Read Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack for Free Online Page A

  The excitement now was palpable and I had a new sense of purpose.  I was bringing order to an otherwise chaotic world.  Alright, that was a bit dramatic, but there definitely was an amount of fun and interest in my new endeavor that I found, well, gratifying.
    During the rest of March and into May we picked up other cases, examined records, did interviews, and gathered contracts.  I was starting to get the hang of things, even the lingo that was spewed out, all under the watchful eye and tutelage of Dan Galveston.
    We had become a well -tuned unit, like Laurel and Hardy mixed with Starsky and Hutch.  We received more and more job opportunities.  Some were successful, some not, and many times the company that hired us was wrong.  Key contract negotiations allowed us to rack up sizable payments and stay, barely, in the black.
    We proved ourselves to be better than other investigators by bringing our cases in under time.  Regardless of how long it took we would only get paid one sum.  No made up hours or crazy bills for a thirty dollar ham sandwich, or four hours of billing for paperwork.  We convinced or clients that they were saving money with us over other investigators.  We didn’t have a real office, no other employees, and only a cheap fax machine, so our overhead was nonexistent.  This allowed us to get our price below what anyone else was offering. 
    By June things were going well.  Word of mouth spread and we put our feelers out for bigger fish to fry.  We developed more scrupulous and unscrupulous measures, choosing to take a more creative approach to things.  We would pose as everything from janitors to handymen to exterminators, with Galveston’s mouth leading the way.
    Galveston said believing you are who you say you are helped ease the pain of, technically, committing breaking and entering, or fraud.  We had an almost cavalier approach to our exploits and on our next job, the biggest yet, we would have to pull out all the stops. 

-Chapter 10-
     
    On a small Mexican airfield across the border from Arizona, activity was increasing at a dirt airfield simply know as Elias North, about 30 miles south of Yuma, Arizona. 
    It was a dusty, dirty, and sparse place.  Yucca plants and cacti dotted the landscape and a rough dirt road careened its way around rocks and through shallow ravines toward the field.  Sitting under the blazing June summer sun were two off-road Jeeps parked under the limbs of a paltry mesquite tree.  Five men were scattered about, dressed in army green fatigues with rifles slung at their sides.  One man, known as Colonel Espinosa, fiddled with a satellite phone.
    “ Vamanos muchachos,” he barked at the rest of the men.  The men immediately jumped in their vehicles and bumped their way to the end of the dusty dirt runway, which was rutted and soft, the product of poor upkeep and care.
    The Colonel stood up in the Jeep and turned his gaze to the north.  On the horizon, low over the terrain, a dot appeared and grew larger, the sound becoming louder as it approached. 
    The outline of a twin engine Rockwell 690B Turbo Commander appeared and began its approach to the runway with its wings wavering in the wind.  It was a light transport aircraft, capable of carrying heavy loads for its size, but on this day it was only carrying one piece of important cargo.  It touched down, sending up a billowing cloud of dust that floated down the runway and settled over the waiting men. 
    The plane’s door popped open and out stepped a neatly dressed man in a long sleeve shirt and pants with dark sunglasses , it was Sergeant Walker.  He reached to his seat and pulled out a silver briefcase, larger than what a businessman would carry.
    Walker began to walk toward the Colonel, but stopped midway, set the case down, and held out his hand.  With his fingers he flashed a one, four, one and three.  The Colonel punched the numbers into his satellite phone and put the phone to his ear,