Chapter 4

Spring Field and Jean, Nevada

STEVE – DAY FOUR - Thursday

Like Chuck, I always try to phone home when I'm away.

Today, Mercy answered. After saying how much my women loved me, she told me about our new babies – they were both doing well, but Giovanna's had started waking up in the middle of the night wanting an extra feed. Then she told me to look after Chuck – it wasn't a strong premonition, she said, but we just needed to be more careful.

Chuck had said that he was starting the day in the hotel's exercise suite, so I went down and lifted some weights - not something I'd done for some days. Chuck was there wearing his sports leg, and using the walking machine.

We finished about the same time, and went off to do our three Ss.

At breakfast, Chuck still would not talk about his odd conversation with Ben last night, despite a lot of attempts by our companions to make him explain. What could he have bought, I wondered?

When we drove up to the Spring Field admin building in our two hire cars, we found Bill talking to a smartly dressed man whom he introduced to us as Jason Goodyear, a local Realtor.

"Well!" Chuck asked, "Are you all coming?"

There was no doubt about the answer to that! Everyone quickly climbed back into the cars! Chuck had one of his shit eating grins on his face.

I was in Chuck's car, with Terrell in the back. As we drove up the road, Chuck pointed out of the window at a Realtor's sign with 'Goodyear' in large letters just outside the SF perimeter

"There you are, Terrell." He said. "You'd better get those estimates ready that Steve wants for the extensions to the runways here. We've now got the land to do it!"

Nice! I thought, but that can't be all. He would have told us about it last night if that was all...

Then we were turning off the road and following the realtor's Suburban through a gated archway, and along a paved private road which climbed for a few hundred yards up into the foothills. We soon reached the front of a really imposing, west facing mansion. The centre block had wings on either side which were slightly set back. Wow! I thought, there must be at least thirty rooms!

Three people were standing in front of the large double doors. Mr. Goodyear introduced them to Chuck as John Huff, the Estate Manager, and the other two as Senor and Senora Vasquez, the housekeepers. He explained to them that Chuck was the new owner of the Lacy Estate! This was getting better and better!

We were conducted into a wide double height entrance hall, with twin staircases looping up to the second floor above. To the left were a large lounge, a lady's drawing room, and a big library; while on the right there were a spacious dining room, a smaller breakfast room, and a pool room. He mentioned that here was a gunroom, a well-equipped gymnasium, and large indoor swimming pool beyond.

All the rooms were spotless and beautifully furnished with stuff from different periods – Ben will love this, I thought!

We were then taken up the stairs to a wide landing where long corridors led off on either side. We were shown a couple of the rooms, and Mr. Goodyear remarked that these were representative of the other 23 bedrooms, which all had ensuite facilities. At the back was another wing, which our guide said contained the kitchens and servants' quarters. Mr. Goodyear said there were twelve staff bedrooms, and added that there were extensive flower and vegetable gardens at the rear of the mansion, together with an outside heated swimming pool and four tennis courts!

As we were led outside again, Chuck thanked the two housekeepers who were now looking much happier. He told them that they kept the house beautifully.

As we stood under the arch of the imposing porch, we looked out over some parkland with mature oaks dotted here and there – it was just how I imagined the mansions up in the Virginias, I thought. The ground gently sloped down to a good sized lake, which was fed by a small river that descended from the hill above to become a cascade where it entered the lake. Mr. Huff said that there was good fishing there! Over to the left was quite a large herd of dairy cows, and by the lake, a herd of about fifty deer grazed restlessly. Mr. Huff explained that the Home Farm manager, Jake Goodman, supplied venison to some of the top San Francisco restaurants.

The Home Farm buildings were down by the river, with another good-sized block of buildings nearby, almost hidden by more trees. Mr. Huff said that this was the stable block, while the large barn up behind housed the General's collection of vintage airplanes, which were included in the deal, he added!

Judging by the expression on Chuck's face, he didn't know about these!

He asked Chuck if he wanted to see the other farms. There were another four on this side of the road, he explained with two more and the VA hostel on the other.

Chuck thanked both the Realtor and Mr. Huff for the tour, then going up to the latter, he murmured "Semper Fi" – sure enough, back came the response "Oorah!" which I echoed. The man beamed!

"I think I've seen enough for one day," remarked Chuck. "But could we please have a quick look at the hostel?"

"The VA leases the old farm house just across the road from here," John Huff explained. "They have about twelve severely disabled Vets there, I understand, and strongly discourage all visitors! But as you are their new landlord, I suppose it will be all right."

Steve laughed rather grimly.

He again thanked Mr. Goodyear, and quickly passed the large bundle of plans and keys which the realtor gave him over to Terrell.

"More work for me?" Terrell asked. Chuck just smiled.

"If Steve and John Huff here would like to come with me," he said. "I know the rest of you have a lot to do back at the airfield!"

As the group broke up, John Huff went to get his car.

"You're not happy about siomething, are you?" I asked Chuck, as we sat in his hire car waiting.

"No – I can't put my finger on it, but it concerns this hostel, I think..."

We followed the Jeep down to the road, and almost immediately turned down an unkempt, rutted track. There was a padlocked gate, which we had to climb over. I was impressed at how well Chuck managed this. Just round a corner we found a legless man in a rickety wheelchair. His face was dirty, and his clothes were really ragged and ancient. He had a bad stutter, but I think he was telling us that no visitors were allowed.

Chuck strode straight past and walked right through a door with peeling paint. Inside were seven other Vets, all with serious, but differing injuries. Most could obviously hardly move, but they were all sitting watching a TV where a blank screen just flickered.

At that moment a man with a large beer gut dressed in smart tee and jeans burst through an inner door, shouting that we weren't wanted, that it was private, and we had better get out before he took steps.

Chuck just stared at him, so he yelled over his shoulder something about getting Fred and grabbed a shotgun, that was leaning against the wall. He'd hardly started to pump the action before he was staring into the muzzle of Chuck's Glock. How he gets it out so quickly is beyond me!

This so shocked the man that he let Chuck remove his gun, turn him round so that he was facing the wall, and quickly secure his arms behind his back using a tie that Chuck produced from his pocket.

At that moment a large, grey-haired woman entered the room through the same door. She started shouting too, but Chuck pushed her into a chair and told her sharply to be quiet.

I looked at the seated Vets, and was shocked at how dirty both they and their clothes were. Chuck waved for me to check the other rooms, but first he pulled up his trouser leg and tossed me his holdout gun.

The kitchen was moderately clean, but the stench of the overcooked potatoes on the stove was almost more than I could stand. The men's lunch, I wondered?

Upstairs, there was dirt everywhere. There were five more bedridden Vets in two of the rooms; some were completely naked and all the bedding looked as if it had been on the beds for weeks. All the men were filthy, and some were just lying in their own excrement!

"You'd better have a quick look round too," I told Chuck, "This place is an absolute and utter disgrace!"

When he came back, Chuck went over to the phone handset, and dialled the number on the wall alongside the name that was labelled "Jane Brady – VA Rep".

He had hardly opened his mouth before the woman at the other end was shouting to him to get out as he had no business here!

Chuck didn't say anything more. He just cut the connection and stood there in thought for a moment. Then he got out his cell, and waved me over so that I could hear the conversation. When the person at the other end answered, Chuck calmly started.

"Hi, Charlie, Long time no see!"

"Yeah! Like yesterday, you idiot," the man answered. "What can an august FBI Regional SAC do for the Marshal's Service today?"

Chuck quickly explained everything that had happened.

"So you see," he added. "This is clearly in your jurisdiction, and I need your people out here fast. You'd better get someone over to the VA building too, and pick up this Brady woman before she does a runner!"

"Right, got that!" The FBI Chief replied. "There's a bird all warmed up on the roof at this moment, so I'll grab that and come out myself."

The call abruptly ended.

Chuck discovered from some letters that the warden's name was Mason, and began to question him, but shortly after he started, we heard a Sheriff's siren approaching.

The next thing we knew, a Deputy rushed in, shouting at us to get out quick. He totally ignored Chuck's badge, and when we didn't immediately obey his order, he reached for his gun, only to find himself staring into Chuck's Glock like the other man!

"You'd better take his gun," Chuck told me, and when the Deputy tried to stop me, Chuck just hit him on the side of his neck.

"Better cuff the fool, and use his other pair to secure Mr. Mason here properly. I suppose we'd better call the local law too."

Again consulting the list by the landline handset, he dialled another number.

"Watch Commander, please!" he asked when the call was promptly answered.

"Good Day, Lieutenant. This is Senior Federal Deputy Marshal Charles Johnson. I'm at the VA hostel on the Lacy Estate, where there is something very strange going on. I think you should get over here yourself, as I have the Warden, Mr. Mason, under arrest for threatening a Federal officer, and I've just had to restrain one of your Deputies!

"It's an FBI matter and they've been summoned; but it's on your patch and one of your officers is involved, so you need to be here to observe."

He listened for a moment, then hung up the handset.

"We obviously need to inform the local VA people," he told me. "But the problem is that we've no idea who to talk to – we don't know how high this rot extends."

He stood gazing at his cell, then punched in a number. "Hello, Doris," he began, and then quickly explained everything again, thanking her at the end.

Five minutes later, the person called back, and Chuck let me hear the conversation.

"This is Doris. To save you time, I've just spoken to my opposite number, the VA Regional Director in California. That's Bert Helpman. As you can imagine, he didn't want to believe it at first but he's coming out to you himself with some investigators. However they won't be with you for probably a couple of hours as they are in Sacramento! Good Luck!" Then she just hung up!

Chuck grinned.

"It helps to know people!" he quipped.

In a remarkably short time, an FBI helicopter was circling, before landing on the grass outside. The oldest of the four agents who climbed out just nodded to Chuck, shook my hand, saying "Hi, I'm Charlie!" before quickly looking over the whole property.

"Geeze, doesn't all this just make you want to puke!" he said, when he came back through the door five minutes later, looking just a bit white-faced. "I cannot believe that this sort of thing can happen in this country!

"You're the boss here, Chuck. How do you want to handle this?"

But before Chuck could answer, the Sheriff's Lieutenant from the local Contra Costa County Patrol station house arrived, looking very angry. However the man subsided quickly after the FBI Chief identified himself, before turning back to Chuck who was now wearing his Deputy's badge.

"Yes, Boss?"

"It's your jurisdiction and your problem," Chuck stated, "Just treat me as the new landlord here, and like you would any other witness. Burt Helpman, the VA Regional Director is on his way from Sacramento, and I think the Lieutenant here needs to call both his superiors and the County Public Health Dept. right now! I'll file my report when I get back to my office tomorrow, and in the meantime you can get me on my cell if you need me!"

"Gotcha, Boss," replied the FBI chief and started issuing orders, while the Lieutenant's eyes were just about bugging out of his head!

Chuck turned to me and a very quiet John Huff, who had been almost hiding in a corner the whole time.

"OK, you two, let's get out of this man's hair!"

After saying goodbye to a very subdued John Huff at the gate to the mansion, we returned to Spring Field.

Chuck went off saying he had some calls to make, while I stuck my head round Bill's door.

He beckoned me in, and started to report when I was seated,.

On returning to Spring Field, his first act had been to get on the phone to see what aircraft might be available for us to purchase. He had soon identified two different prospects - the first was an aircraft leasing company in St. Louis, that had only the previous day taken back possession of four Lear 60XRs and two of the latest G550s. After telling his contact about all the recent changes around here, he had registered a strong interest on behalf of CS&S with regard to all six aircraft. His friend had promised to get right back to him as soon as they had worked out the numbers.

This was really good news, I thought, but then it started to get even better!

After that, Bill explained that he had discovered a bankrupt flying school up in Denver where the Judge had five Hiller trainers and a Bell 206-L4 for disposal. After talking to the man himself, they had agreed a price conditional upon CS&S getting the aircraft off the premises within 48 hours.

Bill said he thought this was achievable, so he went off to find John and Star, who were sharing a small office in the control tower cum admin building. While John used his phone to send Chuck's card numbers to Denver, Star had called Tank and instructed him to take the CJ-4 from the sales hangar, collect three mechanics and have all the helicopters ready to ship out in the 737 freighter first thing in the morning. When John returned, he agreed to fly the big aircraft if Star would fly right seat.

After that, Bill said that he found the HR lady waiting to sign him up as an S&S employee. He had joked that although he was the first man that I had hired here, he was the last to be officially put on the payroll!

Next we went out to watch the last of the bankrupt stores, equipment, and tools being unloaded into the hangar.