An Unlikely Phoenix

by Frank Zafiro

  It was the clean smell of Nathalie’s shampoo that told him the truth of it. The fragrance wafted across him, and brought an immediate smile to his face. He shuffled forward and into the living room. Nathalie was there, and Melina. Both of them sprang off the couch and into his arms. Ryan went to his knees and embraced them both. All three of them spoke at once, crying, and laughing.

  After a while, he collected himself and rose to his feet. Wayne stood in the doorway, watching them. A sad smile was painted across his face. “You can’t stay,” he said. “This is an agency safe house. There’s no way to know when another agent might bring someone here. We’ve risked it as long as we can. We have to go.”

  Ryan nodded, and turned to his wife and daughter. “Get your things.”

  Nathalie smiled at him, and Melina giggled. “You’re looking at everything,” she told him. “We don’t have anything else.”

  Ryan smiled back. “Well, we’ve got each other. That’s the most important thing.”

  WAYNE DROPPED THEM off near the public library. When he stopped the car in the alley behind the old building, Nathalie and Melina got out. Wayne stopped Ryan, putting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and apologizing. “I couldn’t get ID for either of them,” he said. “There just wasn’t time.”

  “You got them to a safe place. That’s more than most people would do in the same circumstances.”

  Wayne shrugged. “It was a risk, but not as much as you might think.” He motioned toward Nathalie. “She’s smart. She was careful about how she contacted me. Her email was disguised as spam, and the location they were hiding at was encoded in the message.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow. “My wife’s a cryptographer?” he joked.

  “Don’t be too impressed. If anyone suspects, they’ll be able to see right through it. But it had to be a little bit obvious to catch my attention. She used your old operator name to manage that. Which, by the way, you weren’t supposed to share with anyone for seventy-five years. Classified intelligence and all that.”

  “She seduced me,” Ryan said.

  “I always figured you’d crack under pressure, Derrick.” He squeezed Ryan’s shoulder. “So don’t get caught, huh?”

  “Aye-aye, sir. And thank you.”

  The two men didn’t speak for another moment, then Wayne clapped his shoulder. Wordlessly, Ryan got out of the car. Wayne immediately pulled away.

  “Everything all right?” Nathalie asked.

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah.” He pointed to the library. “You and Melina wait inside. I’ll go up the street and gets us a car.”

  Nathalie didn’t argue. She took Melina by the hand and headed into the library. Ryan walked down the alley and around the street corner to an independent car rental agency. He went through the mundane motions of renting a blue, four door sedan, wondering all the time if his identification would hold up, or if the BitCoin card would work. Every action the sales clerk took had him brimming with suspicion, but in the end, the man handed him the keys and beckoned him outside for an inspection of the vehicle.

  Ryan forced himself to walk through the process, then thanked the man and drove away. He found Nathalie and Melina at the library, and they headed west on a secondary road. Ryan felt naked without his phone, and Nathalie had dumped her tablet at Wayne’s direction, but at least the car had a navigation program. Unfortunately, it kept trying to route him to the interstate, so he finally exited the guidance feature and just used the system for its map.

  In the back seat, Melina fell asleep, and next to him, Nathalie seemed to be fading as well. He drove for another two hours to the outskirts of Kansas City before he started looking for a motel with the BitCoin symbol in the window next to MasterCard, Visa, AmEx, and Paypal. He found one called “The Straight Six” next to a strip mall, and pulled in. Melina didn’t wake up, even after he checked them in and carried her into the room. He slid off her shoes while Nathalie drew back the covers, and Ryan put his daughter to bed. Nathalie covered her gently, then sat on the edge of the other bed.

  Ryan sat next to her. He didn’t say anything, and she remained silent as well. They stared at each other for a long while, through the fear, the exhaustion, and the relief. Then she leaned into him, putting her head against his chest and throat, and Ryan held her that way until her breath evened out and she fell asleep. Then he slowly lay backward on the bed, cradling her all the way, and finally succumbed to sleep himself.

  Chapter 26

  I’m running down the road

  Darkness up ahead but even more behind

  I’m carrying a heavy load

  And an even heavier mind

  But I’ve still got faith in someone

  And tomorrow, oh tomorrow is yet come

  — Nate Crider, as quoted in An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO Reno, Ryan thought. It sounded like a classic Johnny Cash song, or maybe something Nate Crider would write today. He could almost imagine the blues licks over a montage of the three of them driving across America. It painted a much happier picture than what he faced now.

  They filled up with gas at an independent station that accepted the BitCoin card. While Ryan pumped, Nathalie went inside the small convenience store for supplies. Once on the road, they ate breakfast burritos and sipped coffee without a word. Even Melina remained unusually quiet, staring out the window as the landscape scrolled past.

  Ryan kept the car radio on, tuned to a news station. They listened carefully to the news reports until the station faded into static, then scanned for another. He wished he’d thought to remember getting satellite radio when he’d rented the car, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered. Even with the customary bland and careful reporting of the mainstream media, it was clear to him that there was conflict at the highest level of government.

  “That’s a good thing,” he told Nathalie.

  “How is a crisis like this a good thing?”

  “It means Potulny and the people he works for have more important things to worry about than finding us.”

  “You hope,” she said, her tone dubious.

  “Hope isn’t a plan,” Melina said absently from the back seat.

  Ryan smiled. “But we can always hope.”

  Occasionally, when they scanned the AM band, which had been virtually abandoned in the last decade, they picked up a renegade station that broadcasted for the better part of an hour before ceasing suddenly. Nathalie found the effect disconcerting, wondering aloud if they were shut down by government forces.

  “I don’t think so,” Ryan said. “I think they limit the time that they broadcast so that their location can’t be triangulated.”

  Nathalie nodded that it made sense, but then turned back to the window, and they remained silent again for a long while.

  As night fell, they reached the outskirts of Denver. They debated whether to push on or find a place to sleep for the night.

  “You’re exhausted,” Nathalie said.

  “I’m tired,” he admitted. “But not exhausted.”

  “Well, Melina is. We should find a motel.”

  Ryan hesitated. “I think we should push on. If Potulny had put out a warrant for our arrest, then we won’t be safe until we get to California.” If it is even safe there, he thought, but didn’t add. Instead, he said, “The sooner we get there, the better.”

  “We won’t get there if you fall asleep and drive off the road.”

  Ryan looked at her, wanting to say that this was the way things were when the operation was ongoing. Sleep was a luxury until the mission was complete. You push through, and you complete the mission. But she was a journalist, not a soldier, and he wasn’t sure she’d truly understand.

  “All right,” he relented. “We’ll get a room. But only for a few hours. Six, at most. Then we move on.”

  She didn’t argue.

  Ryan found a gas station that accepted BitCoin and started to fill the tank. Nathalie and Melina went into the restroom while he pumped. As he
stood, his hand perched on the gasoline nozzle, a state patrol cruiser pulled into the lot and slid up the same island, stopping immediately opposite him.

  A shot of adrenaline spiked through Ryan’s tired body, but he tried to remain nonchalant. When the driver exited the police car and snapped her round campaign in place, Ryan tensed slightly. Scenarios flitted through his weary mind.

  Did she know? Or was she just here to get gas and a cup of coffee?

  When she didn’t immediately confront him and instead put the gas nozzle into her fuel tank, he knew that she wasn’t aware of his identity yet. Still, if Potulny sent out an all-points bulletin, their descriptions would be included. His Robert Hall identification might hold up to a cursory inspection, but if someone was actually looking for them, how many unique indicators were there? A white man traveling with a black woman and their young daughter? Plus his scars and injuries were as good as identifiers as his face.

  He avoided looking at the trooper, then started to become self-conscious of this avoidance, so he glanced over at her. She was looking at him, her face a familiar professional visage, a mirror of what Nathalie called his own “cop face.” It betrayed nothing.

  Ryan gave her a simple nod of acknowledgement, and after a moment, she returned the gesture with a curt nod of her own. He returned to pumping his gas, hoping that Nathalie saw the police car when she left the restroom and waited for the trooper to leave before returning to the car. Neither of them had identification, so if the trooper asked for some, his hand would be forced. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hurt a police officer. And he didn’t want to turn the pursuit of them suddenly hot. They were still too far from California for that to end well.

  He heard the door to the convenience store ding as it opened, and he glanced up to see Nathalie walking out with Melina. She was leaning down and whispering in their daughter’s ear, unaware of what stood next to the island. Ryan tensed, hoping he wasn’t putting off vibes that would alert the trooper.

  Nathalie reached the car and helped Melina inside the back seat. Then she opened the front door. Only then did she catch sight of the police car and the trooper pumping gas. To her credit, she didn’t lurch in surprise. Her eyes flared open slightly, and she glanced quickly at Ryan. He silently begged her to just get into the car. If the trooper tried to stop them, he could get in the car and flee. His rental car was no match for the police cruiser, but at least he’d have a head start.

  The gas pump clicked off, signaling the tank was full. Ryan removed it carefully and replaced the nozzle. Because he was facing her and it seemed natural, he gave the stone-faced trooper another nod. She was still watching him, but he couldn’t tell if she harbored any suspicion or not.

  When he turned away, she spoke. “Sir?”

  Ryan craned his neck over his shoulder, giving her an expectant look while he tensed his body for action. “Yes?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Why?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Then she said, “Just checking.”

  “Well, thanks. But everything’s fine.”

  She watched him carefully for a few moments before giving him a slow nod. “All right, then. Have a good evening, sir.”

  “You, too, officer,” he said, opening the car door. He could feel her eyes on him as he slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and put the car in gear. Carefully, he pulled out of the lot and onto the road. He didn’t look over his shoulder or glance in the rear-view mirror until he was two blocks away. When he didn’t see any red and blue lights behind them, he heaved a sigh of relief. Then he glanced over at Nathalie.

  “Forget the motel,” he said.

  She nodded in agreement. “But at least let me drive.”

  He considered, then nodded. “Let me get us a little ways outside of Denver, and then we’ll switch.”

  They didn’t, though. Ryan drove for hours, through the remainder of the night and into the day. Nathalie didn’t argue and eventually she stole a few hours of reluctant sleep. Finally, after passing through Colorado and Utah, he pulled into a rest stop just inside of Nevada, where he stretched his hip and back. He handed Nathalie the keys and she handed him a small black phone.

  “I bought it at the convenience store,” she explained. “It’s a pre-paid. I thought you might want to call your brother.”

  Ryan smiled at her. “Thanks, babe.”

  She squeezed his hand and got into the car. Ryan thought about calling Alex’s private number but wondered about Wayne’s warning. They might be monitoring, and he didn’t want to put his brother in danger, at least not when he wasn’t there in person to protect him.

  That thought made him smile ruefully. With his hip, he was going to physically protect Alex? For the first time since they were kids, the reverse was more likely. And considering that Potulny almost certainly filed charges against him, it would take Alex’s political influence to protect him on that front, too.

  So instead, he dialed Alex’s public number. When the staffer answered, “Senator Derrick’s Office,” he hesitated. Then he asked, “Can I speak with the Senator?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. The Senator is unavailable. May I take a message? I can’t guarantee that he’ll call you back, but I can assure you that he reads all of his messages.”

  Ryan considered, then said, “This is his college friend, Brayden Schenn,” he said. “Will you let him know I’m coming to town and I’d like to see him for dinner?”

  “I will, sir,” the staffer replied dutifully. “When will you be here?”

  “In the next day or two,” Ryan said. “Will you make sure he get the message?”

  “Certainly, sir.” The staffer confirmed his name, then added, “I can’t guarantee that he’ll have availability while you’re here but I’ll pass on the message.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said, and hung up. Despite the staffer’s promise, he didn’t know if Alex would get the message or not. But he’d tried, and that would have to be enough.

  Ryan settled into the passenger seat.

  “Did you talk to him?” Nathalie asked.

  “I left a message for him. He’ll understand.” Ryan adjusted the seat until he got it reclined into a position that was vaguely comfortable, and then he tried to sleep.

  At first, he thought it would be impossible. Thoughts of the state trooper intruded, and he wondered what Potulny might be doing to catch them. The possibilities haunted him. But the drone of the road finally seeped into him, and he dropped into a dark sleep, plagued by dark dreams.

  Chapter 27

  In the early morning hours of one of the longest days in the Sarandon governorship, a staffer reportedly asked the Governor if she was certain she was doing the right thing. The Governor’s reply may or may not be factual, but it has become a symbolic truth, if not a literal one.

  “When has welcoming people home ever not been the right thing?”

  — From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  ALEX WATCHED GOVERNOR Sarandon with growing awe. Each conversation she engaged in seemed more masterful, more powerful. Moreover, she performed this feat in front of a small crowd of advisors. If he’d ever had any doubt regarding her ability to lead, it vanished as the night wore on.

  When she ended the vid-call with the Governor of Oregon, she sank back in her seat. Exhaustion suddenly creased her features. Without asking, Alex rose and retrieved a glass of water from the mini-bar and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, Alex,” she said, taking the glass with a smile.

  “Four for four,” he said, and gave her the thumbs up.

  The Governor took a sip of the water, then nodded. “I wasn’t sure about Oregon. That’s why I saved that call for last.”

  “Well...” Alex said. “Not last.”

  She smiled wearily. “I think I’ll take a short break before making that particular call.”

  “It’s already almost midnight on the east coast,” h
e said.

  “They’ll wake him for me,” she replied. “Trust me.” She turned to Keaton. “Paul, have you lined up the media release?”

  Keaton nodded. “Yes, Madame Governor. The stations have all been advised that you’ll be making a statement.”

  “Not just the mainstream outlets?”

  “We’ve included everyone Ebby suggested,” Keaton said.

  “Good,” the Governor said, taking another drink and nodding her approval. “I just need a few minutes, and then I’ll call the President. Immediately after that, we’ll address the media.”

  “An address which hopefully isn’t interrupted by tactical nukes,” General Braddock said wryly.

  The Governor gave him a tired look. “If that happens, at least I’ll be spared some ridiculous questions from Fox News,” she joked, but the delivery fell flat. She sighed. “Let’s all take a short break, and reconvene?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alex poured himself a glass of water and took the opportunity to page through his text messages from his office. There was the usual fare for the first few, then he stopped hard on one.

  Your college friend, Brayden Schenn, is coming to town in the next day or two and would like to meet for dinner. Should we schedule it?

  “Holy shit,” Alex muttered. There was only one person who would invoke the name of the long-time St. Louis Blues center.

  “What is it?” Braddock asked him.

  Alex looked up. “It’s my brother,” he said. “He’s coming to California. He’s on his way.”

  Braddock gave him a look of concern. “Well, he better hurry.”

  “I know,” Alex said. “I know.”

  Chapter 28

  Throughout time, the exact words of many leaders during pivotal events have become shrouded in myth. Historical accuracy has given way to paraphrase which has evolved into convenient legends told by the victors. History is replete with examples of this. However, in some instances, what reads as myth or revision for the sake of propriety is actually an accurate depiction of what was said. For example, when American General Anthony McAuliffe of the 101st Airborne responded to the German demand at Bastogne that he surrender, his one word-reply of “Nuts” was truly what the man said, despite later assertions by some that it was a less profane paraphrase of his actual reply.