Karmic Justice

By Louis Porter

Louis Porter born in Bangor Maine, back when
the economic conditions were such that both
parents were forced to work to survive as a family.
The entire family moved to Skowhegan, Maine
where I could fi nish high school. At an early age
of seventeen, I joined the Merchant Marines and
sailed on cargo ships to many European and South
America ports over a two year period, married
and enlisted in the U.S. Navy Air Force based in
Corpus Christi Texas. Completed college work at
Texas A&M with honors in Petroleum Engineering. Went to work with
ARCO as a petroleum engineer and handled sales of the companys oil
and gas products.
Later, I formed Daleo Petroleum and began building underground storages
to handle sales, storage facilities and set up pipeline distribution of all
liquid gases like ethane & propane for Mid-America Pipeline. We were
fi rst to put propane on the Chicago Cotton Exchange as a commodity. I
became Bch & CEO of three separate public companies dealing in Rare
Earth, Gold Mining, Drilling for oil in Canada and the United States.
Brought President Ford to Canada for company meetings and traveled all
over North & South America & Europe for business, hunting and fi shing.
Beat President Ford out of $14 playing gin and made him sign the bills.
I bagged a grizzly bear in British Columbia and caught many sail fi sh off
Baja. Wrote & sold 5 novels over the internet as E-Books twenty
five yrs. ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479796007

Louis Porter

Louis Porter born in Bangor Maine, back when the economic conditions were such that both parents were forced to work to survive as a family. The entire family moved to Skowhegan, Maine where I could finish high school. At an early age of seventeen, I joined the Merchant Marines and sailed on cargo ships to many European and South America ports over a two year period, married and enlisted in the U.S. Navy Air Force based in Corpus Christi Texas. Completed college work at Texas A&M with honor's in Petroleum Engineering. Went to work with ARCO as a petroleum engineer and handled sales of the company's oil and gas products. Later, I formed Daleo Petroleum and began building underground storages to handle sales, storage facilities and set up pipeline distribution of all liquid gases like ethane & propane for Mid-America Pipeline. We were first to put propane on the Chicago Cotton Exchange as a commodity. I became Bch & CEO of three separate public companies dealing in Rare Earth, Gold Mining, Drilling for oil in Canada and the United States. Brought President Ford to Canada for company meetings and traveled all over North & South America & Europe for business, hunting and fishing. Beat President Ford out of $14 playing gin and made him sign the bills. I bagged a grizzly bear in British Columbia and caught many sail fish off Baja. Wrote & sold 5 novels over the internet as E-Books twenty five yrs. ago.

Book preview

KARMIC JUSTICE

Louis Porter

Copyright © 2013 by Louis Porter.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013902833

ISBN:

   Hardcover   978-1-4797-9599-4

   Softcover    978-1-4797-9598-7

   Ebook         978-1-4797-9600-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/13/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

129984

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 1

Damn it honey jump over there, quickly now, that line is three cars shorter than this one and I’ve got to get to the office. These were typical kinds of remarks that suddenly became the Talk of the day. All over the United States gasoline supply was extremely scarce. Local stations in Oklahoma had just been severely rationed again. Things were weird for two reasons. Gasoline prices shot sky high over night and there was a severe turmoil caused by the closely contested and very questionable Presidential elections. Finding a gas station with gas caused everyone to believe the scarcity was fostered by the OPEC Cartel to make people panic and seemingly with the new President’s permission.

The newly elected top leaders quickly added a new breed of people into the oval office staffs to handle the deal. The OPEC Nations were blamed for price fixing and taking advantage of the situation quickly before the world knew what hit it. With the newly elected leadership,who quickly saw a financial advantage pop open to them. Meanwhile, they had OPEC as a scapegoat falsifying a world wide oil shortage and had them place a partial embargo of OPEC’s shipments to the United States. America desperate needed the crude oil to refine into gasoline, diesel and just fill the wide gap in lagging local production.

A group of these unscrupulous Tulsa politicians found them selves in a unique position to take advantage of the utter confusion generated by the government’s constantly changing price regulations. The new regime’s price control measures were hastily established to try to stop these upward spiraling oil prices. An unholy arrangement was made between three of the new Presidential staff in Washington and a powerful Tulsa Law Firm in who could get away with committing murder when they had to. Their next step was to stampede an international public company led by a self made millionaire for their own illegal profits.

Alexander Powers is the wealthy oil man who takes on the crooked governmental leaders, their co-harts in Washington and local judicial leaders on the way to proving his own innocence and restore his belief in true American Justice. Powers falls in love for the first time during this quest for the resumption of social and Karmic Justice. He believed our government was basically honest and it was only the devious people in the driver’s seat that made the difference.

Scenes shift from his beautiful new yacht in Newport Beach to the truly magnificent places of the world like New York City, Canada, Middle East, Mexico, Haiti, Paris and the affluent Newport Beach California areas. There are multiple murders, a touch of the Mafia and ample passion filled sex.

*     *     *

The honorable Joshua Franklyn was sprawled out like a lazy Siamese cat resting across his well-used brown leather chair. His chubby legs were barely grabbing a small portion of the matching ottoman that he managed somehow to keep sacredly over forty years of marriage. Deep thoughts filled his normally agile mind as he shifted positions slightly and that move forced him to stare absent-mindedly out the oriel window with its myriad of small panes of leaded glass. As his thinking progressed he began to hum at a faster pace, but on a much lower key than usual as he quietly gazed without really seeing the other plush mansions surrounding his own castle. He couldn’t help wondering about the whole Alexander Powers affair and how deeply rooted in governmental intrigue it appeared to be. The what’s and whys of the puzzling matter were tugging very heavily at his tired brain. Worrying wasn’t one of his specialties because he was more of a do it type of animal. It was just that somehow this particular problem was drastically different than the norm. His deep-seated Libra type of blue-gray eyes noted that it was a typically lazy Sunday afternoon in the suburbs. The sun was shining brightly through the thick prism like panes of glass from a beautiful azure sky after another cleansing overnight rain. Joshua knew that the ESPN sports channel prevailed on the gigantic televisions in half the mansions in the area on weekends and the very popular local delicatessen would soon make its scheduled back door deliveries of pizza & Buffalo wings to one and all. Joshua didn’t want to cook just for himself since he was alone for the entire holiday weekend, so he had ordered the usual goat cheese and black olive pizza and then sat down heavily to concentrate the best he could on his present dilemma. Shortly after Rizzoni’s service wagon left the area Joshua Franklyn was laying spread out on the blue and tan tiled floor in the kitchen with blood oozing slowly from his graying temple.

Less than five minutes later a series of three explosions were heard all over the exclusive residential suburb of Washington DC as it went blam, blam, blam with its partially muffled noise subdued somewhat by the large distances between the magnificent estates. The sky turned black and was instantly filled with terrifying sheets of intensely red flames rapidly climbing upward. Tucked within the heavy black smoke were splintered pieces of a former house raining over the entire area. Every tennis court and pool in the exclusive subdivision would have to be scoured before normal life could resume.

Moments later there was a flood of official looking emergency vehicles flying back and forth from the flaming wreckage with their cellular phones beeping out cryptic messages in several languages. Security Officials of all types checked and rechecked the surrounding area for foul play of any kind because the exclusive subdivision was well populated with important figures attached to the United States government. The guard shack at the entrance to the subdivision was quickly manned by sharpshooters from the FBI and their counterpart Treasury Agents moved like swarms of honey-bees looking for their Queen.

Alert authorities quickly determined that it wasn’t a terrorist attack as it was first suspected and quickly filtered that covert knowledge bit by bit to the piranha like news media frothing at the mouth. The mammoth white structure on the corner housing the Joshua Franklyn family in the past was totally destroyed. It looked as if they were but one massive unit as all the top members of six different security organizations delivered a mutual diagnosis of an accidental gas leak as the cause. Mr. Franklyn was the long term Director of the United States Department of Energy and determined to have been at home alone during the blast. His family was deemed to be very fortunate because they were away on vacation visiting the Cyrus Eaton family at Seal Harbor in the Acadia National Park area of southern Maine.

The newly elected administration jumped on the magic tubes and promised a speedy but thorough investigation of the tragic circumstances surrounding the unusual accident. The President himself delivered the required message to the public on every channel available as they sent out public condolences and a government airplane was made available to spirit the bereaved family back to DC. He announced in his clipped Harvard accent that, Mr. Franklyn will be accorded a State funeral and all flags will be lowered to half mast for the next thirty days. He was a dedicated member of our team and will be sorely missed and next to impossible to replace. However, W. Wesley Wellington will assume the position temporarily until a suitable replacement can be confirmed by Congress.

Meanwhile, back in Tulsa, Oklahoma things were confused and extremely muddled for Franklyn’s old friend and long time cohort, Geoff Davis. Joshua’s old friend was thoroughly disappointed and sadly disillusioned as he sat in front of the seemingly endless mounds of classified government documents compiled by his Tulsa Divisional Office. His eyes flashed upward and he patted the closely cropped balding gray hair in disbelief as he devoured the telegraphic announcement of his friend’s demise. Geoff was a serious, honest to a fault, dedicated worker who took great pride in carrying out his work with top efficiency.

Franklyn and Davis were most often mentioned as a team that was determined to get rid of corruption in public office at all costs. Geoff would miss his old friend very much… . they had started their government work at the same time many years ago.

A certain measure of shame flooded over him as he realized what must be happening to honesty and integrity in the newly elected government. He now knew for sure all he needed to know about his own crusade and could prove fraudulent action if necessary. Geoff realized that he might have to become the only whistle blower associated with the Powers case. He would have to stand up and be counted alone now because Mr. Franklyn couldn’t assist him any longer. It made him sick to his stomach to understand that certain things were being purposely manipulated to suit a powerful someone’s criteria. The national news media may say it was an unfortunate accident, but I know better than that.

It was difficult for him to believe that it had been nearly two months ago Sunday since his in-depth investigation had commenced. Now it was nearly midnight again and he had given up his Dallas Cowboys football game to complete his last task. His tired body ached to the bone forcing one of his old football injuries to become activated again. The pulsating ache ruined what little sleep he had been able to get lately. Geoff Davis felt morally bound to continue the Powers investigation since he was the one who had initially determined the truth of the matter. He tried hard to overcome his personal feelings about the well-disguised intentional deception being perpetuated on an innocent taxpayer. The very thought of it made his blood boil because it was a total disgrace and it cut deeply into his national pride.

The twelve bells bonged out their message on his fancy nautical clock and brought him back to the reality of finishing his tedious job at all costs. Just as quickly his mind wandered back to the entire tragedy once more. He wondered: What’s that infernal noise I keep hearing? Hot Damn, sounds to me that there are other people in this place. Ben has been gone for a half an hour or more. He should have been back by now. How long does it take to get fresh doughnuts and talk to the maintenance people about the confounded electricity not working properly? These darn noises are bad enough, but now the entire lighting system seems to be going haywire. It’s been Off-on, Off-on all evening long. Maybe it’s just me because it’s so very late and then there’s the dang Franklyn deal etc. I’m totally exhausted already. I hate the dark anyway and it’s terribly nerve wracking to be sitting here in this pitch black isolation. Amazing how these old buildings seem to be alive even when there isn’t any movement from the disturbing elements outside the place. Undoubtedly it’s just the silence of the night and the eerie feeling one gets of being watched by a thousand eyes belonging to imaginary killers hiding in the extreme darkness.

His tormented imagination went off-on, off-on in sync with the building’s erratic lighting system. "These sixty year old government buildings with their dried out wooden frames inside a brick facade are all rattletraps. Why shouldn’t they be noisy… . they are older than I am. Forget what the astrologer said about having a fire sign on the eighth house cusp of your horoscope chart. It supposedly meant that the subject would meet a violent death when activated. Hell, all that information, gathered at the arts and craft show yesterday is for suckers who believe in that sort of astrological stuff. Just something to get the believers to part with their twenty dollar retainers for interpreting the computer generated chart.

It’s important to remember that I’m a Christian and have been taught not to worship soothsayers who purport to tell fortunes and worship the devil. My Southern Baptist faith doesn’t leave much room to believe in voodoo or any other of that supernatural stuff. Hell fire… it’s all bunk anyway. He got up from his desk to refill his silver and blue Dallas Cowboy coffee cup for the umpteenth time because the lights had finally come back on for a second or two. This time he would switch to Amaretto flavored cocoa. Maybe it’s the caffeine in that specialty coffee gunk that made him fill to the brim with unsolicited trepidation.

He sipped his new drink at the desk tentatively and went back into his thinking mode and more determined than ever. Tonight should be my last night of the pure grunt work and then I can be ready to put an end to this portion of a miserable and grossly unfair deal. Gosh darn it all, the lights are going off again. Off-on, off-on, off-on and Holy Moses there go those damned infernal noises again. These scraping sounds make it seem as if something is being dragged across the bare floor. Golly darn, it seems that these lights are off more than on. Drat the confounded luck tonight. Good Heavens, now that they are off again, I’ll have to sit here and wait for the maintenance boys to fix them. I’ve got to finish the rest of this stuff tonight. He sighed heavily and shifted his body in the hard seat to a more tolerable position. Ben Arnold, his assistant, would most probably have a difficult time finding his way back to the dingy fourth floor office with the lights off.

Darn, he said to himself. If I hadn’t been so busy trying to interpret those dang irrational rules and regulations, I’ll bet that I would have seen something like this thing coming sooner." The unpredictable lights had come on partially and so he sat down at his messy desk again. Once more he laboriously continued his drive to methodically leaf through his well handled research papers, making several notations as he read and then re-read the same papers to be sure. That Powers bugger was right… he sure was. Geoff managed a crooked grin like smile as he worked diligently onward for another thirty minutes without any interference or distractions. Each paper and cryptic note was steadily becoming another nail being driven into some greedy politician’s coffin.

Geoff Davis sighed despairingly as the lights went out in the inner offices again for the umpteenth time. Even the dang air conditioner had stopped this time around and it was now pitch black and getting extremely stuffy in the little government office on the fourth floor. Must be a complete power failure this time, he said out loud. He noticed that the full moon wasn’t bright enough to afford him any extra light in a center office. Their small emergency generator wasn’t working any longer and his flashlight was still in the trunk of his antiquated automobile. Perspiration had been collecting on his puzzled face and neck areas, causing it to steadily alter the blue color of his dress shirt from light to dark. He decided to be prudent and just stay-put for a minute or two until the proper repairs could be made.

Geoff thought something moved directly behind, so he got up gingerly and edged slowly toward the darkened hallway twenty feet away. Is anyone there? Who is in here? Ben Arnold is that you, don’t you try to scare me… . this isn’t the least bit funny to me. What’s the dang deal anyway.? The building became eerily silent and there wasn’t any answer to his random statement. He suddenly noticed the goose bumps forming on his thighs and back. The noise came back and was making the perspiration on his face to slowly turn into a cold clammy film. He also noticed that there was a strange eerie smell one associates with death slowly filtering into the stuffy office.

The civil servant stood nervously quiet and let his mind wander. Maybe it’s just the maintenance men working on the antiquated electrical system. His thoughts were running helter skelter through his head and nothing made any sense as he stood still for a second or two longer to see if he could discern any other foreign sounds. Then when all seemed deathly quiet again, he reached out for his chair, found it and returned to the messy over crowded desk to wait. He sat down heavily on the make-shift chair pad and thought about his mission and was it worth the suffering he was feeling at the moment.

In a few moments the heavy dragging sounds appeared to be directly behind him. Who’s there? Damn it, this isn’t funny. Who is in here speaking to me, please? However, the sounds got closer and closer to his desk, forcing him to try easing his bulky body off the wooden chair and turn around. Maybe I can get a side wise glance at whatever is making these intrusive sounds behind me if I can silently turn around. At least a glance will tell me what I need to know. Is it real or supernatural? Slowly now, ever so slowly, I must go extremely slow and try to ease myself around so I can see something back there.

However; it was too late because he suddenly felt something cold, hard and steel-like being pressed tightly against his neck. A shivering chill ran down his back and he tried again to turn in his chair to see what was gripping him so tightly. He couldn’t move much because a one armed strangling hold had been efficiently applied to the left side of his neck. The same arm placed a large sweaty hand with a familiar scent of cologne on his face covering his mouth and kept him firmly pinned to the chair. Geoff sagged helplessly as the thoughts of the astrologer’s remarks raced through his mind and made him feel hopelessly lost and scared. The cold hard steel moved quickly up to his right temple, hesitated there for a single moment while Geoff tried ever so desperately to move. Just as he did move a little and a loud roar was heard by no one for a brief moment.

Slowly everything turned a liquid ebony color for Geoff Davis. He sprawled awkwardly face forward on his old wooden desk in a grotesque bloody mess, with copious amounts of blood spattered everywhere like rain drops on an Oklahoma summer storm. A large pool of the sticky stuff began gathering under his head and slowly dripped, drop by drop, to the well worn brown carpeted floor. The chair rolled back slightly which caused his near lifeless body to pitch forward and fall heavily under the kneehole portion of the wooden edifice.

The building was still black when Geoff awoke; he looked around in the dark and felt all the sticky liquid that was congealing around his heavy frame. I’m not dead at least and all seems quiet. Better lay here a minute before I make any noise and they come back. Boy, my neck feels like it’s on fire. Rest quietly Geoff… rest quietly and think. The shot must have been deflected slightly when I moved. I must wait a little while before I even try moving a muscle. It’s quiet except for the buildings normal creaking noises. The would be killers have probably gone by now and then I’ll try once more at standing up a little bit. Better lay here and gather my strength for a little while longer before I get up. He slipped back into his cocoon and slept like the sleep of the living dead.

An hour or two later Geoff Davis partially awakened from the fitful sleep and thought about all his present options, I wish that I hadn’t promised my Washington compatriot that my work would be completed by tomorrow. I know he has told his own superiors in Washington that the records would be finished today. He was a nice guy and a fellow reformer. I would much rather deliver this information on time. I promised and after all it was my doings that caused this dilemma. I’m sure that Joshua’s boss would want these records collected quickly and for me to go forward with the investigation. Since I am the one who found all the proof showing that Mr. Powers is right and we were dead wrong. I feel morally pushed to finish this thing up tonight. Just gotta do it now. Oops, that hurts, can’t get up just yet.

The lights flipped back on, he looked around the tiny office and couldn’t see anyone. Whoever that was… . has probably gone. He would sing to himself for comfort and wait a little longer before he tried getting on his feet.

Nearer my Lord to thee—near-r-er my God to thee. Geoff tried to sing aloud, but couldn’t because the words were coming out all wrong and getting stuck deep in his throat. Geoff felt himself choking slightly from all the blood slowly filling his throat because it was beginning to seriously restrict his intake of air.

There it is again. Hot darn, those damn noises are getting much closer again. These robbers must be looking for something on the desk. Lordy am I awake or dreaming, the lights are off again. As he lay there looking toward the restrooms, his thoughts digressed for a moment to odd items. The local DOE group had complied with the required regulations; there were two of them now, by divine sanction. A legal his and her toilet, except there wasn’t any her in their office space, only two hims. No woman would have considered working in this dusty paper cluttered windowless hellhole, regardless of thoughts of special pay. These extra bathrooms were another total waste of taxpayer’s money. He felt tremendously annoyed over the governmental waste as if they had spent his personal money on them. Then snickered silently to himself at his observations forming under such strange circumstances.

The noise over by the restrooms was getting louder and he thought about singing a few more of his gospel songs to himself. He recalled how they had let him join the choir at Trinity Baptist even though he couldn’t carry a tune in a wooden box. It was duly noted that the choirmaster had been careful to surround him with the better singers. Two tenors and a baritone were placed next to his chair because they couldn’t locate his exact voice range. What to hell do I care… so I can’t sing very well… . I love it a whole bunch and I try very hard to sing well. The church hierarchy probably thought it was what made me give more than just a tithe and besides, I am always punctual at all their functions.

Except for tonight and the pressure of the last two weeks generated by his finds, this government position was great. They all thought it was a good job in a neat little southwestern city. Darn shame that this Alexander Powers thing had to happen and the government’s public position of a few crooked scoundrels.

Hot darn… . there go those crazy lights again. Suddenly it’s pitch black in here again and you can’t see your hand in front of your face. All his past fears came rushing back to him. The astrologer who called him after the regular working hours to warn him of some impending danger just wanted another twenty dollars. I was nice and told him that I would be extra careful tonight anyway. I was never a worrywart as a general rule, but the man’s forecast did seem a lot stronger on this particular evening. A person certainly couldn’t ignore his unsolicited prediction of death completely. My head throbs to the high Heavens and it’s really becoming terribly hot and humid in here. He forced himself once more to sing some church gospel songs under his breath to help ward off some of the nervousness. My savior to thee… I… pledge… . My soul… to thee I sing.

Geoff Davis tried valiantly to suck up some latent power and courage from somewhere and still the erratic movements of his racing heart. Darn it, I’m not going to die, they can’t do this to me. Why would anyone try to hurt me? Hell, I’m just a lowly under paid civil servant. I must get my mind back on the present problem. We must stop this unjust persecution of Mr. Powers. What about Franklyn’s strange accident." He had been amazed at what he uncovered as he worked late these past few evenings. The deeper he probed into the mysterious intrigue, the more research he was forced to do to prove up the findings.

He had uncovered many interesting things in the last few days, as he looked at the ever changing and very confusing governmental records concerning Mr. Alexander Powers. Geoff Davis was a CPA with a minor in Oil & Gas Management, which dealt with leases, surface rights, royalty interests, overrides and the like. That was how he had ended up as the headman with a newly formed Tulsa Division of the Department of Energy. He had diligently worked for the government in various minor positions ever since graduation, which was many, many years ago, in fact too long he thought.

Davis was very familiar with Plexico since their accountants and attorneys periodically checked things with his office. He knew of Mr. Powers because he was an influential man in the city, but only had the pleasure of meeting him personally about a month ago. He had enjoyed the luncheon with Mr. Powers, who he could easily see had a very active mind and quick wit. As a matter of fact, he had liked everything about him.

He knew that Alexander Powers became a self-made multi-millionaire who started without family wealth or any other initial help and still amassed a sizable fortune while most people bitched about tougher times. Geoff Davis appreciated the fact that Alexander Powers had given a lot of himself and his money back to the general community and the less fortunate. He knew that Mr. Powers always preferred to do it behind the scenes without all the pomp and circumstance that most rich people seemed to want. Nothing in the town was named after him by his own choice and design. He truly respected and admired this generous man who had come to him and asked for his help in sorting out the tangled government rules.

Geoff also knew that the Department of Energy’s Washington Office had recently attacked Plexico, Powers Oil Company, in the newspapers concerning the mis-pricing of crude oil. The home office had issued a number of confusing regulations regarding the selective pricing of certain groups of oil. These rules and regulations were like most other government documents, it seemed that they were not written to be understood, just followed. Batteries of lawyers, accountants and other so called experts had spent many months trying to understand the confusing regulations. About the time they thought they understood these newest edicts from the government, all the regulations would change again, keeping everyone in the business deeply in the darker recesses of confusion.

Most of the independent oil companies, including the fast growing Plexico, had called his office and various other sources seeking any kind of assistance. His office had interpreted the constantly changing rules and regulations the best they could, but he had to admit that no one in the DOE really agreed on how to properly interpret them.

The difference between the major oil companies accusations and Plexico’s was that Alexander Powers had been viciously attacked personally. Apparently these newspapers were getting their newly found information from unofficial governmental news releases. These items were subtly placed in the Tulsa National Press as facts from an unnamed source. Since he was the majority stockholder and CEO of this fast growing public company, he had been unmercifully battered in the press. An unknown someone had chosen to make him a public scapegoat or something worse it seemed.

A myriad of accusations and attacks locally in the Piranha like news media had forced Powers into asking Davis for a personal meeting. They had enjoyed lunch together discussing the massive amounts of government red tape. Later during lunch Powers had asked Davis to check the behind-the-scenes action to see if there was anything else behind these attacks on him directly. If he found anything unusual, he had been asked to call Mr. Jimbo Swager, a local Private Investigator and try to keep him abreast of the situation.

Davis was skeptical at first and had informed Powers that it was normally expected that the government would over react initially and then everyone would get together and solve the inevitable problems. At that point they could all go about their business in peace and understanding. Powers had convinced him to investigate everything he could surrounding the Plexico situation and the absurd personal accusations. Davis was dismayed by what he found, now he knew better and it appeared that Powers had been correct in his assumptions. He was definitely being singled out for a selective type of persecution as to his individual case. They were absolutely after him for some reason or another, but he hadn’t yet been able to determine exactly why they were picking on him. However, as of today he knew differently. Without any doubt what-so-ever, they were going after Plexico and Powers for some unknown reason to him and he could now prove it with their own records. This is crazy, he thought. I’m supposed to be on the other side of this equation. But then so was Joshua Franklyn.

Geoff Davis allowed his mind to wander onward. The drive to prove all of this was the main reason he and his new assistant Ben had been working late. He had called Jimbo Swager, Powers private investigator, earlier while his assistant was going out for dough nuts. There wasn’t any reason to tell Ben anything about his new thoughts until he was absolutely sure of his ground. Although he still wasn’t completely convinced of the who, he was damn sure he knew the what, of the Powers situation. Holy Moses, the heat is really picking up now and it’s getting extremely hard to catch a breath." A loud gurgling sound was heard in the distance by no one.

The headlines in the Tulsa National Press the next morning stated, Geoff Davis, Tulsa Division Manager of the Department of Energy, committed suicide last night while working late in his downtown office. The Braun law firm’s leaders were happy with the resultant headline, since they controlled Tulsa’s only newspaper within a hundred miles and had managed the news effectively for many years. Their newspaper was the only one of any material size for miles around. The closest competitor was over a hundred miles away in Oklahoma City. Northeastern Oklahoma, aptly called Green Country, was labeled as the second highest population in the area and the leader in oil producing companies.

*     *     *

The honorable Joshua Franklyn was sprawled out like a Siamese cat resting across his well used brown leather chair. His chubby legs were barely grabbing a small portion of the matching ottoman which he had managed to keep sacredly after forty years of marriage. There were some very deep and anxious thoughts filling his normally agile mind as he shifted positions slightly. The diabolical conclusions coming forth on the Alexander Power’s investigation was to say the least, exceedingly disturbing. Joshua’s sidewise move forced him to glance absent-mindedly out the oriel window with its myriad of intricately placed small panes of leaded glass. As his thinking processes increased speed he also began humming at a faster pace. It was on a much lower key than usual as he gazed without really seeing the other plush mansions surrounding his own castle. He couldn’t help wondering about the whole Alexander Powers affair and how deeply rooted in governmental intrigue it appeared to be. The, what’s and why’s, of the puzzling matter were tugging very heavily at his tired brain. Worrying wasn’t one of his specialties because he was more of a do it type of animal. It was just that somehow this intriguing problem was drastically different than the norm.

His deep seated Libra type of blue-gray eyes noted that it was a typically lazy Sunday afternoon in the suburbs. The sun was shining brightly through the thick panes from a beautiful azure sky after the cleansing overnight rain. Joshua knew that the ESPN sports channel normally prevailed on the gigantic televisions in most of the mansions in their area on weekends. The popular local delicatessen would soon be making its scheduled back door deliveries of pizza & Buffalo wings to one and all. Joshua didn’t want to cook just for himself since he was all alone for the entire holiday weekend. So he, as the bulk of the sports nuts, had previously ordered the usual goat cheese with black olive dotted pizzas and then sat down heavily to concentrate the best he could on his present dilemma.

Shortly after Rizzoli’s service wagon left the area Joshua Franklyn was laying spread out on the blue and tan tiled floor in the kitchen with blood