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Adam Clay tipped the large bucket with deft control on the joystick. The forty-five-ton excavator’s boom extended, and the resulting sound from the hydraulic cylinder was audible in the cab. The definite ticking noise made him wince. He would have to check the fluid levels in the morning. Thick fingers tapped the controller once again, and the bucket smoothed the surface until it looked like it was hand-groomed with a rake.
Finished, he turned off the machine and wiped his forehead with a white cloth from his overalls. The fifty-five-year-old man climbed down and used a flashlight to scan the area. His steps were quiet on the freshly turned dirt as he bent to pick up a brass casing.
“You’re an old one.”
He vaguely recalled shooting at coyotes in this area a few years ago. The .308 made short work of them. You only had to kill one before the others got the message and disappeared—usually.
He tossed the casing out into the darkness and headed back to the farmhouse. Bugs were attracted to the bobbing flashlight as he crossed the acreage. Fields of corn swayed in the gentle night breeze as bats swooped low and feasted on the insects. Adam chuckled as one came within a few feet of his head before it veered off.
He took off his boots and left them on the porch before heading inside. The office used to be a sitting room off the front hallway that he converted decades ago. He lived alone, and he was never much for lounging, let alone watching television.
Once behind the desk, the large man pecked away at a keyboard with two fingers.
Order completed. Balance of payment due.
Before pressing send, Adam scratched his thick beard and glanced at the time, 12:09 a.m. He deleted the sender information and typed in a different recipient. He always followed protocol. Satisfied, he sent the email and was about to go to bed when a chime sounded.
New message.
Excited, he quickly scrolled through the information and let out a whistle.
The order was already pre-paid.
As he read the file, Adam pulled up the maps. Almost a twenty-two-hour drive from Kansas to Washington D.C. There was no way he would make it in time. Besides, he was still recovering from the last assignment.
He replied to the email.
Order will be fulfilled, but additional expenses may occur.
When the response came back, he smiled and picked up the phone.
On the second ring, a woman mumbled. “Hello?”
“Rise and shine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. We have work to do.”
“Ugh. Roger that.”
Adam went upstairs to change and grabbed his go-bag. He couldn’t help but whistle as he prepared. The money wasn’t important, but he would take it. It was the job that got the blood pumping and made him feel alive.
His property held many secrets, and with almost twelve hundred acres and an excavator, there was plenty of room—time to fulfill another order.