The Manifest

Chapter 36

     The two men sitting in the black ford had much better things to do on a Monday morning, but there they were. Hidden from view by the tinted windows, they sat there drinking coffee and munching on bagels while watching the house like they had been doing all week. They were the morning shift, the crew that took over just after the sun came up and went home nine to ten hours later just in time for supper. The didn't like doing this kind of grunt work, but the boss paid them overtime rate for it because he understood what kind of work it was. The money was good to begin with so they guys did their job and kept their comments to themselves and took the extra green. Between sips the guys talked shop among other things to pass the time, but sometimes it was hard to keep awake but that's what the caffeine and sugar products were for. To help them get through the long mornings.

     "Seriously Allen, I don't know why we're even here." one of them said while taking a big bite out of his onion bagel, "Mrs. Johnson is one of the best in the program. She doesn't try to run, and the one time she did leave, she asked for permission from Angela. There's no way she's going to run on us, she's awesome."

     "Shut your face, Davis." Allen muttered from behind the wheel, "She left without consent from Mr. Carlson and that's why we're here. So quit your bitching and just eat your donut."

     "It's a bagel." Davis said as he took another bite, "I'm not allowed to have donuts. Wife says they are too fattening for me."

     "Like that bagel is any better." his partner responded as he took a sip of his own coffee. The two of them sat there and said nothing for a while. Allen was never really one to talk too much, and Davis had a habit of trying to talk his ear off with stupid questions about everything. Today was going to be no different.

     "I have a question for you." Davis started up again while sipping his own coffee, "Technically we work for the government, right?"

     "That's right." Allen said, trying to resist an urge to break his partner's nose.

     "But our own government doesn't know anything about us or this project." Davis stated somewhat confused, "How can we work for someone who doesn't even know we exist?"

     "There are some people in the government who know, jackass." Allen snapped back with little patience, "They are the ones who approve our budget that provide us with our living. This was approved from high up."

     "How high up are we talking here?" Davis asked, rather curious.

     "I honestly don't know." Allen replied, "The only person who knows what officials are in charge is Mr. Carlson. He gets his orders from them and they are likely connected to every branch of the government, probably connected right to the frakin' top."

     "Do you think the President knows about this?" Davis asked.

     "In order for that to be true the President would be required to have a clue, which he doesn't. We all know who's really in charge up there. The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be." Allen took another big sip of his coffee. He loved to down the thing while it was still hot enough to scald you. Anything less was too cold for his liking.

     "But doesn't it make you a little curious?" Davis asked, " I mean wouldn't you like to know who authorized all this and made it happen?"

     "We're not paid to be curious." Allen reminded him, "I really wish you'd get off this crap, because it will only get you into trouble with the top brass. You make a good living, enjoy that and use it to raise that beautiful family of yours."

     "I know." Davis replied, completely understanding what Allen was saying, "I was just trying to pass the time. What do you prefer to talk about?" he asked eager to talk about anything.

     "Sports works for me." Allen retorted, "We can always converse about how your Cowboys got stomped out like a Narc at a biker rally."

     "Not really." Davis said, somewhat hurt when reminded about how poorly his team played that week.

     "Calm down, they might still make the playoffs." Allen said with a grin. He loved teasing the guy about his team, especially when they lost as badly as they had the night before.

     Davis never responded to Allen's last comment. He was watching a priority delivery truck that had just parked across the street from the target. At first he assumed the person was there to deliver the box to the house it had parked in front of, but when the delivery man crossed the street, he tapped Allen on the shoulder.

     "What the hell is that?" Davis asked.

     "That's just a package boy." Allen snapped back with a hint of sarcasm, "You get mail, don't you?"

     "I do, but she isn't supposed to." Davis said as he pointed out the fact that the delivery man was going to Mrs. Johnson's house, "All of her mail is screened, there is no way someone gets this far with anything. We're supposed to approve and deliver everything after it's screened."

     "That's true, which would mean..." Allen said trying to see where he was going with this.

     "Well." Davis started, "That means either this moron is hitting the wrong house or he's an imposter trying to make contact with our resident!"

     It took a few seconds for it to dawn on Allen to what Davis was saying and he looked up at the package boy who was now knocking on Mrs. Johnson's door.

     "Son of a bitch!" he cursed as he started to open the door.

     "Should we call in for backup?" Davis called as he opened his door.

     "No time!" Allen called as he started to run, "Let's move!" The two men scrambled out of the car, and raced onto the front lawn. Once they got within fifteen feet, they pointed their side arms at the postage boy who was already speaking to Mrs. Johnson at the door.

     "Freeze!" Allen screamed as loud as he could.

     "Put your hands on your head and drop to your fucking knees!" Davis called as he also had his sidearm raised and ready to shoot.

     They expected a fight, but they were both surprised to see that the man was fully cooperative with them. He slowly raised his hands and placed them on his head. Then he slowly began to kneel, showing no signs of any resistance. This lack of fight gave Davis the impression that might have just been an innocent mistake. Maybe it was a package boy who had the wrong house and wasn't there to see Mrs. Johnson. Yet as Davis was reaching for his cuffs, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. By the time he turned around to see what it was, it was already too late.