The Harbinger of Change

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  After about an hour of traveling at a steady 65 miles per hour, the radio stopped playing news and broadcasted something unexpected. The announcer said that there was a message from the President of the United States. That snapped her out of her thoughts, and she focused on what came next.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen of the United States of America, I come to you now as the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, as well as your President and fellow American. I have thought long and hard about the best way to handle this situation, and I have decided not to box out the very people that elected me, the people that can help the most, and that is you. What I’m calling for is simply for America to turn into an episode of America’s Most Wanted for the next forty-eight hours. The incident in Sunnyvale, California was more than just a robbery and string of murders. It was an act of high treason at the very least, or an act of war at the most.

  “Unfortunately, like 9/11, we don’t know who attacked us yet. But we do know that they stole some very important pieces of research and microchips that will not only set us back years in our defense industry, but could be used against us later as well.

  “We already know the woman known as Nancy Chavez, was a hostile agent placed into Conceptual Labs for the purpose of espionage. It is not known if she is a foreign or domestic agent, but we now believe that alleged kidnap victim, Matt Hurst, was an accomplice in the crime as well, not a victim. The two have already killed five people and seriously wounded a sixth, so it is imperative that we apprehend these two individuals immediately.

  “I’m calling for the largest manhunt in the history of this Great Nation, and I’m using every means available to me as Commander-in-Chief to accomplish it, including the military, all law enforcement branches, and you, the citizens of this country. By and large, someone, somewhere, will see these two fugitives, because they couldn’t have just vanished. TSA and Homeland Security are certain they did not exit the country via public or private transit. So that means that they’re still in the Northwest, possibly driving a new vehicle.

  “Now please, this is a serious situation. Reports need to be accurate, and we don’t want any citizen engaging them. Most of us have cell phones, so let’s put them to work. Like after 9/11, let’s all put aside our petty issues, and focus on the continued survival of our nation.

  “Now I’m not saying that if someone got this technology, it would lead to an immediate attack on us, but your children and grandchildren may not be able to make that statement. So please, let’s all come together to stop this and prove to the world that no matter our differences, we always come together as a people when we have to.

  “I also have a message for any country that is thinking about harming us. You don’t need to attack us to get our attention. If you have a voice, then we’ll listen, but if you have a sword, then we’ll fight. If you threaten our freedom, then you’ve woken the sleeping giant, and whoever has perpetrated this has certainly woken us up. As this investigation proceeds, I will be honest and forthright with you, the American Citizens. There will be many questions asked in the coming months, as well as many answers given. Now let’s work together to resolve this, and prove once again why we are truly the Greatest Nation on Earth. God bless us all, and God bless America. Goodnight.”

  Holy shit! That was the most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. Vera knew some people were going to be mad, but she didn’t know how mad. Well, maybe she did, but she was hoping to be sipping wine and loving her man as she heard it all unfold, so they could laugh together at the fools while clinking glasses.

  She was seemingly trapped, feeling vulnerable and confused, when she caught the back seat on a glance. He was awake and heard the radio—interesting. She knew the dose used to sedate him was low, and he would be coming around soon, but he had recovered more quickly than she expected.

  As she passed Sacramento, she thought, this really is a big place with a lot of people, so just calm down and hide in plain sight, be cool. She made the call with more than a little trepidation.

  “My Love,” was the answer on the other end. “Well, as you can see and hear, I made a mess of things.” (Pablo taught her about trigger words that are picked up by the government. They used to study a list of hundreds, so she was trained not to say gun or bomb).

  “That’s not true. You’re still around and able to call from one of the phones, which means you’re resourceful. Which safe house did you choose?”

  “Number Three,” she said.

  His reply was, “Oh.” But his disappointment was evident. Stockton had been the third choice for a reason. San Francisco was the first choice because it had more possible escape routes.

  “Pablo, I tried,” she said with her voice weak and breaking, “but I was sure they would look there first, or catch me trying to get there even, especially after the Palo Alto thing.”

  Silence. “Where’s your paquete?”

  With Pablo, Vera had learned it was pointless to act incredulous when he said things that he shouldn’t or couldn’t know. In this case, it was common knowledge, but regardless, she had learned long ago that she should just answer the questions succinctly and sort out the whys later.

  “Secured in the back seat.”

  “That’s not expected. Why did you bother with that?”

  “I wasn’t sure what to do and decided not to make this call near the shed, in case they got lucky and tracked us. Also, I don’t want any more death on my hands, and he would have died in there.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on Highway 50 just outside of Sacramento, on my way to Tahoe.”

  “That wasn’t in our plan anymore, we never even had time to finalize things.”

  “Neither was the President coming on and bringing down the whole country on us, Pablo! The plan has changed!” Her voice was building to a more confident level.

  Pablo smiled on the other end of the phone. She didn’t know it, but he had trained her right out of the KGB handbook he had acquired easily from a third party in North Africa, a trip that had yielded a very interesting encounter with an ex-KGB agent named Vlad Korzinin.

  Pablo had instilled all the necessary traits into her, including skill at threat assessment and reconfiguring game plans when needed. Her decisiveness proved that she was an amazing woman, capable of learning, capable of change, but most importantly, capable of making hard decisions when the time came. That was a trait that couldn’t be taught, and it was the only true way of knowing who one’s partner was under fire. Just like there was no way of truly knowing someone until one has lived with them. Therefore, Pablo adjusted his stern attitude and addressed her in a more loving manner. “Tell me about your plan,” he said.

  * * *

  Jan Hurst was sitting and watching the TV with her jaw wide open. There’s no way! She was under house arrest in a safe location. Because she was on bed rest, they had had to make some accommodations, so they had gotten her one of those really comfy recliners—one that was as good as a bed, according to the doctor who checked her out when she arrived. They moved her here because “there was obvious concern for her safety,” was their tag line. The daughter of a Teamsters boss, she was not ignorant on how evil the government could be, and now this?

  Jan felt like she was snared in something out of a movie. Her big worry was that neither she nor her baby would ever see true freedom again, at least based on the information she had heard. Of course, she had no knowledge of anything going on, but they would never believe that. If they couldn’t find it, they’d create it, Jan was sure. Thanks to the Patriot Act, she was never getting out of here. Why Matt though? Was he the next Oswald, some unlikely patsy in someone else’s game?

  She didn’t know for sure what was going on, but she was sure that Matt had nothing to do with it. Sure, they had drifted apart a little, but only because she blamed him for her unplanned pregnancy and for putting her career path on hold. She had been one summer away from starting grad school, and getting into Arizona State was not easy.
So she was angry, but he knew that she loved him, she was sure of it. She also knew the man and he hated lying. He would have just left her if he was so unhappy.

  Matt was a very confident man, not codependent in the slightest. No, this was something else, something unplanned, and now they were wrapped up in it. She was sure that it wasn’t going to be just him who suffered. Well, she hoped that whoever took him had underestimated him. That would be their mistake because Matt Hurst, lowly underachiever, was the smartest man she knew. All he ever did was watch the History Channel, read Tom Clancy, and quote his favorite book, The Art of War. Whoever had him most certainly didn’t know who they had.

  Just then, a small man with ice-blue eyes came in. Ken Beck’s eyes were so piercing that Jan could barely hold their gaze. When she looked at him, she had the feeling that she had done something wrong, even though she hadn’t. To her, there was no worse feeling in the world than being accused of something that she hadn’t done. She could sense that this man was no lower-level bureaucrat. One look at his malevolent scowl told Jan that this was serious enough to bring in a man who would try to kill her Matt. Jan inherently knew that she was not only looking at her husband’s hunter, she could very well be looking at his executioner. She had never felt the kind of impending doom she felt when she looked into this man’s eyes.

  “Hello Jan, my name is Kenneth Beck. I work for the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  * * *

  Matt’s eyes were as big as quarters. Did I just hear the President of the United States use my name? Did I just hear the President of the United States say I am part of this? Whatever this is? Am I wanted as some sort of terrorist? How could that be possible? They had to have seen the recording in my office. What is the meaning of this?

  It was very confusing, but he suspected he was being set up as a patsy. He sure snapped out of his little infatuation quickly. Full of rage, he would snap her neck like a chicken bone the first chance he got. Vera ended her call. She immediately broke the phone and threw it out the window. She was a smart girl, or well trained at least.

  She looked back at him again, “I know you heard, and probably figured some of it out. So we need not pretend.”

  He took a moment. “What is this all about?”

  Her reply was thought out, “You will never know what this is all about, as it’s way over your head. You entered into it when you foolishly attacked a man with a gun.”

  “Then why not just let me go?”

  “We’re way past that. Don’t ask again. The way I see it, one way or another, you’re in this very deep and I doubt that you will be explaining your way out of it anytime soon. We’ve seen to that.”

  “Why would you do that?” Matt inquired, both hurt and angry in his response.

  “Because you’re going to help me get out of the country. Once we do and you get me safely to where I’m to be, then my associates will create a story that will allow you to return home.”

  “You’re full of shit, lady, there is no way I’m helping you screw my country over!”

  “Yes, you will. If you ever want to see your wife again, and ensure her future safety, you will do exactly as I say.”

  She pulled the car over, reached back and cut his restraints free with her knife, which she just noticed still had Dr. Cooper’s blood on it. Vera wondered if that factored into her captor not making an immediate move.

  * * *

  Looking back to when he was twelve, Pablo had known that Otavalo wasn’t going to be his home much longer. He had been walking home from school one day, after staying an extra two hours to grade papers for Mr. Garcia. He had seen one of his classmates and his sister selling tortillas on the corner. Every day they’d had to get home in time to get the tortillas, and then get out to work. Homework was for later. Fortunately Pablo’s parents made enough money that he didn’t have to work, but money was often tight. One pair of glasses or a toothache could cost José a week’s pay.

  Pablo didn’t know how he knew it, but even then, he was sure that he was going to be swept away from Otavalo. He had taken his time that day getting home from school, feeling stagnated and lethargic; meandering was the best he could muster. As is often the case with special people, his life was frequently lonely. He had no contemporaries, and adults were awkward around him, so his days were sometimes a little odd and solitary.

  At recess, Pablo would spend his time reading, although there was nothing physically wrong with him. In fact, he played rough with his brothers all the time, just not with anyone outside of his family. The Principal brought the newspaper in for him every day, and he would read instead of play. He was different, and when one is different, kids can be brutal. He endured the names and taunts, but his older brothers protected his interests whenever other children went beyond that. Still, his brothers couldn’t be there all the time, and he was not immune to feelings of insecurity brought on by the honesty and cruelty of small children.

  He had gone home that day, and went to look for the one thing that always brightened his world, his mama. He was a mama’s boy through and through. When he went into the kitchen and smelled his favorite chorizo, his heart sailed and his mood improved instantly.

  There had been a plate on the table with his food on it. His mama was out in the backyard hanging clothes. He could see her through the screen, and he went out to thank her before he ate. Just the touch of her swelled his heart and lifted him out of his melancholy as he ran back to eat his food.

  Halfway through his plate, destiny had called, and he had gone to peek at it through the window. He hadn’t seen his uncle in a while, and his tio looked different, with better clothing, jewelry, and a nice jeep. His papa was listening intently, and then Pablo heard him answer, “No, I won’t have my child live away. Delores could never bear to have her Pablito be away from her for even one night, Julio, you know this!”

  “I know José, but opportunities don’t come up like this very often here. No, I take that back. They never come up here, ever! Why do you think I had to leave, José? This place, it’s a place where you just exist, nothing is gained, and nothing is lost. It’s just a circle of poverty. It is not fair that he is to be stagnated here, stagnated because you two are too scared to accept that this is bigger than you, that he needs to be given the chance to grow into whatever it is he’s supposed to be.”

  They had stood and looked at each other for a long time. José missed his brother. He hated the fact that Julio had moved to Guayaquil and gotten a job as an exporter. But without that, they never would have been given this offer from Julio’s gracious boss. According to Julio, his boss had heard the stories about Pablo and offered to pay an unheard of amount of money to send him to France for a year to attend a private international school, a school that was considered the very best private school in all of France.

  “This school will allow Pablo to be accelerated,” Julio stated as he showed his brother the brochure.

  “No, my brother. I’m sorry. I will not ask her to do this. His path will happen with or without our help. And just like you, he will rebel against this place and move away. But at least for now, she has her time with him. Tell your boss thank you, but no thank you.”

  Then they all heard the sobbing. Delores had been listening around the corner while Pablo had been listening through the curtains. It was the uncontrolled, horrible sobbing that only mothers are entitled to when it involves their children. José was on his knees. “No, Mama, you heard wrong. I’m not letting him go. He’s staying right here with us.”

  That only made her cry more. Finally, she spoke through the tears and stutters. “Do you think I want that? Do you think I want him to be like Julio, and hate this place so much that he leaves and never comes back?!” Her uncontrollable sobbing continued. “Let him go, José. Let him go or we will lose him forever. Just like this one,” she said, pointing and staring at Julio.

  * * *

  In that same moment in time that a teenaged Pablo Manuel was practicing for Le Mis
, another play was unfolding in Peru, only this one would be played out on the world stage. Nearly two years had passed since the sniper’s bullet ripped open Felix’s back and chest. The doctors had fought off four different infections and performed several surgeries to get him into a stable coma. Every day a therapist massaged and moved him to prevent the bedsores from happening. Keeping him alive was no easy task.

  It was with no understanding of time and place that Felix Ortiz opened his eyes to. Where was he? His mouth was so dry that he couldn’t call out, so dry that there wasn’t any moisture in it at all. He looked around to see if there was water. He was in a hospital room of some kind, not a normal one for sure, and there was no water visible. He did have an IV line coming off a bag that was hanging on a pole. It went into his right arm.

  His arms seemed to look okay, and he flexed his fingers. His right fingers were very hard to move, and there was some shoulder pain. His legs were under the covers, and although he couldn’t see them, he could move and feel them. That’s good. But what happened? Then it came back to him. The ambush. Oh yeah. He pulled back the open hospital shirt to reveal an exit wound that was hard to believe. How am I still alive?

  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find himself face-to-face with a man standing in his doorway. The man had a full beard and was holding a plate of food. He was dressed in fatigues, and when he saw Felix awake, he dropped his plate on the ground and ran off screaming for someone named Octavio. Felix was drifting out again. Damn, I’m thirsty. I wonder why he ran away?

  * * *

  Matt stared at her for a long second. “I could kill you now and take my chances.”

  “You could try,” was Vera’s response. “I guess you forgot that your wife Jan and your unborn baby are counting on you.”

  “What?!”

  “I see you’re confused and you’re wondering how I could know that. We know everything Matt, never forget that, or that the people in charge are very powerful. But you actually had an OB-GYN appointment card in your wallet.” Matt’s face became less confused after hearing that, so he listened carefully as she finished her spiel.