Chapter 31

“So Sarge, you aren’t the ‘Fixer’ from the book by Tasha Gold” the woman sitting across from me asked again.

“Not only that, I never heard of the person to whom you are referring. I never met the author, so I don’t see how a character could be based on me. I certainly never worked for th CIA, or any other secret government agency. I am just a retired Sergeant from the United States Air Force. I do some security consulting, which is what this interview is supposed to be about,” I explained.

“Well we got an email with a copy of this E-book attached last night. The cover email suggested that the Eddie Somerfield character was based on your life,” Betty suggested. “You have to admit there are similarities with your background.”

“Like I said Betty, I’m not familiar with the book or the characters in it. I would have to read it to comment. Since I have not read it, I can’t make an intelligent comment. Now could we get back to the real reason I agreed to do this interview.”

Betty Boobs had ambushed me again. The rest of the interview went as expected. I told the story about the hostage negotiation and even my second project. I explained that the funding came almost entirely from private donations.

“I have nothing to do with fund raising. I’m just a hired hand. My total background is with the United States Air Force’s security force. You know standing guard on the flight line. Nothing of any interest there,” I explained.

Betty forced me to deny everything again at the end of the interview, I was forced to deny emphatically that I had any knowledge of the Fixer. Which was true, Tasha never told me she was writing a novel. I had no idea what was in the novel, since I hadn’t read it. Betty Boobs had given me a card with the books web address on it.

I decided to Read the Fixer over the weekend. Since there was nothing I could do for Lamar until the DEA got back in touch with me. I had a feeling that the DEA would like to know that someone had dosed a local black man with?scopolamine. The FBI would surely be interested that the black man in question, under that influence, had robbed a local bank. Then calmly gone home to sleep it off. Could I prove it? Not at that moment. It was my plan to check it out. I needed the DEA to give me a name. Did I expect them to, no.

When I got home, I called the number I had for Lucy2. Her message advised me she was on vacation and might not return for a couple of weeks. I decided that she probably didn’t know about the fixer. She would have no reason to keep that information from me.

Tiger made two trips downtown. Even on Saturday, Siler City’s downtown was quiet. Tiger pretty much had the run of the city. I had no idea where he went, but he had grown larger, even in the last two weeks. He was still clumsy, but he was also curious. He was big for his age, less than a year, according to the vet.

He didn’t stay at home much, but he did stay mostly on our block, which seemed to be a good thing.

By Monday the case of the Devil’s Breath bank robbery became very public. The FBI launched a propaganda campaign of their own during that week. They were afraid it would become a defense ploy every time they had a rookie bank robber. They for sure didn’t want that, since they feared that juries would tend to be sympathetic. Since it could happen to anyone a juror might decide not to convict.

The DEA wanted to downplay it, since the idea of a real Devil’s Breath scared the shit out of everyone. Their political arm pretty much just wanted SJL to go the fuck away.

Addie wanted to negotiate a settlement which would get Lamar out of jail as soon as possible. She went into the negotiations with the Gmen, the Dmen, and the local DA demanding Lamar’s immediate, unconditional release.

As for Bitsy, John, and I, we pretty much just laid low. Everyone in the office was offered the week off with pay. To me the week off with pay was no incentive, since I didn’t get paid. I made several follow up statements, even though Addie was in charge of legal talk press releases.

I got the feeling that Mason wanted me gone. He knew for sure that I was looking into the fund raising, and where the money was going. I didn’t try to recruit Bitsy or John John for that. I didn’t want them losing their jobs, or the risks of the facts being twisted to save their jobs.

The reason was simple, Not only did I want them to stay employed, I also didn’t want them to get the reputation of not respecting authority. It would for sure kill their chances for further good jobs. Corporate America tended to want team players.

All day Monday I spent inside the double secret encrypted files of the SJL. Tuesday was another boring day doing the same thing. By 3PM I was considering suicide. Instead I went outside to my quiet place and called Martin.

“Hey, if it ain’t the fixer,” Martin suggested.

“I told the world Sunday morning that I am not the fixer,” I demanded.

“Don’t be such a downer. Us defense contractors need heroes as well as everybody else. Man you are bigger than life these days.” Martin answered.

“I’m calling because I need help.” I said. For the next ten minutes I explained my thinking.

“So, why do you care?” he suggested.

“I wouldn’t if they were scamming Bill Gates, or one of the other Billionaires. These guys are going after people who have almost nothing to begin with. Their telemarketing and direct mail campaigns are shameful. I am just not good enough with the computer to prove it.

“I can’t afford to help you, but I know a few guys who owe me a favor. Maybe I can cut you some slack, but it’s going to cost you,” He demanded.

“I am not giving you the Spa,” I told him.

“I’ll give you the 300K, but you include management services for a year. After that we can renegotiate, if both of us are agreeable.”

“I’m hearing that renegotiate shit a lot recently. Okay you got a deal,” I agreed.

“You will be hearing from someone. The handshake will be Nevada.” Martin suggested going all James Bond on me.

“Roger that,” I agreed.

After that I left for home. I got home before five and found Tiger gone. I got the bike ready for my long afternoon ride. Tiger was still a puppy all full of energy. It was enough for a short burst, but he wasn’t up to a long haul, even behind a bike with no gears.

When I returned over an hour later, Tiger was pissed. I ignored him as I fixed our dinner. He had a Lamb and rice stew mixed with kibble. I had a beef pot pie mixed with some microwaved French fries yum, yum.

When I looked at the two bowls of food, I was tempted to swap. I didn’t want to deprive him of the nutrition in his dinner, so I didn’t give in to the temptation.

Sometime over the weekend he had decided that what was mine was also his. Including the bed I slept on. I considered claiming his chew toys, but decided he wouldn’t care. He preferred the old rubber flip flops I had laying around. The shoes I wore to the office, I kept on a shelf out of his reach. The shoes I wore were hiking shoes, except the fasteners were ‘old man’ Velcro. I wasn’t so vain that it made a difference to me. I really didn’t mind the clunky old man look.

I didn’t even mind the wild hair of a homeless old man, but Addie hated it. She went out and bought an electric clipper. I went from a homeless old man, to an old retired sergeant in twenty minutes. She did it at my house on Sunday morning. She also tried to pick my brain about the money trail. At the time of the last crew cut, I hadn’t spoken to Martin. So there was nothing to tell.

During the week while Addie negotiated with the feds and the local DA, Martin’s expert was working on the finances of the SJL. It turned out to be encrypted better than anyone had expected. I was on my last three days when I got an email from Nevada Smith.

‘We got them. Their pitch tugs at the heart strings of little old ladies and racist. It is pretty disgusting to a us conservatives. But here read the facts and figures for yourself. Page one is my summery.’ the email said.

I drove straight to Office Depot in Raleigh and had five copies made. The reports and the evidence backing up, as well as Nevada’s conclusions half filled an empty copy paper box. I made sure to carry my .22mag inside when I went in and dumped a copy onto Mason’s desk.

He took the time to carefully read the summary. “Where did you get this? You committed a crime didn’t you?”

“Who me?” I asked. “I found it in my email this morning. I did have five paper copies made. They are headed for the chairman, Betty Boobs at the TV station, and one to Addie. And two others I sent snail mail as well.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Aren’t you even going to try to justify it?” I asked. “You know, now would be a great time for the ends justify the means speech.”

“Bullshit, it’s just business. I’m a fund raiser, It’s what I do,” he explained.

“Well it’s nice to see you realize the end when you see it,” I said.

“Let’s say it’s the end for someone for sure,” he acknowledged.

“That is true. My consulting contract ends today. This is my last chance to do it. That is unless there is an accident to prevent me exposing you.”

“I don’t think the chairman will renew your contract,” Mason said confidently.

“You are living in a dream. Your boiler room operation is expensive. With all the publicity I can create you guys are unnecessary. I’m told that SJL can do almost as well with a simple ‘go fund me’ page. That is as long as the publicity faucet keeps running.”

“Yeah you are a hot item now, but you will fade with time,” he informed me.

“Yes, but in the mean time I can kill your operation in the press. Here is how I figure it. You can quit without the nasty press. Take your operation with you. Pitch your tent under someone else’s flag, and then it’s business as usual.

You also have the option of fighting me in the press. I assure you the press will crucify you, rather than me. I have no skeletons in my closet, at least none I would mind seeing in print.”

“You do know the chairman approved this operation,” Mason said.

“I know he did, but we are going to save him your cut of the donations from now on. It will help his conscience, not to mention his image. I figure he will still draw a healthy salary, and continue doing business as usual.”

“Got it all figured out don’t you,” he said. “What are they going to think about you here, when they find out you are ‘The Fixer’. You don’t think I’m going quietly.”

“Then it’s a media war. You know you can’t win. I’ll just drag out the little old black widow lady who donates ten dollars a month to your big salary. What was it again. One hundred and twenty five thousand, if memory serves me. Total cost of fund raising is right at five million bucks. This place could operate on ten percent of that.” I demanded.

“It might be easier to just kill you. We could blame it on the Russian mafia. They weren’t happy about losing the General, I’m told,” Mason whispered.

“Say that a little louder for the tape,” I said holding up my phone.

He tried to open his desk drawer. I retrieved the .22 mag revolver from inside the cardboard liner of the cargo pocket pants. I was a tenth of a second faster. It was enough to have killed him, if I chosen to do so.

“Some days nothing works out the way you expect,” I suggested as I walked around to recover his pistol. “You do know you aren’t nearly good enough to be playing with these things. You will find this somewhere in the haw river. Unless you would like me to turn it into the police. If I do that, you can get it back in a couple of weeks after they test it.”

“My choice is the Haw River. I have no idea who owned that before I bought it at a gun show,” Mason said. It was exactly the right answer and we both knew it.

“Addie, call your friend the chairman. Advise him that I won’t be renewing my contract. I will accept his personal check made out to me for five grand. He can call it a house cleaning fee,” I demanded.

He should know by that time that he had avoided being fucked along with Mason. He still needed someone to operate the business, and I hoped that someone would be Addie. I had a feeling she would watch the in and out of the money like a hawk.

I slipped her a copy of the report on my way out the door. Her copy of the report had a second cover page. It explained how to cash in on the ‘go fund me’ idea. I didn’t write the plan, I stole it from the net.

My one regret was the company car. I hated to give the car back. John John rode down to Siler City to drive it back. I watched it pull out of the parking lot almost with a tear in my eye.

“Oh well, it’s back to us against the world,” I said to Tiger when he ran into the yard of the lock shop house. I went into the storage building after a quick stop into the house to recover the exterior extension cord. Once I had power restored to the storage building, I plugged in the battery charger. It was time to prep the mountain electric assist bike.

While I worked on the bike I came up with a new idea. I could build Tiger a trailer to ride around with me. I had a trailer which I could rig to the folder, but it would be hard work to pull it around. The newest idea was to build a second trailer for the assisted mountain bike.

I spent the next two days scrounging left over bed frame metal, and the wheels off a kid’s 12.5 inch bike. I finished assembling it the second day, then took it on a test drive without Tiger. It pulled pretty well as long as I was careful and kept the speed down to less than 10 MPH. That was fine by me.

I didn’t plan to carry him everywhere, just some places. The first place was the caboose park. Tiger climbed out of his trailer to prowl around. He disappeared into the tree line. He would have disappeared into the tall grass earlier, but it was all brown and bent since the weather was changing. It was the first time I really noticed the season had changed.