Chapter 3

Hot white chocolate with a shot of raspberry syrup called Alex’s name. Having the CIS office upstairs from the coffee shop was a problem because he would end up spending all his money there and be car-less when he turned sixteen.

He promised himself this would be the last one when he ordered it, but he knew better. One taste, and he made happy humming sounds as the warm, yummy goodness woke his tongue up. It put him in a good mood as he entered the upstairs office.

“Morning, Alex. You ready to get to work?” Grace asked.

He didn’t want to seem too eager, so he shrugged.

“Let’s go to the conference room and talk,” she said.

Alex followed her into a small room with a small round table, four chairs, and a whiteboard on the wall.

As soon as he was seated, Grace opened one of the folders in front of her.

“We have two new clients. The first is the Aldrich farm. They’ve been given a cultivation license to grow medical marijuana. To start, they’ve converted one of their soybean fields to growing cannabis. The state requires that they tag each plant for tracking purposes and that the field is secure.”

“Do they have a plan, or do we need to create one?” Alex asked.

“Sheriff Conly helped them get the basics but asked us to plug any holes we see. We’ll drive out after our meeting and walk the property,” Grace said.

Alex nodded his agreement, so Grace pulled out her second folder.

“Sheriff Conly has asked me to help him figure out who he can trust in his department now that his predecessor has been shown to be corrupt.”

“Does he have any idea where Sheriff Calhoun is?”

“None,” Grace admitted.

“Do we have to follow a bunch of rules, or can we just do our job?” Alex asked.

“We haven’t been asked to build a case against anyone. We’re supposed to identify potential problems and then let Sheriff Conly figure it out.”

Alex pursed his lips because she hadn’t directly answered his question. Grace waited for a beat before she continued.

“I would rather we didn’t do anything illegal.”

“Meaning?” Alex asked.

“I don’t want you to use your software to help us get the information we need.”

Alex shrugged again.

“The FBI seized my equipment and managed to destroy everything,” Alex lied.

He could see that Grace didn’t believe him, but she let it slide.

“But I might have an idea or two,” Alex added.

“We’re meeting Sheriff Conly after lunch. You might as well tell us both then because he has to approve it.”

Before they left for the Aldrich farm, Grace had Alex set up the office computers. Reese had put a rush on Grace’s order, built the machines on Sunday, and delivered them as soon as the office opened that morning.

Grace found Alex using zip ties to organize the multitude of wires on the last PC.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I just have to plug in the router, and you’ll have Internet.”

She waited until he switched it on. Alex checked his phone and showed her they now had Wi-Fi.

“I’ll install the security system for the office this afternoon,” Alex said.

Grace doubted they needed one but knew it would drive him crazy if she didn’t let him install it. But then again, if she was going to be in the security business, it would be foolish not to have any for her own office.

Alex noted that Grace had a new black Camaro. It suited her better than the Fed cars he was used to seeing her in. He also gave her props for not painting it a girly color like Janice had done to her Corvette. No car should be pink.

On the way to the Aldrich farm, Grace gave Alex background info on the commercial marijuana business.

“Sheriff Conly helped them secure a cultivation license to eventually use 40 acres. They plan to start with a five-acre plot to figure everything out and expand from there.

“The sheriff didn’t do this to just be a nice guy. The county will tax the earnings at 4% of their gross receipts. A county consultant estimated they would collect between $3.2 million and $4 million in taxes annually from the 40 acres. The cannabis tax will be given to the sheriff’s department for an enforcement team tasked with eradicating illegal grows across the six neighboring counties,” Grace said.

“That’s smart. It’ll force users to get their weed through legal means; that way, the income will be taxed and safer.”

“That’s the plan,” Grace agreed, then continued. “Once fully up and running, it’s estimated that the 40 acres will gross over $80 million. That’s based on 800,000 plants producing almost a pound of product each.”

That got Alex’s full attention. He now knew why they would need security beyond what an ordinary farm would require.

“What do we need to secure?” Alex asked.

“There are two main areas. Of course, that includes the fields themselves, and then there’s the drying barn,” Grace said.

“Drying barn?”

“They dry the weed slowly for ten to fourteen days in a climate-controlled dark and dry place with a temperature of around sixty-four degrees. I guess this process reduces shrinkage and produces more weed weight. The Aldriches are converting one of their barns for this purpose.”

“Do we have to worry about cash on site?”

“No, these will be business-to-business transactions, conducted through the banking system. There are a handful of banks in the state that do business with cannabis growers, processors, and dispensaries.”

“That’s a relief. But even without worrying about cash, with that kind of money at stake, I want to add security for the whole farm, including the house,” Alex said. “Some criminals aren’t beyond using the family as leverage. We also should look into how they plan to ship the product. Having it all neatly packed into a truck would be the easiest way to steal it,” he continued, thinking through various ways someone might plan to rob them.

“Today, we’ll walk the farm, and then we’ll come back and create a security plan. From there, I want you to punch holes in it. Show me how you would rob them,” Grace said.

“I’m not doing this for minimum wage,” Alex said. “I’m not sure you can afford me.”

He figured Janice must have warned her because Grace didn’t react.

“When my dad would prepare a plan for a job, we got paid based on the potential score. We charged a hundred grand for something in the million-dollar range,” Alex added. “And this is 80 times that.”

“That seems fair.”

Alex blinked because he hadn’t expected her to agree. Then his brows furrowed because there had to be a catch. Finally, he couldn’t take the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I may be charging too little.”

“Hang on. How come you get the money?” Alex asked.

“Did they pay you for the heist plans?” Grace asked, sounding way too reasonable in his estimation.

“Well, no. Sonny would receive the payment.”

Salvatore ‘Sonny’ Grande had been his dad’s boss.

“Would Sonny then hand you a hundred grand?” Grace asked.

Alex didn’t like where this was going.

“No. He had to kick some up to Mikey, and then he paid the rest of the crew, so my dad only got a piece of it.”

Michael ‘Mikey’ Mazzini was the South Philly capo.

“So, your dad gave you the money left over,” Grace said. “That wasn’t anywhere near a hundred grand.”

Alex looked out the side window, not wanting to face Grace because she was right.

“I bet your dad didn’t pay you anything,” Grace added. “In my book, minimum wage would be a raise.”

When he turned back, he saw Grace holding back her laughter. She had him, and she knew it. Then she let him off the hook.

“IF. And I mean if you do a good job, I promise to pay you a bonus. I value you more than just a minimum-wage employee, but I’m not making any money right now.”