby Grove Farm, but large with at least six thousand square feet of living space. The house rested on a top of a rise, on three acres. The rear of the property sloped down, accommodating access to a large garage, for three cars, and an office space as well. This exposed basement was only accessible from the rear of the house and hidden from the front view. The first story had a foyer, large formal living and dining rooms, and a huge family room. A very large kitchen, with breakfast nook, completed the first floor layout.

The formal staircase led the two men up to the second floor. Jake opened the door to the guestroom. Ricky thought this was similar to the room he had in Maggie's guesthouse, with a poster bed and comfortable furnishings all done in the colonial style.

"There is plenty of closet space in here, but I don't think we can get all of your junk that you have in your truck in here."

"Jake, I'm only going to stay a few days. That stuff can stay in the car until I find a place."

"I bet that damn car stinks from all of that dirty stuff in there anyway. You probably never washed most of it. In fact, how often do you take a bath? "

"Cut the crap. Everything in that car is clean, and it doesn't stink. I don't stink either, and I take a bath every day. I am sure you don't, from that smell."

"You don't like my cologne, huh?"

"That must be La-Fleur-De-Skunk. I heard that's real popular with you Navy guys."

"You're getting personal now, watch your mouth."

"You always start the shit, then blame me for it," Ricky said, with a little anger to his tone.

"Somebody's got to take my crap."

"Crap is right" Ricky snapped back. "And I have been taking a lot of it lately."

With that, Jake gave Ricky a big smile. Jake really liked to push Ricky, but sometimes Ricky had about enough of it. There were times when he would push the wrong button but Jake instinctively knew there was a limit. In his boyish way, he would then try to back out gracefully.

"Brother, just playing, don't get your panties all in a wad."

"I'm not, I'm just tired. This has been a very long, long day so far, and I am just tired as hell. And by the way, I don't wear panties."

"I bet you would, if the right girl told you to put them on."

"That would be the only time for sure," Ricky replied.

Jake volunteered to go back to the SUV and find enough things for Ricky to change into after a shower. But Ricky knew Jake would never be able to sort through all of those clothes. Both went downstairs to the garage and within a few minutes, Ricky had come up with enough to have a change of clothing for a couple of days. The guest bedroom had its own bath, which Ricky enjoyed. He showered and returned more refreshed to the kitchen.

"How about some dinner, mom?"

"Jake, I am not hungry honey, but you boys find something for yourselves."

"Mom, you haven't eaten anything all day."

"I know, but I don't really feel like eating now, much less cooking it."

"I'm a great cook, Mrs. Lawson. I had to learn to do a lot of things around the house by myself when I was growing up. I am going to do everything I can to help out the few days I am here.

"How about some homemade spaghetti?"

"That sounds damn good," Jake said.

"That is sweet of you Ricky, If you fix it, I will try to eat some," she said.

With that, Ricky tried to familiarize himself with the kitchen. The men chatted along as Jake pulled out two beers from the refrigerator. Ricky started in on the spaghetti, chopping onions and cooking the spaghetti noodles. Within about forty-five minutes, the table was piled high with homemade spaghetti, fresh bread, buttered with garlic butter and a very nice salad. Mrs. Lawson was quite impressed and was able to eat a fair amount.

While Ricky was starting to clean the kitchen after dinner, Jake's cell phone rang. It was Bill Carnes on the other end. Jake walked out the back door of the kitchen to chat with him.

"How have you been Bill, haven't seen you for a while."

"Been doing very well, got a promotion."

"Yes, I heard about that from Moran. I supposed congratulations are in order."

"It's quite a promotion. Very bid deal down at the office, I think there are a lot of agents just plain jealous of it, to be honest."

"Bill, that's just human nature, don't let that worry you."

"Oh I don't worry about stuff like that, just take it in stride."

"Jake, I need those disks."

"Certainly, not a problem. I offered to deliver them to Moran, but Moran insisted that you would be around to pick them up."

Jake, knowing how Bill was so impressed with himself said, "These disks must a very top priority if they send you down here to get them."

"Yes, you are right, they had to send someone down that knows what they are doing."

"Of course, so are you going to come over and pick them up?"

"In fact, I'm in your neighborhood now, I could be there in about ten minutes, if that would be OK."

"Sure, I will get them out of the safe. Just drive up the driveway and go around to the back of the house, I will be out by the garage."

"Great, I'll be there shortly."

As Jake ended the cell call, he walked into the garage and opened the door to his father's office. The old safe had been there for years, and he always wondered, should the family ever move from that house, what would happen to the safe. It would probably have to be sold along with the house. Other than that, a crane would probably have to remove it.

His dad had the combination changed many years before after he purchased the safe. Jake could never forget it. The numbers were the same as a woman's perfect shape, 38-22-36. Easy to remember and hard to forget, his dad always said, just like Marilyn Monroe.

Spinning the dial to the right, as he had done many times, he landed on the bust size first, then back to the waist and finally on the hips. Turning the lever to the left, the safe opened. Ricky had placed the disks on the top of the money in the gym bag, so it was easy for Jake to reach right in and grab them. Immediately closing the safe, he moved the lever back to its locked position.

At the moment he opened the safe, the tracking device hidden in the money became active and searched for the GPS signals to begin the sequence of reporting its position. Before the device could determine the coordinates, Jake had closed the door again, and the device shut down to its sleep mode. Not knowing, Jake had again averted a potential disaster, by exposing the location of his home. There would be a day when he would thank his lucky stars for this.

Bill Carnes pulled into the Lawson's driveway, as Jake walked back outside from his dad's office. With disks in hand, he waited for Bill, who, within a matter of seconds, drove around to the rear of the home and stopped his car. He got out, shook Jake's hand, and took the disks. He mentioned that he had just heard about Mrs. Pearson listening to the news on the car radio. Having known of the relationship between Senator and Mrs. Pearson and the Lawson family, he was kind enough to express his sympathy for them. Somewhat shocked to hear this, Jake never thought about the events of last evening and today would hit the news, but then he realized how high in political circles the Senator had been. He had only known them growing up as Aunt Maggie and Uncle Harold. As far a Jake was concerned, they were family. But to the nation, Senators are very high in the political realm.

Jake thanked Bill, then turning back to the house, walked up the rise to the kitchen door. Bill's car turned out into the street as Jake entered the house. This was going to be a big week ahead, he thought. He was glad to have Ricky there to help. He was quickly coming to the realization that he would need all the help he could get.
Chapter 17

The phone began ringing that Saturday evening, and continued throughout the next day. Jake was constantly thanking everyone, from their neighbors, to the highest of dignitaries in the government, for their sympathy. All the while, he tried to protect his mother from this onslaught of the calls. He knew that she would absolutely not be able to handle them, even though he realized that all of the callers had their best interests at heart. Sunday evening arrived, and Jake had just about all he could stand. He shut off the phones in the house, leaving just a recording machine to answer the calls. His mother had to rest, and rest she would.

Ricky had control of the kitchen and prepared all of the meals for Mrs. Lawson and Jake. Jane Lawson had commented to Ricky that the food was so good, that should couldn't help but eat. He loved to hear that from her. He really loved the approval from someone like her, the perfect mother, he thought, she was one of those perfect moms, one like he had always wanted.

Moran and Jake exchanged many phone calls from Saturday through Sunday evening. The calls mainly dealt with the funeral arrangements. For everyone's benefit, Mrs. Pearson had previously made all of her arrangements, in detail, for her last farewell. She had selected the church and the funeral home. Her lawyer had complete control, and every facet of the service had been pre-arranged. Of course, all costs were prepaid. Maggie had no living relatives except one aunt, who was incapacitated, in a nursing home. Therefore, she knew that she had to make all of her own arrangements. Leaving such a task to her dear friend Jane Lawson, would be terrible hardship for her.

Maggie's attorney had the body transferred to Washington to the funeral home after the coroner had released it. As was her wish, the Senate Majority Leader was contacted with information regarding the funeral. The church was being prepared for the service, in accordance with Maggie's wishes. By Monday afternoon, most of the details including news releases, had been completed. Her desire for a quick service was honored, and on that Thursday, the service was scheduled for 11:00 a.m.

The week passed slowly while waiting for the service. Jake accompanied Jane Lawson to the funeral home to have her final visit with her dear friend Maggie. This was a very difficult time for Jane, but Jake was there to comfort her. He never left her side, and she had his arm the entire time. Many friends greeted the Lawsons at the funeral home, some had traveled long distances to pay their respects to Mrs. Pearson. Overall, hundreds of people had been through the facility and signed the guest book. It was amazing. After an hour, the time for the visit had come to an end. Jake drove his mother back home. The only thing left for her to do now was to attend the service on Thursday, and close the part of her life that had so many good memories, so much love, and so much happiness.

Moran had, in the background, been extremely helpful to Jake and Jane Lawson during this time of grieving. He had talked with various dignitaries, along with friends of the Pearson's, to co-ordinate events with Maggie's attorney. Moran had also played a significant role in the funeral arrangements. Much had passed through his hands, and with his executive ability, along with working with the attorney, the funeral went very well. The service was very somber and beautiful, with hundreds of floral tributes placed throughout the church. A soloist sang the favorite hymns of the deceased. The pastor gave a stirring eulogy of a lady that had contributed much to her nation and her community. A fitting ending for a very wonderful lady, much admired, and now gone. The internment was at a private cemetery outside of Washington. Mrs. Pearson was laid to rest next to her husband for eternity. This was a very sad day, sad indeed.

Jane and Jake walked back to the car at the end of the service at the gravesite. Mrs. Lawson, sobbing as she walked, vowed not to ever forget her friend. Jake drove home in silence, as his mother wept from time to time during the drive. He wanted her to be in a better state, than the depression that she was now experiencing. How would he accomplish this, he wasn't good at this type of thing, maybe she just needed to be home, a change of scene from the funeral.

Soon Jake pulled into the driveway, and drove his car around to the rear of the house. Ricky was sitting at the picnic table when he saw the car. He walked over to the spot that Jake usually parked. Opening the door for Mrs. Lawson, he immediately noticed that she had been crying. The funeral must have been depressing for her, and he felt so sorry for her at the moment. Realizing though, people need to grieve for their losses. It is a part of life. Sympathetic to her, he was comforted by the fact that she was grieving. Those that cannot grieve at a time like this have a difficult time later.

Both men accompanied Jane Lawson into the house. Jake took his mom to her bedroom and offered her another pill to help her rest. He put the bottle on her nightstand and returned to the kitchen. She changed clothes, took a pill from his suggestion, then rested on her bed. Within forty-five minutes, she was asleep.

When Jake entered the kitchen, his phone began to ring. It was Moran.

"Jake, everything OK out there?"

"Yea Bob, mom is sleeping right now, I gave her a sedative."

"Good, I hope she can get some rest. I need to talk to you for a minute, if I could.

"Sure, not a problem."

"You know that I have been in constant touch with Maggie's attorney since her death. He just called me a few minutes ago. I didn't know it, or even think about it for that matter, but he is the executor of Maggie's estate. Jake, you and your mom are in the will. From what he tells me, there are very few people in it. Harry and Maria are in there, and I think her aunt, but no one else. Oh, I forgot, the horses are in there for crying out loud. She made provisions for those horses.

"Santa, Maria and Pinta. Yes, I can understand why, she loved them so much," said Jake.

"Apparently so. Anyway, the reading of the will is scheduled for Saturday morning 10:00 a.m. at his office downtown. He asked me to call you and let you know, and requested that you and your mom attend, of course."

"Well thank you for that, and thank you for all of the other things you have done for us during the last week. I really appreciate everything. I know you have been involved in a lot of the arrangements. I just can't thank you enough.

"Jake, your mother could never have handled all of that, it was too complicated an affair for one person. The attorney had his staff working on it for days. I think everything went smoothly though, didn't you?"

"Absolutely, it was a very beautiful service, something to remember. Thank you again."

"Well it was my pleasure."

"I will tell mom about Saturday, and if you talking with the attorney, please let him know that we will be there."

"I will Jake, you take care of yourself and your mom."

"I will Bob, and thanks again."

Ending the call, Jake explained to Ricky about the call.

"Brother, I didn't even think about it, but Aunt Maggie has me and mom in her will."

"Frankly Jake, I would have thought that she would. She loved both of you so much."

"Well, the lawyer is reading the will in his office on Saturday at 10:00am. We have to be in D.C. for that. He said that her aunt, Harry and Maria were the other heirs. So it is going to be interesting to see what happens. You know she's worth millions, not to mention the value of that farm. That property alone has to be worth several million."

"Damn, you might not ever have to work again."

"I don't know, I just don't know at the point, we will just have to wait and see."
Chapter 18

Two days after the funeral services, Saturday morning, things had quieted down considerably. The phone had stopped ringing off the hook, the flowers were beginning to show sings of wilting, and when Jake went to the mailbox, there were no sympathy cards.

Aunt Maggie had thought of everything. She had paid the attorney's staff to prepare, and send out all of the thank you notes for those who had signed the guest book at the funeral home, and for those many floral arrangements that had been sent. Every detail had been taken care of. There was nothing left for Jane Lawson or Jake to do. Jane was not surprised at Maggie's preparedness, it was just the manner in which she did things. Jane quietly thanked her dear friend in her prayers for having given her this final gift.

The drive to D.C. that morning was without too much conversation. Jane sat in the passenger's seat of Jake's car thinking about all that had just transpired. She wondered what would happen in the attorney's office. It did not surprise her, that Maggie had mentioned her in her last will and testament. They had been friends forever. She and Maggie were just like two sisters, she thought.

From her husband's estate, Jane had been left a sizable insurance policy, along with a large portfolio of stocks and bonds. Her home had been paid in full. She was quite independent, and had the means to live very comfortably. It was considerable. She had Jake now living at home and working in the city. The security of all of those things had given her peace lately, peace until the death of her dearest friend Maggie.

Arriving at the attorney's office, Jane and Jake were ushered into the conference room. Maria and Harry were already there. After many hugs and moments of sobbing from both women, all were seated. Jane sat next to Maria and held her hand, as Maria was far from over the recent events. She had been very upset by the tragedy and continued to be so. Time would help, thought Jane.

The attorney's came in and greeted everyone attending. He of course stated that the purpose of the meeting was to read the will. The will was recently dated, just a few months prior. Maggie had for some reason just revised her old will, which had been discarded and replaced by this new one. The attorney started to read it in its entirety.

After the section describing the executor and the powers that he had been granted, he got to the paragraph about her estate. There were only five heirs in the will, four of which were in that room. The only other heir was Maggie's aunt, who, according to reports from the nursing home, was suffering from advanced stages of cancer, and was not expected to live another three months. Maggie, realizing this, only set aside a small portion of her estate for her aunt, enough to cover any funeral expense that may occur, and any unpaid expenses at the nursing home.

As the attorney read on, Maggie had left Jane Lawson the farm with all of its improvements along with all furnishings therein, and all of her personal belongings. In addition, she set aside two hundred fifty thousand dollars for the upkeep of the property and the horses, all to be managed at Jane's discretion. In addition, with a value of three million dollars in cash, bonds and other securities, fifty percent was left to Jane Lawson. Maria and Harry each received cash and securities in the amount two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Jake received the balance of one million dollars that was left in the estate. Maggie had previously prepaid the attorney fees, probate costs and other expenses related to handling her estate.

Jane Lawson sat shocked at the amount and began crying at the thought of all of it. Maria quickly followed suit and the two of them caused the meeting to be paused. Soon, after much hugging and consoling between the two ladies, the attorney concluded the reading and brought the meeting to an end. The attorney vowed to keep all of the heirs appraised as he proceeded with the distribution. Obviously, there were court documents he had to complete to settle the estate. He speculated, however, that due to the completeness of the preparations that Maggie had done, he expected that the estate would be closed within six months.

On the way back home, Jake was thinking about Aunt Maggie and how he had been left a million dollars. Then he thought about the million and a half that had come out of her safe. Maggie had told Ricky that she wanted him to have it. He really didn't know to handle all that dough, other than to talk with Ricky, who, no doubt, would have suggestions, from an accountant's standpoint. After all, he was the bean counter. He should know about these financial things.

The following Monday afternoon, Jake headed out the kitchen door to the picnic table. In one hand, he carried two bottles of beer, clinking in unison, with his stride. It was the beginning of the week after the funeral. And, on that hot summer day, it just seemed to be the right time for a beer. A large oak tree shaded the picnic table and provided a cool retreat from the afternoon sun. Handing a bottle to Ricky, they both began to sip the cold beer.

"Ricky, I wanted to talk to you about the money."

"You mean the money Maggie left you, or the other money, the money in the bag."

"The money in the bag. What are we going to do with it?"

"Give it to Moran," said Ricky, "that is what I would do with it."

"Well, that is what I wanted to talk about. I have been thinking quite a bit about the cash. As far as I have been able to learn from Moran, he knows absolutely nothing about any of it. Nothing at all."

Ricky again, sitting and thinking, for a moment, then began to speak. "Are you saying we should keep it?"

"I can't give Moran Aunt Maggie's money, that was hers. If we gave that to Moran, some government agency would confiscate it, and without any question, they would piss it away on something useless, like they do everything else."

"I am sure of that. The government has no problem spending other people's money. But Jake, the other money is dirty money, as far as I am concerned it's evil. Look at the number of deaths surrounding it. All of it's dirty except Maggie's money. Didn't she say something about leaving that cash to you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact she did. I think you and Maggie discussed depositing it in an offshore bank with my name on the signature card," Jake recalled.

"Yes, I remember. So take Maggie's money, that was in the safe, out of this equation."

"I just don't know exactly where the other money came from but I bet is cartel money out of Central America" Jake remarked.

"How do you know its cartel money?"

"Well, think about it, one of the men murdered in Aunt Maggie's study was Toru, a rather well known courier. We know he brought the disks."

"But what about the money?" Ricky wondered.

"Certainly Aunt Maggie would not have had over a million and a half in a backpack, just sitting around the floor of her study. I figure Toru brought it. And we know from Moran, Toru was delivering the disks from South America. I'm just putting two and two together here, that's all. The disks came from South America, so why couldn't the money as well. The cartels are down there and they are the only ones that could haul around that much cash and get away with it. So the money is probably money that was due to be carried to Mexico in payment for drugs or something. I would bet you on that."

"You mean Toru brought that cash all that way?"

"Yea, it was in the backpack. There was some other stuff in there too. Personal items in a little satchel. There was a razor and a toothbrush, and other personal items. I saw it when I put the gym bag in dad's safe. A man had to have carried that backpack, not a woman. He must have had it because there were times when he would have to carry it on foot. It would be easier to have the dough and a few personal items in that backpack."

Ricky, sipping on the beer, took a moment for all of this to sink in. "What about the money I got out of that car on Maggie's driveway, what about that money?"

"Well, that was what tied it all in for me, Ricky. That's what did it. The man that was driving that car was the same person who killed Aunt Maggie and Toru. I really don't believe that he was after the disks. I think he was a cartel thug, after the money. He must have followed Toru from place to place. Toru obviously out foxed him all along the way, until he got to Aunt Maggie's. Toru had been a courier for many years. He was known to be illusive, like an escape artist. I figure he knew someone was following him. I think he wanted to get rid of the backpack for a while until the heat was off from the cartel. Maybe he wanted Aunt Maggie to stash it for him. That's what I think."

"So you think this is a cartel thing then? And, the money that was in that car in the driveway was cartel money too."

"Right. It's drug money. Probably a local cartel or gang member was assigned to track down the money. He must have followed Toru to Aunt Maggie's. Then the thug came in and surprised the two of them and shot them. Aunt Maggie finished everything off with one bullet from her derringer, right between that dirt bag's eyes."

"Well that sounds like what may have happened, but you are not sure, are you?"

"From all the facts, there is hardly any other conclusion" Jake said, finalizing his thoughts.

"My question though, if this guy Toru was so slick and illusive, as you say, how the hell did the thug find him? The car he was in had Virginia tags, that means this dude was from Virginia, not Central America."

"Just goes to show you Ricky, how the communications flow within the cartels. Those dirt bags are assigned areas. They communicate just like you and I communicate, by phone, or smoke signals if they have to."

"OK, well that makes sense, but back to the money, what will happen to all that money."

"I have been thinking on that, and I really can't come up with any ideas."

"Yea, I thought I smelled wood burning when I have been around you lately."

"You creep, can't you get serious for one minute without giving me some shit?"

"OK, mister wooden head, go on about the money."

"We can't deposit millions of dollars into our checking accounts. Now can we? The bills are big. There is bound to be suspicion if we tried to spend them. On top of that, it would take years and years to just spend all that much money on a day to day basis. I was hoping that you had some idea what to do with it. You are the damn accountant pencil pusher here."

"Lets see, mister potato head, can't figure out what to do with the money. Let's see now. You are right about Aunt Maggie's cash. That really doesn't belong to the government. They didn't do a damn thing to have the right to any of that. That money was payment to her for things she did to help our government. Technically there may be taxes due on it, but she said that would open a can of worms if she filed a return, with that as income. So, we can take that out of the equation. Now we get to the backpack and the car trunk money. That really doesn't belong to the government either because it is drug money from Colombia or somewhere, am I right so far?"

"I'm with you on everything so far."

Ricky continues. "I think that we should put the money in an off shore bank. Moran knows how to do that. I am not really aware of how he sets them up. He does it all the time in Belize. I had to transfer funds from one account to another the entire time when I was in Atlanta. Big stuff too, not just a few thousand, it usually amounted to millions. We would still have to rely on Moran for help. You need to have the proper contacts in those banks. Those big deals need special handling."

"You know Ricky, that reminds me of someone, do you know Leon down in Belize?"

"Leon who?"

"Leon Richardson, he works for Moran every now and then. He used to be in the Navy with me. He is retired, living in Belize. He's running a whorehouse down there now."

"Hey, lets pay him a visit, maybe we could get a free blow job or something."

"That's funny. You probably can't even find your penis to pee with, so how do you think some girl is going to be able to give you a blow job?"

"Shut up, smart ass. You are just a stupid smart ass."

"Back to Leon. He helps Moran with the banking thing. He has some contacts in Belize, lawyers, bankers and government officials down there. They do business with Leon at the whorehouse on a regular basis."

"I bet that place is busy" Ricky stated.

"Yea, from what Leon tells me, he is hauling in the dough."

"I would think so, that's the oldest profession in the world. Always been a money maker."

"Let's get back to the subject for a minute?" Jake demanded.

"OK, go ahead with your thoughts."

"Just saying, I could get in touch with Leon by e-mail and ask him about dropping a bag off at his place. I would like to know his response. If we flew down there in my plane, by law, we would have to go through, and clear customs first, before anything else. Leon's place is right on the path to the airport in Belize City where customs is located. He lives north of Belize City in the damn jungle up there. He does have a landing strip that he constructed, a nice long strip. You could land a twin engine turbo in there with no problem. The strip is grassy, but if you know how to fly in on one of those, it's not too bad."

"So you are saying we fly your plane to Belize, is that right?"

"Right, and timing is everything. We will have to move into and out of Leon's strip quickly. If we file a flight plan, and we didn't get to the Belize airport on a timely basis, someone would come looking for us. If they found that bag, all hell would break loose. I mean things would break loose. So, we need to set this up right, "

"Are you saying we land at Leon's first, drop off the bag, then take off again immediately for Belize City?"

"Yes, we would land just long enough for Leon to meet us, take the bag, and fly right back out, headed for Belize City. When we land at the airport, we would then clear customs, file another flight plan, fuel up and head back to Leon's. Leon has a huge house and I am sure that we could stay there for a while. He wouldn't mind."

"Is that where the whorehouse is?"

"You horny little bastard. Is that all you can think about?"

"I guess since you had that sex change operation Jake, you don't even know what to do with yourself. Oh excuse me, pardon the pun."

"You prick!" exclaimed Jake.

"Well, thanks for that compliment, my man. Let me think about all this Jake, I really don't want anything to do with that money, to be honest, it's connected to the devil. It is dirty and evil."

"Brother, if we give it to Moran, the government will piss it away. And it really isn't the government's to piss away. We have been over and over that. If we could bank it down there, that would take it out of circulation. Moran would be out of this deal. He wouldn't have to know anything about it. By doing that, we will throttle down the devil. When it moves, it causes problems. We've seen that for sure, don't you agree?"

"Yes, if it's in a bank, it can't be a factor in someone's murder I guess, maybe you are right."

"I know I'm right. We will try to put it in a couple of offshore accounts, we could split the money and you could give your half to charity if you wanted to, I could care less. Same with me, I could give mine to a soldier's fund or something, we could wind up doing some good with it."

"That would definitely counteract the effects of the devil. Good thinking, I like that. Like I told Moran, it is the love of money that is the root of all evil, not the money itself. Neither of us are in love with that money," Ricky said, now convinced.

"So, we will take that evil money off the market then. It's settled then, I'll contact Leon. By the way, is your passport up to date?"

"Sure, everything is current on that."

"Good."

"Ask Leon for some coupons to the whorehouse while you are at it," said Ricky sitting there with a big grin.

"I don't think Leon does coupons you idiot, just cash."

"Just my luck, always paying full price for everything."

After chugging the last ounce or two of beer, the two walked back to the kitchen door still talking about Belize. Ricky had never been there. In fact, he had never been anywhere like that.

Ricky reflected on the recent events, and how much had gone on in a short period of time. It seemed like things were moving at a faster pace now. There was so much to think about. He was an organized person. He liked to put the round pegs in the round holes and the square ones in the square holes. If things moved too fast, he could lose control of his thoughts. He would have to sort things out now, justify things, in order to move on. He just needed a little time.
Chapter 19

Before dinner, Ricky wanted to take a shower. It had been a hot day and he just wanted to cool off. The shower was the answer. Both he and Jake walked up the stairs to their rooms. Ricky, preparing for his shower in the guest bathroom, heard Jake, yelling for him. "Ricky, come in here, I am writing an e-mail to Leon, need your help."

Wandering down the hall, Ricky entered Jake's room. Jake was sitting at his desk at the computer with his e-mail program running on the screen.

"I am going to tell Leon that both you and I want to talk to him on the video phone. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, that's fine, do you have a teleconferencing setup on your computer?"

"Yea, you probably had used the same program down in Atlanta. Moran set up this program up for me on this computer."

"I know exactly how it works. It's very secure too," said Ricky.

"That's the point, it is secure. I don't want to e-mail Leon that we are flying down to Belize with a gym bag full of money. E-mails can be easily hacked. If we were found out, it would be hell to pay."

"Yea, that's why I don't like all this, Jake. There's a good possibility that we could get caught."

"If we are smart brother, we won't get caught. Anyway, I am going to write him to arrange a teleconferencing session for a certain time. He will let me know when that will be."

Jake started the e-mail to Leon requesting that it was urgent that Leon reply as soon as possible. Jake asked when might be a good time for I-com. I-com was the group's code name for teleconferencing. He indicated that he had a new friend that would like for him to meet. Clicking on the send button, the e-mail was on its way.

"We will just have to wait until Leon can get back to us," said Jake.

With that, Ricky went back to the guestroom and started his shower. Waiting for a reply, Jake did some work reconciling his checking account on the computer. Within ten minutes after he had finished, an e-mail notification popped up. It was a reply from Leon, who stated I-com OK for five minutes from that time. Leon would initiate the call.

"Ricky, get your ass in here, quick."

Ricky just leaving the shower was completely naked. "Let me get some clothes on," he yelled.

"Just wrap a towel around your ass and get in here. Leon will call in just a minute."

Ricky, doing as he was instructed, fetched a big white towel out of the bathroom. He wrapped it around his waist, then hurried down the hall to Jake's room.

"What the hell, I just got out of the shower. I'm soaking wet."

"Who said you have to be dry to talk on the phone, stupid."

Just then the teleconferencing session began with an audio notification that Leon was attempting to contact them. Jake pointed and clicked the mouse to answer the call and the session was in progress. Ricky pulled up a chair and sat next to Jake as the call started.

"Hi Leon, how are you old buddy?'

"Great Jake, you are looking good."

"So are you, I was expecting you to look a lot older, hadn't seen you in a while."

"It's the women and the liquor."

"Oh, maybe I should try some of that, it is usually just beer for me," said Jake.

"Is that a naked man sitting next to you?" Leon asked.

"Yea, that's Ricky, my little brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother Jake?"

"I don't, he's a brother like you and I are brothers."

"So he's a Navy man then."

"No, but I am working on him."

"Jake I am beginning to worry about you. You are talking to me on the videophone, and you have a naked man sitting next to you. Have you switched to the other side, old buddy?"

At that, both Jake and Ricky broke out in laughter.

Jake attempting to explain, said, "Ricky just got out of the shower. You called back quicker than we thought. He had to hurry in here to answer the call. He didn't have time to put his clothes on."

"I just thought, maybe you had called down to invite me to your wedding there for a minute. I couldn't help but notice how cute he was. Thought you two were tying the knot, or something."

"If that's how you Navy guys think, then I can't imagine what goes on in those bunks at night on those ships," Ricky said smiling into the camera.

"Son, I've got whores running all over the place down here. I'm so busy with them, I would never think of going down a different path."

"Sounds good to me Leon. By the way, do you give out discount coupons?"

"Hell no, Ricky" was Leon's response, with a loud burst of laughter.

"Leon, I told this jerk that it was cash on the barrel head if you had anything to do with it," said Jake, butting into the conversation.

"You got that right, Jake, you got that right."

"Leon, we need your help. I have a gym bag full of bills up here, if you know what I mean."

"I know what a gym bag is Jake, but I have never seen one full of bills."

"Well this one is, it's a long story. It's a very long story. We can talk about that later. Anyway, there are so many bills, that we are not able to handle them up here. We thought that if we brought them to Belize, you would help us put them away. You know a lot of people in high places down there, particularly in the banking industry. Do you get my drift?"

"I think we could work that out, don't see too much of a problem at this point. Just how do you intend to get them here, those bills that is?"

"Ricky and I would fly them down in dad's plane."

"That puddle jumper? You would never make it. And besides that, it would take forever."

"Dad had an extra tank installed in back of the luggage compartment. She will fly twelve hundred nautical miles now without refueling. You know it's a good plane, turbo prop."

"Yea, I forgot he traded to that T182T not to long ago. Nice turbo craft, a lot faster."

"Yes, it will do about 175 without pushing it too hard."

"Will you be coming in from Brownsville or from the Tampa area?"

"I have looked at both, and I think that we will stop at for fuel at Brownsville, then follow the coast of Mexico on down."

"Stop by Cancun, will you? Pick up some new whores for me. Some of mine are getting worn out."

"Business must be good then, down there?"

"It is. By the way, if you stop at Brownsville, say hello to our brother Donnie for me. He's a good old ass, always full of himself, though."

"That's where we plan to stop, at his hanger. He will be able to check the plane out for me."

"He's good, that's for sure. I think you are smart flying down the coast, if you ran into a storm or something from the Tampa route, you ass would be down in the middle of the gulf. That could be bad news, I would think."

"Bad news for sure. As fat as Ricky's ass is, he would sink us right away."

"Oh, Ricky since you don't have any clothes on right now, do you think you could turn around to the camera and let me see that pretty big ass of yours?"

"You bastard, you are worse than that damn Jake."

After a few moments of uncontrollable laughter from Leon and Jake, the conversation continued about the upcoming trip to Belize. It was decided that Jake would fly in low on his approach to Belize City and land at Leon's. Leon agreed to meet the plane at the end of his strip. If possible, the two would never leave the plane, just drop the bag, turn around and immediately take off. Leon's strip was far enough away from the tower at Belize City that no one there would even think about not seeing the small plane on radar for a minute or so. Even if they did, Leon flew in and out all the time from his strip and knew all of the controllers. All he would do is simply make one phone call and there wouldn't be any problem at all, none whatsoever.

The plans were set. Ricky and Jake spent the next few days preparing for the flight. In about a week, they would fly out of the Manassas airport, with the destination of Belize. Jake would have to tell his mom. He thought about how she would react to the news, that he would be gone for a few weeks. But, her emotional state had improved every day since the funeral. Also, she had invited her sister to come and stay for a while. The two ladies planned to go to the farm and meet with Maria and Harry. Maria didn't want to go back inside the house without someone there. She just couldn't bring herself to walking into the study alone. So it was nice that the two ladies were there to help her. They understood how she was. Maria had been there with Maggie for all those years.

Jane and her sister wanted to stay for a few days down there to see about the condition of the farm. Jane knew it would be tough to try to go through Maggie's personal things, and the support from her sister being there to help, would be welcomed. She needed to make sure that all of the utility bills and other mail had been collected. Plans for Maria for the future needed to be discussed. Jane didn't think that Maria wanted to stop working, even though Maria had inherited a tidy sum. All of those things could be worked out with a little effort from all concerned. Things were moving along, and with time, life would be back to its regular order.
Chapter 20

On Tuesday, the heat was already starting to build at 8:00 a.m. The humidity was up too. It reminded Ricky of those hot and sticky mornings in Atlanta. He would start sweating on his way to work. He had liked living in Atlanta, but he wouldn't miss the summers there.

Jake keyed in Billy Woodson's cell phone number into his phone and hit the send button. In two or three rings, Billy's familiar voice came over the phone.

"Hello Jake"

"Hey Billy, how are you."

"Doing great. What can I do for you?"

"Planning a little trip south, and need your help filing the flight plan. I would like to come over this morning to talk to you, and make the arrangements."

"Sure, I can get everything ready for you, not a problem."

"Well then, I will run by there in about an hour. If you are too busy right now we can make it later."

"Oh no, I'm just working on ordering some engine parts, but will be done in a few minutes. Come on down."

"OK, I have a buddy of mine that I will be bringing, a guy that works for the same company as I do."

"Oh, one of Moran's boys, huh?"

"Yea, but he's not one of us. I am working on the little brother though, need to toughen him up."

"Gotcha, would like to meet him."

"OK. His name is Ricky, and we will see you in about an hour if I can round his ass up."

"Great, see you then."

Jake, after finishing his call with Billy, walked down to the guestroom. Not finding Ricky, Jake figured he was probably already in the kitchen fixing breakfast for everyone. He had been very good about the cooking, and the food was excellent.

Near the kitchen, Jake could smell the coffee brewing, and his mom chatting with Ricky. They had become very close in the short time that Ricky had been staying with them. Ricky had taken complete control of her kitchen and had prepared every meal. He had taken it upon himself to clean everything, even old glassware and dishes stored away in some of the cabinets. The kitchen was absolutely spotless. He knew where everything was, and he ran a tight ship.

"Morning honey, how's my angel."

"Morning mom" Jake giving her a little kiss on the cheek.

Ricky, busy at the stove never missed the comments about the angel or the honey thing, and was sometimes jealous of Jake for the attention that he got. He would just wait, during those comments. Those were things that he never heard growing up. Someone would soon change to some other topic of conversation, then he could switch gears and think about something else. When he thought about his teen years growing up, Ricky always felt a combination of anger, mixed with depression. Sometimes he would even have to force himself to think about something else.

"What's for breakfast, brother?"

"I've got ham and eggs this morning, with toast and coffee."

"Yumm, sounds good."

"Well sit down, it's coming right up."

"Jake, Ricky won't let me do anything in this kitchen. He has cleaned to whole place and takes care of all the meals. I just think that is wonderful."

"Yea mom, don't you think he would make some guy a good wife?" Jake chuckled.

"Jake, what an awful thing to say. He's been a big help to me, I don't know if I could have handled things as well if he hadn't been here."

Ricky, listening to every word, continued to prepare the plates for serving, doing so without saying a word. He was glad to hear that Mrs. Lawson had appreciated his help. As far as Jake's comment about him being some guy's good wife, he brushed it off. This was just more of Jake's stupid attempts at trying to be humorous, he thought.

"Jake, you have to stop picking on him, you are way to hard on him, you are just like your father. He wouldn't let off of people. I'm not saying he was mean, he just expected too much of people, not everybody can be a Seal."

"I'm not picking on him mom. I am just treating him like normal, nobody understands that I guess."

"I don't mind it Mrs. Lawson," Ricky said, as he passed her the plate of ham and eggs. "If he acted any differently, I would have to rush him to the hospital. There would be something terribly wrong with him. Somebody has to play the bully. I just don't pay attention to it."

"I'm not a bully," responded Jake.

"Yes you are, you are pushy and mean."

Somehow Jake could dish it out but not always was he able to take it. If he sounded as pushy or mean, he did not intend it to be. He was angered that no one could understand him. He suddenly turned a little red in the face, which accentuated his dark green eyes. It was just a difference in personalities. Jake was without a doubt, a type A, while Ricky was at the complete other end of the spectrum. They were like odd and even.

Ricky passed Jake his plate, pretended to start sobbing with his hands cupped over his eyes.

"See mom, he's turned into a puddle of crap," Jake quickly coming back to normal.

"Boo-hoo," Ricky started to become louder with the performance.

"The eggs taste like shit, too. Don't see how you can eat them mom."

"Jake, cut that out, the eggs are delicious" she said.

Ricky's pretentious sobbing suddenly changed as he broke into laughter. "Well at least we don't have to go take him to the hospital, he's perfectly normal."

Jake sitting at the table with a fork in his right hand and a knife in the left hand. Both utensils were pointing straight up as he held them at the sides of his plate. The red was coming back in his face.

Mrs. Lawson, appalled at the two of them, said: "Both of you are like two big brats. I mean it. I have never seen anything like this. You are both in your thirties and you act like two little spoiled brats. If you both weren't so damn big, I would take you over my knee and give you both the spankings that you both deserve."

Jane Lawson was in her element. Like any good mother, she had her limit with these two boys. Jake, over the years, had many friends from school and from his days in the Navy, but she had never seen anything like this. It was hard to figure the two of them out. Maybe Jake had met his match, someone really not like him, but totally opposite of him. It was amazing to watch them.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Lawson, don't worry about Jake and me, he's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I feel like he's my brother. Maybe brothers are supposed to act like this."

"I'm sorry too, mom. He just irritates me sometimes. He's too analytical."

"Everybody's different, honey, don't try to force people to be what they could never be. Just accept them for who they are. Ricky has wonderful manners and traits. He has been a tremendous help to me over the last week. He is a really smart person, too."

"Hear that Jake?" Ricky interrupted, "just eat your damn eggs and shut the hell up."

With that comment, Jake simply started eating his eggs. He picked up the paper. Reading while he was eating, any evidence of the previous red face had disappeared. He sat there calmly reading and sipping his coffee, not saying a word.

"I give up" Jane Lawson said, "I just give up. You two boys are something else. I suppose that all brothers act like this. I mean real brothers, blood brothers. I know Jake, you honor your Navy brothers, but this is different. To be honest, I am glad for both of you."

Because of what she had just said, real tears began to well up in Ricky's eyes. He turned to the sink to wash a few dishes. He didn't want anyone to see those tears, it would tell too much. But Jake saw them, he knew to leave Ricky alone then. He just hid behind the newspaper.

Ricky had just he'd been awarded a real family, a real mom and a real brother. He accepted it gladly. There would finally be Thanksgivings and Christmas at home. Birthday cakes, and Easter Sundays. Cookouts on the forth of July. His mind went on and on, he couldn't wait to start life over. No, stopping to think, he wouldn't have to wait. It had already started. His new life had just started.

Ricky finished gathering the dishes, and Jake helped him load the dishwasher. Mrs. Lawson retired to her room. With the final kitchen cleanup, the two men walked outside the kitchen.

"We need to run down and see Billy, brother," said Jake

"Brother, I'm your brother now. Is that all right?"

"You told Maggie you always wanted a brother, didn't you?"

"Yes, I never had one, but if I ever did, you would be the one that I would choose."

"Oh yea, you know, I think I would pick you too."

"Good. So your mom thinks we act like brothers, we might as well be brothers."

"Brothers for life Ricky, we are brothers for life."

A big lump came up in Ricky's throat, "brothers for life for sure," looking Jake in the eye, while another tear began to roll down his face.

"Man up. Quit the crying. I have had enough of that crap this morning," Jake blustering. "Let's get down to the airport."

Ricky, now composed, walked with Jake to the car. Jake backed the car out of the garage, and the two men were off to the regional airport. Billy had checked the plane for fuel, and was in the middle of other checks, when the Jake parked the car at the side of the big hanger. The two walked around to the airstrip side of the hanger to Jake's plane.

"Hi Jake, just starting to check this baby out for your trip."

"Thanks Billy, by the way, it's going to be a long trip, can you fill up the auxiliary tank?"

"Sure. How far are you going anyway, that's a lot of gas."

"Belize. We going down to see Leon."

"Great, how is that old bastard anyway?"

"Just talked with him over the video phone and he's the same old person, full of himself."

"Billy, this is Ricky."

"Nice to meet you, Ricky. So you work for Moran."

"Yea, I been with the company for a little over two years now. I was based in Atlanta the whole time. Never got to know anybody up this way. Moran transferred me up here, that's how I met Jake."

"I've known Jake a long time, he's a pretty good guy, I guess."

Jake frowned at that statement, "Just pretty good, not great?"

"You'll do, I suppose" replied Billy, smiling.

"Well, at least that's a positive sign. You'll do too," said Jake, smiling as well.

Billy and Jake had gone a long way back. Jake's dad had done business with Billy for years before his death. Approaching sixty, Billy had been in the Navy with Jake's father. There was not much about an airplane that he didn't know. Now, it was Jake's turn as a customer, who depended heavily on Billy's expertise. It was difficult to file flight plans, but they were like second nature to Billy.

"Billy, we are leaving on Monday morning, early. I figure we can get down to Donnie's in Brownsville long before dark. We will stay there for the night and go on to Belize the next day. I talked with Leon and he agrees that we should follow the Mexican coast to Tampico. Then head over water to Cancun."

"Yes, don't fly over Mexico unless you get into trouble. Hell, you're liable to get shot down from the air flying over that damn place. With all the crap going on down there with the drugs cartels, it appears to me as pretty dangerous these days."

"It could be, I just don't want to be in that air space for any reason, if I can help it."

"That's smart Jake. From Tampico, just fly over to Cancun, from there, fly around the bend to Belize.

That should work out. I would say, if you need fuel, try to make it to Cancun and stop there. I know a couple of guys down there with a private hanger. If you want me to, I will contact them."

"Better not Billy, I can't clear customs anywhere. That airport has customs."

"Why, don't you have all your papers, your passport and flying certifications?"

"Sure, I have all that stuff, it's just that I am carrying some cargo that I don't think will pass customs, that's all. If the authorities found out what we were carrying, Ricky and I would probably be having an extended vacation down there, if you know what I mean. That's why I am flying down to Leon's first, then clear customs in Belize City later. I need that extra tank of fuel to make it. The range on the plane is 1050 miles. I estimate the trip from Brownsville to Belize is about 1200 miles. I need that extra fuel to make it all that way."

"You are always doing some kind of strange shit. First your dad, now you. He was always in the middle of something weird. I had to put up with all kinds of crap with him. I guess that's why I miss the old fart so much. You are the spittin' image of him Jake, the spittin' image."

"Yea, mom tells me that too. I miss him too, Billy."

"Yea. Now he was a great guy, and you are getting to be just like him."

"I'm trying Billy, I am."

Billy agreed to get the flight plan started right away. By that afternoon, between other chores in the hanger, he would have it done, and filed for the Monday morning flight. The last few items were checked off of Billy's list for Jake's plane. Later in the afternoon, Billy gassed up the aux tank then buttoned her up for the upcoming flight. She was ready, ready to go.
Chapter 21

The next few days were spent talking about the trip. Anyone looking for Ricky and Jake could usually find them late in the afternoons at their favorite spot in the back yard, the picnic table out on the patio. Today, Saturday, was no different. A humid day in Virginia, after a brief afternoon rain shower, the two of them were there at the table with beer bottles in hand.

"Ricky, I don't think we should pack too much, it would just add to the weight. In fact, if we need something, we could just buy it down in Belize. It's not like they are some third world country, there are tourist areas where people shop and such."

"It is not like we don't have any money either," Ricky replied.

"You have that right, we probably could buy the entire country with the cash we have."

"Jake, let's get the gym bag out and count the money."

"What? You know Ricky, you wouldn't make a very good poker player."

"Why is that?"

"It is bad luck to count your money while you are playing the game. You may wind up losing all or most of it, then you would be doubly disappointed."

"Just thought that would give us something to do brother, this seemed like a long week so far. I just want to get the trip behind us."

"Monday will be here before you know it. I wanted to be with mom until she leaves with Aunt Peggy for the farm. After I told her that you and I were going to Belize on Monday, she seemed upset. I couldn't think of leaving her here alone. All she has thought about was Aunt Maggie. Now that Peggy is here, she seems a lot better."

"I noticed that. All they do is talk, talk, and more talk." Ricky commented.

"Typical women, I guess. Anyway, I think it will be good for mom to get down to the farm. She told me that she dreaded going. Like Maria, she doesn't want to go into that study."

"I didn't either, but you made me."

"I suggested it, I didn't make you do anything."

"To hell you say, you called me some names, I think, and embarrassed me into going in there."

"Ricky, I swear, I just don't know how to make a man out of you. You are such a damn wuss."

"I am as much a man as you are Jake."

"Hardly, I don't want to waste my breath arguing with you on that, I just know differently."

"You don't know shit."

"Shut up brother, what were we talking about before you got us off subject?"

"About your mom and Peggy."

"Oh yes, since they are leaving tomorrow morning for the farm, we can spend what time we need to pack a few things. Just pack essentials, like your razor, toothbrush and such. Oh, I forgot you don't shave yet do you? You don't have the testosterone to grow any facial hair," Jake said, laughing, and thinking he hit one out of the park with that statement.

"Quit laughing, you asshole," Ricky demanded.

The two continued to poke fun at each other, laughing at their own comments, while sipping on the beer. Mrs. Lawson had concluded that this was just their method of communicating. Strange as it would seem, she was probably correct. They were like two old spinster sisters, one always trying to get the best of the other.

Sunday morning, Jane and Peggy, having packed for their trip to Shelby Grove Farm, asked the boys to take their luggage down to the car.

"What the hell do they have in these bags?" grunted Ricky as he lifted two of them into the trunk of Jane Lawson's car. "

"I don't know, for crying out loud, these three that I have, feel like they are full of lead weights."

"Shit Jake, you won't have to work out today. This will do it, just loading the car with these things."

"Yea, you and I are carrying a toothbrush and a comb to Belize, and these two have everything they own in these bags. They are only going to stay for a week, for crying out loud."

"They have to look good, you know how that is. They can't wear the same thing every day, heavens no. It has to be a different outfit for every occasion. And the shoes, how many pairs of shoes do you think are in there."

"Damn, I can't even venture a guess. Mom must have seventy-five pairs."

Finally Jane Lawson and her sister Peggy made it out to the garage. After many hugs and kisses and a tearful goodbye, Jane backed the car out of the garage and headed for Middleberg.

Ricky was becoming more nervous as the day went on. He was going on this trip to haul a ton of cash to Belize, open up an off shore bank account, and with any luck, visit a whorehouse. He knew full well that he would never have the nerve to accomplish something like that on his own. It wasn't that he couldn't do things, it was that he just didn't have the balls to carry them off. He knew that fact about himself, and was glad that Jake was the one to lead the way. Ricky was happy as a follower. With all of that bluster between the two of them, he hoped that Jake wouldn't think the worst of him for being just what he was, not too sure of himself.
Chapter 22

Monday morning rolled around, and the two were up early, at 6:00 a.m. Jake usually ran a few miles every morning, but set his usual activities aside to prepare for the trip. He had to lock up the house, and make sure that it was secure, as he had promised his mom. Having previously made a little checklist of things to do before he left the house, he checked them off one by one.

Ricky on the other hand, had gone to the kitchen, made coffee, and was sitting outside at the picnic table sipping a cup when Jake came out.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Jake asked.

"What does it look like, I'm drinking a cup of coffee."

"Well, I'm packed and ready to go. Are you coming with me or are you just going to sit there."

"I'm coming, I have already packed and made my bed. Everything is clean in my room."

"We have to go, mom doesn't care if I didn't make my bed."

"I bet she does. OK let's head out."

"I'm going down stairs to the office and grab that gym bag. Back my car out of the garage and make sure that all of the garage doors are locked. I'll be out there in a minute."

Ricky taking orders like the good soldier that he was, secured the garage and was waiting in the car for Jake. Soon Jake came out of the side door with the gym bag and threw it in the back seat."

"That damn bag is heavy. I was wrong in talking about mom and all the stuff she had. We are probably carrying as much weight."

"I know it's heavy, it has to weigh about sixty pounds at least."

Having been locked in the dungeon of the safe for a long time, the tracking device, hidden in the money, and still in the backpack undisturbed, came alive. With about a week left of life cycle for the batteries, the device started its triangulation of the GPS satellites just as the Jake's sedan turned out of the development and on the main road to the airport. In a few more seconds, it started transmitting data to a cell tower and was picked up by a computer that was scanning for the device. The coordinates were set and in exactly fifteen minutes, the device would repeat the actions and report new coordinates. The trip from Jake's house to the airport was about twenty minutes so there would be another report issued five minutes before they arrived. And sure enough, it started singing like a bird just as predicted.

Jake stopped at the side of the hanger. He and Ricky unloaded their cargo and personal gear, locked the car, and walked around to the front of the hanger. Billy was at the workbench working on some engine parts. Jake put the gym bag down in front of the workbench with their other two small personal bags.

"Billy, we're here," Jake exclaimed.

"I can see that, ready to go?" asked Billy.

"Yep, ready as ever."

"I just started her up and she's good to go, got the fuel in the extra tank too."

"Great, we can use that."

Ricky, walking around the hanger, was not concentrating on the conversation between Billy and Jake. Not ever having been in a hanger, the planes really caught his interest. He peered into the windows of the planes as Billy and Jake continued to talk.

"You had better get Ricky to use the rest room, that's a long trip Jake."

"I went before I left the house, but you know, he probably hasn't even thought about it. I'll have to make sure he goes."

"Oh Jake, by the way," said Billy, "I put a bag of condom catheters in the map pocket. The collection bags are in there too."

"I know I am going to hear a bunch of shit about that from Ricky, he better not pee in my plane. I will kick his ass if he tries anything like that."

"Just tell him to put the thing on, and pretend he's an astronaut. He will have to go sometime."

Jake yelled at Ricky to come over to the workbench where he and Billy were talking. He instructed Ricky to use the restroom.

"Do what you have to do quickly, don't sit in there and waste any time. We have to move out. Take that gym bag in there with you and don't let go of it. Billy and I have to start up the plane. I want to warm it up."

"OK," said Ricky picking up the gym bag. He headed on back to the restroom.

About that time, the device made another coordinate check and opened communications to a local cellular tower. Someone on the other end was tracking. The computer operator on the receiving end of the transmission fixed the location of the device at the municipal airport. A gang member of the cartel was dispatched to recover the money.

Jake and Billy went out the plane and went over the flight plane and the headings. Billy made a final check or two, then started the engine.

"That's a very smooth engine, Jake, she is really sweet."

"I know, always been reliable."

"Here comes Ricky, that bag is bigger than he is," mentioned Billy.

"Should have been a girl" replied Jake.

"Give him a break Jake, he seems like a nice enough guy, just a regular guy, not a Navy man though, you can bet on that."

"Yea, the closest thing he had ever been to water has been in somebody's swimming pool."

"Come on slow poke, we have to get the hell out of here. We're wasting fuel," said Jake, waving his arm at Ricky.

The gym bag was loaded into the rear seat of the plane. The two men boarded. At the controls, Jake throttled up the engine slightly, and it began to move out to the taxiway. Within a minute or two they were at the end of the runway and accelerating for takeoff. The turbo prop engine was doing what it was designed to do. With a smooth takeoff, they were soon on a heading south. Their first stop, Birmingham, AL. Flight time was a little over four hours, about eight hundred miles.

"Did you use the restroom?" asked Jake.

"Yes, do you want to know all the damn details?"

"Not really, you stupid dope. I'm not stopping this plane till we get to Birmingham. You should be able to hold it till then. Don't even thinking about pissing on that leather seat you are sitting on either."

Ricky just looked at Jake with a scowl on his face. "Why all this worry about me going to the bathroom? What is the big deal?

"What are you looking at?" asked Jake.

"You. Why so concerned about my toilet habits? Are you some kind of pervert or something, is there something that you haven't told me Jake?

"You're the only pervert I know. Ricky, you are so dumb sometimes, it amazes me. How anyone can do complicated tax returns and work with all those figures and have such a huge lack of common sense, is beyond me. These are long trips, and we can't stop to pee every five minutes. Don't know if you have noticed it, but have you seen any rest areas since we took off?"

"Oh yea, we just passed one, turn around, I have to pee."

"You idiot, you stupid idiot. You have shit for brains. You are just an idiot," said Jake, shaking his hand in the air, frustrated with the remarks.

"Maybe I'm doing you a favor Jake."

"What's that?"

"If you keep those panties of yours in a big wad like they are now, you can just pee in them and they will act like a big old diaper, a really big diaper for your fat ass."

"Get out of this plane, now" Jake demanded.

"What? We are thirty thousand feet up in the damn air."

"No we aren't, it is only about twelve thousand right now."

"I'm not going anywhere. You have some nerve taking somebody up in this piece of crap plane, and ask then to get out. What kind of shit is that?"

Jake broke up in an uproar of laughter. He just couldn't stop laughing. "I was hoping you would do what I asked, then I would be rid of you."

"Jake, I'm going to bust your ass some day, and you are going to be sorry as hell."

"I'm scared to death. Just frightened out of my damn wits."

After the conversation regarding the usage of toilet facilities, the tone of both men seemed to go back to a more normal state. For the rest of the trip to Birmingham, some civility crept into their comments to each other. This was on purpose from the two of them, as neither wanted to push things over the line this time. But then there would be many times in the future for arguments, many more.
Chapter 23

An hour was gained, as they crossed the Georgia and Alabama line into the Central Time Zone. They landed at 11:30 a.m., Birmingham local time, and Jake thought this difference would be helpful to insure as much daylight as possible for the next leg to Brownsville. They would be able to spend a little more time in Birmingham for lunch, and to make sure the plane was in good shape for the rest of the trip. Billy Woodson had arranged for them to stop at a privately owned hanger that boasted having a good mechanic. There was a pilot's lounge and snack bar, and the important restroom for Ricky.

Jake talked to the attendant at the hanger and made the arrangements for fuel. Ricky unloaded the gym bag, which still contained the deadly little device hidden in a money pack. All along the route to Birmingham, the device made many attempts to retrieve the signals from the GPS satellites. For the most part, the device was not successful at completing all of the sequences needed for transmission. Altitude, and distance from any cell tower, played a key role. However, several complete communications were made.

Ricky took the bag out of the rear seat and walked with Jake to the hanger. Jake had asked for a quick turnaround at Birmingham, and the attendants immediately began their checks and fueling. After about twenty-five minutes, having grabbed a quick lunch from the snack bar, Jake settled up with the hanger for services rendered. They soon were back in the plane taxing for takeoff.

"Thanks to Billy, that stop was quick," Jake mentioned, as the plane left the ground. "We need to get down the road. With any luck we will be at Donnie's in Brownsville long before sunset."

"Does this bucket of bolts have a radio or CD player? Quite frankly Jake, conversation with you is boring as hell."

"No it doesn't. Don't you start that stupid singing you do sometimes, either."

"Next time I'm bringing my karaoke machine."

"Not in this plane you won't. I'll throw it out the damn window."

"Jake, you are like an old maid. You cannot appreciate talent when you see it."

"Just shut up Ricky, I really don't want to listen to your shit. I have to fly this thing, remember?"

"Oh, sorry, you grumpy old bastard."

By 5:30 p.m., still in the Central Time Zone, Jake made his approach to the airport in Brownsville. In just a few minutes this long leg of the trip would be over. There would be another day of flying, but he needed to stop now for the night and get some rest. Jake loved to fly, but his father's training made him a little apprehensive about weather conditions, the condition of the plane and other factors. There was a danger of flying a small plane, even though the T182T was extremely reliable, anything could happen. He was always on guard when flying, and it was stressful. Ricky hadn't been the best passenger either, with all of his chatter.

Donnie was out in front of the hanger when he saw Jake and Ricky land. As they taxied up to the hanger, he guided them a spot on the tarmac.

"Good grief, it's good to see you Jake," exclaimed Donnie.

"Donnie, how the hell are you?"

The two hugged each other like they were long lost friends. Ricky just stood there quietly watching the show.

"Is this Ricky?"

"Yea, it's Ricky."

"Ricky, nice to see you," Donnie giving Ricky a solid handshake.

"Glad you guys came down. Any trouble along the way?"

"No, just had to listen to Ricky's big mouth the entire time"

"That couldn't have been too bad, anyway, welcome guys, come on in."

Ricky, now glad to be out of that plane from the long trip, seemed to know his job and grabbed the big gym bag along with his personal bag this time. They were going to spend the night there, according to Jake. He walked into the hanger and there was a small office and restroom at the rear. Looking around, there were no sleeping quarters or beds.

"Where do I put this bag, Donnie?" Ricky asked. "Are we going to sleep in here tonight?"

"Hell no, I brought my motor home in for you guys, it's around back in the parking lot. Bring the bag on out the back door here, and we can just store it away in the motor home."

Out back there was a huge motor home, over forty feet. The air conditioning was running and to Ricky, that was an excellent sign that he would enjoy the evening. After a tour of the big camper, it was obvious that it contained all the amenities that could be possible for its size.

"This is a fantastic unit, when did you get this Donnie?" asked Jake.

"Had it for a few months, it's still new, hardly used it so far," said Donnie, proud of his purchase. "Hey, why don't we go back to the hanger and have a couple of beers? There is a refrigerator full of them."

"Great!" Ricky and Jake exclaimed in unison.

"Hey Donnie, one of us needs to be with that big gym bag at all times. I need to take it with us back to the hanger," said Jake.

"Oh, is there something important in there?" Donnie asked.

Jake unzipped the bag and Donnie gazed down inside. The sight almost took his breath.

"Good grief" he said. "Yea, you need to hang on to that thing for sure. Let's take it back inside the hanger"

Minutes later, three tab tops, on three beers, popped open, as the men, in front of Donnie's workbench, began to wind down for the day. It had been a long day for Ricky. He had never flown in a private plane, and, like Jake, for other reasons, was apprehensive as well. This little break was welcome. Inside the bag, now sitting by the workbench, the tracking device was as active as it had ever been. With clear signals from the GPS satellites, the transmissions were timely and strong. As the men drank another round of beer, the device silently did its dirty little deed.

Ricky, needing to relieve himself, announced that he needed to use the restroom.

"Well take the bag in there with you and don't let it out of your sight. Donnie and I are going out to the plane and button her up for the night."

"OK," said Ricky, picking up the bag. "See you guys in a bit."

Tracking the money by the cartel was very active in the Brownsville area, as there were many more gang members there than areas further to the north. Someone at the home location for initiating the tracking must have been getting impatient. The money had been all over everywhere, from Colombia to Virginia. When would it stop moving? Not surprising, with the speed of flying the money from place to place, the job of tracking it down was more difficult and confusing. There seemed no logic to the movements. The software was recording every transmission of this batch, along with the movements of other money shipments by the cartel. Communications were wide open by phone, with the operatives in the Brownsville area. They were closing in.

Ricky, picking up the newspaper from the workbench, grabbed the gym bag and headed into the john. Closing and locking the stall door, he placed the bag in front of the toilet. He proceeded to settle in. Donnie and Jake went out to lock up the plane, and buttoned her down for the evening. Donnie would come in very early the next morning to take care of the maintenance, and fill her up with fuel for the final leg to Belize.

At the rear of the hanger, a black panel van pulled up to the parking spot next to the motor home. The driver, leaving the van, then became an intruder as he cracked open the back door and peered into the big space of the hanger. He saw Jake and Donnie talking out on the tarmac. The intruder looked around for a container, which might hold the cash. He covered the back of the hanger by ducking around shelving to avoid detection. As the intruder neared the workbench, he heard Ricky coughing in the rest room. The money had to be in there, with the person that had coughed. There was no where else it could be.

The restroom door opened with a squeak, from the old hinges that held it in place. Without a door closer attached, the door remained open as he entered.

"That you Jake?" came the voice behind the stall door.

The intruder pulled out a revolver from his belt and started kicking at the stall door. Ricky, knowing that this wasn't Jake, instinctively figured he was in trouble. He started screaming for Jake.

Donnie and Jake, just finishing with their chores, were almost back in the hanger when they heard the screaming. Jake ran toward the restroom, and before he could get to the door, a shot rang out inside.

Jake was now in sight of the intruder. He brought forth, from some personal hiding place, five shuriken. Also known as ninja throwing stars, one by one, and with lightening speed, they assailed the intruder. Jake had thrown with unbelievable accuracy. One nearly severed the intruder's right arm, causing the pistol to immediately drop to the floor. From a severed artery, blood began to shoot out of the man's wrist. The second star hit the man right across the eyes. The third, ripped across the jugular vein, while the fourth, pierced deeply into the chest at the heart. The last deadly instrument was aimed at his private parts, done with Jake's contempt for the man. The man collapsed, unconscious, bleeding to death.

"Get me out of here. Call 911. I've been shot. I need an ambulance!" Ricky screamed more loudly now, and was completely out of control.

"Open the door, Ricky, open the damn door."

The latch opened and Jake peered into the stall. There was Ricky, sitting on the toilet clutching his right upper arm with his left hand. A small amount of blood was just barely oozing between his fingers. The gunman had fired a shot trying to destroy the door latch to gain entrance to the stall. The slug just missed the latch, piercing the stall door, then grazing Ricky's right arm. It stopped when it hit a stud in the wall behind the toilet.

"Let me see that Ricky, move you hand."

Ricky peeled his fingers away for just a moment so that Jake could take a look at the damage. The wound was very insignificant to the point that it had already stopped bleeding.

"Just a scratch, Ricky, nothing to worry about."

"Take me to a damn hospital, you jerk, I've been shot, for crying out loud."

"Hey Donnie, come in here, I want you to see something funny," Jake said, trying to hold back the laughter.

Donnie wandered into the restroom. He saw the recently deceased intruder on the floor.

"Look in there Donnie," Jake holding back the laughter, "He thinks he's dying."

"Get me an ambulance you bastards, can't you see I've been shot?"

Ricky was sitting on the commode with his pants and boxers down to the floor. The big gym bag was behind his legs and in front of the throne upon which he sat. Still holding his right arm with his left hand, Ricky just sat there almost in tears, screaming obscenities to the both of them.

"He's not really hurt is he Jake?"

"Hell no, it's just a little scratch. Let's get some pictures of this. This is the funniest thing I think that I have ever seen. He doesn't even have a clue what it's really like to take a slug."

"Oh, leave the boy alone Jake, he hasn't had any training, he doesn't know about anything, really."

"Come on out of there Ricky, and pull your pants up," Jake demanded.

"I can't pull them up, I have to hold my arm to keep it from bleeding. You are going to have to pull them up for me."

With that, Donnie broke up in an uproar of laughter. Holding his chest with one hand and grabbing the wall with the other, his laughter was out of control. Jake followed suit and the two of them spent the next few minutes trying to regain their composure. Ricky, full of rage at that point, somehow forgot the tragedy that had just occurred to him. He got up, pulled up his pants, and stormed out of the restroom.

"Where the hell did you find this guy?" asked Donnie.

"It wasn't me, it was Moran that found him, don't blame me."

"Come on Jake, let's go see to the awful injury he has suffered."

Ricky was at the workbench looking at his arm when Jake and Donnie walked over. The laughter was over. Donnie found the first aid kit and proceeded to clean Ricky's wound. A large bandage was all that was needed to protect the area.

"Jake, what are we going to do with that body in my restroom?" Donnie asked.

"I though we could just leave him in there. He's not bothering anyone now," Jake said with a big grin.

"There's blood all over the floor and walls in there. I can't leave it like that," Donnie explained.

"He had to come in a car or something, maybe we could just dump him in the trunk and get his body out of here. Donnie do you have any plastic or something to wrap the body in?"

"Yea Jake, I have an old tarp, but that's about it."

"Don't worry Donnie, I don't think he expects anything fancy."

Ricky was just standing there in amazement while the two discussed the elimination of the body in the restroom. It was the damn money, he thought. Everywhere the money went there was a dead body. They had to get rid of the damn money along with the body, this time.

"Come on Donnie," said Jake, "let's see if he had a car out back. Bring three sets of rubber gloves, Donnie, we don't want to get fingerprints on that vehicle."

The men walked out the back door putting on the surgical gloves as they proceeded. There, parked next to the motor home, was the black panel van. The keys were in the ignition and Ricky noticed a small computer exactly like the one that he had taken out of the intruder's car at Shelby Grove Farm. He opened the passenger's door and took the computer.

"Jake, remember, I put a computer in the gym bag from the guy that shot Maggie and Toru?"

"Yea, I guess it's still in there, I never took it out. In fact, I never really noticed it."

"Well that one is the exact same make and model as the one I found at the farm."

"You know Ricky, come to think of it, it looks like the one that I took out of that muscle car that ran off the road near my house. He had one just like it, and I put that in the bag as well. We need to check that out. Not a soul has touched that bag since I locked it up in the safe."

"Let's get this van inside the hanger. Ricky, drive it around front and back it in."

Ricky having all but forgotten about the massive injury he had suffered while on the toilet in the restroom, jumped into the driver's side of the van, and drove it to the front of the hanger as instructed. On the way back inside the hanger, Donnie grabbed the old tarp.

The two men, still wearing the surgical gloves, this time for protection, walked into the restroom to retrieve the body. Jake quickly noticed a tattoo on the right arm of the corpse. The tattoo was of a serpent, coiled around a knife. He had seen that before, but he couldn't remember where.

Ricky backed the van into the hanger as Jake and Donnie were finishing with the corpse. They had removed the throwing stars, wrapped the body in the tarp, and had dragged it into the hanger from the restroom. Ricky shut off the engine, and Jake and Donnie started loading the body in the back of the truck.

"Ricky, go clean up these throwing stars up for me, there's blood all over them," Jake instructing Ricky while holding out his hand full of the deadly weapons.

"I'm not touching those damn things, they have blood all over them and no telling what that man had for diseases."

"Here Jake, dump them in this bucket. I'll soak them in some diesel fuel. We can clean them up later. The oil will coat them for now," offered Donnie.

"That's a good idea, Donnie, my dad gave me those things as a gift and they mean a lot to me. I sure as hell wasn't going to leave them stuck in that dirt bag in the back of that van."

Ricky wandered back over to the workbench, while the other two men shut up the van, now with its tarp wrapped passenger, and drove it back to its original parking place. Ricky opened the laptop, which immediately came to life, after having shifted from the suspend mode. A program started running as well. Ricky, bringing the program up on the screen, noticed that the screen was broken into two parts. A panel on the left, listing different values assigned, and a map on the right, with coordinates, street names, routes, etc. As he clicked on the values to the left, a different map would be displayed on the right of the screen.

"Look at this Jake, it's a map with coordinates. There are about ten different numbers on the left side that correspond to a particular map."

"Click on some of those numbers and let's see what they bring up."

Ricky clicked on several of the numbers to the left of the screen, and maps of Mexico, Panama and other countries in Central America were displayed with each number. The next one should not have been a surprise. The map indicated the coordinates of the exact location of the hanger in which the three men stood.

"My God, Jake, this one is right where we are standing."

"Man, you guys are being tracked, that's tracking software," Donnie said.

"How could we be tracked?" Jake asked.

"Probably in that bag you have been dragging around. I bet there's a transmitter in there."

"Ricky, dump that stuff out of the bag, we need to check it out now," said Jake.

Ricky started taking the stacks of money out of the bag. There was the backpack full of bills, the two small briefcases and satchel from Maggie's, along with the satchel and laptop from the trunk of the car at the farm. There was the muscle car laptop computer as well. Ricky unpacked all of the money from the various cases and placed them in neat stacks on the workbench.

The briefcases and satchels that had contained the bills were inspected, revealing nothing.

"Check the money, Ricky, I have heard they hide it inside the money," Donnie explained.

"The stacks all look good to me," said Ricky. "Wait just a minute, that one stack is taller than all of the others."

As Ricky pulled off the band surrounding the stack of bills in question, the transmitter fell out on the workbench. A fake stack of money had been constructed for the hiding place.

"There's the damn thing," said Jake. "There is our little problem. Let's get the battery out of there right now."

Jake, popping the battery compartment open, pulled out the lithium battery and the device was now dead. There were a few moments of silence from all three, as each tried to decide the next move. Finally, Jake spoke.

"Why don't we drive that van up the road a ways, then activate this thing again. We can leave the transmitter in there for that dirt bag's friends to find him."

"That's a damn good idea" replied Donnie. "For God's sake, we don't need a few more of them to show up here at my hanger. Jake, drive it up towards the terminal. Before you get to the terminal, there is a side road that turns to the right, which will take you out to the main road. There is a public park right at the entrance to the airport. Leave the van in that parking lot. I will drive my truck up there and pick you up. What do you guys think?"

"OK Donnie, follow me up to the park. We better move out," Jake said.

Jake started the van containing the tarp wrapped corpse, backed out of the hanger parking lot, and out to the main terminal service road. With Donnie following in his truck, they soon arrived at the parking lot of the public park. Jake, reaching into his pants pocket, retrieved the transmitter and battery. By replacing the battery, the device reset itself, and immediately began a sequence to obtain the coordinates. He placed it on the dashboard of the van to insure it continued its function. It was again working properly, reporting the new position every fifteen. Jake and Donnie returned to the hanger.

Ricky had already re-packed the gym bag with the money packets by the time Jake and Donnie returned. Donnie proceeded to hose down the restroom, and finished cleaning up the bloody mess with a bucket and mop. Jake called Leon using Donnie's satellite phone to let him know that they were with Donnie in Brownsville. When Jake finished talking with Leon, Ricky walked over to Jake.

"You know Jake, it is really true about the money. Those who love it, evil follows them. It causes death and destruction, and both those things have followed this money all along."

"Ricky, you and I have gone over this before, but my feelings are that we are going to take that money out of the hands of those who cause that death and destruction. If they controlled that money, how many people do you think would die in the future? So, you have to think, how many people have we saved, just by keeping it out of their hands."

"You know Jake, that really does make sense."

"Yes, it does. And you can donate yours to a charity that would help people. Ricky, with the transmitter now gone, I don't think we will have any more problems. Tomorrow, we will be in Belize with Leon. Things are going to get better from now on out."

"I hope so, I've been through more shit in the last couple of weeks than I have ever been in my life."

Donnie, coming out of the restroom with the mop and bucket, stored them away. He opened the refrigerator next to the workbench and withdrew three cold beer cans.

"How would you guys like a beer to celebrate?" asked Donnie.

"Celebrate what?" Ricky, returning the question.

"Kicking that dirt bag's ass in there. Jake did a great job in helping Texas with the immigration problems we have down here. That's one murdering son of a bitch that we don't have to worry about. I just hope that those gang members don't show up here. If the tracking software shows them that the guy was here, we are ready for them. I have more artillery in this hanger than any of them. They wouldn't stand a chance here, seriously."

"Well, we will know in a little while, there are probably more of them in this area, close to the border with Mexico, than there are up north, I would think," Jake speculated. "I'll bet they are right on top of that van as we speak. By the way Donnie, are we able to see that van from here?"

"Sure, it's right over on the other side of that field out back. Why don't we go back there, and take a look over that way."

Sure enough, as the three men walked out the back door, each sipping on a beer, there were several cars surrounding the van. None were law enforcement vehicles, just ordinary cars. Four men were walking around the van, and all of the van doors were wide open. One man crawled under the van and eventually came out the other side. Within a minute or so, they were all back in their cars and left the scene.

"Don't worry to much about them coming over here Donnie," Ricky said. "I took the dude's laptop. We have it here. Unless those laptops are updated from the mother ship, they just contain the local data. Let me check to see if I can tell when that thing was updated."

Ricky went back into the hanger to check out the computer. Donnie had nothing to worry about. The data had not been updated for over three hours. The gang members were using the machines to obtain local data after that time and probably used telephones to communicate. This computer was pulling information from cellular towers that reported the position, but the information that it had about the money being in the hanger had not been available to anyone else on that network. Ricky pulled out the battery pack and the machine had no power to function. Just then, Donnie and Jake returned to the hanger.

"What did you find out Ricky?" Jake asked.

"That this was the only machine recording this data, there had been no other updates to the main server for hours. However, we had better destroy this computer. Someone might get data off the hard drive. I took the battery out of it, it won't be able to communicate with any other machine."

"We'll take care of that," responded Donnie, "I can crush it now."

Taking the computer, Donnie placed it sideways between the jaws of his vise on the workbench.

Slowly turning the handle, the vise closed in on the laptop, crushing it internal workings into a pile of electronic rubble.

"That should do it," said Donnie. "It is history now."

Within thirty seconds of witnessing the destruction of the laptop, the three men heard several sirens from the direction of the rear of the hanger. Back outside once more, they saw a patrol car with lights flashing wildly in the parking lot containing the van. Then several other police vehicles arrived. The dirt bag would soon be gone. The men watched for a few more minutes, then returned to their beer drinking. Just one more can of beer for each, then they would retire to the comfort of the motor home. They had all had a long and busy day.
Chapter 24

Donnie stayed with his guests in the motor home that night, having loaded it with a wide variety of firearms and ammunition for protection. If the gang members were to show up, they were going to absorb some lead. He and Jake were excellent marksmen, both had trained in many forms of martial arts as well. Neither was concerned about their own safety, they only wanted to kick some ass. That evening was very quiet though. The threat, now gone, had been lurking over them the last weeks. The transmitter was gone.

Donnie was up at 5:30 am the next morning checking out the plane. He took her over to the terminal area to fill up with fuel. Ricky and Jake were still asleep when Donnie returned the plane to the hanger. He had bought breakfast sandwiches and orange juice from the snack bar at the terminal. Donnie decided to wake up his guests.

"Get up you two assholes. Rise and shine."

"Damn," Jake grumbled half asleep, "sounds like I'm back in the Navy."

"I've got breakfast out in the hanger, it's going to get cold if you guys don't get out there."

The two gathered up their belongings and the all important gym bag and followed Donnie back into the hanger. Sausage biscuits, coffee and orange juice hit the spot. Ricky walked the gym bag out to the plane and packed it away in the rear seat.

Jake had asked Ricky to take out five thousand dollars of the smaller bills and give them to Donnie. Walking the few steps from the plane to the hanger, Ricky handed Donnie the bills.

"What the hell is this?" Donnie asked.

"It's what we owe you for all you have done to help us" said Jake.

"I can't take this, this is way too much."

"Take it or I'll shove it down your throat, you old fart," said Jake.

"Thanks guys, I do owe a payment on that motor home, I could use some of it for that."

"Thank you Donnie for all that you have done to help us. We had better haul ass right now, we don't have any time to waste," said Jake.

"You are gassed up and checked out, the engine is warmed up for you."

"Thanks old buddy, I appreciate it," said Jake, shaking Donnie's hand.

"And you take care too Ricky, hope to see you again on your return trip."

"We have some business down there, but it shouldn't be too long before we are back up here. The beer has been too good to stay away for too long. Thanks for everything," said Ricky.

"You bet, you guys fly safe."

Continuing now on their trip, Ricky and Jake boarded the plane. Jake started the engine, and taxied down the runway. Soon they were in the air on a heading for Tampico, Mexico.

"Are you sure you have everything in that gym bag?"

"Absolutely sure, do you think I would leave a stack of cash just sitting around somewhere?"

"I can never predict what you would do about anything, Ricky."

"Hmmm," was Ricky reply.

"By the way, this is going to be a long trip. We are going to be flying for hours. I would rather not stop at Tampico, just for you to take a piss. So, Billy put some condom catheters in the map pocket in the door over on your side. There are two collection bags and some connecting tubing in a bag in there too. If you get the urge, put one of those on."

"You have to be kidding."

"What the hell is a condom catheter?"

"It's a condom with a spout sticking out the end. You hook one end of the tubing to the little spout, and the other end of the tubing to the collection bag. You just sit there and pee, and the pee goes down into the bag. That way you don't have to pee in your pants."

"You really don't expect me to wear that thing do you, for crying out loud?"

"Well you are not peeing on that seat that you are sitting on. If you do, it'll be the last time you peed."

"By the way Ricky, I had Billy put some really small condoms in there for you, the extra small child size, 'prepubescent', I think they call them. We wanted to get you something that would come close to fitting. They may be a little big, but it was the best we could do."

Laughing at his own remark, Jake couldn't help it. Ricky was such a good target. This one, he thought, had really nailed his ass for good.

"I just pissed in my seat, Jake."

"You what? I'll kick your ass. I never would get that smell out of this plane." Jake said, as his demeanor changed dramatically.

"Oh, don't worry about it tight ass, I already saw those rubbers with the spouts in the map pocket on the way down to Brownsville. I figured it out on my own. You have been such a bitch about the piss thing, I was beginning to believe that you get off on pee, or something. I have mine picked out, it's the super, extra, extra enormous size. I already put it on in the restroom before we left Brownsville. It's a little tight, but I think it will work for now, until we can get a larger size."

Ricky was now the one doing the laughing, because as it appeared to him, that he was the winner of that round. Jake sat there silently for a while, trying to think of a comeback, but the little shit always seemed to get the best of things. "What a smart ass, little bastard," Jake thought.

The guys ate their sandwiches around lunchtime as they approached Tampico. Flying several miles off the coast, Jake, with this southerly heading, followed the coast off to his right. He would turn to a new heading at Tampico, to avoid crossing over the peninsula at Cancun. They would then fly, over water, between Cuba and Cancun before heading west for Belize. They were well on their way. Just a few more hours, Jake thought, and he would land at his old buddy Leon's.

About 5:15 p.m., Jake turned to his new heading direct for San Pedro, a town on a barrier islands, in the northern most part of Belize. Leon's place was about fifteen minutes west, just off the coast. Passing over the barrier islands, Jake checked his coordinates for Leon's strip. He had flown in there before, but he didn't want to count on his memory for the exact location. After all, he was strictly following the flight plan that was designed to take him over his friend's airstrip, allow him to drop the bag, then takeoff immediately. From Leon's, they would maintain that same heading for the international airport in Ladyville.

The plane descended as it crossed the coast. Jake's new heading was in a south, southwest direction. Beginning to fly low, just fifty feet over the trees, Jake wanted to be as undetectable as he could be to radar. He supposed that he would be on the ground at Leon's for less than a minute. Approaching from the north, Leon's airstrip, north of Belize City in the Corozal District, was right on the heading to the international airport. Leon had constructed an airstrip at his home several miles from the coast, west of San Pedro.

"Why are we dropping down so low? If you get any lower we'll hit the damn trees."

"This is your chance brother, if you don't like it you can get out at any time."

"Just get us to Leon's, Jake."

"Remember, I told you what to do. We should be there in a few minutes."

"I know, Captain Jake, I'm supposed to jump out at Leon's, get the bag out of the back of this rattle trap and throw it at Leon. Then I'm supposed to jump back in the plane."

"Do you think you can handle it, brother? And you might consider just handing the bag to Leon, instead of throwing it at him."

"Yea, I should to be nice to him, he does own that whorehouse, come to think about it."

"By the way Ricky, Leon calls it a girly house."

"Oh yea? Still a whorehouse."

Leon had an excellent airstrip, must have cost him a fortune. It was a grassy strip but very well maintained. He had a generator installed along with strobe lights lining the strip on both sides. Leon had the generator running for about a half an hour before their expected arrival. The strobes were flashing brightly. Even in the afternoon sun, they were easy to see, especially at the low altitude.

"There's the strip, Ricky, there it is."

"Are those lights where the strip is?"

"Yea, that's Leon's place. We are right on the coordinates too."

Jake, really low over the trees now, brought the plane down quickly as he approached the strip. Leon's house was on the north end of the strip. Heading in from the north, as they were landing, Leon was out at the edge of the strip waving them on. After the landing, Jake quickly taxied the craft back to the other end of the strip and stopped. Ricky jumped out, retrieved the gym bag from the back seat, and handed Leon the bag.

"See you later, Leon." Ricky said as he handed him the bag.

"OK sweetie, see you in a little while."

As Ricky got back into the plane, he thought about that last statement from Leon. What the hell had he done, being mixed up with all of these Navy men. He had heard stories about their sexual escapades on the ships, and how they took advantage of the younger sailors. He hoped that this wouldn't happen to him, he didn't like the sweetie comment, for sure.

Within a matter of seconds, Jake piloted the aircraft back into the air on a southern heading. With the gym bag now safely in Leon's possession, they were nothing more, than average tourists. They had nothing to hide from the officials at the Belize airport customs department. When flying a private plane into a foreign country, it is standard practice to clear customs at an entry airport. They had arrived at the airport within a time frame that was in accordance with the flight plan. Therefore, passing through customs was uneventful. Jake had the plane refueled, and the men departed the airport headed back to Leon's. The sun was low in the western sky now, and lit up only the left side of the plane and the trees as they headed back to the north.

"This place is nothing but a jungle," Ricky said.

"You have that right, I don't think it's a good place to go camping. I bet they have some huge snakes down there under those trees."

"Gives me the creeps just thinking about it."

Soon the strobe lights could be seen in the distance, slightly brighter now that the sun was beginning to go down for the day. Jake started his approach and the aircraft dropped lower and lower until the back wheels touched the ground. Reducing the speed, Jake finally allowed the nose wheel to drop. The plane stopped about fifteen feet from Leon, who was standing out in front of the hanger that housed his own personal plane. The two guys exited the cabin of the aircraft, and walked over to greet their host.

"Leon, nice to see you, thanks for helping us out on this," Jake remarked.

Leon, giving Jake a big hug with both exchanging big pats on the back, said, "Jake it's so great to see you buddy, I am glad you came down here. I see you brought your old lady."

"Leon, I don't know if I would go there, if I were you," said Jake with a big grin.

"Yea, Jake, and he called me sweetie when I handed him the bag. By the way Leon, I'm no man's sweetie."

"I'm sorry Ricky, just kidding with you, you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad to hear that from you, Leon. I've heard all kinds of tales about Navy guys on ships taking advantage of the younger sailors in the showers."

"Not in the part of the Navy that Jake and I were in, you would never find that for sure."

"Were you a Navy Seal too?" Ricky inquired.

"Let's just say that Jake and I have a lot in common. We've done a lot of things together."

Ricky speculated, and correctly so, that Leon had also been a Seal. His big husky build was near that of Jake's. He had a neck was so thick, it was as big as his head. This guy, like Jake, must have spent the better part of his life working out, running and swimming to train up to the muscle mass that he was. Ricky decided to be nice to Leon, as he had mentioned to Jake on the plane, now he was in the company of two of these big men that could mangle him in about ten seconds if they wanted to. And besides, he was curious about the whorehouse.

"Come on in, let's grab a drink guys," said Leon.

Jake, having flown all day remarked, "I could sure use one, that trip was really long."

The two men followed Leon to his sprawling home, a long low ranch style with a huge screened lanai that wrapped all the way across the rear and one side of the house. Decorated with expensive outdoor furniture, the lanai had seating areas at each room that opened out from the interior. Every bedroom in the house had double doors leading out. The pool was long and wide, designed to Leon's specifications, as he used it for part of his swimming workout routine. Inside the house, there were expensive, comfortable furnishings, very masculine, as was to be expected.

Entering through the lanai, Leon took the men into a large family room.

"Hold on guys, have a seat, and I'll bring in some beer."

"Thanks Leon," Jake said, taking a seat.

Trying to recover from a long day, the group sat for a while and discussed old times and how Jake had come to know Ricky. The story of Aunt Maggie's death was told, as Leon listened intently. Ricky added into the conversation by explaining how they had come on all of that money. They talked about how they had stopped at Donnie's in Brownsville.

"Jake murdered a guy down there, in Brownsville," said Ricky.

"Don't you think that you need to add a little something to that Ricky? Like how I saved your life? I didn't murder him. I only prevented him from blowing your brains out. That's all. You didn't have the guts to do anything to defend yourself. I had to do it for you. On top of that, I didn't even get a thank you from you for it. I saved your life, buster."

Ricky startled at Jake's comment, looked straight at Jake for a few moments. He knew that he had been wrong about Jake, realizing that he had in fact, not thanked him for what he had done for him. Jake looked back at Ricky, waiting for him to say something in response.

"Jake, I apologize. You did save my life, and I will be always grateful to you for that. Thank you."

"You know, for the first time since I have met you, that was the most sincere statement that you have made. For the most part Ricky, you have just been a total jerk. But, I must say, I was really impressed with what you said just then. I accept your apology, brother."

"My God," said Leon, "you guys don't get too serious on me, lighten up, for crying out loud."

Things did lighten up and the rest of the evening. The conversation centered on discussing how to deposit the money. Leon had a very good customer, a lawyer, who frequented his brothel. With Ricky's accounting and business background, he was appointed to work with this attorney to set up a corporation under the laws of Belize. The purpose of the corporation would be that of a consulting firm, making investments. The attorney would become the registered agent for the corporation and file all of the appropriate documentation to set things up in Belize.

The plan was to use the attorney's contacts at a local bank to open the accounts. There were to be three accounts, one set up for each of the men separately, along with a third to contain a slush fund accessible by both for expenses and emergency use. Within a day or two, all of the formalities would be done, and the money would be tucked away nicely in the bank. Leon had already made the appointment for the next day.

With most of the discussions regarding the corporation concluded, and after a few more beers, Jake and Ricky turned in early. Tired from their long trip, Ricky and Jake were glad to be in Belize and not in the air. Leon had been very helpful to arrange a meeting with his attorney friend and the banker. Without his help, it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to arrange things. Not too many people bring a gym bag full of U.S. currency into Belize trying to make a deposit in a bank there. It was all about the contacts. Had it not been for Leon, and his whorehouse, this scheme could not have taken place. Even sex had factored into this situation. Actually, sex had played a big role.
Chapter 25

The next morning, Ricky found himself wandering around looking for Jake and Leon. Hearing grunting sounds, along with masculine conversation, coming from a room near the end of the hall, Ricky wandered into the workout room that Leon had equipped. There were various pieces of workout equipment, a treadmill, a set of weights, and other mechanical equipment. A sauna, with an adjoining shower, was constructed along a rear wall of the room, and there were exercise mats on the floor. Quite a place, for sure.

"What are you two meese doing in here?" Ricky inquired

"Meese, what's a meese?" asked Leon.

"More than one moose, that's what meese are."

"By the way Leon, it stinks like hell in here. Smells like dirty feet, mixed with body odor and sour bath towels."

"We know you rarely get to enjoy that smell Ricky, you probably never worked out in your life," said Jake.

"Hey, cut the shit you bastard, we have to get to Belize City."

"When you are talking to me Ricky, you refer to me as 'Mister' Bastard."

"That doesn't make you any less a bastard Jake," said Ricky, with a smirk on his face.

"Good grief, I have never heard anything like the crap that you guys throw at each other. What the hell is wrong with both of you?"

"Don't pay any attention to him Leon, he's full of shit all of the time." Jake said.

"It's not only Ricky, you are just as bad as he is, 'Mister' Bastard," said Leon.

"I have to defend myself, don't I?"

"Yea, I guess, but what you two guys do is rough, to say the least."

Paying no attention to the remarks coming from within the room, Ricky declared that he was going out to the kitchen to see if he could find something to cook for breakfast. Jake and Leon walked down to their rooms.

"You know Jake, Ricky's not so bad after you get to know him. I think he has a lot of good in him and he wants to do the right thing. You two act strange to each other though, you act like mortal enemies sometimes, the way you talk to each other."

"Mom says, she thinks we act like blood brothers. She really gets pissed off when we act up. It's funny though, one time she threatened to take both of us over her knee and give us both a spanking."

Leon chuckled at that, "She's right. Maybe that's why you call him brother. It's different from our type of brothers, our Navy brothers."

"Yea, he's OK. After a while, you realize he is not so bad to have around. Please don't tell him that, his head would get way too big for that flabby little body of his. I need to take a shower now, Leon."

Leon, now realizing how close Ricky and Jake had become, smiled. "Me too Jake, I need to get this stink off me, from what Ricky says, it must be pretty bad."

Breakfast consisted of ham biscuits and coffee. Ricky helped clean up the kitchen and soon the three men, with the gym bag, headed for Jake's plane. The T182T comfortably held a pilot and three adults. After a short trip to the Belize City airport, Jake taxied the aircraft to a hanger where several private planes were parked. Leon was a regular customer there. Jake could get the plane checked out while they were in town. He was very particular about that aircraft, he wanted everything to be in perfect order all the time.

On time for their appointment in Belize City, the visit with the attorney consisted of Ricky taking the lead to talk over the corporate structure in relationship to the laws of Belize. By-laws were drawn for the corporation. An organizational meeting for the corporation was also held, and minutes recorded. The corporate book was initiated.

Ricky inquired about obtaining visa's for he and Jake, as there had been some discussion between the two of them about an extended stay in Belize. Ricky wanted to retire completely from work, and Jake appeared to be on the fence about the matter. Both had enough money to last them for the rest of their lives. As far as Ricky was concerned, Belize was a beautiful tropical paradise. He really liked the place. He had the money, he had a new friend who owned a whorehouse, so what else could he ask for.

After two hours of discussions with the lawyer and his assistant, the three men, Ricky still clutching the gym bag, were ushered to the bank by the attorney. They entered large conference room by an officer of the bank, one of Leon's best customers. The attorney went over the newly formed corporation details with the banker. Until all the corporate paperwork had been completed and filed with the government, the funds would be put into a temporary account. The temporary account would eventually be the slush fund. The other accounts were set up but not activated. Funds could be transferred from one account to another, sometime later.

The entire banking experience went extremely smooth. Ricky could not believe that a bank took almost five million dollars off their hands, from cash stuffed into a gym bag. The banker gave him receipts for everything, and they were able to walk out of the bank with a temporary checkbook in hand. The balance, posted by the banker on the first page of the register, was, exactly, four million, seven hundred, seventy-five thousand, six hundred dollars. There was another ten thousand in cash, that Ricky and Jake had split. Both had five thousand dollars, in the smaller bills, in their pockets. That day was incredible, just incredible. Without that horny attorney and that horny banker, this could not have happened. It was very apparent that those professional boys wanted to keep their working relationship with Leon, and possibly some free service at the girly house.

With their business completed, the three had a relaxing lunch at a fantastic seafood restaurant in Belize City. On their trip back to the airport, Ricky and Jake both felt that they had really accomplished a tremendous feat. Both were upbeat, smiling and happy.

"Guys, how would you like to go to San Pedro? There is a property there I would like to show you. It is next door to my girly house. It's for sale, and it would make a great place for you two down here if you decide you want to stay."

"It sounds real convenient to me, next door to the girly house," said Ricky.

"I can see you are going to be one of my best customers Ricky, my business will pick up dramatically when you move in."

"Leon, I would expect a little discount, old buddy," Ricky said, trying to save a few dollars.

"There are no discounts Ricky, if you want a cut price, then my girls will have to limit their services, they know how to make that happen."

"Oh well, I tried."

Getting around Ambergris Caye was easy. There are golf carts all over the island. This is a beautiful place if you like the tropics. Lush palms everywhere, beautiful beaches, and the people are friendly. English is widely spoken, as it is the official language. Leon, would regularly fly from his home in northern Belize to this barrier island. The airstrip was in the southern most part, near the only town on the island, San Pedro. The town was a tourist area, along with the fact that Leon's girly house was located there.

Leon had rented the furnished vacant beach house next to his brothel as a surprise to his guests, Ricky and Jake. Unknowing to the two, there would be a party there tonight, lots of cold beer, seafood, and of course, the girls from next door. Leon had prearranged everything, showing them the house was just a scheme to lure them there.

As they landed on the airstrip at San Pedro, peering out the window of the plane, Ricky fell in love with the beauty of the Caye. Everything was so green and the beaches were so white. The water off the shore was an azure blue, such a blue he had never seen at any beach. He had enjoyed this trip, he would never tell Jake that though. He liked the feeling the excitement of flying over land, then over water, seeing the new sights he had never seen and now this paradise, it was just that, a paradise.

"Let me see if I can get a golf cart to take us over to the house," said Leon.

Traveling about on the Caye, is done by foot, motor bike, or golf cart. The hanger attendant had a few golf carts available for rent, as a sideline to his business. For years now, Leon always kept a running account there. He would bring his plane in several times a week to see the madam of his girly house, and always rent a cart to get around.

Driving along the hard packed sand streets of San Pedro, the golf cart with the three men sped along down the main road. The town was a very quaint place, with many different bright pastel colors painted on the buildings and houses. Palm trees just seemed to be growing everywhere, lush and green.

"Here's the house that is on the market now," Leon said, stopping the cart.

"Where is your girly house?" Ricky asked.

"Next door." Leon pointing to a large double story building.

"Man, that's a big place, looks like a hotel," remarked Ricky.

"Yea, it was a hostel at one time, sort of a dormitory hotel concept. The place fell on hard times and the building suffered. It was boarded up for a while and desperately needed repair. The prior owner had health problems, and passed away. I bought it from the estate, got a good price. I had to completely gut the interior and start over. We now have fourteen rooms for the girls, each one with a private bath and a large closet. The girls store their personal items in their own closets and lock them up while the johns are there. When the johns are done for the night, the girls then have their own small apartment."

Ricky still curious, "what do you do about the cops? Do the girl's ever get busted?"

"Oh no, prostitution is not illegal in Belize. As long as the girls don't disturb things, and stay off the streets, the cops could care less. I list this as a business, as an apartment building. My books reflect that. I collect rent. The books are just for looks. You should understand that Ricky, since you are a bean counter. Most of the money is cash and I just pocket it. I have one of those accounts at the same bank you do."

Leon, being quite the salesman, as well as a good businessman, had contacts all over Belize. For instance, the owner of the water taxi that brought and returned passengers from Belize City to the Caye, would stop to unload johns at the pier, just to the rear of the brothel. Owners of the local hotels all had the address of Leon's place, should a guest inquire. With the tourist trade, along with many local lawyers, bankers and government officials, there was little chance that there would be trouble at the house. Business was booming, really booming there.

"Teresa runs a tight ship over there, those girls don't cross her. If one of them starts drinking or doing dope, she gets rid of them. They all know the rules. The money is good, and they all like it," said Leon.

"Man, you have quite an operation going here Leon, nice job guy," said Jake.

"We're doing OK, just hope it keeps up. Let me show you guys this house. It's up for sale and really nice inside. Has a big pool out back too."

Ricky and Jake didn't pay any attention to the fact that Leon had a key to that house. They walked into the main living area to start their tour. The furnishings were expensive but comfortable, for a place at the beach. An older couple, from New Orleans, owned the house. They would fly in for a week or so at a time. With his wife now in a nursing home, the older gentleman that owned the place had lost interest. He put it on the market, listing it with a local real estate agent.

"From what they tell me, you guys could probably pick this place up for a song."

"Man, I really like this place," said Ricky.

"Sure is something to think about," said Jake. "I am not so sure I want to move down here. With mom at home, now that my dad has died, she needs someone up there."

"Anyway, Jake, as you said, it is something to think about. Let me show you guys out back."

With windows almost all the way across the back of the house, facing the water, you could see the lush vegetation surrounding the patio and pool area. In the center of the large patio area, was a huge, kidney shaped pool. A small thatched roof cabana was placed at a convenient place. There was another pool building, which contained a full outdoor kitchen and bar. There were tall fences on either side of the property allowing privacy from the neighbors, one of which, was Leon's girly house. Thick tropical plants were placed in front of the fences to conceal them. There was one gate however, that opened to Leon's property.

"Why is there a gate Leon?" asked Ricky.

"Oh, when this house was first built, there was no pool. From what I understand, the owner of the hostel next door gave them permission to use the hostel's pool. They put the gate in. Nobody uses it now."

"I thought that old man was sneaking over to see the girls at night or something" said Ricky.

"No, he's way over eighty now, even my girls couldn't do anything for him at his age."

After the tour of the beach house, the men all gathered in the huge family room. Leon went into the kitchen and brought out three beers, and they all relaxed and enjoyed the cold treat.

"By the way guys, I was thinking about another angle for this place, just in case you wanted to make an investment instead of moving down here. I could go in with you both to buy this place. Then we could turn it around very quickly into a VIP lounge for the very wealthiest of my customers. A few of my girls are very beautiful, and the wealthy guys always shell out more for them. I could move a select few over here. We could serve food and have a very nice bar out at the pool. Just a thought if you guys wanted to do it."

Just then, outside at the pool, the gate, between the two properties, opened. Three very attractive ladies wandered into the pool area, each with a margarita in their hands. Ricky and Jake could do nothing but stare at the ladies as they approached the glass sliding door to the big family room. Dressed in bikinis that barely covered anything, all three entered the room and proceeded to take off their tops. Ricky gasped at the heavenly sight before him.

"Let the party begin" exclaimed Leon.

Next the caterers came in with the food. A bar was set up at the pool and a small band began to play. As the evening was quickly approaching, the party went on for hours. Finally, Ricky passed out from too much alcohol as he was coming out of a bedroom with one of the ladies.

Leon, joking with the young lady that had been entertaining him, "Tina, what did you do to that boy?"

"Nothing, he did it to himself," she said. "He's too drunk to do anything else tonight. I have to say though, he is quite a man in bed. He is someone I will never forget."

About that time, the band wrapped up their music for the evening. The caterers had left, and the bar was closed. The ladies passed through the gate once more on their return trip to the girly house. Jake and Leon moved Ricky, who had collapsed in the hall, to his bedroom. They put him on the bed for what was left of the night. Ricky never stopped snoring the entire time they were moving him back into his bedroom.

The next morning, Ricky and Jake woke with horrible hangovers. Lucky for them, Leon went next door to retrieve a pitcher of tomato juice and a bottle of vodka. One shot each of vodka and a glass of the juice and the boys were beginning to be back in business. Leon had arranged for cleaning ladies to come in that day. Luckily most of the activities the night before had been at poolside and in the bedrooms.

"We had better get out of here boys, and back to my house." Said Leon.

"OK," replied Jake. "Ricky still doesn't look too good though."

"He'll be all right in a few hours, he can take a nap this afternoon."

After a quick ride back to the airstrip in San Pedro, the three boarded the plane for the short flight back to Leon's house. Ricky had done nothing but complain the entire morning about how badly he felt. Jake and Leon decided to send him directly to his room for a nap just to shut him up. In fact, within thirty minutes or so, all three were in their rooms snoring. Hopefully, by time for dinner, they would all be good as new.
Chapter 26

The next morning, Jake asked, "What did you tell my mom about visitors, Ricky?"

"Oh, about the fish?"

"Yea, about the fish, what did you tell her?"

"I said, company are like fish, after three days they begin to smell."

"That's it, Ricky. And if we don't get out of Leon's hair today sometime, we are going to start smelling like dead fish. He has been very accommodating to us, and I don't want us to overstay our visit."

"You are right, it's been three days. We have been here almost too long."

"I'm just saying, Ricky, we have to come to some decisions here. Do we rent the house next to Leon's girly house for a month or so, or do we go back home. Actually, mom's birthday is coming up in about a month, we could stay until a few days before that, then head on back."

Leon walked into the room with his satellite telephone in his hand. "Ricky, someone's on the phone to speak to you."

"Who is it, Leon?"

"It's Moran."

Leon handed Ricky the phone and Ricky wandered out onto the lanai to take the call. "Hello, Bob."

"Hi Ricky, how are you guys doing down there."

"Great place Bob, having a good time."

"Leon has a really nice place, glad you could stay there."

The conversation between Moran and Ricky lasted about ten minutes. After they finished their call, Ricky walked back into the family room.

"What did Moran want, Ricky?" asked Jake.

"He wants us to come up to D.C. to talk to him about another job. Something about a charter boat company down in South Carolina and some smugglers."

"What about the smugglers?"

"I don't know, I don't know anything about smugglers."

"Well, exactly what the hell did he say?"

"Something about a submarine. The smugglers are bringing in foreign operatives on some type of small submarine that is launched from a freighter. The employees of the charter boat have some connection. Moran tells me that the Feds are getting ready to arrest the owners of the company. He wants me to take over management, and go over the books, of course."

"What about me?" Jake growled.

"Oh yea, he mentioned you too, he wants you to capture the submarine, and do some stuff with some of your Navy buddies."

"What stuff, what does he want us to do."

"Drive the damn thing, I think, he wants you to take the stupid thing over, and drive it somewhere."

"You don't drive a submarine, stupid."

"I don't give a shit what you do with them. I told him I would talk to you about it, and we would get back to him."

"Leon, can I borrow your phone again. I need to call Moran back. This idiot can't even relay a message about anything."

"Sure, Jake, I connect you with him, hold on."

Jake initiated the call to Moran, then handed the phone to Jake. Jake, taking his turn on the lanai with the phone, spoke at length with his boss. When the conversation ended, he walked back into the house and handed Leon his phone.

"Come on Ricky, we are leaving for D.C."

"Leaving? I'm not leaving. I fell in love, night before last. Don't you realize that I have met the woman of my dreams in San Pedro?"

"You and a thousand other guys have fallen in love with her, that same woman."

"Ricky, she is paid to make you fall in love with her, that's her job," Leon added.

"Pack your shit, we're going" Jake said, demanding.

"Well, I don't like it."

"I don't care if you like it or not, pack your stuff. We're going now."

"Just like the mess you got us in on this caper, we are just going to jump into more crap down in South Carolina. You stay in trouble with all that stuff you do for Moran. Somehow, all of a sudden, I am now getting dragged into these so called assignments. We have the money now, why do we have to go back up there for this job?"

"I told him we would do just this one job" said Jake firmly.

"Oh I see, it's that damn submarine isn't it? What you want is to drive that damn submarine, don't you. You asshole. This is some kind of game with you, isn't it. You just want to play the stupid game."

"No, Ricky, I was thinking about you and about all those babes on Myrtle Beach. That was that I was thinking about."

"What babes?"

"Myrtle Beach has thousands of babes walking the beach all the time. We will be just a short distance south of there, in a town called Georgetown. You could be on the beach in minutes from there. Think of all those beach parties," said Jake, exhibiting his best sales skills.

"Hmm, Myrtle Beach, well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad," said Ricky with a grin, "Maybe not so bad at all."

"When it comes to women, you sure don't use your brains to do your thinking, do you? You use something further down, don't you, you fat little bastard."

"Kiss my entire ass, Jake. I'll be packed in a few minutes. Get the plane ready."

"Kissing your entire ass Ricky, that would take days, as big and fat as it is. I just don't have the time. Get ready, fat ass."

###

Stay tuned for Ricky and Jake, low country South Carolina style.
