Rural Michigan
“I don’t know how you do this,” Yoko whined as she adjusted herself for the umpteenth time. “It’s not that this fine seat isn’t comfortable, but sitting for such a long time and dealing with all these distracted drivers . . . I swear, I think I’d ram them off the road. You have the patience of a saint when you’re driving, that’s for sure!”
“Put a lid on it, would you?” Kathryn joked. “I’m immune to it. After all these years hauling cross-country, you get to know the roads, for sure. Surprisingly, you get to know a lot of people, too. There are thousands of drivers like me. Well, not exactly like me.” She laughed. “We have a network and keep each other apprised of any situations. As soon as I hit the road, I call in to anyone who is on the same route. We look out for each other . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Except for that one time.”
“I really admire your grit. I don’t know if I could ever get back behind a wheel after what happened to you,” Yoko said with compassion.
“It somehow, in some weird way, keeps me connected to Alan.” Kathryn sighed, remembering her husband, who had died, and trying not to remember how she was brutally raped as he was forced to watch from his wheelchair.
Noticing the expression turning dark on Kathryn’s face, Yoko asked, “So you never wanted to go back into engineering?”
Kathryn slapped the dashboard of the eighteen-wheeler. “This is all the engine I need!”
Both laughed. The mood was lifted. They were on a mission.
Yoko pulled out the road atlas. They did not want any electronic trail on the GPS. “According to this, the property is about thirty miles northeast of where you make your delivery.”
“We should be arriving at the drop-off in about half an hour. I’m leaving the rig at the truck stop and borrowing a car. This big thing may be too obvious. We’ll stop for lunch, then head in that direction.” Kathryn shifted gears and pulled into the passing lane on the interstate. “I swear, drivers get worse every year,” she mumbled as she cranked up Donna Summer’s “She Works Hard for the Money” on the radio. They both sang along at the top of their lungs.
When the song was over, they burst into laughter. “I can’t remember the last time I did that,” Yoko exclaimed. “That felt really good!”
“Another reason I like hitting the road.” Kathryn moved back into the right lane. “I can sing whatever I want, as loud as I want, and there’s nobody around to tell me to shut up!”
“You must get some crazy looks,” Yoko replied.
“That ain’t all!” Kathryn howled.
A squawk came from her CB radio. “That you, K? Screaming your lungs out again?”
“Hey, Josh! How’d you know it was me?” Kathryn replied.
“Ain’t nobody else sounds that bad. You’re scaring away the cows!”
“Where the heck are you, Mr. Funny Man?” Kathryn called out.
“About two miles behind. Where you headed?”
“Have one stop and then taking my friend for a ride through the countryside.” Kathryn turned on her directional signal, indicating she was exiting the interstate.
“Now, that’s almost as funny as your singing! Ain’t no countryside to see no more.”
“Such a comedian. Be careful out there. Over and out!” Kathryn clicked off the CB. “There’s an app for my phone, but this is still easier to manage, and it doesn’t use up my data allotment,” she explained to Yoko.
“You live in a different world, for sure.”
“Oh, and yours is so normal.” Kathryn elbowed her. “Wait here. I’ll go tell the manager to open the loading dock.”
A few minutes later, Kathryn returned and pulled the rig to the back of the auto-parts distribution center.
“All this time, I forgot to ask what you are hauling,” Yoko said.
“Tires. Glamorous, huh?” Kathryn smiled. “I know a lot of people in the car-dealership, auto-replacement biz. That’s how I ended up coming out to Detroit so often. But not so much anymore.” She jumped from the rig and handed a clipboard to one of the dockworkers.
“Hey!” and “How ya doin’?” came from the workers.
Kathryn exchanged the same pleasantries. “Where do you want me to leave the trailer?” The arrangements usually called for her to unhitch the trailer and pick up another one to take goods back East, but this time she would deadhead home with just the cab of the truck. She knew that once they got a look at the property, she would need speed and flexibility on the return trip.
As soon as they freed the cab from the trailer, Kathryn took the clipboard back and jumped into the truck. Lots of waves and hollers followed.
“Nice people. Salt of the earth. Too bad many of them lost their jobs in the auto industry. But at least they’re still gainfully employed, I suppose,” she told Yoko. She maneuvered the cab onto the highway and headed to the truck stop. “Hungry?”
“Yes!”
“Excellent. You’re in for some good eats,” Kathryn shouted over the noise of the grinding gears and rolled up her window. Within a few minutes, they pulled into the truck stop.
“Rosie’s Diner? For real?” Yoko said with surprise.
“Wait until you meet her!” Kathryn chuckled. “C’mon. Home fries are waiting!”
They walked into what looked like something that had been frozen in time. The time was circa 1957.
“Wow. Look at this place. They even have jukeboxes in the booths.” Yoko was in awe.
“They’re just for show. Pretty cool, though.” Kathryn waved her arms at another throwback. This time it was Rosie, granddaughter of the original, decked out in a pink-striped uniform with a white collar and trim, a white apron, and a peaked cap, complete with the ugliest white shoes.
“Kathryn! Babe! How the heck are you?” Rosie sauntered over and gave Kathryn a bear hug. “Who is this pretty thing?” She pointed at Yoko.
“A good friend. Yoko, meet Rosie.”
Rosie’s hands were as large as Kathryn’s, and she almost crushed Yoko’s fine fingers with her grip. Yoko tried to hide a wince. “Nice to meet you. Kathryn tells me you have the best food in Michigan.”
“She’s got that right. Come sit over here, away from the cigarette smoke.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Yoko asked innocently. Kathryn kicked her in the foot.
“Nobody cares around these here parts. I only let my regulars do it. There’s only a couple of ’em left,” Rosie explained. “We ain’t that far from Flint. Now there’s a problem that needs fixin’.” She handed them plastic-coated menus that had seen better days. “Meat loaf is fresh this morning. Take a few minutes. Coffee? Tea? Soda?”
Thinking about the water problem in Flint, Yoko opted for something that came in a bottle. “Coke? Pepsi?”
“Pepsi, dollface. Kath? You?”
“Coffee. Thanks.”
Rosie waddled across the room, weaving in and out of the square Formica tables, which had also seen better days.
“It’s kind of depressing, isn’t it?” Yoko whispered.
“I prefer to think it’s quaint. But you’re right. Business has fallen off a cliff. It’s amazing she’s still here. But she owns the building, so that’s one bill she doesn’t have to pay.” Kathryn scanned the room. “I’m going for the meat loaf. Mashed potatoes. Gravy.”
Yoko looked at the menu. Not exactly what she was used to, especially when she was at Pinewood, with Charles’s fine cooking. Kathryn sensed Yoko’s apprehension.
“Bacon and eggs. Always a safe bet.”
“Nah. I’ll have what you’re having.” Yoko smiled when Rosie returned to the table with their beverages and took their order.
When the food arrived, it looked exactly like the picture on the menu. “Rosie’s specialty.” Rosie pointed to the food. “Enjoy!”
The women dived into the comfort food, which, Yoko noted, was really, really good.
“See! I told ya,” Kathryn boomed. “Let’s hit the ladies’ room and get going.”
Kathryn motioned for the check, pulled out her cash, and left a hundred-dollar bill under the saltshaker. “Come on. I don’t want Rosie yelling at me. She hates it when I overtip!” They made a beeline for the bathroom, washed up, and bolted.
Before they had left Virginia, Kathryn had arranged for a friend to leave a car at the diner. They would use it for the few hours needed to check out the property. Kathryn pulled out a license plate from the back of the cab. After looking around to see that no one was watching, she swapped the “extra” plate with the one on her friend’s car.
“Grab the road atlas,” she directed Yoko. “I’ll get my gear.” Her gear consisted of binoculars, several cameras, and a drone/camera kit. Fergus had shown her how to assemble the Wi-Fi-enabled drone/camera kit. The camera was equipped to send the photos to Kathryn’s tablet and to Charles. It was a backup in case they couldn’t get onto the property. Aerial photos would be perfect, provided they didn’t get caught and someone didn’t shoot the drone down.
Yoko opened the road atlas and began giving Kathryn directions. It took about thirty minutes before they came upon a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire and a sign that said BEWARE. NO TRESPASSING.
Yoko said somberly, “This looks nasty. And scary.”
“Let’s drive around and see how far this fence goes.” Kathryn drove for almost a mile before they came to the end of the fence at an intersection. “With all the brush and overgrowth, I can barely make out a building in the distance.” She dragged binoculars from her gear bag. “Hard to tell what it is. Except it’s a big building.”
Yoko took the binoculars from Kathryn and looked. “Some kind of factory? Warehouse?”
“But which is it?” Kathryn looked at the photo from Google Earth. “I guess we need to launch our little friend.” She patted the box sitting between them. “Finally, my engineering degree will come in handy.” She opened the trunk to give herself some room to assemble the drone without it being in plain sight. She checked for security cameras. None this close to the road, but she suspected there would be several along the perimeter of the building.
In a few short minutes, she had the device ready for takeoff. “We’ll drive around a bit more to see if there is a better vantage point.” Kathryn shut the trunk and jumped back into the driver’s seat. They turned the corner and followed the fence for another mile. “This is like a compound.” They came upon a gate with the same warning: BEWARE. NO TRESPASSING.
Next to the gate was a camera and a single phone, protected in a box. “I guess they don’t get a lot of visitors. Let’s get away from any prying eyes,” Kathryn said.
She drove the car another mile, to what seemed to be the rear part of the property, assuming the gate was at the front. The car rolled slowly onto the gravel shoulder opposite the property, where they waited for a few minutes to get a sense of the traffic flow. There seemed to be none. The women got out and switched seats so Kathryn could launch the drone without being seen from the road. The real-time transmission and wide angle were in working order. She directed Yoko to ping Charles so he could upload the feed and observe as the drone flew over the fence.
Despite her big hands, Kathryn maneuvered the drone’s control box with the skill and agility of a surgeon. The drone moved up and over the overgrown fence, putting it out of their sight. The only view they had came from the camera mounted on the drone. Using the panoramic lens, Kathryn scanned the side of the building. There were several security cameras, alarms, blacked-out windows, and a dozen steel overhead doors. Nothing gave away the contents of the building. Except they didn’t want visitors.
“Wow. What is this place?” Kathryn asked.
Yoko was about to look over Kathryn’s shoulder when the alert signal went off on both of their phones. The sound meant “Abort!” It came from Charles. Within seconds, a round of gunshots went off.
The women dashed back into the car. As Kathryn peeled away, kicking up gravel and dust in their wake, Yoko kept a steady watch out the rear window. So far, no one was following them. Still, Kathryn kept the pedal to the metal and soared down the country road at eighty miles per hour.
Charles pinged them: Two men dressed in orange coveralls with hoods. He had been able to see them as they ran out of the building with their weapons. Seconds later, the transmission from the drone went dead.
Yoko turned to look at Kathryn. “There must be something very serious going on in that place.”
“You got that right. But what? And how do we find out? Wait. I have an idea. I’m willing to bet that whoever works there goes out for a beer after his shift. Maybe with some coworkers. Let’s check out some local bars tonight.”
Yoko looked stunned at the suggestion. “What are we supposed to do? Walk up to them and ask, ‘Hey, do you work at that secret place where they shoot drones?’”
“Nooo . . . but we could be two people passin’ through, stopping for something to drink,” Kathryn offered.
“Still, what do we say to them?” Yoko pressed.
“We smile and say hello. Start a little conversation. I don’t expect them to spill their guts, but you know how men like to brag. Especially if it’s something they’re not supposed to talk about. After a few beers, they may say certain things. Who knows? Maybe the place is hiring! I think it’s worth a shot.”
“We need to clear this with Annie and Myra,” Yoko reminded her. “We don’t deviate without consulting the others unless lives are at stake.”
“You’re right. See if Charles can reach them. Meanwhile, we’ll head back to the diner. I need a piece of pie.” Kathryn sighed.
By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Charles had got back to them on their idea of staking out a bar. “Just one bar. One night. Keep the radio on.”
Rosie welcomed them again. “Hey, girls. Back so soon? I bet you remembered you didn’t have pie! Am I right?”
“You’re a regular psychic,” Kathryn teased.
“No mumbo jumbo about my cherry pie. You never left before without having some or taking a slice with you,” Rosie reminded her.
“Some memory, you have.” Kathryn smirked.
“I know my customers.” Rosie gave them a wink. “Coming right up!”
It dawned on Kathryn that maybe Rosie had some info on the mysterious property. She leaned in and whispered to Yoko, “We should see if Rosie has the lowdown or some info on that place.”
“Good idea. I’ll start the conversation.”
Rosie lumbered across the room, carrying a pot of coffee in one hand and two slices of juicy cherry pie in the other. “You girls spending some time in our lovely county?” She was half joking.
“Kinda,” Yoko answered. “We were talking about what a beautiful state Michigan is and how it gets a bad rep because of Flint and the ups and downs of Detroit. So she wanted to show me some of the countryside.” Kathryn rolled her eyes as Yoko continued. “It’s sad to see abandoned property and buildings.”
Rosie stood with the coffeepot and sighed. “Yep. Way too many of them around here.”
“I noticed one place that had BEWARE signs. Beware of what?” Yoko asked innocently. “Are there dangerous animals around here or something?”
“Or do most people put signs like that up?” Kathryn asked.
“You mean the place about thirty minutes from here? With all the barbed wire?” Rosie asked.
“Sounds about right,” Kathryn said.
“Not sure. They say it’s some kind of secret government location. Hardly nobody goes out that way.”
“Do you ever meet people who work there?” Kathryn asked. “But I guess if it’s top secret, they can’t tell you!”
The three women laughed at the idea.
“You’re right about that.” Rosie leaned in closer to the women’s faces. “But I did hear two guys talkin’ one day about ‘pill man,’ but they shut up as soon as I got closer to the table. Ain’t been back since.”
“Do you think they worked there?” Yoko asked casually.
“Hard to say. But that’s all the secret talk I ever heard personally. Everyone else in here is bitchin’ and complainin’ about work, no work, kids, and what team lost in sports.” Rosie noticed two more patrons entering the diner. “Better get back to work.”
“Pill man?” Kathryn’s eyes sparkled. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and put it on the table.
Back in the parking lot, Kathryn replaced the license plate on the car and left an envelope beneath the visor with the spare key and five hundred dollars. She locked the car, knowing her friend had her own key. Kathryn had a few friends around the country who had keys to each other’s cars, apartments, houses, boats, and so on. Just in case. Like now.
Since they already had the information they might have gotten by staking out a bar, they decided to stay in a motel before heading back to Pinewood and reporting everything back to Charles. The pieces were definitely fitting together.