Blood Line: 1

by John J. Davis

  Valerie stopped walking and turned to face her daughter. This was the moment Valerie had worried about for so many years and now it was upon her. My fears got the better of me and in an effort to take the heat off Valerie I made an assumption.

  “Don’t be too hard on your mom,” I started to say, but was cut off by Leecy.

  “Be too hard on her for killing a man that wanted to continue oppressing his own people? Not likely, Dad. No, I want to hear all the details. Every single one of them, and don’t leave anything out. Okay?”

  We were very close to the end of the trail. I checked the time and the bars on the cell phone. It was after 5:00 p.m., and I had one reception bar.

  “Where do you think we are?” I asked.

  “We’re on the southern end of East Park. We’ll need a car from here. We have about fifteen more miles to cover before we reach the hotels that ring the Atlanta airport. I can use some of our cash and my fake ID to buy a cheap car from one of the used car lots in East Park, or we can wait here till the sun sets and borrow a car for a little while,” Valerie said.

  “Steal a car? Now you tell me you can steal a car. Okay, I vote steal a car.” Leecy said.

  “No stealing unless necessary,” I said. “We’ll buy a cheap car. We don’t need any more attention than we already have. Don’t forget there is an APB out for us, and the FBI is looking for us.”

  “I know, but stealing a car sounds like more fun. Did the Mossad teach you to steal cars, Mom?” Leecy asked.

  “Among other things,” Valerie answered, and she started walking again.

  “Really,” Leecy said thoughtfully, and then rushing to catch up to Valerie, asked, “What else happened in the hotel room with the liaison lady?”

  “I was briefed on the mission. I was given my code name, travel documents and my liaison’s code number, and told how to contact her. And to be ready in one hour.”

  “That’s great and all, but break it down for me,” Leecy said.

  “My mission, as you already surmised, was to assassinate Mr. Volodarsky. He was the leader of a group that wanted to restore the pre-Gorbachev, pre-Perestroika status quos in the Soviet Union, so he had to be eliminated. My code name was Scorpion. Any communication that didn’t contain my code name wasn’t to be trusted. My travel documents for that mission were under the name Beth Bradley. I was traveling on a student visa studying international business administration. All of the papers were false, but the fact that my cover was based on my actual studies made it very easy for me to be believable if questioned. My liaison’s code number was 31261714. I contacted her using a similar method to the one your dad used earlier at the store to contact the CIA. It was the early days of cell phone technology. Pay phones were more reliable.”

  Valerie walked through the last of the woods and stepped onto the dead end of a dirt road. I stopped behind Val and Leecy. I could see over their shoulders to the back of an abandoned warehouse, but nothing else. “Where to now?” I asked.

  “If nothing has changed since the last time I was here,” Valerie began, “we follow this dirt road for about a mile. Then we hang a left and walk about a half-mile. We’ll find the southern end of the main drag that runs through East Park. That’s where the used car dealers traditionally set up shop, but like I said, it’s been a while.”

  “How long is a while, exactly?” Leecy asked as she followed her mother out of the woods and onto the dirt road.

  “Twenty years or more,” Valerie said.

  “Wait a minute,” Leecy called, but Valerie just kept on walking.

  “We’re basing our decisions on twenty year old information? Since when has that ever been a good idea?”

  “It’s all we have,” I said and placed a hand on Leecy’s backpack to move her along. “We don’t have our smart phones anymore, because we don’t want to risk being tracked or traced. So, we walk and see what we can find. I know standing here talking doesn’t accomplish anything.”

  “What if we walk all this way and there’s no car dealer? No hotels. What then?” Leecy asked.

  “We figure it out,” I said. “This is what it was like back before smart phones, iPads and the Internet. This is what it was like when I was an operator with the CIA. The information I received wasn’t always accurate. I had to improvise. I had to adapt to the situation. I was forced to think for myself and solve problems and find solutions that weren’t always apparent. Same thing with your mom and her time with the Mossad,” I said.

  We caught up to Valerie at the intersection of the dirt road and the asphalt of the main drag and turned left. I could see the edge of the expanded East Park no more than a block away.

  “The town has expanded. Looks like a car lot dead ahead. We’ll be driving in less than thirty minutes.”

  “What? You’re just going to walk onto the lot and buy a car?” Leecy asked. “Won’t we look weird wearing these packs? Won’t that draw unwanted attention?”

  “In any other town maybe, but not here,” Valerie answered.

  “Why is that?”

  “I read an article one time detailing Georgia’s hiking trails. There was a section about the trails around East Park. The article mentioned how common it was for hikers to be seen crossing the streets of the small town and eating at the local diners. So, I don’t think we’ll stand out at all. And as far as buying a car is concerned, all the dealer will care about is the cash in my hand.”

  “Well okay, then,” Leecy said. “When do I get to hear the rest of the story?”

  Checking her watch, Val said, “It’s almost 6:00 p.m. Let’s get the car and some food. When we find a hotel we can talk some more.”

  I was checking my cell phone reception. I had three bars, but no calls. I looked up to see Valerie watching me and shook my head. She turned and walked the last hundred yards to the first used car dealer on the block and as she did she said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I dropped my pack on the grass and sat down next to it. Leecy joined me, and together we watched Valerie enter the small office of the used car dealer. My eyes drifted from the building, looking further down the road. I could see fast food joints, mini-marts, and gas stations.

  The sound of an approaching car caught my attention. I looked up to see a brown 1990’s Oldsmobile Delta 88 sedan roll to a stop in front of us. I grabbed my pack and climbed in the backseat, because Leecy was already opening the door for the front passenger seat.

  “How much?”

  “Twelve hundred dollars. I figure the car will last a month,” Valerie answered and then said, “Now, we eat. After dinner, we drive to the Atlanta Airport and find a hotel.”

  Dinner was from Chick-fil-A, not because we loved fast food chicken sandwiches, but because it was the best among a lot of bad choices. We ate grilled chicken sandwiches with whole-wheat buns and drank bottles of water. We shared a protein bar, and each of us ate a banana. The bananas were purchased from a fruit stand next to the gas station where we filled the tank of the Oldsmobile.

  The drive to the Atlanta Airport took longer than expected because of traffic. Leecy was asleep in the front seat by the time we stopped at the Motel 6 south of the airport. Valerie got us a room through the Plexiglas-enclosed check-in window, and then drove us around the hotel to park near, but not in front of, room 121. I grabbed Leecy’s pack from the front seat and carried it along with mine into the room, following Valerie through the door. I returned to the car to carry my sleeping daughter to the room. I placed her on one of the double beds, and Valerie covered her with a blanket. I motioned for Valerie to join me outside the room and she followed me out the door.

  “No word from Wakefield?”

  “Not yet, but it’s early. The CIA is actively checking my operator’s communication designations. But it may take longer than I hoped. We need to talk about what we are going to do if the cavalry doesn’t come.”

  “I don’t see that our plan of action is any different with or w
ithout the CIA. We need to piece the puzzle together. We know five of the players. The two from this morning, Smotherman and Pickett, Agent Porter, Travis Smith and Briggs Smith, but we don’t know if Porter is really FBI or not. Ranger Smith told us Porter was working with someone else, but we don’t know who it is,” Valerie said.

  “Right, and he told us whatever Porter and his partner want, they thought they could get it by kidnapping Leecy. So what does that tell us?”

  “Whatever Porter and his partner are after involves INESCO.”

  “Yep, no other reason to go after Leecy. Smart if you think about it. Your brothers and father would give away the company to save Leecy,” I said.

  “They wouldn’t hesitate. But that doesn’t tell us what Porter and his mystery partner are after. I’d need to access the computers at INESCO to figure that one out.”

  “Okay, so if we hear from Wakefield, maybe she can help us figure out who the mystery partner is and what they want. With all the cell phone and email data being collected and analyzed by government agencies, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some chatter about this somewhere. With a few keyword searches, I bet Wakefield could tell us the answers to our questions.”

  Valerie looked at her watch. “It’s after 8 o’clock, let’s try and sleep. We’ve been up since four this morning. I’ll sleep till midnight if you’ll take the first watch.”

  “Happy to do it,” I said and then added, “I’m sorry your birthday plans didn’t work out the way we wanted them to.”

  Val turned and kissed me full on the lips.

  “I love you. Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault. We can always celebrate my birthday later. I just want to keep Leecy safe.”

  I held her and kissed her again.

  “I love you, too. We’ll keep her safe. There’s nowhere she could be safer than with us. Now get some sleep.”

  Valerie gently closed the door to room 121. I walked over to the Oldsmobile and climbed inside. The car was backed into a parking space at the end of the row of motel rooms. I had an unobstructed view of the parking lot and entrance to the motel. In the distance I could see the interstate, and beyond that, the glow of the busiest airport in the world. I settled in behind the wheel and remembered my CIA training for situations just like this. The trick wasn’t just to stay awake, but to remain alert. I was taught the best way to do that was to focus on the details.

  I started the process by counting the cars in the parking lot. I moved from doing that to the windows of the adjacent motels and counted the number of rooms with lights shining behind pulled curtains. From there, I moved to cars exiting the interstate and then planes taking off from and landing at the airport. I would circle back to the cars in the parking lot eventually and begin the process all over again.

  I was on the third round of my mind game when the phone in my pocket began to vibrate. I pulled the phone from my pocket. I was confident it could only be one person, because only one person had the number for the phone, and without taking my eyes off the black SUV exiting the interstate I said, “Granger. ID number 63682416, code Robert Earl Davenport.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the voice of Agent Tammy Daniel Wakefield said, “I never thought I’d hear from you again as long as I lived, and here you are calling in a code RED, operator in distress. What in the hell are you into?”

  “It’s nice to hear your voice, Tammy, but I’ve got a little problem down here in Georgia,” I said.

  The SUV I was watching turned left after exciting the interstate and drove along the highway access road toward the row of the three motels, one of which was ours. I could see it making a right turn into the parking lot of the first one, where it disappeared from view.

  I relaxed a little and said to Agent Wakefield, “I was hoping to enlist the help of my old agency.”

  “If you mean you want me to help you with the All Points Bulletin you and your wife and daughter have on your heads, that’s a big ask, Ron. I don’t know what you think I can do about that.”

  “If you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll find that the situation is not what it seems to be. There’s more to the story.”

  “There always was where you were concerned. At least that hasn’t changed. Before you enlighten me, answer this one question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Agent Wakefield asked.

  I can’t say I was shocked by the question, but I was surprised. The quid pro quo usually came after the favor had been granted, but I couldn’t argue the point. I didn’t have much to offer in return, but I had an idea of what she wanted.

  “Dealer’s choice.”

  “Well, all right then. Let’s hear your tale, but be forewarned that this conversation is being recorded.”

  I smiled. This felt all too familiar.

  I started at the beginning and told her everything that happened since the morning’s break-in and attempted kidnapping. She listened only. She never spoke, never asked a question. I knew from prior experience that this kind of attention was a good sign. Her silence meant she believed me.

  I was ending the story when the black SUV I’d seen earlier came into sight. I watched it cruise through the parking lot of the motel next door. The SUV moved directly across from my position in the car, so I could see clearly that it had a damaged front right quarter panel. I slid down in my seat in an effort to hide behind the steering wheel. I was able to kick my legs over the center hump into the passenger side foot well and get my head below the steering wheel height. I knew without question the SUV was looking for us, but what I didn’t know was how anyone could’ve found us.

  I had finished the story and hadn’t spoken for a minute, watching the SUV, when Agent Wakefield responded.

  “The Westin downtown. Be here tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I’m in suite 2211.” She paused a minute and then added, “It’ll be good to see you again.”

  “One more thing,” I asked, “have you been tracking the number I gave you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Is it possible to trace a prepaid cell phone?”

  “Better pull the battery from your phone now,” she said quickly, and hung up.

  I flipped the phone over, popped the battery out and removed the SIM card. I returned the dismantled phone to my pocket and was about to open the driver’s side door but stopped, because the black SUV had also stopped. If I opened the door, the interior dome light would come on and most certainly be noticed by whoever was watching.

  I had to turn off the dome light. I had to get to the room where Valerie and Leecy were sleeping. It was only a matter of time before they made their way to the Motel 6 parking lot. I had to act.

  I peered over the steering wheel. The width of the Motel 6 parking lot and a thin grass divider was all that lay between them and the Oldsmobile. The distance was about two hundred feet. I couldn’t risk opening the door. I couldn’t risk reaching for the dome light. I had to assume the occupants had night vision gear and were actively using it. All I could do was wait.

  I heard an engine revving and peered over the steering wheel in time to see the black SUV moving again. I watched it drive the length of the parking lot next door before turning toward the parking lot’s exit. I popped the plastic cap off of the interior dome light and removed the light bulb with my right hand, opening the door with my left. I checked the SUV’s position as I silently closed the car door, and saw its taillights illuminated as it stopped briefly before continuing to turn right. I’d be out of sight of the van for a few seconds. I ran to the room. Inserting the old fashioned key into the lock, I turned the doorknob and stepped inside to find the girls awake and staring out the window.

  “We saw you talking on the phone. Agent Wakefield called. She’s going to meet with us, but we owe her, right?” Valerie said, still looking out the window with Leecy.

  “That’s right, my dear. We meet tomorrow morning at the Westin in downtown Atlanta in suit
e 2211, but right now we need to decide what we’re going to do about the SUV,” I said, and then because it just occurred to me, I asked, “How long have you two been watching me through the window?”

  “Ten minutes,” Leecy said. “Mom spotted the SUV when it exited the highway. I don’t think we have anything to worry about just yet. We need to sit tight. You did remove the battery from your phone, right Dad?”

  “Yes,” I answered, “Better late than never.”

  “They can’t pinpoint our location without the phones. There are hundreds of rooms on this street. I wonder if they were listening to the call as well?”

  “I didn’t think prepaid cellphones could be traced.” I said, “But now I do, and that makes me wonder if they heard everything.”

  “Don’t you read the papers, Dad, or watch the news?” Leecy asked. “The secrets are out. The NSA scandal blew the lid off the government’s cellphone, smartphone tracking and data collection techniques months ago. The old-fashioned trace-and-track gave agencies a location based on cellphone towers, but with smartphone technology the trace-and-track is more exact. Most of the applications on the iPhone generate a location pulse. This constant location signal sent by a smartphone, or map or application to the satellite, pinpoints the exact location of the user, but the cellphones we have don’t have that feature.”

  “Forgive me, I’ve been out of the spy game for a while. The last time I was tasked with a mission was 2007. You’re a lot more up on this than I am, honey.”

  “You’re forgiven. The guys in the SUV are tracing us the old-fashioned way and have a general location for our phones, but not an exact location. That’s why they’re driving around. They’re trying to pinpoint our location. Now that our phones are powered off they might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack. There’s only one way to track a prepaid cellphone like the ones we have. The person or agency doing the tracking must have the phone numbers. That means your contact at the CIA gave you up, the number was obtained from her without her knowledge, or, most likely, the store where we got the phones gave Agent Porter a list of the ones we bought.”