Chapter 4

Alex had spent the rest of the previous day creating his plan to steal the Aldriches’ marijuana. He used the template he’d found when he stole the files from Agri-Tech Fertilizer the previous fall. Alex liked it because it filled in some of the gaps he felt his old planning system suffered.

He outlined the production process of the weed from seedlings to drying and packaging to state certification. He concluded that until it was packaged, it wasn’t worth the effort to steal it because it would be too hard to gather enough to be worthwhile.

So, he eliminated planning a heist at the farm.

That left the logistics of delivering the pot to the medical companies, which would convert it into other products, such as oils, or package it for sale at designated stores.

He did some research and found that a semi could haul about 9,000 pounds—the load limited by volume rather than weight. They projected a whole crop of about 800,000 pounds from all 40 acres would take 89 truckloads, and each truck would be valued at $1 million.

On a side note, he found an amusing coincidence. Climate-controlled trailers were called reefers—so named because of their refrigeration equipment—which was also an old slang term for a marijuana cigarette or joint.

Stealing a semitrailer would be a piece of cake. Alex quickly came up with a dozen different options, from compromising a driver to forcing the truck off the road. He created plans for each possibility that reduced risk and maximized the chances for success.

He then gave suggestions on how to prevent the theft in each case.

Grace was reading his plans as she drank an overpriced coffee from downstairs. Alex mentally put a coffeemaker, a microwave, and a small refrigerator on the list for office supplies. He calculated that it wouldn’t take long for those appliances to pay for themselves if she cut out her trips downstairs.

“I see now why we never caught the South Philly crew. This makes committing a robbery dead simple,” Grace said. “I would have never thought of your last suggestion. It eliminates all the risk for the Aldriches.”

The previous night, a random thought had hit Alex before he headed to bed. What if the product was considered ‘delivered’ when it was loaded on the truck instead of at the destination warehouse? Let the big corporate giant—who would make the bulk of the money—take ownership and, with that, the risk. It would be as simple as defining the handoff in the contract terms.

“Let me digest this. Why don’t you finish with the security for the office, and then, if Sheriff Conly hasn’t gotten back to us, take the day off?” Grace suggested.

It was a warm, bright afternoon in May, with the weather caught between late spring and early summer. Alex lay on his back, drying out in the sun. He could feel the water from his swim trickling through his hair, and his skin felt fantastic from the evaporation. His swimsuit clung to his hips.

“What are you smiling for?” Dawn asked in the chair next to him.

“It’s summer; I just went for a swim; and now I’m sitting next to the most beautiful girl in Conclave.”

“Oh, thanks, Alex,” Ivy said, sitting on his other side.

Dawn raised an eyebrow to indicate he was better off agreeing with Ivy.

The rest of the gang had other stuff to do, so it was just the three of them. Alex looked toward the clubhouse and saw a face he recognized instantly: Alexei Mikhailov.

Alex sat perfectly still, praying the man didn’t see him because he didn’t look happy. A young man appeared at Alexei’s side. He was stocky, with tattoos covering his neck and exposed arms. Muscle? Or worse, Russian Mafia?

Alexei spotted Alex and made eye contact. He crooked his finger to tell Alex to come to him.

“I think Natasha’s dad wants you,” Dawn said.

“If I disappear, tell Janice,” Alex said as he grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head before getting up.

Alex followed Alexei into the clubhouse’s dining room. The hostess glanced down at Alex’s wet swimsuit and no shoes, but one look from Alexei caused her to quickly seat the three of them.

Alexei’s phone rang. He glanced at it and stood back up.

“Order what you want,” he said as he took the call and walked away.

“Alex.”

“Dima,” the young man said in a heavy accent.

“The Reuben, burger, and fish and chips are all good,” Alex suggested as he looked at the menu.

Dima grunted, so Alex didn’t say anything else.

They were halfway done eating when Alexei returned. He looked even more upset, if that were possible.

“A DDoS attack just took down the company server. We currently can’t track or take new orders.”

Dima said a word in Russian that Alex took as a swear word.

“I should go fix that.”

As Dima left, Alexei sat down.

“I have two questions for you.”

Alex nodded to let Alexei know to ask away.

“Are you behind the hacking of our systems?”

“No, sir.”

Alexei took a beat to decide if he believed Alex or not.

“Can you help us figure out who is doing it?”

“Is it just a DDoS attack?” Alex asked.

He knew that Distributed Denial-of-Service was a hacking technique. It was where someone would flood a server with fake requests to overwhelm it, crash it, and make it unavailable to other users.

“Dima found an SQL Injection attack had occurred earlier, and they gained access to our records. We found out when some of our more sensitive information was leaked to the press, and we were called for comment,” Alexei said.

“Why would someone target you?”

“Apparently, they fancy themselves eco-warriors and are convinced fertilizers are destroying the earth.”

Alex pursed his lips. He thought they might have a point, but if Agri-Tech Fertilizer were to go under, a large portion of the county would be out of work.

“What’s Dima doing?” Alex asked.

“He’s a Ukrainian hacker who came recommended. Right now, he’s fending off the attacks, but it’s taking up all his time, and we’re still down. I need this to stop, and I understand you might be of help.”

“You would need to hire CIS since I work for them.”

“No cops,” Alexei said firmly.

“Grace Carter is no longer with the FBI.”

Alexei gave Alex a stern look, but Alex just stared back at him passively. When Alexei saw he couldn’t bully Alex, he sighed.

“You give me your word she won’t be a problem?”

Alex’s amusement was plain on his face; he was never sure what Grace would do.

“She’s a woman,” he finally said.

“Well ... uh ... yeah, I see your point.”

Alex wanted to chuckle because the man sitting across from him had a houseful of women at home.

“She won’t rat you out.”

“If I weren’t desperate...”

“Well, that little admission means this’ll be pricey,” Alex warned.

The scowl on Alexei’s face changed to a look of amusement.

“Are you sure you’re not Russian?”

When Alex walked in with former Russian Mafia crime boss Alexei Mikhailov, Grace’s eyes got big. It had been her job for several years to try to put him behind bars. Rumor had it he’d ‘retired.’ The Russians were owed money, so they took the Agri-Tech business from its former owner and gifted it to Alexei as his golden parachute.

She invited him and Alex into the conference room. She noted that Alex simply sat quietly as Alexei explained his problem.

Once he finished, Grace said she had to talk to Alex for a minute, so they went into her office.

“He must be desperate to have come to me,” she said first and then had another thought. “Can you help him? Because I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I have something that’ll track the hacker.”

“Is this anything I need to worry about?” Grace asked.

“I’m not a cop. How would I know?”

She looked like she could use one of those hot chocolate drinks he liked so much—maybe with some liquor in it.