Chapter 23 Deja Vous
The sudden barking of Pooh and Moo announced Samuel’s arrival home, as usual he was escorted by his pack of happy tail wagging dogs, around from the side gate and across the lawn.
“Hello Jean.”
He called across into the shade of the veranda as he approached
“Bonjour mon amis.”
Jean replied standing up from his seat.
“Come and see all of the birds, meat and fish Jean has brought us.”
SJ called out from the kitchen.
Samuel climbed wearily up the steps onto the veranda, shook Jean’s hand and leaned back against the railings to undo his snake gaitors and unlaced his boots.
“Good Day?”
Jeans asked as he sat back down.
“No to be honest Jean this heat is getting too much….., and the humidity…, I’m absolutely exhausted.”
Came Samuel’s weary reply as he kicked his boots to one side out of the way of the door and entered the cool of the kitchen.
“Hi SJ.”
He said as he scanned all of the boxes, bags and a whole hog that obscured all of the surfaces and kitchen table,
“All for us?”
Samuel asked of Jean who had followed him in from the veranda.
“Naturellement…. Naturellement.”
He replied before continuing,
“Un moment.”
And disappearing out of the kitchen along the hallway and out of the front door.
“Have we got room for all this in the freezers?”
Samuel asked as he poked his nose into the first box to see what was inside. They had a large twenty four point nine cubic foot Frigidaire chest freezer in their garage and a large refrigerator freezer in the kitchen, so space shouldn’t be a problem but this was a huge amount of meat to store.
“Don’t worry Jean said that he can freeze what we cannot .”
SJ assured Samuel as he poked around in the next box.
“ Voila!”
Announced Jean as he re entered the kitchen proudly holding an old gallon glass carboy corked at its neck with a clear fluid lapping inside it that filled it up to within an inch of the cork.
“What’s this?”
Samuel asked as Jean handed him the heavy container.
“Mon brew special…… the latest batch only bottled a week ago an a special gif from all of us to a un vrai chasseur ….. A true hunder.”
As Samuel carefully placed the heavy glass container on the only spare space he could find in the kitchen, Jason casually strolled into the kitchen with a grinning Jenny-Ray close behind.
“Hi dad Im’a just goin into Spicebridge with Jenny-Ray, be back later.”
He said as he picked up his car keys from the kitchen table and headed for the back door.
“Who’s going to sit with you?” he called after the departing pair.
“I’ve just finished work and me and mum have got all this meat and fish to load into the freezer, he continued as the pair jogged down the steps and across the garden.
Samuel grabbed the back door and flung it open.
” Jason.. Jason!!.”
He called.
“It ok Samuel he had his test today and he passed…. So there’s no need, he can drive on his own now.”
Samuel stopped in his tracks halfway across the veranda.
“He did what?.”
He asked in a confused tone.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me……… I thought Jason would have been waiting for me to get home to tell me…. Obviously not.”
Came a rather dejected and flat monotone voice that SJ didn’t like the sound of.
“Oh Samuel he’s a teenager,… he didn’t want to tell you that it was his test today because he didn’t want you to stress which would and that would have stressed him out even more than he was and I suppose him charging off out with Jenny is his way of telling you and showing his independence….. don’t forget he is growing up he’s a young man now.”
“ Yes you’re right…………..,well this calls for a celebration then……., Jean do you fancy a beer?” He asked as he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it to get them both a cold beer
“Bien sûr mon ami….bien sûr.”
Samuel slammed the refrigerator door shut.
“For fuck sake.”
He growled out aloud more to himself than anyone else before continuing in a calmer tone.
“Sorry no beers…… I’ll pop down to the store and get a six pack and a bottle of something for us all to celebrate Jason’s big day…. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds great .”
SJ said in an encouraging fashion, pleased that the refrigerator outburst hadn’t grown out of all proportion and spoilt the day, it had been such and enjoyable day and Samuel had been happy and smiling ever since the hunting trip, she hoped it would continue.
“We’ll pack all this away in the freezer in the garage while you go to the store…I think a bottle of that Prosecco we had a couple of weeks ago was a nice sparkling wine and Jason liked it.”
“It not exactly Champagne is it…… but I suppose you’re right it was nice and I know the store stocks it…..what was it called again ?”
“Dolce Vita”
SJ replied, she liked wine and had a good memory for wines that she enjoyed.
“I’ll get a couple of bottles”
Samuel said as he left SJ and Jean in the kitchen to load the freezer in the garage. Both Pooh and Moo looked up from their beds as Samuel passed them on the veranda at a swift walk. It was to hot and humid to get up an follow, Pooh stood up stretched and took a drink from his water bowl Moo wagged his tail as his gaze watched Samuel disappear across the lawn and out of sight. With a sign he lay his head back down and quickly drifted back off to sleep.
Samuel breezed out of the store with two bottles chinking and a six pack of beer in the brown paper bag that he clasped to his chest with his left arm. He stopped momentarily at the notice board to look at the local ‘for sale’ notices, not really wanting anything, just out of interest. The normal, a washing machine, two kids bikes, a lawn mower, a set of golf clubs and a stuffed Raccoon. His eyes washed across the rest of the notices, not picking up on anything when his eyes were snagged like a cotton shirt on a rose thorn by two words, ‘Alligator Farm’. His pupils dilated and both lenses focused in on the wording, he scan read it at fist, then with teeth grinding re-read the notice in full.
“Shit, shit Fucking shit!!!.”
He kicked the wooden pole that held up one side of the notice board and the glass rattled in its runners.
“Fucking Arseholes!!.”
He continued out aloud as he strode off towards his pickup.
A passing couple gave him a disapproving glance as his foul language flowed freely as if he had been struck down with Tourettes syndrome yet again, Samuel returned a hateful scowl and glared at the couple who quickly turned away and continued into the store.
Two spinning back wheels propelled Samuels’ pickup backwards out of its parking bay and into the street, slamming it into drive he careered off down Main Street then turned onto the bumpy track for the very short drive home.
Before the dogs even had time to run around to the side gate to welcome him back, Samuel had stormed down their front garden path, flung the front door open and then slammed it behind him, in the process making SJ and Jean both jump.
As he marched into the kitchen he fired off a salvo of abuse, cussing and shouting.
SJ couldn’t make out what was wrong at first in between the “Fuckin Arseholes”s, and “Motherfuckers” that exploded across the kitchen.
SJ’s heart sank and she bit her bottom lip nervously as the tornado of abuse swirled its way around her kitchen. Jean very diplomatically caught SJ’s eye and jestured towards the front door. “I’ll be off mon ami.”
He mouthed to her as he made his way silently behind a snarling Samuel and out of the kitchen. It was almost a cartoon sort of tiptoe that he employed to extarcate himself from the awkwardness of the kitchen, he reached the front door and sliently slipped out closing it with the faintest click behind him.
After emptying his brown paper bag of its contents and noisily loading the drinks cooler in the refrigerator with five cans of beer, each one slammed into the plastic cooling compartment with a clatter Samuel again slammed the refrigerator shut. He then opened the freezer door and slammed the sixth can of beer into its top drawer slammed the freezer door shut and stormed off out of the kitchen across the hallway to his study, abuse trailing in his wake. SJ’s shoulders sank as she leant back against the kitchen sink and stared down at her feet, her eyes reddened and she stated to silently sob. All went quiet from the direction of Samuels’s study as he sat motionless at his ancient computer waiting for it to load up, he strummed his fingers on his desk impatiently as the hard drive whirred into life and the familiar Windows logo appeared and told him it was loading.
“I know you’re fuckin loading you piece of shit”
He spat back at the screen and waited as slowly bit by bit the computer came to life. Five minutes passed before he could do anything, it was indexing registers and going off and doing all sorts of unknown things before it was ready to allow Samuel to proceed.
Finally Samuel logged into his internet account and within no time was reading the full details of the zoning application for the Alligator Farm just across the mouth of the Bayou from their back garden.
With a notepad and pen prepared he started reading and making notes, his analytical brain sparking into life and was firing on all cylinders.
He noted the applicants names same as before Billy-Bob Johnson, the name of their agent, a Mr. Gant, the name of the zoning officer who was administering the application, again Mr. Jeb Clarke, a local government advisor titled Official Land Agent who provided advice on commercial zoning applications, a Mr.Benjamin Carouse and another local government official, a Mr. Clive Meek, the Local parish highways officer. These were all the people that Samuel considered that he would need to contact at some point to put his case of objecting to the zoning application again. He continued to scribble on his notebook making notes on the type and scale of business proposed, the projected vehicular movements into and out of the site that were likely to occur daily, the type and size of buildings to be constructed, history of prior applications, the advice and appraisals given by all of the local government officials who were required to have input into the process and also the advice and recommendations of interested local bodies. He couldn’t believe it, ‘I’m sure I this is Deja Vous, I’m sure I have just done all of this only a couple of weeks ago’,he thought as he continued to scribble notes.
His final note was of the recommendation made by the zoning officer Mr. Jeb Clarke and that he in capital letters underlined twice, it simply said ‘approve’.
Samuels’s mind then moved onto analysing what was needed to be done next. He had his last letter of objection and research to use as a very good starting point but this time the application was supported by an professional agent, a parish land agent a report from the zoning officer and one from the highways officer.
‘I’ll really have to have my wits about me to succeed this time’, he thought before focussing his mind back onto the task at hand. He noted down a coupe of thoughts on what areas he needed to review again in detail, zoning policies of the parish, state and national, conservation area, state park, roads, safety, traffic and finally recommendations and advice. With the initial surge of mental efforts slightly waning and the identification of the key parts of the zoning application to be investigated noted Samuel got up from his desk. The anger had drained from his body; his energies had been channelled form hurling abuse around the house to the analysis the problem at hand, dissecting it with an almost lawyerly like precision with a precise attention to detail and an eye for the salient facts of the application. With the storm front in his mind now nothing more than a couple of light bright scudding clouds, he stretched and walked back into the kitchen. SJ was busy preparing dinner.
“What was that all about?”
She asked Samuel without turning around from the work surface where she was busy cutting up a couple of fish.
“That was all about the Alligator Farm again, they have put in another zoning application.”
He replied in a calm measured voice, he could feel a red mist descending again just by uttering the words Alligator Farm, and he did his best to fight it off. The atmosphere in the kitchen was quite strained over dinner and after they had eaten Samuel took himself up to bed, his mind was in turmoil.
The weather that night mirrored the gales blowing through the depths of Samuel’s mind, outside the clouds thickened as the winds strengthened. Multiple bluewhite flashes were immediately accompanied by a crashing; splintering explosion on mind numbing noise that announced a storm had arrived directly overhead. Jason awoke with a jump and looked out of his bedroom window across the mouth of the bayou. He watched as the shrouded Cypress forest was silhouetted against a bright white, blue purple background of flashes and jagged streaks of vivid white colour that streaked between and through the dark heavy laden clouds. The trees swayed with their moss hung branches flailing around like banchees, the wind whistled and screamed its way between the lofty boughs of the monstrous trees and was soon accompanied by the deafening sound of the rain as it emptied the sky of millions upon millions of gallons of cooling water.
For the next week or so Samuel maintained a reasonable mood outwardly but he was permanently distracted. His happiness of the preceding days had evaporated, to be taken over with an energised drive to compile a detailed and full report objecting to the zoning application. That was all he thought about while he worked down in his ditches, analysis, identifying errors omissions, making connections, all the time refining his arguments to object to the zoning application in his mind, going over it again and again and again.
He got up for work on time, worked hard, was affable and talkative but as SJ gauged he was balanced on a knife edge. Each day once they had all eaten their evening meal together Samuel planted himself in front of his computer and worked. On a couple of evenings he walked around to his neighbours and asked them if they were aware of the zoning application and if they had an opinion on it. He stressed to all that he was objecting and would welcome any support, but didn’t want to influence anyone’s opinions either way, if they would support him in objecting then great but if they were indifferent or supported the application then that was their choice. It was as plain as that. Was of the view that everyone is entitled to their own opinions and that was that, he would not loose any sleep over it and it would not affect his personal relationships with his neighbours. This was a purely legal and procedural process that he was entering into and personal relationships did not even come into the equation. He felt no personal animosity towards Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo Johnson because he believed it was their right to apply for what they wanted as it was his right to object. Samuel carried out a significant amount or research on the internet and by the time ten evenings of work and one full weekend sat glued to his computer screen had passed he had completed his work, or at least as he told SJ, its first draft of a forty page report.
He had identified within the zoning application that the submitted application had not been detailed with true, accurate, reasonable, realistic and timely information to accurately describe the nature and anticipated impacts of the proposed application. He discovered that the application had not been processed and administered with the required duty of care and scrutinised thoroughly as was required by national, state and local parish policy.
He challenged the credibility of projected two way vehicular movements in and out of the site that would have to drive along the inadequate track that ran past his home. He challenged misleading statements that; ‘there is a current operational unit just north of Malase farming Alligators which has a current functional need’, and ‘that the business identified to support this application is in current operation’.
He asked if there had been a detailed assessment of usage upon the track to the proposed site by all highways users which is required by national and local policy to identify the levels of traffic and pedestrian conflicts and the application of road use priorities to safeguard vulnerable road users. He used the over ten year old highway safety survey that had identified the narrow bumpy track that ran past his home and past the church nearly into the center of Lokchapi as dangerous, inadequate, with not street lighting or sidewalks and stated that it was not considered suitable to allow for any type of future development along its length.
He questioned the impact of the increase in projected daily vehicular movements on the conservation area of Lokchapi.
He questioned the impact of the proposed development site on the character of the conservation and its appearance by being only a couple of hundred yards across the mouth of the Lokchapi bayou and finally he questioned the impact of developing the site within the boundary of the Lake Cavelier State park.
He identified quite a number of falsehoods and completely misleading information that came from not only the applicant and his agent but was also supported by the zoning officer, the local parish land agent and the parish highways officer. He then went on to list all of the local, state and national zoning and development policies, guidelines and statutes that this zoning application did not comply with. These were not opinions that he arrived at, these were instances where the application stated something which ran completely contrary to what was a policy, guideline or statute requirement. He listed them out in order of importance and finished his report with a simple statement.
‘Do I support the applicant in their right to apply for a zoning permit to develop – Yes.
Has the information provided within this current application and to support it and as consultative recommendations delivered, been misleading, false, unreasonable, unrealistic and untimely – Yes.
Are there Material Considerations that would indicate an immediate refusal – Yes.
Is the credibility of the current application seriously undermined, by poor, inaccurate, false, misleading and untimely information- Yes.
Do I believe that this application should be refused based upon the content of the application and local, state and national policies and statutes, Yes,
A couple of alterations were required and once completed and with a satisfied smile he e-mailed it off to the e-mail address of Mr. Jeb Clarke, the parish zoning officer, for good measure he copied in Mr. Clarke’s boss, a Mr. Mouton and also he copied in the vice president of the local parish government in Ville Platte.
Chapter 24 The Progress Report
Quentin Saucier picked up the file that lay on his desk and opened it, he had read it a couple of times before and was now just refreshing his memory. Once finished he unlocked his top right desk drawer and placed the closed file inside, after locking the drawer he opened up his laptop and started to type. Scanning down his e-mail inbox his eyes alighted on an e-mail that he had been expecting, it simply said as its title, ‘Its all coming together’. Eagerly he opened it and scan read it at a fast pace, it was signed at the bottom L. He made a mental note of each piece of information it delivered as he continued through its two thousand words. Just before reaching its end he stopped and re-read a paragraph, he stood up and punched the air.
”Yes, yes at last.”
He shouted to himself in his empty office. He sat back down and pressed a button on his desk phone, it buzzed twice before being answered.
“Good morning Mr. Saucier how can I help?”
“Morning Suzie, can you cancel all my appointments for the day, give my apologies and re arrange them for next week please, I will be out of the office for the rest of the day and on my cell phone if you need me.”
He paused for a moment before continuing,
“Suzie its been a busy few weeks lately and you’ve been here until all hours, why not take an early day… finish at twelve if you want and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh, thanks Mr. Saucier, I’ll do just that, see you in the morning.”
With that they both hung up, Suzie’s face lit up with a beaming smile, ‘An afternoon of retail therapy’, she thought to herself as she started ringing around to cancel all of Mr.Saucier’s appointments for that day.
Quentin picked up his cell phone and pressed the number one twice, it immediately connected with a pre programmed number. The phone at the other end rang once before being answered.
“Hi its Quentin here, we need to talk can I meet with you later?”
“When can you make it?”
Came the reply.
“In forty minutes.”
Quentin replied before ending the call and calling his wife.
“Hi hun, its another late night I’m afraid ………, sorry about that…., I should be home before midnight.”
“Oh Quentin again!”
An exasperated voice replied before saying in a more gentle tone,
” Well take care and I’ll see you then, love you… bye”
“Love you too hun…bye.”
Quentin replied then pressed end and placed his cell phone in his pocket.
He thought through everything he needed to take, The file from his desk drawer was the first item placed in his alligator skin briefcase, he then printed out the ‘ Its all coming together’, e-mail and sent the e-mail file to an electronic shredder, the printed e-mail was the second item to go into his case. He then unlocked a filing cabinet that stood behind his desk and pulled out first one drawer and selected a couple of files, then the second drawer were again a couple of files were selected and from the bottom drawer he removed a shiny black leather bound lever arch file. All of these items were placed in his case and the now bulging case was closed and locked. He then closed and locked his filing cabinet and sat back at his desk.
He selected a particular folder on his laptop and typed in its password, then once that had opened he entered a second password and the contents of the folder revealed themselves to him. He quickly selected eight out of the nine files contained within and using a sophisticated encryption software copied the contents to his eighteen gig flash memory pen drive, Once copied he secured it to his car key ring and closed the password protected folder then shut down his laptop.
Picking up his case he casually slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and walked out of his office locking the door before walking along the polished floor of the corridor. He passed two offices on both his right and left before stopping at the third door on the left, knocking gently he opened the door and poked his head around. Suzie looked up from her computer keyboard and beamed a smile at him.
“Just off Suzie, have a good day and enjoy your afternoon off.”
“I sure will, I’ll cancel all of your appointments and re book them for next week, then I’ve got some e-mails to write and send, then write up the minutes from your meeting last night and I’ll be off….., lunch then shopping with the girls.”
She said with an excited giggle.
“Sounds great…., have fun…, bye then.”
He said as he closed the door and then walked over toward the lift.
Suzie had been one of his best hires; she had first come to the company as a high school student doing work experience, then returned twice during her college education. When college had ended she had pestered him for a job for two months, by e-mail by phone and intriguingly by posting in the office windows opposite to his building in huge letters than ran along an entire floor spelling out ‘I want a job Suzie’. She had said that she didn’t really want to go on to university, she liked the work she had done on her three work experience engagements, enjoyed the work she had been set, liked what the company did and was of the opinion that she would do well. Before he offered her a junior position he spoke to all of the people she had worked under or with during her work experience engagements and they had all said the same thing. She was a highly intelligent, hard working, eager and funny person who mixed easily, learned quickly and would be a credit to any company she chose to join. Based on those recommendations from seasoned professionals and trusted colleagues of his he called her home number one evening and invited her to join them as an office junior. He had nearly had his eardrum ruptured by her screams of delight and from the day she had started she had worked hard and progressed quickly, that was five years ago now and she was able to handle anything that came her way and in their business anything could mean anything. She had also been on her second assignment in the field, this time a more challenging task which she had successfully delivered with a level of confidence and professionalism that was beyond her years.
Quentin pulled out of the underground car park of his offices into the bright late morning sunshine. It was very hot and humid; he had his air conditioning on full and relaxed in the refreshingly cool micro climate in car. It had been about ten days since the massive storm that had swept down from the North West across Shreveport, Alexandria in central Louisiana,Baton Rouge then New Orleans delivering refreshing rains and cooler air across the majority of the state before finally petering out. Now the heat and humidity had returned with vengeance.
He checked his watch he had twenty five minutes to get across town and the traffic was light so he pulled into the nearest MacDonald’s for quick stomach filler. He ate a good balanced diet so the occasional fast food meal was a tasty salt and fat laden indulgence that he enjoyed from time to time. ‘Anyway’, he thought to himself as he pulled up to the microphone to order, ‘It always tasted good and he had liked fast food since he was a kid’.
The microphone crackled and a distant monotone voice asked for his order. He ordered an Angus Delux, Big Mac, fries and Coca Cola then drove along in line to await service at the next window. He laughed to himself as he sat waiting, he didn’t know why but whenever he had a McDonalds he always ended up reciting the famous Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega dialogue from Pulp Fiction to himself, he knew large sections of it word for word and the particular scene where they discussed the difference between American and French Macdonald’s burgers just amused him. He started talking to himself, smiling as he ran through the dialogue.
Quentin was interrupted mid flow as the car in front of him pulled forward, he engaged drive and moved up alongside the open window.
A glum looking face glanced across at the bright screen on the counter and recited his order, with out any emotion on his young face or in his voice he gathered up the bagged order from the counter, placed a paper napkin inside and asked if any sauces were required. Quentin asked for tomato sauce which was duly placed in his bag before it was robotically handed out through the window. Quentin looked at the young face, his eyes stared through a long straggling fringe straight through him, ‘the monotony of the job must be mind numbing’, Quentin thought as he thanked the distant teen. He pulled forward and parked in a bay in the side parking lot. He opened his bag retrieved both burgers and the fries, then set the Cola on the dashboard and continued with his recital in between mouthfuls of Ronald’s finest. He did wonder however what a Royal with cheese was really like, was it like a standard quarter pound cheese or was it full of some exotic French cheeses and garlic, he pondered that thought for a moment befire letting it slip from his mind.
.
He finished eating, sucked the last out of the Cola cup and packed it all back into the paper bag. Driving out the car lot he stopped and deposited the greasy packaging in a flip toped trash can and drove off towards his scheduled meeting. He smiled to himself as he repeated a few of the final lines to himself
“What do they call it?”
“ They call it a Royal with Cheese.”
“Royale with Cheese.”
“That’s right.”
“ What do they call a Big Mac?”
“ A Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it “Le Big Mac.”
“What do they call a Whopper?”
“ I don’t know, I didn’t go in a Burger King.”
‘Brilliant, absolutely brilliant, just like the films’ director Quentin Tarantino a truly brilliant, gifted man, someone special’, he thought himself. As he drove he considered the film in more detail, to Quentin the dialogue seemed to come at the audience from all angles, never anything expected, the story lines and plots weaved in, through and between each other with such elegance.
Within no time at all he was across town, he cleared his mind, discarded Vincent Vega and switched to the serious business ahead. Turning off from an elegant avenue he was stopped at a barrier, a security guard who came out of his guard room and asked who he had come to see to see then asked for his pass.
“Just One moment sir.”
The guard said to Quentin before disappearing into his guard room with the pass in his hand. He made a quick call from his desk phone and got approval to let Quentin into the grounds of the impressive building.
“Thank you very much sir.”
The guard said to Quentin as he handed him back his pass and then opened the barrier to let him proceed. Quentin thanked the guard and drove through the open barrier, along a tree lined driveway for about six hundred yards then took a left and drove around to the rear of the building before taking a final left and driving down a ramp into an underground car park. He parked, locked his car and using a magnetic swipe card gained entry to the building through a small blue door. He walked across a plain whitewashed concrete passageway and pressed the lift call button. With a ‘ding’, the lift announced its arrival and opened its doors. Quentin stepped from the stark white corridor that was lit with flickering florescent tube lighting into a plush wood paneled lift with thick red carpeting. As the doors closed behind him he turned and pressed the button marked R for reception.
The lift moved up past lower ground, then ground then stopped smoothly at the first floor, the ‘ding’, of the doors opening alarm announced his arrival at reception. Confidently he walked from the lift straight towards the reception desk watched by a second security guard who stood just to the left of the desk. The young man behind the desk looked up as Quentin approached.
“Mr. Saucier we have been expecting you.”
He said as he stood and walked around from behind the desk.
“Please…this ways…, follow me.”
He continued, gesturing for Quentin to follow him along a brightly lit and highly buffed marble corridor that was hung with an assortment of paintings, portraits mainly, a historical record of Baton Rouge recorded in oils.
The Young man stopped at a set of large polished wooden double doors, he knocked twice before opening the door and ushering Quentin into a large sunlit office.
“Ah.. Quentin, come in…, come in, please take a seat, it’s so good to see you.”
Came a voice from within the room, Quentin smiled as he entered.
“Good to see you too Bootsie.”
He replied as the young receptionist quietly closed the large wooded door behind him as he left, Quentin took up the seat offered.
“I have come with some very good news.”
He said as he placed his briefcase on the plush carpet besides his chair and opened it to retrieve its contents. He pulled out all of his files and placed them on the deeply waxed antique desk in front of him.
“Well what’s the good news Quentin?”
Bootsie asked in an inquisitive manner.
“Our plan is working just as we had hoped, I received an e-mail detailing the progress made so far.”
Quentin said as he opened a file, he retrieved a printed e-mail and passed it across the desk.
“As you will see we have heard from Donald Chadwick and he has the pleasure of informing us that J.C. Kellar has contacted him directly and informed him that he will personally be involved with the Akendo project….He has also been contacted by The Federal Highways Administration, (FHWA), and told that a certain Mrs. Angela Flores, part of the Interstate highways team has been appointed to manage any and all highways planning, overriding local input.,.”
He waited a moment while Bootsie scan read his e-mail before continuing.
“This means that hopefully we have Kellar just where we want him, personally involved with the project and if the information I have gleaned so far is accurate we will be able to establish professional misconduct and possibly corruption. That is if he takes as we think he will an unsavory approach to conducting business. We are hoping he will overcharge Alkendo Corp and possibly enter into corrupt relationships with whoever he needs to to get the project delivered………You know there is not a cat in hells chance of anyone developing that land with all of its protections, so for him to help Akendo get all of its required zoning permissions and state approvals then he will surely be greasing palms all over the place.., Also with this appointment of Mrs. Flores it seems that the corruption may have federal links… it is strange to put someone of her stature in charge and override the local management and input…..I wonder if Kellar has been at work behind the scenes already and got her appointed somehow?…. We will just have to wait and see how things pan out.”
“Great…..,this is good progress….good job Quentin.”
Bootsie said with a satisfied smile.
Quentin nodded acknowledging of Bootsie’s appreciation before continuing.
“Lets not forget that Mr. J.C Kellar has never been implicated in any inquiry for un-professional or corrupt business dealings, he is a clever man who built Latham, Kellar and Bond from nothing and guards its reputation jealously……….We must maintain the original course of our plan and get him deeply involved in the Akendo project and see where he slips up…….The initial piece of information that lead us to take this course of action has proved invaluable………. My team has been conducting a wide range of surveillance and research activities based upon this initial lead and we are finding more and more instances of professional misconduct and corruption that seem to be state wide.”
He paused again while the e-mail was scan read to its end and handed back to him.
“Please expand Quentin, I am intrigued.”
Bootsie asked.
Well there is nothing concrete yet but Lottie and the team have uncovered a web of information and contacts that initially seems to implicate regional Latham, Kellar and Bond offices in Claiborne, Lincoln, Rapides, Evangeline, St Landry, East Feliciana, West Baton Rouge, Terrebonne and Plaquemines…All of which, again seem to have differing levels of corrupt relationships with local government officials,…. and that is without the professional misconduct that the team is starting to uncover.”
“Do we have hard facts, Quentin?,”
Bootsie asked before continuing.
“We need to be sure of our position before we act, we need hard documentation that supports all of this information otherwise it’s a no goer.”
“Don’t worry about that, Lottie knows exactly what to do and is gathering a significant amount of documentation and surveillance evidence to support all of this…. Don’t forget this is not even the main thrust to our plan, this is just what Lottie has uncovered by teasing out one loose thread. What was a relatively insignificant complaint made over ten years ago is opening up a whole can of worms, the more the team digs the more they are uncovering.”
“You are right Quentin we need to hook him on the Akendo project so let’s keep our focus on that and reel Kellar in…. Keep Lottie working on all of this background information , you never know we may need it as a back up.”
“Agreed.”
Quentin said.
Bootsie thanked Quentin for the progress report and all of the work he had done so far.
“I cannot believe what you are uncovering, Quentin……… How on earth has he kept all of this under wraps for so long?” ,
Bootsie asked as Quentin returned his files to his briefcase and prepared to leave.
“I really don’t know………, but I can think of two possibilities either he has no idea of what his junior partners and associates are getting up to in his offices right across the state… Which I don’t for one minute believe or secondly the corruption goes much, much deeper and he has some very powerful friends in Washington that protect him.”
“Well we will find out one way or another.”
Bootsie said before standing up, shaking Quentin’s hand firmly and escorting him to the door of the office.
“I’ll be in touch soon.”
Quentin said as he walked out of the office and down the corridor towards reception.
The office door was closed behind Quentin and Bootsie returned to sit at the desk and think over all of the information Quentin had just provided. There was much to consider, progressing with the plan could have three outcomes, if the plan was successful and everything worked out as they wanted there was a large gain to be made. If the plan was unsuccessful in implicating Kellar personally in unprofessional behaviour or corruption then they would neither gain nor loose anything, they would still be in the same uncomfortable position that they were currently in. But if the plan had unforeseen consequences then there was much to loose, if Kellar was being protected then everything could be lost.
He decided to go for a walk in the grounds, clear his mind and think for a while. He loosened his tie and took it off, unbuttoned his collar and rolled up both of his shirt sleeves back up across tanned and muscle bound forearms, both of which were decorated with tattoos. His right with an upturned dagger with the words Ni Desit Virtus scribed beneath and his left with an American Bald Eagle flying over the Japanese symbol of a Torri. These were just two of the tattoos that were kept hidden from public view by his suit, not out of shame or embarrassment, because he was fiercely proud of his tattoos and what they stood for, it was just a consequence of spending almost all of his waking hours in a suit then in the evenings attending some function or other.
Closing his office door behind him Bootsie walked down the corridor to reception, He spoke firstly with the security guard then with the young man at the desk, asking for his next appointment to be put back by an hour and to make the appropriate apologies on his behalf.
“Of course sir, consider it done.”
The young man replied.
“I need a bit of quiet time to think, I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Bootsie told the young man as he gestured for the security guard to follow him. Bootsie, with the security guard at his side walked over to the lift and pressed the call button, when the lift arrived and the pair of them stepped in, the security guard pressed the button G and down they travelled to the ground floor. Once out of the building Bootsie walked slowly in the shade of the trees with the security guard a discrete five paces behind him.
Bootsie’s thoughts travelled back to a time when he and Quentin’s father had both been young men in their teens, boys who had grown into men, fighting in some of the fiercest battles in Vietnam between late 1968 and 1972. He remembered his first day with his battalion in mid 1968, he had just completed training and joined the Iron Rakasans at Đắk Tô, a village in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. An area known as the “tri-border” where the borders of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia all met. Đắk Tô, it was located just north of the Vietnamese town of Tan Canh which the Americans had nicknamed ‘Tin Can.’ He remembered feeling so young, only eighteen years of age and the men of the platoon he joined were all battle hardened men, some nineteen, some twenty one or twenty two with the eldest only twenty four. But these men had had at least the last eight months in Vietnam experiencing of some very fierce combat.
The first person he had spoken to was Leonard Shein or ‘Lucky Leo’ as he was known. He had offered the young quiet Samuel a cigarette when the platoon leader Lieutenant Langford had brought Samuel over to meet all the men. It was on this first day that he was also introduced to Luke Foreman, Donald Chadwick, and Rickey De Luca, and it was also the day he got his nickname, he became Bootsie. It was simple, he was fresh out of boot camp and had never seen the horrors of combat and all his new comrades in the platoon called him that from his very first hour. It was a nickname that stuck with him and forty four years later was a name he was proud of, a name that only his closest friends and associates used. Samuel or “Bootsie.” Leo, Donald Rickey, and Luke all became very close friends, Rickey being the only one of the five of them that didn’t make it back to the US from their last tour in 1972, Part way through the year he had been killed on a covert operation in Laos, Luke and Donald had brought his shattered body back across the border but he had died before they could be picked up by helicopter. The whole platoon took Rickey’s loss badly, he was the platoon Joker, as courageous as a lion and as fierce in battle as a Viking warrior.
Even after all of those years it still brought a tear to his eye when he though of the loss of Rickey. He lingered with this sad memory playing across his mind for a second or two before a moment of clarity. The best form of defense is attack he thought to himself, and that is what they had always done in Nam and it had been a successful tactic so he would go on an all out attack and use both the Akendo project and the information that Quentin was uncovering to nail Kellar. Bootsie stopped for a moment and took out his cell phone, a moment later a voice answered with a sharp “Hello.”
“Hi Quentin, I’ve just been thinking and we’ll go for it on fronts, the Akendo project and all of this state wide corruption and malpractice that you are uncovering…. Get your guys to get as much as they can on the whole Latham, Kellar and Bond set up and find out who in local or central government is involved.”
“Consider it done Bootsie.”
Came the reply from Quentin.
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
