Assignment: Sunrise
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JA Bard
Chapter 1
A figure crouched at the corner of a building, blending in with the inky blackness that shrouded most of the warehouse district. The soft glow of light above each warehouse doorway shed no illumination on the ground, reaching only to the doorknobs to the service doors, emphasizing the darkness beyond the pale light.
A night guard, shinning his lamp along the uneven ground, heard and saw nothing outside of his own self-made world. Sounds of a tuneless voice crooning to a song bleeding through earphones drowned out the crunching of his feet on the gritty asphalt and noises from creatures in the nearby marsh.
Eyes hidden behind night vision goggles watched until the guard had treaded on to the next set of buildings before moving back behind the warehouse.
The sounds of the blown sand against the backsides of the buildings covered any slight noise made from the unlatching of the small window. After making short work to disengage the alarm, the veiled figure clambered into the shadowless room. Landing in a crouched position on the concrete floor, the figure paused to readjust the NV goggles and then a moment more for the altered flat two-dimensional fluorescent green world to change as the infrared viewing was switched on. The veiled head moved slowly, scanning the area for any hot objects, and then switched the IR off to use a TD-53 radio frequency transmitter detector to scan for any bugs.
They haven’t changed the pattern.
Warily, the figure sniffed the air in the warehouse. Smells from the stacked goods and stale odors from sweaty laborers mixed with the distinct scent of the marsh and ocean air that was blowing in from the opened window. There was no sound from the air conditioner that had been running throughout the day to keep the heat at bay. Not sensing anything that posed a threat, the figure’s attention moved back to the window to close it and reengage the alarm should anyone happen by that have a reason to check.
The faint whirling noise from the long thin stealth rope as it snaked out and wrapped around a steel ceiling crossbeam, joined the normal sounds of the warehouse. After testing the rope, the figure ably scaled onto the beam. Once comfortably seated, the interior of the warehouse was carefully scanned. Confident the equipment monitoring the ceiling was disabled the figure moved above the office, where another stealth rope snaked down. The dark figure efficiently slid down, stopping just above the office window. Carefully, a pinhole video camera was installed just above the warehouse surveillance equipment. Having completed that job, the figure moved back up the rope.
Not wanting to rely on one exit, the figure’s next job was to secure a second exit located in the roof. The rusted hinges on the ceiling window required attention, and it had to be done without the distinctive odor of WD40.
Finished with that chore, the interloper pulled back a black strap that covered a wristwatch.
Good. I still have enough time to look around and get out before anyone arrives.
The figure dropped to the warehouse floor, leaving the rope dangling; perhaps over-confident the rope would not be seen even if the lights were turned on, or perhaps not willing to get rid of a backup exit. With bug detector in a gloved hand the figure moved around the pallets and bulky stacks of goods, using them to hide from any monitoring devices the detector registered. Just inside of the double doors for delivery, a stack of empty pallets gave the figure pause.
What a damn inconvenient place to stack pallets.
The veiled head turned carefully around looking for any monitoring devices. Satisfied the area was clear, the figure curiously walked around the pallets. A pale object was inside the stack. The figure leaned in closer to find a folded envelope pinned between the concrete floor and stacked pallets. A gloved hand moved cautiously through a small opening between the pallets and pulled gently at the discovery. It held firmly in place.
I'll have to cut it loose.
With a razor sharp knife, the envelope was cut away, placed into a plastic bag and tucked into one of the vest’s pouches. Another plastic bag came out, and with the knife blade, the dark surface was scraped. The curled black substance ended up on a swab, placed in the plastic bag and added to the pouch that contained the envelope.
Probably oil or some other junk spilled, but it won't hurt to check it out.
Lights flashed through the front door window, lighting up the interior as far in as the stairs to the office. The employees and delivery drivers used this smaller door. From the sounds, more than one vehicle arrived at the building. Two angry voices started arguing, followed by two doors slamming shut.
The insertion of a key in the lock had the figure inside scanning for a place to hide.
They're early! Adison, you better get the hell out of sight!
The sound of a click and the sudden blinding light sent Adison dropping flat to the cement ground.
“Shut the fuckin’ lights off ya fuckin' fool!” cursed a voice Adison had come to loath in the last three weeks.
Doesn’t he ever stop?
The interior went black again.
“What the hell are we going to do, wait for them in the dark?” a sarcastic voice demanded. “’Cause then I’m gonna have ta go home and get my night goggles.”
“Turn the fuckin' lights on in the office where it can't be seen by Gary in case he cruises by.”
"He’s going to see the damn cars!" the other voice retorted. "And what difference does it make? I own this place. It’s not like I don’t work late on occasion. You’re acting like we’re doing something illegal here!"
Jeeze, will ya two just get a move on up to the office! This floor is covered in crud and I do mind lying on it.
The clanging sounds of the heavy footsteps on the metal stairway muted in the packed warehouse. The office hung above the warehouse floor, with the machinery, lockers, and break area for the workers tucked underneath it.
A light came on and the door slammed shut, rattling everything attached from the windows down to the metal stairway. Light spilled out from the office windows pushing some of the darkness back to the tops of supplies piled as high as the windows.
Quickly, Adison was up and moving soundlessly into the shadows, confident there were no traps or security beams along the way.
I got to get outta here before the meeting takes place, or I won’t be able to trail the other guys. For a place that's suppose to be the local wanna be gangsta's meetin' place, it's been too frickin’ easy to get in. It’s bad for my nerves.
Click!
Oh, beans!
Moving quickly sideways behind a stack of marked boxes, Adison nailed a dark clad calf muscle on a sharp corner. Collapsing onto the floor, a hissing sound escaped from parted lips as the burning pain crept up and down the injured leg.
The gawds be damned!
On padded elbows, Adison hurriedly dragged and rolled until safely hidden behind some crates. While rubbing the injured leg and hoping not to have made too much noise, Adison's ears strained to hear any further noise from the direction of the window. Blinking away tears of pain, Adison leaned closer to the stacked goods so body heat would not be picked up. A cold breeze leaden with salt spray brought the distinct smell of someone that was not in the warehouse earlier. The strain to hear anything other than the arguing voices in the office was finally rewarded with another click. Through the stacked pallets, the goggles picked up a glow moving away from the window.
It’s gonna be the nosebleed seats.
Awkwardly, Adison rose and limped to the dangling rope. Five minutes later Adison stretched flat on one of the steel ceiling beams looking down at the office. Eyes behind the goggles opened wide at the sight of a soft glow of body heat, suspended outside of the office wall. After about five more minutes, the glow dropped down and moved away, disappearing behind florescent green shapes of machinery.
So, who is he, the Fly? I wonder whose side he’s on.
The ebb and flow of sound from the angry voices in the office nearly covered the now familiar sound of someone opening a window. Adison studied the newcomers as two more visitors struggled to fit through the small window that was already more popular than the much larger and convenient opening commonly referred to as a ‘front door’.
What is this, Friday night live for Peeping Toms or finals for an Internet detective’s certificate?
The front door to the warehouse opened and three bluish-white figures moved up the stairs into the office as if they were familiar with the route.
Ah, from sideshows to the main attraction. Everyone seems to know the show was going to start early but me. They must have forgotten to send me a change of plans.
Adison’s gloved hand pressed the earpiece more firmly into place annoyed that with the added watchers there was more of a chance that something would go awry.
"Well, it's about time," the oh-so familiar sarcastic voice greeted the newcomers.
"Y’all got somewhere else ya need to be, don’t let me keep ya," a deep southern voice drawled. The voice sent chills skittering down Adison’s spine. It was also a sharp contrast to the fast speech of the man Adison had labeled ‘AM’ or acerbic mouth. Hopefully most of the business would not be done talking or the tape may run out.
"Just hand over the fuckin' money. You keep changing the fuckin' time and place like you don't trust us," the irritating voice continued.
"Trust…now that is somethin' interstin' coming from y’all," the voice drawled slowly. "Bo."
Something heavy dropped on a table. A zipper was pulled, and then what sounded like someone fanning money followed by thumps from packets being dropped on the table surface came though the small earpiece.
"It's not all here," the second voice reported calmly.
"The last delivery was damaged goods. Too damaged, ah might add, to administer the drugs she should have been on to keep her manageable. Let me remind y’all,” the voice paused, “this here’s a business…and she is our investment. Our buyers are guaranteed that their purchases are healthy and manageable upon delivery."
"Don't give me that fuckin' crap! You owe us the full price!" the voice argued, as if intentionally provoking their Southern business associate.
There was a rustling sound, the sharp intake of a breath and grunts.
"Getyer ‘ands oftme, ya motherfunckinsonofabitch," a voice gurgled.
"Ah do think we need ta get a clear understandin' here. Simply put…ya don't damage our merchandise without some repercussion. Do ah make mahself clear?"
There was a pause. Adison wondered if any of the unseen watchers would reveal himself to rescue the most obnoxious of the group.
"Bo, go ahead and release that unwise young man before he has himself a heart attack.”
The sound of scrambling and furniture moving around was heard.
“There was no fuckin’ problem!” the strained but unrepentant voice struggled to get out.
“The problem was that the agreed upon plan was not followed, nor was the appointed man keeping us abreast of any changes.”
"Where the hell do you get off tellin’ us how to run our fuckin' business? You got your fuckin' merchandise. No one can trace the fuckin' disappearance to you, and no one can trace the fuckin' disappearance to us. Mike being out is not your fuckin' business.” The voice had now fully recovered and was escalating to an unretractable position.
"Ah understand the knifin' occurred two days a’fore the operation officially started,” the soft voice drawled, a counter point to the louder and faster speech of the volatile participant. “It should have been incumbent upon y’all to have notified me so ah could have mah own boys here ta have made sure the plan was executed the way it was agreed upon…instead of cleanin' up after y’all in removin' evidence and potential witnesses."
The soft voice may be a counter tempo but the words were like dry wood thrown on a hungry fire, and predictably, it further provoked the other man.
“You sonofabitch! There was no mess or evidence you had to take care of! You’re just using that as an excuse not to fuckin’ pay us the full price!"
“Ah won’t argue with y’all. Ah, will simply state the facts…y’all delivered late, at a different site, in daylight ah might add, our property was sick and bruised. Our buyer doesn’t buy merchandise in poor condition. Bo, our time here has come to an end.”
It was an abrupt end, with the men leaving immediately. The southern business associate apparently knew how hard to push, and when to leave. It indicated to Adison that they had met enough times for this familiarity to be developed.
The outer door to the warehouse closed. An engine started and moved away.
Something slammed onto a table with enough force that made Adison cringe from the amplified sound.
"Two days before this was going down, and you didn't tell me that Mike was out!?” a voice exploded. "Couyon! If Mike is out, the leadership falls to me! You told me everything was all right and Mike got hurt afterwards! Where do you get off running your own game?"
"Everything was fuckin’ well under control!"
"Control is following the plan unless an unforeseen event occurs. You were to call for new instructions if you could not follow the original plan. Everyone in this organization works together and has no problem following those instructions – except you!”
"I adapted to the situation! It’s not like I was given a list of phone numbers to call in case I stubbed my toe! They’re just using that as an excuse to not pay us the full amount!”
“You stupid dickhead!" The tone sounded incredulous. "Listen to what I’m telling you! The merchandise belongs to that guy, our customer that you just pissed off! Bobby doesn’t like mess-ups! You were the hired help, the drone, the buck private, the peon, you asshole…nothing more! You had one phone number. My cell. That was all you needed. As of now, you are out of this operation!”
"Well cell phones don’t work so good in the some places. And that isn’t the problem here. You didn’t speak up when that dickhead shorted us! What kind of leader is that? You have no fuckin’ backbone! You didn’t even ask for any goddamn proof of what he’s saying. You took him at face value instead of believing and askin’ the one person who was there! That’s not -- "
"Proof?” the voice interrupted. “Let me list a few of them, Danny. You like to beat up on defenseless women, he reported the package was damaged; you didn’t tell anyone that Mike was out, you were supposed to be working with him; and lies, Danny? Should I waste both our time and list lies you’ve been caught in? If you left anything that would lead the Feds here, kiss life as you know it goodbye.”
"They are thieves…and liars! That’s how they make their money! How the hell do you think Bobby got to be second? He’s stealing right out from under your nose! I can’t believe you let the motherfucker go without askin’ to see the proof…and I can’t believe the Boss would have either! The buyer picked her up and on time! And I’m not some fuckin’ amateur!” There was a pause as if Danny was trying calm himself down.
“The Feds won’t find any trace of the bitch,” he continued in a calmer and confident tone. “With the recent rains, there’s no evidence left around the fuckin' Crest cabin. Nothing’s gonna happen. Just close the fuckin' safe and let's get the fuck outta here before the night guard gets back from his lunch break. Shit, I gotta do the weekend shift because asshole Mark took the weekend off and I got stuck with patrol duty. Damn prick. I'm gonna miss the fuckin' games tonight! If they hadn’t changed the damn meeting ta tanight, I wouldn’t have missed ‘em at all.”
There was a long utterance of words Adison did not recognize but guessed were obscenities and whatever went with them, such as hand gestures. Amos Anders, the owner of the warehouse, used his hands a lot with his conversations.
Crest cabins? Where have I heard of them before?
"You hid her up in the Crest cabins?” the voice finally got out clearly. “You are possede! Cofaire? That will be the first place the law will look! Does Bob-bo know this? If Mark looks into this woman's disappearance...” Amos did not finish, instead continued on another troublesome thought. “It’s bad enough that those Southern idiots chose to kidnap another FBI protected witness, but it’s worse that they did it in our back yard…again…and so soon after the other two! Then you deliver her late at a different drop point in full daylight…damaged! A cunja has been put on this operation! It is one big fuckup!" A safe door slammed shut and then another. "You know goddamn well if Mark sticks his nose in this he's worse than a hound dog on a scent."
"Hell, Harper's Pet? Mr. Shinny Badge Cop? He makes me sick with his damn by the book attitude. He's not going to find a fuckin' thing and if he even gets close. I’ll take care of it."
“You’ll do no goddamthing! Didn’t I just say you’re out?! Anything happens to him and you’re contract meat! You dumb sonofabitch! We don’t knock off the local police! Chief Harper is worse than Mark! Then we have to worry about Judge Parker. Jeeesuuuus. That’s all we need is to have the Feds and every other law enforcement group here. You’re not to do a goddamthing. Do you hear me?”
"You know, you worry about the little things. He's a nobody in a small town. And you’re pathetic, sweatin’ nothin’," Danny continued. “If it gets too hot in one town, move to another. You stay mobile and flexible.”
"You know, Danny, that’s real sad that you aren’t worried or scared because being part of the family doesn’t mean mistakes are overlooked…by any of the groups involved."
Adison was impressed with Amos’ change of attack. Danny was right on all accounts if this was a state-wide run gang…and it was. As a leader Amos did make crucial mistakes…which led to the next question…why did he let the other group get away with not paying without proof? And since the payment was supposed to have included late payments for other deliveries…why was this group still doing business with them? She did not know of any crime business that did not pay up front for services completed.
So, it must have been a contract for the delivery of a number of people with the final person the payoff. This is the longest delay I know of. Must have been their last victim. She was not exactly a sitting duck.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Suddenly the belligerent voice had a wary tone to it. "What family …?"
Oooh. So, there is something that slows him down. Family laundry. I gotta research this angle, and why it’s so important to keep business in this small town?
"Porno flicks have better actin’ then what you and that Southern Belle Boy just put on. If anyone else had messed with their merchandise, he would have been dead meat. No questions asked. No apologies. No conversation. Quick. Easy. And very efficient. Consequences, remember he mentioned that? You just got a warning, a mere slap on the wrist at best. We all know that’s a family run organization. It’s a no brainer, Danny.”
“You’re full of shit! They don't scare me either." The retort had less volume to it.
“I'm sure they don't. This is a small town Danny…in case you haven't noticed by now. However, it doesn’t mean we’re dumb. Keeping secrets is rather difficult…like your trips to the City for rough sex and meetings with someone in that bar. I’ll say this again…if anything happens to Detective Scripts …no questions asked…you are dead meat.”
"You're fuckin’ crazy, man! You’re nothing but a spineless idiot. You’re the one responsible for us not getting all the fuckin’ money! You let him tell you our business! You’re the screw-up. The Boss is gonna wantta know how we got shorted and I’ll tell him you let Bobby bullshit you out of the money."
A short laugh. "Yeah, right. You and the Boss," the voice snickered. “Get the fuck outta here, Danny.”
There were a few moments when there was absolute silence, and then it was followed by stomping feet. The sound of a doorknob being grabbed violently was heard without the aid of the microphone. The office door slammed shut and then after the noisy decent from the metal stairs another door banged shut with enough violence that left everyone’s teeth rattling. An engine roared to life outside and tires skidded on the sandy surface before gripping.
Adison could hear some faint tapping.
"This is Amos…yeah, they delivered, but short…Chill out. I just blacklisted the cause of the short, Danny. Pass it around to the others to do nothing until we get word…No, nothing…BJ said he’s determined to be back with us in about a week….No, there’s no chance that he would pass medical to return to his cop duties for at least two months. He can get business done on this end until then. Has James found anything yet?…Well, stick some more people on it. I’m beginning to smell a dead rat here…No, from what the Southern Dickhead said the Boss already knew about the short and the screw-up…No, I don’t know why we’re the last to know -- unless it was something just arranged and he didn’t have a chance to tell us. In my next chat with the Boss, I want to know what is preventing us from sending Danny home in a body bag. I’ve had it with him. Damn idiot threatened to take out Detective Scripts if it looks like he’s onto us… I know…I know! Yeah…right…I don’t know, but when the Boss says this is gonna be homebase, it’s gonna be hell-or-high water. You know how he plans way in advance. For all I know he’s using a crystal ball….Yeah, yeah. On my grandmother’s grave. Night."
The phone receiver dropped loudly into its cradle.
Ouch! Have a heart for us eve’s droppers.
"Saleau, saloppe," the voice muttered softly but angrily as something else was slammed. “I have a couyon to babysit.”
The lights went out and a few moments later, the front door was firmly closed and locked. Adison peered down on the floor spotting the two glows as they detached from behind some boxes next to the office and moved in an erratic pattern, matching where the monitoring devices were not covering, and back to the window that had become a window of opportunity. Not very quietly the two figures clambered out of the window. The window shut with an audible bang, followed by faint cursing. Patiently, Adison waited for the other visitor to leave, who instead, landed quietly on the stair platform and disappeared into the office.
Now what are you up to, Mr. Fly? I know you know about the cameras…so what kind of statement are you making here?
The earpiece picked up little movement. After about ten minutes, the sound of the safe door clicking shut signaled whatever business he had in the safe was finished.
Now what did he do? Mark the bills, or count them? If he marked them, that would mean he’s with a law enforcement group. But Mel didn’t mention any Feds in the area. This is getting more interesting all the time.
The dark figure moved out of the office using the front door instead of the window to exit. The light above the door on the outside of the building was out, so without NV goggles, not even a silhouette of his figure would be seen.
Now how did he know the light was out? Well, I gotta grab my stuff before I leave.
Adison glanced at the device in a gloved hand.
What on earth? What happened to the…now they are. How did he know the equipment went offline? Did he unplug the power? No, they would have a backup generator…unless…damn, but he is good. He either knew there was going to be a time delay or he planned it. Well, well, well. Mr. Fly…you are good.
Adison dangled above the office where the camera had been inserted, pausing a moment when hearing a sound. The veiled head turned, surveying the area slowly.
Nothing.
Okay, Adison, now is not the time to be hearing things.
Adison carefully put the small camera back into a vest pocket, secured it and climbed back up the rope. Unattached it, stored it across chest and back and made for the other rope. Adison hung on the rope for a moment, wondering if maybe escaping through the ceiling exit would be a better choice. A faint whirling noise from the right had Adison twisting to see what it was. The goggles showed the overhead warehouse crane was approaching quickly and almost silently on well-greased wheels. Adison’s grip on the rope was released, however the big, bulky and heavy machine clipped a shoulder, sending the dark clad body sideways and crashing into a stack of goods. The overhead crane kept moving on its track into a darker corner. Adison bounced a few inches off the plastic wrapped toilet paper boxes, and then dropped straight down onto the hard concrete.
Ooffff! Thank the gawds it wasn’t a stack of cans.
Adison's knees were as wobbly as a newborn colt, with wits not being in any better shape. It did not help that the NV goggles were dangling at an unusable angle, giving no reference point in the blackened room. For a brief panicky moment, Adison blindly stumbled and bumped into containers, until discipline won over and was finally able to regroup and listen. Loud heartbeats almost covered the crackling sounds from plastic. With both hands the visor was tightened and readjusted, as was the sniper veil and clothing.
Nope, that noise isn't from me and by the sounds of it, this person doesn’t mind being heard…or seen. How come I’m the only one worrying about the damn monitors?
Adison's head tilted upward to scan the tops of the stacks nearby.
Uh, oh.
When the noise was above Adison’s head, Adison reached a gloved hand up and pulled the other dark figure down. Hands grappled and then Adison shoved a shoulder into the midsection of the other, forcing the air out of the stranger, who slid to the ground limply. Darting behind another stack, twisting and stumbling along, Adison finally crept under a tarp of goods. Wiggling between and under boxes, hoping to cut off any body heat readings, Adison tried to breathe quietly and normally.
Who was that? How much she see? Did she get here before me? No…I've been here a while and if she came before me that shoulder I gave her to her bladder would have emptied it. It was a good solid blow. So, she must have entered sometime during the meeting when we all were distracted and from an entrance I wasn't watching. And what is it about that person that I feel is a she? Body size. Big, but agile to be moving across the stacks, wasn’t wearing Kevlar…maybe a spy for the Jaded Amulet? Why so many visitors?
The game of cat and mouse would have continued if the loud slamming of car doors and deep voices from outside of the warehouse had not interrupted the play. The one squeak that had not been eliminated from the ceiling exit sounded loud to Adison’s adrenaline-hyped senses.
Hey, that’s my exit!
Adison hesitated in following, but the arrival of the local militia ruled out that window. Cautiously Adison walked between the stacks, halting when her foot kicked something.
This is where I winded her.
Quickly the object was picked up and stuffed in a pocket. Adison was in a hurry to leave. Retracing steps to the rope, Adison hissed a short curse at finding the rope missing.
And she removed my rope to boot!
Touching the knob on the NV viewer, a closer picture of the missing rope could be seen. It was curled up on the beam with part of it looped down for anyone in the daylight to see.
She is trying to ruin my night.
Once safely back outside, Adison scaled the neighboring building to look over the area and see where everyone was gathering. The wind buffeted against Adison's dark clad figure as Kevlar gloved fingers clung onto the roof hoping not to be spotted, though thinking it was more than likely since no self-respecting militia member would come to a night party without his NV goggles, especially since it was held without lights.
At the edge of the woods, people milled around.
So, are they waiting for someone to start the games or just giving the other team a chance to get set?
One of the figures stood up and began to move into the marsh with the others peeling off and following. Meanwhile, another figure moved from the side of the warehouse where she had just exited and followed the group.
All right. The games have begun. Time for me to get out of here.
Sliding down the side of the building, Adison gathered the hidden recorder and tucked it into a stashed backpack, along with the coils of rope. The beam of a brilliant white light cut through the darkness, as it jerkily moved over parts of the buildings.
What is that?
Pressing against the peeled and cracked exterior of the warehouse wall, Adison peered around the corner. A black-n-white cruiser with a dog hanging out of the window approached slowly. The dog started barking and growling as the bright light from the handheld spotlight swept across the area, revealing in its white light, the various SUVs, trucks and one or two plain vehicles, parked around two of the warehouses. The vehicle moved off into the night with its taillights going from a point of brightness to nothing.
At the sound of movement in the area, Adison took refuge behind a trash bin.
The intake of breath from behind Adison sent the dark figure instinctively to one knee, as the rifle butt aimed for the head, crashed into the full bin. The camo dressed assailant was taken by surprise. Adison elbowed the assailant; however his chest was padded with Kevlar. Adison, stepped back to find another point of attack. The assailant recovered quickly, bringing down the rifle butt on Adison's shoulder, but Adison anticipated the move and was already moving in a counter motion. The assailant was off-balance and Adison spinning around to gather power, kicked the assailant's solar plexus with enough force to power past the weak defense of an awkwardly lifted leg. The assailant was sent backward into the trash bin, breaking the night’s silence with a crash and a flood of curses. With one hand, Adison scooped up the dropped rifle, and with the other resecured NV goggles. Moving at an uneven gait between two buildings, Adison hobbled out of sight of the downed militia member.
I sure as hell hope they just think I’m one of the boys out to give them a run for their money. A grin creased the face beneath the mask. Nothing like stirring up these boys with a bit of unplanned excitement.
Adison quickly moved in the direction where all the other hot spots were, cutting across the open area hoping it was not going to be open season with buckshot. The pain in Adison's leg was almost crippling. Once behind the trees that marked the beginning of the marsh, Adison slowed down. Moving through the tall grasses and breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush, Adison removed the ammunition from the chamber of the stolen rifle. The dark veiled head moved back and forth, up and down, looking for specific hot objects nearby. Pausing for the length of time it took to shove the rifle barrel deep into the soft mud, Adison moved further into the grasses.
A voice from the right had Adison dropping in the mud, hoping the marsh grasses would be enough cover. Something that did not smell like it was part of the natural decomposing marsh life settled like a heavy blanket around Adison.
A corpse, ugh! Can't mistake that smell. Great! What the hell did someone dump here? Like, do I really want to know?
A deep male voice from over a handheld communicator easily carried in the night. The voice was cursing the find of the mud-encrusted rifle and attributing it to the other team.
You are sooo lucky, Adison. Let them stumble on the stinkin’ body or bodies. But, hell, I can't return to my room smelling like I've rolled around on something dead.
Adison sniffed the wind that hinted of something fresher. The smell of the salty ocean foam gusted by.
That's right, the ocean is near. Maybe a walk in the ocean can get rid of some of this smell.
Reversing direction, Adison headed toward the rocky beach, stopping long enough behind a dune to pull out a dark elastic band to wrap the injured leg. It took forty five minutes to get to the beach.
****
The predawn sky went from a shining canopy of sparking stars against the black background, to a graying sky above and a brilliant swash of oranges, reds and purple along the tree tops in the west. Adison had napped on the beach until dawn not wanting to arouse curiosity if she were noticed. Dark clothing and tools were carefully hidden on the beach to be picked up later. The equipment would be rather hard to explain if found on any law-abiding citizen, though Adison had taken pains not to have gear that only law enforcement was authorized to carry. Her dark attire was exchanged for a long sleeved green sweatshirt that deepened the green color of her eyes. The matching sweatpants hid the calf muscle comfortably wrapped with an ace bandage. From her backpack she pulled out flat soled canvas shoes, devoid of marsh mud and dry, exchanging them with the pair she had rinsed in the ocean. Studying herself in a small mirror, she wiped a dirt smudge off her chin, brushed her shoulder length blond hair behind her ears, and tied it into a ponytail. She tucked the mirror back into the side pocket of her pack. The one hour walk back into town allowed her to work in some warmth to her cold limbs and work out the soreness in her leg.
Battered, bruised and weary, Adison climbed the steps to Crimson Rose Bed n' Breakfast, halting when a voice hailed her from the street. As she turned, she brushed a stray blond strand of hair out of her face. A tall dark haired man, dressed as a jogger, even down to the neon shoes, was standing outside the bed and breakfast's gate with a young gawky Irish wolfhound prancing around his legs.
The dog’s tongue lolled over the side of a long jaw lined with sharp teeth, looking as if she had been running hard.
"Ma’am, out a bit early."
Well, he seems harmless enough. Nice boyish smile. Why do I get this feeling he’s not all that innocent?
"On the east coast, this isn’t that early. Are early morning walks discouraged?" She hoped her smile was innocent looking.
The man shook his head still smiling. "No, Ma’am, just unusual. Most people like to sleep in on their vacations."
"Ah. Well, I do this out of self-preservation. I like to eat good food and this place certainly has some tempting breakfast selections." I’ll say. One of the nicest places I’ve stayed in for a while.
"Yeah. They have a good chef. If you get a chance, try Mollie’s Creations. Have a nice day."
"You too and thanks for the tip." Well, I haven’t met too many small town cops …but he sure sounds like one.
Amused at the thought, she watched as the dog pressed her long nose against his open palm. The tall stranger then moved his hand forward, with the lanky dog springing ahead into a loping canter, and her tall master following in a long legged lope of his own.
Well, well. The way he moves is familiar. Looks like someone from last night. So…whose side is he on?
Back in her room, she stood before the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, looking for anything that could have led him to pick her out. The only thing that stuck out was her canvas shoes. They were cheap flat shoes. Not enough arch or heel support for even a walker. They were from another wardrobe, another face.
I should have looked for some more appropriate shoes to stash in my knapsack. Well, too late to do anything about that. At this point, I'll worry about damage control if I get caught with a smoking gun. Well, let me see what was in the envelope.
Pulling on surgical gloves, Adison removed the envelope from her pocket and pulled out the sheet within it. Unfolding the paper and holding it up to the light, she looked for anything worth noting. She picked off some lint and a few hairs, and put them in another plastic bag.
Hm. Someone's been folding and unfolding this a lot. Not kept in a wallet by the wear on the paper fibers. And…here is some more lint. Let’s store that in another plastic bag. Okay, someone's list of…names…and asterisks, check marks, skull n' crossbones, and widgets next to the names. Damn. I cut the center of this page …doesn’t look like anything was written on it, though. What the hell do these symbols mean?
Johnny Redfield *
Bob Mayhew b
John Hudson *
Henry James b
Marvin Larimey b
Gene Blackmond
George Matthews *
Mike Housten b
Thomas Meadows *
Jinks Wilde *
Al Brentwith *
Bill Prost b
BJ Headers *
Sam Henry Adams b
Carl Gates *
Richard Mack *
Ed Carson b
Okay, let's start with the names I know. Mike Learner, Amos Anders, and John Hudson, sometimes called John H. Alright, Learner and Anders have the same mark so it could mean they’re the supervisors. Hmm. No Andy on the list and he’s third in command. John H is a White Knight messenger. No Mr. Shinny Badge Mark on the list. Okay, another slant…how many of each of these characters is there? Seven asterisks, two check marks, one skull, and nine widgets. Hmmm. Is this some kind of betting hand? Well, I'll make a copy and send Mel the original to see what the team comes up with. Okay, next, I got to find out about those Crest cabins. Where did I see that name? Ahh. A brochure downstairs.
Adison took a shower while planning her day’s itinerary. Later, hair dried and dressed in hiking clothes, she asked the server about renting a cabin in the nearby forest as she ordered her breakfast. She was directed to the Crest Cabin’s brochure. While she sipped her coffee waiting for her breakfast to be served, she read through the pamphlet on cabins in the forest getting an idea of their location and availability for rental or lease and prices.
****
"Hey boss, it's a go for the travel story. Got a rough draft done and sent you an E-mail on it. I also mailed you some knick-knacks I picked up in a few shops that I thought would be good examples of their individual craft styles. I'm going to check out the local landscape and see what else the town has to offer besides its tourist trade. I'll keep in touch,” she rattled to the voice mail number that was setup for her.
Adison hung the battered receiver up. She pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, looking around her. The payphone was outside of the ranger's office, at the bottom of the rock steps, to the left. She avoided the use of a scrambler on her conversation because it would alert Ranger Mayhew that she was more than a travel reporter, just in case he had the phone tapped. However, she had not resisted cleaning the phone of the dirt caked on the ear piece and mouth piece, after discreetly taking finger prints…just in case.
Well, Ranger Mayhew, another name and face identified…thank you very much. If I find half the list of names here, what a rout that will be.
According to the brochure and Ranger Mayhew, they oversaw a group of eight cabins up along the Crest, which the government rented out or long term leased. There were a few privately owned cabins intermixed with the government owned and operated ones. She had told Ranger Mayhew she was interested in renting or perhaps buying a cabin. While she talked with Ranger Mayhew, another ranger entered the room and mentioned one of the privately owned cabins was for sale – which seemed to upset Mayhew. That piqued her interest so she told them that she would like to look at it, giving the excuse that owning was better than leasing. Ranger Gray Horse retrieved the key while Ranger Mayhew gave her the directions.
Sliding back in the rental car, she pointed the vehicle up the winding mountain road. Twenty minutes later, she was still slowly climbing, scanning the unpaved side roads for any recent passage by a heavy vehicle and making a recorded list of license plates of cars leaving the area. Adison pulled her car over when her rearview mirror showed a dark blue Toyota Four Runner dressed for serious back road driving, coming up fast behind her. Instead of passing and moving on up the winding road, it pulled in front of her, and signaled her to stop. She slid the tape recorder into the leg pocket of her kaki colored pants as she obediently pulled off the side of the road.
Now what is this about?
The tall dark haired runner from the morning now had a badge looped over his waistband in clear view, with a leather belt holding a holster and a very big semiautomatic. He leaned down in front of her driver’s window, motioning her to roll her window all the way down.
"Good afternoon. Are you following me?" Adison asked politely. And why?
"Nope. A woman traveling alone though, can be dangerous. Heading anywhere special?"
"I was looking into buying a cabin up this way." He can’t be warning me about him, ‘cause I don’t get those vibes off him.
He nodded. His dark glasses reflected her face wearing sunglasses and a polite smile, which she hoped looked casual and not irritated.
"That would be up along the Crest."
Adison continued to smile, while reading all she could from the cop’s body language. She decided to continue in the same vain as when she arrived in town…she was a travel reporter writing a piece on this tourist town, Sunrise. So far, she did not think she was doing anything suspicious…
"I'm Mark Scripts, detective with the Sunrise PD and you might be…?"
She held out a hand. "Kay Smith." Well, well, well. Mr. Shinny Badge Cop himself. Were you just party crashing last night ‘cause you had nothing better to do…or what? And what kind of alarms am I setting off in your head that we keep meeting? Married, by the ring. You don’t look the type to fool around…but…that doesn’t mean you don’t. So…what do you want?
He nodded waiting for her to offer more.
"So…" he continued when she contributed nothing more, "the cabins you're looking for are straight up this road. The dirt road you will want is marked with a bright yellow flag. I'll follow you to make sure you get there okay. I don't want you to come up missing."
"That's kind of you. Though, I hope it's not interfering with something else you might have to do." Well, Adison, instead of patting yourself on the back about picking him out as a cop…you need to figure out how to ditch him. Why does he have to be so accommodating? Can’t you just go about your business and leave me to mine? she thought to him.
He smiled. "Not at all."
Adison returned with her polite smile. Oh, hell!
At the road where she was to turn off, she could now see why he followed her. The rental car’s carriage would not have cleared the first part of the entrance over the dirt road. The recent rains probably eroded the weaker parts of the entrance…or maybe the intention was to keep out sightseers.
Strange that the ranger had not mentioned it…oh, yeah, he did say the roads were rough. Not a big clue. Must have thought this would keep me out.
"Want a ride?" the polite voice offered.
“Sure, that’s really nice of you.” So, is this a test to see just how much I want to check out the cabins…or how much I trust you?
Adison locked up the rental car, and climbed up into the lifted truck's cab, grateful she was agile.
"You come up here often?" she asked casually, as the truck easily cleared the obstruction. The vehicle was bouncing and careening in sideways motions, but doing what it was designed to do -- keeping up its forward momentum.
"Often enough."
"Hmm." Well, can't hold it against him for giving so little information. It's not like I'm giving anything away to inspire sharing.
Adison's eyes scanned three scattered cabins, for any life signs. Another one with smoke rising from its fireplace sat further back. She thought about the chances of a forest fire from the fireplaces and hoped they had a good cinder catcher in the stacks.
The truck bounced off in another direction moving further into the wooded area.
"That's the one that's for sale, Ms. Smith."
Adison turned her attention back to her driver and to where he nodded. "Oh. Looks…rustic." Rustic? Oh, boy. I can’t believe I’m being that nice.
Det. Scripts merely smiled as the truck came to a stop near the cabin. "The family that owned it split up. The husband kept it for a while and now wants to sell it. It's one of the few cabins that are privately owned." He opened his door and slid out.
That’s just great. He's going to do the tour guide thing too. Surely he came up here for something other than tour guide duties.
Adison climbed down from the cab and secured her fanny pack around her waist. Looking around she studied the terrain that could hide snipers, snakes, and bugs that wanted to get too intimate with her. She was not wearing a Kevlar vest for man made projectiles, but her hiking boots did have high tops to protect against the indigenous wildlife with teeth or other blood sucking appendages, provided they did not bite above her knees. Her long kaki pants covered the tops of the boots and the ace bandage that wrapped around the bruise she sustained from the night before. Her cream-colored shirt was covered by a light tan coat, which hid a semiautomatic sitting snugly under her left armpit and the bruise on her shoulder. She was sure her hip was also bruised but that was not something that would normally show with the clothing she wore. At the door, she produced the key the ranger had given her but paused to look around the area before opening it.
It felt as if she was being watched…through the cross hairs of a rifle. Seeing nothing besides birds and a squirrel, she returned her attention to the door. By the scratches on the doorknob, someone had been practicing their lock picking skills with an unsteady hand. Before stepping in, Adison swung the door open and peered in. The interior odor wafted out and settled on them, smelling of unclean bodies and one of them was sick. She wanted so badly to pull her Glock out and feel it's reassuring weight in her hand, but that would mean giving up one of her trump cards – an ID to legally carry a concealed weapon, and then one that gave her the authority to look where she wanted: an ID as a bounty hunter.
Silently, she cursed whoever was responsible for this situation that may compromise her cover. She hated wasting identities. Somehow, she did not think Mr. Shinny Badge Cop was the average Joe Blow that would believe whatever story she gave. Some people were like that. They relied on something deeper than instincts. She was one of them and suspected this person was another. Inwardly, she groaned. In her line of work, anytime was a bad time to meet someone like him.
Det. Scripts firmly pulled Adison back, moving forward with a nice big 45 Springfield 1911A fitting comfortably in his large hands extended before him in the classic cop pose.
Whoa, Mr. Cop, you would make a good advertisement for a gun magazine.
Adison waited near the door, simultaneously listening to noises from inside and outside the cabin, ready to come to his aid if needed and ready to duck inside of the cabin if the goose bumps on her arms got worse.
Det. Scripts came back looking grim. "Come on. This place is not open for viewing. Looks like whoever stayed here last didn't clean up."
Adison stifled her look of dissention; realizing normal civilians did not take pleasure in looking at something that smelled as bad as an unclean sickroom. For just a brief moment, she entertained the idea of using her magazine credentials to get a look.
Nope. I don’t think he’ll buy the idea that a travel magazine writer is suddenly turning into a front-page news reporter. I already have his attention and that is not good for business. I have a feeling I’m going to be here a little longer and I don’t want to be running into him any more.
She followed the detective toward the cabin with smoke coming from its chimney. Adison could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Uh, oh!
As she made a grab for the detective's arm to pull him down, he was reaching back for her. With greater strength, he gave her a firm push in the opposite direction toward a big tree trunk while he rolled behind another.
Good thinking. Give the shooter two mobile targets to worry about.
A piece of a live tree trunk stung Adison’s cheek as she peered around her tree. She hit the ground and rolled to her feet still not pulling her gun, looking as she rolled to where the shot could have come from. Her insides were shaking from the narrow escape, but other parts of her body reacted the way they had been trained. Ignoring the sound of her coat ripping under the arms, she came back to her feet, and without waiting for the detective, she sprinted to the right of where she guessed the shooter was, knowing the detective was smart enough to move to the left and circle whoever it was. Whatever weapon the shooter had, he was using a silencer. Only the occasional splattering of whatever the bullet hit told her where his aim was. It did not relieve her any that he was not aiming to kill, only to slow them down. Why? What was happening that needed him to draw their attention away from where they were heading?
Both Det. Scripts and Adison converged on the same spot their shooter would have been but they only found a few empty cartridges their gunman was too much in a hurry to pick up. Adison picked one up and slipped it into her pocket when the detective had turned to follow a trail, using the trees to protect him. Within the forest, the echo of a motorcycle engine roaring to life told Adison they would not be catching the shooter at this time, unless he ran into a tree. Adison stood where she was letting her eyes search for any movement. A small sound behind her had her rolling to the side and pulling her weapon out.
A white haired older looking man stood before her with his hands in the air with the pinky on his left hand wiggling.
"Left three nights ago. Took a sick women with him."
"How many?" she asked softly. So, this is Sam Bear, my back-up -- if needed. She quickly returned her semiautomatic back to her holster.
"One." He lowered his arms keeping his hands in sight. "The men he met along the fire road were dressed in camos. Heavy on the armament side. Real professional. Someone returned this morning…just about tore the place up looking for something. Not part of either group, though. He returned about an hour ago with someone else."
The old man looked up as the detective approached.
Adison busied herself with looking at her torn blazer.
"Morning, Mark."
"Good morning, Sam. Back from vacation early I see." He nodded toward the cabin where they had just come from. "Would have been here sooner but I got an early morning call for a body on the beach.”
“Murder?”
“A couple of teens sleeping off whatever they had the night before. I missed something?"
"Not much."
Mel didn't say the local PD was working on this case. So what does Mr. Shiny Badge Cop know of this missing person? Obviously he's been working on it.
"Ms. Smith, why don't you go on and wait for me in my truck. I'll be but a minute."
I think it’s time I introduce myself to Sam -- without a chaperon.
Adison nodded toward the two men and started to walk back to the truck carefully placing her feet on the uneven ground. Glancing up, she spotted a reflection from further within the woods. Turning to look at the men, she decided the conversation was going to last longer than a minute. Stepping into the shady part of the forest, her eyes attempted to see beyond the darkness of the shadows. The forest opened up again and a cabin, all by itself, sat in the center of the late morning light. A busy stream could be heard nearby. From her quick glance around, there was no trash, no chair on the small porch, no smoke from the stack. It just looked empty and though well cared for…vacant for a long time.
Moving in for a closer look, she approached from the porch side.
Now, if I were to buy one of these places, this would be it. This place has a nice feel to it.
Carefully moving to a window, she made sure not to set the alarm off wired around the porch and windows.
I wonder what type of alarm this is and if it does go off, who’s notified?
The curtains pulled across most of the windows kept the interior dark from any peering eyes, thus revealing little if anything of the room’s contents. Walking around the square building, she found a small shed ten yards away from the cabin. It was a storage shed and not an outhouse. That was promising.
"Four rooms. One of the few with a basement. It’s got a toilet, stall shower, new Jacuzzi, small kitchen…just got equipped with solar power too. Battery stores right over there and a generator in case he needs more power. Great for one or two people, but only if you don't intend on staying indoors much. Cold in winters, though. And it’s got lots of bookshelves."
Sam and Detective Scripts had caught up with her.
"Who owns it?" She turned to look at Sam.
"A writer. Use to do most of his writing up here but he's getting on in years. He’s a widower with no kids. Chances are he'll be selling it soon and if he doesn't, his estate will. He's dying of cancer. You interested?"
"Yeah." Aside from her cover of coming up here to look at cabins, she really was interested, though, she had not the slightest idea what she would be doing with a cabin. When she did get vacations it was usually the type to let off steam at some resort where strangers only shared the carnal side of each other, provided safe sex was practiced. It was the type of short-term relationships her job accommodated to.
Sam nodded his head.
The ride back to her rental car was bumpy, short and noisy. The detective was deep in his own thoughts -- and Adison did not offer any openings for conversation. She returned the key at the ranger station and declined the cabin. Detective Scripts stepped in and talked to the ranger in low tones.
As Adison left the detective and ranger talking, she wondered how she was going to go back without finding the detective back on her tail. Ten minutes down the winding hill the dark blue truck followed her at a respectable distance. She made sure she was just driving the speed limit. About ten minutes outside of the town markers, he finally pulled ahead of her and sped off.
“It’s about time. Damn, you’re persistent. I wish you had picked another time to show me this side of you, not that I’m personally interested,” she muttered.
Once the truck disappeared from view, she made a sharp U-turn from one of the convenient turn-offs and headed back up the mountain with the gas pedal to the floor. The little rental made a gallant effort climbing close to the speed its occupant was pushing for, knocking and gurgling from the thin air and steep terrain.
Once headed in the right direction, Adison pulled her cell phone out. By habit, the conversation scrambler was turned on. She had faith in the GPS attached to her cell that she would get a clear signal on her first try.
"Hi, Mel, Adison here….Yeah, I’m using the writer cover….Oh, Sam Bear already told you about our excitement?…One of the rangers in the office was on the list I sent you – Bob Mayhew -- he didn’t appear happy that I was heading up to that cabin. It looks like that was where the last victim was held until delivered…Yeah, just like the one before. Mayhew wasn't there when I returned the key…Right…What's the plan now?…Alright, I’ll get a job. Do you think you can come up with a better resume this time? I haven't quite recovered from the waitress thingy…Well, how about something brainy, not too, ‘cause I want to leave most of my brainwork for this job…No, Mel, but I was beginning to think those bruises on my butt from being pinched so much were permanent -- and if they had on the job description at that place that it was part of the deal, I would have gone for the dish washing position…’Sokay, I just would like a break…Thanks, I really appreciate that…What?…Yeah, I told Sam I was interested in the cabin…Yeah, I’ve stayed in a cabin before. With my aunties, the twins. I used to spend summers with them…Yeah; it is somewhat scary that I’m actually thinking of buying a place. It’s away from crowds …Yeah; it has a flush toilet and shower.” Adison chuckled at his response, “Yeah, and it’s got a real Jacuzzi. You know I wouldn’t be interested in it if it didn’t……..” She sighed loudly at his following comments on how good it was that she find one place that she call home, and then her expression became serious as the voice suddenly switched to business. Adison suspected the information Mel was waiting for was just handed to him by Emily his secretary. She listened for the next few minutes nodding to herself and making ‘uh huh’ noises where appropriate.
“Okay…Roger, that. Bye." She folded up the thin phone and slipped it inside her pocket, making sure it was buttoned in. It took one embarrassing loss of a cell phone to teach her to secure it after use.
Maybe I can be the owner of a business that wants to open up a tourist shop here. Jeeze, I hope it's not another occult shop. Those snakeheads in bottles give me the creeps…I'll just sell the cards and little charms…no animal bodies in bottles, stuck on rattles or in powered form…bad karma for the uninitiated, as my aunties used to say.
Instead of driving up the road that would take her past the Ranger Station, she took another that led behind the cabins. Her topographical map of the area showed a way to the back of the cabins near a popular hiking path. It was not marked as a beginner’s path. She intended to have a chat with Sam, her local contact. So far, she had no need to contact her backup and it was at this time with great reluctance that she was. She preferred working alone. It cut the chances of her cover being blown, or so she felt.
At the bottom of the hill, she left her vehicle parked in one of the scenic turnouts. There were a scattering of cars. Tourists were taking pictures and hikers were returning from their hikes. Adison pulled out her fanny pack and empty bottles she could attach via Velcro to her pack. As she filled the bottles from the fountain, she scanned the area for a motorcycle or anyone looking out of place. Once she had her bottles filled, she approached a hiker putting away his heavy equipment.
“Hi, there,” she greeted the young man. She sized him up for a college student.
The youth nodded to her and slammed his trunk shut.
“Hi,” he replied, taking his time to check her out.
By the aroma that clung to his clothes, Adison figured he was determining whether she was a narc.
“Is the trail up this way moderate or for the more seasoned hiker?”
“It’s easy enough. You look like you can make it up to the top in about two hours, but it would be too dark by the time you were half way down unless you got a light.”
She nodded. “How far can I get if I didn’t have a flashlight?”
“The first ridge in about an hour. Nice view of the Crest and the ocean. Best time to start is early morning just as the sun is rising. Not many people on the trail then.”
Adison looked around. “Doesn’t look like much are up there now.”
“There’s another turnout around the bend. As you’re beginning your ascent, there’s going to be a lot of people coming down.”
Adison nodded. “Is there a less crowded trail?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t take it. Some of our group got roughed up last weekend by some military-type freaks. Said we were disturbing their games.”
“You were there?”
“I wasn’t one of the ones that got roughed up. I was further up the trail. I came back when I heard one of the women blowing her whistle. I guess we got them kinda nervous when so many of us showed up with our cameras.”
“You do this every weekend?”
“Class project. Finals are in about two weeks to end the summer session, so we’re all trying to get as much done as possible.”
“Did you complain to the rangers?”
He shook his head. “The professor did. She was one of the people they roughed up. Those good ol’ boys from the south don’t seem to like dyke-types,” he grinned.
Adison lifted her eyebrows. They were from the south? “Did you see any of those characters today?”
He shook his head. “No, but we stuck to the busier paths. None of us wanted any trouble.” His smile grew wider. “It didn’t sit too well with Professor Argent. She doesn’t want us to take the busy trails.”
“Just what is this class you’re taking?”
“Wildlife photography.”
“Did you get anything?”
“Yeah, a lot of squirrels, birds, a few skunks and some deer. Say, you better get moving if you want to at least make the first ridge.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the information and warning.” Adison moved off hurriedly. He’s figured me for someone that’s too nosey. I wasn’t subtle enough.
At the first chance, Adison left the trail and hurriedly moved in the direction of the cabins. The climb was steep, and she had to dig her toes into the rich soil in some places to prevent herself from sliding back down. Part of her was worried about the signs requesting visitors to stick to the trails and not create new ones, thus destroying parts of the forest that could be habitat for wildlife. Before she reached the top, she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. She was not well acclimated to the thin air and needed to watch her liquid intake as well as take rests. She leaned against the trunk of a pine tree enjoying the feel of the bark at her back and the noise of the forest around her. Without closing her eyes, she focused on the sounds of the wind roaring through the treetops, and the sounds of the squirrels shrilling and chattering as they chased or scolded each other. It brought to mind memories of her childhood vacations with her aunties. She smiled to herself as she remembered her elder aunts. Though they were twins and psychic, only one had used it for anything beyond amusing visitors. Adison sighed, missing their presence and her entertaining if not enlightening vacations.
A partial conversation drifted her way cutting off her reverie. Adison awkwardly dropped to her stomach on the steep slope. It was difficult to hide since she could easily start sliding back down if she did not have a tree to grip and there was not much foliage around the trunk to cover her.
She waited, listening to the voices fade in and out. They appeared to be moving away from her. Carefully she removed her fanny pack and rolled onto her back to study the direction she thought the voices were coming from. Rolling back on her stomach, she crawled upward on her elbows and knees.
I’ve got enough pine needles and dirt in my clothes to start my own garden.
Disgustedly she paused to pull one particularly annoying pine needle out of her waistband. Finally reaching the top of the slope, she peered down at the cabins. Pulling out her small binoculars, she studied her surroundings and looked for anyone watching her, before shifting her sights to the cabins below. She could see the open front door to the cabin she visited earlier. Three men were removing things. A sound from behind her had her rolling and bringing her leg up to kick.
“Damn, you scared me nearly to death!” she whispered dropping her leg and catching herself as she started to roll down the slope.
“You should be more careful,” Sam told her quietly as he released his hold on her arm to steady her. He nodded to the men below. “They started to clear the place out right after you two left. I’ve been watching them, but have had to move around. They have spotters around here.”
“Those voices I heard?”
He nodded. “The Jaded Amulet, the local group. They’ve been removing evidence.” He tugged at her arm. “It’s too busy here to talk.”
Adison nodded. Sam led her back to her vehicle. While Adison drove Sam back to his cabin, or as far as her vehicle could go, they compared notes. Sam knew more than what Adison thought a passive observer should know.
“Are you going to be alright up here?”
“Yeah. I’ll have no problems with them. They think I’m too old and antisocial to be a threat.”
“Did you get a chance to look the place over before the evidence was destroyed?”
“Yep. Your quarry was staying there for a few days. She was sick. I found one needle in a corner behind the trashcan. Sent it on up to your headman, Mel. Looks like the same MO as the other women. I think this one got sick from the drug they use to keep them out.”
Adison nodded. “The chemist said Ketamine is the main ingredient. In order to keep anyone controlled for days at a time blood samples would have to be taken to prevent side effects, like getting rather ill…I think the person that was watching over her either did not have training in managing someone on the drug or did not have the medical kit.”
Sam nodded not offering any input at this point.
“From the conversation I overheard last night, the usual person that handles the women was out.” Adison peered over at Sam. “They’ve been real careful in the past. Too many clues left behind this time. From what I can put together, the main man, Mike Learner, was out due to a near fatal stabbing. One of the grunts, Danny Brucker, picked up the package and not knowing the details, created his own delivery route, and even if he didn’t know where to deliver her, he knew who he was delivering to and where to find that person. This grunt is no slouch. He knew not to use a cell phone, kept a low profile, and brought a delivery that could have gone bust, to a successful end. If I had not been following my target, I would not have known he was delivering a woman. But…he’s not well liked so his success is being called a failure.”
Sam nodded. “Mike Learner usually handles the business in this area. His experience in law enforcement gives him inside knowledge and he uses it well. He works for the Sunrise PD.”
“Like Danny Brucker…just how legit is the local PD?”
“The only two not to trust are Danny and Mike, though now and then they will surprise you by doing something real nice…provided they don’t have each other as witnesses.”
“Oh, gawds. Not some macho rivalry between them, is there?”
“Very. When Chief Harper came on board he removed most of the old guard with proficiency tests and background checks. How those two managed to pass the tests is a mystery because their previous records gave no indication they had it in ‘em. Obviously, they were saving it up. Their major problem is their attitude. They have a real hard ass issue with women in uniform.” Sam shook his head and chuckled to himself. “I think they just need a spanking by a real big butch, man or woman, all dressed up in dark leather and knee high boots…their worst nightmare.”
Alex’s eyes opened wide in surprise and she laughed. I think he’s been up here alone far too long. “Is that the locker room gossip, Sam? I’ll be careful not to wear leather or black. You said one of the guys came back looking for something? Someone you didn’t think belonged to either group?”
“He was dressed in full camo gear, just right for this mountain environment, including face covering. Whatever he was looking for, it was important. He avoided being spotted by you or the local group. And, he wasn’t part of the group that took the women. Dresses different and has a different feel to him than the others. The second time that he came up, he was with someone. I spotted the motorcycle hidden behind one of the vacant cabins.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Were they here before you had a chance to check out the cabin or after?
“After.”
Adison was silent for a while. “You know, I ran across an unknown player last night in the warehouse. I wasn’t able to get a good view of the person, but I pegged it as a woman. She wasn’t there for the beginning of the meeting. Probably slipped in while everyone’s attention was on the office.”
“This person had all the characteristics of a male. I didn’t get a look at his passenger though. So, you had a big audience last night?”
“Not counting myself, there was the detective, and two incredibly clumsy guys that could have attended the militia gathering afterwards. I’m going to make a guess that these guys are built heavier than most people that like to sneak through windows. Which is odd that they would have been chosen for this job…unless its part of some kind of initiation into a club.” Adison was thinking out loud. She was finding it difficult to fit the two men from last night into any group that did surveillance. They were too inexperienced….except, they did avoid the surveillance monitors and they did find a very good place to listen to the conversation inside the office. She sighed and shook her head. Whose side were they on?
“Mark said the same.” He grinned. “He thinks they are part of the group that delivered the money. New recruits proving themselves. Just like you guessed. He couldn’t peg you though.”
“He saw me?” She was surprised and disappointed in her skills. They were obviously slipping.
“No. He said he felt someone was already there but wasn’t able to figure out who or where, so he used his backup plan when it was time for him to leave.”
“Shutting off the main power so there was a slight delay before the backup system kicked in.”
Sam nodded. “But, he didn’t say anything about the person you said was in there. That person could have arrived as Mark was leaving. You had all your attention on him. So, looks like you have two or three unknown players here.”
“About the detective…it’s a bit unusual that a small town cop knows so much about the spy business.”
“Ex-Seal. He’s one of the good guys and so is his boss, Chief Harper. Harper used to head the Bureau in Cincinnati. That’s where he met Mark. They know only about the local players. They’re still trying to piece things together.”
And you’re not volunteering any information and nor is the FBI. He should still have some friends there.
Mel had told her that Sam Bear was a retired operative for the CIA and did favors for law enforcement in exchange for them alerting him if they had something going on in his area. She was to treat him as part of her team if she should need him. Sam may have retired but he was keeping his finger on the pulse of things in his neck of the woods. Adison guessed he had enemies he liked to keep track of.
“According to last night’s conversation, the Boss intends on setting up a base camp here, and Mr. Detective heard that. So, I would say, Chief Harper and Detective Scripts will have their hands full.”
Sam nodded. “I heard you’re staying a while.”
Adison stifled the sigh. “Yeah. Hopefully this doesn’t take too long to where it feels like I’m setting down roots.”
“That’s not good?”
“I like to keep moving.”
“Still interested in the cabin?”
Adison smiled, “Well, it will make Mel happy. He thinks if his agents have a permanent address somewhere it will make them more stable.” Adison glanced toward Sam and for a few moments had a disconcerting feeling he understood more than she intended to reveal. Silently she let loose some profanities.
Why when I end up having a partner, does it end up he or she likes to read between the lines?
At the beginning of the rough road to the cabins, Adison dropped Sam off.
“Try Katie’s Rentals. She operates out of her house so if you’re not too late, like after nine pm., she’ll help you out today. Tell her I sent you,” he advised. Sam noticed Adison’s hesitation. He added, “She’s honest, discreet, doesn’t ask unnecessary questions, and doesn’t have ties with anyone law enforcement is interested in. She’s use to me sending people to her.”
Adison nodded. “Alright.” Just whom all are you sending to her?
****
Katie was a vivacious grandmother of one highly active five year-old, Matt, who had flung open the door at her first knock with so much power, it had bounced against the door jam and would have knocked the lad down if Katie had not grabbed the door. The sign near her door gave her business hours of eight to eight, Monday through Saturday, though in conversation Katie told her if she needed anything to just knock on the door; someone was always home and knew just where to reach her.
After Alice, Matt’s mother, carried him away screaming that he did not want to take a bath, Katie chatted for about fifteen minutes with Alex asking her questions on just what she was looking for and then printed out a list of about a dozen potentials and keys to five. The apartments without keys she would have to wait until Monday to ask the owners to show her around. Her Sunday itinerary jingled in her hand.
JA Bard
Chapter 1
A figure crouched at the corner of a building, blending in with the inky blackness that shrouded most of the warehouse district. The soft glow of light above each warehouse doorway shed no illumination on the ground, reaching only to the doorknobs to the service doors, emphasizing the darkness beyond the pale light.
A night guard, shinning his lamp along the uneven ground, heard and saw nothing outside of his own self-made world. Sounds of a tuneless voice crooning to a song bleeding through earphones drowned out the crunching of his feet on the gritty asphalt and noises from creatures in the nearby marsh.
Eyes hidden behind night vision goggles watched until the guard had treaded on to the next set of buildings before moving back behind the warehouse.
The sounds of the blown sand against the backsides of the buildings covered any slight noise made from the unlatching of the small window. After making short work to disengage the alarm, the veiled figure clambered into the shadowless room. Landing in a crouched position on the concrete floor, the figure paused to readjust the NV goggles and then a moment more for the altered flat two-dimensional fluorescent green world to change as the infrared viewing was switched on. The veiled head moved slowly, scanning the area for any hot objects, and then switched the IR off to use a TD-53 radio frequency transmitter detector to scan for any bugs.
They haven’t changed the pattern.
Warily, the figure sniffed the air in the warehouse. Smells from the stacked goods and stale odors from sweaty laborers mixed with the distinct scent of the marsh and ocean air that was blowing in from the opened window. There was no sound from the air conditioner that had been running throughout the day to keep the heat at bay. Not sensing anything that posed a threat, the figure’s attention moved back to the window to close it and reengage the alarm should anyone happen by that have a reason to check.
The faint whirling noise from the long thin stealth rope as it snaked out and wrapped around a steel ceiling crossbeam, joined the normal sounds of the warehouse. After testing the rope, the figure ably scaled onto the beam. Once comfortably seated, the interior of the warehouse was carefully scanned. Confident the equipment monitoring the ceiling was disabled the figure moved above the office, where another stealth rope snaked down. The dark figure efficiently slid down, stopping just above the office window. Carefully, a pinhole video camera was installed just above the warehouse surveillance equipment. Having completed that job, the figure moved back up the rope.
Not wanting to rely on one exit, the figure’s next job was to secure a second exit located in the roof. The rusted hinges on the ceiling window required attention, and it had to be done without the distinctive odor of WD40.
Finished with that chore, the interloper pulled back a black strap that covered a wristwatch.
Good. I still have enough time to look around and get out before anyone arrives.
The figure dropped to the warehouse floor, leaving the rope dangling; perhaps over-confident the rope would not be seen even if the lights were turned on, or perhaps not willing to get rid of a backup exit. With bug detector in a gloved hand the figure moved around the pallets and bulky stacks of goods, using them to hide from any monitoring devices the detector registered. Just inside of the double doors for delivery, a stack of empty pallets gave the figure pause.
What a damn inconvenient place to stack pallets.
The veiled head turned carefully around looking for any monitoring devices. Satisfied the area was clear, the figure curiously walked around the pallets. A pale object was inside the stack. The figure leaned in closer to find a folded envelope pinned between the concrete floor and stacked pallets. A gloved hand moved cautiously through a small opening between the pallets and pulled gently at the discovery. It held firmly in place.
I'll have to cut it loose.
With a razor sharp knife, the envelope was cut away, placed into a plastic bag and tucked into one of the vest’s pouches. Another plastic bag came out, and with the knife blade, the dark surface was scraped. The curled black substance ended up on a swab, placed in the plastic bag and added to the pouch that contained the envelope.
Probably oil or some other junk spilled, but it won't hurt to check it out.
Lights flashed through the front door window, lighting up the interior as far in as the stairs to the office. The employees and delivery drivers used this smaller door. From the sounds, more than one vehicle arrived at the building. Two angry voices started arguing, followed by two doors slamming shut.
The insertion of a key in the lock had the figure inside scanning for a place to hide.
They're early! Adison, you better get the hell out of sight!
The sound of a click and the sudden blinding light sent Adison dropping flat to the cement ground.
“Shut the fuckin’ lights off ya fuckin' fool!” cursed a voice Adison had come to loath in the last three weeks.
Doesn’t he ever stop?
The interior went black again.
“What the hell are we going to do, wait for them in the dark?” a sarcastic voice demanded. “’Cause then I’m gonna have ta go home and get my night goggles.”
“Turn the fuckin' lights on in the office where it can't be seen by Gary in case he cruises by.”
"He’s going to see the damn cars!" the other voice retorted. "And what difference does it make? I own this place. It’s not like I don’t work late on occasion. You’re acting like we’re doing something illegal here!"
Jeeze, will ya two just get a move on up to the office! This floor is covered in crud and I do mind lying on it.
The clanging sounds of the heavy footsteps on the metal stairway muted in the packed warehouse. The office hung above the warehouse floor, with the machinery, lockers, and break area for the workers tucked underneath it.
A light came on and the door slammed shut, rattling everything attached from the windows down to the metal stairway. Light spilled out from the office windows pushing some of the darkness back to the tops of supplies piled as high as the windows.
Quickly, Adison was up and moving soundlessly into the shadows, confident there were no traps or security beams along the way.
I got to get outta here before the meeting takes place, or I won’t be able to trail the other guys. For a place that's suppose to be the local wanna be gangsta's meetin' place, it's been too frickin’ easy to get in. It’s bad for my nerves.
Click!
Oh, beans!
Moving quickly sideways behind a stack of marked boxes, Adison nailed a dark clad calf muscle on a sharp corner. Collapsing onto the floor, a hissing sound escaped from parted lips as the burning pain crept up and down the injured leg.
The gawds be damned!
On padded elbows, Adison hurriedly dragged and rolled until safely hidden behind some crates. While rubbing the injured leg and hoping not to have made too much noise, Adison's ears strained to hear any further noise from the direction of the window. Blinking away tears of pain, Adison leaned closer to the stacked goods so body heat would not be picked up. A cold breeze leaden with salt spray brought the distinct smell of someone that was not in the warehouse earlier. The strain to hear anything other than the arguing voices in the office was finally rewarded with another click. Through the stacked pallets, the goggles picked up a glow moving away from the window.
It’s gonna be the nosebleed seats.
Awkwardly, Adison rose and limped to the dangling rope. Five minutes later Adison stretched flat on one of the steel ceiling beams looking down at the office. Eyes behind the goggles opened wide at the sight of a soft glow of body heat, suspended outside of the office wall. After about five more minutes, the glow dropped down and moved away, disappearing behind florescent green shapes of machinery.
So, who is he, the Fly? I wonder whose side he’s on.
The ebb and flow of sound from the angry voices in the office nearly covered the now familiar sound of someone opening a window. Adison studied the newcomers as two more visitors struggled to fit through the small window that was already more popular than the much larger and convenient opening commonly referred to as a ‘front door’.
What is this, Friday night live for Peeping Toms or finals for an Internet detective’s certificate?
The front door to the warehouse opened and three bluish-white figures moved up the stairs into the office as if they were familiar with the route.
Ah, from sideshows to the main attraction. Everyone seems to know the show was going to start early but me. They must have forgotten to send me a change of plans.
Adison’s gloved hand pressed the earpiece more firmly into place annoyed that with the added watchers there was more of a chance that something would go awry.
"Well, it's about time," the oh-so familiar sarcastic voice greeted the newcomers.
"Y’all got somewhere else ya need to be, don’t let me keep ya," a deep southern voice drawled. The voice sent chills skittering down Adison’s spine. It was also a sharp contrast to the fast speech of the man Adison had labeled ‘AM’ or acerbic mouth. Hopefully most of the business would not be done talking or the tape may run out.
"Just hand over the fuckin' money. You keep changing the fuckin' time and place like you don't trust us," the irritating voice continued.
"Trust…now that is somethin' interstin' coming from y’all," the voice drawled slowly. "Bo."
Something heavy dropped on a table. A zipper was pulled, and then what sounded like someone fanning money followed by thumps from packets being dropped on the table surface came though the small earpiece.
"It's not all here," the second voice reported calmly.
"The last delivery was damaged goods. Too damaged, ah might add, to administer the drugs she should have been on to keep her manageable. Let me remind y’all,” the voice paused, “this here’s a business…and she is our investment. Our buyers are guaranteed that their purchases are healthy and manageable upon delivery."
"Don't give me that fuckin' crap! You owe us the full price!" the voice argued, as if intentionally provoking their Southern business associate.
There was a rustling sound, the sharp intake of a breath and grunts.
"Getyer ‘ands oftme, ya motherfunckinsonofabitch," a voice gurgled.
"Ah do think we need ta get a clear understandin' here. Simply put…ya don't damage our merchandise without some repercussion. Do ah make mahself clear?"
There was a pause. Adison wondered if any of the unseen watchers would reveal himself to rescue the most obnoxious of the group.
"Bo, go ahead and release that unwise young man before he has himself a heart attack.”
The sound of scrambling and furniture moving around was heard.
“There was no fuckin’ problem!” the strained but unrepentant voice struggled to get out.
“The problem was that the agreed upon plan was not followed, nor was the appointed man keeping us abreast of any changes.”
"Where the hell do you get off tellin’ us how to run our fuckin' business? You got your fuckin' merchandise. No one can trace the fuckin' disappearance to you, and no one can trace the fuckin' disappearance to us. Mike being out is not your fuckin' business.” The voice had now fully recovered and was escalating to an unretractable position.
"Ah understand the knifin' occurred two days a’fore the operation officially started,” the soft voice drawled, a counter point to the louder and faster speech of the volatile participant. “It should have been incumbent upon y’all to have notified me so ah could have mah own boys here ta have made sure the plan was executed the way it was agreed upon…instead of cleanin' up after y’all in removin' evidence and potential witnesses."
The soft voice may be a counter tempo but the words were like dry wood thrown on a hungry fire, and predictably, it further provoked the other man.
“You sonofabitch! There was no mess or evidence you had to take care of! You’re just using that as an excuse not to fuckin’ pay us the full price!"
“Ah won’t argue with y’all. Ah, will simply state the facts…y’all delivered late, at a different site, in daylight ah might add, our property was sick and bruised. Our buyer doesn’t buy merchandise in poor condition. Bo, our time here has come to an end.”
It was an abrupt end, with the men leaving immediately. The southern business associate apparently knew how hard to push, and when to leave. It indicated to Adison that they had met enough times for this familiarity to be developed.
The outer door to the warehouse closed. An engine started and moved away.
Something slammed onto a table with enough force that made Adison cringe from the amplified sound.
"Two days before this was going down, and you didn't tell me that Mike was out!?” a voice exploded. "Couyon! If Mike is out, the leadership falls to me! You told me everything was all right and Mike got hurt afterwards! Where do you get off running your own game?"
"Everything was fuckin’ well under control!"
"Control is following the plan unless an unforeseen event occurs. You were to call for new instructions if you could not follow the original plan. Everyone in this organization works together and has no problem following those instructions – except you!”
"I adapted to the situation! It’s not like I was given a list of phone numbers to call in case I stubbed my toe! They’re just using that as an excuse to not pay us the full amount!”
“You stupid dickhead!" The tone sounded incredulous. "Listen to what I’m telling you! The merchandise belongs to that guy, our customer that you just pissed off! Bobby doesn’t like mess-ups! You were the hired help, the drone, the buck private, the peon, you asshole…nothing more! You had one phone number. My cell. That was all you needed. As of now, you are out of this operation!”
"Well cell phones don’t work so good in the some places. And that isn’t the problem here. You didn’t speak up when that dickhead shorted us! What kind of leader is that? You have no fuckin’ backbone! You didn’t even ask for any goddamn proof of what he’s saying. You took him at face value instead of believing and askin’ the one person who was there! That’s not -- "
"Proof?” the voice interrupted. “Let me list a few of them, Danny. You like to beat up on defenseless women, he reported the package was damaged; you didn’t tell anyone that Mike was out, you were supposed to be working with him; and lies, Danny? Should I waste both our time and list lies you’ve been caught in? If you left anything that would lead the Feds here, kiss life as you know it goodbye.”
"They are thieves…and liars! That’s how they make their money! How the hell do you think Bobby got to be second? He’s stealing right out from under your nose! I can’t believe you let the motherfucker go without askin’ to see the proof…and I can’t believe the Boss would have either! The buyer picked her up and on time! And I’m not some fuckin’ amateur!” There was a pause as if Danny was trying calm himself down.
“The Feds won’t find any trace of the bitch,” he continued in a calmer and confident tone. “With the recent rains, there’s no evidence left around the fuckin' Crest cabin. Nothing’s gonna happen. Just close the fuckin' safe and let's get the fuck outta here before the night guard gets back from his lunch break. Shit, I gotta do the weekend shift because asshole Mark took the weekend off and I got stuck with patrol duty. Damn prick. I'm gonna miss the fuckin' games tonight! If they hadn’t changed the damn meeting ta tanight, I wouldn’t have missed ‘em at all.”
There was a long utterance of words Adison did not recognize but guessed were obscenities and whatever went with them, such as hand gestures. Amos Anders, the owner of the warehouse, used his hands a lot with his conversations.
Crest cabins? Where have I heard of them before?
"You hid her up in the Crest cabins?” the voice finally got out clearly. “You are possede! Cofaire? That will be the first place the law will look! Does Bob-bo know this? If Mark looks into this woman's disappearance...” Amos did not finish, instead continued on another troublesome thought. “It’s bad enough that those Southern idiots chose to kidnap another FBI protected witness, but it’s worse that they did it in our back yard…again…and so soon after the other two! Then you deliver her late at a different drop point in full daylight…damaged! A cunja has been put on this operation! It is one big fuckup!" A safe door slammed shut and then another. "You know goddamn well if Mark sticks his nose in this he's worse than a hound dog on a scent."
"Hell, Harper's Pet? Mr. Shinny Badge Cop? He makes me sick with his damn by the book attitude. He's not going to find a fuckin' thing and if he even gets close. I’ll take care of it."
“You’ll do no goddamthing! Didn’t I just say you’re out?! Anything happens to him and you’re contract meat! You dumb sonofabitch! We don’t knock off the local police! Chief Harper is worse than Mark! Then we have to worry about Judge Parker. Jeeesuuuus. That’s all we need is to have the Feds and every other law enforcement group here. You’re not to do a goddamthing. Do you hear me?”
"You know, you worry about the little things. He's a nobody in a small town. And you’re pathetic, sweatin’ nothin’," Danny continued. “If it gets too hot in one town, move to another. You stay mobile and flexible.”
"You know, Danny, that’s real sad that you aren’t worried or scared because being part of the family doesn’t mean mistakes are overlooked…by any of the groups involved."
Adison was impressed with Amos’ change of attack. Danny was right on all accounts if this was a state-wide run gang…and it was. As a leader Amos did make crucial mistakes…which led to the next question…why did he let the other group get away with not paying without proof? And since the payment was supposed to have included late payments for other deliveries…why was this group still doing business with them? She did not know of any crime business that did not pay up front for services completed.
So, it must have been a contract for the delivery of a number of people with the final person the payoff. This is the longest delay I know of. Must have been their last victim. She was not exactly a sitting duck.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Suddenly the belligerent voice had a wary tone to it. "What family …?"
Oooh. So, there is something that slows him down. Family laundry. I gotta research this angle, and why it’s so important to keep business in this small town?
"Porno flicks have better actin’ then what you and that Southern Belle Boy just put on. If anyone else had messed with their merchandise, he would have been dead meat. No questions asked. No apologies. No conversation. Quick. Easy. And very efficient. Consequences, remember he mentioned that? You just got a warning, a mere slap on the wrist at best. We all know that’s a family run organization. It’s a no brainer, Danny.”
“You’re full of shit! They don't scare me either." The retort had less volume to it.
“I'm sure they don't. This is a small town Danny…in case you haven't noticed by now. However, it doesn’t mean we’re dumb. Keeping secrets is rather difficult…like your trips to the City for rough sex and meetings with someone in that bar. I’ll say this again…if anything happens to Detective Scripts …no questions asked…you are dead meat.”
"You're fuckin’ crazy, man! You’re nothing but a spineless idiot. You’re the one responsible for us not getting all the fuckin’ money! You let him tell you our business! You’re the screw-up. The Boss is gonna wantta know how we got shorted and I’ll tell him you let Bobby bullshit you out of the money."
A short laugh. "Yeah, right. You and the Boss," the voice snickered. “Get the fuck outta here, Danny.”
There were a few moments when there was absolute silence, and then it was followed by stomping feet. The sound of a doorknob being grabbed violently was heard without the aid of the microphone. The office door slammed shut and then after the noisy decent from the metal stairs another door banged shut with enough violence that left everyone’s teeth rattling. An engine roared to life outside and tires skidded on the sandy surface before gripping.
Adison could hear some faint tapping.
"This is Amos…yeah, they delivered, but short…Chill out. I just blacklisted the cause of the short, Danny. Pass it around to the others to do nothing until we get word…No, nothing…BJ said he’s determined to be back with us in about a week….No, there’s no chance that he would pass medical to return to his cop duties for at least two months. He can get business done on this end until then. Has James found anything yet?…Well, stick some more people on it. I’m beginning to smell a dead rat here…No, from what the Southern Dickhead said the Boss already knew about the short and the screw-up…No, I don’t know why we’re the last to know -- unless it was something just arranged and he didn’t have a chance to tell us. In my next chat with the Boss, I want to know what is preventing us from sending Danny home in a body bag. I’ve had it with him. Damn idiot threatened to take out Detective Scripts if it looks like he’s onto us… I know…I know! Yeah…right…I don’t know, but when the Boss says this is gonna be homebase, it’s gonna be hell-or-high water. You know how he plans way in advance. For all I know he’s using a crystal ball….Yeah, yeah. On my grandmother’s grave. Night."
The phone receiver dropped loudly into its cradle.
Ouch! Have a heart for us eve’s droppers.
"Saleau, saloppe," the voice muttered softly but angrily as something else was slammed. “I have a couyon to babysit.”
The lights went out and a few moments later, the front door was firmly closed and locked. Adison peered down on the floor spotting the two glows as they detached from behind some boxes next to the office and moved in an erratic pattern, matching where the monitoring devices were not covering, and back to the window that had become a window of opportunity. Not very quietly the two figures clambered out of the window. The window shut with an audible bang, followed by faint cursing. Patiently, Adison waited for the other visitor to leave, who instead, landed quietly on the stair platform and disappeared into the office.
Now what are you up to, Mr. Fly? I know you know about the cameras…so what kind of statement are you making here?
The earpiece picked up little movement. After about ten minutes, the sound of the safe door clicking shut signaled whatever business he had in the safe was finished.
Now what did he do? Mark the bills, or count them? If he marked them, that would mean he’s with a law enforcement group. But Mel didn’t mention any Feds in the area. This is getting more interesting all the time.
The dark figure moved out of the office using the front door instead of the window to exit. The light above the door on the outside of the building was out, so without NV goggles, not even a silhouette of his figure would be seen.
Now how did he know the light was out? Well, I gotta grab my stuff before I leave.
Adison glanced at the device in a gloved hand.
What on earth? What happened to the…now they are. How did he know the equipment went offline? Did he unplug the power? No, they would have a backup generator…unless…damn, but he is good. He either knew there was going to be a time delay or he planned it. Well, well, well. Mr. Fly…you are good.
Adison dangled above the office where the camera had been inserted, pausing a moment when hearing a sound. The veiled head turned, surveying the area slowly.
Nothing.
Okay, Adison, now is not the time to be hearing things.
Adison carefully put the small camera back into a vest pocket, secured it and climbed back up the rope. Unattached it, stored it across chest and back and made for the other rope. Adison hung on the rope for a moment, wondering if maybe escaping through the ceiling exit would be a better choice. A faint whirling noise from the right had Adison twisting to see what it was. The goggles showed the overhead warehouse crane was approaching quickly and almost silently on well-greased wheels. Adison’s grip on the rope was released, however the big, bulky and heavy machine clipped a shoulder, sending the dark clad body sideways and crashing into a stack of goods. The overhead crane kept moving on its track into a darker corner. Adison bounced a few inches off the plastic wrapped toilet paper boxes, and then dropped straight down onto the hard concrete.
Ooffff! Thank the gawds it wasn’t a stack of cans.
Adison's knees were as wobbly as a newborn colt, with wits not being in any better shape. It did not help that the NV goggles were dangling at an unusable angle, giving no reference point in the blackened room. For a brief panicky moment, Adison blindly stumbled and bumped into containers, until discipline won over and was finally able to regroup and listen. Loud heartbeats almost covered the crackling sounds from plastic. With both hands the visor was tightened and readjusted, as was the sniper veil and clothing.
Nope, that noise isn't from me and by the sounds of it, this person doesn’t mind being heard…or seen. How come I’m the only one worrying about the damn monitors?
Adison's head tilted upward to scan the tops of the stacks nearby.
Uh, oh.
When the noise was above Adison’s head, Adison reached a gloved hand up and pulled the other dark figure down. Hands grappled and then Adison shoved a shoulder into the midsection of the other, forcing the air out of the stranger, who slid to the ground limply. Darting behind another stack, twisting and stumbling along, Adison finally crept under a tarp of goods. Wiggling between and under boxes, hoping to cut off any body heat readings, Adison tried to breathe quietly and normally.
Who was that? How much she see? Did she get here before me? No…I've been here a while and if she came before me that shoulder I gave her to her bladder would have emptied it. It was a good solid blow. So, she must have entered sometime during the meeting when we all were distracted and from an entrance I wasn't watching. And what is it about that person that I feel is a she? Body size. Big, but agile to be moving across the stacks, wasn’t wearing Kevlar…maybe a spy for the Jaded Amulet? Why so many visitors?
The game of cat and mouse would have continued if the loud slamming of car doors and deep voices from outside of the warehouse had not interrupted the play. The one squeak that had not been eliminated from the ceiling exit sounded loud to Adison’s adrenaline-hyped senses.
Hey, that’s my exit!
Adison hesitated in following, but the arrival of the local militia ruled out that window. Cautiously Adison walked between the stacks, halting when her foot kicked something.
This is where I winded her.
Quickly the object was picked up and stuffed in a pocket. Adison was in a hurry to leave. Retracing steps to the rope, Adison hissed a short curse at finding the rope missing.
And she removed my rope to boot!
Touching the knob on the NV viewer, a closer picture of the missing rope could be seen. It was curled up on the beam with part of it looped down for anyone in the daylight to see.
She is trying to ruin my night.
Once safely back outside, Adison scaled the neighboring building to look over the area and see where everyone was gathering. The wind buffeted against Adison's dark clad figure as Kevlar gloved fingers clung onto the roof hoping not to be spotted, though thinking it was more than likely since no self-respecting militia member would come to a night party without his NV goggles, especially since it was held without lights.
At the edge of the woods, people milled around.
So, are they waiting for someone to start the games or just giving the other team a chance to get set?
One of the figures stood up and began to move into the marsh with the others peeling off and following. Meanwhile, another figure moved from the side of the warehouse where she had just exited and followed the group.
All right. The games have begun. Time for me to get out of here.
Sliding down the side of the building, Adison gathered the hidden recorder and tucked it into a stashed backpack, along with the coils of rope. The beam of a brilliant white light cut through the darkness, as it jerkily moved over parts of the buildings.
What is that?
Pressing against the peeled and cracked exterior of the warehouse wall, Adison peered around the corner. A black-n-white cruiser with a dog hanging out of the window approached slowly. The dog started barking and growling as the bright light from the handheld spotlight swept across the area, revealing in its white light, the various SUVs, trucks and one or two plain vehicles, parked around two of the warehouses. The vehicle moved off into the night with its taillights going from a point of brightness to nothing.
At the sound of movement in the area, Adison took refuge behind a trash bin.
The intake of breath from behind Adison sent the dark figure instinctively to one knee, as the rifle butt aimed for the head, crashed into the full bin. The camo dressed assailant was taken by surprise. Adison elbowed the assailant; however his chest was padded with Kevlar. Adison, stepped back to find another point of attack. The assailant recovered quickly, bringing down the rifle butt on Adison's shoulder, but Adison anticipated the move and was already moving in a counter motion. The assailant was off-balance and Adison spinning around to gather power, kicked the assailant's solar plexus with enough force to power past the weak defense of an awkwardly lifted leg. The assailant was sent backward into the trash bin, breaking the night’s silence with a crash and a flood of curses. With one hand, Adison scooped up the dropped rifle, and with the other resecured NV goggles. Moving at an uneven gait between two buildings, Adison hobbled out of sight of the downed militia member.
I sure as hell hope they just think I’m one of the boys out to give them a run for their money. A grin creased the face beneath the mask. Nothing like stirring up these boys with a bit of unplanned excitement.
Adison quickly moved in the direction where all the other hot spots were, cutting across the open area hoping it was not going to be open season with buckshot. The pain in Adison's leg was almost crippling. Once behind the trees that marked the beginning of the marsh, Adison slowed down. Moving through the tall grasses and breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush, Adison removed the ammunition from the chamber of the stolen rifle. The dark veiled head moved back and forth, up and down, looking for specific hot objects nearby. Pausing for the length of time it took to shove the rifle barrel deep into the soft mud, Adison moved further into the grasses.
A voice from the right had Adison dropping in the mud, hoping the marsh grasses would be enough cover. Something that did not smell like it was part of the natural decomposing marsh life settled like a heavy blanket around Adison.
A corpse, ugh! Can't mistake that smell. Great! What the hell did someone dump here? Like, do I really want to know?
A deep male voice from over a handheld communicator easily carried in the night. The voice was cursing the find of the mud-encrusted rifle and attributing it to the other team.
You are sooo lucky, Adison. Let them stumble on the stinkin’ body or bodies. But, hell, I can't return to my room smelling like I've rolled around on something dead.
Adison sniffed the wind that hinted of something fresher. The smell of the salty ocean foam gusted by.
That's right, the ocean is near. Maybe a walk in the ocean can get rid of some of this smell.
Reversing direction, Adison headed toward the rocky beach, stopping long enough behind a dune to pull out a dark elastic band to wrap the injured leg. It took forty five minutes to get to the beach.
****
The predawn sky went from a shining canopy of sparking stars against the black background, to a graying sky above and a brilliant swash of oranges, reds and purple along the tree tops in the west. Adison had napped on the beach until dawn not wanting to arouse curiosity if she were noticed. Dark clothing and tools were carefully hidden on the beach to be picked up later. The equipment would be rather hard to explain if found on any law-abiding citizen, though Adison had taken pains not to have gear that only law enforcement was authorized to carry. Her dark attire was exchanged for a long sleeved green sweatshirt that deepened the green color of her eyes. The matching sweatpants hid the calf muscle comfortably wrapped with an ace bandage. From her backpack she pulled out flat soled canvas shoes, devoid of marsh mud and dry, exchanging them with the pair she had rinsed in the ocean. Studying herself in a small mirror, she wiped a dirt smudge off her chin, brushed her shoulder length blond hair behind her ears, and tied it into a ponytail. She tucked the mirror back into the side pocket of her pack. The one hour walk back into town allowed her to work in some warmth to her cold limbs and work out the soreness in her leg.
Battered, bruised and weary, Adison climbed the steps to Crimson Rose Bed n' Breakfast, halting when a voice hailed her from the street. As she turned, she brushed a stray blond strand of hair out of her face. A tall dark haired man, dressed as a jogger, even down to the neon shoes, was standing outside the bed and breakfast's gate with a young gawky Irish wolfhound prancing around his legs.
The dog’s tongue lolled over the side of a long jaw lined with sharp teeth, looking as if she had been running hard.
"Ma’am, out a bit early."
Well, he seems harmless enough. Nice boyish smile. Why do I get this feeling he’s not all that innocent?
"On the east coast, this isn’t that early. Are early morning walks discouraged?" She hoped her smile was innocent looking.
The man shook his head still smiling. "No, Ma’am, just unusual. Most people like to sleep in on their vacations."
"Ah. Well, I do this out of self-preservation. I like to eat good food and this place certainly has some tempting breakfast selections." I’ll say. One of the nicest places I’ve stayed in for a while.
"Yeah. They have a good chef. If you get a chance, try Mollie’s Creations. Have a nice day."
"You too and thanks for the tip." Well, I haven’t met too many small town cops …but he sure sounds like one.
Amused at the thought, she watched as the dog pressed her long nose against his open palm. The tall stranger then moved his hand forward, with the lanky dog springing ahead into a loping canter, and her tall master following in a long legged lope of his own.
Well, well. The way he moves is familiar. Looks like someone from last night. So…whose side is he on?
Back in her room, she stood before the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, looking for anything that could have led him to pick her out. The only thing that stuck out was her canvas shoes. They were cheap flat shoes. Not enough arch or heel support for even a walker. They were from another wardrobe, another face.
I should have looked for some more appropriate shoes to stash in my knapsack. Well, too late to do anything about that. At this point, I'll worry about damage control if I get caught with a smoking gun. Well, let me see what was in the envelope.
Pulling on surgical gloves, Adison removed the envelope from her pocket and pulled out the sheet within it. Unfolding the paper and holding it up to the light, she looked for anything worth noting. She picked off some lint and a few hairs, and put them in another plastic bag.
Hm. Someone's been folding and unfolding this a lot. Not kept in a wallet by the wear on the paper fibers. And…here is some more lint. Let’s store that in another plastic bag. Okay, someone's list of…names…and asterisks, check marks, skull n' crossbones, and widgets next to the names. Damn. I cut the center of this page …doesn’t look like anything was written on it, though. What the hell do these symbols mean?
Johnny Redfield *
Bob Mayhew b
John Hudson *
Henry James b
Marvin Larimey b
Gene Blackmond
George Matthews *
Mike Housten b
Thomas Meadows *
Jinks Wilde *
Al Brentwith *
Bill Prost b
BJ Headers *
Sam Henry Adams b
Carl Gates *
Richard Mack *
Ed Carson b
Okay, let's start with the names I know. Mike Learner, Amos Anders, and John Hudson, sometimes called John H. Alright, Learner and Anders have the same mark so it could mean they’re the supervisors. Hmm. No Andy on the list and he’s third in command. John H is a White Knight messenger. No Mr. Shinny Badge Mark on the list. Okay, another slant…how many of each of these characters is there? Seven asterisks, two check marks, one skull, and nine widgets. Hmmm. Is this some kind of betting hand? Well, I'll make a copy and send Mel the original to see what the team comes up with. Okay, next, I got to find out about those Crest cabins. Where did I see that name? Ahh. A brochure downstairs.
Adison took a shower while planning her day’s itinerary. Later, hair dried and dressed in hiking clothes, she asked the server about renting a cabin in the nearby forest as she ordered her breakfast. She was directed to the Crest Cabin’s brochure. While she sipped her coffee waiting for her breakfast to be served, she read through the pamphlet on cabins in the forest getting an idea of their location and availability for rental or lease and prices.
****
"Hey boss, it's a go for the travel story. Got a rough draft done and sent you an E-mail on it. I also mailed you some knick-knacks I picked up in a few shops that I thought would be good examples of their individual craft styles. I'm going to check out the local landscape and see what else the town has to offer besides its tourist trade. I'll keep in touch,” she rattled to the voice mail number that was setup for her.
Adison hung the battered receiver up. She pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, looking around her. The payphone was outside of the ranger's office, at the bottom of the rock steps, to the left. She avoided the use of a scrambler on her conversation because it would alert Ranger Mayhew that she was more than a travel reporter, just in case he had the phone tapped. However, she had not resisted cleaning the phone of the dirt caked on the ear piece and mouth piece, after discreetly taking finger prints…just in case.
Well, Ranger Mayhew, another name and face identified…thank you very much. If I find half the list of names here, what a rout that will be.
According to the brochure and Ranger Mayhew, they oversaw a group of eight cabins up along the Crest, which the government rented out or long term leased. There were a few privately owned cabins intermixed with the government owned and operated ones. She had told Ranger Mayhew she was interested in renting or perhaps buying a cabin. While she talked with Ranger Mayhew, another ranger entered the room and mentioned one of the privately owned cabins was for sale – which seemed to upset Mayhew. That piqued her interest so she told them that she would like to look at it, giving the excuse that owning was better than leasing. Ranger Gray Horse retrieved the key while Ranger Mayhew gave her the directions.
Sliding back in the rental car, she pointed the vehicle up the winding mountain road. Twenty minutes later, she was still slowly climbing, scanning the unpaved side roads for any recent passage by a heavy vehicle and making a recorded list of license plates of cars leaving the area. Adison pulled her car over when her rearview mirror showed a dark blue Toyota Four Runner dressed for serious back road driving, coming up fast behind her. Instead of passing and moving on up the winding road, it pulled in front of her, and signaled her to stop. She slid the tape recorder into the leg pocket of her kaki colored pants as she obediently pulled off the side of the road.
Now what is this about?
The tall dark haired runner from the morning now had a badge looped over his waistband in clear view, with a leather belt holding a holster and a very big semiautomatic. He leaned down in front of her driver’s window, motioning her to roll her window all the way down.
"Good afternoon. Are you following me?" Adison asked politely. And why?
"Nope. A woman traveling alone though, can be dangerous. Heading anywhere special?"
"I was looking into buying a cabin up this way." He can’t be warning me about him, ‘cause I don’t get those vibes off him.
He nodded. His dark glasses reflected her face wearing sunglasses and a polite smile, which she hoped looked casual and not irritated.
"That would be up along the Crest."
Adison continued to smile, while reading all she could from the cop’s body language. She decided to continue in the same vain as when she arrived in town…she was a travel reporter writing a piece on this tourist town, Sunrise. So far, she did not think she was doing anything suspicious…
"I'm Mark Scripts, detective with the Sunrise PD and you might be…?"
She held out a hand. "Kay Smith." Well, well, well. Mr. Shinny Badge Cop himself. Were you just party crashing last night ‘cause you had nothing better to do…or what? And what kind of alarms am I setting off in your head that we keep meeting? Married, by the ring. You don’t look the type to fool around…but…that doesn’t mean you don’t. So…what do you want?
He nodded waiting for her to offer more.
"So…" he continued when she contributed nothing more, "the cabins you're looking for are straight up this road. The dirt road you will want is marked with a bright yellow flag. I'll follow you to make sure you get there okay. I don't want you to come up missing."
"That's kind of you. Though, I hope it's not interfering with something else you might have to do." Well, Adison, instead of patting yourself on the back about picking him out as a cop…you need to figure out how to ditch him. Why does he have to be so accommodating? Can’t you just go about your business and leave me to mine? she thought to him.
He smiled. "Not at all."
Adison returned with her polite smile. Oh, hell!
At the road where she was to turn off, she could now see why he followed her. The rental car’s carriage would not have cleared the first part of the entrance over the dirt road. The recent rains probably eroded the weaker parts of the entrance…or maybe the intention was to keep out sightseers.
Strange that the ranger had not mentioned it…oh, yeah, he did say the roads were rough. Not a big clue. Must have thought this would keep me out.
"Want a ride?" the polite voice offered.
“Sure, that’s really nice of you.” So, is this a test to see just how much I want to check out the cabins…or how much I trust you?
Adison locked up the rental car, and climbed up into the lifted truck's cab, grateful she was agile.
"You come up here often?" she asked casually, as the truck easily cleared the obstruction. The vehicle was bouncing and careening in sideways motions, but doing what it was designed to do -- keeping up its forward momentum.
"Often enough."
"Hmm." Well, can't hold it against him for giving so little information. It's not like I'm giving anything away to inspire sharing.
Adison's eyes scanned three scattered cabins, for any life signs. Another one with smoke rising from its fireplace sat further back. She thought about the chances of a forest fire from the fireplaces and hoped they had a good cinder catcher in the stacks.
The truck bounced off in another direction moving further into the wooded area.
"That's the one that's for sale, Ms. Smith."
Adison turned her attention back to her driver and to where he nodded. "Oh. Looks…rustic." Rustic? Oh, boy. I can’t believe I’m being that nice.
Det. Scripts merely smiled as the truck came to a stop near the cabin. "The family that owned it split up. The husband kept it for a while and now wants to sell it. It's one of the few cabins that are privately owned." He opened his door and slid out.
That’s just great. He's going to do the tour guide thing too. Surely he came up here for something other than tour guide duties.
Adison climbed down from the cab and secured her fanny pack around her waist. Looking around she studied the terrain that could hide snipers, snakes, and bugs that wanted to get too intimate with her. She was not wearing a Kevlar vest for man made projectiles, but her hiking boots did have high tops to protect against the indigenous wildlife with teeth or other blood sucking appendages, provided they did not bite above her knees. Her long kaki pants covered the tops of the boots and the ace bandage that wrapped around the bruise she sustained from the night before. Her cream-colored shirt was covered by a light tan coat, which hid a semiautomatic sitting snugly under her left armpit and the bruise on her shoulder. She was sure her hip was also bruised but that was not something that would normally show with the clothing she wore. At the door, she produced the key the ranger had given her but paused to look around the area before opening it.
It felt as if she was being watched…through the cross hairs of a rifle. Seeing nothing besides birds and a squirrel, she returned her attention to the door. By the scratches on the doorknob, someone had been practicing their lock picking skills with an unsteady hand. Before stepping in, Adison swung the door open and peered in. The interior odor wafted out and settled on them, smelling of unclean bodies and one of them was sick. She wanted so badly to pull her Glock out and feel it's reassuring weight in her hand, but that would mean giving up one of her trump cards – an ID to legally carry a concealed weapon, and then one that gave her the authority to look where she wanted: an ID as a bounty hunter.
Silently, she cursed whoever was responsible for this situation that may compromise her cover. She hated wasting identities. Somehow, she did not think Mr. Shinny Badge Cop was the average Joe Blow that would believe whatever story she gave. Some people were like that. They relied on something deeper than instincts. She was one of them and suspected this person was another. Inwardly, she groaned. In her line of work, anytime was a bad time to meet someone like him.
Det. Scripts firmly pulled Adison back, moving forward with a nice big 45 Springfield 1911A fitting comfortably in his large hands extended before him in the classic cop pose.
Whoa, Mr. Cop, you would make a good advertisement for a gun magazine.
Adison waited near the door, simultaneously listening to noises from inside and outside the cabin, ready to come to his aid if needed and ready to duck inside of the cabin if the goose bumps on her arms got worse.
Det. Scripts came back looking grim. "Come on. This place is not open for viewing. Looks like whoever stayed here last didn't clean up."
Adison stifled her look of dissention; realizing normal civilians did not take pleasure in looking at something that smelled as bad as an unclean sickroom. For just a brief moment, she entertained the idea of using her magazine credentials to get a look.
Nope. I don’t think he’ll buy the idea that a travel magazine writer is suddenly turning into a front-page news reporter. I already have his attention and that is not good for business. I have a feeling I’m going to be here a little longer and I don’t want to be running into him any more.
She followed the detective toward the cabin with smoke coming from its chimney. Adison could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Uh, oh!
As she made a grab for the detective's arm to pull him down, he was reaching back for her. With greater strength, he gave her a firm push in the opposite direction toward a big tree trunk while he rolled behind another.
Good thinking. Give the shooter two mobile targets to worry about.
A piece of a live tree trunk stung Adison’s cheek as she peered around her tree. She hit the ground and rolled to her feet still not pulling her gun, looking as she rolled to where the shot could have come from. Her insides were shaking from the narrow escape, but other parts of her body reacted the way they had been trained. Ignoring the sound of her coat ripping under the arms, she came back to her feet, and without waiting for the detective, she sprinted to the right of where she guessed the shooter was, knowing the detective was smart enough to move to the left and circle whoever it was. Whatever weapon the shooter had, he was using a silencer. Only the occasional splattering of whatever the bullet hit told her where his aim was. It did not relieve her any that he was not aiming to kill, only to slow them down. Why? What was happening that needed him to draw their attention away from where they were heading?
Both Det. Scripts and Adison converged on the same spot their shooter would have been but they only found a few empty cartridges their gunman was too much in a hurry to pick up. Adison picked one up and slipped it into her pocket when the detective had turned to follow a trail, using the trees to protect him. Within the forest, the echo of a motorcycle engine roaring to life told Adison they would not be catching the shooter at this time, unless he ran into a tree. Adison stood where she was letting her eyes search for any movement. A small sound behind her had her rolling to the side and pulling her weapon out.
A white haired older looking man stood before her with his hands in the air with the pinky on his left hand wiggling.
"Left three nights ago. Took a sick women with him."
"How many?" she asked softly. So, this is Sam Bear, my back-up -- if needed. She quickly returned her semiautomatic back to her holster.
"One." He lowered his arms keeping his hands in sight. "The men he met along the fire road were dressed in camos. Heavy on the armament side. Real professional. Someone returned this morning…just about tore the place up looking for something. Not part of either group, though. He returned about an hour ago with someone else."
The old man looked up as the detective approached.
Adison busied herself with looking at her torn blazer.
"Morning, Mark."
"Good morning, Sam. Back from vacation early I see." He nodded toward the cabin where they had just come from. "Would have been here sooner but I got an early morning call for a body on the beach.”
“Murder?”
“A couple of teens sleeping off whatever they had the night before. I missed something?"
"Not much."
Mel didn't say the local PD was working on this case. So what does Mr. Shiny Badge Cop know of this missing person? Obviously he's been working on it.
"Ms. Smith, why don't you go on and wait for me in my truck. I'll be but a minute."
I think it’s time I introduce myself to Sam -- without a chaperon.
Adison nodded toward the two men and started to walk back to the truck carefully placing her feet on the uneven ground. Glancing up, she spotted a reflection from further within the woods. Turning to look at the men, she decided the conversation was going to last longer than a minute. Stepping into the shady part of the forest, her eyes attempted to see beyond the darkness of the shadows. The forest opened up again and a cabin, all by itself, sat in the center of the late morning light. A busy stream could be heard nearby. From her quick glance around, there was no trash, no chair on the small porch, no smoke from the stack. It just looked empty and though well cared for…vacant for a long time.
Moving in for a closer look, she approached from the porch side.
Now, if I were to buy one of these places, this would be it. This place has a nice feel to it.
Carefully moving to a window, she made sure not to set the alarm off wired around the porch and windows.
I wonder what type of alarm this is and if it does go off, who’s notified?
The curtains pulled across most of the windows kept the interior dark from any peering eyes, thus revealing little if anything of the room’s contents. Walking around the square building, she found a small shed ten yards away from the cabin. It was a storage shed and not an outhouse. That was promising.
"Four rooms. One of the few with a basement. It’s got a toilet, stall shower, new Jacuzzi, small kitchen…just got equipped with solar power too. Battery stores right over there and a generator in case he needs more power. Great for one or two people, but only if you don't intend on staying indoors much. Cold in winters, though. And it’s got lots of bookshelves."
Sam and Detective Scripts had caught up with her.
"Who owns it?" She turned to look at Sam.
"A writer. Use to do most of his writing up here but he's getting on in years. He’s a widower with no kids. Chances are he'll be selling it soon and if he doesn't, his estate will. He's dying of cancer. You interested?"
"Yeah." Aside from her cover of coming up here to look at cabins, she really was interested, though, she had not the slightest idea what she would be doing with a cabin. When she did get vacations it was usually the type to let off steam at some resort where strangers only shared the carnal side of each other, provided safe sex was practiced. It was the type of short-term relationships her job accommodated to.
Sam nodded his head.
The ride back to her rental car was bumpy, short and noisy. The detective was deep in his own thoughts -- and Adison did not offer any openings for conversation. She returned the key at the ranger station and declined the cabin. Detective Scripts stepped in and talked to the ranger in low tones.
As Adison left the detective and ranger talking, she wondered how she was going to go back without finding the detective back on her tail. Ten minutes down the winding hill the dark blue truck followed her at a respectable distance. She made sure she was just driving the speed limit. About ten minutes outside of the town markers, he finally pulled ahead of her and sped off.
“It’s about time. Damn, you’re persistent. I wish you had picked another time to show me this side of you, not that I’m personally interested,” she muttered.
Once the truck disappeared from view, she made a sharp U-turn from one of the convenient turn-offs and headed back up the mountain with the gas pedal to the floor. The little rental made a gallant effort climbing close to the speed its occupant was pushing for, knocking and gurgling from the thin air and steep terrain.
Once headed in the right direction, Adison pulled her cell phone out. By habit, the conversation scrambler was turned on. She had faith in the GPS attached to her cell that she would get a clear signal on her first try.
"Hi, Mel, Adison here….Yeah, I’m using the writer cover….Oh, Sam Bear already told you about our excitement?…One of the rangers in the office was on the list I sent you – Bob Mayhew -- he didn’t appear happy that I was heading up to that cabin. It looks like that was where the last victim was held until delivered…Yeah, just like the one before. Mayhew wasn't there when I returned the key…Right…What's the plan now?…Alright, I’ll get a job. Do you think you can come up with a better resume this time? I haven't quite recovered from the waitress thingy…Well, how about something brainy, not too, ‘cause I want to leave most of my brainwork for this job…No, Mel, but I was beginning to think those bruises on my butt from being pinched so much were permanent -- and if they had on the job description at that place that it was part of the deal, I would have gone for the dish washing position…’Sokay, I just would like a break…Thanks, I really appreciate that…What?…Yeah, I told Sam I was interested in the cabin…Yeah, I’ve stayed in a cabin before. With my aunties, the twins. I used to spend summers with them…Yeah; it is somewhat scary that I’m actually thinking of buying a place. It’s away from crowds …Yeah; it has a flush toilet and shower.” Adison chuckled at his response, “Yeah, and it’s got a real Jacuzzi. You know I wouldn’t be interested in it if it didn’t……..” She sighed loudly at his following comments on how good it was that she find one place that she call home, and then her expression became serious as the voice suddenly switched to business. Adison suspected the information Mel was waiting for was just handed to him by Emily his secretary. She listened for the next few minutes nodding to herself and making ‘uh huh’ noises where appropriate.
“Okay…Roger, that. Bye." She folded up the thin phone and slipped it inside her pocket, making sure it was buttoned in. It took one embarrassing loss of a cell phone to teach her to secure it after use.
Maybe I can be the owner of a business that wants to open up a tourist shop here. Jeeze, I hope it's not another occult shop. Those snakeheads in bottles give me the creeps…I'll just sell the cards and little charms…no animal bodies in bottles, stuck on rattles or in powered form…bad karma for the uninitiated, as my aunties used to say.
Instead of driving up the road that would take her past the Ranger Station, she took another that led behind the cabins. Her topographical map of the area showed a way to the back of the cabins near a popular hiking path. It was not marked as a beginner’s path. She intended to have a chat with Sam, her local contact. So far, she had no need to contact her backup and it was at this time with great reluctance that she was. She preferred working alone. It cut the chances of her cover being blown, or so she felt.
At the bottom of the hill, she left her vehicle parked in one of the scenic turnouts. There were a scattering of cars. Tourists were taking pictures and hikers were returning from their hikes. Adison pulled out her fanny pack and empty bottles she could attach via Velcro to her pack. As she filled the bottles from the fountain, she scanned the area for a motorcycle or anyone looking out of place. Once she had her bottles filled, she approached a hiker putting away his heavy equipment.
“Hi, there,” she greeted the young man. She sized him up for a college student.
The youth nodded to her and slammed his trunk shut.
“Hi,” he replied, taking his time to check her out.
By the aroma that clung to his clothes, Adison figured he was determining whether she was a narc.
“Is the trail up this way moderate or for the more seasoned hiker?”
“It’s easy enough. You look like you can make it up to the top in about two hours, but it would be too dark by the time you were half way down unless you got a light.”
She nodded. “How far can I get if I didn’t have a flashlight?”
“The first ridge in about an hour. Nice view of the Crest and the ocean. Best time to start is early morning just as the sun is rising. Not many people on the trail then.”
Adison looked around. “Doesn’t look like much are up there now.”
“There’s another turnout around the bend. As you’re beginning your ascent, there’s going to be a lot of people coming down.”
Adison nodded. “Is there a less crowded trail?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t take it. Some of our group got roughed up last weekend by some military-type freaks. Said we were disturbing their games.”
“You were there?”
“I wasn’t one of the ones that got roughed up. I was further up the trail. I came back when I heard one of the women blowing her whistle. I guess we got them kinda nervous when so many of us showed up with our cameras.”
“You do this every weekend?”
“Class project. Finals are in about two weeks to end the summer session, so we’re all trying to get as much done as possible.”
“Did you complain to the rangers?”
He shook his head. “The professor did. She was one of the people they roughed up. Those good ol’ boys from the south don’t seem to like dyke-types,” he grinned.
Adison lifted her eyebrows. They were from the south? “Did you see any of those characters today?”
He shook his head. “No, but we stuck to the busier paths. None of us wanted any trouble.” His smile grew wider. “It didn’t sit too well with Professor Argent. She doesn’t want us to take the busy trails.”
“Just what is this class you’re taking?”
“Wildlife photography.”
“Did you get anything?”
“Yeah, a lot of squirrels, birds, a few skunks and some deer. Say, you better get moving if you want to at least make the first ridge.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the information and warning.” Adison moved off hurriedly. He’s figured me for someone that’s too nosey. I wasn’t subtle enough.
At the first chance, Adison left the trail and hurriedly moved in the direction of the cabins. The climb was steep, and she had to dig her toes into the rich soil in some places to prevent herself from sliding back down. Part of her was worried about the signs requesting visitors to stick to the trails and not create new ones, thus destroying parts of the forest that could be habitat for wildlife. Before she reached the top, she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. She was not well acclimated to the thin air and needed to watch her liquid intake as well as take rests. She leaned against the trunk of a pine tree enjoying the feel of the bark at her back and the noise of the forest around her. Without closing her eyes, she focused on the sounds of the wind roaring through the treetops, and the sounds of the squirrels shrilling and chattering as they chased or scolded each other. It brought to mind memories of her childhood vacations with her aunties. She smiled to herself as she remembered her elder aunts. Though they were twins and psychic, only one had used it for anything beyond amusing visitors. Adison sighed, missing their presence and her entertaining if not enlightening vacations.
A partial conversation drifted her way cutting off her reverie. Adison awkwardly dropped to her stomach on the steep slope. It was difficult to hide since she could easily start sliding back down if she did not have a tree to grip and there was not much foliage around the trunk to cover her.
She waited, listening to the voices fade in and out. They appeared to be moving away from her. Carefully she removed her fanny pack and rolled onto her back to study the direction she thought the voices were coming from. Rolling back on her stomach, she crawled upward on her elbows and knees.
I’ve got enough pine needles and dirt in my clothes to start my own garden.
Disgustedly she paused to pull one particularly annoying pine needle out of her waistband. Finally reaching the top of the slope, she peered down at the cabins. Pulling out her small binoculars, she studied her surroundings and looked for anyone watching her, before shifting her sights to the cabins below. She could see the open front door to the cabin she visited earlier. Three men were removing things. A sound from behind her had her rolling and bringing her leg up to kick.
“Damn, you scared me nearly to death!” she whispered dropping her leg and catching herself as she started to roll down the slope.
“You should be more careful,” Sam told her quietly as he released his hold on her arm to steady her. He nodded to the men below. “They started to clear the place out right after you two left. I’ve been watching them, but have had to move around. They have spotters around here.”
“Those voices I heard?”
He nodded. “The Jaded Amulet, the local group. They’ve been removing evidence.” He tugged at her arm. “It’s too busy here to talk.”
Adison nodded. Sam led her back to her vehicle. While Adison drove Sam back to his cabin, or as far as her vehicle could go, they compared notes. Sam knew more than what Adison thought a passive observer should know.
“Are you going to be alright up here?”
“Yeah. I’ll have no problems with them. They think I’m too old and antisocial to be a threat.”
“Did you get a chance to look the place over before the evidence was destroyed?”
“Yep. Your quarry was staying there for a few days. She was sick. I found one needle in a corner behind the trashcan. Sent it on up to your headman, Mel. Looks like the same MO as the other women. I think this one got sick from the drug they use to keep them out.”
Adison nodded. “The chemist said Ketamine is the main ingredient. In order to keep anyone controlled for days at a time blood samples would have to be taken to prevent side effects, like getting rather ill…I think the person that was watching over her either did not have training in managing someone on the drug or did not have the medical kit.”
Sam nodded not offering any input at this point.
“From the conversation I overheard last night, the usual person that handles the women was out.” Adison peered over at Sam. “They’ve been real careful in the past. Too many clues left behind this time. From what I can put together, the main man, Mike Learner, was out due to a near fatal stabbing. One of the grunts, Danny Brucker, picked up the package and not knowing the details, created his own delivery route, and even if he didn’t know where to deliver her, he knew who he was delivering to and where to find that person. This grunt is no slouch. He knew not to use a cell phone, kept a low profile, and brought a delivery that could have gone bust, to a successful end. If I had not been following my target, I would not have known he was delivering a woman. But…he’s not well liked so his success is being called a failure.”
Sam nodded. “Mike Learner usually handles the business in this area. His experience in law enforcement gives him inside knowledge and he uses it well. He works for the Sunrise PD.”
“Like Danny Brucker…just how legit is the local PD?”
“The only two not to trust are Danny and Mike, though now and then they will surprise you by doing something real nice…provided they don’t have each other as witnesses.”
“Oh, gawds. Not some macho rivalry between them, is there?”
“Very. When Chief Harper came on board he removed most of the old guard with proficiency tests and background checks. How those two managed to pass the tests is a mystery because their previous records gave no indication they had it in ‘em. Obviously, they were saving it up. Their major problem is their attitude. They have a real hard ass issue with women in uniform.” Sam shook his head and chuckled to himself. “I think they just need a spanking by a real big butch, man or woman, all dressed up in dark leather and knee high boots…their worst nightmare.”
Alex’s eyes opened wide in surprise and she laughed. I think he’s been up here alone far too long. “Is that the locker room gossip, Sam? I’ll be careful not to wear leather or black. You said one of the guys came back looking for something? Someone you didn’t think belonged to either group?”
“He was dressed in full camo gear, just right for this mountain environment, including face covering. Whatever he was looking for, it was important. He avoided being spotted by you or the local group. And, he wasn’t part of the group that took the women. Dresses different and has a different feel to him than the others. The second time that he came up, he was with someone. I spotted the motorcycle hidden behind one of the vacant cabins.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Were they here before you had a chance to check out the cabin or after?
“After.”
Adison was silent for a while. “You know, I ran across an unknown player last night in the warehouse. I wasn’t able to get a good view of the person, but I pegged it as a woman. She wasn’t there for the beginning of the meeting. Probably slipped in while everyone’s attention was on the office.”
“This person had all the characteristics of a male. I didn’t get a look at his passenger though. So, you had a big audience last night?”
“Not counting myself, there was the detective, and two incredibly clumsy guys that could have attended the militia gathering afterwards. I’m going to make a guess that these guys are built heavier than most people that like to sneak through windows. Which is odd that they would have been chosen for this job…unless its part of some kind of initiation into a club.” Adison was thinking out loud. She was finding it difficult to fit the two men from last night into any group that did surveillance. They were too inexperienced….except, they did avoid the surveillance monitors and they did find a very good place to listen to the conversation inside the office. She sighed and shook her head. Whose side were they on?
“Mark said the same.” He grinned. “He thinks they are part of the group that delivered the money. New recruits proving themselves. Just like you guessed. He couldn’t peg you though.”
“He saw me?” She was surprised and disappointed in her skills. They were obviously slipping.
“No. He said he felt someone was already there but wasn’t able to figure out who or where, so he used his backup plan when it was time for him to leave.”
“Shutting off the main power so there was a slight delay before the backup system kicked in.”
Sam nodded. “But, he didn’t say anything about the person you said was in there. That person could have arrived as Mark was leaving. You had all your attention on him. So, looks like you have two or three unknown players here.”
“About the detective…it’s a bit unusual that a small town cop knows so much about the spy business.”
“Ex-Seal. He’s one of the good guys and so is his boss, Chief Harper. Harper used to head the Bureau in Cincinnati. That’s where he met Mark. They know only about the local players. They’re still trying to piece things together.”
And you’re not volunteering any information and nor is the FBI. He should still have some friends there.
Mel had told her that Sam Bear was a retired operative for the CIA and did favors for law enforcement in exchange for them alerting him if they had something going on in his area. She was to treat him as part of her team if she should need him. Sam may have retired but he was keeping his finger on the pulse of things in his neck of the woods. Adison guessed he had enemies he liked to keep track of.
“According to last night’s conversation, the Boss intends on setting up a base camp here, and Mr. Detective heard that. So, I would say, Chief Harper and Detective Scripts will have their hands full.”
Sam nodded. “I heard you’re staying a while.”
Adison stifled the sigh. “Yeah. Hopefully this doesn’t take too long to where it feels like I’m setting down roots.”
“That’s not good?”
“I like to keep moving.”
“Still interested in the cabin?”
Adison smiled, “Well, it will make Mel happy. He thinks if his agents have a permanent address somewhere it will make them more stable.” Adison glanced toward Sam and for a few moments had a disconcerting feeling he understood more than she intended to reveal. Silently she let loose some profanities.
Why when I end up having a partner, does it end up he or she likes to read between the lines?
At the beginning of the rough road to the cabins, Adison dropped Sam off.
“Try Katie’s Rentals. She operates out of her house so if you’re not too late, like after nine pm., she’ll help you out today. Tell her I sent you,” he advised. Sam noticed Adison’s hesitation. He added, “She’s honest, discreet, doesn’t ask unnecessary questions, and doesn’t have ties with anyone law enforcement is interested in. She’s use to me sending people to her.”
Adison nodded. “Alright.” Just whom all are you sending to her?
****
Katie was a vivacious grandmother of one highly active five year-old, Matt, who had flung open the door at her first knock with so much power, it had bounced against the door jam and would have knocked the lad down if Katie had not grabbed the door. The sign near her door gave her business hours of eight to eight, Monday through Saturday, though in conversation Katie told her if she needed anything to just knock on the door; someone was always home and knew just where to reach her.
After Alice, Matt’s mother, carried him away screaming that he did not want to take a bath, Katie chatted for about fifteen minutes with Alex asking her questions on just what she was looking for and then printed out a list of about a dozen potentials and keys to five. The apartments without keys she would have to wait until Monday to ask the owners to show her around. Her Sunday itinerary jingled in her hand.
| File | Description | File size |
|---|---|---|
 Assignment Sunrise 13.doc | Chapter 13 | 147 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise Chapter 14.doc | Chapter 14 | 216 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise Chapters 19 - 20.doc | Chapters 19 - 20 | 147 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise 2 - 4.doc | Chapters 2 - 4 | 181 Kb |
| Assignment 21 -end.doc | Chapters 21 - End | 367 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise 5 - 8.doc | Chapters 5 - 8 | 1589 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise 9 - 12.doc | Chapters 9 - 12 | 251 Kb |
| Assignment Sunrise Chapters 15 - 18.doc | Chatpers 15 - 18 | 170 Kb |