As the heat of the mid-afternoon baked the structures and inhabitants of the county, a small group of contractors finished up their detail along side a lonely stretch of country road. The group had been dispatched by the Troopers to do a routine patrol of a remote area of the country. As usual the contractors got the short end of the stick and pulled the grunt duty.

That’s how it had been since the Troopers had come to town. The contractors had been relegated to second fiddle and did most of the heavy lifting and unpleasant tasks. Lehman had little regard for building unity between his Troopers and the contractors. The best of the contractors were invited to join the State Troopers while the cast offs were relegated to support roles and other menial tasks. Nearly all of the contractors offered a slot in the State Trooper’s ranks took the opportunity.

As the small group of contractors finished up their assignment they returned to their truck to take a breather and hydrate. As they took turns downing the icy cold water, and in some cases pouring it over their shirts, the contractors slowly began to feel refreshed. The exertion of the patrol, combined with their uniforms and gear wreaked a physical toll on the men and it had started to show.

“Can you believe we got handed another shit detail?” exclaimed one contractor between long gulps of water.

One of his equally frustrated coworkers agreed. “I knew we were in for it when those Troopers rode into town. I heard from some guys with other companies that worked with the Troopers and said they were fine, but for the most part they are pricks.”

A third one, suddenly engrossed in the impromptu bitch session chimed in. “Yea, they turned me down for a slot with them. No interview, no PT test. Nothing.”

The griping continued, and the men slowly started emerging from the fog of being overheated but it was too late. Situational awareness had been lost.

Before any could react, rifle rounds tore into their bodies in one coordinated volley of fire. What rounds didn’t rip through their bodies pieced holes in the side of their truck. It was over before it started really. One second four men stood chatting, the next, their bodies lay dieing on a sun-baked roadway.

It would be the lack of radio call-in that would alert headquarters that something was wrong. It would be the plume of black smoke from the burnt-out truck that would guide the Troopers to the remains of the four men.

****

“What’s got you bothered son,” asked the elderly man as Miller stumped around the kitchen of farmhouse.

“Something’s not right” was the only reply Miller could muster as he poured an ice tea. Sweat quickly formed on the cold surface of the glass.

Greg Donner, and his daughter Clarissa, had operated ClarMar Farms for years. Everybody laughed when Clarissa expressed an interest in running the place, but she displayed a surprising acumen both at managing a farm and running a business. Within ten years the farm was one of the biggest employers in the area and well respected throughout the community.

The farm was sprawling and had ventures of all types, from cattle to corn, from hogs to honey. There was a greenhouse operation throughout the summer and in the fall haunted hay rides. Clarissa was willing to try anything and they had their fingers in a lot of sources of income.

Being such a large and respected outfit provided ClarMar a modicum of protection against the contractors. Previous contracting firms that ran the county had left them alone for fear of upsetting the local population. That protection had begun to evaporate with the arrival of the State Troopers.

It appeared past events in the county had awakened the darker side of Senator Donovan and he took a special interest in quelling the growing problems in the area.

Clarissa Donner was as shrewd as she was beautiful. ClarMar had always been a large and popular employer. In the past few months, however, she used the farms clout to make the case to Donovan’s people that ClarMar was an important enough to be granted exemptions to many of the rules he had put in place for businesses. He was trying to balance keeping an economy going with exerting control over the production of various goods. He was also trying to push certain businesses to produce materials that would be of benefit if the Southern District became embroiled in a longer-term conflict.

Her case to those in power was simple. ClarMar could be a source of influence for the Donovan’s people and help stabilize the economy in an already depressed area. Otherwise she would be forced to scale back operations and lay off people and they would not be happy with one Miles Donovan. As was often the case, Clarissa drove a hard bargain. She secured many exemptions that allowed her to operate the farm with less oversight and keep the State Troopers and contractors at bay. It was a form of protection.

It also didn’t hurt that Donovan was smitten with Clarissa Donner.

Whistling softly the older man replied, “pretty vague”.

Shaking his head Miller only replied, “just a gut feeling. The Troopers at the check point backed off the second they heard ClarMar farms”.

”Seems normal”.

“Not really,” Miller responded. “Usually there’s a few more questions. A little more busting of chops.” Miller sipped the tea and replayed the day’s events in his mind.

“Did you get what you went to Shelton for?” asked Greg.

Nodding affirmatively, Miller thought about the contents of the thumbdrive. He wanted to see what the latest haul of documents would provide.