Page 36 of Killer Moonshine

For three days and three nights, they camped out in Arkansas. The weather was sunny, cool, and blissfully perfect. But when one of the team suspected their stalkers were coming their way again, they knew they had to move on.

“This needs to be a decision for everyone,” he said. “Do we stay and fight? Do we move somewhere new? Or do we try and find my friend in Louisiana?”

“Louisiana,” said the crowd.

“We’ve always trusted you,” said a woman. “You’ve never steered us wrong, and if you think this person can help us, then I believe you. I don’t think we have a choice at this point. Someone desperately wants us and whatever we have.”

He knew that hiking through the woods and making their way on foot was going to be a long process, but it was better than being tracked in vehicles, and it would require at least a dozen vehicles for all of them. They didn’t have a choice. They’d left everything behind.

“Then, Louisiana it is. We leave at dawn.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

With the comms team searching security cameras, street cameras, and door cameras for Hugo or whatever his name was this week, the seniors were trying to remember the initial interview with him and if anything was said or done that could give them a hint of where he was hiding.

“Hey,” said Code, stepping into the conference room. “You’ve got a video call from Ms. Beauchamp. She said it’s important.”

“Send it through,” nodded Gaspar. A few seconds later, the woman’s face appeared, and she nodded at the men. “Ms. Beauchamp, what can we do for you?”

“I think it’s me that can do something for you. Consider it payment for the information on Hugo or whatever the hell his name is.”

“No payment needed, but we welcome any helpful information,” smiled Ian.

“As you know, at the ATF, we’re primarily focused on illegal use of alcohol, the sale of tobacco, and, of course, firearms.” The men nodded, believing she was telling them the obvious. “Unlike a lot of agencies, I prefer playing nice with the rest of the alphabet soup both locally and federally. This morning, I got a report from my friends at Homeland and the FBI that four known terrorists made their way into my fair state.”

“Shit,” muttered Ghost. “Any names?”

“Just remember you asked. Does the Samaan family ring a bell to you?”

The four men let out slow whistles, leaning back in their chairs. The Samaans had been a part of attempts to kill each of them, as well as their sons. They’d believed they were all dead, but apparently not.

“The name definitely rings bells. Big, huge, brass bells,” frowned Nine. “These have to be the grandsons or nephews.”

“I would imagine so. Homeland said they’re twenty-eight, thirty, thirty-one, and thirty-three. The four men came in together, claiming that they were attending a course at LSU, except LSU has no record of that. When they finally got around to trying to find them, of course, they were nowhere to be found.”

“Shit. That’s all we need right now. If Hugo has crawled into bed with these guys, he’s in deep shit if he can’t produce us. They prefer to cut off body parts than talk reasonably with anyone.”

“Well, I can tell you that he hasn’t bothered to call up here today, but yesterday, he called to say that everything you had uncovered was fabricated and you had a vendetta against him. Apparently, the story he’s telling is that he was going to start a security agency, and you were afraid of the competition and set out to destroy him.

“Now, I’m not stupid, and I know the truth of that, but it doesn’t mean he won’t try to tell that story to someone who will listen. It looks like the Samaan family has chosen to listen to his delusions. My staff is sending you the most up-to-date photos we have on the Samaan family. If you need my help, I’ll be glad to chip in where I can.”

“We appreciate the heads up and the information,” said Ghost. “We know that Hugo is in the area and still looking for us.”

“Well, it might be dangerous, but at some point, maybe you let him find you. I know what kind of army you have there. Four Middle Eastern men and a crazy lunatic are no match,” she grinned.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s hope you’re right about that.” As the call ended, Ian looked down at the small folder from Hugo’s interview. His application was there, along with a resume and a fabricated DD214. That’s what ended the process for him. His lies about being in the USMC.

“Hey, look at this,” said Ian. “It’s a note from Adele.”

“Candidate possesses delusional thoughts of grandeur and possible hero worship for himself. Takes credit for events that historically could not have happened in his time in the service. Disconnected from reality and quite possibly psychopathic, narcissistic, and bipolar tendencies. Should not continue with the interview process.”

“Damn. I remember reading that,” said Gaspar. “It’s what made us dig deep into his USMC claims. He kept saying he was capable or good enough. I wonder if that’s what prompted him to kill his parents. Maybe they said he wasn’t good enough.”

“That’s possible,” nodded Ian. “Doesn’t make it right, but it’s possible.”

“I’m hungry,” said Nine.

“Same,” said the others.

---