2008-8-7 09:48:00
by Ted Dewey
The three men stepped inside the tent. It was about thirty-feet square and had a large steel pole in the center which supported the roof.
Over to one side were several card tables and folding chairs. Several beds were scattered about the room. On the far side was a wood stove used for cooking and for warming up the room in the chill of the morning.
"Not much to look at," Rodney told them, "but we can manage here until we can build something better." He walked over to one of the tables, laid down the binoculars, then turned to Henry and Oran.
"Sit down gentlemen. Before we start talking shop," he said, "there is something else. Did you know that you were being followed when you came in today?"
Henry and Oran exchanged glances. They shook their heads. "From where we were sitting it was impossible to see anything back of us." Thomas told him. "Did you spot something?"
Rodney Goldsmith nodded. "When I heard the chopper coming I picked up my binoculars and stepped outside. I focused them on the big machine; and got a good look at it alright and there was something else -- a small, black and yellow plane was above and back of you. And it stayed right there until you started to descend. Then it took off."
Henry turned to Oran Thomas. "You don't suppose that it could of been...?"
Thomas nodded. "I would bet most anything it was. " He turned to Rodney. "A couple of guys came to see Henry. They claimed to be friends of mine and said they were working for the company. Their names were Baker and Phillips. At least that is what they said. I didn't know them so I called the head office and reported the incident. No one there knew them and they weren't working for the company."
There was a thoughtful look on Rodney's face. He turned to Henry. "I would sure like to know who they were. Can you give me a description of these two fellows?"
Henry closed his eyes for a moment. He could see those two faces right in front of him. It would be hard for him to give a good description of the pair but he could sure draw a picture of them. There were several sheets of paper lying on the table. Henry picked up two of them. "Mind if I borrow these for a few minutes?"
Rodney was puzzled. "Help yourself."
Henry reached inside a shirt pocket and came out with the stub of a pencil. Then this jack-of-all-trades; the inventor, the machinist, and the artist went to work.
Rodney Goldsmith stared in amazement as the face began to take shape. Henry made a few more light strokes with the pencil and laid it down on the table. Then across the bottom he wrote the name. Ira Baker.
Rodney Goldsmith stared in amazement. "Good Lord," he muttered. "Frank Poletti!"
Rodney got to his feet and began pacing back and forth in front of the table.
"And just who," Thomas asked, "is Frank Poletti?"
Rodney stopped and pointed down at the picture. "That," he said, "is a picture of the dirty bastard. He is an underworld character that is mixed up in a lot of crooked deals. Everything from gun smuggling to selling dope to school kids. I could never understand how he manages to keep out of jail."
"Do you know him personally?" Thomas asked.
"No, but I have seen him a number of times." He leaned over the table and pointed at the second picture that was almost finished.
"And that." he said. "Is his body guard, hitman, and henchman. He can't say a word -- got his tongue cut out when he was just a kid. Silent Louie they call him."
"What do you think they are up too?" Thomas asked.
"I sure don't know. He is a rich son of a bitch, and I would bet that he tried to get into our organization; got turned down but wont give up. As you know we don't just let everyone in."
Thomas nodded. "I think you have got him figured out. Someone must have given him my name. He has been following me around trying to find out just where we will be located then he will make his move."
"And I think you have made a good guess. So we will keep our eyes open and an ear to he ground. And if we catch him snooping around here we will run him off." He turned to Henry. "Thanks for the pictures. You are a man of many talents and have already proved your worth.
Rodney sat down at the table and for a moment stared at the two pictures which he held in his hand. Suddenly a smile lit up his face. "I just got a bright idea." he said. "Why don't we get a whole bunch of copies made of these. Then tack them on the trees and rocks that surround our territory." The smile broadened. He passed the pictures back to Henry.
"Just one more thing. Right below the pictures print the words... WANTED -- DEAD!"
-- End Of Chapter Nineteen --
Copyright © 2008 by J.J. Dewey, All Rights Reserved