by Isaac Allen
Taylor became animated. He sat up strait in his jail cell bunk. "I was on my way to find out the information about a propane company when I ran the stop sign that your fellow Deputy tried pulling me over for. So this propane company…"
Taylor is interrupted by noise at the door. Both he and the Deputy look to see who is unlocking the door and entering.
Deputy Johnson turned to Taylor. “The Sheriff Douglas is here.”
Taylor gave Johnson a look of deep truth. “Don’t be so sure.”
Suddenly the door swings open. Two men, agents, in black suits and sunglasses enter the station. They stand side by side to each other and study the interior of the Porter City Jail.
The agent on the left of Johnson looks at him. “Deputy Johnson. We are here for the fugitive terrorist.”
The agent on the right looks into the jail cell. “Mister James Taylor. We meet again.”
Deputy Johnson is a little stymied on how they could have unlocked the door and how these agents fit Taylor’s descriptions to a tee. He paused to formulate an answer. "Um, uh, yeas. I have to call Sheriff Douglass in so he can sign the release forms…"
The agent to Johnson’s left proclaimed, “That will not be necessary. We will take custody of the fugitive now.”
CHAPTER 6. An Unmarked Car
Outside of the station Deputy Johnson watched the two men in black suits haul James Taylor to their black and unmarked sedan.
Taylor, with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had a sour look that his world was at an end, all the trumpets sounded and it was judgement day. However under Taylor’s dire look was an air of calmness and calculating; as if he wasn’t defeated yet.
The agents stuffed Taylor in the back seat.
After securing Taylor, the men in black suits turns around and stared at Deputy Johnson.
The agent to Johnson’s left asked, “Has Mister Taylor said anything to you at all since your watch has started? As to the reasons he may or may not have for his terrorism?”
Deputy Johnson had deducted at that point that these guys were all about business. And the business was all about protecting the secrets at all costs. "Uh, no. Nope. Nothing. Said nothing. Quiet as a church mouse. Wish we had more outlaws quiet, like him."
The two agents looked at each other. Then they looked at Deputy Johnson.
The agent on Johnson’s left spoke. “For a job well done in handling a wanted terrorist…
The agent to Johnson’s right reached into his jacket pocket.
At that point Deputy Johnson’s imagination ran wild and ran straight down the path that the agent was going to pull out some pistol with a very quiet silencer on it to silence anything James Taylor had said.
Then, the agent whipped out a hand full of Liberty Lube coupons.
The agent on Johnson’s left continued his sentence “…here are some coupons to Liberty Lube. These are good for free oil changes.”
Johnson had a gut feeling that refusing the coupons would mean great peril for him. Perhaps a fate like James Taylor’s (who was then studying the interior of the sedan). Deputy Johnson threw out a nervous smile as he grasp the coupons “Much obliged.”
The agents looked at each other again. Then they got into their unmarked car.
As they started driving off Johnson saw Taylor looking at him with a semi devious smirk.
Though Johnson knew that James Taylor was most likely being taken to a unconstitutional realm well beyond the scope of Due Process, he was kind of relieved Taylor was gone.
Johnson began to walk toward the station when he noticed the orange glow from the sun over the eastern hills. He didn’t realize it was dawn already. The stories and events of the evening went by very quickly he thought.
Just before the Deputy opened the door into the station, he heard a commotion on the other side of the Sheriff’s office. It sounded like small trucks and fences rattling. To him that didn’t make sense. He looked confused. He was thinking that the vacant lot next to the station didn’t have any fencing.
So Deputy Johnson went to investigate.
When he turned the corner around the jail he saw a group of workers he’d never seen in his parts before. There were a dozen workers toiling away in the vacant lot. Some of the workers were unloading sections of chain link fencing off of a flatbed truck. Others were assembling the sections of fencing as to fence in the lot.
Deputy Johnson deducted that that scene of the men working was the makings of a construction site. The Deputy pondered what was going to be built there. He hadn’t heard any scuttle around town about that old dust lot being developed. The town was so small that everyone was in the loop about what goes on. Except for this.
Deputy Johnson noticed two workers pounding in a sign at the corner of the lot. He went over to see what the sign said.
When he read the sign he turned white. His jaw dropped. His arms fell to his sides. The grip he had on his coupons left him and the coupons fell to the ground one by one.
The sign read “Future home of Liberty Lube!”
