It was a bright sunny morning in Cave Junction’s most exclusive gated community. Stan Ransom, rubbing sweat from his brow, stretched and looked into the dimness of the open garage. It was full of boxes. Orderly, white clean boxes of all sizes. Thinking Looks out-of-place for a suburban neighborhood, he turned to look towards the street where the white wholesale market’s van was parked.He could smell the ionized air expelled by it's silent plasma ion motor. It was a goodly distance away, down a long driveway running through the largish property which was bordered by eight foot Oleander Bushes. All grown together they created an effective hedge, inhibiting the curiosity of passing neighbors Heat waves from the morning sun on the driveway rippled through Stans vision. Stan, who was already partialy blinded by the bright sunlight, called to Ronald Georgestein, his helper in the unloading. “Do you see anything, Ron? I have the strangest feeling we are being watched. The delivery man who was on the other side of the hand- truck they had been muscling, blurted out, “T’aint strange at tal, there’s a creep over in those Oley’s. Stan shaded his eyes to look, then thought better of it. “Let’s get this stuff in before we draw a crowd.