"The farm is over two-hundred thousand acres, right in the center of Nebraska. It's over fifteen miles wide and over twenty miles deep," The little man in the suit who went by the name of Mister Smith told Lewis. Lewis sighed, he'd paid attention to the briefing by the massive agricorp.

Just doing it on American soil made him feel dirty.

"Apparently the state won't grant us immanent domain because she's got veteran status," Mr. Smith complained. "It's been in their family since the 1800's," he snorted. "I hear its even got a graveyard out back."

Lewis felt even more dirty for what he was about to do.

He pulled up the farm gate, using the heavy brush guard on the civilian Hummer2 to push it open without bothering to unlock it. The hinges screeched and the gate fell forward in a plume of summer dust.

"Repairing that gate will cost money," Mister Smith said.

Always with the bean counting.

The road was long, nearly a mile, and the Hummer2 that Lewis was driving, as well as the four following him, all painted black like his, kicked up a lot of dust. One either side fresh green growing corn went by.

Finally the corn opened up into a short field, where Lewis could see cows grazing, and then to a packed dirt parking area in front of an old two story house. It looked old, like something you'd see out of Civil War pictures. Lewis automatically counted three battered pickup trucks and four cars of various make and models, the oldest being a 1960's Ford Mustang muscle car practically dripping in chrome.

Lewis pulled up in front, the other vehicles peeling off so it was two on a side, each slightly back from the other. As Lewis shut off the Hummer2 and got out he saw men stand up in the roof hatches, attaching light machineguns to the pintle mounts.

Lewis hoped the obvious firepower would convince the woman to sign.

Mister Smith got out, dusting off his suit, and started to walk forward.

The front door opened inward, then the screen door banged open to allow a woman in a flower print dress to walk onto the covered porch. She held a shotgun loosely in her hands as she stopped on the porch.

"That's far enough," She called out. "Ya'll get the hell offa muh prah-purtee!"

"I think not, Missus Taggart," Mr. Smith called out.

Lewis frowned. Taggart. Why did that twinge an old memory?

"Ah tol' ya before, I ain't sellin'!" She called out.

"Missus Taggart, look around. Nobody can show up to help you in time. You can do this the easy way..." Mister Smith let the threat hang in the hot Nebraska summer air.

Lewis was still trying to remember where he had heard that name, still trying to figure out why alarm bells were ringing in his head, when the screen door opened and more people came out.

The first one sparked all kind of memories for Lewis. All bad ones. From that eye patch to the heavy brace on his left leg to the scarred up left side of his face. That thump drag thump of his left leg made Lewis's skin prickle up in goosebumps despite the heat.

Then a Texan, right down to cowboy hat, big belt buckle, and cowboy boots. Followed by a lanky short guy with a scar under his left eye. Another short guy with a limp who exuded malevolence even at a twenty yard distance. Two massive women, one taller than the other, but both in wife-beater T-shirts that showed off just how big their biceps were. A tall Hispanic woman with a scar on the side of her face from jaw to hairline. Lastly, two smaller women, both petite, one blonde one redhead.

Lewis suddenly had to pee.

"You heard her. Get the fuck out," the one eyed guy snarled.

"So, you hired a few strong men, Missus Taggart?" Mister Smith scoffed. "Are you really prepared to risk your life in a gunfight?"

"Uh, Lewis?" The guy on the light machinegun mounted on the vehicle just to the right said. "This isn't a good idea."

Lewis opened his mouth to agree, his mouth growing dry, as he stared at the gathered group.

Where was the short woman with the scar around her right eye? This was a nightmare for Lewis. If she wasn't here, was she staring at the bridge of his nose through a sniper rifle scope?

"Quiet. Your input isn't required at this time," Mister Smith told Johnson, glancing at him with a look of disdain.

"Sir, we need to leave. Right now," Lewis said, walking forward and grabbing Mister Smith's arm. The short corporate bureaucrat tried to pull his arm away but Lewis held tight. When Mister Smith looked up, Lewis shook his head.

"Listen to Commander Lewis, buddy. You hired a SEAL for his expertise, you should listen," The one eye guy yelled.

"Let's just kill them," the short one with the black hair and limp croaked. His voice sounded like a dying raven.

"Let's talk first," The massive woman wearing sunglasses said.

"Get in the vehicle. Now. Right now," Lewis told Mister Smith. He looked around at the rest of his men. All Special Forces from all four branches. Two of them had already lifted their hands from their machineguns and the other three were following, moving slowly.

"But," Mister Smith protested. Lewis started dragging Mister Smith to the door.

"Get in," Lewis said, stuffing the little man into the vehicle.

"Don't come back," The one eyed guy said. "You won't like what will happen. I've seen all your faces, I know who you are."

"No problem, no problem," One of the gunners said.

Lewis stopped at the door, holding his hand up. "We won't be back. They might hire others, but none of us will be back."

"Good plan," Missus Taggart called out from the porch. "Mister Smith there might have powerful friends, but I have dangerous friends."

"Tell Dow Chemical that they won't like what happens if they push this war," The one eyed man stated.

Lewis nodded and got into the Hummer2, the air conditioner making him shiver.

"What are you doing?" Mister Smith asked.

"Saving all of our lives," Lewis told him, starting the vehicle and putting it into reverse.

"But, we outnumbered them. We have machineguns," Mister Smith said.

Lewis put it in drive and began driving down the dirt road. "Trust me, Mister Smith, we're only alive because they let us live."

The Hummer2 bounced over the knocked down gate. "I'd advise you to cut her a check for that gate, Mister Smith."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Dow Chemical Corporation Headquarters
Agricultural Consortium Division
CEO Bradley's Office
22 Hours Later

The secretary smiled as she closed the door, leaving Lewis in the office with Mister Smith and Mr Bradley. Bradley sat behind a large mahagony desk with a computer on it, Mister Smith sat in a chair, still looking angry as he had during the entire trip back.

"Sit, Mister Lewis, or should I call you Commander Lewis?" Mr. Bradley asked.

"Lewis is just fine, sir," the big ex-SEAL said, sitting down.

"Drink?" Mr. Bradley asked.

"Please, my nerves are a little jangled," Lewis said.

"Mister Smith was telling me that you backed off of a property acquisition," Mister Bradley said, pouring the drinks.

"We were in trouble. We're lucky we got out it alive," Lewis said, feeling sweat bead up on his lower back. He took the offered drink, throwing it all back and holding it out. Mr. Bradley raised an eyebrow, but refilled the drink. "We walked, no, I led us into a god damned ambush."

Mr Smith scoffed. "It was just a bunch of people standing outside. The only armed was the guy in the cowboy hat, and all he had was a pair of old six-shooters like it was the Old West."

Mr. Bradley nodded, sitting down. "Go on, Mister Smith."

"We pulled in, the men deployed their light machineguns to intimidate the woman. She then revealed she had hired mercenaries of," Mr. Smith started.

"They aren't mercenaries," Lewis said.

Mr. Smith waved his hand. "Some men and women came out, and Mister Lewis here lost his nerve and we left because the woman had a shotgun and the cowboy had some six-guns."

Mr. Bradley turned to Lewis and raised an eyebrow. "Is this true?"

"If you don't know who those people were," Lewis said, sipping at the whiskey. He tossed a 3.5 inch floppy disk to Mr. Bradley. "That's what little declassified information I could access, even with my contacts. It's a Word document."

Mr. Bradley put in the disk and the computer whirred to life. He sat there reading the files, his face getting paler and paler.

"These... people... are extremely dangerous, Mister Smith," Mister Bradley said. His voice trembled slightly. "You haven't authorized any other operations against Miss Taggart, have you?"

"No, Mister Lewis there seems frightened of her," Mister Smith said. "We're Dow Chemical Corps, nothing she can do can really touch us."

Lewis felt his gut clench and when the secretary suddenly opened the door, smiling, Lewis had the sudden urge to throw up.

She was holding a single rose with a ribbon attaching an envelope to it.

"Your wife sent you this, sir. I brought it right in," The secretary said, moving forward to set the rose on his desk.

"Thank you, Amanda," Mr. Bradley said.

"Oh, Mister Smith, there's a flower and letter from you too. It's from your daughter," Amanda smiled.

"Oh, why, thank you, please bring it in," Mister Smith said.

Lewis's gut clenched, but the secretary didn't have one for him, which made him breath easier.

"A moment," Mister Bradley said. He popped the envelope open and tilted it onto his desk.

Mister Smith tore open the end of his and blew into it to pop the end open.

White powder spilled out on Mister Bradley's desk. Mister Smith's face was covered by white powder that puffed out of the envelope. He began coughing as Lewis grabbed at his hip out of old military habit.

The card that had slid from the envelope was plain on Mister Bradley's desk.

Mister Bradley looked up at Lewis, terror on his face.

"It's just talcum powder, sir, that's all. Just a warning," Lewis said.

Mister Bradley nodded. "Send Missus Taggart a note apologizing for disturbing her and pay for her gate to be repaired," He looked down at the note and swallowed thickly.

"They'll stop here, sir, if you do," Lewis said. Bradley nodded then looked down at the note.

The note sat on the desk.

It held one word.

TOUCH