6. Tentacles
Over the next week, the team were kept busy piecing The Lady together and deep diving into the breadcrumbs that Michael have left them.
Moffet's seemingly innocuous and rurally located properties turned out to be anything but.
They were all conveniently located right next to rivers and/or rail lines or interstates, each within a couple of miles of each other and also a stone's throw from small towns that had were just big enough to host a local bank, Council Chambers, Sheriff's Office, a municipal Airport or even friendly neighbors with a private airstrip.
Remote transport arteries took priority. They could be quickly accessed without raising the eyebrows that it would if they were to try to operate in the usual rabbit warrens that were urban neighborhoods.
Looking at the property maps of the locations, Dale asked her uncle how just the right kind of property came along at the right time.
Branson sat up and smiled knowingly. "Remember how I said that I suggested the CIA contact my Real Estate Agent?"
Dale nodded.
"Well, that was the first time I realized that I didn't want some shady character to knock on my door one day and tell me that it would be a shame if something awful were to happen to me if I didn't sell them a property they wanted. I stayed ahead of them and sent them the message that I wanted none of their corruption."
Dale was momentarily surprised at the thought of a threat to her uncle's life, but she was not so naive that she assumed it was the only time that he'd been approached by nefarious characters.
She supposed that sort of thing came with the territory.
"Yes, it does," Branson said in agreement.
His answer further surprised Dale, who'd been unaware that she spoken her thoughts out loud.
Continuing to study the material, the photos showed quaint little holiday houses, trailers and/or barns, but that wasn't all, they also showed the inside of huge concrete structures that couldn't be seen from arial shots, that for all intents and purposes looked to be big enough to drive a semi into.
Town planning that usually would take months to give permits for something as simple as a dog kennel, would be gifted with the sudden ability to fast track building permits for these highly engineered buildings.
Underground.
One might have asked how were these structures built with no one noticing?
Well, that was the beauty of rural communities. While folks in those parts would give you the shirt off their backs if you needed it, they for the most part minded their own business.
Or supplied it.
But…if there were any reports of suspicious activities from the local busy body, they were quickly explained away, and rumors buried with false stories.
Any persistent informants were sometimes buried along with the stories - there seemed to be an awful lot of single vehicle/farm accidents and self-ending incidents in these towns - and any legal pursuits ran into dead ends because the DA was also involved.
Sheriffs were inserted into the counties not long before the installations were proposed to town planning, and this of course was possible by the connections of a plethora of top ranking "selected" politicians, who pulled strings and created distractions.
Again, the question was raised. Where did Moffet get the sort of funds to buy all these properties?
There was a saying.
Follow the money.
Which is what Michael had already done.
Michael's thorough investigation led the crew down another long rabbit hole and project funding involved local and national banks, businesses, and institutions to the tune of millions of dollars.
They were led to about a dozen or so bogus Five-O-one C's that hid behind their moral and humanitarian facades.
This would have been hard to argue with at face value.
There were Universities with academic backing for their "special projects."
Local elementary schools and Libraries and who's expansions received government funds that far exceeded their need and were given grants to add extra curriculum of certain ideas tied to some very questionable ideals that probably should never involve minors.
It all looked completely legitimate in the eyes of local communities thanks to the appearance of their altruistic nature, especially when these programs were clearly promoted through the endorsements involving the politicians, the rich, the famous, the corporations, and the media.
But under the veil there was an overflow of slush that got washed in the laundromat and distributed to political figures via the local banking connections and Crypto exchanges in very lucrative circle jerk of wealth improvement deals the led all the way back to the top tier of the administration for favors.
And so, the cycle continued with every level controlled by money and blackmail.
"Let me guess" Saint John said, when Branson and Dale were back at Santini Air later that evening during the daily brief. "Moffet was on the payroll."
"Of course he was," Branson said flatly, confirming the his own previous suspicions. "And that answers the question of how a mad scientist test pilot became a land baron."
"Woah," Nash said with a shake of his head, "and I thought working as a repo pilot had a good return."
"It's just danger money Wings, not half as lucrative as corrupt money." Said Saint John with a wink.
"I'm starting to see that", he said, rubbing his chin as the magnitude of the findings sunk in.
While the Santini crew generally had more idea than most on the backhand deal workings of a government agency, they were all just realizing just how far the tentacles reached and wrapped around not only their everyday lives.
As they had peeled off the layers of their project like a proverbial onion, they found complete infiltration of corruption, crime, greed and deceit.
"And this is just the stuff connected to Moffet, imagine how far this goes with every other facet of life." Jo said feeling mildly green at the thought.
"You're, right Jo, we're only just starting to scratch the surface." Branson said in agreement. "They send our tax payer coin and then launder it back to themselves, they've been doing it for generations," Branson said knowingly, having been on the receiving end of these "offers" more often than he was willing to admit.
"You wonder how they keep getting away with it don't you?" Jo asked with some frustration.
"Because we're stupid," Cait said cynically, "and we let them."
They all sat silently for a short while as they ruminated on the enormity of what Michael had uncovered.
"So, how's The Lady coming along?" Branson asked, changing the subject to another and no less important development.
"She just needs her gearbox serviced and then she's ready to test fly. Diego Jr's been a godsend." Nash said, well impressed with Saint John's gifted Godson.
"He's one of the best LAME's I've had the privilege to work with," said Saint John proudly. "He's a natural. Shame he can't hang around, his mom isn't well, and he has to get back to Antofagasta as soon as Airwolf is good to go."
Diego Jr. didn't have the security clearance to join the rest of the Santini crew beyond working with the graceful helicopter that he was no stranger to.
Perhaps Diego Jr's situation would change one day and the team could convince the young man and his family to join them in the future.
With that, they wrapped up the evening and headed home to rest up for what would no doubt be another full day.
The sun had barley risen when Branson's phone rang first thing the next morning.
He and Jo hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.
It was Chapman.
After a series of uhuh's, yes's and I see's, Branson bid Chapman goodbye and closed his eyes, before swearing under his breath.
"What's wrong honey," Jo asked in concern, before reaching out to stroke her hand through his hair
"Uh, it seems Marella has disappeared. Chapman thinks she might have acted on a lead to Michael's whereabouts and she has shot through."
Jo immediately checked with the hangar cameras via her phone and noted that Marella's white Lear was indeed not in its usual parking spot.
"How did she get past our security?" Nash asked later when everyone had been called together at Santini Air for the update.
"It's Marella sweetheart," Caitlin said to remind him of her capabilities.
"Oh yeah, I kind of forget sometimes that she's every bit the operative Michael was…. I mean is," he quickly corrected before the group agreed to focus on their current responsibilities. As hard as it was not to worry about Marella, they had to leave it to Project Guardian to look after their senior agent.
