by mike Evans
Forsyth nodded yes to the kid and the smile on his face was definitely something that was not going to take very long to grow on him. “Dad it is part of the tour, we are going!”
“Okay buddy, I gotta go, but I love you so much, more than anything. I’m going to see you just as soon as possible I promise.”
“Are you bringing Mom with you Dad?”
“I’ll tell you what, you and I can talk about things when I get there. We are going to have some changes, but over time I think that we are going to be just fine. There are always changes in life, and you just need to learn to cope with them.”
“Okay Dad, I’ll see you soon, stay out of trouble.”
Gabriel laughed, “I don’t have you with me and you are the original trouble maker. I love ya bud, tell Forsyth I said bye ok?”
“Bye Dad, I love you too.”
Chapter
Seven
Gabriel turned around to find Shaun looking at him as if he was trying to figure things out. “You talking to your kid or something?”
Gabriel figured that revealing the truth wouldn’t hurt anything and nodded. “Yeah, he’s with a friend for a while so that I could tie up some loose ends here.”
“You don’t strike me as the type with many friends, especially the kind that trusts them with their kid.”
“He’s my only friend, and the only one that I would trust with my son. The CIA and I have a long history together and unfortunately, every time I go back with them something horrible has happened because of it. I’ve lost everything that I loved in life except for my son.”
“Can I assume that all this had something to do with your wife?”
Gabriel nodded and handed him the phone. “Go get us a ride. Talking about this isn’t going to do anything to put me in a sociable mood.”
Shaun took the phone from Gabriel, started to walk away but stopped suddenly and asked, “What’s your name sir? I mean there probably needs to be something that I can call you?”
“Gabriel works.”
He instantly thought of the bible and then of whom Gabriel was. “Really? Gabriel? The guy that broke me out of a CIA building and who has killed everyone we’ve come into contact with, except those few guards, has a name that’s really fucking Gabriel? Well just do me a favor and don’t kill me please, I've got a long retirement that I very much look forward to enjoying. There are many lovely ladies whom I have yet to bed down.”
Gabriel stared at the man who was punching the numbers on the phone and took note of the glistening wedding ring on his hand. “You aren’t taking the wife with you?”
“The wife is out of the picture, she uh…..well she said that she couldn’t live with a criminal. She didn’t quite think that what I was doing was justified. So she decided to jump ship while she thought the getting was good. She took enough to make herself comfortable for this life and next and disappeared one night. Over the last few days, the friendly visits of the CIA started to get more frequent and between themselves and the FBI they were being less and less cordial and having more accusations. By the end of it, they slapped handcuffs on me and went for the mean approach. A day later, a crazy man named Gabriel ran into my room asking me what my crime was and took out both of the men who were interrogating me. But from what you said, you probably had a much shittier run than me. But your name still creeps me out… you don’t go by anything else? I mean, I’d think that you had a real name once, right?”
Gabriel replied, “If you don’t want me to kill you, then just remember not to screw me over. That shouldn’t be too hard since you are the one that is going to be giving me a ride to freedom.”
Shaun said, “Well I’ll do my best to not piss you off or give you any reason to do so. I don’t have any intentions of doing it anyways, not that anyone ever does right?”
“Don’t you have a phone call to make Mr. Phelps?”
“Again, I think that we need to be on the best of terms and have a good working relationship, so please call me Shaun if you don't mind. I’d really appreciate it.”
Gabriel smiled and said, “I’ve been quite good friends with a few of those that have had to be put down by my hand. Are you so sure that you want to be friends?” “You mean a gun though?”
“No, like I broke their necks with my bare hands. Now get going on that airplane please. I’d like to make it up there before I end up passing out. It’ll happen sooner, rather than later, I'm pretty damn confident of that.”
Shaun motioned to the car and said, “Well, why don’t you go take a seat in the car before you fall down. It has GPS and you got the keys, so all I need to do is make the call then we’ll hit the road. I’ll wake you if you fall asleep on the way there I promise. Is there anything that I need to know before I try and do that?”
“Yeah, don’t touch me. And talk in a soothing voice or I’ll probably shoot.”
“You sure do know how to make a guy feel better; you are missing that warm, cuddly talk that most people have. Did you know that? I mean did anyone ever mention that to you?”
Gabriel nodded and retorted, “Yeah, I've heard that once or twice before believe it or not.”
Shaun smiled uneasily while holding the phone. He watched Gabriel make his way to the car then collapse into the seat. He thought that it might be easier to just have someone come and pick him up and leave the man to his own demons. Shaun also had thoughts that someone like Gabriel might not be so bad to keep around for a little while, depending on how things played out. He listened as the phone rang and was answered by a voice that cheerfully said, “Hello, Global Trips, how may I help you reach your destination today?”
Shaun grunted in reply, “Cut the shit Patrick. I need you to get your ass to Virginia and I need you to do it immediately. You tell me what airport is the easiest for you to fly into, no questions asked, and I’ll meet you there. I need a favor and I need it now!”
“What do you mean you need a favor? When I called to check on my investments, they told me that the FBI and the CIA had you taken you in for questioning. Can I assume it safe to say that my money is gone?”
“Your money is just fine and to show my thanks I'm going to double it, but you need to get out here. Can you get one of the corporate jets and pick me up soon?”
“Are you kidding me Phelps? My boss knew that I had dealings with you and I got put on restriction. They won’t even let me fly. I'm sitting at the front desk because of you!”
“You come and pick me up and I’ll make sure that there’s enough money in your bank account that you won’t ever have to work again. Hell, you can sit down with me on the beach for a month on my dime. Just the two of us and more ladies at your disposal than your dick can handle.”
“Well as enticing as that is, I don’t necessarily believe you Phelps.”
“Tell you what, go find anything you can get off the ground and do it now. I only ask that you can go from Virginia to somewhere that I don’t have to worry about all the judicial laws that are an issue. If you can handle that, this will be your last day of needing to work my friend. I can promise you that.”
“If you really do that then you and I are going to be the best of friends,” Patrick said with a much improved attitude.
“Come pick me up and make sure you got a laptop and that we won’t have any issues. Can you get one of the prop planes? They can’t send those out too often can they?”
“You’d be surprised, there's still plenty of people out there who are nostalgic about taking those up. They think that it is the best thing in the world. Besides, they can still cost over one and a half million, so they aren’t cheap. Someone is going to notice it missing pretty quickly if it doesn’t come back.”
“Then we hire some asshole to fly it back with a thirty thousand dollar ‘I'm sorry’ card inside. I have a feeling that would smooth things over pretty quickly.”
“You know, if that is the case, we can fly an Otter down. It’d be perfect.”
“Well, we don’t need t
o be in a cargo plane for God sakes! I mean, I do have my standards Patrick.”
Patrick laughed at this, ignorance being bliss. “This thing is so damn tricked out on the inside, you’ll want to make the plane your new home. There’s little that isn’t leather on the inside and it’s such a smooth ride, you’ll think that we are riding down there on a fucking cloud.”
“How soon can you be here?”
“Well, can you give me two hours to get everything figured out and a bag packed? How does that work for you?”
Shaun punched in the information into the car’s GPS, trying to not wake Gabriel or make him the least bit jumpy in his sleep. He said “Oh hell! That’s only twenty minutes from here. I think we might be smart to go somewhere a little bit further away Patrick.”
“You are on the run aren’t you? You did something stupid, didn’t you?” Patrick exclaimed.
“With enough zeroes behind a number Patrick, does it really matter? I just had a disagreement with the government, which led to someone else feeling the same way about them as I did, luckily. The opportunity came up that I could leave and because of that, I'm offering you the deal of a lifetime. You won’t have to fly rich assholes to the best places in the world anymore. You can buy your own damn plane and fly it wherever you want and do what you want. Now, if that sounds just too horrible for you to deal with, you let me know. I’m sure the promise of not having to work any longer is just going to break people's hearts. I can’t imagine.”
“Save your sales pitch, I said I was in, and I’m in. Now get in the car and on the road because this place is just a bit over two hours away. It’s in Charlottesville, Virginia. You and I will be getting there right around the same time.”
“Great, that’s good, you won’t regret anything. I’ll see you in a few hours. I better get going.” Shaun thought about telling him about Gabriel, but figured it was best to maybe keep the gun toting stranger a secret for the time being. Filling Patrick in right now would not help convince him to temporarily steal a plane and make the flight. He started the car and the two men headed down the highway. A few miles later they drove past a slew of government sedans and blacked out SUVs that were going the opposite direction, all flying down the road like a bat out of hell. He smiled, thinking of how they were going the wrong way, only to realize that the Feds were headed to the parking lot that he and Gabriel had vacated not more than ten minutes ago. He looked at the GPS and realized that they probably had every one of those government issued cars tracked so they knew where they were at all times.
The two sped in the opposite direction. He watched Gabriel sleeping, and could see that the normal pleasure that brought sleep to most people showed nothing but torture in his. He thought about the man and how violently he’d killed the other men. He wondered what really had happened and if Gabriel was safe to take with him. Shaun briefly thought pushing him out of the car door while he was still asleep, but realized he’d more than likely be dead before he ever pulled the door handle. He kept to the speed limit, praying the car they were in was not somehow being tracked or that the state patrol or police weren’t out looking for them.
Chapter
Eight
Director Lincoln had gone through all of his numbers multiple times. He had tried calling the Farm to see if they had any contact information, but had been told that when Clary retired, he disappeared off of the grid. It was starting to make him nervous, thinking that he was going to have to get a few agents to go out and find Clary and give him a phone so that they could talk. He was beyond frustrated. He went to punch in the numbers on his computer for the different interrogation room cameras. Lincoln wanted to see what, if any, progression they were making. He figured that they were just getting started; knowing Howard would have to get the men out of the infirmary before they could begin the questioning process.
He looked on the log and found the interrogation room that SWAT had checked out and quickly entered the number. When the screen came into view his worst fears were displayed plainly in front of him. He saw three of his men lying in impossible conditions in the room. From the lack of movement, it was easy to tell that if the men weren’t already dead, they were going to be very soon. He played the video back, rewinding it while hitting his speaker to call for security. He yelled when the man answered hello, “What in the fuck are you doing in that office?”
“Excuse me, hello Director Lincoln. I'm sorry, I don’t seem to understand.”
“Well if you did then I wouldn’t be doing your job for you, you dumb son of a bitch. I just lost three men and it looks like two more in the hallway!”
The guard at the desk was pounding the keys like he hated them, trying to figure out what the director was freaking out about but at the same time trying to get the answer fast enough so as not to keep him waiting for long. He pulled up the camera view and after seeing the state of the interrogation room, he hit the red button quickly. The building went into lockdown mode, closing all entrance and exit doors keeping anyone from coming and going until they knew what was going on.
The director screamed through clenched teeth, “Figure out where in the fuck they are and do it now! It appears that I have some special phone calls to make, but I want an update the minute that you get it! This is unacceptable, let me know if you’d like to work in Alaska for a few decades protecting a frozen guard shack, because that is something that I am more than capable of arranging for you.”
“No sir, I mean yes sir, I will get a call immediately. I need to go; I need to make more calls.”
The director hung up on him then punched in Clary’s name one more time into the IRS database. He discovered a plot of land that Clary owned out in the middle of Iowa. He saw that is was a small farm. He looked up the closest neighbor near Clary and made a call then heard a man answer, “Hello?”
Director Lincoln looked at the name on the line and said, “Hello is this Mr. Mishler?”
The man had a thick country drawl and said, “I ain’t buying shit, and I don’t give a shit who you are voting for. I vote one way and Republican is it. If you are trying to help me figure out who I should put in office, you can kiss my old wrinkled ass!”
The director just stared for a moment, confused and trying to realize what was happening. He remembered that he hadn’t had time to introduce himself, “Hello Mr. Mishler, I’m not calling about anything that will cost you a dime, or use up your vote. That is the least of my concern. My name is Director Lincoln I-”
“Director who? Christ, you ain’t from around here is ya? What kind of a director are you, like movies and shit?”
He thought about Iowa and where he was and said, “Well no, no, I am not. I work for the CIA.”
“Well I paid my taxes. You got no business calling me up in the middle of the day.”
“Sir, I work for the CIA, not the IRS. I can surely understand why you don’t want a call from them though. I actually need a favor and it won’t cost you a thing but a minute of your time.”
“My time ain’t worth no money? Is that what you are saying?”
“No, that’s not it at all. I think we are getting off on the wrong foot sir. All I need is some information from you and it is quite important as I've exhausted my resources-”
“Christ the CIA lost its damn resources and I'm the last one you got to call? You must have hit a damn pole. I ain't never gotten a call from no CIA person before, you got them billion dollar satellites and you can’t just go and track somebody down?”
“Well that is the problem sir, I had a man who worked for us, and well, we need to speak with him regarding someone that he might know. We need to get some background information about him that might help us to deal with him.”
“Ya’ll charge me all that God damned money and you and your fancy damn computers can’t keep track of one guy? You need to try and find them by calling an old farmer on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere? I can’t tell ya how confident I feel in you and your damned organization.”
“Yes, normally this wouldn’t be the way that we operate. In all honesty, I would have to say that this is quite the opposite of how I try to take care of things. But when it comes down to getting things in order and done quickly under circumstances like this, there isn’t a lot that I can do about it. There is a certain amount of tact that I usually use, but it isn’t going to be used today sir. I am trying to track down Michael Clary. Do you see him on a regular basis? Would he know who you are if you were to go to his house and ask him to call me and letting him know how important it is that I speak with him at once?”
“Shit, do I talk to him, yep I sure do. I get a cup of coffee with him every day. That son of a bitch is crazy though. He has a perfectly good Ford truck. I won’t judge him, I'm a Chevy man you see, always have been, and my daddy and his daddy was too. Don't know how someone goes down that path, probably drinks Coke instead of Pepsi too though. I mean -”
“Sir, Mr. Mishler, this is really a matter of great concern. Can we stay on the topic please? I would really appreciate it.”
“Why is it that all you eastern fellas talk like you got a stick up your ass? Hell that might be why Washington is full of assholes.”
Lincoln was clenching the phone hard enough to break it so he set the receiver down and hit the speaker button. He picked up the stapler off his desk and launched it without looking where he was throwing it. He snapped his head around when the plate glass window to his door shattered and he collapsed back into his seat. The instant thought that someone had taken a shot at him has not surpassed his thought process.
His assistant ran in, looked at the door and at the stapler and when he saw the director’s face he slowly started to back out of the room while smiling nervously and holding his hands up in instant defeat. Lincoln smiled through clenched teeth and said, “Yes Mr. Mishler, whatever you say. Now, do you speak to him from time to time, or not?”
