David nodded and swallowed hard. This was unnerving news. Not that he was afraid of Travis—he was confident he could hold his own—he just felt that his new world was crashing down around him. Sure, he’d had similar feelings—he wanted to bring about changes that matched his own beliefs about how things should be run. But to kill people to bring it about? He’d never considered such a thing. David shook his head in wonder at the sheer audacity of the plan.
“Well,” David said. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
CHAPTER 12
Bao was filling machines at his favorite account. The building was loaded with attractive women and the owners treated him like a human being, not an errand boy. As he was refilling the Snickers, he could sense someone behind him.
“Hey Daniel.”
“Hey Charlie,” the man said, chuckling as he walked down the hall and into his office.
Daniel, whose actual name was Mike Wilson, called Bao “Charlie” because of his Vietnamese heritage. Bao wasn’t offended, he merely returned fire. Once Bao found out that Mike was from Texas he started calling him “Daniel” for Daniel Boone.
In his role as Insight Resource spy, Bao found the place to be highly important. Not only were these people becoming the most successful business in town, they had the person who took Charlie Henry on at the meeting at the amphitheater—Patton Larsen. He had yet to spend significant time with Patton, but he was working on it.
“What’s up Bao?” asked Frank, who was the nicest to Bao—probably because he knew what it was like to be an outsider. Also, as a Northern Californian, Frank had been around a lot of Asian people.
“Not much, Frank. How’s it hangin’?”
Frank chuckled.
“I’m good Bao, but I’m not sure you know what that saying means.”
Bao did know, but he let it go.
“You seen Patton today?”
Bao usually asked about Patton, but he always tried to seem nonchalant.
“He was off site this morning but I think he might be in his office.”
“Thanks,” Bao said, returning to his work. Frank walk past him and down the hall to his office.
Patton friggin’ Larsen, Bao thought, nearly laughing out loud. Among the Insight employees, and especially among the spies, Patton was now a legend. One of the spies had been able to capture footage of the “conversation” between Larsen and Charlie Henry. The video had been passed around the office dozens of times. Another spy had actually been able to infiltrate the committee that was forming the government. That was why Bao was working this account today—to leak some of the information gleaned from the spy on the committee to Patton Larsen and then see how he would react.
As he continued his work, Bao tried to concoct a reason to speak to Patton. By the time he got the snack machine filled, he had his reason. He gathered his things and made his way towards Patton’s office, which was on the other side of the building.
Bao peeked in and saw Patton working on his computer. He knocked lightly.
Without turning to see who it was, Patton said, “Yeah?”
Bao stepped in meekly and approached Patton’s desk.
“Hey Patton,” Bao said, fighting the urge to remove his baseball cap and twirl it in his hands.
“Hey Bao. How’s business?” Patton asked, still not making eye contact.
“Good. Not as good as here apparently,” he said with a goofy laugh, “but good.”
“What can I do for you?” Patton asked, finally making eye contact, but still business as usual.
“I like my clients to see their account sheets every quarter and I was wondering… well, some of the ladies were asking for a new machine.”
Patton’s eyebrows rose at that and he asked, “What kind of machine?”
“Refrigerated,” Bao said, pulling out a brochure. “Some of them want healthier food.”
Patton nodded, understanding their problem. He rarely ate junk food and he sometimes forgot to stock his mini fridge with healthy snacks.
“Okay,” Patton said, perusing the brochure. “Email me a price breakdown and I’ll get back to you on it. Sound good?”
Bao nodded. Usually he would say his goodbyes at this point and walk out, but he needed to float him the information. As Patton was leafing through the brochure, Bao cleared his throat. He decided to just come right out with it.
“I hear they’re forming a government after all,” Bao said, bracing himself for Patton’s reaction.
Patton set the brochure down gently and slowly met Bao’s gaze.
“Where did you hear that?” Patton asked, a tinge of anger in his voice.
“Around,” Bao said dumbly. “I’ve been hearing it all over. One of my accounts is someone on the committee,” he said, lying. “They say it’s a done deal.”
“Do they now?” Patton said, giving the young man an icy glare. “What else did you hear?” Patton asked.
Bao pulled up a chair, and for the next twenty minutes, he told Patton everything he knew.
Charlie was in bed, just about to go to sleep when his phone rang.
“Hello,” he said grumpily.
“Charlie, tell me you’re watching this,” came Anna’s voice through his earpiece.
“Watching what?” Charlie mumbled, trying to clear the sleep out of his voice.
“The news. I don’t know how this happened, but someone found out,” she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
The committee had most of the details for the town’s government hammered out, but they weren’t ready to announce anything. Charlie and Anna knew that most people wouldn’t care, and that those who did care would be vastly outnumbered. People like the thought of government, Charlie had told the committee seemingly thousands of times. It brings a sense of safety and stability.
“Hurry Charlie,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice.
“Okay darling. I’ll watch and then call you back.”
Charlie found the remote and flipped on the TV.
“So Mr. Andrews, where did you hear this?” asked the female reporter.
Before venturing to Blue Creek, Devin Andrews had owned a small cell phone store in Nebraska. He was middle-aged, overweight, with mostly gray hair and bad wire-framed glasses.
“I heard it from another Blue Creek resident,” he said simply and confidently.
When the big recession of 2008 hit, his business was greatly damaged. Not only because of lagging sales, but because it was difficult to get loans to operate his business. As the country was driven further into the recession by bad economic policy, he had to lay off all but one of his employees—his own son. His frustration led him to joining his local Tea Party group.
“And who is that?” the reporter asked sweetly, but the man could tell she was digging for something he didn’t want to reveal.
“I’d rather not say,” Andrews said, trying to maintain his cool.
The reporter asked the same question in a different way, but Andrews stonewalled her.
“I don’t see how it matters. We’re talking about a very small group of people that want to establish a government for everybody and not giving everybody a say,” he said, finally betraying his annoyance.
The reporter was taken aback at his sudden anger, but returned her face to its normal, plastic, fake smile.
“Well, we just want to be able to follow up,” she said, betraying a little frustration herself.
The man glared at her, shaking his head.
“As always, you’re looking at the wrong story. The story is that a small group of people want to establishment a government for Blue Creek and we don’t know who these people are. Where are they from? What do they want to do? What will the government be like? Will it be based on the Constitution or will it be something new? Why don’t you find out who this ‘committee’ is,” he said, flashing his fingers as imaginary quotation marks, “and find out what they’re planning?”