Mike Casey drove up Drake’s long driveway at 7:15 a.m. Sunday morning. Drake had just returned from a morning run with Lancer and watched the dust rise behind his friend’s SUV. When it stopped in front of the old farmhouse, Drake gave his friend a friendly salute and went to greet him.
“Thought I’d see you for lunch, not breakfast.”
“I slipped out before the kids were up. Thought it would save me from making excuses for not being home,” Mike said, swinging his long legs out of his white Yukon. “Fix me that breakfast you just mentioned and tell me what’s going on, ’cause I suspect I’m going to need my strength today.”
Drake led the way into his kitchen and started pulling items from his refrigerator.
“Coffee cups are in the cupboard to the right of the sink. Some scrambled eggs and toast enough, or do you want me to pull out a steak to go with your eggs?”
“Scrambled eggs and toast will do for now, but save the steak for lunch,” Mike said.
Drake smiled as he started cracking eggs in a small mixing bowl. Mike’s youth, spent on his folks’ Montana ranch working long days, taught him to eat big meals when there was time.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Mike. I seem to have kicked over a hornet’s nest when I started poking around a murder at a client’s place,” Drake said, adding a little milk to the bowl, along with a pinch of fine herbs. “If I don’t get ahead of this thing, I’m going to wind up being sucked into a homicide investigation that could cost me my practice.”
“And you think this has something to do with that varmint you want to hunt?”
“I do,” Drake said, pouring the egg mixture into a large skillet. “The security firm at Martin Research is ISIS and it’s involved somehow.”
“Whoa, you’re talking about ISIS? I know those guys. They’re the big kids on the block of corporate security and executive protection. Why do you figure they’re involved?”
“Too many coincidences. Rich Martin’s secretary was murdered when the security system crashed or was turned off. After I questioned ISIS about the security breach, my client’s head of security at Martin Research supposedly committed suicide, hours after I met with him. He was okay when I talked to him, and he was the one who first pointed a finger at ISIS. I woke up that night with three guys surrounding my house for a turkey shoot. I’m the turkey.”
“You’re taking so long on those eggs, I’m really hungry now,” Mike moaned. “So I assume you took care of the shooters in your usual way and want to find out if ISIS is involved. You have any bacon or sausage to go with those eggs?”
“Not all of us can eat like you, Mike. You’ll have to make do with some chorizo I have in the refrigerator. I’ll throw in some chili peppers. Start the toast. Bread’s in the pantry.”
Mike came back with the chorizo, a can of black beans, a loaf of bread and a smile on his face.
“If you’re going to add peppers, I thought these beans might be tasty as well. So what’s this little adventure tonight all about?”
While they ate what turned out to be a pretty decent egg scramble, Drake continued the briefing and told Mike about following the ISIS manager to Hood River, the drug dealer he had lunch with, and the training facility.
“I’ve heard about the ranch. Supposed to be a small version of the Blackwater facility in North Carolina that trains private military personnel. But ISIS can’t have a convicted felon running around on its ranch. They’d start losing business, big time, if anyone reported it. What did you say the felon’s name was?”
“Maybe you’ll get to meet him, name’s Roberto Valencia. That’s where I want to go tonight, the ISIS ranch. Do a little recon, like we used to,” Drake said, watching for his friend’s reaction.
The wry smile he always wore slowly faded from Mike’s face.
“Do you know anything about this ISIS facility? Like, are there guards, security cameras, dogs, you know, some of the basic things we used to look for? ’Cause I don’t need to get caught and wind up in jail. We can’t shoot our way out of things here in the States.”
“I don’t plan on getting caught. I just want to look around, see if I can find out what Kaamil’s up to. I know I’m not wearing the uniform again, but it’s sure starting to feel like someone has me in their sights. All I want you to do is cover me, like old times.”
“So you’re thinking about going in alone and blind? When was the last time you did something like this, ten or twelve years ago? We’re not kids anymore.”
“Some things you don’t forget, Mike. I’m still in good shape. I just want you watching my back. Something’s not right about ISIS. You up for one more soiree, amigo?” Drake asked.
Mike’s curiosity overcame his reluctance. “Let’s say I am up for one more little adventure. What’s the plan?”
“I walk in, you cover me, I walk out and we drive home,” Drake answered, holding a serious look on his face as long as possible. “Of course, we may have to tweak that plan a little.”
Mike let out a long, slow sigh of relief. “Whew, for a minute I thought you were crazy like when I first met you. Course then you’d have just said, ‘let’s storm the place.’”
“I’m older now, so I’m thinking we should storm the place carefully.”
For the next two hours, they went over all the possible scenarios. What was the best time to visit the ranch? How would they communicate? How would they deal with security measures? What would they do if guards were encountered? What about dogs, did they need tranquilizer darts? What did they do if he was caught? If he found something incriminating, did Drake take it with him or capture it digitally?
Then they went over the equipment they needed. Mike had brought most of it with him, including night vision goggles and tactical headsets.
“I’ve mounted state-of-the-art communication equipment in the Yukon. With these headsets, we can communicate up to a half mile away from it, no problem. The headsets are configured to use with optical head bands. I’ll be able to see what you see at all times, and you’ll be able to see whatever’s out there,” Mike said proudly. “I’ve tried to make sure my guys have the best equipment available when they work.”
With Mike’s M24A2, they agreed to limit their firepower to the handguns they were used to carrying-the.45s they had been trained to use as Delta Force operators.
“How far are we taking this thing tonight?” Mike asked.
“I’m just going to take a look around. I don’t plan on making things worse by shooting anyone. Don’t worry about it, Mike, they’re not even going to know I’m there,” Drake said, sounding as confident as he could. “Look, I have some work to finish in the vineyard. You can help me, or take a nap. It’s your choice. I’ll take you to dinner around 6:00 and we’ll leave for Hood River around 7:30.”
Drake spent the next three hours on his old tractor, pulling out another row of old grape vines, alone.