Heavy Pressure, Pizza Parties, And Free Lunches.

FBI Regional Headquarters, Chelsea, Massachusetts

Wallace Q. Hughes F.B.I sat in front of two stacks of report folders. His desk lamp had been on for over thirteen hours, but he was not tired. He knew in his gut what was emerging could shift his career one way or the other.  

The dead Russian, two Afghanis who worked at the National Security Agency, and two of the principal owners of WLT were deceased.  

Huges read and summarized in his head.

The reports from the agents in the field concerning Welch, Lemerise, and Tanner were being compiled, and a story began to emerge with International leanings.

According to the WLT ex-employees, what was once a fun, easy-going workplace became task-driven with enforced deadlines and a lot of yelling from mid-level management. It had never been like this. 

Thirty-six months earlier, Welch announced that he landed a "Five Armored Truck" contract. 

It was apparent in the company halls money was flowing in. Everything old was replaced with something new. New desks, computers, and even a state-of-the-art refrigerator were put in the old break room.

It was a strange balance that the employees wrestled with. With the free lunches, Friday pizza parties, and shiny equipment came the thumbscrews and pressure that enforced deadlines created.

Whoever dropped all that cash had a schedule that had to be met.

Interviews with ex-workers from the accounts payable, receivables, and legal departments revealed: "The final payments to the firm's principals, Welch, Lemerise, and Tanner, were contingent on a schedule of milestones that had to be met on time."  If anything was off, the final payments would be reduced.

Hard work that is rewarded is one thing, but the employees painted a picture of a shift in expectations. Most workers thought they were not compensated enough to put up with a layer of mid-management that felt the whip and were then obligated to do their whipping. A handful of long-term employees left, and they were replaced in record time.

The Big Project was local, In New Hampshire.

The three principals controlled knowledge of the location and its purpose. 

These were some of the demands of the clients. 

The onsite guy, Lemerise or Lem, hired close to one hundred workers housed at the job in trailers. The men worked six and a half days a week. The workers would appear at the gate, and Lem was told to hire them. 

The contractor supplied armed security workers to the site who controlled access and also prevented the workers from leaving. 

Invoices were traced back to grocery suppliers who reported delivering the ingredients for what appeared to be Asian and Latin food. 

The big bills came from a cement contractor that was now out of business.  

The FBI determined the site's location between the invoices from the provisions company and the Geo Trackers on six now-for-sale state-of-the-art cement trucks.

Hughes did not mess around thinking too hard when he saw that the contractor provided armed security.

The next call would ensure his pension. Hughes got on the blower to his boss.  

Thirty minutes later, two Tactical Response teams were wheels up and heading for the airport in Manchester, New Hampshire, with all their equipment.

Almost Three Months Earlier - Northern New Hampshire

Lem was sad to see this beauty come to an end. This dream project allowed him to stay home for all his kid's events for the last three years. It was nice not to place awkward phone calls to a kid who wants their Dad to be there for important stuff. No calls from Qatar, Tunisia, or Ukraine, just "I may be a little late for dinner tonight."  Magda was thrilled, of course.

The temporary housing had been dismantled, and the workers loaded into buses. The contractor arranged this, and Lem didn't know where the buses were headed.

The Security workers, an odd bunch, Lem thought, were summoned to the underground garage to have a celebratory lunch and to pick up their bonus checks. The ten of them had worked hard and maintained an air-tight environment. Nobody got in or out of the site without them knowing it and documenting it.

They placed their rifles near the door and sat at the long table usually used for blueprints.

A buffet was set up on a table, and everyone sat to enjoy their food.

Lem was the first to see three men walk in from a side access door, and he didn't have time to ask them who they were. The first round hit him, and Lem dropped to the deck. He never had a chance to flee or duck. The security workers were all shot next. It happened so fast that only one could stand and draw a pistol, but he didn't have time to fire.

Andrei dropped him with one shot.

The three men, all former Russian Spetznaz Commandos, checked to see if each man was dead. Yuri was sent to drive a truck into the garage, and when he returned, the bodies were placed in the bed. 

A hole had been dug on the northernmost perimeter where the dead were dumped like trash and then covered up using a backhoe.

Andrei noticed a blood spot on his coveralls and wondered whether four million Euros was enough for this job.