Chapter 10

Ian's comments gave my mind more fodder. Perhaps some quiet time on Everett Mountain with my bunnies is in order. The slow climb up the incline to the cabin in the Suburban always brings a good feeling. There have been some rocky times on the mountain but the good times and feelings far outweigh the bad. Now in the cabin, with a fresh coffee in hand, my mind goes through the events of the last week. The good news is Ryley is safe! That successful mission was the pinnacle of our success. A number of perps are no longer with us, more good news.

CHBF Corp. Security agents are still on patrol at 'Randi Rabbits Corp'. I plan to leave them in place for another week and then call Randi; she may want to end the service. I am just about to brew my second cup of coffee, when my cell goes off. It is Mckenzi.

"Don, some good news, I have a den mother lined up for your new residence for the 'Action Center' people. Her name is Ghazaleh Etelal, she goes by Haza."

I am still trying to get my tongue around the name. My lack of comments must have triggered my unasked question to Mckenzi.

"She is an American of Arabic decent. She was an Emergency Room Nurse, recently discharged, and was a bit disoriented when she first hit the street; but, after a couple of weeks at my female 'Vet Help Center', she is ready for action. A large point in her favor is that she is an excellent cook."

"Mckenzi, if you have that much confidence in her, she has the job; if she requires anything, you know where the money is. There are a number of people working on the new residence now; I'm not sure where it stands. Robin Myers, who assisted furnishing your building, the disabled vets building and the Action Center, is working with Peanut's assistants to furnish the building. If possible, now would be a good time to have Haza visit the house; her, and your input would be greatly appreciated."

"I will talk to her and I am sure she will want to see her new digs on Powell Street."

"Mckenzi, please have Haza take a look at the kitchen and make any suggestions of items she may require. As you know, money is not a problem."

That last call was more good news; but, there is still some bad news rattling around in my mind: that prick Colin Dow's name still keeps popping up; I need more info on him. Peanut and his crew can scour the net and maybe my buddy, Len Porter, at the Abbotsville Times has a dossier on him he would be willing to share; won't hurt to ask.

"Abbotsville Times."

"May I speak to Len Porter, please?"

"One moment."

"Porter!"

"Hello Len, its Don Johnson."

"Hello Don, haven't heard from you in a bit. Thanks for those news tips!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Thanks anyway for the items you don't know what I am talking about; they gave me a gold mine in topics for articles, but that isn't why you called, is it?"

"Actually, I would like some information on a Colin Dow. I am assuming you have a file of some sort on him."

"I would ask you why you want it, but I know you will not be forthcoming! What is your email addy?"

Giving it to him, he advises me to check my email, when I can, for he is forwarding his file on Dow, even as we speak. Then he remarks.

"Give me first dibs on anything that may happen, that involves Mr. Dow that is newsworthy!"

"I know not of what you speak!"

"Have a good day, Don. Oh, one last thing, you're so full of shit!"

The line went dead. My next call is to my friendly detective.

I always enjoy calling the excitable Detective Ray Twayne.

"Detective Twayne, please."

"Twayne here."

"You sound refreshed, Detective Twayne; had a good night's sleep?"

"What did I do to deserve this? I haven't even had my first coffee and it is you on the line! Are you going to tell me something to ruin my day or do you want something?"

"Let's just say we can have an exchange of ideas. The last time we chatted, you mentioned a one Colin Dow. What I would love to receive from you is his complete dossier. He has turned up on my radar a couple of times."

"If I recall correctly, everyone we have discussed in the past has disappeared without a trace, not that I am complaining; but, is just seems odd, don't you think?"

"I am not sure I follow. I am just a simple Vet, trying to get by on my very small pension; but, for some reason, people ask me for assistance from time to time and I try to help."

"And why is Colin Dow on your list?"

"His path has crossed a few of my associates; I would like to know more about him."

"We don't have much. As I mentioned, last time we had one of our one-sided chats, it appears that he came out on top of what was left of the Riggs's criminal empire and that wasn't much, since all of his properties ended up at CHBF Corp. I did check it out and all of the titles were transferred legally; it is seems the sale, or whatever it was, took place just before Riggs disappeared. We have yet to trace the financial transactions for the purchases. And all of our efforts to locate Riggs have come up with naught!"

The thought 'Good luck on that search' ran through my mind.

"And you are telling me this why?"

"CHBF Corp. lawyer, Leo Haley, isn't much help; he keeps bringing up lawyer-client privileges and won't confirm anything; but, the properties changed hands legally."

"News to me!"

"I doubt that! I suspect that you are CHBF Corp."

"Ray, you should change your medications, you are having delusions. Will you provide me with your file?"

"What is your email address?"

Perhaps with the information from both Ray and Len, it will give CHBF Corp. Security Division (Peanut and his girls) some insight as to who Colin Dow really is! There is no doubt in my mind that our paths will cross again. My cell beeps, it is Jake.

"Don, are you coming to the center?"

"Yes, something going on?"

"There is a surveillance team watching our comings and goings. If they are supposed to be incognito, they are failing."

"Some of Wellington's military people?"

"That is my guess; black Ford Crown Vic, small hubcaps, no adornments, poor fitting suits, shitty haircuts; yes, Military!"

"Just leave them be till I get there."

"Will do."

We expected follow-up from the General. I have no idea what he actually thinks he is going to accomplish. My group of ready warriors will happily take his group on a wild goose chase to nowhere. Currently, the only thing we are involved with is Randi Rabbit Corp. and that assignment could end. We still have a couple of teams on Ryley's house, along with the military; we are not expecting anything, but since we have the manpower, we use it. Besides, the guys enjoy it.

Pulling up to the Action Center, I see that the black Crown Vic is across the street. The two passengers have newspapers in their hands, but their heads keep shifting my way. Hell, General, if you can't do better than those two, you do have a major problem. Now in the Center, I locate the cook.

"Fran, would you make up a tray of coffee, and a couple of your special donuts, and deliver it across the street to the Crown Vic. Tell them it is more comfortable at one of your tables in the kitchen than in their car. They can survey us from in here."

Fran has a smile on his face, grabs a tray, loads it, puts on a fresh chef's hat and walks across the street. He taps on the window: first, they try to ignore him; that doesn't work and he taps continuously until the window is rolled down. There is a short discussion, they accept the tray, and then Fran comes back.

"They are two greenhorns, they may come over."

"Thanks Fran let me know if anything happens."

Peanut is at his console, fingers flying on the keyboard. He notices me and stops.

"Need something, Don?"

"Everything you can dig up on Colin Dow, from his public school years to the present; then, cross reference any of his friends to locate any connection to possible perps with terrorist connections. I believe our paths are going to cross sooner than later. Please follow-up on anything that looks suspicious. I will forward files on him from my detective friend and the newspaper, hopefully it will give you some leads."

"Will do, I am still checking on the perps from the attempted kidnapping at the park. It gives me and the girls something to do."

"Anything of interest?"

"Not yet, but we will continue to look. Will let you know what we dig up on Dow."

Time to give General Craig Wellington a call; might as well rattle his chain about the surveillance.

"General Wellington's Office."

It is the pissant; I will never forget that whiny voice.

"Don Johnson, I wish to speak to the general."

There is a pause, where I am sure he is going to give me the standard line that the General isn't available and I should call of an appointment, but he must of had an epiphany.

"Please hold, I will see if the General is available, Mr. Johnson."

At least there is no shitty music in the background.

"General Wellington."

"General, it is Don Johnson."

"Hello Don! To what do I owe the honor?"

"Curious as to why you have two of your men watching the Action Center. Are they there to protect us or scare us?"

Generals are not good at accepting questions about their plans or actions. I am sure there is rubber burning as he is trying to hold his temper at me daring to question his actions. However, he holds his cool.

"Why would you say that? I wasn't aware of any surveillance!"

"General, I suggest you talk to your intelligence officer. If you want to know what we are doing, just call me or Jake Chambers; we are not the enemy."

"I will take that under advisement Don, anything else?"

"No, hope all is well with Ryley, no nightmares and all."

"She is well, and you know that, you are still doing surveillance on the street."

"True, never attempted to hide it. We still have concerns about the kidnapping."

"Concerns?"

"We have yet to uncover who was behind the kidnapping and why it happened. We, at the center, consider that a priority; it happened for a reason and my group is concerned it may happen again."

"Your group?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Everyone at the Action Center is ex-military from many different branches of the service: they may be discharged; but, I can assure you their minds are very active, as the rescue of your granddaughter will attest. Do not underestimate us or our abilities!"

"You cannot interfere with a military exercise."

"What exercise? Your surveillance team at the Action Center? I am curious, who signed those orders? Under what pretext? Who can clarify this? Are you suggesting I am under investigation?"

The general is having a pregnant pause; he has to be biting his tongue, what with me questioning him in an aggressive tone.

"If we have nothing else to discuss, I will leave it at that."

"You didn't answer my questions, General. Why is the Action Center, and myself, under surveillance?"

"I will have to get back to you on that."

"I will await your call."

If I didn't know better, it sounds like he slammed the telephone in its cradle. Destruction of military property ... isn't there a law against that?

Ian's contacts may be able to determine what is going on. He and his group are sitting at the desk in front of Peanut's crew; there is an ongoing discussion: Colin Dow!

"Ian, can I have a word with you?"

Ian excuses himself from the group, grabs a chair, and sits in front of me.

"Problem?"

"General Wellington is snooping around; he has, or had, two dummies doing surveillance of the Action Center and perhaps me. Is it possible for you to contact your friends in his ranks and attempt to get a heads-up on what the hell he is up to?"

A smile floods Ian's face.

"General Wellington is so full of himself, he likely sees you as a threat. Why? I have no idea, but I will check."

This could be serious in the extent that I am a lowly ex-military and Wellington has the breadth of the military at his command. It wouldn't hurt to solicit some support. Over the years, while in the service, I was personally thanked by a Brigadier General Rowan, three times over a five-year period, for saving a number of men under his command. Each time he mentioned that his command was in my debt and I could call on him when in need. While in the service, that was something I never did. In my role as a sniper, I did not do anything to call attention to myself. That is one endeavor I was very good at. However, today I am a civilian and it can't hurt to ask. Again, I look for Ian. If anyone knows where Rowan is, or can find his location, it will be Ian.

"Ian!"

Ian turns around in his chair, looks at me, and then moves towards me.

"Something else, Don?"

"Yes, do you have any idea where I can get in touch with a Brigadier General Rowan?"

Again, that sly, sinister smile crosses his face.

"How do you know him?"

"Why would you ask?"

"He is kind of a maverick; not very well liked by the Generals, especially General Wellington!"

"And why would that be?"

"General Rowan is a people person, very well liked, and he supports the men around him; that pisses off the other Generals. The reason he is still around, and hasn't been discharged or cashiered, is he gets the jobs done. He should have been a full four star years ago; but, the powers that be keep diverting his promotions because he would out shine them."

"I would like to get in touch with him; perhaps he can shed some light on what the hell General Wellington is up to with his surveillance."

Now Ian's smile is more sinister.

"There is no love lost between those two, give me a couple of hours, and I will have him located and the information from General Wellington's minions."

This is getting more confusing by the minute. It is my understanding that we are the 'good guys'. The general is supposed to be looking for the 'bad guys', not trying to undermine 'the good guys'. Maybe I am wrong. Pisses me off! I need a fresh coffee.

In the kitchen are the two men from the surveillance crew. Both are very young, likely new recruits on their first or second surveillance mission, graduates of the internet spook school. Shit, I can't blame them; it is their officers that are the culprits. Then again, they could have the benefits of the same type of training; they can't find their ass with two hands.

"Hello, I am Don Johnson; you likely have a picture of me. What would you like to know?"

One spilt his coffee, the other nearly choked on a piece of donut. They both look like a deer in the headlights. God help the U. S. of A. I hope Ian can come up with some information about the location of Brigadier General Rowan. I actually feel sorry for these two.

"Enjoy your time here, you're among Veterans. If you really need to know something to take back to Wellington, just ask Jake."

As I walk away and look down the hall, Ian is coming towards me with a sheet of paper in his hands.

"Don, I have the info for you on Brigadier General Rowan, he is in the field in Utah on a training mission. It may be difficult to contact him."

"Thanks Ian, it will be a start. Do you know anything about our surveillance team?"

"Yep, they like coffee and Cookie's donuts. Their mission, if you can call it that, is to keep tabs on the Action Center and note your comings and goings, what you are driving, who is accompanying you, etc. They have no idea why. They are not intelligence agents, just two office clerks."

That doesn't help me; all it does is make for more questions. What is actually behind this? Have we been set up? We found the obvious, but I smell a rat.

"Ian, would you please accompany me outside."

Ian looks at me questionably, but does as requested. I head for my Suburban, he follows me.

"What's the problem, Don?"

"I smell a rat. Wellington knows we would spot those two dummies; what I am thinking is that they are a decoy. Can you get your group and have them do a complete reconnoitre of the area? You and your people know what to look for. There are likely other surveillance teams in the area, the real ones; find them, but don't do anything, just report back. And, if you locate them, find out how many are in each team, when they rotate, what they are driving, etc. Once we have all of that info, we will give General Wellington a surprise."

Again, that sly grin appears on Ian's face. Ian gathers his team and has a meeting; then, each one leaves the Action Center, individually. There is a plan afoot. Me? I am at a phone to attempt to contact Brigadier General Rowan. I can only assume that the number Ian gave me is a cell or satellite phone. I dial and it rings and rings. After twenty-three rings, I counted them, it is answered.

"729".

"I would like to speak to Brigadier General Rowan, please."

"Where did you get this number?"

"I would like to speak to Brigadier General Rowan, please."

"There is no one by that name here!"

"Tell him that Don Johnson would appreciate a word with him. He should remember me, I assisted his men a couple of times."

"I just told you there is no one by that name here!"

"I will wait."

There is a slight click; then, it sounds like dead air, just a faint buzz. I am timing the silence. Sixty-three seconds later I hear.

"You are being transferred."

More dead air.

"Brigadier General Rowan here! Are you Don Johnson, the sniper?"

"Yes General; however, I am no longer an active sniper. I have been separated from the service, had twenty five in."

"I remember you! You, and your compatriots, saved my men three times, many years ago. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I am not really sure; I am lead to believe you know one General Wellington."

I am sure I heard a laugh.

"Our paths have crossed; we usually don't see eye to eye, but he has the rank. What can I do for you?"

"Are you aware of the kidnapping?"

"Ryley?"

"Yes, my group was responsible for the rescue."

"Your group?"

"Yes, a number of Vets have formed a security unit; the group was instrumental in the rescue."

"That was good work, but what can I do for you?"

"Wellington is up to something; he has our building under surveillance and I would like to get a heads-up as to what the hell he is doing."

"And you think I can help?"

"Rumor has it that you may help, just to tweak the General and his staff."

"What is your number?"

I give him my cell and office number, plus my email address.

"Leave it with me. I will try and get back to you today, but if you don't hear from me by six, it will mean that I am in the midst of an exercise. I will have someone contact you. Keep me in the loop; anything concerning Wellington has my interest."

I am sure I heard a sly laugh; but, I am now listening to dead air. Our two guests are now talking to a couple of my men, all have coffee. I hope that my two men are giving the other two a lot of crap to pass on to the General.

Now in the office section, most of the desks are full; heated discussions are going on. Peanut notices me and waves me to the back.

"Something new?"

"I believe so, Jylisa has been reviewing all of the videos, from the drone and all of Ian men's cell phones, and I think she may have found something. Three of the pictures are from Dapper Dan's parking lot."

"And?"

"In four of the frames we can make out a black SUV, a Ford Explorer, and the current year. We have a partial plate and our plate search brought up four possible owners. The one of interest is Panel Corporation from Austin, Texas."

We have a connection between the perps in the park at the birthday party and Dapper Dan's. It can't be a coincident.

"Any pictures of the driver or passengers?"

"One, it is not clear; but, you can see a passenger and a driver."

I can't make out the driver, but the passenger is Colin Dow. We really have a connection now between him, the terrorist and the kidnapping. The hair on the back of my neck stiffens: my blood pressure is rising. I am going to nail that bastard!

"The passenger is Colin Dow. How is the SUV in Panel Corp's name? When we searched the Corp., it showed no assets but the credit card."

"It could have been an outright purchase, and the dealership just produced the title in the name given from the purchase order. If the funds were from a confirmed bank draft of the amount, they could have had it registered in the name of Joe Shit; the odds are the insurance was prepaid for the unit, likely a blanket endorsement for all vehicles in Panel Corp.'s name. Peanut, please run down anything you can get on the purchase."

I really need to see one of my girls, I need some quiet time. And what is better than snuggling up to a nice, soft tummy! But that is not to be, just yet; Ian is looking for me.

"Don, we have something."

"What?"

"There are three teams surveying us. Follow me, don't look out and up; just gradually drift to the window with your coffee in hand."

I do as I am told.

"Slowly look across the street while taking a swig of coffee. You will notice, what appears to be, an abandon building two blocks from here; on the third floor, there is a team of five and I am assuming it is Wellington's intelligence people. The kids in the kitchen were a decoy, just as we thought. The empty building is an old furniture factory on Bee Ave. I sent a unit to get the building number."

"Ian, move away from the window. I think I have a plan to embarrass our friendly general. Where is Skip?"

"Last time I saw him he was in the kitchen filling his face."

Skip is at a table, but his mind is somewhere else; his face is blank, lost in thought.

"Skip."

"What do you want, Don?"

"I need your council, assuming you are able."

I get the international salute.

"What are you into now?"

"We have three teams of surveillance people watching the Action Center, likely from the intelligence units of our loving General. I want to give one of them a surprise. Do you have any ordnance left, black powder in particular?"

"There is one barrel left, forty pounds."

"More than enough! Come with me, I want to talk to Ian."

The three of us are at a desk as I divulge my sinister plan.

"Ian, can you get a picture of the group in the building without causing suspicion? What I would like is a pic showing the barrels of the rifles they are holding that are aimed at the Action Center. What they are actually doing is using the scopes of the sniper rifles to keep tabs on us, but anyone seeing the barrels will think the worst. Then I need one of your men to infiltrate the building, the bottom floor, with the barrel of black powder with a programmed igniter placed in it. Here is my idea: The picture, of the men with their rifles pointing downwards, we will send to the police with a panic call of terrorists from a concerned citizen. The police will respond quickly, they can't take a chance after the rumors about the kidnapping of Ryley by possible terrorists; they will follow up quickly, perhaps with a SWAT team. Ian, you will have your men placed all around the building area; when the team spots the police entering the building, we will ignite the black powder, making a helluva lot of noise and bellows of smoke. The police will call for back up. While all of this is playing out, the General's team will have no means to leave the building and will have to explain to the police what the hell they are doing there. And just to help matters, I will call Len Porter to have his crew, and the TV camera crews, at the scene."

Skip looks at me.

"You are one devious son of a bitch, Don. The General will be furious."

"Fuck him! He should be looking for terrorists, not watching us. But we will give him something to think about!"

One of Ian's men rounded up a dog from somewhere and went for a walk. He slowly walked the open area in front of the abandoned building with the dog. The big dog liked to chase a stick. While doing the throwing, the agent continually took pictures of the third floor windows with his cell phone. Twenty minutes later, he returned to the center and gave Ian his cell. Ian handed off the cell to Peanut, and is now in a conversation with him. I head for the coffee machine.

Nearly an hour later, Ian is looking for me.

"Don, I think this is what we need. And we have the building number: 493."

It is a picture showing three men with their rifles in a firing position, their eyes glued to the scopes. I knew what they were doing but anyone looking at the pictures would assume they were aiming at something or someone. All they are doing is watching the comings and goings of the men at the center. We now have an incriminating photo.

"Great Ian! Now I need a couple of your men to plant the black powder in an area within the building that can be secured. The last thing we need is any injuries. Have them take a few new locks with them and some chain. Make sure everything is fingerprint free and that they wear gloves. Let me know when they return."

The plan is in motion. I locate Peanut.

"Peanut, I need you to get this picture to the police department in such a way that it can't be traced back to us."

"It can be done. When do you want it sent?"

"I will let you know, likely within the hour. Is Kourtney here?"

"Yes, she and Jylisa are in the kitchen."

"I want her to make the call to 'Tips' and give them the info that she saw some terrorists with rifles on the third floor of 493 Bee Street. I'll talk to her."

Both are in the kitchen enjoying a donut and coffee. They stop their conversation when they see me.

"Kourtney, I need you to do a job for me."

Both are looking at me with expectation. I explain the plan to them; both break out in a smile as they are aware of the love between me and the General: NOT! Kourtney is all for it and will be available.

Ian is coming towards me; two of his men are following him.

"Don, the charge is in place; the room is solid cement, with five large windows, all barred facing a vacate field. My men chained the door. It will take a small charge or burners to get into the room."

"Good work! We are nearly there. Are your men in position to monitor the police?"

"Yes, I have six units covering the intersections."

I run it through my mind: Get the picture to the police department, via Peanut; have Kourtney make a panic call to the police to report her suspicions; and call Len Porter to give him a heads-up. I will do that right now.

"Len Porter, please."

"Porter."

"Hi Len, are you up for a drive?"

He didn't ask me questions; he knows there would be no answers.

"Where?"

"493 Bee Street; bring a couple of camera crews and a television crew, it could be interesting."

I am now listening to a dead line.

I walk to Peanut's desk.

"Now Peanut!"

His fingers fly across the keyboard; then, he looks at me and nods done!

"Kourtney, make the call."

I watch her dial the 'Tips' line.

"There are people with big guns at 493 Bee Street on the top floor! I saw them aiming at somebody; I sent a picture of them to you. Send some police, please!"

We have started the cycle of confusion. So far so good, but I have one more thing to do. I walk to the outside entrance of the center, stand at the front door, look at the building on Bee Street, and slowly raise my finger in the famous salute. I hope they send a copy to the General.

In the background, the howl of several sirens is getting louder; Ian is beside me with a switch in his hand. He is listening to his men via an earpiece. Then we hear the explosion of the black powder; even at this distance, we can see the black and white smoke rise.

There is a smile on my face, as I think, 'explain your way out of this, General'. In the next half hour Ian's men return, their reports are the same. The police approached the building, then the explosion! The police halted their advance, and two SWAT teams showed up and approached the building in full gear. Len Porter and his crew were there filming everything. I will be watching the evening news tonight. An hour later, the SWAT team lead five handcuffed men to waiting paddy wagons; other SWAT members followed carrying the surveillance team's weapons and equipment. So far, it has been a great day!

I really need some R & R; but, will it be Jayden at the cottage or Teagan at her home? Decisions, decisions! I call Jayden.

"Uncle Don! Where are you?"

I hate call display.

"I am going to the cottage."

"You want some company?"

"Oh, I do Jayden, are you able? Where is your mom?"

"She is working a double; a local team is having its annual trophy night. I can be ready in twenty minutes."