Fall of Adam

by Rusty Ellis

  The tone in Adam’s voice grated on Viktor. Like he was questioning the job Viktor was doing. With over three years working for Adam, there hadn’t been a single incident worth coverage in the paper or investigation by the police. Viktor had kept it all together—not Adam.

  Adam held the purse, and the followers, and Viktor kept the peace and the locals at bay.

  “It was nothing. Just one of your lost sheep needing to be redirected back to the fold.”

  Adam tilted his head, “Lost sheep?”

  Viktor thought the analogy was clever enough to let the conversation drop. Unfortunately, even though Adam was the keeper of the purse and flock, he was a naïve to the day-to-day movements and security working in his own Community.

  “One of your admirers wandered too close to the cabin and I had her escorted back to the circle.”

  Adam's face saddened at the comment. Viktor was unsure if it was because he hadn’t brought the woman in for some type of inspection by Adam or if Adam actually cared about the wellbeing of the woman. Either way, it didn’t matter to Viktor. His only concern was his men’s proper response to the incidence.

  “Thank you, Viktor,” Adam patted him on the shoulder and closed the bedroom door behind him.

  Viktor sat back down in his assigned spot and reached for his mike, “Popov.”

  “Go ahead,” the HQ Operator answered.

  “Assign James to King during movement hours, loose surveillance. I want someone watching her cabin at curfew.”

  “Roger that, Popov,” the voice answered. “Operator to James.”

  “I copied, Operator,” James answered.

  “Operator to Popov.”

  Viktor heard the conversation and verification by James.

  “Go ahead,” Viktor said.

  “Assignment received and verified.”

  “Roger that, Operator,” Viktor responded.

  Viktor shook his head. His duties felt more like a carnival game of whack-a-mole.

  If a Community member began to draw attention to themselves and raise their head above the surface, one of Viktor’s men would find a way to whack them back down to the level of the others. The goal of the game was to keep the followers—moles—in the dark and under control. If one of the followers reached the top and tried to climb all the way out of their assigned hole, that’s when Viktor personally joined the game.

  In the past three years, only two followers had climbed from their slot and stirred the other followers to peek above the surface of the game. Bad choice for the mole.

  The two didn’t include a handful of moles who popped out of their holes and sprinted away from the game. As long as they stayed away from the game and drawing attention to the game—good riddance. Two moles had jumped from the game, ran to the edge, stirred up other followers, and brought attention from outside agencies to the game. This was unacceptable.

  The beauty of 411 acres of land was just that, it was 411 private acres of land, much of it untouched and heavily wooded—and very private. Viktor grinned at the thought of comparing the followers to moles. Like moles meant they preferred to be underground, in the dirt, living in the soil. He was doing them a favor, returning them to the soil. His grin broadened. Less than one mole a year so far. He was content with the low number, though willing to adjust this number as needed. It was more an inconvenience than a problem.

  Today’s mole wasn’t an issue, yet. He actually hoped she wouldn’t be. Nothing to do with guilt or sorrow, but she had a pretty face and he simply didn’t welcome the inconvenience.

  But in the end, she was a just a mole.

  Time would tell. James was the best man on his security team. His surveillance would determine if the mole had willingly returned below the surface or needed being whacked.

  21

  Chase left Henry’s house and headed back toward Crouch. He weighed the need to find his sister and niece against getting Henry involved. He would do his best to exclude Henry personally, but for now he couldn’t discard the importance of the location of Henry’s property.

  At parting, Henry offered to have Chase use one of his vacant rooms in his house. With no other plans, and being able to stay inconspicuously close to the HLC, Chase accepted. And truthfully, a bed sounded much better than another night in his truck and the possibility of someone calling the state police on a vagrant sleeping in a truck.

  Chase pulled into the quick stop and topped off his gas tank. He preferred to keep the tank full; never knowing if he would end up following someone—Mt. Home to Crouch, for instance.

  He walked into the store and heard the familiar sound of the bell ringing above the door. He spotted Alice behind the counter stocking cigarettes on the rack against the wall.

  “Be right with you,” she said over her shoulder and finished pushing the row of cigarettes back with the three packs in her hand.

  Chase stepped to the counter and waited for her to turn around.

  “Afternoon,” he said.

  “Chase!” she said with what looked like a mixture of surprise and joy.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Millie’s pancakes,” he said with a stern look.

  The smile on her face changed to concern.

  “Sorry, but Frank was right. They were delicious,” Chase smiled.

  Alice reached across the counter and smacked Chase on the arm.

  “Frank!” Alice called. “Chase is here!”

  “Give me a second,” Frank called from the back near the bathroom.

  Chase took the time to pay for his gas while Frank made his way to the front of the store.

  “Let’s get this out of the way,” Alice sighed, “he agrees with you about the pancakes.”

  Frank smiled and began to comment when Alice cut him off, “So what did you find out about your sister and niece?”

  “I’m still not positive they’re even in there so I need to find a way inside. And did you two know about the sensors along the property?”

  Frank looked at Alice and back to Chase, “Sounds like you met Henry.”

  “Nice guy. Makes a great cup of coffee,” Chase said.

  “Did you meet his rifle?” Frank laughed.

  “We were introduced.”

  “He waves his rifle like most people wave hello,” Alice chimed in.

  “Henry,” Frank shook his head, “good man, though. When you mention salt of the earth, Henry and Arvilla came straight from the salt mine. Let’s just say Henry turned a little saltier after Arvilla passed.”

  Alice nodded in agreement.

  “So what’s your plan?” Frank asked.

  “I still need to find a way in, somehow.”

  “You could pretend to be a believer,” Alice said.

  “Faking something like that is a little outside my wheelhouse,” Chase said.

  “Is there another option?” Frank asked.

  “What can you tell me about the polo shirt guys?”

  22

  Megan washed dishes and ignored the simple chatter of the other women working around her. The only thing running through her mind was her last image of Haley at the cabin, her hands pressed against the picture window. Someone touched Megan’s shoulder and she almost dropped the glass in her hand.

  “Are you okay, sister?” Anna asked.

  Megan looked at Anna and didn’t answer, the picture of Haley still at the front of her mind.

  “I called over to you several times, sister. Are you, okay?”

  Megan blinked hard and answered, “Sorry, sister. I’m fine.”

  “What are you thinking about? You were definitely deep in thought,” Anna said and touched Megan’s forearm.

  Megan scrambled to shift her thoughts to the Community, “I was thinking about some things Adam said this morning, sister.”

  Anna smiled at the mention of Adam’s name. She nodded and waited for Megan to continue.

  “He mentioned the world was waiting for our return. It just made me look inward and think of ways to sepa
rate myself from the world. How to make sure I don’t fall back into the trap of the world and its carnal offerings.”

  “That’s wonderful, sister,” Anna eyes teared up and she struggled to hold back the tears.

  Megan fought back the tears. But not because of the words she’d just spoken to Anna, they were just words. They were a simple reframe of Adam’s delusions.

  Her tears were for Haley. The smile on her daughter’s face through the window pained her. It had relieved her to see Haley was safe, as safe as she could expect. But it wrenched her to see her daughter so close but out of reach.

  Anna stepped forward and hugged Megan. Anna’s way of rewarding Megan’s comments about leaving the carnal world. Megan returned the hug, her arms wrapped tightly around Anna, wishing she could squeeze Adam and the Community out of her.

  The two released their embrace and Anna stepped to Megan’s side. She slipped her arm through Megan’s and the two women joined the other exiting women. They walked arm in arm out the front door and down the wooden planks to the dirt ground. They reached the door to their cabin and Megan hesitated.

  “You go ahead, I’ll be right in,” Megan said.

  “Okay, but it’s almost eight o’clock. Don’t be too long, sister,” Anna released Megan’s arm and smiled, pushing the door open and the pulling it shut behind her.

  Alone, Megan took in a deep breath and retrieved the image of Haley once more. She felt an urgency to figure out a way to get to her. To get beyond the glass and the men in the polo shirts.

  She stared blankly into the woods in front of her. Her mind locked onto the dilemma of figuring a way to get to Haley. The cabin door creaked open behind her.

  “It’s eight o’clock, sister,” Anna’s voice whispered.

  Megan breathed out and let go of the struggle for now. She needed her sleep to attend to her Community chores tomorrow, and to work on a plan to rescue Haley.

  She smiled at Anna and stepped into the cabin.

  James waited patiently and watched Megan from a few feet deep in the line of trees. She had spent the day on her chores and didn’t stray anywhere that would send up a red flag.

  He was ready to call it a night when he saw her and another woman walking arm in arm toward their cabin. The other woman had frequent contact with her during his surveillance. It wasn’t a surprise that they were bunk-mates.

  James almost jumped the gun when the other woman stepped into the cabin. He didn’t anticipate Megan staying outside for a few more minutes, alone. One thing uncommon in the Community was individuals being alone. James had learned during his past two years at the HLC to keep an eye on the loners. The loners were the ones more likely to walk away from the compound. They had too much time to think on their own and sort out the whole picture.

  The ones who mingled, who leaned on each other, were more likely to keep up a certain level of belief, or whatever they wanted to call it. His job was to observe behavior and expect actions based on behaviors. It was more of a game for him than anything. They could believe what they wanted. They could worship Adam, the sun, or a tree, it was all the same to him. His role was clear, spot the loners. Let them exit as smoothly as possible, preferably with no help. Open the cage and let the animal run. Just make sure they didn’t open any other cages in the process.

  James was trying to wrap his head around his assignment. Usually he noted the loners and assigned a closer detail to them. Popov was not one to stick his nose into the minutia of the compound, the smaller workings of his teams. He’d made an exception in Megan King’s case.

  The man hoped that the surveillance would wrap up in the next two days. His three-days-on shift had started today and he wasn’t interested in overtime. He didn’t have any extra needs right now. His boat, motorcycle, and truck were all paid off. He could jump back into the overtime pool once he tired of his toys and was ready for an upgrade. For now, he was content.

  James watched as Megan stared in his direction. She wasn’t fixed on his exact location. She had a familiar 1,000-yard stare in her eyes. James was confident she hadn’t seen him. He used the trees and brush to conceal the better part of his body and half his face.

  The stare was common with the loners in the Community. An animal trying to decide if they should escape or stay locked inside the cage.

  The question for James was why did Popov want him to watch her? Why specifically him? Had she done something? Did he run her background and something flagged?

  Popov didn’t offer any further explanation and James knew not to ask. Popov gave you what he gave you and expected you to do your job with it. If he wanted you to know more, he’d say it.

  James looked at his watch—8:01 p.m., past curfew. Maybe she would run tonight. He was fine with that. Work a couple more hours on the paperwork and then return to his 7-to-7 schedule tomorrow.

  He watched as a head popped out from the doorway behind Megan. Her friend said something to her and then the two disappeared into the cabin.

  Crap.

  He had two more regular days on shift before ending up working overtime. Megan had two more days to run or rejoin the fold. Though he wasn’t sure if her rejoining the fold would end his surveillance assignment. James’s only guarantee against overtime was if she bolted, doing both of them a favor in the long-run.

  23

  Chase called Henry and told him he would be spending the night in Boise and would call him tomorrow to let him know if it would extend into a couple of nights or not. Henry assured Chase that his door was always open and finished the conversation by telling him to be safe.

  Chase looked up and found the sign he was looking for, Corner Pocket Bar, and then noted the time. The drive from Crouch took about an hour. He drove down Highway 55 for the better part of the drive then turned off onto East State Street. He continued until he reached Eagle Road where he exited and took a right, then another right and pulled into a parking lot running along the front of a mashup of stores. Slowing down, he found the bar’s lit-up sign above the door, attached to the brick wall.

  Frank and Alice told him that the polo shirt guys would frequently get off shift and stop to gas up on their way back to Boise. Both Frank and Alice had heard the men quiz one another, “Going to Corner Pocket tonight?”

  That was good enough for Chase. If any groups were creatures of habit, it was law enforcement and former military. From Frank and Alice’s description of how the men carried themselves and spoke—‘roger that’ to every question and comment—some if not all were former military. The men were young, or at least forty and younger. They did their military tours and were out and looking for work.

  Chase backed his truck into a parking stall across from the bar’s entrance, a minor attention to detail. It made for quick, smooth exits. Backing into a parking spot didn’t guarantee you were military or a cop. However, not backing in was a good guarantee you weren’t military or a cop.

  He glanced at his watch—7 p.m. Frank had mentioned the polo guys coming through their quick stop about 6:30 in the morning and stopping by after their shift was over at about 7:30 at night. The schedule seemed like a standard 12-hour coverage.

  Chase couldn’t help but think about the polo guy on the porch of the cabin when he was glassing the property. A twelve-hour schedule leaned toward one goal—24/7 coverage of the compound. Military order. Military efficiency. Add to that the black BDU pants and boots and you had a military mindset. The black polo shirts softened the overall ‘tactical’ look just enough to keep the civilians from realizing the extent to which they were being ‘protected’.

  Chase guessed the first of the shift would arrive round about 8:30. It took them 30-minutes to reach the quick stop, most likely due to checking in their walkie-talkies at the end of their shift, and would take another hour to reach the bar. Maybe a little less, depending on how thirsty they were.

  Chase doubted they would run home before hitting the bar. Losing 30-minutes-plus to going home and changing then coming back to the b
ar would seem a steep price to pay after a 12-hour shift. More than likely, they would each keep some type of shirt in their vehicles and change between Crouch and the bar. And it was likely the shirt would not be a polo. Finding these guys and playing them would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Locate the BDUs and boots and you have a winner.

  Chase looked at his watch again—8:10 p.m. He pushed open the truck door and flipped it closed behind him. The last thing he wanted was for one of the polos to show up and find him watching the place out front. He didn’t need to see how they parked, just find the BDUs when they come into the bar.

  Shooting fish in a barrel.

  Chase stepped into the bar and saw the lone pool table in the corner. The green felted tabletop was enough to justify the owner’s mildly clever bar name—Corner Pocket Bar. If there were a deck of cards on the wooden bar, he could switch the name to the Corner Pocket Casino.

  The bar was narrow and long. The pool table sat between the end of the bar and the bathrooms signs in the back. The area between the barstools and the wall could barely fit two men standing side-by-side, as long as one man was medium build.

  The bartender noticed Chase’s entrance and waited for him to choose a spot at the bar. Two men in their upper-70s were sitting at the counter just inside the door to the bar. They looked as if their thirst stopped them as soon as they walked into the bar, picking their spots the shortest distance from the door to their stools. They ignored Chase’s entry, and the way they both cupped the sides of their beer mugs with both hands, they didn’t care.

  Chase looked back to the bartender and nodded toward the end of the bar, closest to the pool table.

  The bartender asked, “What’ll you have?”

  “Anything on tap will do. Whichever tap handle is closest to you.”

  Chase walked to the end of the bar and turned the corner. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and plopped down on the very last stool before tossing the bill on the bar.