Free The Twelve Stones by Rj Johnson Page B

head impatiently, “ Thank them for their service, offer them our special ‘severance package’ and then lose them in the desert. Understood?”
    “Sir, things may be worse than a stolen truck.”
    “How so?” Kline’s voice became dangerous.
    “The two men who were here when we landed?”
    “Yes, what of them?” Kline asked, his voice growling, never a good sign.
    “I’m afraid we only found one body.”
    Geoffrey braced himself for the inevitable temper tantrum his boss was so adept at throwing. He didn’t have to wait long , as Kline rushed towards him faster than Geoffrey’s eyes could follow. Suddenly, the bald assistant found himself airborne , as Kline raised him over his head using only a fraction of his available strength.
    “He got away?” Kline’s anger permeated the room. The psychosis in his eyes was clearly apparent. This was a kind of murderous rage one rarely sees in anything resembling a human being. “I threw the man off a cliff!”
    Geoffrey attempted to wheeze out a response, but found himself unable to with his bosses' tight grip around his throat. Kline, disgusted with his second , in command dropped him to the ground and whisked himself away to his drawings as if nothing had happened. Grasping his neck, massaging it where the collar had cut into his skin, Geoffrey approached Kline’s side also as if nothing had happened. It was a trick he had learned over the years . His boss's anger could rise and subside within minutes, each time as unpredictable as the last.
    “Do you see these plans , Mr. Tate?” Kline pointed to the schematics in front of him. Geoffrey remained silent, another trick he had learned.
    “ These surveyor maps show absolutely no mineable ore or natural gas deposits here in the middle of nowhere. Do you know why I’m here , Mr. Tate?”
    Geoffrey wordlessly shook his head.
    “No , you don’t, and neither does anyone else. I want to keep it that way, so brainless, dimwitted do-gooders do not come out here and ask a lot of questions that we are not prepared to answer without resorting to violence. And you don’t want that , do you , Mr. Tate?”
    Geoffrey shook his head no, and Kline nodded, his faith restored in Geoffrey. Kline walked over to the wall examining more surveyor maps keenly, forgetting for the moment that he had nearly killed his most valued employee only seconds before.
    Without warning, Kline turned to Geoffrey . His subordinate winced , expecting another attack. Instead , in a low, kind voice, Kline said to him, “Mr. Tate, I believe all our Suburbans can be tracked through their GPS , can they not?”
    Geoffrey , ashamed at not thinking of this sooner , nodded his head.
    “Well then, it’s a simple matter of turning that on and finding him , isn’t it?” Kline asked, his eyes glowing with merriment instead of the murderous rage that had been there only a few moments before.
    “ I’ll get right to it , ” Geoffrey murmured.
    “ Excellent, Mr. Tate, excellent.” Kline rubbed his hands gleefully. “Take a chopper, find our little nuisance , and put him in the ground.” Kline’s eyes narrowed as Geoffrey began to exit the room. “And Mr. Tate… ” Geoffrey turned and looked at his boss , expecting another threat against his life. “Please be sure to not miss this time, yes?”
    Geoffrey , not wanting to argue the point , exited Kline’s office , typing furiously on his PDA’s keypad. He had narrowly avoided his boss ’s wrath; he would need to prove to Kline , once again , just how valuable his talents were , and why he was paid as he was. His PDA beeped in response to the text message he had just sent out. Geoffrey flipped it open . T he text read:
    Stolen vehicle SB Route 94
    Geoffrey opened up his phone and began running through his pre-operation checklist in his head. It was time to go to work. Within minutes, a security force made up of locals who knew the area would be joining him — with an impressive array of