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Undercover RoseChapter 98 free porn video
"Get your asses out of bed. Something is happening and I have no idea what," I said. "I need you to help get Bart and his wife through the compound and to the meadow behind the greenhouses. Get a move on and bring something to make sure nothing happens to them while they are on the Catfish Farm." I said that from the doorway of the travel trailer.
Shit this thing is going to need airing out before Andrew can ever use it again, I thought. I had no idea what the smell was, but it was much worse than dirty socks. It wasn't as bad as rotting flesh, but it was pretty bad.
Sterlin went to the front gate to allow them inside the compound parking lot. Once they were outside, I noticed that their car had no luggage. When a woman leaves in the middle of the night with nothing but a large purse, it can not mean anything good. That and the fact I had never seen or heard of Swamp Dog using a chopper which most likely meant a disaster of some kind.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked in the parking lot.
"No time to explain, the chopper is inbound as we speak. You will see it on the news," Bart said to me.
"What the fuck is going on," I asked as we threaded our way to the rear of the property.
"It's Sylvia. Apparently she is dead," he said. "Watch the news and you can fill in the blanks. Be ready to run or fight."
By the time he said all that, we were on the back of the new fence line. I expected a blackhawk or something like that. What came down was a soap bubble with a tail rotor. As the old saying goes, there was room for their ass and a gallon of gas.
The bird was remarkably quiet and when it was gone five minutes after it touched down, Bart and Rita were gone as well. "I'll call you about the plant," Bart said just before he ducked and ran to the chopper.
There was never any news updates in the middle of the night, so we all went back to our beds to try and sleep. In my case it worked. I could lay my head down and fall asleep in the middle of a firefight I expected. It was a trait I picked up being undercover. I had learned to completely compartmentalize my brain.
I could work on a problem till I came to a dead end. I could then put it down and do something else totally unconnected. Later I could pick it up right where I left off and work it till the next dead end. The ability to shut my mind off helped me sleep through the screams of a third world prison, as well as being someone with no identity.
The point is I slept till 5 AM. I rolled the trike into the parking lot. Before I got to the key card access machine, I saw the light come on in the travel trailer. Even so I didn't leave the gate open. I had no idea if there was an assassin waiting in the dark or not. If there was I wasn't going to leave the door to the chicken coop open for him.
I rode toward the fast food restaurant. But when I got to the road where I would normally turn right to the Dairy Queen, instead I turned left into town. I pulled the trike to a stop in front of the Cafe. Inside I found the boxer and the waitress pretty much alone. There was one of Miss Sadie's kinsmen seated at the counter. I really didn't want any small talk, I just wanted breakfast.
"Two eggs scrambled soft, with sausage and potatoes," I said to the boxer through the window.
"You want toast," he asked.
"Yes please," I replied as I slipped back inside myself.
Sylvia being gone was going to be a real kick in the ass. I wondered if we were all being hunted. If so I needed a plan to run again. I couldn't use the trike people at Church Camp, if not those in the Swamp knew about the trike. How the fuck could I get lost, I wondered.
"Thanks," I said to the waitress as she put the food onto the table for me. I also didn't have a problem eating. I paid the only slightly bigger check than usual, then rolled out of the parking space in front. Twenty minutes later I opened the gate that guarded our parking area. I saw Bart's car, my truck, Sterlin's Caddy, and the tarp which covered the two bikes all in place. Steve's pick up was gone.
If they are smart they will be on the lamb together. Two guys are harder to slip up on, I thought. I went to my cabin to watch the news.
"Today's top story is a double kidnapping of the operatives involved in the murder of Ambassador Hays and his two body guards. They were taken from their home and shot in the street along with their families. There was a third attempt that wasn't as successful. Details are sketchy, but it looks as though two of the dead in the third attempt were Americans. We are attempting to get more details at this time."
Then the news switched to damage control and denials. Since there was a time difference the news was several hours old. I waited for the two operatives I had on staff to show up. When they did an hour later I wasn't at all surprised to note the lumps under their clothing.
"Well what do you think?" I asked.
"I think we are sitting ducks here," Sterlin said.
"That is a fact," Steve agreed. "It would take five to ten guys to secure this compound."
"Oh I don't know about that. Most likely we are going to jail, rather than have a firefight," I commented. "I might be pissed at the government but I'm not ready to go to war with them."
"Yeah I think we need to sit tight and let this play out," Steve said.
"I agree. How about you Sterlin?" I asked.
"I sure as hell ain't looking for a fight," he said.
"Then it's time to water the plants," I said. So that is what we did. We returned to our work schedule, but kept our cell phones turned on and close. Every couple of hours we went in for a news update. The latest was mostly politicians giving opinions. No one on my farm gave a crap about their opinions. Then of course they paraded a bunch of generals and retired generals out to give their opinion. The serving generals all denied any involvement of the military.
One of the anchors made the tenuous connection to Swamp Dog. "General if there were no Americans involved in the operation to obviously seek retribution for the murder of the Ambassador and his two private contractors, who do you think would do it?"
"Mercenaries," he said bluntly. A split second later he looked like he had swallowed the poison pill.
"You mean a civilian American militia?" the newsman asked.
"No, I mean an American Foreign Legion," he said trying to find a way out of the interview. The damage was done. Swamp dog was about to have a light shined on them.
"Shit, we are fucked," Sterlin said.
"There is a shit storm coming, but it won't kill the snake. It will most likely cut off the tail, but not the head." I always knew Sylvia was the face of Swamp Dog, but not the head. "In the meantime we will just get back to work on the compound. Even if we have to run, we can't touch the money we are making here."
What I hoped no one knew was that I had invested in a number of good quality diamonds of one and two carats in size. I had not invested in stones so large as to cause a stir when sold. My stones were worth between two or three thousand dollars a carat. They were sitting on the shelf in my kitchen, inside two coffee cans. The cans had been opened the coffee poured out, then a number of stones poured into the empty can after which enough of the coffee was replaced to fill the can. I also re-glued the metallic foil and resealed the lid. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other coffee can on the shelf. I still owned the three empty batteries cases filled with precious metals. There was probably a quarter million in gold, silver, and diamonds on hand at any given time. There would be no wire transfers to trace. With the physical gold, silver, and diamonds I could sell them and turn them into cash easily. The trick was to keep the amounts small enough so a gold store or a jewelry store could pay on the spot. I did not want to run, but I could if necessary. That had been the whole purpose of the skimmed cash used to buy the precious metals and gems.
We went back to the greenhouse then worked until dark. The daylight lasted a little longer every day. When we went inside. There were a few further details available. The strike team had gotten Sylvia's body out, so that her body wasn't dragged through the streets.
"If we have to bug out, do you guys need money?" I asked. "I plan to go by the bank to make one large cash withdrawal if I have time. The money is no good to me sitting in a bank, if I'm on the run. So if you need some we can grab it as we leave town," I suggested.
"If we bug out in the middle of the night I can survive, but cash is always a nice thing to have," Sterlin replied. Steve just nodded his head.
"In the bank in Williamston we can probably draw twenty five thousand from their main branch. More and we might have to wait and I'm not going to alert the government prior to our leaving," I said. We can hit every ATM in the city in one round for a thousand each before we run. They are going to know where we start from anyway, so we might as well. After that we have to get lost.
"How do we do that?" Sterlin asked.
"Cars from Craig's list with stolen plates. Change plates every ten days, but swap the plates so the car with the stolen plates won't be noticed for a while. If the plates are from a different state, we make one swap for an in state plate, then we go immediately to a parking lot across town to switch it on another car for the local one we just stole. That way the final stolen plate will be good longer," I said.
"Damn girl you really know how to do this shit," Sterlin said.
"Let's hope it's not necessary. I'm expecting Bart to call any time now," I said.
When the eight o'clock new began, it began with the General and the American Foreign Legion quote. That general's off the cuff remark was going to haunt us all. The news on every network ran with it. Way too much attention was headed for the Swamp Dog.
I turned to my computer and read the complete interview and then the comments. As expected there were two schools. One thought Sylvia and her crew where heroes. Someone finally doing something was the majority of the comments. Other thought they should be put on trial as terrorists for the killing of the terrorist's families. There was in fact a lively discussion raging.
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