Chapter 37:
They found what they were looking for in a house not far from the cottage. From the outside it looked like it had been empty for a while. Some of the windows had been boarded up and the roof seemed to be tilted slightly under the weight of the snow that lay on top of it.
Fi and Michael visited four different stores for the necessary bomb items and new phones for both of them. From each store, Fi bought only one or two key ingredients needed and Michael added a little something of his own. They visited three hardware stores, even going as far as 40 miles away not to be noticed.
Sam prepped the small interior of the house. There would be no escape once inside. Windows were nailed shut and the boards over them reinforced. Since there wasn't any furniture, it had to look like Mike had been staying there, at least for a short while. Sam removed a few things from the Fi and Mike's hide away and brought them in. He also made several trails back and forth from the house through the snow. Looking at his handy work, he hoped it would be enough to get them inside.
Returning to the house, Fi got to work and Mike helped while Sam put the finishing touches on home-sweet-home. Fi mixed the ingredients adding just the right amount of each of the compounds and placed them in plastic buckets with remote controls that Michael hooked up to one of their new cell phones. The plastic buckets went into card board moving boxes and were placed in areas around the small home. Fi believed that there would be nothing left if it all went off, just debris.
It would be dark in two hours and their plan would go into motion soon. Mike, Sam and Fi returned to the cottage and ate a small meal next to a roaring fire before Sam fell asleep and then Fi. Mike's mind was wound tight and all he could do was run through the scenarios in his mind and then he drifted back to Washington.
It was easy at first, visits with psychologists. The usual mumbo jumbo to make sure his head was still on straight. Seven visits while he relaxed in his room and starting to hate the pristine views of downtown Washington, D.C. Once psych was finished, it was the doctor's turn. Checking his heart, his lungs, drawing enough blood, he thought, to kill him. Stress tests, physical therapy for his arm and shoulder went on for weeks, then he could feel the change.
Fatigues were brought to him and the exam room changed to training rooms. Weapons were brought to him, and he was made to take them apart, put them back together as a man watched with a stopwatch.
"Repeat"
Michael did.
"Repeat" for hours on hours until Michael's hands hurt and his mind lost in the thought of what he was doing. No one talked to him, only told him what to do.
Then it was hand to hand training. Brutal fights with several different opponents, several different fighting styles and weapons. He returned to the hotel room each night trying to strike up a conversation with his two escorts and failing, before collapsing into bed. He was losing track of time, seven weeks, maybe eight. Each day blended with the other. He had done this before and survived, he could do it again.
Then one morning a suit arrived along with shoes and an overcoat. Fine materials and craftsmanship. He showered and dressed, eager to see where this day would take him. The limo driving him today returned to the directors building and his two escorts again remained in the car.
"You are not going to walk me up. What kind of date is that?" Mike said sarcastically trying to get something out of the two men.
"I'm sure you remember the office?" one said sarcastically back.
Mike stepped from the limo, the snow had melted, but the air was still stinging with cold. He stepped into the elevator and watched the elevator doors close as he heard a voice yell.
"Hold the elevators."
Mike slid his hand into the field and the doors slid open again as a tall man, neatly dressed stepped in. Michael recognized him immediately.
"Jesse, what are you doing here?"
"Mike. It's good to see you! I've got a meeting up stairs. You?"
"Me too! A meeting? How is your leg?" Michael inquired as the doors shut and confused.
"Good, really good. I don't know what you did Mike, but it looks likes you got me back in. Whatever you said cleared my name. They picked me up in Miami at the hospital, helicoptered me to Bethesda Naval Hospital and have been taking really good care of me. The break is better, the wound has healed and Physical Therapy said in a week or two I should be able to get back in shape."
"That's great Jesse. You deserve it. You didn't do anything wrong. That was always my fault."
"Mike, man. I wouldn't trade anything that has happened in the last few months, well maybe the re-bar in the leg. It has been . . . really great meeting you, Fi, Sam and of course your mom."
"Thanks, me too."
The doors to the elevator opened and the two men shook hands and went different directions down a corridor
"Michael, Michael It is time to wake up." It was Fi's voice "It is time to get our little plan on the road. "Are you OK?"She said looking at him strangely.
Mike woke on the couch next to her, his mind returned from Washington. He leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. "I'm fine, let's go get them."