Chapter 13

Sam followed Roger back to his friend's office, and he kept up a personal conversation with him, learning what he'd been up to for so many years. In the Navy, he and Roger had been through their first assignment together for the first two years. Then Sam went to SEAL school with him. Roger washed out and went into intelligence, but they always managed to keep in contact somehow until Sam went deep undercover. He heard from him once or twice over the years, but Roger had no idea what happened to him after the fiasco in Columbia.

"You got a really raw deal there, Sam," Roger said as they entered the building. "I heard about the discharge, and I just couldn't believe it. I figured something really bad must have happened on that mission, because the scuttle was that you never came back stateside. Obviously, I got some bad intel there."

"I settled in Miami. I had to use a little graymail on the Admiral to get that discharge. Otherwise, I would probably be molding away in Gitmo, branded a traitor."

"Wow. I'm glad I never got into your line of work."

"Well, it didn't help that I messed around with an Admiral's wife. I don't get involved with married women if I can help it. It was an accident. An accident that cost me my career and almost my life."

"Well, next time you get hooked up with someone, give me a call. I'll make sure they're single or they don't have any skeletons in their closet before you start fooling around." Roger laughed as he unlocked his office and let Sam inside.

"Actually, there is a woman. Her name is Elsa. And believe me, after we met and I knew I really liked her, I checked her out myself. She's single, rich, and she adores me. And I'm crazy about her." He took the seat Roger offered him. "I just wish this was all over and I could get back to Miami to be with her. Hopefully she hasn't given up on me yet and found someone else."

"If she loves you like Linda loved me, I doubt she will, Sam." Roger sat in his comfy chair, a contented smile on his face. "We were together twenty two years, married nineteen of those. The only reason it took us so long to get hitched was because I wanted to make sure that she was okay with my life. She wouldn't give up on me, and she supported my career choice one-hundred percent." He paused. "Selah was kind of a surprise gift."

"Sounds like she was one of a kind."

Roger swallowed before answering. "Two of a kind, if your Elsa is the same way."

"I don't know about that yet. I guess when I get home I'll find out."

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He pulled out a laptop from a locked drawer in his desk. He gave it to Sam. "This computer has access to CIA files." He scribbled something on a piece of paper. "This is the password. The user name is belpolczek1and3."

"That's an odd user name."

"I can't tell you what it means. Sorry, Sam. Some things not even my wife knew!"

Sam chuckled. "Yes, the life of a spy. I know what that's like." He crossed one ankle over a knee, started up the computer and set it on his lap. Both men fell silent as they went about their business. "Say, Rog, I'm not keeping you from anything right now, am I?" He glanced up at his friend.

Roger looked away from his monitor. "Nope. I just finished a job a couple of days ago and I was prepping for another one, but it's okay. This takes priority." He looked at Sam in such a way that let him know that he was serious about helping as much as he could.

"Okay. Thanks again, Rog. I really owe you for this!"

"I'm not doing this just for you. Remember that."

"Yeah." Sam nodded. He caught a glimpse of a photograph sitting behind Roger on the wide windowsill. It was of a woman with long, wavy brown hair. Her eyes were so full of life and happiness that beamed out of her smile. She sat on a swing with a little girl, Selah, on her lap. She was the one Roger did this for above all else. We'll make sure that your death is avenged, Linda. I swear it! He refocused and went back to work.

Getting access to the CIA files was like being in a candy store the size of Walmart. He rooted through the data and found the information that indicated that he and his friends were dangerous and should be apprehended. He wanted to alter the documents, but Roger didn't have that much clearance. They were read only. So he spent the afternoon looking for anything that could give him a bead on Anson's true whereabouts. He came across a report that stopped him cold.

"Oh, crap."

"What is it, Sam?"

"I just found a report from an agent here in LA. The agency tracked Mike and Fi. Listen to this: 'Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne are using the aliases Sean and Shannon McKellar. They were spotted in Santa Monica. They were found to be staying at the Seaside Motel close to the boardwalk.' The date on this report is today. This is fresh intel."

"Really fresh." Roger looked up at Sam. "Should we go check it out?"

"Did you find anything?"

"Not on them. I'm not finding anything on Anson's latest location, just that he arrived in San Francisco three weeks ago. He could still be there, or somewhere else by now."

"Okay. You know what? I'll go see if I can find Mike and Fi. You get your daughter out of town before anything can happen to her." Sam logged off the computer and gave it back to Roger.

Roger placed the computer in the desk drawer and locked it. "You know where I live?"

"Yeah. But I don't wanna go there. We'll meet at the coffee shop where you had breakfast this morning."

Roger smiled. "I had a feeling somebody was watching me the past couple days. It was you, wasn't it?"

Sam nodded. He stood, and Roger rose and took his hand. "Let's meet up there tomorrow morning, and then the four of us can go up to San Francisco and try to locate Anson."

"Sounds good. I'll get Selah on her way to Seattle, and then I'll come back here and see if I can figure out anything else. I'll contact some of my friends in Frisco and see if they've been approached."

"Thanks, Roger."

"Any time, Sam." They shook hands one more time, and Sam left the office.

Sam parked the truck a block away from the motel. He wasn't worried about Mike and Fi seeing it, but if anyone, like Anson, knew what vehicle he was driving, it would put them all in harm's way. He got out and casually strolled to the motel, kept his head low and hidden beneath the bill of his cap. He entered the lobby, and approached the front desk.

"Afternoon, Sir. How can I help you?"

He smiled at the young woman and answered in a passable brogue. "Aye, I'm lookin' for my sister, Shannon. I was told she and her husband Sean checked in here recently. Sean McKellar."

The woman tapped into her computer. Sam saw her face register that the name McKellar was in their computer, but she didn't acknowledge it aloud. "What's your name, Sir?"

"My name is Jacob Baldwin, Miss."

"One moment, Mr. Baldwin." She pushed a button and spoke into the headset she wore. "Mr. McKellar? There's a gentleman at the front desk by the name of Jacob Baldwin. He said he's your wife's brother." She listened, and a warm smile appeared on her face. "Yes, Sir. I'll send him to your room." She pressed the button again, then looked up at Sam, still smiling. "Mr. McKellar sounded very eager to see you! You can go through that door, it'll take you out to the pool area, and their room is near the shallow end. Number 12."

"Thank ye kindly, Miss!" Sam tapped the bill of his cap and turned toward the door. Once he had the location, he couldn't believe how easy it was to find his friends. He had to force himself to keep a steady, casual pace as he moved to room 12. Once in front of it, he knocked out another one of their many signals. The door flew open, and he almost tumbled inside.

"Get in here." Michael held a gun in one hand, and with the other he tugged on Sam's arm and pulled him inside.

"Ah, careful!"

Michael slammed the door, glanced above where he gripped Sam's elbow, and saw the bandage peeking out from a rolled up sleeve. "Sorry, Sam. What happened to you?"

"It's nothing, just got shot a little."

"A little? Nobody gets a little shot," Fiona exclaimed as she came out of the bathroom. "You either are or you aren't."

Michael turned toward Fiona. "So, are we clean?"

"I didn't find anything. We're safe here."

"Good." Michael turned his attention back to Sam. "How did you find us?"

"Nice to see you again too, Mikey."

Michael smiled and patted his shoulder. "It's good to see you too, Sam."

"I thought you guys were going to Iowa. What happened to that?"

"We did," Fiona answered as she dropped onto the edge of the bed. Michael took a chair at a small table, and indicated for Sam to sit in the other. "But we got there, and Michael couldn't get a job that required a background check, so we decided it would be easier to blend in somewhere bigger. You were going to LA, so we followed."

Michael asked, "You want something, Sam? We don't have any beer, but..."

"Water's fine. Mike, I've had one beer in like, well, since we took off. I think I can handle not having any. I made the mistake of choosing an alter ego who didn't drink, because I figured it was safer, that I wouldn't get impaired and accidentally give something away."

"Wise move." He handed Sam a bottle of water. "We just got in yesterday and picked this place because it was cheap and Fi wanted to be close to the beach. Every time we leave the room and come back, we sweep it for bugs."

"What happened to you, Sam," Fiona asked. "And how did you find us?"

Sam quickly related his activities over the past few days, ending with his meeting with Roger. "He's the one who gave me access to the CIA files. I tried to go in and change some of the reports submitted on us, but he didn't have that good of a clearance. Then I found a report on you guys and where you were. It was filed this morning, so you're not as safe here as you thought."

"There's probably someone watching the motel right now," Michael said and his jaw twitched.

"I'd bet on it. You two need to get out of here. If there's a way out the back somewhere, I can pull around, pick you guys up, and then we can scram."

Fiona tilted her head and glared at Sam. "I'm not that big yet that I can't fit through the bathroom window!"

Sam laughed. "Sorry, Fi. Didn't think I was insulting you there. Okay, so you two scoot out the window and meet me along that side street, and then we'll head up to Frisco."

"Why San Francisco?"

"That's where Roger said he heard Anson was."

Michael's face turned stone cold. "But... he's dead."

"That's what we thought. Apparently not." He drained the water bottle and stood. "Come on, we've gotta get out of here ASAP." He headed for the door. "Give me five minutes."

Michael nodded. He closed the door behind him, and he and Fiona gathered up a few things that fit into a small bag, being careful not to leave any firearms or ammunition behind. They went into the bathroom. Michael opened the narrow window above the tub and checked his watch as he listened for tires on the street.

Sam walked casually to the street, checking out the scenery, and he saw a vehicle on the other side and north a few hundred yards away with two men in it. He turned south and kept his easy pace even as he walked to his truck. He unlocked it, got inside, and started it. It was then that he saw a couple of cell phones sitting on the seat with a note.

He picked up the note, which was short, and quickly read it.

Dear Jake,

Sorry I can't be there to help. The sharks are circling, and the children are in danger of being fish food. The lines are secure, burning phones. Good luck.

Roger

Crap. He was hoping to have Roger's help in locating Anson, but apparently things got too hot for him. He stowed the phones in the glove compartment and put the truck in gear, drove past the corner and down a few blocks. The car's driver didn't follow him. Instead, as he turned onto a side street he saw the two men got out, and from the looks of them, they were Feds. He sped down the street and found a cross street, turned right, and after a couple blocks got back onto the street that ran alongside Mike and Fi's motel room. Fiona waited on the grass, hidden behind an evergreen that kept her invisible from the main road. Michael dropped down from the window and turned.

"Come on," Sam called. "They're heading to your room!"

Michael and Fiona ran across the street and he opened the door. The cooler was on the floor, and Michael pulled it out into the street. As soon as Fiona was settled in the middle and Michael slammed the door shut, Sam hit the gas. At the corner, he turned and went north, hoping to find access to the freeway, or to link up with the Pacific Coast Highway.

"Roger couldn't make it, Mike. He really wanted to help us, but..."

"Roger? Roger who?"

"My old Navy buddy, Roger Holt. Remember, he's the guy who let me borrow his clearances to get the intel on you guys."

"Can you trust him?"

"I trusted him with my life when we were in the service together, and he wants Anson dead as much as we do, so yeah. He managed to drop off a couple of cell phones for us. I put them in the glove compartment."

Fiona reached over Michael and pulled them out. She disassembled one and looked for a bug or extra strong GPS tracker. "This one's clean." She handed it to Michael, and he put it back together while she worked on the second one. "This one is also clean. I guess your friend can be trusted."

"To tell you the truth, at first I wasn't so sure about him, but I'm glad I took a chance. Otherwise, I never would have found you two! I'm tellin ya, Mikey, being on the road alone sucked!"

"We missed you too, Sam." Michael glanced at the side view mirror. "I don't see anyone tailing us."

Sam checked all the mirrors. "I don't see the Fed car, but let's not get too comfy and think we're home free." He saw a sign for the freeway and took the onramp. "Just keep watching."