the Road to pay Dirt - Chapter 14

   Colonel Panic's real life job wasn't happy when he explained he was giving his two weeks notice and quitting. He had no choice, this thing he had been doing more and more of, was requiring more and more of his time and days. He had to get some sleep, he was running on empty. He did look like hell, although he had a smile on his face.

   When threatening him didn't work to make him stay, they tried bargaining with him. Then they tried bribing him. He was steadfast in his refusal. When "this" was all over? Whatever "this" was? He would be back, if they wanted. Or not, but "this" had to be done.

   He calculated that if he watched it financially, he could theoretically spend a couple years out of work. His house was long paid off, and the taxes were only a couple hundred bucks a year. He usually limited himself to cheap, used vehicles and motorcycles that needed work; he would continue down that road. He could eat fairly cheap as a single guy, he just wouldn't go out for a nice dinner nearly so much. He had his "life savings" from a previous life and career he had given up, but his aim was to live on what he made, and save that for later.

   When Panic's woman found out that he had quit his job for the project, again whatever that actually "was", as she didn't know… she was furious. Much like his job had been, she first tried threatening him. That didn't work. She tried bargaining and bribing, which didn't have any effect either. She finally tried the waterworks, and wanting to know what was wrong with her, or what was wrong with him, that he couldn't act like the "other" men around her were treating their women.

   He told her basically the same thing as he had his job… it was over, and there was simply no other way for him to continue without breaking this off. When this was over? He would be back… she could take him back or not, that would be her choice.

   His final answer on both counts, work and personal life? Turned out to be surprisingly anything except… final. Calls from work and the people around them continued to stream in. The same plot line around all of them. When he got tired of explaining himself again and again, he simply blocked all of their numbers. Until "job phone calls" ceased.

   Then? He did the same thing with his woman, by necessity. He blocked her number. He had to then block her work number, and several as it turned out. Then he finally started blocking her family numbers she called him from when she was in on the weekends from work.

   Once the phone stopped ringing off of the hook, Panic set about ordering and assembling a number of example cameras. Boxes arrived and he carted them upstairs to his "electronics lab" as he called that side of that particular converted bedroom. When he got busy and involved, Speedy or Bluedot signed for boxes and dropped them at the top of the stairs for him to add to his growing collection.

   Panic got into a rhythm. He identified every single step of making one of his cameras. He would cut hundreds of pieces of wire at a time. Carefully. He thrust the wires down plastic tubes he had trimmed that were his "jigs". Shove the wire down until it peeks out, then snip it. Again. Again. Again… When he had a shoe-box full of that colored wire, he moved onto the next colored wire. He assembled them the same way after he had honed his procedure on the first couple examples.

   He would work for long hours, working fairly quickly on one after another. Sleeping as little as possible, working as long of hours as was possible. Speedy and Bluedot more or less left him alone during this time. When whiffs of soldering iron smoke were visible when they checked in on him to eat, or bring up coffee and energy drinks? They knew things were moving along smoothly.

   During the camera construction phase of the operation, which was primarily funded by George, Speedy had more than the usual time on his hands. He utilized the new time to pitch and sell his "investigation" to any asset in this state he could. This proved to be problematic.

   When the camera construction phase was done, Speedy and Bluedot more or less kidnapped Panic, and took him out on the several hour drive to George's hunting camp paradise… after Speedy had mandated sleep time for a couple days.

   Speedy and Bluedot had both taken turns coming out and overseeing the "RLB range project". Panic was surprised to see cement tables had been poured in a large number of locations. Picnic tables had been made out of trees in fairly large numbers. A couple pallets of roofing metal was being slowly used for walls and roofs and overhangs of all the little things being made to make a man on a shooting range ecstatic.

   A couple of members that were in the construction business, had taken time off of work and showed a team of volunteers that were handy but not experts, how to make the items they made first. They showed other members that came in for the weekend, and everyone already knew they were expected to do a couple hours of work off and on during this phase of "developing the permanent home of RLB".

   Speedy explained to Panic that he wasn't allowed to work for 8 or 12 hours helping, he was here to relax and have a vacation. Panic did smile and walk around and thoroughly enjoyed himself for almost two weeks. He had that drained, tired look… be he was obviously happy as well.

   He fished. He fell asleep while fishing. A member woke him up handing him his rod with a hooked fish on it, he had found him sleeping and saved his favorite pole and reel. He hung out at the bait shop. He ate and napped at the bait shop. He walked around flushing blackbirds and popping them with his single shot 12 gauge, and a box of his #6-1/2 skeet load he used for "almost everything" that required a shotgun.

   He ordered a 40 dollar low end 12 gauge reloading kit he himself used at home, and bolted it to a stout table at one of the range tables under a metal roof. So everyone could reload 12 gauge if they felt like it. He dropped off a couple bags of #6-1/2 shot if anyone wanted free shot. An 8 pound jug of shotgun powder for "his 6-1/2 12ga load", along with his recipe taped to the table with laminated paper.

   Bluedot had already made a small shed into a reloading cabin for the boys. It had basically "everything" they could want, all they had to bring was their own dies if their caliber hadn't already been "donated" to the die shelf… which was already starting to sprout and grow; members wood-burned their screen name and the caliber onto the shelf to show off their donation.

   Panic reloaded for his 223 and 308 he had brought with him, and went shooting off and on with several of the long time members he was personal friends with over the years. Every member found it relaxing to have a fire and to eat and drink a few beers around it, and bullshit. Members would disappear and go to sleep, others that were going to go on a night pig hunt? Would wake up from their naps and replace them around the campfire.

   Speedy had divided the pig hunting crew every night into two teams. One team split up and watched various trails and fields and wood-lines, the other smaller team was actually hunting pigs at the existing feeders. You were expected to put in 3 nights observation before you "earned" a hunting night. They were to make entries in a notebook for each observation point, of anything and anyone they saw.

   They had abandoned their tents for the "clubhouse" that had metal walls and a roof over it. A growing number of "cots" made out of two by fours screwed together already decorated the clubhouse. The boys had taken to buying 4x8 sheets of OSB and screwing them to first sawhorses, then two by four frames made for them. You could grab several sets of sawhorses and a couple sheets of OSB to make temporary tables anywhere on the property you wanted to set up a new shooting station.

   If guys liked the shooting location? A cement bench would appear. If enough cement benches got poured? A small range-roof went over them. Night pig hunts were a particular favorite of the members. The boys had quickly set up feeders for the pigs after identifying their night movement patterns.

   Panic was about 10 or 12 days into his vacation. He slept in, he napped whenever he wanted. He lazed about fishing or shooting or "bait-shopping" as he called it, at his leisure. Speedy finally arrived back, and wanted to talk privately with Panic.

   "So, whats up, Speedy?"

   "All right, here's where I'm at. I got what I feel is 'the right guy' at the state police barracks."

   "What does 'the right guy', actually mean?"

   "He has a string of successful investigations. When I lay the whole thing out for him? He admits, it's a good idea."

   "So, what's the problem then? I thought the whole idea was to develop it to a point it either went nowhere, we were done… or, we were getting somewhere, and we called in the whole Roman army to take over."

   Speedy gave him his most exasperated wry grin…

   "I have my friend at the FBI? He's interested. I kind of pitch this thing, and… I get to feeling like I'm a start up business, trying to talk investors into it. One of my main pitch points? Is that George's camera army already exists. We just need some manpower, some authorization, some documentation… and a small arrest team on hand."

   "If the FBI likes it…?"

   "My guy at the FBI, he likes it. If it comes in from the state police. So, I'm stuck trying to get my best prospect at the local state police barracks in on it. He can get the local state police academy to donate volunteers."

   "What's he waiting on?"

   Speedy smiled his exasperated smile again…

   "Well, he naturally wants the FBI to already be involved."

   "Why are they both like this? Why won't one or the other… I don't know… take charge, or whatever. I don't get it."

   Speedy smiled…

   "Here's a quick look at the state police, and the FBI… there's a bunch of drones. The highway team is the best example. The patrol guys. The FBI? Has a similar setup… the junior agents are like the big highway patrol force. The investigators or detectives as people think of them? Are men pulled from that larger pool of already qualified manpower."

   "Okay. I follow so far… go on…"

   "New cases like this? They need manpower. The manpower available, is both the same. Both have trainees that will volunteer. Junior agents and patrol state police… are all assigned to something somewhere. My friend at the FBI, he has a friend he works with, they both like the idea… if it comes up from the state police. This would put it into the 'mainstream' of where a lot of assigned cases come from. The seasoned full agents all go over it and pick through it. It brings funding. It brings manpower. Authorization and perceived importance level? Is much higher, my friend reports."

   "Why is the state police dragging their feet?"

   "Primary concern with the local state police? It's a distributed crime, a lot of it out of their state. Its not a priority. Everyone has too many cases already. Remember, we're trying to connect a series of accidental drownings mostly. That's not the most popular thing to do. Also? Because of the distributed nature of the crime… many different state police would be spending money and manpower, on something they know they wouldn't get any credit for if it actually broke and went anywhere."

   "The FBI, will leave a… fiasco at the state level… and take a plum that's working out, and claim all the credit for it."

   "Not quite that bad? But, some shit like that."

   "And… each is waiting for the other one, to make the first move. Christ…"

   "Tell me about the frustration level, Panic."

   "What is Speedy doing about this situation?"

   "I keep going back from one to the other, and getting nowhere. It's like the case wants to have a chance to be broke open and solved, but, no one wants to solve it."

   "So… now what?"

   "I have no choice. I keep trying to get this rammed through, from one side or the other…"

   "What are you trying next?"

   Speedy grinned.

   "I thought I would try getting both of my contacts into the same discussion. At the same table."

   "What difference would that make?"

   "I'm hoping. Also, just to try anything, I got George just about talked into going to look at faces of suspects for several days straight. It will be long and boring for him. I'm hoping for pay dirt he'll recognize one of the documented kings."

   "How does that come before getting an investigation started at the next level up?"

   "I'm hoping that with a witness making a credible ID… it might be enough of a starting point for either of them to hang their hat on. See, my state's files to look through, only have files on gypsies known to my state police. My contact in this state? Plugs me into his state's known gypsies. But, if I can get to the FBI files…"

   "George gets to look through all the state's Gypsy files, plus the FBI's files?"

   "Yes. The FBI's files are both pulled from all the state files, and they add their own on top of it. I also want you there when we all meet, Panic."

   "Why me?"

   "Because… you originated all of this. You were the starting point. I want you to explain how you came up with this. Between you and George and the army of cameras already together… I get George looking at the files, while I'm still working on both of them…"

   And, Speedy held his palms up. He was going to keep trying as best he could to get someone to take notice.

   "Panic… this is… I feel like some old vaudeville performer? I'm just out there tap dancing my little heart out, waving my straw hat and smiling… hoping a big talent agent notices me."