Secrets of Apple Grove Ch. 03

Just then, the sounds of fire truck sirens could be heard, followed by the two engines rolling out towards the south, towards where the railroad junctions were. I would find out later that someone had set an empty warehouse on fire. At the time, all I knew was that this was my diversion. I ran at top speed to the steps and under the portico as police radios were alerting the Apple Grove authorities of the fire. Shrouded in darkness, I tried the key in the door. It worked!

Once inside, I used the night vision binoculars to make my way down the halls to the County Clerk's office. That door was unlocked, to my surprise, and I went in. I knew that I could have tripped a burglar alarm by now, so I hurried into what looked like a back storeroom. Stairs led down to a basement door, which was metal and secured.

I'd received a most interesting text on my burner phone earlier, just a set of numbers. They happened to be the combination of the spin-dial in the door. I was inside the door within a few seconds, closing it behind me.

My mother and I had long since discussed the time frame of my father's possible filings, and some of the law firm files had also gleaned the information. So it did not take long to get to the right files in the labyrinth of the basement storeroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Okay, he went in." said a Deputy to Sheriff Spaulding, who was staked out to the west of the Courthouse, and two blocks over. Spaulding could hear through the earphones attached to his police radio. "Didn't use the unlit north door, though." the Deputy added. "He went into the South basement door."

"Roger that." said Spaulding. "Put out the word that police are to discontinue using all frequencies to talk about that fire. We almost missed Troy because of all the chatter." A second later the Deputy put out the word, and all police radio chatter ceased.

"Won't be long." said Spaulding quietly to the Deputy with him. "When he comes out of that manhole over there, we're going to shoot him dead, see what we can find on his body, then take him and dump him over in Providence Springs and later claim the niggers murdered him."

"Excellent plan, Sheriff." said the Deputy. "But can I ask one question? How in the hell is he going to get into the Courthouse? That piece of shit we caught the other day couldn't pry the doors open with a crowbar."

"He must have keys." said Spaulding. "Which means we have a mole... an enemy among us."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I found the files for the Victory Christian Ministries charity. I used my personal cellphone to photograph the pages of the legal filings. A couple of title deeds of properties bought and sold, some charity event permits, some filings... ah, the incorporation of the charity. I began reading the names of the officers of the incorporated charity...

"Oh my God! Yes!" I gasped out loud, then silently exulted. Yes! Yes! Yes! I thought to myself as I took a couple of photos of the filed papers. I then took the entire file, turned to the cabinets on the other side, noted the cabinet number of the one I was opening, and stuck this file folder in the very back of the cabinet. If anyone found it, they'd think it was a misfiling... and I doubted any perps would find it at all if they were looking in what should be the correct place.

Time to go, I thought to myself, still exulting at my findings. I went to the far end of the filing room. Sure enough, the old drain was still there, covered by a manhole cover. Using my crowbar (oh yes, of course I brought it with me!), I was about to open the manhole when a glint of bright metal caught my eye. Examining it closely, I saw it was a freshly cut scratch in the manhole cover. I knew what it meant.

"They know." I whispered into my radio. "They know." I then opened the manhole and descended into the passage below, reaching up to ease the manhole cover back into place.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Melina heard the warning on her radio. She had been hiding in the backseat of Don's car when he drove in, and after he'd exited she had eased herself out the passenger side. Her own night vision goggles, far more sophisticated than Don's binoculars, immediately showed the hidden people in several places around the Courthouse. Don very likely had been observed entering the building.

But they did not see her as she went the other way in the shadows of the church, then circled around to the west side, well past the police and fire stations. Sure enough, there was Sheriff Spaulding and another man watching the manhole cover.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Won't be long now." Spaulding said. "Our listening device caught something garbled like 'Oh my God', then I heard the manhole cover clang into place. Get ready..."

Spaulding suddenly peered into the darkness, straining to hear. "Did you hear something?" he asked.

"No--" said the Deputy just as a tranquilizer dart shot from an air-gun struck Spaulding in the neck, injecting its powerful sleeping agent. The Deputy did not have time to consider what he had seen; a dart slammed into his neck an instant later.

Only one of the very best crack shots in CIA history could've so accurately placed those darts in their victims' necks from the distance they were fired. And indeed, one of the very best crack shots in CIA history had just made those shots.

Just in time, too. A moment later the manhole cover opened, and a man in black emerged, his clothes filthy with mud and grime. He observed the two unconscious LEOs.

"Thanks for helping with that." I said.

"My pleasure." Melina said. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Part 15 - The Apple of Eve

"Someone has been in here." my mother said as we all got back to the hotel. She'd been hiding in the car, too, with my gun, as the last-gasp backup if everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"Yep." I said. "They got the computer, too." My laptop's bag was lying empty on the desk.

"Oh shit." Melina said. "Well, I'm glad you insisted on bringing your mother along. If she'd been here when they came..."

"Yes," Phyllis said, "it would not have been good for me. What about your computer, son?"

I grinned. "They took the fake computer, the one that has the tracking device." I went into the bathroom and took the top off the toilet's water container. Inside was my computer, wrapped up in waterproof plastic.

"They didn't search hard." Melina said. "We'd have found that in ten seconds flat." She did not need to elaborate on who 'we' was.

"They're amateurs." I said. "They saw the computer on the table and just took it and beat feet out of here."

Unwrapping the laptop, I took the time to download all the data I'd acquired into it and transmit that data via my cellphone hot spot to the TCPD's most classified servers, again under my personal seal and encrypted. I also filled three jump drives with identical data, well, nearly identical data...

As I worked, I asked my mom very quietly "Mom, did Dad have a safe deposit box?"

"Yes, he did." my mother said. "And I cleaned it out and brought the contents with me when I moved to your Town. I later put everything in a safe deposit box in the Federal Credit Union." I knew of that Credit Union; Laura had an account there, also.

"Did Dad have anything like computer drives or discs in there?" I asked.

"I don't know, son." Mom said. "I'll have to check. I didn't really look at what was in all the envelopes. I just put it all in a box and left."

"I'd appreciate it if we can check when we get home." I said. "Okay, that's done, and I'm filthy. Time to take a shower."

"I'll take one with you." Melina offered, which I immediately accepted. We took a hot shower... together. We soaped each other up, making extra efforts around each other's genitals, Melina washing my cock and balls while I hand-scrubbed her breasts, ass and pussy, noting that her pubic bush was just a thin strip "runway". We made out as we frolicked, tongues twining as our hands roamed each other... but no fucking, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, my mother had packed everything. We were not staying around any longer. "Melina, drive my mom home." I said. "As in her Town & County home, not here in Apple Grove."

"I can ride with you, son." Phyllis said, knowing what I was about to say, and trying to stop it.

"No, Mom." I said. "I've got to stay up here just a little bit longer."

"Not alone." Melina said. "It's too dangerous to stay, even for me."

"Don't worry." I said. "All that military S.E.E.R. training I had to go through will finally come in handy.

We left. I saw no police cars watching the hotel nor anywhere along the road as we drove down the highway. I followed Melina's car until we were well out of the Apple Grove area. I then pulled off onto the side of the road and watched as a few cars went by. We were not being followed.

I took a road that led west, taking a long time to circle back up to the west of Apple Grove and its county. In one small town, I found a place to park where I was well hidden from the road, and I made a call from my Police cellphone, asking the recipient for some assistance the next morning. I then turned all my cellphones off and put them in a box that would block any signals to or from them.

Having done that, I drove the car to an even better hiding place, and watched. Sure enough, a half hour later I saw a car come by, and stop right next to where I'd been before. I gasped in shock when I saw who the two men in the car were.

Fortunately I had a regular digital camera with me, not one contained in a traceable cellphone. I used the long-range lens to take snapshots of them. Having not found me, they got into their car and left. For another hour I watched, but saw no sign of them nor anyone else. I settled in for a few hours sleep...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"We have his computer." said the man. He was white and scruffy, wearing a soiled t-shirt and blue jeans. With him was a slender Hispanic man, also dirty and poorly attired.

"Good job." said Sheriff Spaulding. "Deputy, pay these guys." The Deputy gave each man a small roll of bills and escorted them out of the room.

They were in one of the shops on the main square, early on Sunday morning. There had not been a business here in some time, and it was dusty and barren. They were in a back room. Sheriff Spaulding and his Deputy still had headaches from the drugs administered to them via tranquilizer dart the night before. They'd been found by other officers and taken to the clinic that was the closest thing to a hospital, where they slept it off. Needless to say, when Spaulding woke up, he was one very pissed off man.

"Okay," said Spaulding, "let's see what the motherfucker has."

"He is that." said a woman's voice, cutting through the air. Spaulding gaped at the woman who was approaching his group. She had two young men with her, very well-developed physically, and very well armed. Spaulding knew who she represented, as well.

"He is... what?" Spaulding asked, caution filling his soul.

"A mother fucker." said the woman. "But don't worry about that. Gino, check that computer out."

"What's up with the computer?" Spaulding inquired as one of the young men attached a device to the laptop, then powered up the laptop.

"Two hundred... three hundred..." Gino said in an Italian accent, reading numbers off his diagnostic device..

"That could be the hard drive warming up." said the woman.

"Four hundred... six hundred..." said Gino.

"Shit." the woman said. "Okay, Sheriff, there's a homing device inside this computer. We have to get the fuck out of here. Leave the laptop here and let's go. Right now."

Spaulding was shocked, but as the woman and her two young acolytes bolted out the back door, he and his deputies followed quickly.

They watched from a safe distance as three cars pulled up within minutes. Twelve men, four in each car, poured out of the vehicles. All were wearing suits and sunglasses, and they were heavily armed. They came up to the shop with powerful handguns drawn, then entered the building in a manner of clearing it room by room.

"Who are they?" Spaulding asked.

"FBI." said the woman. "One of their Special branches. If they'd caught you with that laptop, you'd be going to jail on Federal charges."

"Jesus..." breathed Spaulding. "Are they onto us?"

"They're not," said the woman, then added with as much clarity as she could muster, "but my baby brother is."

"Oh yes." she said as Spaulding looked at her, his eyes wide with shock. "I grew up in this God-cursed town, too. Keep your eyes and ears open, Sheriff. If you see anyone else that even looks like an FBI agent, let your contact know. They may have to shut down Apple Grove as a base of operations."

With that, Elizabeth and her two young men left, ultimately getting out of the Apple Grove and the county. Elizabeth hoped that she would never, ever have to see this God-forsaken place again.

And she never would.

Part 16 - Providence

At Andersonville, Georgia is the Confederate P.O.W. Camp that was turned into the National P.O.W. Monument and Museum. The stockade that held 5000 Union prisoners stands reconstructed there.

At one end of the enclosure, there is a small structure, housing a spring from which water still bubbles up today. During the Civil War, the prisoners did not have enough water, and at some time during one night their prayers were answered as a bolt of lighting hit that spot on the ground. Water came forth from the spring that still flows to this day.

Something similar happened here in the town of Providence Springs at the beginning of the 20th Century. The black sharecroppers had no water, and a bolt of lightning struck the ground, bringing forth water from a spring that still streams today.

Most towns have "the other side of the tracks". Apple Grove's county went even further decades ago: "the other side of the tracks" was the west side of the county, and the town of Providence Springs. No white persons lived there, only blacks.

So when a tall, redheaded white man in gray slacks and jacket and a black pullover shirt came into the town on a Sunday morning, it was a sensation. I knew that I was taking my life in my hands, and I had absolutely no backup, no help. But it was a risk I had to take.

I ignored the stares of the people, though I observed the fear etched upon their faces. Word was that Sheriff Spaulding and his deputies were bird-dogging the Blacks of the County to the point they feared going anywhere outside the jurisdiction of the Providence Springs Police... where Spaulding would have jurisdiction over them.

I parked in front of the barber shop and got out of the car. I saw people on the edges of the streets and the windows of the shops, watching like cats too afraid to come closer, but enormously curious. I heard people talking, but as soon as I stepped in the door, silence was instantaneous.

The barber was a man in his sixties, his hair graying. He was wearing spectacles, and he was cutting the hair of a man in his late 30s or early 40s. Several black men of various ages sat in the chairs along the left side wall. To the right side, near the door, was a man near my age, getting fatter with age.

"Hello, Tyrone," I said in the silence. "Remember me?"

He looked at me for a second then said "Donny Troy?" I nodded. "Well I'll be damned. Guys, this cracker played high school football with me. He wasn't worth a shit, though."

"No, I wasn't." I said, grinning.

"So who is this white boy, Tyrone?" asked one of the men seated in the chairs.

"He's cool, brother." said Tyrone. "You remember that kid Nathaniel Jones they tried to frame down in that University Town? This man got him found not guilty." (Author's note: see The Case of the Black Badge, Ch. 01) I heard a murmur in the room, a good one.

I went over and sat down in one of the chairs, between two men, right in front of the barber. All eyes were on me, and I could sense the shock they were feeling.

Every county has a "Teacher", and I had quickly observed that the barber himself was that man in these parts. I think he knew I'd observed that as we exchanged glances.

"My condolences, Tyrone." I said. "I heard about your father being murdered. That's why I'm here. I want to help find his killers, bring them to Justice." That brought more murmurs, but they were of disquiet, unrest.

"Son," said the barber, "We appreciate your sentiment, and I know you grew up in this county. But you're out of jurisdiction now."

I smiled as I took out one of my I.D.s. "Not if I'm a consultant with the FBI." I said.

At that, the barber took the towel off of his client, the haircut already finished. "Gentlemen, clear the room." he said quietly. His voice had been soft and even, but the response was instantaneous: everyone else got up and left. I was alone with the barber.

He came around and sat down in the chair next to me. "Commander Troy... yes, I know who you are... do you realize what you're up against?"

"Absolutely." I said. "The question is if you realize what I and the FBI are truly up against."

"I've got some idea of it." said the barber quietly. "So why are you here?"

"Like I said," I replied, "I want to know what happened to Junior Biggs, and see what I can do about bringing the Crowbar of Justice against some very dirty cops around the old home town."

"You got that right, brother." said the barber. "Dirty don't begin to describe those cats."

"So why did they kill Junior?" I asked.

"We don't know." said the barber. "Junior was the NAACP guy, former County Commissioner from Providence Springs, all that. When Spaulding and his Deputies came and got him, we thought they were just going to give him a warning or rough him up; we didn't think they'd beat his head in with a tire iron."

"Did he talk about anything he saw or heard?" I asked, pressing, hoping this man would tell me what he knew.

"Some days ago," said the barber, as if reminiscing, "someone tried to break into the Courthouse. Biggs was over there; like I said, he's one of the few of our people that could go over there and they'd leave him alone. He filed some town paperwork at the Courthouse that afternoon, then came back. He said the Apple Grove Police were all over the place, patrolling, watching cars and stuff. Something was going on."

I began to see the picture. I said "The Police stopped that break-in at the Courthouse... local police, not the Sheriff nor his Deputies. That had Spaulding agitated."

"Not much gets by you, Mr. Iron Crowbar." said the barber. "Yeah, my friend in your County, the one you call 'The Teacher', he thinks very highly of you. If he didn't, you'd have been dead the minute you walked in here. You're right, the Sheriff was mighty pissed that the Apple Grove Police stopped that break-in at the Courthouse. We think Biggs might have heard or seen something while he was over there, so Spaulding and his enforcers came over and took Biggs away."

Just then, a large black man came into the barbershop. He was bald, had a tremendous physique, and was wearing sunglasses and an immaculate suit and tie, just as Martin Nash always did. It did not take me very long to deduce that this man was an FBI Agent.

"Commander Troy," he said, "I'm Special Agent Julius Jefferson of the FBI, and I'm here to escort you out of here."

"Don't mind if you do." I said, getting up. I turned to the barber and said "Thank you.", meaning more than just the information.

"Good luck to you, son." said the barber. "I don't envy you your task, and I hope I live long enough to see you succeed." I nodded and left with Special Agent Jefferson.

Once outside, I saw three other men in suits, one black and two white. Jefferson said "If you'll ride with me, I'll have one of my agents drive your mother's car. We'll get you back to Rome and get you on your way home."