Chapter 13 - Distortion, Distraction, and Discovery

Having left the parking with his new toy awkwardly, yet securely wedged in to the back seating area of his BMW, Finne felt relief not only for the lack of complications he encountered to purchase what he wanted but also by the confirmation of his suspicions about the people around him recently. The FBI was involved which meant that many of the recent things he considered out of the norm, probably were. No worries. Finne walked off any nervousness on the way to the car. Now heading north on Springvale Rd. towards the river Finne was confident that the federal investigators were not looking to arrest him, as he has presented several opportunities for them to approach him unarmed. Likely, he thought, this involved a re-up of his security clearance or someone he knew was under similar scrutiny. Just to be sure, Finne had thrown the last half of his joint out the window in the middle of the first large intersection he had crossed. No one could retrieve it from there and find any useful evidence.

Heading North yet downhill towards the river seemed like a contradiction in Finne’s mind. The tall maple and oak trees so prevalent in Virginia’s landscape created a canopy over the two-lane road shading the sunlight and producing a dark tunnel-like atmosphere. Finne was alone on the road. He could see ahead and behind at least a half-mile and no one was coming or going in either direction around him. With the canopy above, Finne knew that he could not be seen by a drone or helicopter, so he pulled to the shoulder under a well-shaded area of trees. Finne popped the trunk lever and unlocked his doors before getting out. First he went to the passenger side of the call and reached under the dashboard to get the small stash box of bud that he kept hidden there. This is a shame he thought as he opened the box and dumped the beautiful green, red, and crystalic flower on the ground. Next wiped down the perfect-sized plastic box that he bought at the Container Store and threw it in the other direction across the road. A quick check of the trunk turned up a half a pack of Joker rolling papers which are not illegal in themselves, but definitely would provide a good impression. Finne shut the trunk and dropped the rolling papers in front of the left rear tire before getting back into the driver’s seat. As he spun his wheels on the climb from the shoulder to the road, he knew the rolling papers had been trashed to the point that fingerprints were impossible even if someone found them and cared to try to figure out who touched them. He was driving clean. Best to be safe when it can come back to bite your, he thought.

Approaching the turn towards Georgetown Pike, Finne began to feel increasingly nervous. He was still the only car on the road as far back and in front of him that he could see. The suburban traffic in this area is usually light but consistent with people commuting between homes, farms and the various retail and commercial establishments stretched out over the near river countryside and the larger cities, such as, Leesburg nearby. What could be going on? As Finne rounded the top of a small hill in the roadway, he caught sight of large truck ahead of him down the hill. He quickly dismissed his feelings of isolation and down-shifted to reduce his speed as he approached the truck. As Finne got closer he saw a dark brown tree services truck and shredder trailer stopped on the side of his lane and the shoulder with a crew of four workers standing in the other lane. Behind them and in front of their truck a large sycamore tree trunk lay across the road. Ah Hah! The road is closed, Finne thought. At least the tree guys are here. Maybe they can open the road shortly and save me the time and effort to double back to the nearest detour route, though Finne.

Finne pulled his car to the side of the road roughly 100 feet behind the truck and shredder and got out of his car. He read “ACACIA Tree Services, LLC “ on the side of the over-sized brown covered truck as he approached the group of men in similar colored uniforms ahead. “Good thing you guys are here.” Finne exclaimed trying to get their attention and see if he could gain their sympathies. “I know it will take me 45 minutes to detour around this to get where I need to go. If I offer to help, could we cut through this thing faster?”

All four men turned toward Finne as if they had just broken up a huddle. Three of the men walked towards Finne at a uniform pace but with slightly diverse paths such that they began to fan out in front of him as the approached. The fourth man looked directly into Finne’s eyes and replied, “We are going to cut through this thing fast, Mr. Seldnak. Your offer to help makes our job much easier.”

Finne’s jovial mode turned to panic instantly when he was identified by name. Before he could process his flight or fight emotions, the first man to approach him from his left had taken exceptionally strong hold of Finne’s left forearm. Finne swung his right fist toward the face of the man clasping his arm but his swing was caught in mid motion at the elbow by the man to his right. Finne’s feet were swept out from underneath him and he was quickly manipulated into a standard police hold lying on his face with both hands restrained behind his back. Thick plastic cable ties were secured around Finne’s wrists and ankles. Then Finne was stood up in front of the only man to have spoken a word since he pulled up.

“You didn’t scream” he said. “No one would hear me if I did out here” Finne replied. “Exactly” was the only response.

The man in front of Finne was just about 6 feet tall and looked to be carrying 200lbs on him though it was hard to tell with the bulky tree service jumpsuit covering him up. He had an athletic looking jaw and face, Finne observed. Likely, he was built like a linebacker and was as strong as one too. He motioned to the other men with a nod of his head in the direction of the truck. Before Finne could follow the glance towards the right side of the road, two hand picked him up from under his armpits and he was lifted off of his feet and being carried toward the backend of the truck and trailer into the area illuminated by the headlights of his running car.

“This is the end of the branch for you” Finne heard as dark hood was placed over his head from behind. Next a secondary motor being started followed by a loud combustion noise Finne knew was the sound of the shredder being warmed up. A sustained bursts of grinding followed for 6 seconds that felt like 6 minutes to Finne. “You can take comfort in knowing that the branch that was just shredded was as thick as your shoulders and taller than you by a foot. Also, tree trunks are much harder to grind than flesh and bones.”