Private Investigators Steve Rockfish and Jawnie McGee's loyalty is tested when they are called upon to rescue a friend whose plan to grift a local Militia goes awry. The ruse rebrands expiring MREs as Q-Rations, focuses on fear, and targets those with an anti-government mindset.
Rockfish and McGee arrive in the dilapidated steel town of Grindsville and are quick to realize the Penn Forest Patriots are more than weekend LARPers. The partner's investigation uncovers a devious plot to light the fuse on a series of domestic terrorism events and throw the country into chaos.
The lack of a timely response by Federal Law Enforcement swiftly constitutes an emergency on Rockfish and McGee’s part. The plot forces them to empty their analytical and investigative skill sets across two states in an attempt to mitigate the threat. Can they prevent the terror cell from igniting the next insurrection and running out the clock on America’s democracy?
"Steve Rockfish is back and kicking militia ass. In fact, the whole crew is back, busting balls as they solve crimes and track down the bad guys. The wisecracks fly fast and furious. So do the twists and turns. The bad guys are badder, the danger more dangerous, and every character as endearing as they are dysfunctional. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough."
~ Haris Orkin, award-winning author of The James Flynn Escapades
"Prepare for twists, turns, and more than a few laugh-out loud moments in this rollercoaster of a thriller that pits wise-cracking private investigator Steve Rockfish and his band of unlikely cohorts against a right-wing extremist militia group with a dangerous agenda."
~ Patti Liszkay, author of The Equal and Opposite Reactions Trilogy
"Great gobs of serious yet hilarious crime-solving by Steve and Jawnie, along with their cast of friends ranging from dependable to what-the-hell-now crazy. Absolutely a fun ride! But I warn you, you'll want to read the entire series tonight."
~ Val Conrad, author of The Julie Madigan Thriller Series
You've reached Rockfish & McGee, Investigative Specialists. At the tone, leave your name and message. Someone will get back to you at our earliest convenience. [Beep]
"Steve, why don't you ever answer your cell? I'm in deep shit here and you are my one call. Grindsville. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, heading west. The locals have me locked up on a trumped-up charge. You gotta believe me, Steve. I didn't do a damn thing..."
The partners stood around Lynn's desk and listened to the voicemail, left the previous evening. Their administrative assistant had heard Raffi's plea for help first, and immediately reached out to Rockfish and Jawnie to advise of a friend of the office's predicament.
"I'm guessing you didn't pick up his call yesterday?" Jawnie said, with a perturbed look on her face.
"Would you want to talk to Raffi every time he calls?" Rockfish said, raising his own eyebrows. "Plus, I didn't know it was him. The notification came up, Unknown Caller, and I forwarded it to the office line. I assumed it was spam, figured we'd listen and handle it on Monday. And well, here we are. Plus, I didn't want to mute the television. It was that new Marvel movie, Hawkgirl Takes Topeka."
"DC Universe, but I totally get where you're coming from," Jawnie said with a grin. "Too bad it wasn't a scammer halfway around the world calling regarding our Medicare benefits."
"If I was his only call, then he's expecting me to come up there and bail him out. Where the hell is Grindsville, anyway?"
"Central Pennsylvania, Boss," Lynn said. She glanced up from her computer at Jawnie and Rockfish, standing on the other side. "Two hours east of Pittsburgh. What do you think he did?"
"You heard as much of that rambling message as I did. Lord knows what type of scheme he had in mind and was trying to run on the rural bumpkins," Rockfish said. He stepped back into the office's bullpen area before slumping into his favorite recliner. This is the last damn thing I need today. The Andrist case keeps raising its ugly head and I don't have the time to handle two problem children at once. Where is my morning coffee?
"Steve, you know as well as I do Raffi's voicemail changes with each money-making opportunity," Jawnie said. He hadn't noticed she followed him and had taken up her normal seat on the couch, laptop open and at the ready. "Might as well dial and listen. It might give you a leg up on what you're facing in Grindsville. Assuming you're going and someone powered down his phone. It's probably in an evidence storage locker. The call should go straight to voicemail. If you're considering following up on this."
"You know as well as I do, I can't leave him hanging," Rockfish said. "Google says it's anywhere between three and four hours to get there as the Lana flies. If I can get out of here before noon, I might have him sprung before dinner." He shifted his body in the chair and turned toward Lynn's desk. "Lynn, let's hear it."
"Speed dial four on speaker. Gimme a sec."
Rockfish and Jawnie got up and stood around Lynn's desk. They both leaned across and listened as the number rang once and rolled over to voicemail.
"Hello, you've reached the desk of Raphael Pérez, President of Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. Please visit our website, www.Q-Rations.biz for orders and to view our FAQ. Please leave a message and a true patriot will get back to you shortly. God Bless."
"He's catering to the insurrectionists, isn't he?" Jawnie said. The concern in her face was clear, and Rockfish wasn't sure how to answer. He chose his words carefully. Raffi was a friend.
What am I going to tell her she already doesn't know? The guy will do practically anything to make a buck, no matter the gray area involved. Social, political or moral issue be damned. That's Raffi.
"Jawnie, we've all got parts of us that aren't the most desirable. Hell, look at me. Who the fuck in their right mind would want to be associated with me?"
"Are you implying I'm not in my right mind?"
"Yeah, me too," Lynn said. "Shots fired, Steve."
Rockfish walked back to his chair and stood behind it, elbows resting on the back. "That's damn well not what I meant, and you both know it."
Both women cracked smiles, and Rockfish relaxed for a minute before continuing.
"We all know he straddles that line, but I've known him longer than either of you two. The man's in it for the money. Nothing more, nothing less. Let me go figure out what kind of mess he's gotten himself into and we can revisit adjusting his moral compass when I get back."
Rockfish poured himself a cup of coffee. I'll need more than this tonight after I sweet-talk his ass out of jail. Might as well stop at the liquor store before making the drive. Hotel bar drinks are on the expensive side. Shop for a happy ending and will it into existence.
"I'm headed back to my office. Try to figure out my next couple of moves and exactly what he was doing up in the middle of nowhere." He turned and walked down the short hallway to his private office.
Once out of the sight of prying eyes, Rockfish finished constructing his homemade Irish coffee and turned on his monitor. I need to figure this mess out. The sooner the better. Patriot Meals on American Wheels and something about rations. Since the Porbeagle case, Raffi usually focused his semi-legitimate business opportunities on the bumpkins he felt he could run circles around intelligence-wise. Especially should any part of his half-assed plans go sideways. Only makes sense he zeroed on those who continue to celebrate January 6th. Best to start researching with his website and gather what I can.
Rockfish picked up his desk phone and dialed Raffi's cell again. He jotted down the URL on a pink Post-it and stuck it to the bottom of his monitor. I need to talk to Lynn. We need good old-fashioned yellow ones. At least for me.
His fingers tapped out the web address and Rockfish paused as his pinky hovered over the return key. Do I really want to know? Can't I drive up there with a credit card and pay the fine or whatever percentage of his bail the bondsman requires? You should know this already. The less you know about the man's shenanigans, the better. No chance of being sucked into the Raffi vortex.
Curiosity won out and the Q-Rations.biz website filled the screen.
In the years since Jawnie had arrived on scene, Rockfish now had more experience with the Information Super Highway. While he wasn't on her level, even he had to question the design of Raffi's cracker-jack website. Looks like a site a middle school kid made in 1998. I can almost hear the dial-up modem noise.
The top of the page read Q-Rations against a black background, the letters alternating between red, white, and blue. The image flickered every couple of seconds. How many patriots had visited the site with full intentions to buy this shit but suffered a seizure before navigating to their shopping cart? Under the image was the slogan from the voicemail, Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. What really caught Rockfish's attention was the picture directly to the right of the bit of jingoism. Raffi stood at attention, dressed in what Rockfish thought was George C. Scott's uniform from the opening scene in Patton. His right hand cocked and saluting.
The set of balls on this guy, but give him credit, he knows his audience. Pander to them until they open their wallets and then turn the grift up a few more notches.
The rest of the site's front page laid out a story full of fear mongering and catered to the benefits of hoarding Q-Rations. Each meal would be priceless once Hillary Clinton, the newly appointed Biden Gun-Czar, came a knocking on your door. Think the supply chain is fucked six ways to Sunday now? Wait until George Soros declares martial law. Repackaged MREs? How did he come up with this idea? Rockfish imagined the interest and rising demand. He wondered where Raffi would or had gotten his supply from. He ain't cooking and packaging this shit in the basement of his townhome.
The rest of the page detailed the different options of Q-Rations available for purchase, but Rockfish had seen and read enough. He moved his mouse over to the top of the browser and printed the page, before hollering down the hallway to where Lynn and Jawnie continued to talk.
"Lynn, can you use that webcrawly thing and download me a copy of Raffi's entire website?" Rockfish said. "Chuck it on a USB along with the prison voicemail, and I'll take it with me. I'm not sure what kind of internet I'll have out in the mountains of West Central Pennsylvania."
"Gotcha, Boss. I'm on it," Lynn said.
"You're a lifesaver." Rockfish smiled to himself and heard a light knock. He glanced up to see Jawnie standing in the open doorway.
"You're going this alone? There's something to be said about going lone wolf in that area of the country, if you know what I mean. Plus, I don't have the time to find a good-looking shot for when the milk container people call for your missing person picture."
"I get it, but he's my friend, and occasional support to this office," Rockfish said with a shrug. "Listen, I'll run up there, grab a hotel, pay his fine and come back with him riding shotgun in the morning. Worst case, it's bail money instead of a fine, but at least he'll be back on the street and owe me one."
Jawnie shifted her weight from one leg to the other and leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. Rockfish understood his reasoning, hadn't fully sold his partner on the trip. In fact, Rockfish had lost count of exactly how many favors Raffi currently owed him.
"I can see you still don't think it's a grand plan. But if you come, who's going to stay here and handle Andrist? I mean, I love he keeps hiring us, but that man is a handful and I can't, in good faith, ask Lynn to deal with him on an almost daily basis." Rockfish saw this line of reasoning was an easier sell by Jawnie's nod and expression.
"He is our best client at the moment," Jawnie said. "Best paying, too."
"Coddle him. Hold his meetings at arm's length. Do whatever you need. I'll be back before noon tomorrow and be on my phone at all times," Rockfish said. He stood up and grabbed his messenger bag and laptop.
"You're leaving right this instant?"
"Yeah, I need to swing by Bass Pro Shops and pick up a few camo shirts, knit hat and a jacket. It'll be pretty cold up there and I'll blend in better. In small towns like this, the natives are restless. Just tryin' to prevent any kind of run-in."
"Better grab one of Mack's old trucker hats and by all means, don't shave," Jawnie said and stepped back out of the doorway.
Rockfish paused and held out his fist and Jawnie bumped it. He picked up the USB from Lynn on his way out the door and auto-started Lana before stepping out into the February cold.
***
Excerpt from The Ballad of the Great Value Boys by Ken Harris. Copyright 2025 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris. All rights reserved.
Ken Harris retired from the FBI, after thirty-two years, as a cybersecurity executive. With over three decades writing intelligence products for senior Government officials, Ken provides unique perspectives on the conventional fast-paced crime thriller. He is the author of the “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” series. He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent playing Walkabout Mini Golf and cheering on Philadelphia sports. Ken firmly believes Pink Floyd, Irish whiskey and a Montecristo cigar are the only muses necessary. He is a native of New Jersey and currently resides in Virginia’s Northern Neck.
