Chapter 5: Silent Partner

REFLECTIONS

The conference room was packed with reporters and I felt like a hunted animal as I stood behind the podium facing their curious faces and brightly lit cameras. Kevin and the Lt Governor stood to either side of me along with several key members of the justice department and amnesty group that fought for my release. I was just asked who I felt was most instrumental in my newfound freedom. It was a stupid question and I was annoyed to be put in such a spot. I gave the appearance of deep consideration as I formed the response in my head. I felt a reassuring prod from Kevin.

“That is a difficult question to answer, sir,” I began as they all looked on expectantly, “I am most grateful to everyone who played a part on my behalf.” I went on to acknowledge every single member of the amnesty group, as well as the members of the legal team and investigative journalists. I finished by turning towards the Lt Governor and praised him and his staff for blazing a path through the political quagmire. Last I thanked the Governor herself. Though she was unable to attend the press conference I made sure to praise her for her foresight and diligence on behalf of all those wrongly punished by a broken legal system. If they were impressed by my eloquent speech, made without cue cards, they didn’t show it.

After a moment the energy seemed to return to the conference room and I held up my hand to pause any further questions. “There is one other person who I feel especially grateful to, for without them—who knows how much longer this would have taken. If it weren’t for the diligent work of a certain cyber-sleuth, who we know only as ‘Spyder’, justice may never have truly prevailed.” I placed both of my hands together before my heart. “To them, I can only express my sincerest gratitude and wish wholeheartedly that I could offer more than simple thanks.”

Later I was fumbling with my new flip phone when it buzzed unexpectedly. Flipping it open I saw a new message that only showed a spinning asterisk for the identity of the sender.

You’re welcome.

PRESENT

I need your help; tapped as a reply to the older text. I didn’t know if it was still valid and it was a shot in the dark at best, but I felt better for it as I started my truck and pulled back onto the interstate.

Fifteen minutes later my phone buzzed once more. I pulled back onto the shoulder and parked.

How can I help?

Can I call you? It’s a long story.

Not with that crappy phone, call this 7-digit number, wait for the tone then press # and record your message. When you are done, hang up. A series of numbers appeared on my screen and I touched them to pull up the call option.

It took me a few minutes to relate my situation and admit that I was techno-challenged, and in desperate need of his help. It was not long before my phone buzzed once more.

Indeed, you are.

I waited patiently as the seconds ticked by before I was rewarded with another buzz.

Wire $15,000 to this account. It will only be good for 1 hour.

Fifteen grand! Holy crap! What will I get for it?

Everything you need.

It became apparent that our discussion was over so I pulled back onto the interstate and called Kevin.

The problem (and blessing) with off-grid living was two-fold. I had no internet and no phone service. The great drawback with countersurveillance was that I needed both if I were to have any chance of protecting Hondo’s granddaughter and keeping tabs on my surroundings. I had two options with the remote game cameras. I could go and retrieve the SD memory cards from each and review them on my laptop, or I could set them up to view remotely through a wireless connection. The same limitation affected my drone.

I had no idea how Spyder was going to fix my problems but I suspected it would involve satellite dishes and other science fiction crap that I knew nothing about. This was a new thing for me—relying upon the goodwill of others (even if it cost $14K) and I felt more than a little vulnerable.

Once I passed the mile marker, my phone buzzed several times and I quickly scrolled through the message headers until I spotted the spinning asterisk.

Pick up your packages at the Fed Ex OnSite at this address. Follow the instructions exactly! An address followed that was not far from the Home Depot where I was headed.

‘Packages’ was a misleading term it turned out, because waiting for me were three large crates that required myself and two others to lift and place into the bed of my truck. Each was numbered 1 through 3 and none had return addresses or any point of origin information. When the curious agent pulled up the tracking data, he found it had been wiped. Of course, there was a staggering COD fee to be paid before I could take possession. ‘$14,000 my ass, I grumbled.’

With the help of my Yanmar and a forklift attachment, I was able to unload the crates and place them under shelter until I could begin breaking them down and ‘follow instructions exactly.’ First, I had to finish setting up my ISO shelter and that took me well into the next day. By then I was tired but eager to walk through my home and test everything out. I had hot water, an enclosed tub/shower, and a fridge that I loaded all of my cooler contents into. The lights, stove, microwave, dishwasher, and furnace all worked accordingly and I was very happy. All I needed now was some furniture, dishes, cooking utensils, window dressings, and ... a bed. Travis had no such hangups as he plopped himself down on the vinyl floor and went to sleep.

The first crate revealed a large manila envelope atop several more boxes and an impressive roll of triple-shielded coaxial cable. The large envelope had the words: FOLLOW EXACTLY written in block letters by a meticulous hand. I sat outside in my camp chair with a cup of coffee and began reading through all the material. It was a satellite uplink array and my silent partner wanted me to place the compact satellite dish atop the canyon rim, directly above my shelter. There were diagrams and clear instructions for completing the process as well as the solar panel to power it. I was also provided with 2,000 feet of cable to stretch down the canyon wall to my home. How he proposed I get the heavy roll of wire and various gadgets to the top of said canyon, he didn’t say. I suppose that was my problem. With a sigh, I looked straight up the wall to the distant rim. ‘Won’t never will and can’t never can... ‘ Travis mimicked my dramatic sigh and looked up at me with hooded eyes.

“That’s right buddy,” I patted his head affectionately, “you’re gonna help.”

REFLECTIONS

Only 20 of us were accepted into the new canine reintegration program at Ogden. That was the number of kennels we built. Candidates were chosen by rather strict criteria: No 3^rd strikers, you had to be young enough to outlive your dog, physically able to handle it, and pending release. We were also interviewed individually to asses our abilities and willingness to train and maintain the animals while we were still incarcerated. We spent several days in a classroom being instructed in just about every aspect of owning and caring for a dog. Various speakers came and made presentations on subjects like life stages, types of breeds and their traits, veterinary care, training, different skill sets of working dogs, handling techniques for various breeds, etc.

The best part of the program for the prison was that it didn’t cost them a dime to set up. Inmates built the kennels from donated materials (for the strapping wage of $3 per day of labor). The animals were donated by various shelters after undergoing vigorous examinations. All food and housing materials as well as the training aids were either donated or purchased by the respective owners.

The day finally came when we got to meet our dogs. There was no selection process. The 20 pups were simply dropped off into the fenced yard adjacent to the kennels and we all stood around observing as they barked excitedly and ran to and fro, checking out their new digs. It was a hodgepodge of different breeds, there were over a dozen Pitbulls, a couple of Shepherds, two Bloodhounds, and a Boxer. There were two hyperactive Greyhounds that sped like missiles around the enclosure, a white curly-haired Poodle and ... Travis.