Chapter 6

"Director Hudson, you do not know me. My name is Carl Fleming, and I am temporarily living in Branson, Missouri. You can see my cell number on your caller ID, and I am renting a houseboat at Table Rock Lake Vacations.

"I tell you all that Sir, to make sure you can find me should you be displeased with what I am about to disclose to you. A man named Grayson Foster owns Community Bankers Association, in Branson. Mr. Foster is a pillar in the community, and has owned the bank for many years.

What you do not know about Mr. Foster, is that he..." and I took him through the layers of corruption surrounding Foster, and the other banks he controls, which were used by the mob for laundering billions and billions of dollars in drug money, and other illicit activities.

Mr. Hudson challenged me, numerous times, on specific points, even intentionally trying to get me to trip myself up by repeating information back to me wrongly. Eventually he was convinced, and we could begin to do serious business.

"Mr. Fleming, how can you possibly be in possession of this massive amount of information? Why should the DHS and DOJ tale you at your word with such an array of illegal crime?"

"Mr. Hudson, you need do nothing more than to examine the relationship between First Arkansas Federal Bank and Colvertone Industries. Colvertone is a shell. There is no there, there when you look there. Yet, Colvertone's deposits into First Arkansas Federal were well over eight hundred million dollars in the last four months.

"Sir, if that doesn't convince you of my truthfulness, remember that I called you from my personal cell phone, and told you how to find me anytime you wish..."

"Mr. Fleming, two agents from the Springfield office are driving down to meet with you in person as we speak. I assume you are willing to talk with us and hope you understand my desire to be cautious..."

"Now let me interrupt, Mr. Hudson. Have your forensic accountant look at Colvertone while I speak with your agents. If you don't find what I told you is there, by the time they've interviewed me, you will have the answer to your question."

"My assistant tells me your next appointment has arrived and is wondering where to find you, Mr. Fleming."

"Tell them I am in the boat moored at slip number one. I am seriously injured, or I would walk out to meet them. They'll have to come on down and let themselves in. I am sitting in the salon, waiting with the phone in my hand, and all the drapes open. They should feel no sense of suspicion, or danger to themselves."

I waited for just a few seconds, then heard them coming. I dragged my bad leg behind me and opened the sliding glass doors, to let them see me, and enter without thinking I had a gun on them.

Out of an abundance of caution, one agent spoke to me, took the proffered phone and told his boss they had it from there. He began to go over the basics of who I was, and why I called, while the second walked around the boat to satisfy himself that we were the only ones there.

I waited patiently until agent number two reentered the salon and sat down.

"Mr. Fleming, it is exceedingly odd that a man of your background would accidentally have the private phone number of the Deputy Director of DHS. Let's start with that. Where did you get Mr. Hudson's number?"

"I can't tell you that because I don't know. Yesterday, my car was crushed by a tractor-trailer on I-44 in Springfield. I spent hours and hours at the hospital, in great pain, and one of the MANY people who talked to me over that time, picked my phone up off the table beside gurney and tapped that phone number into it. I suspect, as you probably do, that he had some personal animosity against the mafia and picked me out to tell his tale because I was present, and nothing more.

"Then he said, 'let me tell you a story... ' The substance of that story I repeated, as close to word for word, as possible to Mr. Hudson, while you gentlemen drove down here from Springfield. I might add that you getting down here so fast is epic. I can't imagine how you drove fifty five miles in thirty minutes..."

Agent one topped me there. "We were already in Branson on another matter and only drove over from the strip. That's why we're the ones that get to debrief you. It's strictly a matter of chance. My name is Agent Ordonez. My partner is Agent McBurney. Our boss is several layers of bureaucracy below Director Hudson, but he got our boss on this almost the second your call was placed.

"The fact that you gave Director Hudson all the necessary information to find you, goes in your favor, as far as credence. We're prepared to assume you know the things you've told our boss and need to walk you through it in minute detail."

And we did, for hours and hours and hours...

I stuck to my basic story. At no time did I change the facts, or embellish anything, just staying with the basic back-story I created to get through this stage. When the leg pain got too much, I stopped them and said, "Sorry to do this, but my pain level is far worse than it was when you got here, so you'll have to give me a moment to medicate." When I hobbled down to the master bath, I noticed both agents sit up and carefully watch, maybe in case I went postal.

Shortly after getting a pain pill, and drinking a full glass of water to wash it down, Agent Ordonez's phone rang and he stepped out onto the front deck to talk.

He wasn't gone long, and when he came back, he had a totally different look. Agent McBurney jumped to his feet figuring something was wrong, but Ordonez waved him back down onto the sofa. "Things are looking like you have given us righteous information, at least after forensics' initial inspection of Colvertone, so we will ask that you keep this all to yourself, and let us develop our case. Mr. Fleming, there is a one-hundred percent chance we will be back to ask you further question, but things are moving, and time is everything right now. Please give us the courtesy of not clouding things by tipping anyone off or calling the press."

We shook hands and they got up and left. Not the most personable agents, but I thought they were capable and passionate about doing a good job.

I was way too wiped out for more than a light meal, a few minutes of the news and weather, and a rather difficult time providing Rebecca her sample. My body was not in the mood to think sexy thoughts!

When I was up and around in the morning, I discovered I had guests. My two new friends, from yesterday were ensconced on lawn chairs, under the overhang, on the front deck.

"Our boss - not the director - has dispatched us to spend some time with you, today. Forensic accounting is screaming like lunatics. Colvertone is everything you claimed, Mr. Fleming, and much more. The task force is assembling at an operations base for an intrusion, and DOJ is sending a planeload of agents to lock down the individuals that are being identified as we speak.

"Mr. Fleming, I realize you are injured, and this is a tough thing to have to do, but the Director has told our boss to bring you in while we sort this out. You are not being detained, sir. You are not being questioned, and you are not a suspect in any illegal activity. However, due to the potential for this to go off the rails, we must protect you until our raid is conducted.

"Can we call you physician to get some information on what your needs will be, physically? It would make everyone feel much better if our medical officer spoke to your doctor and coordinated your care regimen.

"Please?" He and I both knew I was their prisoner right up until I wasn't. Arguing or refusing wouldn't help. If giving in to their desire to keep me close by and away from phones was the price for protecting Beth Ann, I was all for it.

While I got a light bag together, Agent McBurney spoke to Rebecca, who then got permission from me to speak to their medical officer. She wanted details, and all I said was that there were things being learned about the circumstances surrounding the accident, that were being looked at from a 'special' angle, and that I was very happy to be cooperative in any way I could.

Rebecca was clearly skeptical but, just as I knew she would, she said nothing and told me to keep the wound dressed, dry, and clean. She said to call her and check in so she would know how I was progressing. The most embarrassing thing was having Agent Ordonez drive to Rebecca's office on the way to their intended destination so I could drop off my sample.