Chapter 63

That's how I wound up as a hostess at an illegal drink house. It opened at 9PM and closed at 3AM unless there was a crowd. If that was the case it might go till sun up. It didn't take me long to get well known. I did my thing and a little of their thing, but I did manage to remember who I was.

I was collecting information the whole time on the guys who came to the house. Most of them were involved in some kind of petty crime or another. Even though it was petty, the pure volume was significant. I kept a file of everything I learned. Then every couple of days, I made a dead drop to the local Sheriff. We did it as carefully as I could manage. I had no idea how secure the sheriff's man were.

It took only a week to begin to miss my old life. Hell I even missed the bike rides out to the lake. In Stoneville, I was back to running and hour a day. Yes that was significantly more than it had been at home. I wasn't getting as much exercise on the job here as I did back home either.

After only two weeks of slinging drinks I met a member of the distribution network. He had heard of me from the club owner. "You are Karen Smith?" he asked.

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" I asked not quite sure who he was.

"I can do something for you. I heard you are a real piece of work. Is that true?" he asked.

"Depends on what you mean by that. I can take care of myself, but I'm no killer, even though I have killed men." I said.

"They tell me you were in the sandbox. Everybody who was there was a stone killer according to them," he said.

"Not true. The ones I knew would tell you that they fired at a position along with about ten other people. You can't tell who actually killed someone unless you are looking right at him when he falls over and that doesn't happen very often." I said.

"So you are a truck driver, why are you hustling drinks in this joint?" he asked.

"Hustling drinks here gets me in the right place to meet the people who can get me driving the trucks again." I replied.

"Well my name is Barry, and I'm the guy to give you a job driving, but only if I'm convinced you won't jump and tun off at the first sign of trouble, leaving my product to the cops." he said.

"Well that's a decision for you to make. I know what I will do, you are just going to be guessing. But if the cops stop me by accident, I doubt they would be a skeptical as they would be of a redneck behind the wheel. It's a lot about appearances. If they get to looking, the cops will get your product anyway. So sometimes it's subterfuge and sometime it's horse power." I said.

He just nodded, then said, "So do you want the job?"

"If the pay is right you know I do," I replied.

"I'm sure it will be more than you've ever made before. You drive when I tell you and do what I tell you," he said.

"More money than I ever made is how much?" I asked.

"I can pay you a grand a week, but it's a lot of runs for that," he said.

"As long as I'm not carrying nukes for it, I can handle it," I said.

"Can't promise, but we haven't carried one of those yet. So go over and put your tray on the bar and let's go. You can start by driving me around tonight." he said.

There was very little doubt in my head that there would be sex of some kind involved in the interview process, "Fair enough," I said.

I took him from the small town of Stoneville to the very large town of Charlotte. It was a parking garage across from the airport, where I made my first stop. He directed me to a mid sized American made pickup truck. "That's your truck. I'm going to stay here and you are going to take that truck and go get a load of product. You will off load the product at another location. Then the truck and you go back to Stoneville. I'll call you tomorrow with another pickup. Do you understand?" he asked as he handed me a burn phone.

"Yes, is there a gps system in the truck?" I asked.

"Yes, so I'll just give you the address for the pick up and delivery and you take care of the rest," he informed me.

"I got it," I said.

He handed me the note with the address. "When you make the delivery get rid of the note, you won't need it again." The information about future pickups was intentionally vague. He wanted to see how I worked out before he gave me too much information. I determined from it that he was a lower level operative. It was okay, one had to start somewhere.

The trucks registration was made out to a lease company. I also had the paperwork to the lease in the folder and it was blank. I assumed that it was counterfeit, since it could be made out in anyone's name. I filled it in with my own name and drivers license number. Well not my own, I used the fake identity we had set up. When I was sure I had papers that would pass a quick inspection, I opened the note from Barry.

The drive sent me to a small community in the mountains even more remote than County Seat. There was a dead drop set up for me along a county road. The drop wasn't in Warren Country, so the information on that one would ultimately go to their local Sheriff one day.