Chapter 14 Summer Rolls Onward
Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo had waited patiently for a couple of weeks for some news of progress with their zoning application, Mary-Jo being the more patient of the two had just put it out of her mind, but for the last day or two Billy-Bob had began to get fidgety and frustrated at not hearing anything. So it was with great relief that Mary-Jo saw the posting of their application on the store notice board, it had been up over a week but they had not seen it. She beamed with joy as she raced back along the narrow winding track to Malase, dust billowing in her wake as the pickup bounced and slid its way along.
“Hey Mom youze looks about as happy as a tick on a fat dawg.”
Ethan said as they sped along.
“Sure is as happy as a tornado in a trailer park.”
Mary- Jo’s replied as Ethan rocked around on the hot torn bench seat next to his excited mom.
“Hey mom take yuh foot off the gas or we is gonna have a wreck an be did, youze nose the tars are all worn.”
“Dayum Auh is tarred of yuh tawking to me as if I can’t drive, Auh is good at drivin iden Auh?” Came a rather frustrated response. Before Ethan could answer they came around the final bend as they entered Malase sideways, scattering chickens, pigs and dogs in every direction to a chorus of barks, alarm bucks and clucks and ear piercing squeaks and squeals. In a cloud of fine swirling dust and dry moss they came to an abrupt stop right outside their home.
She didn’t hear the cusses her neighbours aimed at her as she leapt in a couple of excited bounds up her steps onto her porch and into her home shouting at the top of her voice.
“Billy-Bob, Billy-Bob they gone an posted ourne application at the stawa, its all go now.”
Billy-Bob leapt to his feet from his armchair,
“What the hell! Is yo outta yuh mind drivin like that an hollerin and screamin like a mad woman…, an what is all thisa bout ourne application.”
“Hell…, yuh is sure ignert, iis ourne zoning application, it has been posted at the stawa so weeze gonna be gettin ourne new alli-gator farm an inna couple a months we willbe movin outta here f’good to Lochap.”
Mary-Jo exclaimed.
“Auh do bleeve we oughtta celebrate……, I’m gonna get me a fresh bottle of shine….., some cold beers an have us a liddle pardy.”
Billy-Bob said with a huge smile spreading across his face.
Placing two six packs of cold beer on the table, Billy-Bob pulled the cork from a bottle of shine with his teeth, put his lips to the bottle, tipped his head back and took a large guzzle of the clear liquid.
The shine that he drank was kept for special occasions, this particular bottle came from Cuzn Luke and it was the finest, tastiest, strongest and hardest local shine to get hold of and so it was precious and only came out rarely.
There were two stills within a mile of Malase one was run by Jean Leblanc and his boys and the other by Papitte Vallier and Achile Bergeron. Their stills were purely money making endeavors however; the product they produced was good but commercial, purely for sale in one hundred and twenty gallon batches, they did keep a little back for themselves though. Even these three families of experienced moonshiners went to Cuzn Luke to get their shine for special occasions.
Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo hugged each other and launched into their two step ‘hobble’ dance, Ethan who had just walked through the door heard the good news and joined in, he picked up his banjo, raised his right foot and put in on the arm of the armchair, rested his banjo on his knee and stated to play.
Hearing the commotion, Joshua raced back from the creek behind his home where he was trying to catch some Crawfish. He ran up the steps, past his dancing parents and into his room, he grabbed his fiddle and joined in the impromptu family ho down. For the moment not knowing what had caused such merriment he just played, tapping their feet and rocking from side to side the two brothers played as if they were musical scholars. They accompanied each other then duelled against each other, creating new music as they went, faster and faster, each flurry of notes was more intricate than the last. Billy-Bob stamped his boots in time with the music as Mary-Jo continued her dance, clapping her hands in time. Faster and Faster the boys played, until the four of them reached a crescendo of foot stomping, hand clapping and bent legged “hobble” dancing then they all collapsed laughing into the nearest armchair, or onto the sofa.
“Wee-el that was about as easy as slidin off a greased log backwards.”
Billy Bob exclaimed.
“Even a blind hog finds an acorn now an then.”
Replied Mary-Jo as she lay sprawled across half of the sofa, panting after her exertions. Blissfully unaware of the reality of their situation the happy family continued their impromptu celebrations on through the afternoon. By the time Zachary arrived home from school, both his parents and Ethan were drunk, Mrs Vallier who was passing had offered Zachary a lift home. Because nobody was there in Lokchapi to pick him up from the school bus stop he had started to walk home along the dusty track.
Billy–Bob and Mary-Jo were sitting on their veranda with Jean who had been invited to share some of Cuzn Luke’s shine, Ethan had crashed out on his bed and Joshua was curled up on the sofa. It was not normal for them to be in such a state so early in the day, but it was a special occasion, or so they thought.
Billy-Bob was telling the story of how hisgreat grandfather was originally a farmer who had moved to Louisiana from the Dust Bowl in 1938. With him came his great grandma and his own grandpa Thomas, his old uncle Theodore and his two old aunts Annie and Betty. They had all of their possessions piled high on their old truck and had found their way to Malase. The shack that they all lived in now had been derelict and one of the Leblanc’s ancestors had welcomed the impoverished family with open arms into Malase. Grandpappy Thomas and old Uncle Theodore had worked hard to rebuild the shack with more help coming from the Lablanc, Vallier and Bergeron families. These families had helped their new neighbours settle and shown them the ways of the swamplands. They had taught great Grandpappy to hunt, fish and catch crocodiles.
What was unknown to the celebrating family was that the posting of the zoning application at the local store was just a ruse. Their application was not going to be approved; this had been decided before they had even left the office of Mr. Clarke some two weeks earlier. The posting of the zoning application was just part of the bureaucratic process, Town Hall just going through the motions, giving the outward appearance of normality, Mr. Clarke had seen to this with that one short phone call.
For the next two weeks life in Lokchapi and the surrounding country continued at its usual slow summer pace, the heat oppressed all, man and beast alike. It was abnormally hot and humid with little respite, it was only the occasional ferocious evening storm that cleared the air for a while, allowing a short breather from the stifling atmosphere to be enjoyed by all but only briefly. In no time at all the cool air was replaced by the ever present ferocious heat and humidity that stupefied the mind.
Nothing really of note occurred, people just got on with their lives. Unusually hot and humid as it was, it would continue to slowly build and build throughout the summer, reaching its peak in late August to early September, then savage storms would break in from the west and the temperature and humidity would start to slowly subside. However there would not be complete relief until late October to early November when cool fronts would move across the landscape, making life more comfortable.
Samuel had banished his demons for the moment and was going to work every day, hour by hour, ticking off his yardage of ditches dug. The monotony of his work did not even encroach on his thoughts when he was in this reasonably happy frame of mind. Each evening he arrived home, hot, sweaty, covered in dirt and dust and exhausted, to be met by his faithful Pooh and Moo. He would do his books for the day, count his takings, open a cold beer and sit down quietly in the shade of his veranda with his faithful friends lying in the shade on either side of him. He would quietly sip his cold beer until he heard SJ shutting up her salon door, the sign that she was finished for the day.
SJ’s work was busy as ever and she was kept abreast of all the local news and gossip by her regular customers. She kept up her four weekly visits to her gym where she would meet her friends and train for a couple of hours each visit. It was in Ville Platte which was quite a drive, but the facilities were fantastic, much better than in Spicebridge and she had a good circle of friends there. People who were from slightly out of her own area and weren’t caught up in the gossip of Spicebridge, Lokchapi and the surrounding country. It was somewhere SJ could be herself, not SJ the hairdresser, not SJ the person who listened to everyone’s problems, worries and troubles and always had a good bit of advice to give. She had become someone who her customers could unburden their daily life stresses on, someone to lean on. This leaning took its toll over the years as had become apparent to both SJ and Samuel, her clients loved her work and hair styles but many of them seemed to visit her for a shoulder to cry on or to provide a counseling service.
At the days end she was always mentally exhausted and this summer’s unusually early and intense heat was not helping, so each late afternoon she would join Samuel on the Veranda, with a cold glass of wine and sit silently trying to unwind for a short while.
Jason was looking forward to the summer break from College, only a few more weeks of study and he would have the remainder of the summer to himself. Time to put his study books away, have fun, relax and do his own thing. One evening he had arrived home excitedly and told Samuel and SJ that his driving instructor said he was ready to apply for his driving test, so that evening Jason booked his test online. The date was set, only a couple of more lessons and it would be Jason’s big day. Both Samuel and SJ were quietly confident with Jason’s driving abilities; just so long as he concentrated and didn’t get to nervous on his test they thought he would pass.
In the evenings Samuel and SJ would walk the dogs, prepare their meal, eat, and then watch TV. On the weekends they used to go out to visit friends or have friends over, maybe meet at a local bar somewhere or go out and eat, but going out together was becoming more intermittent recently as Samuel had been living within the darker side of his character and there was a considerable strain between him and SJ.
Whatever they did together though Pooh and Moo where included as much as possible, with Jason however things were different, he was growing into a young man, and Jason’s presence with his parents was getting less and less, he had a good group of friends and they would do their own teenage thing together. Jason did have one very special friend out of this group, it was Jenny-Ray, a girl who lived just around the corner, two minutes walk away, they had first met at school aged five and had had an on off friendship over the years that had grown stronger and stronger as they grew up and matured.
In Malase the men hunted, fished and did odd jobs here and there, always providing for their families. More shine was cooked up, bottled and sold while the women went about looking after their men folk, a couple of them had part time work in Spicebridge and would come home to prepare food and cook in the early evening.The younger children went to school, coming home in the afternoons to go off fishing, or go on some unknown adventure into the dark shroud of the swamplands or surrounding forest, one thing was for sure, they all longed for the end of school and the summer break. Most evenings were normal family affairs, baths, meals, TV then bed, apart from Friday and Saturday nights when the older adults would normally congregate upon someone’s veranda and lay out a sumptuous meal. They would all drink steadily thought out the evening and into the early hours, talking, laughing, and playing music.
Jean Leblanc or Achile would normally fetch up an accordion, Papite Vallier would play his banjo and a fiddle was always on hand for someone to play, Francine Bergeron would accompany them on the washboard. Madeline Vallier would strum her guitar and Therese Leblanc would clap and stamp her feet in perfect rhythm or take turns on either a fiddle or washboard. Billy Bob and Mary-Jo had never been that musically inclined, they could play some but not as well as their neighbours so would dance away the hours together, up and down the veranda, in and out of everyone until exhausted they would flop down and refresh themselves with yet another beer.
On these weekend evenings the younger adults of Malase would all smarten themselves up, those who had young children would leave them in the communal care of their parents and all go drinking and dancing in either Spicebgridge or Ville Platte. Lokchapi had a bar, The Red Oak, it was warm and friendly but not a weekend destination, only if money was tight could any of the younger adults of Malase be found in there on a Friday or Saturday night, normally on the weekend and they all wanted to go hog wild. They would return to Malase either en mass, or in dribs and drabs as the night wore on and join in with their elders until the first glimmers of dawn thrust into the shrouded darkness. The approaching full dawn brought about a magical sight. The music, laughter and chatter would subside; they would set down their instruments, beer cans and glasses, extinguish the still flickering hurricane lamps, bid each other goodnight and quietly wander off to their own homes. It was such a warm friendly community that apart from the occasional falling out or dispute no amount of alcohol, heat or humidity would cause any serious disruption to the harmony of these people.
Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo did their usual thing which consisted of Bill-Bob earning money from a multitude of sources and Mary-Jo doing very little. Some of Billy-Bobs money making schemes strained the boundaries of lawfulness, some of them completely broke any boundaries of lawfulness, some of them were government funded, as he had a detailed knowledge of all and every benefit he could claim and some of them were bulk standard casual laboring jobs locally. Whatever he did it would not involve him putting in much effort, starting early or getting home late, unless it was entirely illegal when it would mostly be conducted at irregular hours, very early mornings or late nights. He was for the easy life, even when he had been farming his beloved alligators, work was conducted at a leisurely pace, that was a time when he had earned very well and life had been good.
Every three or four days he would go out hunting with his boys. As they hunted they would check their traps to see if anything had been caught, whatever the weather, hot, cold, dry or wet they would always come home with something good to eat. It all depended on where they went, the time of day or night and the season of the year. From the swamp they would return with alligator, snapping turtle, catfish, crawfish or waterfowl. From the edge of the damp gloom of the swamp they would return with white tailed deer, red or blonde feral hog or Squirrel and from the slightly drier, woods and grasslands on higher ground to the east they would return with turkey, rabbit or woodcock. They always had to be on their guard for the Department for Wildlife and Fisheries though, as all of their hunting was done without permits and with little regard for official hunting seasons. Although that said not one of the inhabitants of Malase had ever been caught by the Department for Wildlife and Fisheries, they knew these swamps, forests, woods and wetlands too well, could sense danger like the animals of the swamp and would just disappear silently back into its enveloping gloom as and when needed.
Cuzn Luke rolled on through these weeks in his usual alcoholic haze. He always kept himself busy, busy at his still site cooking up his next batch off shine, busy sitting on his veranda drinking his much loved shine and the occasional whiskey, busy visiting friends, or busy sleeping.
Being a very popular local man he always seemed welcome when he pulled up at someone’s home in his shiny brand new 5.7 litre Dodge Ram pickup. He had a new pickup every year, last year it had been a 5.4 litre Ford F150, the year before it had been a Chevrolet. Nobody asked where the money came from it had just always been that way; since when he was a boy at fourteen and his pa had brought him his first brand new pick up. Cuzn Luke still had his pa’s old red 1953 Chevrolet pickup parked up behind his shack, it still ran perfectly, but nowadays would only be seen out on the highway with CuznLuke behind the wheel on the odd occasion.
Clive Meek continued to do his best to do as little as possible, something at which he exceeded. He put up with being the butt of everyone’s jokes for a while; these came in two lines of attack. They were either about his bad driving, his wrecked car, the tiny turquoise Japanese rental that he was currently driving around in while his own car was being fixed, or about his incompetent delivery of the question and answer part of his report for theAnderson Langford Corporation. He would often hear
“You what.”
Shouted after him in a quite uncanny impersonations of Curtis Langford, or have said straight to his face mockingly
“Oh I’m afraid I don’t have the reports with me sir, can I please kiss your ass.”
Followed by howls of laughter from anyone in earshot. He knew who was to blame for all of this humiliation that he had to endure; Jeb Clarke, Aaron Gant and Benjamin Carouse were the culprits who had spread the word of Clive’s failings with great pleasure and satisfaction. It was from either of these three that Clive would receive the most barbed piercing comments or jokes, to which he had initially joked along politely but now as the days turned into weeks of being continually messed with he would freeze on the spot, scowling at his tormentors, which just made everyone laugh all the more. Word had spread so widely and in such a short space of time that his trials were not just limited to the times when he was visiting or working in any of the local government offices, he would be on the receiving end of all sorts of jokes and jibes when he carried out site visits with various construction contractors.
Inside his blood boiled and he took out his anger on his office juniors and people requiring his advice. He achieved this in two ways, firstly by setting his office juniors unachievable targets, loading them up with more and more of his own workload and giving them bad advice when they requested his help in compiling their own Highways reports and decisions. Secondly and probably the method that most excised his anger was in his delivery of petty, small minded decisions, an obsessive compliance or lack of with the exact letter of every highways law , policy or guideline as the mood suited him and generally he acted in a completely disagreeable and cantankerous manner to his professional clients. This made matter worse for him as the crabbier and unsavory his behaviors became the more his colleagues laughed behind his back and made jokes at his expense. He vowed to himself that he would get sweet revenge on his three tormentors.
Aaron Gant took on more customers at his real estate consultancy and the volume of work increased so much that he took on a personal secretary come office manager to get on top of the paperwork that was now beginning to back up. He concentrated on the wording of proposals and finding any and every loophole to facilitate a successful outcome for his clients.
These clever words and his detailed knowledge of all zoning and development laws and policies were supported by many face to face meetings with all of the right people within the local government structure. He met almost daily on an individual basis with Jeb Clarke andMr Herbert Mouton, and at least a coupe of times a week, again on an individual basis with Clive Meek, Benjamin Carouse and Mr. Kendrick Toup. The wheels of bureaucracy were generously lubricated with sizable amounts of cash by Aaron Gant. None of these meeting would appear in any of their official diaries and the majority of them would be conducted at a few pre arranged meeting places, out of the public gaze where their sleazy transactions could be conducted in total privacy.
As usual Aaron Gant strode around in his baggy linen suit, nose high, chest out, with his usual air of self importance. However he had added a broad smile to his face, as lately money was rolling in from all and every direction as his backroom deals bore fruit. The ever rising temperature had little effect upon him however as it did on the majority of the population. He went about his business with his usual, efficient and effective subversion of the majority of local government and state zoning laws at an ever quickening pace as more and more clients were signed onto his books. He was also engaged in some work for the Anderson Corporation which took him south to Baton Rouge at least once a week. He never considered himself to be corrupt or a corruptor; he just knew how to get a successful outcome for his clients and he knew the best way to achieve it. As a man he was quite a contradiction as he was a fervent church goer and charity worker but the more cynical of his associates saw his faith and charity work as just another of his tools that he used to achieve his professional goals.
Herbert Mouton continued working as ever, in the background, being the zoning departmental director for the parish his job was solely desk bound with little actual contact with live zoning applications or appeals. He worked in the shadows, Jeb Clarke was the man with the responsibility for the day to day running of the operational side of the department, its decisions and policy implementation. Herbert was a figure head with contacts in all parts of the local parish and state society. He was unflappable and evasive, more of a puppet master pulling the strings from the dark recesses of Town Hall. He was an outwardly social and engaging man who delivered his local government role at official functions with grace and diplomacy, always having the right word to say or advice to give, but behind this façade he was a scheming, manipulative and egotistic sociopath who guarded his privacy with a manic zeal.
Jeb Clarke went to his office daily, worked steadily and surely through each days work and carried out the required site visits. He never slowed, he never quickened he just continued along at his own comfortable speed. He gave zoning advice, read zoning applications, made decisions, wrote reports, reviewed plans, commented upon applications, met with clients and advised junior colleagues and other local government departments. He also met with Aaron and Benjamin regularly and weekly deposited substantial sums of cash into a Cayman registered company bank account in Ville Platte. All of this was conducted with an air of conformity, nothing out of the ordinary, a grey man delivering a grey local government role in a central parish in Louisiana. His life away from the office was not ostentatious; he lived within the means of his salary and did nothing to draw attention to the riches that he was amassing, money which would fund a luxurious retirement.
His one light relief lately from the tedium of bureaucracy had been being present to witness Clive Meek’s embarrassment and his stuttering appeasement of Curtis Langford, followed immediately by watching him wreck his own car. Jeb had been in stitches on the way home from the Anderson Corporation meeting, laughing so much at Clive’s double misfortune that he was crying and holding his sides in pain. He had taken it upon himself on arrival back in Spicebridge to spread the gossip and he was the main instigator of all the Clive Meek jokes and Curtis Langford impersonations that were currently circulating. He took a certain personal satisfaction seeing Clive squirm and try and laugh off the jokes, this smug satisfaction being significantly heightened as Clive became more annoyed at each joke or sarcastic comment. It certainly livened up his day seeing his misfortune and even though they worked relatively closely on many zoning applications and projects he still could not resist the temptation to mess with Clive’s head.
Jeb Clarke was also engaged upon some official work for the Anderson Corporation and would drive down toBaton Rougewith Aaron and Benjamin for their weekly meetings, this was a bonus for the three of them as it allowed them more time together to finalise and agree the details of more deals. The more deals the more money and the more money the better life in retirement would be, this was something that they had all concluded some years earlier.
Benjamin Carouse like Aaron and Jeb worked along unfalteringly, he split his time between his official duties to give advice upon Parish land matters and private consultations which both included ownership, mineral rights, agricultural usage, forestry demarcation and state reserve and local parish conservation areas. He would also be required to carry out site visits, write reports, give professional advice and provide advice upon the validity and credibility of zoning applications. He had initially been an employee of the zoning department in Spicebridge some twenty years ago, but had moved jobs to work in his current position for the parish of Evangeline in Ville Platte. It was a better paid more important job with much more professional flexibility and ample opportunities to enrich himself. The days passed quickly as the summer heat built, he went into the office most mornings to do his paperwork and have meetings, leaving by early afternoon for some site visits, private consultations or meetings with Jeb or Aaron, and then an early drive home. Carly was usually home and would pour him a cold beer. He would then take himself off down to the creeks to fish, sometimes read or have a nap for an hour or so, then asthe intense heat of late afternoon started to wane he would wander home.Nothing seemed to stress or faze Benjamin, his local government job was steady and not taxing physically or mentally, his private consultative work earned him a quite substantial annual amount which was added to with his regular cash payments from Jeb Clarke, sometimes Herbert Mutton and Aaron Gant.
In Baton Rouge Bootsie’s team had been working hard on managing their plan, Dilip pulled the strings coordinating everyone’s efforts. Quentin and his associates at Saucier Security Services liaised closely with Lottie and supported her small team. Claude Lafourche was Lottie’s main contact at Saucier Security Services and provided all of the much needed data surveillance and computer hacking expertise that she required to deliver her part of the plan successfully.
Claude was only twenty three, ofCajun descent, he wasa high school drop out and self confessed cyber freak, born and raised in the middle of theAtchafalayaSwampor Basin as it is locally known, which is fifty eight thousand acres of wetlands in the parish of St. Mary. He was steeped in the ways of the swamp and the constant battle with nature; he was a survivor, adaptable and intelligent in equal measure. He had a rudimentary education, he could read and write reasonably well but his key strength was his inquisitiveness and his intelligence. Upon arrival inBaton Rougehe had used a third of his savings to buy some suitable city clothes and a cheap but smart suit, tie and shoes. On the same day he had secured himself a cheap single room occupancy in North Baton Rouge which was a run down part of the city with semi derelict buildings, potholed roads, mountains of trash and a high crime rate. On his third day his eyes fell upon a job advertisement that immediately triggered his inquisitive nature. It simply said, ‘young, ambitious, eager to learn with the drive to succeed and a born survivor, please call to arrange an interview’. He took his paper with him ah he walked to the phone booth on the corner of the block and called the advertised number. Within a minute he had secured himself an interview for that afternoon. At five to three Claude had stood outside City Plaza, located at the corner of North Boulevard and 4th Street,City Plaza is at the center of growth in downtown Baton Rouge. He looked up at the shiny windows of the beautiful eight story granite structure that towered over him. He straightened his tie, polished the toes of each of his new shoes against the backs of his suit trousers and walked in through the glass doors out of the furnace like heat of the street into the cool interior of the lobby.
The change in temperature took him a little by surprise as he stood and shivered momentarily. He looked around, on both sides where comfortable chairs and tables in the center was a wide desk with the word reception clearly spelled out above the head of the young man who sat behind the desk. He walked with as much confidence as he could muster up to the desk and asked where to find Saucier Security Services Inc; he explained that he had an interview at three fifteen with a certain Quentin Saucier.
Ten minutes later Claude was sitting in a large office opposite a smart suited man, who wore a big smile and had the whitest teeth he had ever seen. This was his first meeting with Quentin Saucier, he liked him instantly and his instincts told him that he could be trusted, for his part Quentin liked Claude, he was impressed by his promptness, his smart appearance and endeavour. Sitting opposite him was a boy in a mans suit, this boy in mans clothing spoke eloquently about his life living and growing up in the middle of the Atchafalaya Swamp and the drive and determination to succeed which he displayed took Quentin a little by surprise at first. As they sat and chatted it became clear to Quentin that this boy would succeed at whatever he chose to do with his life. Claude’s interview was the last of five interviews that Quentin was holding for a place in his organization Saucier Security Services Incorporated as an office junior or more commonly known as a ‘general dogs body’. The half hour allotted turned into an hour then an hour and a half as Quentin explained what his initial work within Saucier Security Services Inc. would be if he chose to take the job. For his part Claude said that he was prepared to do almost anything and made the point very strongly that he was willing to start at the very bottom as long as there was a clearly defined path to the top. Quentin liked his attitude and without consulting his HR manager offered Claude the position on a starting salary of fifteen thousand and eighty dollars annually which was the states minimum wage.
Little did Quentin know on that day some seven years earlier that Claude would perform all his initial menial duties with energy and care before taking his first tentative steps into the world of data communications security and surveillance with ease and certain flair. He learned quickly and within five years had become the acknowledged expert within Saucier Security Services Inc. regarding anything to do with data communications and computing security and surveillance. He had a natural talent and inquisitive intelligence that propelled him into the genius category. He had also two short term secondments with the NSA under his belt, and Quentin was sure that this was just the start for Claude. With his intelligence, knowledge, dive and ambition he would at some point in the not to distant future would leave SSS Inc. to forge his own path and make a fortune doing it.
Lottie worked hard as ever, as usual in the shadows and her small team put in the man hours to get results, often working thirty six hours straight before an eight hour break. However this commitment soon bore fruit and they discovered some completely unexpected information and new avenues of investigation to pursue all of which was fed back to the team on a need to know basis.
Donald Chadwick had been doing his utmost to free himself up as soon as possible from his present commitments to be available to the team. He knew how risky it was having Curtis and Earl Langford and Glenn Anderson front the first public phase of their plan but the team had no other choice. All he could do was to continue to successfully deliver his role on his current engagement negotiate an early exit and discharge his responsibilities the he would be free to take over from Curtis, Earl and Glenn. He didn’t think his early release would be a problem because he was weeks in advance of the delivery plan and there was little more that he was required to do. Any way the organization that he was contracted to were flexible as far as Donald was concerned, together they had a long history going back over thirty years and Donald had and did always produced the goods for them.
Curtis and Earl Langford and Glenn Anderson had been putting the major pieces of their part of the plan into place and had moved onto the next phase of the plan, the initial public phase. They had invited a large group of people to attend a meeting where they initiated the next phase and set the ball rolling. Only the three of them knew the real purpose meeting, it was all smoke and mirrors, to the rest of the meeting attendees it seemed to be a normal business meeting. They were were just setting the stage until Donald became available and then they could quietly slip into the shadows as Donald took over and drove the plan forwards.
I hope you enjoy your reading. It is available on Kindle and a free copy can be borrowed for download at https://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Blue-Heron-Howard-Moore-ebook/dp/B00KK6BWLK..
Howard Moore
