The Unexpected
Copyright© 2025 by Technocracy
Chapter 14
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 14 - "If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out, and difficult." -- Heraclitus of Ephesus
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
[Writer’s note - A rambling chapter, the result of editing down three into a single chapter.]
Pearsall, Tx – 02 August 2004
Billy Jo Spoons, still discombobulated about Mr La Cruz’s shoving his daughter at him, sought the calm and security of his steel horse. He ‘mounted’ his four-wheeled steed, an old and well-maintained 1970 Chevy C10 truck that he and his brother Harry had re-built, twice, during middle school and high school. Billy Joe held fast to this Fleetside Chevy. The machine was an enduring connection, a monument, to his childhood years and memories of a simpler time with Harry, his older brother.
To Billy Joe, Harry exemplified ‘coolness’. Probably the smartest person to ever come out of Frio County, the only athlete to make it to any state wrestling final in many a year; at least for the two years that he bothered to attend the academically-lagging Pearsall High School. In addition to those accolades, Harry had been the backbone of the family ranch. Those responsibilities and duties and familial obligations, that were once Harry’s, now fell on Billy Joe.
Billy Joe liked that his older brother had remained an enigma to the local community. His family had not spread the news, nor had his brother allowed MIT to do a press release. But the county sherif department was full of busy-bodies that routinely misused law enforcement data systems, keeping tabs on such stuff, thus spreading the word when MIT conferred the doctorate, with the resultant crowning of Billy Joe’s brother as ‘Doctor Harry’ by the locals.
Billy Joe had no taste for the notoriety that had become attached to the Spoons family name during the previous several years. Thousands of dollars, designated for STEM programs, had poured into the local middle and high schools, with minimal benefit accrued to the students. There were few, if any, competent school administrators, and there were no uncorrupted school board members, to implement any advanced science or math programs. This started to change when a certain series of donations to a particular pair of sherif and district attorney candidates’ election programs changed the political landscape of the sparse south Texas area comprising Frio County.
Billy Joe drove north on Mesquite Street, past the high school, which he glanced to his left with a sneer. Billy Joe did a well-sequenced series of staccato foot-punches to the accelerator and clutch pedals as he accelerated out of town, onto Texas FM 2779. The flat lands to the inland extant, forming the gulf coastal plains of Frio County was, at its best, uninspiring. At its worst, it was blazing hot, humid, and infested with numerous oil and gas wells. The energy industry’s presence was made obvious by both the sights and smells of the local wealth extraction from the Mackover and Eagle Ford geologic formations. At least that was how Harry had explained it to Billy Joe.
Arriving at the ranch’s main gate complex, Billy Joe looked at the infinity symbol, with a logical negation symbol, that Harry had engraved on the concrete pylons that formed the entrance structure support to the main Spoons property. It always made him smile that his parents had never determined the symbols’ meaning.
Harry had been careful to never discuss his (lack of) religious beliefs with his brother or sister, but Billy Joe had not been so reticent to discuss the subject with his sister. Otherwise, Harry had made it a point to explain the serene logic of science and math to his younger siblings. Harry had been mindful about any overt influence to his brother and sister, leaving them to form their own belief systems, and to make their own paths. Billy Joe had no such compunctions about calling things as he saw them, and voiced his beliefs on the (lack of) supernatural with his sister; but always sans parentis.
Hearing her horse approach, Billy Joe smiled at the sight of his sister’s easy rocking on her saddle, flowing with the gallop of her horse. Billy Joe finished securing the two banked entrance barriers to the main ranch.
“Whatcha doin’, girl?”
“Heard ya got the stuff Harry sent. What was it?”
“Some letters for us, and some boxes of stuff to deliver to Mission Trust. Guessin’ that he don’t trust them east-coast lawyers.”
“Letters? Gimme!”
“Why ya way out here?”
“Waiting for ya. Marie called me. Gimme the letter for me.”
Billy Joe rolled his eyes at the near-instantaneous flow of local information. He opened the large envelope, extracting the letter for his sister.
“Ya read it?”
“Nope.”
“Marie is right. You have no interest in anything not ranchin’ or not machines or not food. You had better start caring ‘bout the people that like you ... Sunday dinner, don’t forget, or mom will give us all a load of poo.”
Before Billy Joe could ask for clarification about ‘caring’, Marne had stuffed the letter down her shirt, then galloped off to the east with a whoop. Billy Joe shrugged as he turned his truck north onto the gravel road leading to the lay-down yard.
Billy Joe smiled as he saw a white-tail doe and her fawn making a hell-bent path in the opposing direction; then thinking about the manner and the direction that the deer were running, he slammed on the brakes, guessing there might be a big boar in the area. Billy Joe loved wild boar meat.
Grabbing a box of .308 Winchester rounds from the glove compartment, Billy Joe removed the Browning BLR from the truck rack, loaded four rounds into the magazine, jacked the lever to put a round into the chamber, lowered the hammer to half-cock, then dropped the small magazine out of the rifle to load another round.
The laydown yard, having a large livestock tank immediately to the west, and thick copses of brush to the north and east, provided an obvious stalking path. The yard’s fence and water impoundment would limit the boar’s movements to a 180 degree arc, and the wind was out of the northwest, so Billy Joe approached from the base of the dividing ridge to the southeast of the yard, hoping to find more than one boar routing in the bushes.
Billy Joe did not find any four-legged vermin; he found a couple of the two-legged variety. Kneeling behind the bushes at the ridge, Billy Joe watched the two men. One had climbed the laydown yard’s light pole, and was in the process of attaching a small box to a wooden stanchion and platform that his father had used to mount a wildlife camera. The other man was placing something onto a tractor, then walked to a dozer, placing a small box behind the operator’s seat.
Billy Joe was getting a bit more than slightly pissed as to this continuation of his Day of Weirdness. Knowing how Harry had generally dismissed their father’s rants on governmental intrusion, Billy Joe, for the first time, thought his brother to have been wrong; very wrong. Billy Joe’s rationalization was that they were energy company people looking to get dirt, as several oil companies had sought drilling rights on the Spoons properties for years. One wildcatter crew had been caught side-drilling onto one of their properties. As far as he knew, those three illegal drillers were still in a state prison.
Billy Joe watched the two men with mild amusement until he saw a shortened version of a military rifle, leaned up against a stack of fence posts, not far from the man on the ground. Billy Joe figured it to most likely be an M16-type, thus re-considering his father’s missives of the paramilitary militia types, directing a conclusion that a bunch of said militia nut-jobs may have moved into the area.
Billy Joe shaked his head to, literally, fling away the paranoic idea that these were militia types. His logic was that this intrusion was of some other origin and reason.
1000 Bristol Street North, Newport Beach, Ca - 02 August 2004
Robby Anders and Matthew Goldstein had been directed to the manager’s office of the shipping center to receive the packages.
“Mister Goldstein, may I see two different picture IDs?”
Robby and Matt exchanged glances, realizing the level of security indicated what they had feared the most. As Matthew Goldstein signed for the shipment, Robby watched the manager open a small cage that formed one wall of the office. Two boxes and a large legal-sized envelope were removed from the security cage.
Beneath the envelope’s FedEx shipping label, hand-written with a black Sharpie, was ‘README NOW’. Matthew accepted the two boxes, handed the envelope to Robby, then led his partner and directed him to the driver’s seat of their ML500, half-filled with boxes of legal briefs and case notes. Matthew did a quick look around the parking lot before closing the passenger-side door.
“Close your door, Rob. I will read Benny’s letter.”
======= Gentlemen,
Please immediately follow the enclosed checklist and the procedures that Henry van Dooren had previously provided. Do not discuss Henry’s directives with myself or anyone else, other than Robert Northrup.
We are all safe and will remain in Massachusetts. SIG will continue to operate. Andrea and Lizzy send their love.
Benny ======
“What were Henry’s instructions?”
Matthew pulled his Blackberry Quark, pressed a few buttons, then exhaled slowly.
“Looks like we have a bit of a trip. We’re going to Corona.”
“Corona? As in the Corona in Riverside County?”
Robby Anders thought Riverside county much too gauche and conservative for his tastes. But he figured that his well-practiced heterosexual act would fare well in such ‘foreign’ lands.
“To be more precise, Naval Surface Warfare Center, Corona. Give me a few seconds, I need to make a call ... Do we have a Thomas map book for that area in here?”
The mention of a military base gave Robby a start.
“They’re in the back seat. I’ll get it, luv. Make your call.”
Robby pawed through several banker boxes of legal case files, to find three thick Thomas Guide map books. Matthew made the call, per the standing instructions from the retired army officer that was Benny’s security chief.
“Matthew Goldstein for Commander Baine, please ... thanks ... Rob, they have me on hold...”
“The intrigue is killing me, luv.”
“Shhh! This is not a game, Rob ... Yes, this is he. I am representing Doctor Benson Harrison per the directives of Lieutenant Colonel Henry van Doreen ... That is correct ... No, the containers remain unopened ... Understood, commander. We are driving from southern Orange County, so I anticipate two to five hours, depending on traffic ... Camp Pendleton? About 15 to 20 minutes south, but ... I understand, Commander.”
Matthew exhaled slowly before addressing his significant other.
“You wanted ‘intrigue’, Rob? We have intrigue. We are to go to an unmarked gate on Camp Pendleton, then we will go to an small airfield to be picked up by a navy helicopter. And Rob, they apparently have a file on both of us, and expect both of us to go to Corona for a debrief after we deliver this stuff.”
“Most exciting!”
“Perhaps, but I rather find this disconcerting, Rob. And this is making a disorganized mess of our attempts to retire.”
“Oh, pheww. This is fun, my luv. Let’s go.”
Most of the time, Matthew found Robby’s childish sense of adventure charming. This was not one of those times.
MCB Camp Pendleton, Ca -- 01 August 2004
The young corporal was a bitter Marine; sent back state-side to baby-sit, and be baby-sat by, the Fifth Marines RBE, when he got wounded in Iraq. He had not been allowed to recover in-country and stay with his platoon. The corporal felt no loyalty to the rear-echelon POGs.
The corporal watched the navy MH-60 hover with the two wide-eyed civilians aboard, rotate to the northwest, then transition and climb out to an unknown destination. The young NCO had been dispatched by an intel officer in 5th Marines regimental S-2 shop. His instructions were explicit - meet and verify the identity of two civilians at the oscar utility gate, lead them to a specific OLF, stand watch over their POV until the bird returned, then lead the two civvies back to the same base-entry point.
But there was another officer that had provided additional orders, his former platoon commander. His LT, who was, mysteriously, now at Quantico, had emailed instructions that same morning, requesting that the corporal provide the identities of the two civilians, and their departure and return times. As typical of young Marines that had done a pump in the sandbox, the young NCO had a strong bond, and a profound loyalty, to his former platoon commander. The corporal’s sense of duty to these REMFs was minimal. He was stuck in a miserable limbo with these POGs until his battalion returned.
------------ Balboa Island, Newport Beach, Ca - 03 August 2004
Robby Anders set out breakfast on the patio that faced the boat docks. He waited for his partner, watching the water slap the boats and docks, and worrying about Benny’s safety.
Matthew Goldstein approached the breakfast table with certain trepidation, or rather disappointment.
“Still no eggs or cakes? You are taking this cardio diet much too seriously, Rob. I have reconciled the loss of bacon and most meat, but no eggs? No butter for the toast?”
“The fruit is delicious. The juice is fresh-squeezed. Just shhh ... Matty, what can we do for Benny? And what of Andrea and her girl?”
“Nothing ... Rob, this is not a rhetorical question. Do you trust me?”
Robby Anders recoiled at a question he thought self-evident.
“How could you ever ask me such a thing. I trust you with my very life, my love.”
“Then clear your mind of Benny. He, and his cohorts, have proved most capable of handling the situation. Yes, there could be, at times, an increased danger level for him while dealing with these people. But Benny is not alone. He has Harry and Bob. Not to mention the clever retired army colonel, whom seems quite devoted to our boy.”
“And if we must go forward with the rest of that check-list?”
“Like I said, Rob, they are well-prepared and capable. And Benny would not want us to spend our remaining years in constant fear of what would most likely not come.”
Matthew Goldstein’s internal assessment of possible positive outcomes had long since collapsed, thus choosing to tell a lie by omission. He would not inform his lover as to the implementation of the remainder of Benny’s checklist. Matthew was a lawyer that had lived a life where his profession was measured by literal language and pure logic. He knew that the resultant of executing the checklist, for all practical purposes, would be a fait accompli; their privileged life as they knew it would be done.
Spoons Ranch, Frio County, Tx - 03 August 2004
The sherif, and one of his sergeant-level watch supervisors, sipped sweet tea while they watched Billy Jo Spoons and his father disembowel the nondescript electronic boxes. There were four boxes, in various stages of disassembly, scattered over the kitchen table. Billy Joe’s brother and Benson Harrison were talking him through, via phone, the tear-down process.
“ ... negative, Billy Joe. Keep the lead clipped to the lead that would go the negative battery post. Just keep looking at each capacitor terminal. Let me know if you see anything over 2.8 volts.”
“What for, Benny? I disconnected the battery.”
Billy Joe’s brother interjected a rejoinder. Harry was somewhat surprised that his brother would question the advice of a PhD-level engineer. But that was their nature in parts of rural Texas, as Benny was a ‘foreigner’.
“Just settle down your giddy-up, Billy Joe. Listen to Benny or I’ll have mom and dad take the keys to the Chevy.”
“Yeah, Yeah. I’m doin’ it...”
Billy Joe measured voltages on the circuit board with the multimeter probes, methodically progressing over the PCB’s length. Billy Joe’s complexion reddened slightly, embarrassed when he found two ceramic caps that still had a charge.
“Uh ... found two, Benny. ‘Bout three point two volts.”
Benny’s sigh was audible over the phone speaker. Billy Joe could hear a background technical discussion over the phone; and it sounded serious. Not much was intelligible until he heard Benny loudly proclaim,
“Not surprising, Robert. We have to assume that this is an active monitor with concealed backup supply. The situation now belongs to you.”
“Sherrif Jelsone? This is Robert Northrup, legal counsel for Scientific Investment Group. Whom is aware of this situation?”
“Myself, two other officers, and the county DA.”
“Has your DA issued a statement of material evidence, or have your officers started a custody chain reference?”
“No to both, sir. So what y’all have in mind?”
Henry intervened, thinking it more a security than legal issue.
“Sherrif, this is Lieutenant Colonel van Dooren, security chief for SIG. Would your DA and your department like to trace these people?”
“Damn right we would. Billy Joe said they had military weapons. That stuff sorta puts a burr in my saddle.”
“Excellent. Then Robert can talk to your DA about procedurals, and we could send an engineer to set up some some appropriate counter-measures, and perhaps on-site security.”
“Got no problems with that, colonel. What we gonna do with this electronic stuff?”
“Re-assemble with a loose wire or something and return to the original install ... if your young Mister Spoons feels up to some electronic work per Doctor Harrison’s guidance.”
Billy Joe gave father a disconcerted glance. His father returned the gesture with a non-committal shrug.
“Dad, don’t like the idea of Marny and momma being around this crazy stuff. The sherrif needs to find these jerks and throw them in jail.”
“Son, it’s not that bad...”
Billy Joe, unusual as per his level of respect for his father, interrupted. He addressed the group phone microphone more-so than the immediate group at the kitchen table.
“Dad, it is. These people got guns. And look at this fancy electronic stuff, tell me there ain’t something really big behind all of this. What if its them oil companies coming back at us for a second round? Or what if they are some government people doing bad stuff? How the heck do we protect our family and ranch from the government, or from the big oil companies?”
Harry was not happy with his brother’s additional friction, but was proud that he was looking at the big picture and the safety of the family. But feeling that a phone discussion on these issues could do nothing mitigate, Harry made, or attempted to make, his decision on the spot.
“Dad, I’m going back to the ranch. Billy Joe and me can protect the ranch. I’ll let y’all know in a few hours when I can get the next flight into San Antonio.”
Robert, Henry, and Benny all jumped on Harry’s statement. Benny beat them to the punch.
“Protect them from what, Harry? We do not have any systems data, and we do not have any knowledge of the intruders’ intent. This is a security issue; so what say you, Henry?”
“Do nothing to make anyone aware of the discovery of these surveillance systems. That would include the public arrival of different people to the area. As Harry is well-known, he is a poor choice to send. That, and he is not a security specialist. Anyone we send should go directly to the Spoons property and never be seen around the area. In addition to a security guy, we’ll need one of your tech people on site. And it can’t be Benny.”
Benny held up his palm towards Harry, indicating an end to his plans of tripping to Texas.
“Send someone, Henry. Robert, make certain that Henry’s security person is legal to operate in Texas. And I will send Mike with some of our systems.”
Science Applications International Corporation, 1615 Murray Canyon Road, San Diego, Ca - 17 August 2004
The three ‘suits’ were gathered with a man in jeans and sports coat, that offered minimal concealment for his pistol.
“Special Agent Hackman, you are asking us to navigate without eyesight. Your people lost the over-sight operation in Massachusetts and failed to find an ingress for surveillance of their main site. And the systems installed in Texas remain ineffective, or are defective.”
The ATF officer shrugged at the three tech executives’ dismissive of DIA intel-gathering attempts. The special agent firmly stating what he considered to be the obvious.
“All of that is correct. But we do know that the second shipment went to a Navy test lab in Corona, less than 100 miles from here. We have people inside the NSWC community, so the destination of the second shipment will be known in due time ... But to what end, gentlemen?”
“I do not understand.”
“The theories and equations for all five systems have been published, yet your math and science people have yet to crack these nuts. The project has diverted over three million from DEA and ATF program funds. I am not sure that recovering these documents will enable your people to duplicate SIG trading systems. I cannot risk further overt actions unless SAIC can assure the Director of technically-valid results.”
“We cannot make such a guarantee.”
“Then perhaps we should cut our losses and end this project.”
“Costs to date will be covered?”
“Probably.”
“Then we will inform the SAIC CEO’s Chief of Staff to immediately cancel.”
“Good, but don’t mothball everything. Be ready to start up if we can find people inside the IC that can understand this stuff.”
27 August 2004
Billy Joe watched the slender and greyed man walk across the limestone rock pile, carrying the bundle of tools with minimal effort. His dark-blue baseball cap, with no markings, was outlined in the rising sun. Billy Joe had no doubt that the man was former military, but he had yet to provide personal details.
The medically-retired Air Force major was able to walk, at the cost of physical pain, without a limp. His injuries sustained during counter-insurgency missions with the 720th Special Tactics Group earned him a 90% tax-free retirement check, per disabilities. His only positive take-away was that the tax-free percentage had not been considered by the court in his divorce settlement.
“Where is Mike?”
“South house. Been workin’ there non-stop since Wednesday.”
“Tell him to be here by noon.”
Billy Joe did not like how the security man, hired by Harry’s company, never talked in a conversational tone. Jason Thorns either voiced using a command tone, or answered with a terse, monotonic reply. But Billy Joe did respect the man and his work ethic.
“I’ll call him now, Jason.”
Billy Joe made the radio call, which went to a P25 trunk, which relayed the transmission onto another frequency, which was received on a base trunk, which then caused a short series of bird sounds on the hand-held unit sitting on an ad-hoc electronics work bench. Mike reached for the radio.
“So what we puttin these light posts here for?”
“Distraction, diversion.”
Billy Joe shrugged at, another, terse answer as he backed his tractor with the three-point post hole digger up to the marked spot. Jason hefted bags of Quikrete from the pick-up truck bed, dumping them adjacent to the holes being dug/drilled.
“The three trunks configured?”
“They are. Jason, We could also do a...”
“Coverage tests are complete?”
“Yes, like I was saying...”
“I cannot get more than one hop with this radio. Your tests are not complete.”
“Uh ... let me see your radio...”
“No. Re-program all units by 2400 and repeat coverage tests.”
Jason Thorns abruptly walked away from Mike and Billy Joe to climb the third pole and attach various lights and electronic gear. Mike and Billy Joe exchanged rolled eyes before returning to their tasks.
27 August 2004
“Lydia wants to know why she can’t get hold of Mike.”
“I dunno, babe. Ask Robert or Henry.”
“I did. They won’t provide contact info without yours or Benny’s approval.”
“Yeah? I’m sure they gotta a good reason. Why does she need to talk to Mike?”
“You didn’t know that Lydia has an attraction for Mike?”
“Nope, but I got an attraction for you, babe.
“Stop it. Hands off. People will see ... Seriously, sweety. Lydia has a serious crush on our young engineer.”
“So? That’s their thing to work out ... What did Benny say about your currency and real estate spread report?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Hmmm, that is interesting. Yes, most interesting.’ Then he walked away. So you know what that means, baby.”
“Yep, Benny is gonna be burning the midnight oil again and Andrea is gonna blame me.”
Cambridge, Ma -- 6:45 AM, 07 September 2004
Robert, Henry, Benny, and Harry sat on the steps of Harry’s rowhouse. Benny and Harry were drinking their traditional early-morning project-success beer, while Henry was nursing coffee. Their conversation was interrupted when Doris declared that the bar was closed and to come inside, hoping to abate further talk of the economy and math. Regardless of her efforts, the four men carried the conversation inside.
Robert’s follow-up question was not expected.
“Benny, yourself and Harry seem to form a closed loop. An idea crosses from one to the other, then the other devises an action based on the idea, which results in yet another idea. A virtual example of perpetual motion?”
Harry lightly laughed at the idea, but said nothing in reply, due to increasing fatigue from two arduous weeks. Benny gave no indication of finally winding down from the previous days of non-stop work. Benny built on the Robert’s concept of an ‘idea-loop’.
“Doris, building on what Robert said about our feed-back loop of ideas, you had made it a point to note that the BLS numbers are not always coincident with the fed governors’ projections. Can you or Harry provide an economic rationale?”
Harry’s only response was a long yawn. He was too tired to get into a 7:00 AM discussion of trend contradictions. All he knew was that Benny had accepted a half percent currency margin on the Euro, cashed out, then turned the money around to buy out the two REITs that had been identified by various computational feats.
Benny was not an economist, but he saw the mess brewing in southwest Asia and Africa. More specifically, Iraq was on the edge of civil war, which would throw the mid-east into (worse) turmoil. Benny watched the news, so he knew that things were getting worse in Iraq, while the Afghan problems continued. He wanted to be poised to act on any resultant economic chaos.
The worst of it, at least for Harry, was that Benny was full of congratulations for Doris’s report and Harry’s supposed ‘insights’ into the labor market per the longer term real estate indices. Harry was too tired to remember what particular conversations had inspired Benny’s radical changes to the feedback loops. Harry only wanted to hear a bedtime story from Doris, and Doris knew her husband needed down-time.
“You boys shut up. Baby, go to bed ... Harrison, now!”
Harry trudged up the stairs, actually pleased that his wife had ordered him to bed.
Benny, Harry, and Robert returned to the front steps to watch the new day develop, while Doris and Andrea remained inside.
“How do you keep up with that man?”
“Are you serious, Dory? I don’t even try to. Benny is the most driven person I have ever known. I think that there may be times when he is trying to build a castle with a moat.”
Doris nodded an affirmation of the idea, when she caught the sight of Andrea’s left hand.
“Andrea, is there a reason that you still wear your wedding ring?”
Andrea delayed her response, not because she did not want to answer, but because she did not know the answer. But it was a good question, deserving an answer.
“I ... well, I wore it for a year or two after he died ... I guess because I still, in my heart, was married to him. Then I wore it to keep away the wolves ... Now? I don’t know ... Maybe I feel that I am married to Benny.”
“Does Benny feel the same?”
“He is fiercely loyal. And you have seen how Benny is protective of Lizzy. Does he feel ‘married’? Já nao sei ... uh, I don’t even know what marriage means anymore. A way of thinking, a ... I really can’t say.”
Doris smiled at her friend’s philosophical misgivings.
“Marriage is a state of mind more than anything. I can feel it. I can actually ‘feel’ that I am married to Harry.”
“That must be it. I feel that I belong to Benny, and that he belongs to me ... que Deus me perdoe, but I feel more of that towards Benny than ever I did to my husband ... I don’t think it makes me a bad person, but...”
“It certainly does not, dear. Think of it this way, has Benny ever been less deserving of your love and devotion than your late husband?”
“Never. But I am worried. The world is going more and more crazy. And Benny and Harry have argued about if they can ‘save’ the world. I do not like to see Benny in such despair.”
Neither Doris or Andrea had heard Benny re-enter, in search of another beer.
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