Beyond a Shadow

Big Jim was a bully too. He always got what he wanted; mainly because he was willing to be the loudest voice and most unreasonable asshole in the room. And, since he thought he WAS the law, he sometimes stepped outside the lines. That would eventually come back to bite him.

Janet appeared at that point. Her t-shirt and painted on jeans showcased her voluptuousness. She has gorgeous hazel eyes that sparkle with intelligence and good humor. Right that second, they were sparkling at me. She plopped down opposite and said cheerfully, "Thanks for the fuck baby, and Don't forget the fundraiser tonight."

The Democrats were doing their annual fundraiser for fantastical beasts, adorable kittens and whimsical unicorns; or some-such other liberal cause. I said, "Had it circled on my calendar for weeks. Even rented a tux." It was formal.

I knew that I was the "plus-guest." Janet was the mover and shaker. And she would be the person at the head table with the rest of the great and good. The Dems had made the necessary "charitable contribution," so as to get their star up front. I was just happy to sit with the rest of the riff-raff and bask in her reflected glory.

Personally, I didn't need it. There was far too much backstabbing, kowtowing, phony posturing, and downright sleaze associated with being a politician. I knew my wife sailed above most of the muck. But she occasionally had to roll in it. That's just what politicians do to "get along;" as it were.

There was never any hint of real corruption. It was just that her actions were sometimes slightly amoral. She told me about it, which was technically a problem, since I was a sworn officer of the court. It was petty stuff, like looking the other way when an influential business knowingly violated county zoning regulations.

Since I thought most of those regulations were bullshit anyhow I applauded her "willingness to be flexible." But she HAD been elected on an environmental ticket and some of that contradicted her personal beliefs.

I knew that she was rock solid ethically before she had started her political career. But apparently, she was learning to, "Work together for the greater good," as she put it. That's an infectious disease with politicians.

We arrived together, me in my rented tux and Janet in a ravishing little black dress. Actually, it wasn't the dress that was so striking. It was the body that was stuffed in it.

She did the usual noblesse oblige with me. You know what I'm talking about. She was itching to get up to the main table. But, she couldn't just blow off her husband. So, she hastily introduced me to a few of the lesser mortals and then hustled off to join the "somebodies" at the front.

I didn't mind. She liked the limelight and I didn't.

The folks I met all seemed like nice people. One guy was the local doctor. He'd been in the Army too. We chatted a bit about our service. He was hazy about what he did. But I'm a cop. I could see it in his eyes.

I met a few guys like him in my active service days. That type of dude is steady, level headed and, in most respects, kindhearted and humane. They ALSO just happen to be expert killers.

His wife was gorgeous. She was a nurse and she radiated her husband's aura of superb capability, self-confidence, and strength. She was a Swedish blond, which was not a rare commodity in rural Wisconsin. But she had the sort of Nordic fire and ice sexuality that can get a rise out of any man. There was just something about her obvious strength of character and the way she held that perfect, nubile body that pulled you in like she had her own gravity.

My other table partners were teachers. He was the District's Athletic Director much taller than the rest of us and with the greyhound frame of a runner. I asked him what he played in college, since it was obvious he had competed in something. He said matter-of-fact, "Soccer."

Then he added playfully, "But Penny was the real star. She was a Badger cheerleader and she was engaged to." He named a guy who played for the Packers. I wondered how the dude felt, being a tunnel buddy with an NFL All-Star.

The wife's name was Penny. She worked with Janet at the local elementary school. That was why the whole group was there. Janet can be very persuasive when she is selling tickets.

Like Janet, Penny put new meaning to the term "brick-shit-house." She had auburn hair. But, she had a heart-shaped face with stunning china blue eyes. I thought to myself, "I'll bet this woman is super-hot." I don't want to disillusion you, girls. But men carry that scorecard around in our heads everywhere we go.

Penny was glaring daggers at her husband. She said, "Jake likes to tease me. I could have a loving marriage with a perfect man. Or I could spend my life wondering who my husband was sleeping with. The choice wasn't hard to make." I thought to myself, 'Hot AND with genuine values."

It was a pleasant evening. Janet was the star of the show. Her stemwinding speech about wetland preservation had all the nature lovers on their feet. That included my asshole boss, who had about as much sensitivity to the environment as a strip mining company. Janet acknowledged the cheers with the glowing demeanor of a true politico. The girl was a natural.

After the speeches, we mixed for cocktails. It was time for me to be at my wife's side, acknowledging my luck at being married to such a "visionary woman;" their words, not mine. Unfortunately, Janet was standing in a group that included Big Jim.

I have to deal with that rectum all week. So, I thought I'd hang with my new friends and let Janet wheel and deal on her own. I knew she would come to me when she was finished.

Janet seemed to be doing a couple of odd things as I watched her socialize. Why did I notice them? I'm a detective. I detect stuff.

First, she was getting smashed. That was a new wrinkle. Lately she had been drinking more. I didn't know why she was doing it. It was almost like she was anesthetizing herself. That was strange, since we had a great life.

The second and most eye-opening thing, was that Big Jim was monopolizing her time. The entire County Board was standing in a herd talking and laughing. Jim was hanging around that group because he never misses the opportunity to brownnose.

He was telling one of his off-color jokes. How did I know it was off color? Because, Big Jim was telling it. The whole group chuckled uneasily, except Janet. She laid her head back and gave the asshole a full-throated laugh. Then she put her hand on his arm.

In the time we had been together I had seen that gesture thousands, maybe millions of times. But this was something different. Maybe her hand lingered a fraction too long. Or, maybe it was the look in her eye. But I knew that it was something that I had to investigate, if nothing more than to ease my suddenly troubled mind.

I think it was the abrupt change in attitude that caused my unease. I had never heard Janet say a good word about Big Jim. That's because culturally, he was as far on the other end of the human spectrum as you could get. Janet was smart, caring and generous. Jim was the most aggressively self-righteous yokel on the planet.

Both Jim and Janet were icons to their own constituencies. It was just that they represented polar opposite groups. Janet was educated and socially aware. Big Jim had built his public image around his ignorant and narrow-minded attitudes, and he never missed the chance to brag about it. It was like being "King of the Great American Underclass" was a badge of honor for him.

Janet had made it clear that she thought that Jim was embarrassing. That was the reason why her touching him in an overfriendly way immediately drew my attention.

There was nothing overtly sexual. It was just so out of character. It wasn't like I could confront her about laying a hand on Big Jim. That would have made me sound insanely paranoid. But I DID file it away under the heading of, "To be looked-into." I'm a cop. We file a lot of stuff for future reference.

Janet was absolutely ravenous when we got home, and I don't mean she wanted to eat. Well, she wanted to eat something. I ate something too and we fucked in novel ways. I know the drinking loosened her up. But it was like she was working something out of her system.

*****

A gentleman called a couple of weeks later. He asked if we could meet at the local diner. I told him to come in to the Sheriff's Office. Since, having coffee with strange dudes who call from out of the blue did not fall under the heading of "proper procedure."

The caller added, "I really think you need to talk to me Senior Special Agent Schwartzwalder."

THAT got my undivided attention. Whoever this was had just used my Army title. I had not been called that in over six years. So, this was probably somebody from my past life. I said tersely, "Meet me at the Hot Spot in a half hour."

The Hot Spot is in the next town, which is like across the street in rural Wisconsin. It is legendary for good food, and atmosphere. The guy sitting at the two-top in the back, stood out like an ostrich at a turkey farm. He just screamed Fed. The locals were eyeing him like he was a zoo animal.

I sat down warily. He was tall and gaunt with the classic uniform, cheap suit, wrinkled white shirt and partially undone tie. He somberly checked me out and said, "What I'm about to tell you is part of a Federal investigation. You may be subject to prosecution if you reveal anything. Should I continue?"

That was a little disturbing. I've been right to the top of the mountain in the federal clearance space and so the threat wasn't THAT intimidating. But this was small town Wisconsin, not the CIA. I couldn't imagine what he had to say.

He was staring back to me with arched eyebrows. I finally said, "Okay, fire-away. I understand the consequences,"

He said, "I'll need you to sign this," and produced a document. I signed. I was committed now.

He said, "My name is Barnestaple and I'm with the FBI." He produced the credential. That was a laugh. The Feebies have their own special look. I wondered if the stick up Barnestaple's ass was installed when he graduated from Quantico?

He said, "We checked you out before we contacted you. We know you were a hotshot with Army CIS and we know that you are currently number two in the County Sheriff's Office."

I said, "There are only nine of us so that's no big deal."

He looked at me seriously, and said, "Are you familiar with the Leptis trucking facility?"

I said, "Of course, my wife was one of the people who had to approve the easement. She's a major tree hugger and there were some environmental issues with the trucks and traffic going in and out of there."

He said, "How does your wife feel about drugs?"

I didn't think I'd heard him right. My brain was processing the concept of Janet and drugs. It came back with, "Error 404 -- Not Found!" I spluttered, "What the fuck are you trying to say??! Janet would NEVER be involved in something as stupid as that!!"

I realized I had just implied that she might be interested in something LESS stupid, but I think he got the gist. He said, "We've been surveilling James Moore for the past three months. We have evidence that he is running a distribution network for opioids coming into the U.S. from Canada."

Canada? that didn't make sense?? I said, "Wrong border buddy. Aren't you talking about Mexico?"

Barnestaple looked pained and said, "Nobody thinks the Canadian border is a threat, whereas Mexico is a political talking point. The Border with Canada is four thousand miles of very hard to observe, tree covered terrain. Whereas, the Mexican border is a mere two thousand miles of easy to watch desert, and the U.S. Border Patrol is sitting on every inch of it."

He poured a little more sugar into his coffee and said mildly, "So, which border would you pick if you wanted to run shit into the U.S.?"

I thought about it. He had a point. There is nothing but miles of trees and mountains on the Canadian border, with no major river barriers in the stretch from the Great Lakes to the West Coast. There had to be some observation. But there was no way to prevent a person who knew his way around from walking from one country to another, or four wheeling, or snowmobiling, or even driving an 18-wheeler through the Fort Fisher Border crossing.

When it's minus-two outside and the snow is up to your ass, inspecting trucks in the middle of nowhere isn't the same vibe that you get when you're working the Reynosa, or Tijuana border crossing. It got my cop instinct cooking.

I said, "Okay, let's say it's possible that some dude in Moose Jaw is trying to flood the market with home cooked Fentanyl, or Demerol, or whatever. Why would they choose our hick County?"

Barnestaple laughed and said, "That's the point. Your County is perhaps the least obvious place in the universe for a major drug operation. So, if you wanted to stay off law enforcement's radar would you set up shop here, or in Chicago?"

Then he added ominously, "And, if the hillbilly Sheriff in that hick County is one of the main cogs in the network, then WHY NOT? It's a straight shot down 53 from Canada and even if there wasn't much product on the truck when it exited border control, there is a lot of surrounding forest where couriers can load up a 60-foot trailer."

He added by way of explanation, "The FBI got called because the drugs are coming in from another Country and moving across State lines. It's the same situation with folks running coke, or smack in from SOUTH of the border."

I mused to myself, "Hmmm, the Feebs think Big Jim's dirty? How delightful!!"

It didn't surprise me. I knew that the dude thought that he was untouchable, and I also knew that he didn't have a moral, or ethical bone in his body. But why was Barnestaple talking to me?

I said, "Okay, I buy your premise. But, why am I involved?"

Barnestaple stirred his coffee and said with studied casualness, "That oughta be obvious. The FBI is national. We don't just storm into local jurisdictions. That's very bad optics. The press views things a lot more sympathetically if we are seen as working with the locals."

That made sense. The FBI isn't any LESS political than the rest of the apparatus in DC.

He took a sip and said, "We've backgrounded you, including your Army records. We've also done a bit of intensive combing through your personal info. We know you are exactly what you're advertised, and we need you to run point on this."

I said, "Let me get this straight. You have already done your investigative due diligence and you think you have the evidence to indict Big Jim and other players in his scheme -- correct?" Barnestaple nodded.

I continued with, "And since I am home-grown law-enforcement, you want to make it look like you were coordinating with local cops all along - right?" Barnestaple nodded again.

I said, "THEN when the hammer drops you want me to serve as the resident center-of-gravity while all of the pieces hit the ground. Does that about sum it up?" Barnestaple nodded.

I wondered if enigmatic nodding was a course at Quantico.

I said, "Then I'm going to need you to put something on the record to confirm that arrangement. Since, I am fishing in deep water here."

I added grimly, "If Jim is involved, my guess is that half the Sheriff's Department and some of County Government was also neck deep in the Kim-Chi. And anybody poking around, like you're asking me to do, could find themselves out of a job, or seriously dead."

Barnestaple said, "We'll document all of this for you. But, that's not the problem. The REAL problem is that this is a complex tactical challenge. You can actually help us there."

He said, conspiratorially, "This is an international ring and we only know who the main players are. We have to get every member of the network, or they'll scatter and just rebuild after we've left. So, we want the local cops to help us sort it out."

He laughed and said sardonically, "But, we can't approach your boss, since he's the main player."

Barnestaple took another sip and added, "So far, all of our evidence has been gathered electronically, or through surveillance of the trucks via Global Hawk."

He flashed me the square-jawed, forthright look that all Feebs learn in Feeb school and said, "We need boots-on-the-ground and that's you. We can do the actual bust. But we need to have an advance scout, so-to-speak; somebody who knows the territory and call us in at the right moment."

I said, "You already have Big Jim in the net - right? So, who else do you have locally?"

Barnestaple said, "We've got Esau Holmes, he owns Leptis and he has major Mob connections down in Chicago."

That was interesting. I thought that the guys who were mobbed up were all Italian. Holmes was in his sixties and he looked like the guy with the pitchfork in American Gothic. However, he WAS a big pal and political crony of Jim's.

I said, "Who else?"

Barnestaple said, "Those two are the major players. The trucking company does legitimate business and most of the employees seem to be nothing but innocent bystanders. The people we are interested in do the exchanges in the middle of the night, they call themselves the 'knight shift' -- get it?"

I gave him my, "Really??!!" look.

Barnestaple continued with, "Leptis is the delivery point for the small suppliers in the Upper Midwest. It would be a bit too obvious to have a semi pull up at a local bar in BFE and start unloading crates of pills. So, they run small shipments, in pickups, and vans, out to Wisconsin, Minnesota and the Dakotas. That's where the shit actually gets sold."

He added, "The Leptis facility is the hub of the network. It's where they break the load into packages for transport into the sticks. So, when a shipment comes in it's the only time they're all in one place."

Barnestaple looked frustrated as he said, "We have ironclad proof that will put away the big players. But we want the whole network. We can act, once we know that everybody is in the bag. That's where you come in."

*****

Hence, a couple of weeks later I was sitting in the woods outside Leptis trucking. The word from Barnestaple was that a shipment was due. So, I told Janet that I was working on a case in Eau Claire and that I would be gone overnight. I didn't want to worry her.

She gave me a rousing send-off. It was a spectacular night of sex, even by Janet's exacting standards.

The FBI doesn't like to muck around in the woods in the middle of the night. It messes up their gleaming white shirts. Plus, that was what they had the local peasantry for. SO, it was just little-old-me out there; fending off the swarms of Wisconsin black-flies. Those things are as big as vampire bats and a lot more blood-thirsty, which, no doubt, explained why the Feebies wanted ME to do it.

It was 3 AM. The Leptis building was locked down tight. It was set back in the woods off Wisconsin-10, and only approachable by a single paved access road. Right on time, Holmes's big Cadillac XTS slowly made its way up the road and stopped at the gate.

He got out and entered the code that opened the gates. Then he got back in and drove down to the facility. He went in the building and the outside lights went on. Then, the big metal doors retracted.

The pickups and vans began to arrive. I heard a diesel chugging its way up the road and a tractor trailer went past. I followed it in the shadow of the woods. It pulled up to the loading dock.

I recognized most of the people doing the unloading. They were my colleagues in the Sheriff's Office. The people who had arrived in the pickups and vans were strangers. That made sense. These were the dealers.

I had a low-light Nikon DS with a telephoto lens. I recorded the coming and going. Those pictures would tie a neat bow around the investigation, and there would be indictments for the house tonight.