North of the Rock

by Ian Jones

  Then finally, the one that John wanted to see. In walked Barlow. He looked very different. Still wearing a suit, but without a tie and no shiny shoes, just the same pair of paper bootees as worn by the others. He looked ruffled and unhappy. His attorney was an overweight, fastidious man who was pedantic in his attempts to control the interview. Barlow insisted he was not aware of any building, or fence at Brown’s field, had never even been there, and knew nothing about any shooting expeditions. Yes, he had dinner with the judge, but they were old friends and socialised frequently. He had met Mr Waldron for the first time, who was just visiting the state. He had committed no crime. Then he leant toward his interrogators and spoke in a conspiring whisper, fixing an overly sincere expression on his face. Since his shocking detainment the previous night he had given everything a lot of thought he told them. It was possible, he believed, that Dennis Abel had been party to the events, he had been acting very secretively recently and had been a close friend of Paul Hunter, who was a lover of guns and violence, and a man that he only knew vaguely. Yes, it was with his deep regret to tell them that his old friend Dennis was to blame for everything along with Hunter, both their deaths were a tragic loss, but he had to speak out. Crimes had been committed. He wanted no part in anything illegal.

  Then he sat back smugly.

  So Barlow knew Hunter was dead, John thought. He wondered how that had got out.

  Patrick did not mention the fingerprint that had been discovered at Brown’s, eventually he tired of dealing with the attorney and terminated the interview.

  Everybody met again at the end of the day. They had heard better news from the agents at the prison. It looked like they would be able to get full testimony from both Tilling and Gibbs who were looking to shift as much of the blame as possible, and Carter was also making a lot of noise, when he wasn’t on the ventilator.

  John mentioned the fact that somehow Barlow had found out Hunter was dead, while he said it he stared at Reed, but it turned out to be inconsequential. The district attorney was not at fault. Barlow’s attorney had demanded full disclosure, and in the initial police documents there had been copies of the FBI reports.

  Jack Carpenter seemed reasonably pleased, but frustrated.

  ‘Ok, so same drill tomorrow. We are in court for the arraignment hearing first thing and then on with the questioning. We will be keeping everyone at Travis,’ he looked at Reed, expecting confrontation.

  But Reed was different. He had watched the interviews, his job was to prosecute, whatever his previous standing was with Raymer, or with Barlow, things had moved on. He had to make a choice, and he had opted for the safe one. Do the right thing, do his job.

  ‘I agree,’ he said, ‘and I will be in the court. I have already supplied papers from my office.’

  Carpenter nodded, satisfied.

  Day Two

  The courtroom wasn’t busy, it had been closed to the press and public. John and Gilbey were both there, along with several agents. But there had been big news, already. Carter was now seriously ill, and had broken down in the night and asked to speak. Completely of his own doing, with no threats or persuasion of any kind he had given a full statement, or as close to one as they could expect with the condition he was in. He had been asked to find Mexicans, preferably men, along the border who would be looking to work in the US. He denied knowing what that work was, but unconvincingly, in the end admitting that he knew the work wasn’t real. He stated that he had driven down into Mexico to a border town called Orida, where he had known there would be people looking for work. He said that he had done this previously, but wouldn’t admit to how many times. He had been asked to bring them to the airport at Gray Rock, which he had done, and had used the van because as a sheriff he wouldn’t be stopped. He said he had explained that to the men he picked up. He left the van at the airport as requested. Then, on Friday afternoon, he had been asked to watch over the gate that same night, as there was going to be a special VIP event at Brown’s. It had not been explained to him what the event was. He said Abel had asked him to find the men and also watch the gate, not Barlow but was vague and did not provide any details. He admitted to being suspicious when he saw the van was there when he followed everyone to Brown’s. He didn’t know if Barlow knew about what was going on or not. He had recognised Judge Raymer, but had never seen Waldron before and wasn’t introduced.

  So they had a part of the story, full of bullshit about Barlow’s involvement but because Abel was dead it was clean and simple to pin it on him. They were confident that in time Carter would soon complete everything, provided he stayed alive.

  In court, Philip Reed stood up, and despite all their original misgivings, he did his job. It turned out that different to appearances Reed was actually a good man and knew what he was doing. John, Gilbey and Patrick all enjoyed the look on both Barlow’s and Raymer’s face when Reed categorically stated bail must be denied. These men were all rich, and all powerful in their own worlds. Flight was not a possibility should they be bailed, it was definite. Reed had pages of evidence from both the PD and the FBI, which he had submitted to the court. The process didn’t take very long. The judge, a woman, agreed. Bail was denied. The three men were to be detained at Travis and Carter at State for the duration of the investigation. None of the Regulators had applied for bail. The attorneys all talked a lot, raised voices, arms being waved around, but the judge just looked down at them placidly until they ran out of steam. Raymer looked furious while Barlow especially was clearly shocked.

  And so, the interviews started again.

  This time John shook Reed’s hand when he walked into the monitor room.

  Raymer was angry. Immediately he went on the attack. Canning, Munoz and Patrick sat there watching, smiling, enjoying the show, as did John and Gilbey. Eventually, the attorney could see where this would lead and calmed it down. A copy of Carter’s statement was laid on the table, and read out slowly by Canning.

  ‘So, at no point did you wonder what the van was there for, and you didn’t question the fact that three handcuffed men were thrown from it?’ Patrick asked.

  Raymer blustered, he hadn’t seen the men in the van, he had been sitting in the car.

  Patrick produced John’s, Gilbey’s and the three Mexican men’s statements, which recounted the events where the van was opened and where everybody’s positions were at the time.

  Raymer tried to change tack, but was starting to contradict himself, the damage was done.

  Then Canning asked about Hunter’s movements, again referring to the statements, which had led to Gilbey taking action, forcibly stopping everything by shooting Hunter before he killed one of the men. Gilbey and Smith had made themselves known and disarmed everyone present, then the FBI was called.

  Raymer stood up, defiant.

  ‘I am a judge, the most senior in the state of Texas. I will not spend another minute in this room listening to this. I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!’

  ‘Apart from knowingly joining in on the hunting and potentially the eventual murdering of three innocent men, who were all abducted and held against their will, facts which despite all the bullshit we have been forced to listen to is undeniable,’ Canning replied.

  ‘The judge …’ his attorney started jumping out of his seat but was brusquely interrupted by Patrick.

  ‘Don’t call him that. He is no longer to be treated with any respect. It makes me sick to my stomach. Sit down and shut up. We don’t need to listen any more lies. Your client is guilty, and every one of us in this room knows it, including you.’

  The attorney blinked and said nothing and Raymer turned bright red but clammed up too, visibly shaken.

  End of interview.

  There was a break in proceedings, Patrick was confident but wary.

  Barlow was next, he did nothing but blame Abel. Everything was down to him, Cane had run off because of it.

  ‘No, no,’ Patrick told him gently. ‘Mr Cane is here, he’s with us.’

  Ba
rlow looked startled, then immediately started accusing Cane of being a cold, manipulative liar and having a hold over Abel.

  Patrick said nothing, and then explained very slowly exactly how Cane came to be helping them. Again, Barlow looked shocked.

  He recovered, once more denying any knowledge, but visibly a desperately worried man now. His high forehead a sheen of sweat and constant fidgeting with his hands.

  He wanted to speak privately with his attorney.

  End of interview.

  Finally, Waldron, who was asked the same questions as Raymer. He sweated, stuttered and stammered and suddenly vomited down himself.

  End of interview.

  Patrick walked into the monitor room afterward.

  ‘Getting there,’ John told him.

  Patrick nodded.

  ‘Let’s go and see Cane.’

  It was decided Gilbey would sit this out, it was important that Cane did not feel intimidated. Patrick drove, Cane was at the Hyatt hotel. He parked underneath and then travelled up in the lift, using a room key to activate it. Cane was high up on the top floor, as they walked toward the room they saw a police officer outside the door.

  ‘How’s he doing?’ Patrick asked, showing ID.

  ‘Better. He’s eaten something today,’ the cop said.

  They walked in. Cane was sitting in a chair under a blanket watching the TV. He looked up when the two men walked in, and sat up straight, switching off the television.

  ‘It’s about time. I got something to say,’ he told them simply.

  Patrick set a Dictaphone down on the table and they took their seats.

  Day Three

  There was a conference at eight in the morning. This time, a real sense of excitement filled the room, a buzz that had not been there before. Canning gave John a high five hard enough it hurt when he walked in the room.

  More good news. Raymer’s fingerprints had been found on one of the shovels at Brown’s; a clear set.

  Another body and a lot of spent cartridges, of various calibres had been unearthed, the search was slow going.

  They had found out where Waldron had acquired the Barrett rifle. He had obtained it from the Homeland Security armoury in Washington. He was senior enough that it wasn’t questioned, it was unloaded after all. He had acquired a box of ammo with almost ridiculous simplicity through a supplier that had an eye on building their relationship with the government.

  Raymer’s Ruger proved to be unlicensed. It had been a gift to him from a retiring chief of police several years earlier and was taken during a raid on a drug dealer in San Marcos, Raymer had decided to keep it as a trophy.

  Everybody present had read Cane’s statement, which was simple but descriptive and to the point.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Statement of William Franklin Cane

  Gray Rock was the product of two men’s desire to build white America. Barlow had been the main protagonist but had seen a kindred spirit in Abel when they had first met and they had started One Race along with many other rich, white American businessmen, as a voice to get their opinions heard. They had discussed building a town for white people even back then and had spoken of it many times.

  My involvement started properly in the early nineties. Barlow was already incredibly rich but wanted more and I became his banker. I had been working in banking for many years and knew the system very well. I was appointed BRP relationship manager, and I also took on Barlow’s personal affairs. BRP was making millions, but Barlow was obsessed with his own fortune and I helped and advised him on maximising his payments from the business. I developed a scheme which is still in use today, I was exceptional with moving money around, so it was impossible to trace. BRP grew fast, and so did the profits, and Barlow’s own wealth. I did so well that Barlow gave me a job as CFO at BRP, and then everything really started to happen. Barlow and Abel had already decided on Texas as the location for their Utopia, and Gray Rock looked good. I had heard all about their dreams for the town but was not fully aware of the progress being made. I moved down to Dallas and started living the life there. It was like a dream. I was earning amazing money, and I had everything, we all felt untouchable. But Barlow had a weakness, which I knew nothing about but Abel did and stayed well away from. I admit fully that Barlow had power over me and one day insisted I come along with him to a party, I was invited to the house in Highland Park. There was no conversation as such, I was just advised I should come along, it would be in my interests, I would meet many rich and powerful men. I wasn’t told what happened in that house and once I realised what it was I was sick, I wanted to run away, but the place was raided that night and everyone was taken into police custody. I hadn’t done anything more than walk in through the door so I didn’t ask for an attorney, but one had turned up anyway. The attorney wasted no time, he told me that it was a conspiracy, Barlow was innocent he had never been before there either. It was a setup. I didn’t believe him, I said Barlow had invited me, he had said it was a regular party but I had realised what really went on so it was spelled out exactly what was expected of me, what to say and what to do, and if I did exactly as instructed I would be rewarded. If not, then anything could happen. I was told there were others involved who were not so understanding. I am just a banker, and was afraid more of that threat than I was the police, so I said nothing, and took all the blame. Then, one day in the jail, Seaton came to see me and spoke to me and Greaves about information that was going to be given, and that the two of us should do the same. He told me that a lot of men, Barlow included had been released the same night. I thought about it and decided that Seaton was right. He would ask to talk to the police tomorrow. That same afternoon Barlow visited the prison for the first time. He asked me and asked me if I was going to keep quiet, that it was in my interests, that I would be very rich. I told him that I didn’t know, I had done nothing wrong and was looking at a long sentence. The very next morning both the other men were found dead.

  And I stayed quiet.

  BRP was a massive organisation, making huge profits. They had several factories in locations all over the world. Barlow is president, but has no day to day involvement other than that of a kind of busybody elderly relative, and the actual management tolerate him sticking his oar in, mostly because of history and it is harmless. They have no idea of the cash being rinsed out of the business every single day. But then Barlow discovered, coincidentally completely by accident that planning was underway to build a new super factory. In Mexico. He was furious, but then he remembered Gray Rock, and the plans he had been making. He realised that this would be perfect. A new plant, and a new town. Cheap labour already there. So he spoke earnestly to the BRP team, and they listened.

  What choice did they have, Barlow was president, and held the controlling interest.

  It was agreed.

  And with the plant plans confirmed, Gray Rock was started in earnest. There had already been some construction, but not really anything serious. The town was eventually built from BRP money, without anyone in the company; managers, employees, or shareholders, having any idea. Abel was in charge of construction, and at any one time there were over a hundred teams, all working away. The big houses were completed first, and then around the high street area, and then the plant. The airport was built on top of the old airfield, and the hospital, which were part of the infrastructure demands of the plant. The town continued to grow.

  Meanwhile I was nearing the end of my sentence. I had been diagnosed with what was eventually discovered to be a benign melanoma on my tongue. I spent several weeks in hospital, and because of my spotless record the decision had been made to release me. I left the hospital and returned to the prison to serve my remaining days. The week before I was due to get out I had a visit from a guard, it wasn’t one that I had ever seen before. The guard told me to get to Gray Rock, Barlow wanted to take care of me.

  Gray Rock? I had never heard of the place. Barlow and Abel would discuss ‘their town’ but I had alw
ays believed it was just a dream.

  The guard told me not to worry about it, I would be collected from the prison on my release, which I was, whisked away in a limousine and flown to Gray Rock in a helicopter.

  I changed my name, to avoid any potential embarrassment with BRP, because at the time I still believed I would be back working there.

  Barlow was very pleased to see me, because despite of all the glory in this fantastic new town there was an issue arising. Money. They wanted white families. The temptation was to sell the houses cheaply, but they had discovered this caused a serious problem. They were trying to paint the picture of the perfect life, a town with big dreams and no crime, but it didn’t stand up if the property values were so low. I was happy to be back so I rolled my sleeves up. The cash was there, and ABC Finance was born, offering amazing mortgage deals and unguaranteed loans at spectacular rates. Banking had changed a lot while I was away, but mostly the technology and I picked it up quickly. I was back doing what I did best, and everyone was happy.

  But it went to Barlow’s head, he wanted more. He cultivated his friendship with Judge Raymer and the justice department, and secured the deal to build the prison. Raymer was a frequent visitor to Gray Rock.

  I found out about the hunts, which had started a good few years ago, although thankfully I had never had any involvement. I was never asked, because Barlow knew I would never want to go. I was introduced to Paul Hunter, who was apparently an ex-Special Forces soldier and a ‘security advisor’ to Barlow and Abel. The hunts had begun when originally Barlow, Hunter, and any selected interested others, which apparently sometimes included Abel would drive off toward the border at night and sit and wait, more often than not targets would appear. It was a common occurrence for people to believe they could cross over, despite the patrols. But the risk of official discovery was becoming greater as the border was more tightly controlled. The compound had been built especially as it was a tidier, safer solution. People with connections that Barlow needed were invited and given the full works, while others would pay. I made my disapproval very clear, but by then they had become an institution. From that point the hunts were never discussed in front of me, I was aware of work at Brown’s which I believed was acquired for the new project.