The Harbinger of Change

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Octavio had then bent down and picked his victim’s phone out of his pocket. “Now let’s see who you were talking to on the phone.”

  * * *

  Vera came in as Matt was drying off. She could tell he worked out regularly. He was a big guy, not fat, but certainly not thin. He almost had a six-pack and little body hair, but she could tell he was working on it though. His brown hair a tufted mess, and damn, did that boy have big feet! She internally blushed.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey,” was his reply, his eyes glued on the television set.

  Matt watched her remove some purchased items from her bag and said to her, “They’re heating things up. So what’s the rest of the plan you wanted to tell me? Because the way it looks, they’ve clamped down on every major way there is to get out of here.”

  Vera replied, “Major routes, yes, Matt, but not every way. I have a plane here.”

  “You fly?”

  “No,” she answered.

  Matt tried not to be condescending, but it was hard. “I’m confused. You have a plane and you can’t fly it?”

  “That’s correct. The government was scrutinizing potential pilots to the point where they were basically being vetted by Homeland Security, and I didn’t want that scrutiny on my alias’ identity. So I bought the plane, and I was planning to buy a house here. Then the cover story of why I needed the pilot’s license would have worked for my covert identity.”

  Matt thought, wouldn’t the purchase of the plane draw scrutiny? Her next sentence covered his thought though.

  “The plane was purchased by a blind, a fake company set up for me. It’s what the storage sheds are under, as well as the car we’re driving.”

  “Okay, so we have a plane we can’t fly, and everyone in the world is looking for us. What part of this is your plan?”

  She opened up her shopping bags and pulled out hair color for men. It was a very light brown.

  “This will be a start.”

  * * *

  Ken Beck exited Highway 99 via Highway 4 and got off on California Street in Stockton. From there it was a short two blocks to the intersection of Weber and California, ground zero. He gathered the team.

  “Okay, we know they were here, but we don’t know why. My guess is that they were either here to switch cars, hit a safe house, or both. Unit One is to do a sweep of a mile radius, starting here, then two miles, then three. Look for all hotels, restaurants, and businesses they could be hiding in, just in case they were running down the rabbit hole and decided to lay low.”

  Ken turned to Unit Two. “Okay, you guys do the same perimeter, but look for the car or any signs of a safe house. Look for activity in back yards, garages, et cetera. I will look for auto and storage units in the vicinity. We have three more teams coming to help. And remember, stay off the radios, just group text for now. We want this on the down-low. The Agency has to have first crack at this. Make it happen, people.”

  He added before they left, “Sarah is continuing to chase leads in Sacramento, just in case we’re barking up the wrong tree here. Remember, we’re systematic for a reason. Just keep flipping the stones and something good will come from it. Now go out and find them.”

  * * *

  Vera was drying Matt’s hair and watching the TV. Man, had they ever kicked over the hornet’s nest. The net was clamping down for sure. She handed him a sectional aeronautical map, San Francisco legend.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s an aeronautical map. It shows things like Military Operating Zones and the classes of Airspace Operation.”

  “I’m listening,” Matt said.

  “Well, according to this, if we stay below seven hundred feet, we’re below radar, and if we stay on the course I have penned on the map, we’ll dodge all the MOA’s all the way to the Mexican border. We have a pick-up south of the border, if we can make it.”

  “Wow, that’s a thin plan. Are we supposed to just pull a pilot out of our ass?”

  Apparently she didn’t like sarcasm because she “accidentally” pulled his hair while combing it and it freaking hurt. Then she started combing again a little nicer as she continued. “I was thinking we could find a sight-seeing group and kidnap the pilot.”

  “That would be too high-profile,” Matt said. “It would draw too much attention.”

  “Okay, what do you suggest?”

  Matt offered, “How about an instructor from the pilot school I saw advertised on a sign at the airport when we drove by it.”

  Vera hadn’t thought of that or seen the sign when she checked this place out the previous month. That didn’t sit well with her. Apparently, she didn’t have her mind completely open. “Not bad,” she conceded, “we could even pay him some crazy amount for three hours or something. Then we could have a nice head start before anyone notices that we’re gone. All we have to do is lay low here until tomorrow and see what we can find out.” She inwardly admitted that it was a great idea. Vera was beginning to realize that Matt wasn’t just another pretty face, which brought her back to the other thing, the troubling thing.

  He looked in the mirror. She had changed his appearance so drastically that he hardly recognized himself, especially his hairstyle, which was now parted on the side. She found some designer shops, and he was now a very sharply dressed metrosexual male who looked ready for the casino. She completed Matt’s ensemble with some wire-framed glasses, a black shirt that was certainly in the several hundred-dollar range, and some very comfortable slacks. To top it off, she had gotten him some good leather shoes with nice thick rubber soles.

  “Very nice,” he told her as he inspected himself in the mirror. She was making some trimming adjustments on his bangs. Their faces were very close, and some light touching was taking place as she jockeyed for a better position. She actually straddled him at one point, which electrified his body, giving him goosebumps.

  She got hair in his eyes, and he clenched them in reaction. She instinctively blew it out, and then it happened. They had one of those awkward moments where their eyes locked for an inordinate amount of time, and without warning, they were embracing.

  He had tried to make the timing right, and by her reaction it worked, as it wasn’t just a casual embrace. There was a lot of passion coming from her. Her touch was amazing.

  They mated like two frenzied animals, and didn’t stop to make love for most of it. But, at some point, they stared into each other’s eyes and had another awkward moment while having sex. This time it turned on him, as he gave into her passion and they actually made love for a long, long time.

  * * *

  Ken Beck saw it on his Google Maps. It was a twenty-four hour storage unit not two miles from his location. That would be the first tree he barked up.When he got there, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Damn, on the first try?

  Since he’d been a rookie field agent, he’d observed that if the hair on the back of his neck stood up, it meant they were at the right spot or after the right person or whatever it was they sought. He had a sixth sense about things that had served him well.

  Ken parked and went in. Jorge Villalobos was the manager in charge when Beck identified himself. Jorge was not an easy customer though. He had never seen a CIA badge before, and quite frankly, he didn’t believe it was real, especially since Beck was wearing a t-shirt.

  Jorge became a believer when Ken texted Unit Two to come to the address. He needed Agent Blake’s help convincing Mr. Villalobos that they were legitimate before Jorge foolishly called the local police department and tipped Rogers that he was onto a good lead. After two minutes of speaking with the 6'6", 260-pound Agent Blake, Villalobos was in more of a mood to talk.

  The gate logs showed six entrances between three and six o’clock, and Ken addressed his newly cooperative friend.

  “Let’s see the video, Jorge.” At 16:45, a black Mustang appeared and a handsome man punched the code and was let in. Beck gaped in disbelief at his luck. Son of a bitch, there she was in the b
ack seat! “Jorge, what unit does this person have?”

  “Unit 25, it’s in the very back.”

  They stayed on the recording, and now they also knew what car the wanted fugitives had switched into as well. She was the one to switch the car though, and they couldn’t make out a passenger as she left.

  Maybe Hurst is in that shed with a bullet in his head, Ken thought. He stood and addressed Jorge. “We’re going to close your facility for a few minutes, and we’ll keep it low profile, no news people or anything.”

  They set up, and Unit One covered, as Blake moved in from Unit Two and cut the lock. He slid the bolt back, lifted the door, and slid the probe into the shed. It would detect the presence of explosives, although the word was that the stuff used at Conceptual was so sophisticated that the probe might not detect anything dangerous.

  It was a go. Unit Two moved in, and Beck found Hurst’s black Mustang, but no movement.

  The storage unit was dark, but once they found the lights, they knew that this was a safe house. There were even clothes lockers here. These two were on the move with a new set of everything it seemed. Ken Beck had walked in and smelled the break. This place would surely yield some clues. He would get Sarah working on this right away. She would find him something, as she always did.

  * * *

  Pablo knew from talking to James about it many times that a seeming eternity had passed before Jeremy had called with the news of his own financial backing, even though it had actually been only a couple of hours.

  “It was his uncle,” Jeremy had said, clearing his throat. “All tuition is being paid for by a Julio Manuel. The transfers come out of a bank in Guayaquil, Ecuador. I suppose you think there’s a connection between this uncle and what happened?”

  “Not sure, Jeremy, but I would bet dollars to donuts there is.”

  “Dollars to donuts? You Americans are good at coming up with the weirdest expressions.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s something else we’re good at Jeremy, and that’s helping friends when they need it.” He had let that one sink in. “I’ll call you back.”

  James had gone to work, and within a very short time he had been able to find a valuable piece of information. The day before, a Julio Manuel had been decapitated in his home in Guayaquil. The police had written that the murder was typical of a cartel execution, with the man garroted while his girlfriends slept. The girlfriend had been pluralized. So at least he went out happy, James had thought. Until he was garroted of course, a disgusting thing to wake up to for sure.

  Immediately James made the connection. Now he knew for sure that his protégé was in real trouble. He also realized that his life was about to take a major “right turn,” as he’d just become a de facto parent without warning. Suddenly, he’d had a feeling he had never known before in his entire lifetime, an awakening of parental instinct.

  What had been spinning in his head had now begun churning in his stomach, and before he had known it, he had been on his feet moving for the door. Most people would have been on their feet and dealing with the immediate situation, but not James Haberman. For like Pablo, his vision in life and chess had been so far ahead of everyone else’s that it couldn’t even be quantified. Suffice it to say, my plan of going home to die is not going to happen anymore, James had mused. Then, the sobering reality had struck him. He had forgotten. Oh yeah, I’m going to die soon.

  * * *

  Matt asked first, “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Vera answered with, “I don’t know, I didn’t plan that. Truthfully, I’m dedicated to someone, and even though I had permission to do that, I never have.”

  “Permission? Are you married?”

  She giggled, and replied condescendingly. “No. I’m not married, but you are.”

  Matt answered under his breath with the intention of deception, “If you can call it that.”

  Vera concluded the conversation. “No more questions. It happened; now let’s just try to live. You have your life and I have mine.”

  Matt looked at her and laid back, contemplating. Okay, for her it was no big deal, since she didn’t just betray her marriage, but I did, and it isn’t exactly my modus operandi. Back in Matt’s younger days he would have one girl cross over the end of the next one, but that was when he was young, and that’s what young people did. He wasn’t a cheater, and he really wanted to believe that he did what he had to do. The fucked up part was that he had really enjoyed doing it, and it was already eating at his conscience.

  Vera was watching the emotions dance across Matt’s face. He obviously wasn’t a cheater, or else he wouldn’t be so wracked with guilt. She felt a little bad about it, but there it was again. The minute she thought about him with his wife, she felt jealousy? No, it’s not possible to fall in love with someone in one day—is it? I’m just confused right now by all that’s been happening. Vera decided to lighten the mood.

  “If it’s any consolation, we’ll probably both be dead by this time tomorrow anyway.”

  “That’s supposed to cheer me up?” Matt replied. “You’re not very good at cheering people up.”

  Vera jumped on him. “Oh yeah? How about now?”

  She put her breasts in his face while straddling him, then pulled back, and let her hair fall over him. He realized as he absorbed her essence that he was hopelessly lost in this girl. But how can that be? I just met her.

  “Okay, now we’re talking,” he said with a smile.

  Then her stomach grumbled loudly. “Looks like you better eat. Me, too. The last thing I had was half a pastrami, thanks to you.” She looked at him puzzled. He explained, “I’ll tell you later. But now let’s figure out where we can eat. It’s not exactly like we can go out, even in our disguises. Although I’m sure there’s a drive-thru window somewhere here in Tahoe.”

  “No,” she said. “There’s a little local diner up the road, we’ll be fine. Who’ll be expecting the two most wanted people on the planet to be in a diner in Tahoe?”

  Vera really was nonplussed. Her training told her she would be fine. Hiding in plain sight was an art. Plus, he was a light-haired fancy boy now, who was wearing glasses and driving a very expensive car with his trophy at his side. One couldn’t go very far around here without seeing that combination.

  They left the motel, and Vera hid the problem that was swirling around her head at the moment, a big problem for her. That tête-à-tête should have meant nothing to her. It should have just been a release from the stress, nothing more. Then why is it bugging me? It didn’t feel casual at all, and she felt the complication manifesting as she was still imaging him inside her. She was continuing her spiral off the grid now. If she lived through the next twenty-four hours, then she really had some feelings to sort out.

  Vera’s former life had been so repulsive that she’d never gotten into a situation where she had “longed for the good old days.” The good old days had been a horror filled nightmare that no human being should ever have to endure. Only the future was for her, because in her entire life, looking back had not been an option. The world had been a cruel and horrible place most of her life, but thanks to Pablo, she was now a force to be dealt with.

  It didn’t elude her that she was in a unique position, one that probably had never come up in the history of the world. One moment in time she was a whore, forced into sex with all kinds of perverted men. Now, she was going to bring mankind to its knees, not the other way around.

  Now was she dealing with finding love in the midst of all this chaos? Vera couldn’t believe that she allowed the word. If it were love, it would be a love that was wrought with problems and bad karma. Yet, all she could think of was that she would trade it all right now for this guy and an island, just the two of them. Maybe it was just like the Bible said. Maybe the meek really will inherit the earth. If that happens, it would definitely be because of what she and Pablo were doing here now. If they were successful, then she could make that island dream a reality. But not if I can
’t get out of the fucking United States!

  * * *

  Everyone handles pressure differently. Most men would be freaking out that an entire nation was looking for the woman they loved. Every agency in the American arsenal was not only looking for the woman Pablo loved, but they also sought the plans she held, plans that would change the balance of power in the world, forever. Most men would be freaking out; but not Pablo, for he had reason to believe that faith alone would see her through. That reason was that he had God on his side.

  Pablo went back to remembering James and the night it had all changed for him. He knew the story well.

  That fateful night, James had stood over his bed watching him sleep, knowing his life was never going to be the same. He had been twisting over how to even begin to tell someone something like that.

  Pablo knew that James had played it out over and over and still hadn’t been able to find the words. Lebuff had stood silent in the corner, a total loss of composure on his face. The two of them had just stood there in an indecisive mess.

  Pablo had awoken, and he had seen James’s silhouette illuminated off his “too bright” alarm clock. Evidently his subconscious had felt a presence in his room.

  “What?” Pablo had asked, looking around. “What’s going on?” He had turned his nightlight on, exposing Lebuff. Then he had looked left to James for answers.

  The following moments had been some of the most difficult in all of their lives. James had known Pablo was extremely close to his family. When they had relayed the horrific news, Pablo hadn’t been able to accept it. It had taken Jeremy telling him that he spoke to the principal himself to get Pablo to believe it. It had been truly horrible.

  Then had come the time to tell him of his uncle’s fate. James had given him the news as he read it from the police blotter. As he had read, he had seen the boy’s analytical mind turn on.

  James had respected his intelligence by saving his theory for another time, while Pablo had tried to accept the unacceptable. James had only been able to watch helplessly as Pablo tried to fathom a reality that was usually reserved for sensationalized media footage shown on television news—the kind of reports that showed some destroyed man telling the story of how his entire family had been in a building that some U.S. rocket had errantly blown up. But this had been no news clip, it had been Pablo’s life, and he was being asked to handle something that no one should ever be asked to handle.