Blood Line: 1

by John J. Davis

  “Okay, you’re doing fine; just keep answering my questions,” I said and then asked him, “What’s your background?”

  “I was a Ranger,” Briggs Smith said.

  I decided to step back from him and relieved him of his gun. I dropped the clip to his Glock 9mm to the floor and kicked it away while ejecting the round from the chamber before tossing the weapon in the opposite direction. I watched him carefully anticipating his next move. He wiped his face with the left sleeve of his suit coat. He was dropping his left arm, and I saw the right arm go for something behind his back. He pulled a knife with his right hand and pushed off the window, lunging at me knife first. That was a mistake.

  I stepped back with my right foot and twisted my body to the right. My left hand shot out, clamping down on his right wrist like a vise. Pulling his right arm toward my body and relieving him of his knife with my right hand, I continued spinning to my left, slamming my right elbow into the back of his head. That’s when I heard the approaching Jeep. I worried what Leecy would see when she entered the kitchen, and then realized this was exactly what she’d asked for.

  Ranger Smith was pinned down on the kitchen table when Leecy and Valerie walked through the back door. I was pulling his right arm up and back, and the weight of my body pinned him to the tabletop. His legs were too far apart to use as leverage, and even with his left arm free he could do nothing.

  “Wait,” he gasped and groaned at me.

  I held his knife in my left hand and pressed the tip against the base of his skull. “What?”

  “There’s more. Porter has a partner. I don’t know who, but he’s working with someone else.”

  “What do Porter and this mystery partner want?”

  “I don’t know. Like I said, I was hired on a need-to-know basis. All I know is they wanted your daughter at first. They wanted her held hostage till Sunday afternoon. They thought by kidnapping her it would get them whatever else they’re after. I don’t know why they think that or where they wanted to hold your daughter. I just know that was the original plan, because Travis Smith and I were hired to guard her. All that changed when Porter saw your daughter coming out of the bathroom at the police station. He now thinks she overheard him talking. Like I said before, he changed his plan from kidnapping her to taking all of you. He doesn’t want you three free to use whatever your daughter might have heard him say. That’s all I know, really; I swear.”

  I thought a moment and then said, “Good boy, Ranger Smith, but here’s my problem. If I let you live, you’ll just join up with Porter and keep pursuing your objectives. That’s not good for the Grangers. But I’m a man of my word. I said you could live if you told me everything. I believe you’ve told me all that you know. So, I’ll keep my word. But I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” Ranger Smith grunted.

  “I need you to tell Porter and the other guy you’re working with something for me. Will you do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked directly at Leecy holding her gaze with mine.

  “My CIA file reads I’m to be considered extremely dangerous,” I paused and adjusted my feet a little, “and that I’m an expert in all forms of hand-to-hand combat. My file says I’m unsurpassed in tactical awareness, but the important part is how the file ends. It concludes with a note of caution.”

  Dropping my gaze from my daughter, I bent close to Ranger Smith’s upturned right ear. I threw his knife across the room sticking it in the doorjamb twenty feet away.

  I finished saying, “The note in my file simply reads: ‘You’ve been warned.’”

  With that said, I pulled his right arm back, lifting his torso off the table, and held him there momentarily. I said, “Tell Agent Porter one other thing for me. Those rumors he talked about? Tell him those rumors are true. Tell him he’s correct; the rumors are about me.”

  I slammed his head into the table top with enough force to knock him unconscious.

  I looked at Val and Leecy and said, “Let’s get the stuff we need and get out of here. He was on the phone with Porter when I came in the back door. We don’t have much time.”

  I left the Ranger where he lay on the floor beneath the table and headed for the back of the house, followed by Valerie and Leecy.

  “I’ll get the safe open,” Valerie said. “Ron, why don’t you wash the Ranger’s blood off your face and hands?”

  I was already headed for our master bathroom before she finished the sentence. I lathered my face and hands with the liquid soap Valerie kept in the dispenser on our sink, and rinsed off with warm water. I was drying my face as I thought about what the Ranger had said. Porter was working with someone. Did he mean the two guys that broke into our house, or someone else? Could that person also be FBI?

  “Time to move. Let’s go, Ron,” the call came from Valerie. I dropped the towel in the sink.

  I caught up to my wife and child at the end of the hallway.

  “Dad?” Leecy said, pointing at the unconscious man beneath the kitchen table as we walked through the back door. “Why didn’t you just kill that guy? Won’t he do exactly what you said and just hook back up with Porter and the other Smith?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “he will. But I need him to deliver the message for me. And I gave him my word. If he talked, he got to live. I don’t want whatever we’re involved in to come to killing. I don’t want to be that guy again.”

  “If you two are finished, we have everything we need from the house. The other items we need, we’ll have to buy,” Valerie called.

  Thirty seconds later, we were in the Jeep. Valerie was driving, Leecy was riding shotgun, and I was in the back seat. We heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. I couldn’t see it because we were on the backside of the house. The sound was getting louder. The vehicle was heading up our driveway. I was digging through one of the Go bags for a weapon when Val spoke.

  “Hold on; this is going to be close,” she warned us as she jammed the accelerator to the floor.

  The Jeep shot across the backyard. She steered in the direction of the large evergreen trees she’d driven between earlier. I looked out the slanted rear window of the Jeep’s fastback top in time to see the nose of the black Suburban. It was about two car lengths behind us. I could see Travis Smith behind the wheel and Agent Porter in the passenger seat.

  I was facing the rear when the sound of branches rubbing against the sides of the Jeep caused me to face forward. The Jeep was awash in green, like being inside a car wash, and then we were through the trees. Valerie hit the brakes and turned the steering wheel hard to the left. We were on the narrow trail behind our house, but Valerie wasn’t slowing down like I had earlier. She was speeding faster and faster between the trunks of the trees. The trees were dangerously close to the sides of the Jeep and, unlike moments before, these weren’t small leafy green branches, but the hundred-year-old trunks of oak trees.

  I turned in my seat again and looked out the rear window in time to see the nose of the Suburban break through the evergreen trees. I watched it stop, back up, and then complete the left turn Valerie had made with much less effort.

  “They can’t follow us; the Suburban is too wide,” I said as I watched the chase vehicle slam its front right bumper into one of the oak trees. The doors of the Suburban flew open and I was yelling, “Gun! Leecy, get down!”

  We were driving a long, straight, narrow, rut-filled track lined with mighty oaks. The Jeep was a big silver moving target that Porter and the other Smith could disable with one well-placed shot. I was reaching for Leecy. I yelled for her to take cover. I wanted to push her down into the floorboard of the front seat. As the Jeep dipped and rose through the ruts, a 9mm bullet ripped through the vinyl rear window and punctured the roof.

  “Oh my god they’re shooting at us!” Leecy cried.

  Valerie turned sharply to the right, using the Jeep’s emergency brake momentarily to rapidly decelerate. She drove expertl
y between two large oaks and then swerved back to the left again. She was now driving on a parallel track to the one she’d turned off of.

  “I can’t see them anymore, so they can’t see us. You can slow down now,” I said to Valerie from my twisted position in the back seat. “We’re clear.”

  I felt the Jeep slow a tiny bit and asked, “How’d you know you could turn back there?”

  “I used to take Leecy hiking back here when she was a baby. You were out of town back then; we had to have something to do. I’m glad I knew it was there; that one shot was enough.”

  “Well that was …uh…fun,” Leecy said, peeking around the side of her seat. “I can now check attempted kidnapping, high-speed car chase, and being shot at off of my bucket list. All I need to do now is learn how to fight. Can you teach me how to fight like you?” she asked me. Turning to her mother, she said, “And can you teach me how to drive and shoot like you?”

  “I can teach you what I know,” I said, “but if you want to learn from the best, you should learn from your mother.”

  Leecy adjusted herself in her seat. She was now sitting all the way up, giving me a view of her profile. Her eyes were fixed on her mother. Leecy said, “Really, Mom? Is that true? The man whose CIA career was so epic that it evolved into legend and rumor says you’re better at this stuff than he is.”

  I could see part of the smile creeping across my wife’s face from my position in the back seat when Valerie answered. “The truth is, your father and I both possess specific skill sets. I’ll be happy to teach you everything I know.”

  “Okay, I like the sound of that, but what about your spy days, Mom? Dad’s secrets are out on the table. Well, most of them, I think. When do I get to hear your secrets?”

  “I promised to tell all and I will, but first we need supplies.” Changing the subject, Val then asked, “What else did Briggs Smith tell you, Ron?”

  “You heard everything. The part where he told me Porter was working with someone is what has me the most concerned. He didn’t know who, and I believed him.”

  “Any ideas?”

  I’d already given that question some consideration and said, “Two thoughts on that subject. First one is that Ranger Smith could’ve been referring to the two men that broke into our house this morning. And second thought is that we haven’t met the person yet, and won’t know they’re with Porter till it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  “That sounds scary. Why only those two options?” Leecy asked.

  “I can’t think of any others at the moment, but give me time.”

  “No, your Dad’s right,” Valerie said as she turned left between two trees and found the original trail again. “We need to devise a plan, part of which is to trust no one.”

  Valerie was in full flight mode now. She thought we couldn’t trust anyone, but I wondered if there wasn’t someone. Lester came to mind, and I thought of another person, but I had to be careful mentioning her. Valerie wouldn’t like the idea forming in my head.

  I unbuckled my seat belt and sat with my back to the passenger side door, stretching my legs across the seat in an effort to find a comfortable position. The Jeep shot across State Highway 64 and continued on the dirt road in the direction of the next asphalt-covered road, which was State Road 16.

  Valerie saw me fidgeting in the back seat and said, “It’s just a few more miles before we reach the intersection at State Road 16, and then you can drive.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” I said, and then asked, “Is Stubbs’s Store still open? It’s been years since we’ve been out this way.”

  “I have no idea, but we’re going to find out.”

  Stubbs’s was an old country store named after its owner, Charlie Stubbs. The store was located in what most people would call the middle of nowhere, but for others the remote area was home. The store sold everything a person might need if that person were a local, and nothing a tourist would be interested in except gasoline. I looked through the windshield of the Jeep and saw the side of the old cinderblock building coming into view. The soft glow of lights emanating from the glass front doors could be seen in the overcast grey skies. We were in luck.

  Valerie crossed State Road 16 and turned right into the dirt parking lot, stopping on the concrete pad next to the one and only gas pump.

  “If you pump, I’ll pay and pick up the other items we need. If he has both fuel and prepaid mobile phones that is,” Valerie said as she climbed down from the driver’s seat.

  “I’m going with Mom,” Leecy announced.

  “Leave me the keys so I can move the Jeep,” I said.

  “On the seat,” Valerie called over her shoulder.

  The pump on my left dinged as it came to life. I looked toward the glass doors of the store and saw Val giving me the thumbs up sign to go ahead and start filling the gas tank. With the tank topped off, I drove to the far side of the building, out of sight of Highway 16, and waited. I was beginning to wonder what was taking the girls so long when they rounded the corner of the building carrying a grocery bag apiece.

  We ate a picnic of sorts in the parking lot of Stubbs’s. Ham sandwiches, corn chips and bottled water, with a candy bar split between the three of us for dessert. Val called her family on one of the three prepaid mobile phones. She kept her calls under 2 minutes, which wasn’t easy when it came to her mother, but it was a necessary precaution in case Porter was tapping her family’s phones.

  “All right, I think that’ll hold her for a day or two, but no longer than that,” Valerie said as she ended the call.

  “That bad?” I asked.

  “She’s extremely distraught and the only thing that’ll calm her down is seeing that we’re all okay with her own eyes and hugging her grandbaby. Her words, not mine.”

  “So, what now?” Leecy asked.

  “First of all,” Val went on before I could get a word in, “we stay away from the police because all Porter would have to do is flash his badge and any local or state cop would do whatever he said.” Apparently reading my mind, she added, “Yes; for now that includes Lester. We have to be very careful about who we trust. That’s if there’s anyone we can trust.”

  “Maybe we have someone we can call that can help us figure out what Porter is after, and maybe even who he is working with,” I said.

  “You think she’s still around the agency?” Val asked, reading my thoughts again.

  “Who’s still around the agency? What agency? The CIA? What are you talking about?” Leecy asked.

  “I’m talking about my handler.”

  “What’s a handler?” Leecy asked.

  “When a CIA recruit becomes an operator and enters the field, he or she is assigned a handler. As a spy, this is your one and only contact person. They work directly with you and monitor your behaviors. The handler is to make certain a spy stays on mission and doesn’t become lost in his cover identity. The handler helps a spy stay grounded. They act as boss and therapist to some degree. If the relationship is solid between the spy and the handler, they form a very deep personal bond. If my old handler is still with the agency, she’ll move heaven and earth to help us,” I answered.

  “There’s always a price to be paid when you call in a favor with these people,” Val added.

  Leecy was perched on the hood of the Jeep with her back to me. She slid off the hood and turned to face me and asked, “If your old handler is still with the CIA, how would you contact her? And what price would she want for helping you? I mean what would you have to do in return?”

  “I’d contact her like I did before I moved to non-operator status with the agency a few years ago. The agency recorded one set of active operator dates for my official file. My active dates are officially 1996-2003, as you heard Agent Porter read, but I’ve used my position with INESCO and the international travel that comes with it as an unofficial cover. Sporadically at first, and now seldom if at all. My objectives changed, of course. I mainl
y gathered information for the agency when tasked. Anyway, what’s important here is I can still contact my former handler. We worked together for seven years. If she’s around the CIA in any capacity, she’ll help us. My contact codes and passwords from my operator days will still be active, even if they’re unmonitored. All I need to do is make a call and enter in a coded ID tag, a coded message and a call back number. I’d need a payphone to do that. As far as the price I’d pay for asking for help, I don’t know what they’d want from me, but it’s worth any price, because she’ll help us. I know she will.”

  “Your handler was a woman?” Leecy asked.

  “CIA agent and Special Officer Tammy Daniel Wakefield,” I said, and then added, “She was in charge of my training class and later became my handler. She was a top-notch agent. The only person other than you and your mom I would trust completely.”

  “Well, I don’t know what other choice we have. There’s a pay phone inside the store mounted on the wall between the ladies’ and men’s rooms. Make your call. We’ll clean up and be ready to roll when you come back,” Valerie said.

  “On it,” I said as I turned and jogged toward the store.

  I found the pay phone and dialed a number I’d memorized on the day I graduated from training. I punched in my identification code, followed by the distress code and the number of the phone in my pocket, and pressed the pound key. I replaced the receiver and headed for the waiting Jeep. I could see it parked directly in front of the glass doors as I walked from the back of the store to the front. I was about to push the door open when I heard the cashier say something. I stopped.

  The cashier called to me saying, “Look, I don’t want no trouble from you folks, but the TV lady just said there’s an all points bulletin out for a silver Jeep, and three people by the last name of Granger. They got your faces plastered all over the TV, mister. They just did one of those breaking news things and it’s all about you folks. They say the FBI is looking for you. Says they want ya’ll for questioning about an assault on a federal agent. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t seen you, if you know what I mean. Just do me a favor and don’t come back.”