CHAPTER NINETEEN

"We need to go back and get another day under our belts," said Noah. "We learned a great deal by being out there, and I think the women will go back and tell the others."

"I don't like how close that man got to Julia, Ruby, and Mama," said Gaspar.

"We were all there to protect them," said U-Jin. "You have my word that no harm will come to them."

"I know, brother. It's just that these guys are playing for keeps. They have no qualms about killing women for money, jewelry, property, anything. I just think it's all shitty, and I want to stop it."

"Mr. Gaspar?" said the sweet voice of Spencer. His faithful companion, Nigel, was at his side.

"Hi, buddy. We're in a meeting right now. Is this important?" he asked the boy with a smile.

"I think so, sir. Nigel and me were watching television in the cafeteria this morning. We like the political channels and watching all the information about congressional seats. It's pretty cool."

"It is pretty cool. But is that important, Spencer?"

"Yes, sir. There's a man running for Congress in Georgia. His name is Charlie Gates. Everyone is predicting he'll win by a landslide and that he'll be the next name for president."

"Alright. I'm still not following, Spencer."

"Charlie Gates is a retired Atlanta police captain. He was head of their union, became a leader in the national police union, and he owns a restaurant and bar called The Shield."

"Holy shit," muttered Nine. Spencer and Nigel laughed.

"We thought that too," smirked Nigel, "but we can't say that. We figured it was important, so we did some research for you. Captain Gates had a very high success rate in the department, but he was also investigated by Internal Affairs six times. He's not married. He doesn't have any kids. That seems weird."

"Buddy, that is weird," said Fitz, their adoptive father. "Did you learn anything else that you could share?"

"Uh, well, promise you won't get mad?" asked Nigel. Fitz laughed. That usually meant that the boys investigated something they weren't supposed to.

"I promise," smiled Fitz.

"We looked at his bank account. Charlie Gates is the primary owner of multiple retirement homes, but he doesn't use his real name. It's under the name of his company, PFPJ."

"PFPJ? What does that stand for?" asked Nine.

"We couldn't find anything, but we wrote a program that could give us possible answers," smiled Spencer. The men just smiled at the kids. They were so proud of themselves, and they obviously found something helpful.

"The best answer the program came up with is ‘police for police justice.' We think it's a little dig that only they know about. Charlie Gates has millions of dollars in investments. Multi-millions. He also has roughly two hundred and nine employees. All former police officers in Atlanta. They're paid every month, but it's not the same amount."

"Not the same amount? Why?" asked Ian.

"We think, me and Spencer, oh, and we asked Mr. Jean to be sure we were right. But we think they get a percentage of what they bring in that month. That's why it's always different. But every man gets the same amount."

"Smart," nodded Ghost. "He's not pitting them against each other like a competition. Instead, they're rooting for one another to succeed. If they're all successful, everyone gets the bigger check."

"We did something else," smirked Spencer.

"Is it something dangerous?" asked Fitz, staring at his sons.

"You said you wouldn't get mad," frowned Nigel. Fitz just grinned at him, shaking his head.

"I won't get mad. I just want to know if it was dangerous."

"Not really. I mean, they won't know that we did it. We did a search for any wills that listed any of the two hundred men as beneficiaries."

"And?" asked Ian. "How many?"

"One hundred and thirty-two."

"What's the likelihood of him winning the congressional seat?" asked Miller.

"He's leading in the polls by nearly twenty percent," said Spencer. "There's no doubt he will win."

"Well, then," said Ghost, looking at his friends, "let's create some doubt."