Traveler: Season Two
Episode 9: The Execution
You can't replace preparation and execution with emotion and hope to make it. There was a lot of passion at the Alamo, and they all died. P. King
The masked men returned, barging through the wooden door with a fierceness that sent Kim skittering, crab-like, into the far corner of her cramped prison. Quaking inside and out, she still managed to stammer, "P-please don't hurt me. I don't belong here. There's been a mistake."
"Stand up," the taller of the two men ordered. When Kim continued to cower he reached down and grabbed her wrist. "Do as you're fuckin' told." As he yanked her to her feet pain soared up her arm and exploded in her shoulder. "Turn around."
Before she could comply, rough hands spun her about. She could feel her composure crumpling as one man held her still while the other pulled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists with a coarse rope that chafed her skin.
"Don't do this," she begged. "There's been-"
A hand crashed into her temple, cutting off her plea. "Shut up, bitch."
With her senses topsy turvy from the blow, Kim could only manage a quiet mewl as the men secured an oily cloth over her face. The fumes burned her eyes and caused her to sputter and gag. Ignoring her plight, they half carried and half dragged her out of the shack. She stumbled across what felt like uneven soil for perhaps as long as five minutes before her right foot struck something hard. She would have tripped and fallen if her captors weren't supporting her. When she recovered her equilibrium, the surface beneath her feet had changed. There was no give. It was solid and level, something man made.
Weak from hunger and thirst she did her best to keep up as their pace increased. Her strength was waning when she banged into something, hitting it first with her toes then her ankle. There was a confusion of movement around her and the pressure on her arms changed slightly, pulling her upward as well as forward. It took two more bruising collisions before she realized that she was on a staircase and reoriented her movement to accommodate the climb. Her captors paused at what she judged to be the top of the steps and freed her wrists. She could hear a mumble of voices, but she was too tired to sort the sounds into words.
"Come on." Those words were loud and clear and accompanied by a tugging that confirmed they were directed at her. She was swept along in a rush and couldn't take a step without an arm, knee or hip bumping into something on one side or the other. By the time she was thrown into a cushioned chair, the relief of journey's end overwhelmed her. So several minutes passed before her senses pieced together where she was. The stairs, the narrow passageway, an identical cushioned seat to her right and a padded object an arm's length in front of her. A plane! She was in the cramped seat of an airplane.
xxx
A siren wound its way through Fred Chambers' head, a shrieking wail that would have put heavy metal decibels to shame. He pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. A dozen breaths later, the piercing faded to a dim hum, but the pain it left in its wake had the feel of a battering ram slamming against the inside of his skull.
Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin and yanked on the child-proof lid until it popped free. He poured three pills into his hand, tossed them into his mouth and began to swallow before he realized that both his coffee cup and water glass were empty. Gulping, he forced the pills down dry, then headed to the water cooler in the outer office.
It had been another long night, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was no longer a young man. No matter how hard he worked to stay fit, prolonged sleep deprivation took its toll.
He snatched one of the paper cups that were stacked on top of the water cooler and stuck it under the spigot, letting the chilled water flow until it was almost full. It took two long swallows before the sensation of grit in his esophagus abated. He continued to sip at the remainder as he made his way to the break room. The carafe resting on their sole coffee maker was marked with the orange band that signified a caffeine-free brew. Cursing the agent who had chosen to make decaf rather than regular, he shifted his attention to the nearby vending machine. He knew from experience that the sludge it dispensed resembled coffee in name only, but at least it would be heavily caffeinated, and that was exactly what he needed. He was about to feed the machine a dollar bill when he spied movement out of the corner of his left eye.
A slim, dark-haired man joined him in the room.
"Sheehan," Chambers barked to the newcomer, "make coffee, real coffee. Now."
The young agent jerked to a stop before spitting out, "Coming right up."
"Two creams, no sugar, and it better be in my office in five minutes or less."
"Yes. Sir." Sheehan grabbed the carafe and started for the sink. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "we need one of those Kuerig machines, the kind where you can make individual cups of whatever blend you prefer."
Out of the mouths of babes! "Get us one. Don't put in a requisition. That would take months. Buy it and I'll see that you get reimbursed, if I have to do it personally."
Chambers took the long route back to his cubicle, rolling his shoulders to work kinks out of the muscles in mid back that tended to stiffen up without warning. The office had settled down; early morning chatter had subsided and agents were locked to computers, paper work or phones, concentrating on individual aspects of the investigation. He might have taken the time to bask in pride at the well-honed efficiency of his unit if he weren't so tired and harried.
Traveler's call had disrupted his morning in the manner of a grenade whose pin had just been pulled. In order to prevent the situation from exploding Chambers had reacted with swift, instinctive resolve. He'd sent agents to Jessie's early morning class to take her into protective custody. He'd lined up Fourth Branch personnel to be on standby for what might turn out to be a major operation. And without consulting Rosalind he'd ordered Kim Doherty onto a plane. He didn't trust Traveler, and he wasn't sure the exchange was a good idea–look at what had happened to Jack Freed-but he wanted to be prepared if he decided to go ahead with it.
His initial actions had taken the better part of an hour. Now he was left with the hard part: the waiting.
xxx
Tyler's fingers tapped a silent, restless beat on the cushioned arm of his chair while he studied the unchanging tableau around him. The motel room exuded the eerie atmosphere of the calm before a storm. Standing sentinel-like by the window, Marlow held the curtain back just enough to allow a view of the outside walkway and the parking lot beyond. Jay was in the chair to Tyler's left, his head pressed against its worn upholstery, his face pale and strained.
While the two queen-size beds were in disarray, everything else was orderly. The food had been sorted, and Marlow had taken an over-ripe banana, an assortment of slimy cold cuts, and other discards to the hotel dumpster. The rest was bagged except for the open package of Oreos that Tyler had nibbled on for breakfast. The cooler, packed with fresh ice, was beside the door, with their backpacks lined up in a neat row next to it.
They talked about transferring everything to Gabe's SUV, but they didn't know if Will's plan included abandoning the rooms. They didn't know anything. In typical Will fashion he'd put on shoes and a jacket, grabbed Marlow's car keys from the night stand, and headed for the door, flinging a brief "I need to pick up a few things" at them as he left.
"He's back," Marlow said, her voice gritty with undisguised vexation.
She let her emotions vent when Will slipped in the door. "Where have you been for the last hour and a half? You can't just take off without telling us where you're going or how long you'll be gone. Are we working together or aren't we?"
"That's up to you," was Will's taut reply. He pulled a laptop computer out of a bag, plopped it on the desk and had it powering up before Marlow responded with a delayed exhalation that was second cousin to a cat's hiss.
Tyler might have been amused by Marlow's irritation–her reaction to Will so closely mirrored the frustration he'd felt a few days earlier–if Jay wasn't suffering the misery of the damned. The last thing any of them needed was more conflict.
"Marlow, it's okay," he said, attempting to diffuse the situation. The glare she directed his way told him he hadn't come close to succeeding, so he tried again. "I mean... well, Will's an exasperating bastard, but...," he shrugged helplessly, "you'll get used to it."
"We'll see about that."
That didn't work so well, Tyler told himself. He watched as Marlow began to pace in a small circle that took her from the window to the nearer bed and back again. Her eyes kept returning to the dresser where Will had thrown the keys to her rental car, but she didn't make a move to retrieve them.
After four or five tight circuits she sat on the edge of the bed and settled her hands in her lap, fingers twined tightly about each other. Her shoulders and upper chest rose and fell slowly, consistent with an attempt to calm an irritated psyche.
"All right, Traveler," she finally said. "When you're ready, you tell us what's going on."
As if on cue Will jabbed his finger at the computer screen. "Here." He waited until all of them had gathered around him to study the image on display to add, "We're going here."
"Spruce Valley?" Tyler said as he identified the snow-covered hillside pictured on the screen. "It went bankrupt last winter." Inane chatter, to be sure, but he didn't know how else to express his confusion. What did a closed ski resort have to do with any of their problems?
Jay summarized the block of text that accompanied the graphic: "There's going to be an auction next month, skis, furnishings, everything not tied down." He grabbed Will's arm, attempting to gain his attention. "What the hell?" he said, his voice rising shrilly. "Count me out of whatever scheme you're hatching. I need to find Kim."
"That's exactly why we're going there. Spruce Valley is the perfect place to set up an exchange. I'll explain on the way." Will shrugged off Jay's hold and rose to his feet, his eyes scanning the room with an intentness that Tyler had been familiar with even before the Drexler. "Good. You've got everything packed. Get anything you might need in the next few hours. The rest goes in Marlow's trunk. Jay, you'll ride with her. Tyler, you and I are on lead in the Jeep."
xxx
The small jet soared through thick clouds that isolated it from the outside world. If it weren't for the thrumming engines that grounded the flight to reality, Kim might have thought she was floating through a dream. A very scary dream, to be sure.
When they'd removed the irritating cloth from her face, she saw that the two masked men had been replaced by two unmasked but no less gruff men. One had squeezed her shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise while warning her not to give them any trouble. The men had settled in seats near the front, leaving her alone in the middle of the plane.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed after takeoff before she'd dared to slide into the window seat and open the shade. By then the plane was already surrounded by impenetrable mist.
"Hey, you!"
Kim's heart skipped a beat and she reached for the shade, sure she was about to be reprimanded for opening it. Before she could pull it closed a duffle bag was thrown onto the seat next to her. Timorously, she looked up to meet eyes that were dark and friendless. The man pointed to the bag, then jerked his head toward the back of the plane.
It took her several seconds to overcome her initial panic and decipher his gestures: he wanted her to move, to take the bag somewhere. She released the seatbelt, grabbed the bag with her left hand and attempted to slip past the looming thug without touching him. But her arm brushed his, sending her into a second panic. She scurried toward the rear, sensing him close on her heels.
There was single door opposite the rearmost seats. He didn't react when she grasped the tiny handle, so she slid it open, not daring to hope that it was anything other than a new prison. When she saw what was on the other side, a welling of tears filled her eyes.
The cramped confines of an airplane bathroom had never looked so good.
She darted inside, closed and locked the door, then leaned against it. In a sense it was another small prison, but it was one that she welcomed.
xxx
Gabriel Fog rolled over in bed and immediately wished he hadn't. The slight movement sent waves of nausea rolling through his stomach. If that wasn't bad enough, his tongue was thick with muck and his mind was swirling.
Gods, what have I done to myself?
Drank too much for one. Behaved with uncharacteristic diffidence, two. Ruined his life, three.
Well, maybe not the last, not yet, but it felt as if he were headed in that direction.
Shit!
He was rattled and uncharacteristically uncertain about what to do next. Fubars of this nature simply didn't happen to him. He'd always made the right choices: school, career, friends. It was a smooth progression of unabashed success. Furthermore, he'd worn the privilege of being a Fog–which would have been so easy to abuse–with what he'd believed to be unpretentious grace. So what in the name of hades had he done to deserve this? Yes, he'd put Jess in a bad situation, but not by design. He'd only been trying to help Tyler.
Fuck.
xxx
Kim kept her eyes averted from the mirror while she scrubbed at the accumulated layers of grime and sweat. It was a long process that depleted the entire stock of paper towels and left her skin feeling as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. She didn't care; the irritation simply enhanced the sensation of being clean. At last.
She continued to avoid her reflection as she sorted through the small stack of clothes she'd removed from the duffle: underpants, a sports bra, a gray sweat suit, and socks. Thankfully, the bathroom was stocked with a variety of feminine products. She pressed a pad to her new panties before slipping into them. She didn't let herself think about the flow of blood that made the pad a necessity.
Sometime during the routine of putting pristine clothes on a clean body, her panic and fright gave way to blessed numbness. Only then did she turn in the direction of the mirror. A sallow face surrounded by tangled, wet hair stared back at her. The blue eyes were dull and listless but not quite lifeless. "Kim." The word was a hesitant whisper. It was surely Kim, but not one that she'd ever seen before.
A pounding against the door reverberated through the small room.
"What's taking so long? Get your ass out here. Now."
Her fear reignited in an instant, hampering her ability to control the muscle movements necessary to unlock the door. Her fingers fumbled with the mechanism for what felt like an eternity before they managed to release the bolt.
"About time."
The hulking figure gave her a shove as she entered the cabin. It propelled her down the corridor toward the front. Moving as quickly as her feet could carry her, she found her seat, identifying it by the still-raised shade, and stumbled into it. She didn't allow herself to relax until the man had regained his own seat. Then the captive air in her lungs exited in a relieved whoosh.
Okay, I'm safe, at least for now.
She controlled the urge to panic, knowing she had to conserve her energy for whatever was to come. She couldn't allow herself to hope that the opportunity to clean up was a good sign and that this flight would end in her release. Nor would she allow herself to despair over the cavalierly cruel behavior of her captors that suggested her welfare was of little concern. She needed to stay focused on the moment and let the future unfold without expectations.
After fastening the seatbelt she closed her eyes. The rhythmic vibration of the plane wove a soothing pattern through her worn senses. Sooner than she would have thought possible, she fell asleep.
xxx
Carlton brightened when he saw Gabriel enter the room. But one look at his son's drawn face sent his spirits plummeting. "What's the matter?"
Gabe pulled the visitor's chair next to the bed and sat down, his head hanging low. "I didn't sleep well."
"Did Tyler contact you again?"
"No, not since yesterday." Gabriel brought his eyes up to meet Carlton's. "Yesterday's the problem. I didn't tell you everything. Tyler asked me to do something for him. I complied–what else could I do?–and the FBI found out."
"Gabriel!" Carlton jerked forward, his arm stretching toward his son. "Call our lawyers. I want an attorney-here, now-before someone shows up with a warrant."
"That's not necessary. They aren't going to arrest me. At least, I don't think that's the plan. I've already met with Chambers and told him everything. He seemed to be okay with that."
Carlton eased back slowly in deference to the band of pain that had tightened around his chest.
"I don't know what to do," Gabe continued. "It's gotten complicated. I just wanted to help Tyler."
"I know. I know. So did I and look where it got me. But son, isn't that the story of Tyler's life? He gets into scrapes and one of us has to pull him out. Only this time he's gotten himself into something so big that it's beyond our power to help." Carlton feigned a sigh. "I blame myself. If I had forced him to face his problems from early on, he would have learned... well, responsibility. He would have known better than to get mixed up in this nasty business."
Gabriel stiffened in the chair, his head twitching side to side in protest. "Dad, he's innocent. Tyler's not capable of hurting anyone."
"I'm not saying he knew what was going to happen at the Drexler, but he's involved. We have to stop denying that. He wouldn't be running if he weren't. He got mixed up with the wrong crowd and he doesn't know how to extricate himself."
"Maybe... I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything."
Carlton placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "You will be. I know you. I trust your judgment. You don't flinch when the going gets tough. Let me give you a piece of advice. Set aside your emotional ties to your brother and focus on the facts."
"The facts..." The words were soft, low, thoughtful.
"If the suspect wasn't Tyler... if you had the same body of evidence that you have now and a stranger was involved, would you think he was innocent or guilty?"
Pain washed over Gabriel's face and a whispery moan slipped from between his lips. He hesitated, staring pleadingly at his father, before finally acknowledging, "Guilty. I'd think he was guilty."
xxx
Conrad Mailer thumbed the stop button on the treadmill with his right hand while using his left to activate his mobile phone. Anselmo. At last. "What do you have for me?"
"I've been working on the name you pulled out of Fog's phone records: Jessica Chambers. She's a student at Columbia University. I tracked her down just in time to see two FBI agents pull her from class. I recognized her immediately as the girl who made the delivery." There was a slight pause before Anselmo added, "I wish I had reached her sooner; maybe we could have learned something."
Mailer grabbed a cotton robe from a hook on the wall and slipped into it. "I doubt that she would have told you anything. While you were looking for her, David did some research of his own. She's Fred Chambers' daughter."
"The agent in charge of the Drexler investigation... Now that's interesting. It explains why she was so calm. When the FBI took her into custody, her professor was irate, ranting that her rights were being violated, but she was fine with it. She told him not to worry."
"I don't think we can count on anything from the Chambers girl. She was obviously a tool–a particularly ironic one–that the young Fogs somehow brought into play. So where do we go from here?"
"Gabriel Fog. They've contacted him at least twice. With Doherty still missing, he's the best lead we have."
xxx
Marlow eased back on the gas pedal, slowing her speed to match Tyler's in the SUV. The GPS unit had already alerted her to an upcoming turn, so the deceleration wasn't unexpected. As she angled left onto a rural two-lane road that looked much like the one she was leaving, the phone rang.
Sitting in the passenger seat next to her, Jay Burchell took the call. She couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but it had to be Traveler. He'd been calling at semi-regular intervals to reconfirm the route they'd mapped out to Spruce Valley.
"I've got it," Jay said a second before he ended the connection. He spent another minute making an adjustment to their GPS unit, then set it on the tray between the front seats. "I've got a map," he said in a voice raspy with irritation. "I don't need reminders from Will."
"It never hurts to double check," Marlow said, trying to soothe Burchell's understandable edginess. "Everything's going to be fine."
"I wish I could believe that. Do you think Will's plan is going to work?"
"Assuming Chambers brings Kim to the resort, I think it's as good as it can get." Traveler's plan–that is, the skimpy outline he'd shared over speaker phone as they'd set out-wasn't without potential problems, but it wasn't as if they had any choice. None of them in good conscience could abandon Kim.
"Yeah... That's what I thought."
Jay swung his head toward the side window, a gesture meant to shut her out. Jan badly wanted to rattle off dozens of questions, but she knew that now wasn't the time and that Burchell wasn't her primary target for interrogation, anyway. That would be Traveler.
Traveler had locked onto Chambers as soon as he knew Kim was missing. He had to know he was dirty. But how? And what was with the painting? She'd looked at it, briefly, but not seen anything to suggest it held value other than as a famous piece of art.
She quelled additional questions before they could form. Can't do anything about it now, she told herself. But as soon as we get through this...
With that resolution fixed firmly in place, she switched on the car radio. A few clicks of the search button later, she lucked onto a station that was playing a bluesy jazz number. She didn't know the tune but that didn't stop her from humming along as she returned her concentration to the road and to the car in front of them.
xxx
Bright sun reflecting off the wing scorched Kim's eyes as she exited the plane. She raised a hand to shade her forehead before looking around. There wasn't much to see. A chain link fence surrounded what appeared to be a small airfield with a single runway and a cinder block building about the size of a convenience store. Trees loomed beyond the fence and there was no sense of what lay beyond them.
Her eyes tracked to the bottom of the stairs where two men in dark suits stood like silent sentinels. A poke in the back started her down the steps. She kept one hand on the rail to steady herself. Don't panic. They wouldn't bring you all this way to kill you.
All this way...
She felt well rested, suggesting she'd slept for longer than a quick cat nap. The air was cool and dry, and some of the trees sported a smattering of yellow foliage. She might not know where she was, but it felt a lot more like home than where she had been.
Deliberately, she slowed her descent, dragging each shoe over the rubber strips on the steps before lowering it to the next level. What did this latest change in circumstance mean? What did any of this mean? Her mind searched for answers that remained beyond her comprehension. Having no choice, she resigned herself to whatever fate awaited her as she stepped onto the tarmac.
"This way." The man on her right pointed to his right. As she turned, movement caught her eye. A man with a swift, purposeful stride was bearing down on the plane from the direction of the building. Even from a distance she had no trouble identifying him.
Agent Chambers.
xxx
After crossing the Connecticut River their two car caravan traveled steadily west by northwest, shifting from one scenic Massachusetts byway to another. It was a gorgeous day, with the crispness of approaching autumn in the air. Bright sunbeams gave ashen fields a golden hue and deepened the green of every passing pasture and tree. Ahead of them, a clear blue sky framed the outline of the hills on the horizon. Everything was picture perfect. Even the air filtering into the car was beneficent, carrying the scent of ripe apples from the orchard that was rolling by on the left.
It was exactly the type of drive that normally soothed Tyler as effectively as a good massage. But sitting behind the wheel of Gabe's Jeep, he was stiff and tense with worry. Even with the brim of his baseball cap shading his face, his body wanted to crouch down whenever they came close to another car. And his heart pitter-pattered at the start of every blind curve or climb, sure that a police roadblock would materialize in the not-yet-visible stretch of road to follow.
Tyler would have appreciated a little conversation, maybe a joke or two, anything to provide a distraction to his concerns, but Will sat in total silence. Since Will had set the computer aside some ten minutes earlier, he'd slouched in the corner where the seat met the door with eyes closed and body unmoving. Tyler didn't think he was sleeping, but he couldn't be sure.
Reaching to his right, Tyler grasped his water bottle and felt the thin plastic crackle in his hand. He smiled as he realized that he had a legitimate reason to interrupt Will's solitude. "Would you grab me another water? This one's empty."
During the five beats that followed Will didn't move. Tyler's left hand tightened on the steering wheel as he pondered the situation. Maybe Will was sleeping. "Did you hear me?" he asked quietly just as Will finally stirred.
"I heard." After unbuckling his seatbelt, he reached through the space between the seats. Seconds later, he was twisting a bottle cap to break the seal.
Tyler slowed down as he put the water to his lips. "Thanks."
Will resurfaced from a second sojourn into the back with another bottle of water. He took the smallest of sips before placing it in the cup holder on his side of the center console.
Determined not to let the car sink back into gloomy silence, Tyler said, "How did you know that Chambers had Kim? She could have been anywhere."
"It was the only thing that made sense. A hit and run accident in the middle of the day in a residential neighborhood with slow speed limits and minimal traffic isn't very likely. It was a deliberate action. They did it to get Kim to expose herself. And it worked."
"Well, I'm glad her mom is going to be okay. Now we just need to get Kim back. You make it sound easy, but..."
"I never said it was going to be easy," Will cautioned. "A lot is going to depend on you."
"Me?"
"Jay isn't going to be thinking clearly. I'm counting on you to get him and Kim to where Marlow will be waiting. It's not that far from the resort, but there won't be roads or even a trail. As soon as we get there, we'll scout out a route, and you'll have the GPS and a compass as backup. But the less you have to stop and use either tool, the faster you'll travel. I can help you pick out landmarks, but you're the one who is going to have to remember them."
"Piece of cake," Tyler said. His innate sense of direction, even in the middle of nowhere, assured that he rarely got lost, as he'd demonstrated when he'd led Jay to Elysium, navigating the dark forest as easily as if they'd been walking along marked city streets in broad daylight. "Remember who led the way when we went off trail near Stowe?"
That brought what appeared to be a genuine smile to Will's face. "You were on the mark," he acknowledged.
"So," Tyler said, "I think we can agree that I can get Jay and Kim to Marlow. But, Will, what about you?"
Will patted the phone on his lap. "I told you. I'll call to set up a rendezvous point."
"I remember you said that, but I missed the part where you explained how you were going to get away from Chambers. It's not like you can hand him a get out of jail free card and mosey along your way."
"Not to worry. I've got something more substantial than a Monopoly move in mind."
xxx
Under most circumstances Jess would have resented being sequestered in a small conference room in FBI headquarters without so much as a by-your-leave or explanation. Under most circumstances she would have spent the past few hours building up a nuclear holocaust of fury to unleash on her father, who was undoubtedly responsible.
But yesterday she'd betrayed him. She'd deliberately delayed providing him with information about a known fugitive. She'd put Tyler Fog, of all people, ahead of her dad. And that was why she was tolerating her confinement and accepting it as just punishment for her sin.
The ordinary activity of going to class this morning, even with a not-quite-invisible escort close on her heels, had almost allowed her to forget about her indiscretion. Getting pulled from class had ended her pretense at amnesia. The pair of agents hadn't even allowed her to return to her dorm for study material before directing her to a car and driving her to midtown. So here she sat with only her cell phone and one notebook to serve as distractions.
The cell phone was less than useless. She didn't want to answer the texts from friends who wanted to know where she was, because any response would have required her to 'fess up to yesterday's activities. And she certainly wasn't going to answer the voice mail or text messages from one Gabriel Fog. He was so very sorry. Well, yeah, he should be, for getting her involved with his infamous brother.
Tyler...
The surge of anger that accompanied any thought of Gabe remained quiescent when her thoughts turned to his brother. Which didn't make sense. Gabriel was a scumbag deceiver, but Tyler was a terrorist. Or so it was generally believed.
She hadn't believed it or she wouldn't have gone along with his request to remain silent about their meeting until she returned to New York. But as her dad pointed out, could she really trust her judgment? Was he the victim he appeared and claimed to be? Maybe not. Probably not. She'd already failed at deciphering another scion named Fog.
Sighing, she pushed her phone and notebook to the side and scooted the wheeled conference chair back from the table. They'd said to shout if she got hungry. It was past time to have them make good on that offer.
xxx
The Spruce Valley resort had closed with a whimper just two seasons into operation. It hadn't been able to compete with nearby facilities that were more luxurious, more challenging or both. Its trails were like popular novels, entertaining enough during the initial exposure, but easily forgotten. The planned condominium complex that would have provided upscale lodging for overnight visitors had never even broken ground.
Standing at the top of the mountain that housed both the intermediate and difficult trails, Will looked down at the buildings on the valley floor. The combined ski shop, restaurant and lounge was the only structure of significant size and the only one that had been open to the public. To its left was a cluster of three smaller buildings that housed the administration and storage areas.
"We're ready," Tyler called, drawing Will's attention to where Tyler and Jay were perched on matching all-terrain vehicles that were pointed toward the heavily treed slope on the undeveloped side of the mountain.
"Then get going," Will said with a wave of his hand.
Tyler twisted the key in the ignition. "See you soon," he yelled over the throbbing of the newly activated motor. He set off first, cloaked in a confidence that Will believed to be justified.
Earlier, Will had cobbled out a route that would take them to the highway rest stop that was the designated rendezvous point with Marlow. Tyler and Jay had doubled up on the second four-wheeler and followed him as he'd navigated his way through the forest. He'd been forced to backtrack several times; twice when they'd run into impenetrable undergrowth and a third instance when the slope had steepened to what he'd judged to be an unsafe angle. But in the end he'd been satisfied that the route wasn't unduly complex. Tyler had taken the lead for the return trip and had been a model of unerring efficiency. He'd navigated the twists and turns as smoothly as Will could have managed himself.
Both Jay and Tyler had argued that a second practice run wasn't necessary, but Will had insisted. If it ended up that bullets were flying during their exit, any hesitation might be fatal. Besides, it would keep them occupied. Busy soldiers didn't have time to brood or worry.
After they'd disappeared from sight Will turned on the ski lift and angled into the first passing chair. Below him, thick cables stretched to the valley floor, with the evenly spaced chairs dangling like charms attached to a particularly long bracelet.
So far, everything had gone as planned. As he'd expected to be the case, the resort property appeared to have undergone recent maintenance so that everything would present in the best possible light to prospective bidders. The four wheelers that had been listed in the inventory started up on the first try, and the chair lift glided with the smoothness of a Mercedes fresh from the showroom floor.
Reaching the bottom, Will leaned forward, tipping the seat just enough to allow him to step easily onto the ground. He slid to the right as the chair swung in the opposite direction to conform to the bottom curve.
A few clouds were moving in from west, puffy dots of white carried on a light breeze. As the prediction had suggested, weather wouldn't be a factor in the operation. Any disruptions would be man made. With that in mind, he directed his feet to the bench where he'd left a plastic grocery bag. Inside the bag was his out. And as he'd told Tyler, it was something more substantial than a Monopoly card.
xxx
"Where are we going?" Kim asked. "Please. You have to tell me."
Fred Chambers twisted around to face the backseat. "I don't have to tell you anything, Miss Doherty. You gave up your rights when you chose to involve yourself in your boyfriend's duplicity at Club Fervor. I'm beginning to think you were part of his band of terrorists from the beginning."
"I wasn't. That is... he isn't. None..." Kim let her voice trail off as Chambers turned away. He wasn't listening to her declarations of innocence and she sensed that he never would.
"Brady," Chambers spoke the name of the man who shared the backseat with Kim, "if she opens her mouth again, tape it shut."
Kim couldn't stop herself from glancing at the man to her right. Noting her attention, his beady eyes took on a lecherous glaze. "Maybe I should tape it now."
"And maybe you need to control your own mouth," Chambers reprimanded. "This is my operation. When I want input from you, I'll ask for it." Brady scowled but didn't protest.
Chambers' attention shifted to the man behind the wheel. "Ford, what do you make of this route?"
"Sun's directly in front of us, sir. If you eliminate the zigs and zags, we've traveled two-thirds the way around an ellipse. If the pattern continues, we'll find ourselves back in New York in time to catch a Broadway show."
"It's a deliberate delay," Chambers said. He brought a headset to his ear and spoke into it in a voice that was substantially louder than conversational level. "Where are you?"
The ordeal of the past hours and days–Kim had lost all track of time–had drained her to where it took a concentrated effort to follow Chambers' side of the conversation.
"I want you to refuel now. Is that a problem?" The lengthy stretch of silence told Kim that the answer to the question hadn't been a simple yes or no. Eventually, Chambers spoke again. "All right. That should work. I don't expect anything to go down until dark. I'll have Chesku move his team in closer in case I'm wrong about the timing. Let me know when you're back in the air and I'll send you my coordinates."
xxx
Will's eyes scanned the items that he'd spread over the surface of a dining table in the canteen area of the main building. The Semtex, detonators and remote controlled initiators that he'd purchased from Jimmy provided him with enough raw material for four smallish bombs. They wouldn't be anywhere near big enough to do more than blow up a doorknob each, but since destruction wasn't their intended purpose that didn't matter.
Constructing explosives from these particular components was as familiar to him as walking up a flight stairs. His fingers started on the task without the need of prompting from his brain. As he neared completion of the first bomb, he found his thoughts wandering.
Four years earlier...
"We're fuckin' fucked," Weapons Sergeant Sean Murphy said.
The words that floated out of the pitch darkness of their small prison were clear and ungarbled, telling his companion, Private Christopher Connor, that Murphy had managed to remove the tape from his mouth. Given Murphy's training, that didn't come as a surprise.
"You shouldn't have grabbed my gun," Murphy continued. "You're a fuckin' coward. We could have taken some of those bastards with us. We could have gone out quick and clean. Now it's going to be slow and nasty. What in the hell were you thinking when you surrendered?"
"Dead is dead."
"Dead is dead," Murphy echoed, sarcasm blending with anger to form a particularly damning strain of vitriol. "God, kid, you can't be that stupid. You'll be singing a different tune when they're using a dull knife to separate your head from your shoulders. How in the fuckin' hell did I get stuck with you? You're not even Special Forces; you don't belong in our unit."
Connor ignored the question as he continued to work on the ropes binding his ankles. The man who had secured his limbs had been as proficient with ankles as he'd been with wrists. Connor had had to temporarily dislocate his left thumb to free his hands. He didn't have that option with a foot.
The hemp was so tightly woven that Connor had to pry his fingernails into the fiber to establish even a tentative purchase. Using a slow, steady motion, he pulled. There was a slight give before his nails lost their grip. Patiently, he repeated the process.
"Did you hear me, Connor? You're worse than useless."
He and Murphy had worked well together. Until now. Connor couldn't blame him for his ire. In a recessed part of his mind, he was frightened himself. They'd all heard stories of insurgent brutality. The last thing any soldier wanted was to be taken captive. But he and Murphy had been trapped and greatly outnumbered. It had come down to surrender or a suicidal fight to the finish. Given a choice between capture, probable torture and a chance to live or a quick death, Connor knew he'd make the same choice every time.
The important thing now was for both of them to remain as calm as possible.
In the pitch darkness he couldn't see Murphy, but he still found himself turning toward the spot where the other man's voice had originated as he asked, "Do you know where we are?"
"Where we are?" A short burst of strained laughter followed the question. "We're in a fuckin' hell hole... because of you."
"It's the hell hole we told HQ about."
"Wha–?" Stupid men didn't make it through Special Forces training. It only took Murphy half a second to make the connection. "The place that big meeting was to take place? The one the haji kid told us about?"
"One and the same." Connor grunted as he dug his index finger into the small space he'd worked between the ropes. "Assuming HQ believed the intel..."
"They'll be dumping a shit load of shake and bake on this place come dark." Murphy's voice lost its antagonistic edge. "Are you sure that's where we are?"
"I picked up a few words when they pulled us out of the car. I'm sure."
"Maybe you aren't as useless as I thought. This could give us the edge we need." There was a scrabbling sound that suggested Murphy was moving around. "You free yet?"
"Will be in a minute."
"Make sure you position the ropes so it looks like you're still trussed up. Then sit tight and pray that chaos and confusion arrive on schedule."
xxx
Chambers looked at the name on the incoming call and wished he didn't have to answer it. "Yes?"
Though Rosalind Freed was red, white and blue to the core, her way of expressing displeasure reminded Chambers of the prototypical image of a British nanny. The clipped precision of each word reprimanded more forcefully than a voice raised in anger. "I understand that Kim Doherty is back on U.S. soil."
"Just a second." Chambers pressed the button that raised the barrier between the front and back seats before continuing. "There was no time to consult you."
"No time... Is there some lag in phone service between New York and the District that I don't know about?"
"There were..." Chambers censored more urgent before it could spill off his tongue, "other matters that required my immediate attention. I sent you a report."
"As an email attachment."
"There was nothing you could have done. I have access to FBI as well as Branch resources. It had to be my operation. I was sure you'd agree with the decision I made: Traveler and the painting are worth more than Doherty."
"You trust him to keep his part of the bargain?"
"Not anymore than he trusts me to keep mine."
"You better know what you're doing. She was a bird in the hand. The interrogators hadn't even questioned her yet. She could have told us where they were and we could have had all of them without any need for games."
Chambers resisted the urge to remind Rosalind that her son–the late, not-as-great-as-he'd-like-to-think Jack Freed–had played his share of games. "It's not a game. I intend this to end it."
"It's on your shoulders if it doesn't." Rosalind terminated the connection without so much as a goodbye.
Rosalind's call had served one purpose. It reminded Chambers that Doherty might have information that would prove valuable if this operation didn't work out as he intended. He lowered the barrier and turned to the back seat. "This would go easier on you if you cooperate."
The lines and planes of Kim's face reflected wary uncertainty. "What do you mean?"
"I have the power to release you or... Well, you've heard of extraordinary rendition."
"Heard of it! You've already-"
"Already what, Miss Doherty? Do you have any witnesses? Any proof?" Chambers paused to let his words sink in. "Now, let's start again. This is your last chance to determine your own fate. Where are your friends hiding?"
"I. Don't. Know."
"But you were with them."
"I wasn't."
"Lying isn't going to help your cause. Traveler was identified as the man who removed you from FBI custody. I know you were with him."
Fire ignited in the depths of her eyes, telling Chambers that captivity hadn't completely broken her spirit. "Will. Yes, I saw Will. But you were asking about my friends."
"And he's not your friend?"
"What do you think? He set up Jay and Tyler. He's responsible for everything. I don't know where he is. I'd tell you if I did."
It was the truth. Chambers knew that as surely as he knew his own name. Interesting. "So you were with Traveler?"
"Not for long. He took me to the Russian embassy on the east side of Central Park."
"Go on."
"He appeared to be fluent in Russian. I decided he must be working for them or with them, which he denied. He said they owed him a favor. But you can't believe a word he says."
"That's one thing we can agree on," Chambers murmured as he swivelled around to face front again.
xxx
Chaos and confusion. Will's mind focused on those goals as he taped the last of the four bombs in place. Just about everything was ready for the upcoming encounter. There was only one more piece to activate before he gave Chambers his final set of directions.
After a quick check of the time, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and proceeded to make a call.
xxx
As she scanned the array of open take-out containers, a smile crept across Jessie's face. "Thank you, Agent Sheehan. These are my favorites."
Sheehan shifted back and forth from his left foot to his right. "Yes, well... it's what you seemed to like when we went to dinner."
"At that little restaurant in Chinatown, after my father got the commendation," Jessie remembered. "But that was almost two years ago."
"An agent never forgets," Sheehan said, grinning.
"I guess not. But there were six or seven of us sharing that day. I'll never be able to eat all of this. Will you join me?"
"Thanks for the offer, but I need to get back to my station." Sheehan gestured over his left shoulder toward the open door that led to the outer office.
It was after five. And while Jessie knew that FBI agents were on call beyond normal business hours, the sounds filtering in from the outer office suggested a high activity level. And she hadn't seen her father all day. A sharp bolt of worry killed the appetite the smell of food had aroused. "Is my Dad okay? What's going on?"
"Agent Chambers is fine," Sheehan rattled out. Then as if sensing that he'd answered too abruptly, added, "He really is. We're... we're a bit busy this evening, which is why I need to get back to my station. Enjoy your meal." He backed toward the door.
His words did anything but reassure her. "Tell me what's going on?" Jessie repeated. "If my father is fine, why are you so nervous?"
"Because I'm disobeying protocol. I'm not aloud to discuss FBI business, not even in the broadest terms."
Jessie pressed on. "Why are you busy? Does it have anything to do with the agents who were following me yesterday? The ones who went missing in Connecticut? Have they been found?"
Sheehan's eyes went blank and confusion spread across his face. It was several seconds before he regained his composure. "I'm not at liberty to discuss FBI operations. I have to get back to work." He spun quickly about and exited with the speed of an Olympic-class sprinter, closing the door firmly behind him.
What's going on? Jessie asked herself. It was impossible to misread Sheehan's body language. He hadn't known that two agents were missing. How could that be? A missing agent would be a top priority event. Everyone in the Bureau, from New York to California to Texas, would know when an agent was missing.
She dashed off a text to her father, then sat staring at her phone, willing the incoming text message ping to sound, while the cartons of food sat untouched.
The air felt chillier during Will's return ride to the top of the ski slope. He knew it was more a reflection of his mood than the weather. Despite his extensive combat experience, he was as susceptible as anyone to the apprehensive anticipation that swirled like a fog through the calm before a battle. No matter how carefully you planned, you could never account for everything. You were always playing the odds.
Four years earlier...
They dragged them into the gathering dusk with such urgency that for a second Connor thought they knew about the pending strike and were evacuating the area. But they threw them to the ground a scant fifteen feet from the door as a swirl of cries began to circle through the hot, dusty air.
Their captors were presenting the prisoners to a half dozen men grouped to Connor's right. The scant glow that was the final gasp of the day's sun made identification difficult. Connor had to concentrate his focus on each man in turn before resolving that two of the faces were familiar to him from their placement in the deck of cards that identified the most-wanted members of the toppled regime.
So the boy had been telling the truth.
Not that it might do them any good. There was a blood thirst raging from the circling crowd–evident in their words, eyes and body language-a vampiric appetite that demanded immediate sustenance.
The man who appeared to be in charge stepped forward and pronounced a swift judgement on Connor and Murphy. It was met with sharp cries of approval.
Murphy knew enough of the local language to translate the predominant phrase that echoed through the pack. "'Death to the infidels.' I don't like the sounds of that," he whispered. "We might not be around if and when our friendly fire barrage arrives." He chuckled briefly, but there was more strain than humor in the choked sound. "If I believed in that Nightingale foolishness, now would be the time for him to show up."
'Nightingale!' There were times when Connor wished he'd never heard the word. This was one of them. But Murphy was right. They needed to delay the executions and he could think of only one, very un-Nightingale way to do that.
Connor levered onto his knees, then onto his feet. Before anyone could move in to throw him back to the ground, he shuffled toward the man who had condemned them, calling "Assalamu alaikum. Assalamu alaikum." His pronunciation was precise; he wanted to give the crowd every reason to believe that he was worth more alive than dead. "Our leaders are treacherous," he continued in perfect Arabic. "Don't hurt me. I'll tell you everything I know."
Rough hands grabbed him, pulling him in different directions, causing the ropes that were loosely bound about his wrists and ankles to fall free. Good, that would add credence to his value as a live captive. "Special forces," he cried out, sure that they knew the term and what it signified, then, back to Arabic, added, "I have valuable information."
Sharp jabs and shoves propelled him forward, finishing with a thunderous blow that sent him sprawling to the ground in front of their leader. "Salaam, salaam," he whimpered fearfully. He wanted them to believe that he was frightened to the point of full cooperation. "Please– "
Something hard, probably a rifle butt, slammed into his back and sent the air whooshing from his lungs. It became difficult to breathe and impossible to talk. Before he could regain his senses, his head was yanked back and a sharp blade came out of nowhere to prickle against his throat.
The alarm on Will's watch sounded. He shut it off then reached for his phone. It was time to make the final call to Chambers.
xxx
Gabe looked warily to his left and right. He'd been standing in front of Jess's dorm for so long that he wouldn't be surprised if someone were to call campus security to report him as a stalker. The last thing he needed was another round of interrogation for wrong doing.
Not that he wasn't stalker. Technically, he qualified, though not one with evil intent.
Jess wasn't answering his calls or responding to his text messages and he was desperate to resolve the rift between them. He was sure she'd understand if she just gave him a chance to explain. It wasn't as if he'd twisted her arm. She'd felt as if she owed him a favor and he'd given her a chance to reciprocate. It was supposed to be a simple delivery. Tyler was really the one to blame. It was his mess. His request. Dad was right. It was time they stopped bailing Tyler out of scrapes.
xxx
As the sun slipped below to the horizon, bands of pink, orange and pale purple crowned the top of the ridge to the west. While the sky above still maintained a glimmer of light, deep ebony shadows were spreading over the valley below.
Perched near the top of the ski lift, Will checked his watch. It was time to alert the troops. "They should be here soon," he called out.
Jay looked up, gave a brief nod of acknowledgment, then let his head droop forward again. He hadn't moved from the bench built into the side of the ski patrol hut since he and Tyler had returned from their practice run.
Tyler threw a last pebble at the makeshift target he'd carved in a tree before walking to Will's side. "And if they aren't?"
"If they don't arrive in the next five minutes, we leave. It means that Chambers has figured out that this is the end of the line and he's setting a trap."
"But what if they're delayed by car trouble? Or they get lost?"
"We leave," Will repeated.
"Jay won't like that."
"Which is why he won't be making the decision."
"You say that as if you don't understand what Jay is going through. What's the matter with you?"
Will turned with slow deliberation to face Tyler. "We don't have the luxury of wallowing in empathy," he said, choosing each word carefully. "Remember what I told you earlier. Jay is going to be distracted; I need you to stay focused. The route to the rendezvous point is on the eastern slope. It's going to hold the light longer than down there." He pointed to the resort buildings on the valley floor. "But it's still going to be tricky. Will you be able to manage?"
"Yes." Tyler straightened, his shoulders squaring; resolve was evident in the deepening timber of his voice as he continued. "We've been over this. If I have to, I'll use the headlights, but only for as long as I need them."
"That's right." Will nodded his approval. "And if you get lost?"
"If I get lost, the rendezvous point is down. We keep going down and eventually we'll hit the road."
"And how will you know whether to go left or right?"
"Gods, Will! Enough! I get the message. I'm not going to mess this up. I'll-"
Will shot out his arm, gesturing for Tyler to hush. Tyler cut off in mid sentence, allowing Will's ears to lock onto the faint sound of an approaching motor. "Two minutes," he shouted. "Jay, get over here."
Jay gave his head a shake before he pushed up from the bench. The spring that normally defined his gait was absent, as if the gravity beneath his feet was exerting double its normal pull. "Is it them?" he asked, his voice a complex mix of hope and anxiety.
"Yes," Will answered, confident that no one else would be visiting the closed ski resort this late in the day. He looked first at Tyler then to Jay. "You both know what to do?"
"Yes," Jay said, but his eyes told another story. He was operating on numbed auto-pilot, saying the right words and making the right motions, but his mind appeared to be elsewhere, in a world that was defined by blind worry and churning emotions.
Tyler, however, was all business. "We take those," he said, nodding to where the ATVs were parked on the rear slope, out of sight of anyone on the valley floor, "and we kick ass to where Marlow will be waiting."
"That's right," Will said, encouraged by the unwavering certainty in Tyler's voice. "You don't hesitate. As soon as you have Kim, you take off."
"While you will be...?" Tyler asked.
"Dealing with Chambers."
xxx
Mailer waited impatiently for David to make the turn at the far end of the lap pool so that he could catch his eye. Fancher moved with such smooth precision that only the tiniest of waves licked the sides of the narrow channel as he surged forward. His flip was equally smooth, stirring the tiniest of ripples before he was headed back toward his employer.
"David," Mailer yelled while waving his right arm above his head.
Mailer didn't know if it was the sound of his voice or the flicker of movement that gained Fancher's attention, but he stopped almost immediately, with an abruptness that delineated the quickest of reflexes. He levered his muscular frame out of the pool with the type of straight body move that one would see during Olympic pommel horse competitions.
Fancher was a rare blend of raw strength and fluid agility. His chiseled body and stalwart posture suggested a man even larger than two hundred and twenty-five pounds of solid muscle on a six foot, two-inch frame. Genetics had endowed him with physical gifts that Mailer couldn't help but envy. There were some things that even his abundant fortune couldn't buy.
"If you're going to summon me in the middle of a swim, you could at least hand me a towel," Fancher said with good-natured familiarity as he covered the distance between them.
Mailer swept his hand down, grabbed the towel from the stone bench, and tossed it forward. Fancher snatched it out of the air and draped it over his shoulders. Goosebumps were forming on his body at it contacted the cool air that already held an early hint of winter. But then when wasn't it winter in Colorado? Mailer shook that thought from his mind.
"I've not been able to reach Jon," he said.
"That's not a bad thing. It means he's on to something."
"I'm sure you're right. It's just that I've been trying for thirty minutes."
Fancher took his time responding. They were almost to the house when he said, "This isn't like you, Conrad. You've always hired the best and let them go about their business. Let Anselmo do his job."
"I know. I know. It's just taking longer than I expected."
David opened the heavy oak door then stepped to the side to let Mailer enter first. "Will Traveler is very, very good at almost anything he does. He wouldn't be much use to you if he wasn't. So be glad that he's giving Anselmo a merry chase."
Despite the wisdom of David's words, Mailer couldn't stop himself from grimacing. "There is no reward without a degree of risk," he said, quoting himself before Fancher got around to it. "All right. I'm going to put this business out of my mind. Get into some clothes and meet me in the library. I'll break out that bottle of Glenlivet that I've been saving."
As he trotted toward the back stairs, David called over his shoulder. "Don't drink it all before I get there."
xxx
Everything was happening too quickly, leaving Tyler with the feeling of standing on a precipice with no guard rail to prevent him from tipping off the edge. Will hadn't given anyone time to think. He'd made his proposal to Chambers–make the trade now, no hesitation, or the deal was off–and hopped on the ski lift, heading down, within minutes of the FBI agent's arrival. Kim was on the opposite side, heading up, both having boarded at the same time.
Will's left arm was looped around the vertical pole that connected the chair to the steel cable above. His right arm rested in his lap, the tube with the painting held loosely in his hand.
Should we be giving up the painting? Tyler wondered, wishing he had pressed harder to get Will to define his plan. The way it looked now, with Will facing three–that they could see–FBI agents, it looked like Chambers had a clear advantage.
That's not my business! Nothing I can do about it.
It was Kim creeping closer and closer that Tyler needed to watch.
"Be ready to move." Tyler directed the words to Jay before turning his attention to the sky, where a faint twinkle of stars suggested it would be full dark before they reached Marlow. At some point, they'd have to use the headlights. Not good, but unavoidable. "We have to leave as soon as Kim gets here."
And then she was there, stumbling as she left the chairlift and looking as if she'd aged ten years since Tyler had last seen her. "Move, move," he called as Jay reached for Kim. They were talking to each other, but Tyler blocked out their words. No distractions, Will had said. Stay focused. "Jay, not now," he scolded, cutting off a half-formed hug. "Move."
Kim stumbled a second time as Jay guided her to the waiting vehicles. Tyler dashed to provide support to her other side. "Good to see you," he rushed out. Then he was helping her settle in behind Jay before racing to the lead four wheeler.
They were just starting down the slope when a series of fierce pops and bangs tore through the air. It wasn't long before the sharper cracks of gunfire–a sound that had become all too familiar to Tyler–followed.
A chill rippled up Tyler's spine as he gunned the motor to speed his descent. Stay focused!
end of episode 9
(Apologies for the long delay. Since it took so long to finish this episode, I didn't try to find a beta-reader. If anyone notices any problems, mistakes, please let me know so that I can correct them.)