Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2003 13:47:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Auby Haley <daxue12000@yahoo.com>
Subject: A True Fond - Chapter Five

Obligatory warnings and legal disclaimers:

If you are under the age of 21 or the age of majority in your area,
offended by male/male material, or it is illegal to view such materials in
your country, state, county, or municipality, you should leave now.

If you are looking for a story with lots of sex, tough luck! This is a
story of friendship, bonding, and love. Only time will tell which direction
it will take.

There are no profits to be made here.

Do not archive, copy or email this story without permission of the
author. You have been warned. This story has been copyrighted.

I don't know any of the celebrities in this story. This story does not
imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything
else. This is a work of pure fiction.  A fantasy. This story is not meant
to imply anything about Agim Kaba, Travis Fimmel or Jensen Ackles.

(Agim Kaba is associated with As The World Turns. As The World Turns
belongs to

Columbia Broadcasting System (Copyright MMII, CBS Worldwide Inc. All Rights
Reserved).

(Jensen Ackles Is associated with Days Of Our Lives. Days Of Our Lives
belongs to National Broadcasting Company and Tristar Pictures (Copyright
MMII, NBC. All Rights Reserved).

(Travis Fimmel is associated with New York Model Management.)

Main Characters (Major characters will be added as the story unfolds.):

Brendan Kohl: 21, 5'10", light brown hair, green eyes. Swimmers build all
American type.

Becky (Beck) Wrey: Typical hometown woman, 5'8. 25, blond hair, black
pooling eyes.

Agim (Jim) Kaba: Albanian, 20, 6', long brown hair, brown eyes, smooth
soccer player build.

Travis Fimmel: Australian, 21, 6',dark blond, blue-green eyes, with a
surfer's body.

Jensen Ackles: 19, 6', dirty blond, hazel eyes.


Minor Character (Minor characters will be added as the story unfolds.):

Mick Johnson: Owner of the bar called Mick's and the café The Place.

Hank Sowell: President, Clinton Federal Home and Farm


A True Fond

Chapter Five

***Travis***

"Where the hell is Jensen," he said.

***Brendan***

There was so much to do on the farm and at times I didn't know where to
start.  Even beginning in the wee hours of the morning there wasn't enough
hours in the day to get done what needed to be accomplished.  It was hard
work and being on my own made it harder still.  I was going to make my farm
pay for itself.  If my dad could do it so could I.  But he had had me to
help him along with a few part time field hands.

It had been a long day, starting at five in the morning and to be truthful
I was ready to call it a night when I heard a vehicle stop outside of the
barn.  Looking at my watch, it was a little past nine in the evening.  My
interest level was peeked because it was rare that I had visitors, usually
Becky drove out the day she open Mick's late.  Since Monday is her slow day
at the bar she wouldn't close.

Who ever it was that had stopped would eventually find their way to the
barn.  The only lights on were there so I continued working taking the
manifold off the old Allis-Chalmers tractor.  Finally, I heard the door
leading inside the barn opened.  The footsteps ended a few feet behind me.
Taking up a hand cloth that I had draped over the engine I wiped my hands
as I turned to see who had intruded into my closed world.

I was shocked to see standing in front of me Agim.  A variety of emotions
flickered through my mind.  He just stood there smiling at me.  I didn't
know what to do.  Whether jump up and down, cry, or rush towards him.  I
didn't know what to say so I shyly grinned back at him.  Agim came to me
and took me into his arms giving me to slight kiss on the lips.  Feeling
him press his body against mine caused a stirring in my loins.

"I've missed you Brendan," he said, his voice low and trembling.

"Stop, you will get dirt and grease all over you," I replied, attempting to
push out of his arms.  He didn't let me go.

"Don't care.  Let me hold you, please."

I place my arms around Agim's back feeling the powerful muscles under his
shirt.  He put his head on my shoulder his mouth close to my neck, and I
whispered, "You look like the typical mid-western farmer. And, I'm a New
York City fool...Brendan. I'm gay!"  He said as if it was a confession.

My heart started beating hard and knew he could feel it against his chest.
It felt like it was going to burst.  Brushing my lips across his hair I
asked, "Tell me again, Agim.  I've ached to hear you say it.  Are you
sure?"

"Yes.  I'm gay.  Never more sure of anything in my entire life," he
whispered.  He pulled back still smiling then leaned forward kissing me
again softly with passion.  Afterwards we stood holding each other looking
into the depths of each other's eyes.  The work on the tractor was
forgotten.

As we walked to the back porch of the house I cleaned my hands with Wet Dry
getting off the grease.  Once inside the mudroom I took off my boots and
overalls and finished cleaning.  I didn't want to track anything into the
house that I'd have to clean up some other day.  After putting on cloths I
left there earlier we entered the kitchen and I turned on the light.

***Agim***

"This looks like a place to live, Brendan.  If the rest of the house looks
like this I bet it's great."

"It's O.K., but not sitting here when the temperature's 10 below outside.
Even wearing in three layers of clothing. "  He told me adding.  "I'll show
the rest in the morning.  Right now, let me fix a pot coffee. Then we can
talk."

The kitchen was small painted all white.  The wood cabinets had white
porcelain knobs with red circles.  It was as clean and tidy as possible and
it seemed to be one of the few rooms occupied in the house.  All the
necessities of life were close at hand.  The most prominent object in the
room was a large cast iron stove and I asked Brendan about it.  He told me
that he didn't use it much since the iron was getting brittle.  His mom
loved cooking on the old wood burner, he told me, the burning wood gave her
food a special flavor and she wouldn't let his dad replace it.  He added,
that whatever he ate now came out of a box you could heat in the microwave.
I couldn't help but think that was a shame since he was a good cook having
worked at Mick's café, The Place, before it burned down.

We talked about the house and farm him telling me that the place hadn't
changed much over the years.  It was built in 1879 and had been in his
family ever since.  The last major renovation was done to the kitchen in
the early twenties when his granddad redone the kitchen. His grandpa'
removed the old water hand pump.  He remembered his dad telling him that
grandpa' Kohl didn't what `the old women to break her arm off pump'n
water.'  He wished that hand pump still overlooked the sink since it would
give the room a more country like feeling.  The kitchen had a hardwood
floor and still had a wooded table and chairs.  Some of the chairs had been
repaired two maybe three times.  The once bright flowered wallpaper had
long ago faded and had started to peel in places so he had painted it white
after stripping the paper off the walls.

It's a poor man's kitchen I thought.

When I asked about the rest of the house Brendan explained that he didn't
use much of it.  That he kept open only three rooms, the kitchen, the only
bathroom along with the downstairs bedroom both off the kitchen.  In the
winter he used an electric heater by the backdoor to keep the rooms heated
warm enough so the pipes wouldn't burst.  On the coldest nights he would
stoke up the furnace in the basement burning wood he cut during summer.  He
remembered when he was younger taking turns with his dad getting up at
night to keep it blazing.  Now, he had to do it alone.  It might he rustic
but it was a pain in the ass too.

So we sat there in the dim light of the kitchen nursing our coffee for
hours.  Talking over the last two years since I met him.  Brendan didn't
say anything that I didn't all ready know.  Actually, I let him do most of
the talking figuring he needed to get it out of his system.  I was
surprised to learn that he never felt that Mick tried to hurt him,
intentionally.  To my way of thinking, that's exactly what Mick did.

***Brendan***

I was glad Agim had stopped at Mick's.  If he hadn't I doubted that he
would have found out where I lived.  Traveling through the maze of dirt
roads to my place is rather hard and almost impossible at night if you
don't know the landmarks.  I wanted to ask him how he knew he was gay but I
didn't.  I figured he'd tell me when he wanted.  It was also getting late

"Agim, I'm sorry. I need to get to bed.  My day starts early and it's
already past one," I said.

"So tell me.  What's going on tomorrow," he asked.

I laughed, "Well. Before six I need to milk my cow and put the milk in the
separator.  Bring down straw for her to eat after I've turned her loose in
the pasture.  Feed the chickens and the 2 pigs.  I need to get to Clinton
by 9 and pick up a few things.  Once back, since I've been putting it off,
I should shovel out the pigsty.  In the afternoon, stack wood I cut for the
winter.  I really have to pick the last of the apples before they go bad
and can't be used for cider.  So I guess, I'll press them and boil some of
the cider to keep it from turning hard.  When it cools bottle it and put it
the fruit cellar.  Finish taking that motor out of the tractor and see what
kind of mess I have.  I'm pretty sure the tractor has bit the dust but it's
got to be done.  It hasn't been used in three years.  I need to overhaul
the corn picker and the hay bailer.  Take the wheels off the wagon and pack
the bearings.  Sharpen the blades on the plow and disks.  Put up the storm
window on the house.
 I've got some stones in the south field that need moving before I remove
the fence and clear the hedge that separates the fields before spring
planting.  Milk the cow, again.  My list goes on and on."

"All that tomorrow?"  Agim's eyes were large a quarters when he said it.

I giggled, "You city slickers are so easy."

"Damn you," Agim replied playing the city fool.

"Seriously, all that has to be done.  I do what I can with winter coming,
soon enough.  I'll have time," I said.  `Many long hours, hopefully,'
Brendan said, mostly to himself.

"So.  When do you start in the morning?"  Agim asked.

"A little after five," I replied sadly.

"Then lets go to bed and sleep Brendan.  Sounds like you have a long day
tomorrow."

"What, no sex?" Brendan joked, trying to hold back a yawn.

"Not tonight. But pencil me in for tomorrow night.  We have two years to
make up."

***Agim***

Lying on my back in the dark I stared at the ceiling.  Brendan was on his
side facing me with his arm across me.  Holding tight like I was his
lifeline.  Maybe I was.  He'd fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The work on the farm was much harder that running a café.  I knew that
the work was hard and he worked hard at it.  His breathing was more labored
than I remembered.  I could feel his hard cock against my side.
Occasionally, I would brush my hand over it and Brendan would moan
slightly.  In my mind, I replayed the scene in the kitchen.  His voice was
strong and full of anticipation.  Brendan's eyes belied a sense of failure
that wasn't there before.  All the time he was telling me what he needed to
do he was playing me.  Still he wasn't.  All those things had to be done
and more.  How and when he would find the time alone I couldn't begin to
imagine.  The kitchen while rustic had a dead feel to it.  There wasn't any
life in the entire house.  He used three of the
 thirteen rooms.  When I looked in a few rooms before bed everything was
coved in white sheets.  It looked like ghosts inhabited each room.  The
house needed a wife.  Needed children.  Things Brendan couldn't give it.
The only thing living in this house was Brendan.  The only thing alive on
this farm was Brendan.  You could see it in eyes.  How could he succeed
alone?  Only his determination or pride was keeping him going.  Only his
passion was alive.  Passion to do the best he could.  To do what ever it
took to succeed.  No matter the cost.  It was this cost that had me
worried.  It was costing Brendan more than he realized, I thought.  You
could see it in his eyes.  On the surface Brendan's eyes were full of
enthusiasm.  They were full of promise.  Showing certainty in his beliefs.
Belief, that his actions were correct.  But when you looked deep into them
they had another look.  The look when a person is at the end of their rope.
There was that look in this eyes.  The dark
 circles around his vivid green eyes caused them to bulge.  The look of
desperation was there. His eyes were the windows to his soul.  For all his
confidence his eyes were telling a truth.  Reflecting from them was the
truth that time was running out.  The world doesn't wait for anyone to see
the disasters they are heading towards at break neck speed.  Life is too
busy.  There is always too much to do.  The lack of time prevents them from
seeing, from understanding, that what they are doing isn't worth a damn.
They aren't aware of it.  But, it's eating at them.  Weakening them.
Weakening until at some point they break.  Then it's too late.  Should no
one be there at the breaking then it's all over.  The damage has been done.
Sometimes it's all over and the damage can't be repaired.  They have no
control and their worst nightmare comes true.  They have no control over
life. They have no control over death.

Was I thinking of Brendan or myself, I wondered.  Maybe, I was thinking of
both of us.

Brendan was facing losing the family farm.  While I was afraid I might
loose my life if things didn't work out.  I was torn in how to solve my
problem and was afraid that if I helped Brendan that he might just end up
in the same position I was in.  Again, I had been sent to Pockston.  Sent
here to clean up a mess.  This time I didn't know whether I could keep
Brendan out of it.  I tried before but Mick turned stupid and had to be
stopped.  That was water over the dam.

I looked at the glowing red numbers of the clock next to the bed.  They
were a constant reminder that even now time was slipping by. It was after
four in the morning.  Brendan was quietly snoring beside me.  Each exhale
was another reminder that time was slipping by.  Time couldn't be stopped.
It couldn't be slowed.  But the product that time spawns can be altered.
Why should he do this alone?  I just hoped that I could help.  Hoped that
he would let me help.  And if he wouldn't let me help I hoped that he
wouldn't find out how I was going to help him.  How I might be putting him
in danger.

****

Brendan left me standing in front of his bank, The Clinton Federal Home and
Farm.  I watched him drive down the tree lined street heading off to run
his errands.  Watching him drive away multiple waves of emotions washed
through me.  First, there was anger, directed a Mick for what he had done
and to those that wouldn't lend Brendan the help he needed.  There was love
for Brendan that made my heart ach to see him close to failure.  I had the
determination to forestall that outcome and I hoped that I could protect
him from the people in the background that he didn't even know existed.

I told him I'd like to walk around the town before we met at a diner for
lunch.  When he rounded the corner I turned to the bank.  Putting my hand
on the door handle I stopped thinking.  `What I was about to do might well
destroy everyone.  Not just Brendan.  Me.  And others.  Those others I
hadn't been able to talk to.  There wasn't time.' I was running out of
time, so I opened the door to the bank and headed for the receptionist.

The receptionist was a short older women, she reminded me of the dowager,
her gray hair pulled painfully tight to a bun at the back of her head.
Like she was trying to lift the sagging skin covering her face.  She was
overweight and past the stage of menopause.  As I stood in front of her
desk I waited for her to look up.  When she did I gave her my best NYC
stage smile, which made her blush ever so slightly.

 "Excuse me Miss," looking at her nameplate pinned over her right breast.
"Miss Kirkland.  I would like to speak to the bank President.  He is in?  I
hope?"  I continued smiling as I step closer to her desk.  When I did she
pushed her chair back slightly. I had invaded her personal comfort zone.

"Yes, Mr. Sowell is here this morning.  Whom can I say is wishing to see
him and your purpose?"  She was cold and unhappy person doing a job. I
thought she was unsuitable for.

"My name? Kaba. Agim Kaba.  I'm here to establish a line of credit."

"Well, Mr. Lewis," using her head to point to a balding, 50'ish looking
gentleman across the lobby near the back wall of the bank.  "Mr. Lewis is
the loan officer and he could take care of you.  I'm sure.  Mr. Sowell is
very busy this morning."  She was now standing in front of me doing her
best to run interference.

I wasn't in the mood and don't like to treat people this way.  I wasn't
sure that what I was about to do was the right thing. Not I had little
choice.  There were some things that I didn't control. Couldn't control.  I
was just a soldier and I had my orders.  How I accomplished my task was up
to me within a narrow framework.  I was to find a new moneyman.  One who
would take orders and ask no questions.  If I accomplish that and could
help Brendan at the same time so much the better.  My target was Hank
Sowell, Bank President, friend and sometime business partner with Mick
Johnson.

Leaning over her desk my face close to hers and I whispered, "I'm sure that
Mr. Lewis is a capable loan officer."  My lips were almost touching her
ear.  That he can handle most loans with great professionalism.  But the
line of credit I wish to speak about involves several millions of dollars
and a sizeable investment in this bank."  Miss Kirkland inhaled abruptly.
She was embarrassed and breathing rapidly feeling my breath on her ear.  A
quick look around I could see that no one was watching us.  "Now, don't you
think that Mr. Sowell would like to discuss this before he lets his loan
officer handle 40 to 50 million.  Miss Kirkland." When finished I took a
step back I looked at her she flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and
frustration.

At first she didn't know what to do so she stared at me taking a step back
and bumping into her chair.  She blushed more with embarrassment having
forgotten where she was.  While collecting herself she looked at me unsure
what to do.  A moment of debate flashed between her eyes and she replied,
"I'll see if Mr. Sowell can see you."  But she didn't move.  It was like
her feet had taken root.

I raised my voice slightly to give a more commanding tone but not drawing
attention to our exchange.  "Now.  Now, Kirkland!  Before I take my time,
my money and business down the street.  Surely, you wouldn't want it known
that you lost The Clinton Federal Home and Farm such a large account.  If
Sowell won't see me..."

"Ye...Yes. Of, course."  She pulled herself from her roost looking back at
me over her left shoulder she fled to the door behind her giving it a light
rap and entered the room.  Through the window I watch a short animated
conversation.  Sowell wasn't trilled she'd interrupted his morning routine.
Shortly the door opened and stepping up against it, Miss Kirkland said,
"Mr. Kaba. Mr. Sowell can see you, now."  Sure I had intimidated her.  I
used my breath against the most sensitive organ on the human body.  I used
my body heat to stimulate her.  I felt like shit.  My plan was in motion
and I wasn't going to let her or this small town bank President who took my
hand as I entered his office stop me.

"Mr. Kaba, how may I help you this morning?" Sowell asked.  He reminded me
of Quentin Collins on the `60's gothic soap Dark Shadows.  Dripping in
grandeur, sucking life's blood from everyone doing business with him.

"Mr. Sowell, Thank you for taking the time from your schedule to meet with
me without an appointment.  I know that you are very busy.  I appreciate
you taking the time."

"Busy.  Yes, I have a full morning. Anna, I sorry Miss Kirkland, said you
wanted to discuss a line of credit of 40 million dollars.  I'm sorry, but I
don't know you.  You're not from around here.  I really can't see why
you're taking up my time."

"There seems to be a small misunderstanding.  Miss Kirkland must not have
explained correctly.  I don't want a line of credit for myself."

"But, she..."

I cut him off, "I'd like to open an account and transfer funds to that
account.  Deposit 50 million.  Today.  Actually a simple transfer of funds
from one account to another."

"I see.  She didn't put it that way.  Did you say 50 million?  Yes, of
coarse you did.  She did mention a line of credit.  But with that amount of
money, why would you want a line of credit."

"I don't."  I could see his confusion was the reason for his interruption.
"Mr. Sowell, you're a busy man and to be frank I have another appointment.
Let me explain, perhaps we can to business and I'll be on my way.  Then you
can get back to your schedule."

"Yes that would be in order," Sowell said, relieved that I would clear up
the situation.

"I represent a group of companies.  Have you heard of AFI?"  He shook his
head no, I continued.  "It is a large multinational consortium.  AFI is
currently operating businesses in information, light armaments, aircraft
engines, and agriculture.  They are presently moving into the entertainment
industry as well.

"The group makes it their policy to invest in areas that for one reason or
another are economically depressed.  As a banker, I'm sure, you know that
Clinton County falls in this category.  There is untapped potential here
and with the right amount of cash investment and leadership the economy can
be turned around.  Too much of the land is lying fallow.  Producing no
crops, contributing little to the economy except for taxes.  Even there the
amount of taxes paid is nominal."

 I could see the interest begin to sparkle in his eyes.  No doubt the idea
of a large account for his bank was enticing.  The question was would he be
a willing partner in the adventure that I was about to lay out for him. Or,
would I have to ply pressure.  I never like this part of the role that I
was forced to play.  Somewhere along the line I had gotten over my head.
At times, it seemed like I was only treading water just to keep from
drowning.  I didn't have many options if I wanted to keep my acting career.

"The Board of Directors would like to acquire large tracts of land in this
area with the intent to consolidate forming one large agribusiness.

"Mr. Sowell, it's our understanding that this bank holds the mortgages and
loans of various properties and AFI would like you to call in those loans
and mortgages..."

"That's impossible.  The lost interest would cause too great of a hit to
the bank."

"You did not let me finish.  Most if not all of these loans are personal
loans.  The bank can call in the loans at anytime. Is not that correct."  I
continued not giving him time to interrupt.

"AFI wishes to buy all of those loans.  The money deposited today will more
than cover the cost.  AFI purchases the properties by paying off the loans
with interest.  The bank loses nothing.  In return, AFI will invest in
these properties, taking out further loans as necessary or will invest
directly into the operation."  I paused seeing he had something to say.

"Yes. Most of are personal loans guarantied by the property.  But to call
in the loans would put whole families out into the cold.  It would have a
devastating effect on the economy of the entire county."  He had a worried
look on his face.  Fearful that the bank you lose the smallest of accounts.

"It is not AFI's intent to cause economic havoc or causing distress for the
people who presently own the land," I explained.  "AFI simply wants to buy
the property.  Turn all the land into one large operation.  All the
families will have the option to stay where they are.  Free of the burden
of making it from year to year.  Should the present landowner wish to
remain each would become an employee of AFI with substantial benefits.  All
costs will be born by AFI.  No land will go fallow.  The fifty million
deposited today is a drop in the bucket.

"If you don't want to call in the loans you can tell them there is a buyer
that will pay them what the land is worth including a lump sum cash bonus
for selling.  Again the bank loses nothing and the former landowner still
has the option to become an AFI employee.  Increasing their deposits to the
bank.  Those who take the cash option would not be entitled to the extended
benefit package.  It would be to every ones advantage if the seller were to
become an employee of AFI.  Of coarse some would take the money and leave
but that number should be lessen with the benefit package.

"AFI has spent considerable time, money and effort in this project to date.
Discovering that many of the operating farms barely break even
year-to-year.  They are family farms and are at risk of defaulting
depending on the weather.  Should that happen the bank could in up with the
land and having to auction it and the equipment off.  Forced farm sales
rarely recoup the amount of money invested by banks."

Sowell had a contemplative look on his face thinking through the various
outcomes of what I had so far laid out for him.  He was resting his head on
the back of his office chair as he looked at the wall behind me.  It gave
me the opportunity to look around the room.  His desk had nothing on it.
It was a small office filled with solid oak furniture not suitable for such
a small room.  It was if by choosing this type of furniture he was trying
to enlarge his importance to anyone who entered his office.  I noticed on
the wall behind him a small collection of photos framed in dark wood.  All
were of Sowell shaking his hand with the other person.  One that caught by
attention was with Sowell in front of a group of men.  They all wore
similar light blue coats.  What made is standout more than the others was
he was shaking Mick Johnson's hand.

Sowell cleared his throat drawing my attention.  He had a smug look
plastered across his face as he said, "Mr. Kaba, you're awfully young to be
purposing such a large and complex business proposition.  I think, should I
consent to this project, that I would have to speak to someone in AFI,
someone more senior in the company before I could entertain the offer."
Sowell finished with a dismissive tone.

I ignore him.

"Mr. Sowell, earlier I said that AFI was in the information business.
Before AFI makes an offer the company investigates all avenues.  Looking
for potential pitfalls.  Even when it comes to small town bank presidents,
like you."  I could see his body tighten with suspicion but I ignored it
glancing at the photo of him and Mick.

 "From the photo behind your desk, I see that you are acquainted with Mick
Johnson."  I stopped, looking straight at him.  He had a worried look.  No
longer feeling as confident.

"Mr. Johnson was a valued employee of AFI before making a few mistakes
ending with him going to prison.

"Yes Mr. Sowell, I am indeed young.  Remember that AFI is into gathering
information.  They are very efficient in obtaining it.  And AFI is even
more efficient in exploiting that information.  I possess information on
all of Mick Johnson's business deals and yours with him.

"When necessary, AFI is formidable when using that information to get what
they want.  Even going to the authorities to punish wrongdoings by anyone
that stands in their way.  Let me assure you that I have that information
and will, if forced, use it."  I finished, stood and as I began to open the
office door I looked at a shaken man, "Let me be very clear.  You were very
lucky not to get trapped in Mick Johnson petty schemes only because AFI
thought you could be of use to them, in the future.

"Before this day is over I will have SEC auditors and the FBI here going
over every account held by this bank and investigating every moment of your
life since birth.  Trust me when I say, they will find some very
interesting things.

"The computer age is a remarkable time.  When someone starts looking they
can find things about themselves that they never knew existed."

Sowell sat in his chair, behind the large oak desk, trying to use it as a
source of protection.  I knew that he had none.  He had help Mick transfer
money offshore and had been involved in Mick's operation of illegal drugs
transport.  He sat there what a dazed look on his face as if I had beaten
him around the head.

I turned away for him and opened the door.  Just as I started through
Sowell said, "Which properties is AFI interested in?"

Smiling to myself, I closed the door and reseated himself in front on him.
Sowell no longer look confident and had lost the air of superiority that he
had moments earlier when he tried to dismiss me.  Now he looked unsure,
frightened.

I spent another hour in the Bank Presidents office.  I opened the account
and made a call, having monies transferred from a bank in Liechtenstein.
Explaining how he would disperse the money.  When I told him which farms
that AFI needed it covered roughly twenty square miles and that more would
be absorbed over time.  He asked me about Brendan's farm telling me that it
would be a desirable addition since it sat one corner of the land AFI
wanted and it made a small indentation into the area we talked about.  As
he continued to press the for the inclusion of Brendan's farm he became
more insistent and referred to Brendan's lifestyle being incompatible with
the morays on the county until I finally had had enough.

"Listen carefully, Mr. Sowell.  I gave Mick Johnson a similar warning.
Leave Brendan Kohl alone.  AFI does not want his land.  If fact should
Mr. Kohl come into this bank asking for a loan, money set aside for this
operation is to be given to him and anyone associated with him.  Should you
not follow my instructions, I will see to it that you obtain the same
treatment that Mick Johnson received.  Mr. Kohl has a benefactor inside of
AFI and would not take kindly should his farms not receive a helping hand
and fail in what he is attempting to accomplish.  You do not want to piss
this person off.  Do you understand me?  I will be watching and since you
are taking directions from me you will follow them as I give them.
Understand?"

Sowell swallowed several times and nodded his head.

Hank Sowell was no longer just the President of a small town bank. He was
now a bit player in a much larger drama.  And if he stepped out of
character it would cost him everything.  He was a part of the scheme and if
he failed to play the part I was determined to crush the weasel. He was a
bloodsucker and I was going to make him suck.

After leaving the bank I started towards the directions to the diner that I
was to join Brendan for lunch.  Then we would be returning to his place.
As I neared the center of town my cell phone rang.  Looking at the incoming
number I new it was my handler.  I explained how the meeting with Sowell
had gone down after I threaten to turn him over to the Feds and I thought
that he would have to be on a short leash.  The handler agreed, which meant
that I would have to visit Sowell several times over the next few months.
I quickly agreed, since I could be with Brendan.  When the handler asked
about Brendan, I gave a quick rundown on what I had learned.  The man was
not pleased giving me instructions to visit Mick and deliver to him AFI's
displeasure.  Rather Brendan's benefactor's displeasure.

I wasn't looking forward to seeing Mick again.  Knowing what the outcome
would likely be.  It would be the same outcome that Mick's handler received
when Mick failed to follow the rules.  It would be long and painful.

And I was determined not to be a recipient of the same end.

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