The Harbinger of Change

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  That thought loosened an idea, with the thought of jogging reminding her she needed shoes, desperately. There was a good chance she was going to get discovered driving this obvious-looking tank, and she needed to be able to move on foot if the situation demanded. It was a strength she needed right now, and did not have. She also needed a new car.

  She made a left at Oregon and a right turn onto El Camino. Before she knew it, she was pulling into the Stanford Shopping Center.

  * * *

  Ken Beck and Kirk Rogers were still on the ground at Moffett Airfield in Sunnyvale when the news broke. They took the call together. As soon as they hung up, they burst into individual action. They roused all the troops and sounded all the alarms, concealing their knowledge that this was the worst possible news. Some probable Foreign National had gotten their hands on top-secret, weapons technology of the highest classified level. The very reason they were visiting Westinghouse today wasn’t to fret over things they didn’t know anything about, but to fret over what they did know about!

  Unbeknownst to Westinghouse, they had James Haberman working on some projects that might have been worth losing a block over, if they ever thought there was a real chance of those files being compromised. Now they were fucked. One thing was for sure: they’d rather be anyone in the world other than this Nancy Chavez. There was no rock she was ever going to be able to hide under again. She was going to be the most hunted person in the world.

  * * *

  Matt Hurst was working another closing shift, and he was tired. Since Jan had been prescribed bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, his life had been a non-stop, pile of shit. Matt had left Macy’s as a Loss Prevention Agent to become the Loss Prevention Manager of a new, posh women’s clothing store called Stor.

  He had been promised the world, as far as what security devices he would be allowed to implement, because the store management had wanted a strong security department. For the most part, they had been true to their word. Matt had a lot of say-so in where certain high-end items were placed, and nothing of any real value was displayed near the exits. He set the price guidelines for sensor tagging and most importantly, he decided where the surveillance cameras would be placed.

  They had also been kind with the electronic surveillance tools (his toys), and that made his job so much more fun. The drawback was that they expected the long hours, and didn’t much care about his problems at home.

  Most people believe that shoplifters account for the majority of a store’s losses. However, that isn’t actually true. As a matter of fact, at least seventy-five percent of any store’s losses are attributed to employee theft. Although he missed catching shoplifters at times (he had people for that now), Matt worked hard and took to working employee cases like a duck to water.

  But not tonight, though. Tonight he was doing it all. His closing agent had called off the only night he had low coverage, of course.

  He had already received two voice messages from Jan. The first was “angry Jan” the other was “whiney Jan.” Augh, if this is what parenthood is really going to be like, then my new mantra needs to be “just shoot me now.” Matt remembered it wasn’t always like this. They used to laugh, have fun, and fuck like animals. But ever since she had discovered that she was pregnant, she’d had this kind of blame thing going on, all because the timing wasn’t perfect and neither was the protection they used. What the hell, I’ll face the music after my pastrami sandwich from Togo’s.

  At six-two, two hundred and twenty pounds, he wasn’t much of a salad eater. Despite his big frame, he was quite the accomplished tennis player and was used to hearing the quote, “How the hell do you move that fast?” He unwrapped his sandwich and turned to the monitors. He wasn’t always going to do this gig. He had plans to be a homicide detective, and he truly believed that the things he learned at this stage could only help him later.

  God, I love Togo’s, but the douche bag put freaking mustard on my sandwich. He looked at the message light on his phone and shoved it into his pocket so that he couldn’t see it. Damn it, does it ever get any better?

  When he turned back, he saw her right away—but not as a potential shoplifter. Matt Hurst was looking at a woman who might have been the most beautiful he’d ever seen. She was absolutely stunning.

  * * *

  Agents Joe Raley and Max Lozida of DHS got the high-priority alerts on their phones simultaneously while they were sitting in the same car pulling out of their Sunnyvale subdivision. The alert had the location of the initial crime reported as the address of a company called Conceptual Laboratories in Sunnyvale. The suspect had now moved off their premises, and was last seen heading south on Central Expressway. Next, their phones buzzed with their orders. They both noted that Rogers himself was in charge of this, and they were to head north via El Camino Real.

  Their instructions were to be on the lookout for a Nancy Chavez, who was driving a stolen Hummer owned by Bill Westinghouse, Owner and CEO of Conceptual Labs. Chavez was wanted in the murder of three people and the attempted murder of at least two others. The main story had been suppressed from the mainstream media for now, but that was only a temporary situation.

  The word from Rogers was, “we have to find this girl fast!” They were now headed up El Camino Real toward San Francisco, as they were instructed to do in their scenario, eyes peeled.

  * * *

  Matt found her to be literally breathtaking. He could watch her shop all day. Yet she did seem to be in a bit of a hurry, so he feared that this treat would end all too soon. She also seemed to be hiding something. It was a little voyeuristic he was sure, but damn, this girl and a pastrami sandwich (even with the horrid mustard) are as good as it gets.

  As she wove her way through the clothing rounders, he saw something that troubled him: she was barefoot. Now that’s interesting, he thought as he swallowed. Barefoot, huh? Why barefoot?

  Matt considered that perhaps she was one of those “earthy” girls; but he soon concluded she was too clean cut, too well groomed. Maybe her feet hurt, so she took off her shoes? Matt had known many women to do that on occasion. In an effort to remain unbiased, he allowed that she had probably given them to the register girl to hold. The camera followed her silently as she went into the shoe department. Maybe her shoes were damaged? Matt kept spinning positive as she made a quick selection of some running shoes and went into the fitting room. The attendant was on break, as usual, whenever Matt needed help.

  * * *

  Joe was small-talking like he did whenever he got nervous and needed to think. Max was just the opposite, and it made for some tense partner moments at times. This was one of them.

  “Joe, pipe it,” Max said. “I’m trying to think. You’re doing it again.”

  “Sorry,” was Joe’s only response. He wasn’t. He just moved to mumbling his thoughts and looking out the window. Then he looked down at his smart phone and came up with something new to say, “Looks like Westinghouse was able to show our team on site her car before the ambulance sped him off to emergency surgery. They found an escape identity and her clothes in the car, including her running shoes.”

  “Okay, Joe, why do you have that look?”

  “They also said they found her work shoes in the stairwell.”

  “Yeah,” said Max, annoyed again at the way Joe was dragging out his thought.

  “Well, what if she wanted to get to San Fran, like our scenario has it, but she wants to get some shoes first?”

  “Joe, she has no money, no shoes, she’s scared shitless and you’re telling me she’s going to break off to go shopping?”

  Joe smiled, “Well technically, she would probably be shoplifting. Maybe she saw that movie with the guy in the tower, he sure wished he had shoes.”

  “You mean Die Hard? You’re nuts!”

  “Well, the next corner is the Stanford Shopping Center, it will take ten minutes to tour the parking lot and then I will be free for you to ridicule at will.”

  Max knew bette
r than to fight this guy’s hunches. Not that many of them turn out to be shit, but Joe was a person that could not be deterred once he was on a path he believed to be righteous. Plus, it was fun to push his buttons when he was wrong.

  Both of them being early in their careers, and both being single, they often hung out together after work, much like brothers. A lot of people said they looked like brothers, both being around six feet, with similar weights and both having brown hair. Tonight they had plans to go to the Giants baseball game, which was why they were in civilian clothes. Max turned his left blinker on and merged into the turn lane.

  * * *

  Matt was getting impatient. Although he knew that the subjects were in there, sometimes it seemingly took years for them to exit the fitting rooms. There she was. She was out and wearing a new outfit, but she wasn’t carrying her old clothes. Really? There is no way this girl is stealing, no way! If the attendant were there, this would be a no brainer. He would call and have her check the stalls. But with her gone, he would not have time to check because he was working the suspect alone.

  She worked her way through some racks of clothing and got into the line, which was about four people long. Once there, she started to wait. Matt was very relieved. Oftentimes, people’s odd shopping behavior was just that, odd to the average person or random agent watching. He relaxed and resumed his voyeuristic lunch break, really mesmerized by this woman. She is so exotic.

  Then he saw it, that quick furtive movement of the eyes that every shoplifter does out of compulsion. They just can’t help themselves, and it usually happens right before an action. He just couldn’t believe it as she broke off the line and headed for the door not a minute later. The clerk was over-engaged and calling for help.

  * * *

  Joe just about punched Max’s arm right out of the socket when they turned the corner and spotted the Hummer parked in the number one spot at a place called Stor.

  “No fucking way!” exclaimed Max. “Let’s call it in and get the troops here, so we can bring this bitch down!”

  Joe slapped his hand off the mic. “Are you kidding me dude? We have a chance to become household names and you’re going to call for backup? Really?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Max said.

  Joe chastised, “Listen, if we can’t take this one chick ourselves, then we should turn in our badges and our man cards right now. Now let’s go take this bitch down before she gets some shoes.”

  * * *

  Matt waited to make his move until he saw her just about to exit the east side door, which he noted was the furthest from his office. His stomach growled, and he realized this was not the best time to have just wolfed down half a pastrami sandwich. Damn, there she goes, so now it’s the hundred-yard pastrami dash to get her. Thank you, Agent Charles, for getting a cold.

  In such instances where he was pursuing a shoplifter, Matt had found it faster to exit the door closest to his office and do his sprinting outside the building rather than running through the store, which was often rife with obstacles. It seemed to take forever; but when he rounded the corner of the building, what he encountered in the parking lot was not what he had expected. His perpetrator had now become an apparent victim of an armed robbery at the very least, and probably a kidnapping to boot.

  * * *

  After the initial elation of being the last man standing, Julio Manuel realized that maybe he wasn’t, and he went back into hiding for another ten minutes. Nothing. Not a sound.

  Julio decided that nothing risked was nothing gained. He decided to go for the truck, which also happened to be loaded with most of the coca. He moved swiftly, but not in a panic, for nothing good came from panic, although he was suppressing it with all his might as he came down the embankment into the mid-neck area of the bottle. The jungle man lay sprawled, a scoped rifle by his side. Jesus, that guy moved right in front of me and I never even saw him. I am so lucky to be alive.

  The next scene was straight out of Hell. It was terrifying, with so many headless bodies, and this horrid brain spray everywhere. Coupled with the riddled bodies of the mules everywhere (both the animal and human variety), it was so overwhelming. Julio began to retch uncontrollably again.

  Still dry heaving, he got into the Hummer. Unbelievably, it had the keys in it and it started. He thought he saw a shot to disable the engine, but as it turned out, one of the sniper’s headshots was through the hood of the jeep.

  Before he knew it, Julio was out of the trap that had killed twenty men. But now what? Then another thought occurred to him: Now I’m a killer of men, and my mother and father will never forgive me for sacrificing my place in heaven with them for drug money. That was a troubling thought. Then he had an idea. Yes, a good idea at that! He headed back to Quito, if I’m going to Hell then I’m going to do it in style.

  * * *

  Matt came in hard and fast on the blindside, and nailed assailant number one, who was holding a gun on his female suspect at four feet. The other had a hold of her from behind. Matt hit the man very hard, and they went down, yet the man didn’t drop his gun, to Matt’s surprise. Now he was in a life-or-death struggle to get control, and his opponent was very strong.

  As they quarreled on the ground, Matt observed the other male perpetrator. He had the girl in a choke hold now, with one arm around her neck. His free hand was aiming a gun at Matt’s head, trying to get a clear shot.

  When Matt saw the gun aimed at him, he had a massive adrenaline surge and rolled over, forcing the suspect he was grappling with to raise his gun up. Then with all his might, Matt forced a shot out by squeezing the culprit’s hand with the trigger finger trapped inside the guard.

  Joe Raley never knew what hit him. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Max saw the shot erupt from his gun. He grappled with Matt for a second more; then Max Lozida seized control and did what he was trained to do. With a series of deft moves, he disabled Matt to the point where he was able to spin and shoot, which he did without hesitation.

  Matt heard and felt the concussion of the shot, but he was still alive. He saw Agent Max Lozida of Homeland Security drop to his knees, his arms moving spasmodically in a way that told Matt he was not alive anymore. Matt confirmed this with one look at his opponent’s face, which was missing the right eye.

  When the body fell, it revealed his female shoplift suspect. She was holding the second assailant’s gun and was lying on her back on the ground. She saved my life! The only problem is, why is she pointing the gun at me now?

  * * *

  Julio got back to base, pulled into their electronically-controlled private yard, and parked the Hummer in the warehouse. He realized that before his group embarked on this grab for power, his brethren had left a calling card in Quito with the impact of a “death squad.” The people were terrified of them now. Since he was the organization’s face on the streets, no one was going to know that he was not protected anymore.

  All he had to do was act the part and he should be able to sell the coca without fear of being ripped off. After all, no one wanted to end up like Los Pequeños Locos. He’d heard some of them were even scalped.

  True to form, the people bought it hook, line, and sinker. Julio sold the coca in just six months. Then he disappeared, just like that.

  He moved to Guayaquil and started a new life a very rich man, a rich man who kept to himself and his concubines. He settled on three.

  Pablo came out of his dream-state and wished he could go back and impart one thought into his uncle’s head at that time: Leave the coca and run.

  * * *

  Matt didn’t have long to shake off the cobwebs before he found out why she was pointing the gun at him. She was now addressing him sternly.

  “Where’s your car? You’re driving me out of here!”

  “The fuck I am lady!” The bullet’s ricochet was five inches from his right hand on the ground. People had come out of the neighboring stores, but now ran back inside terrified. Matt picked
up his hand. It burned from the minute pebbles left from the bullet hitting the asphalt.

  “The next shot is through your head and I dig the fucking keys out of your pocket myself!”

  “Look lady, what you did here was self-defense. As far as the shoplifting goes, that never happened. You saved my life!”

  Vera looked at him as harshly as possible, trying to impart the seriousness of his situation.

  “Listen to me: you are my prisoner. If you open your mouth one more time when I didn’t ask you to, I will kill you immediately! Do you understand me?”

  Matt shook his head in agreement.

  “Are you married?”

  “Yes,” he said, “I never wear my ring at work.”

  “Good. If you ever want to see your wife again, get up, get your keys out, and get us out of here right now!”

  Matt could barely hear her over the ringing in his head. Damn, guns were loud. He had heard enough to know he was temporarily screwed though, so he got to his feet and broke for his car, undoing the alarm as they approached. The last two minutes of his life had been so intense and surreal that he could swear this could only happen in a movie.

  Vera was making a habit out of suddenly changing lives in ways that could never be undone. She decided on Stockton, since she knew that the international airports were dead. Even with a disguise, things would be so heavily scrutinized that she would stand little chance. Who knew how much footage of her they would choose to release. She commanded him to get to the San Mateo Bridge, warning him that if he tried to pretend that he didn’t know where things were, she was going to end him.

  Matt thought he detected a Spanish accent just then. This is getting interesting, once you get past the terror. He transitioned from Highway 101 to Highway 92 East. Soon he could see the mass of people that was the East Bay from the top span of the bridge. He could also see the road ahead all the way across the Bay. As luck would have it, the normal traffic was nonexistent. They were soon past the Oakland Hills and heading out of immediate Bay Area.