The Harbinger of Change

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  This had been a reality never meant to occur anywhere, and in a moment of feelings that came out of nowhere, James had begun to sob uncontrollably as well. He had hugged the boy and given the same gut-wrenching moan that had just happened the other way, not ten minutes before. James had sobbed as the revelation came to him. How many scenes in the world have played out just like this, to people just like this boy at my hands? How much misery have I caused, just like this, in the name of the good old U.S.A.?

  James had known it must have been a lot, but he had just kept going, every new offer taken, every new contract fulfilled. He had known things, things that he shouldn’t have ever allowed himself to know. There had been clearance levels he should have turned down, once they were offered. Even Bill hadn’t known about several of them—not fully, anyway.

  Bill had known about the EMP net, and that’s the one the CIA had wanted. It had also meant they would probably kill him without hesitation if they found him and he didn’t surrender immediately. Fortunately, on that front, he’d only had a few months to live, so he wouldn’t be running for much longer, one way or the other.

  Pablo had stroked his hair as they hugged, and James had wailed on. The thing about being simpatico with someone was there was no need for explanation. Pablo had been trying to comprehend the myriad of emotions James was going through, emotions that being in the killing people business had brought on.

  James had obviously been having some career regret, as the type of vile deed that had happened to Pablo’s family was something he must have known a lot about. Even though no words had been spoken, Pablo had intuitively understood that this man would never build a weapon again, even if he recovered by some miracle. Fortunately for Pablo, one small grain of good had arrived at his darkest hour, in the form of the discovery that he wasn’t completely alone. He had inherently known that as long as these men were alive, then he still had guardians, for these men truly loved him.

  He had looked at Lebuff in the corner, as James had been struggling to compose himself, and had said, “Man, you’re a train wreck in a crisis.”

  Jeremy Lebuff had broke down and run to them both, and the three had hugged for a long time. Pablo had finally wiped his eyes and said to Lebuff with a note of seriousness, “They will come and they will come soon, so we’d better have a plan and it’d better be good.”

  James had interrupted, “I have the plan, and of course it’s good.”

  * * *

  Sarah called Ken Beck on his private cell, a number very few had. “Rogers called, he’s pissed, Ken. He knows you’re screwing him, someone on this side leaked that we’re in Stockton. He wants an update and an apology. His words, not mine, Boss.”

  “I could care less about Rogers. I don’t work for him. Okay, Sarah, so the cat’s out of the bag. That was bound to happen. It’s the ‘what have you got for me’ that I’m most concerned with at present.” Ken was hoping he was playing off his unease, but he doubted he was fooling her.

  “Okay Boss, the company that holds the storage unit is called Arrow Brook Distributors. They distribute fine wines and antiques from South America and sell them all over California. So I was able to get their tax returns from last year, and they had quite a few write offs: cars, computers, office furniture and—get this—a Cessna 310.”

  “What did you say, Sarah?”

  “A Cessna 310—quite a fast propeller plane.”

  “Yes it is, Sarah. A twin prop plane at that, with an air speed of two hundred miles per hour.”

  “What’s our next step, Boss?”

  “Okay,” he said, “all the small-plane airports are grounded, so we have some time. Find out where that plane was purchased and let’s find out who bought it. Does Arrow Brook list a CEO or CFO that we can get a hold of, by any chance?”

  Sarah answered, “If this is a front company, then there won’t be anybody real to contact. It will just be dead end after dead end, wasting our time the whole way. It’s probably part of their plan, to get us wasting time while they progress.”

  “Okay, forget the executives. Focus on the purchase, look for a name. We have a few hours left before the contents of the shed will be moved to a secure location for the complete overhaul.”

  “Okay Boss, stay cool and call Rogers—that was not a pleasant call I took for you.”

  Before they hung up, Sarah reminded him, “By the way, your boy Hurst flunked out of the Sheriff’s Academy two years ago.”

  “Why?” Ken asked.

  “Seems a psychiatrist there thought that he was harboring rage issues, and they labeled him with a ‘predisposition for irrational violence.’ Apparently there was an incident in the locker room and he got into a fight, but didn’t stop when mutual combat was over. The other Cadet suffered a fractured jaw and had a concussion.”

  When they hung up, Ken’s neck was starting to prickle, and he was sure Sarah was going to call back in a little while with the home run. He dialed Rogers and received the warmest greeting.

  “We’re supposed to be on the same team, Asshole. What have you found out?”

  * * *

  Pablo came out of his malaise over things past and decided to look to things present. He brought up his computer, and he was quite happy at what he saw. The world was scrambling, especially the U.S. He’d already made history by single-handedly bringing their air traffic to a grinding, miserable, near-standstill. That was a win, as was the fact that their President acknowledged his threat. Security checkpoints were causing delays of almost every flight, some for hours. Not to mention their whole country was looking for Vera.

  He must have really struck fear into them, because their politicians didn’t do that. They lied, they skirted, and although the President was “a man of the people,” they didn’t go on national TV and tell the truth. That is, unless it was so bad that they knew what was about to leave the country was irreplaceable.

  It was not lost on Pablo that his actions were going to stain the legacy of what appeared to be a good leader. Basically, this was an act of war, and Pablo was sure that once he was briefed, the President would realize this had happened on his watch. He was now making the grievous error of exposing himself too soon, and Pablo was sure the man realized that he was now culpable in whatever outcome resulted from Vera’s break-in. That’s what Pablo was seeing, and it made them look weak. So in that respect, they’d made the first blunder??

  Pablo looked at the stock ticker on the European NASDAQ and smiled. He observed that the Indian technology company Tanjotti rose twenty points on the news that it would launch its new communications satellite the next year. They would be using some groundbreaking technology that would revolutionize cellular communications. Tanjotti was using the Russian for-hire private space corporation Stratosphere, to launch their satellite into orbit.

  The article added that Tanjotti would be using their new state-of-the-art satellite to strengthen their existing network in South America. But there was already a rumor that they would be combining with one of the big U.S. based companies to help broaden their existing range. Once that move was made, there would be a mutually beneficial merger for the shareholders of both companies, whoever that other company might be.

  Pablo smiled. He had just made a cool ten million on those twenty points, and he was the one who had leaked the merger information, which was totally untrue. He owned Tanjotti and a busload of other corporations all over the world. It was amazing what one could get some players to do just by loudly and obviously moving a simple piece on the board.

  No merger was planned. He had obtained this Tanjotti Company because they happened to have cheap labor, which he could use to run a profitable acquisition. He was building the actual satellite in Brazil. Tanjotti was just going to manage the legitimate, cellular business that he was appearing to run.

  In the highly volatile commodities world, pieces of information or misinformation were worth millions. Pablo smiled again. Whether Vera got out or not, that satellite was going to do a l
ot more than communicate. But if she did make it, the production shortcuts that her cache would allow him to create would be priceless. Regardless, his orbiting wasp was going to leave quite an impression on anything it came into proximity to, with or without all the enhancements that the safe’s contents would surely help enable.

  Pablo had been trying to shelve the reality that Vera might not ever come back from America. He really didn’t want the only family he had going and living away for two years in a foreign land, but it was the only way to get to the safe. God, how he loved her, but as she knew, it’s wasn’t the romantic love that she desired. She didn’t understand yet that true love didn’t come out of feelings of indebtedness.

  True love needed to come from left field, and although she swore that that was the craziest thing he’d ever said, he had tried to convince her not to close her heart to the possibility that she could have “our love” and the spontaneous romantic love that everyone deserved as well. Pablo would always love Vera no matter what, but she really didn’t know what love was, even though she thought she did.

  He fondly remembered her concern.

  “Even if this madness you speak of were true, what about you Pablito?” she had asked. “Where is your happiness?”

  “On the love front my dear,” he had replied. “God will point us to where we shall be, that’s why I believe in another love for you, because my destiny is not to be ‘The Lover.’ My destiny is to be ‘The Judgment.’”

  Pablo’s parents hadn’t thought he had known that the last card the old woman had turned over at the carnival that fateful day was “Judgment.” Judgment was a very interesting card. It focused on closing old doors and opening new ones. It talked about resurrecting old ghosts and letting them go. For him to do that, he was going to need some closure.

  According to the story he had overheard his parents recant, after seeing his parents, the old Adivina had immediately closed for the day, and the next morning she was gone, even though the carnival was in town for two more days. “Judgment.” It was coming for more than one unsuspecting group, whether or not Vera made it out of the U.S.

  He looked in the corner contemplating his newly-purchased armament when his phone rang. It was Felipe, his Field General.

  * * *

  Sarah sounded elated, “I got it Ken! The Cessna, it was delivered to Tahoe, and it’s registered and housed at the municipal airport up there.”

  Ken knew that he should immediately call this in, and that they should converge on Tahoe with all available personnel, scorching the earth looking for them. But he also knew, and believed in the mantra, “No guts, no glory.”

  “Sarah, hear me. I’m not asking you to torch your career here, as you’ve been more than loyal, so I understand if you feel the need to turn on this. I’ll call bygones now, but I’m going after them and I want until tomorrow at 07:00.”

  Silence followed. “Why?” she finally asked.

  “Because this is the one, Sarah. This is my ticket to ‘the seat.’ This is the defining moment for me, as I will be completely untouchable and you know it. The why’s and the how’s won’t mean anything if we have the proof of the pudding. Come on, Sarah; don’t tell me you don’t know that too. Remember Alabama? This is a country of results. Plus, worst-case scenario, they get out and you have some F-15s scramble. Then it’s all over. They’re trapped and you know it. Now let me go in and take those two out before they know they’ve been made and do something like go backwoods on us, or split up.”

  “What about Pete Brody’s assessment?”

  “Hurst could be a good guy. If he is, Sarah, then he better hope he’s good at conveying things quickly.”

  She thought about it. “How are you going to make it to Tahoe expeditiously from Stockton without raising every eyebrow there is?” she asked.

  Ken chuckled. “That’s right, Sarah, you’ve never driven with me when I’m motivated, have you? Trust me, I’ll be there in less than two hours, and they’re at least five hours from pulling out here. No one will know I’m gone because I’m in mobile office mode, and it’s not unusual for me to be in my car at a scene for two hours or more. They’ll just think I’m busy. Plus they’re in gathering mode. The time for this move is right now.”

  “Alright—go, Ken. But God help us both if you’re wrong on this.”

  The line went dead. Sarah thought to herself that she could always work for her sister in Atlanta. She owned a dry cleaning chain. The only thing I hate more than the smell of dry cleaning solutions is humidity. Sarah already had one foot out the door on Beck’s whole crazy scheme, but she would be abandoning a career path that she had stuck to fastidiously.

  Not only that, she had seen what happens to people who’ve enraged Mr. Beck. Thinking that thought reminded her that the interrogation barf scene had been recorded. She’d watched it a dozen times. It was so funny. Sarah was sure Jan Hurst would turn up dead somewhere in the near future. “Choked on her own vomit,” the report would read.

  Some would claim that Sarah rode Ken Beck’s coattails to the top, but Sarah knew the truth that they were the dynamic duo. It wasn’t so much that she rode Ken’s coattails, it was more like she was the running back following the blocker. Only in this league, the blocker was the star. Even though there were things about him that gave her the creeps, so far, he hadn’t let her down on the career path. No, she would roll the dice and wait out 07:00. But damn, it was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Starving, Matt and Vera entered the diner talking about gambling in a rehearsed nonchalance. They acted as if they barely noticed the waitress while ordering coffee and perusing the menus. The TV was running at an average volume at the far end of the counter, so they couldn’t hear it clearly from their booth.

  The three people at the counter and their waitress were currently huddled around it watching a live broadcast from DHS, which looked to be about Matt. The waitress broke off when she glanced at them watching her, and she was back in a hurry with the coffee. She apologized for the wait, explaining that she just felt the news was “all so riveting.”

  Then Matt did something that immediately threw her off from suspecting them of anything. It was a move that took away the tension Vera was feeling inside. Afterward, she realized that it was quite an ingenious thing Matt had done. He had simply told the middle-aged, white waitress with the weathered face and the worn-out shoes, “It was probably them Towel Heads or those damn Chinese.” Just like that, he was in with her.

  She went off on some tirade about foreigners and took their order. Then she mentioned what a nice couple they were before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Matt whispered to Vera in a knowing tone, “One thing you can always count on in this country, you can always find a racist when you need one.”

  He continued to impress her more every second. As she was looking over at the three guys sitting at the counter, she suddenly got an extremely focused look on her face. One of them was wearing an Aviator’s jacket, with small wings on it, and then she noticed the pilot’s hat on the counter. He was a white guy about thirty, with dark hair and average looks, build, and stature. He was “everyman”: not too short, not too tall, not fat, but not skinny. Matt and Vera suddenly became very interested in his newest conversation with his counter mates.

  “So, how long you grounded, Doug?” asked the fat guy on the left, who looked like a truck driver.

  Doug replied, “Until the FAA says we can fly. Apparently, the big boys have the infrastructure to catch someone if they tried to get through, but we don’t. Probably better off, from what I hear, be anywhere but an airport right now, especially a commercial one.”

  “What about your cargo?” the guy on the right asked him.

  “Well, this trip I only dropped off. I was heading back to Oakland empty when this shit happened.”

  “Well, it could be worse,” said the old man with the Walter Cronkite looks on the right. “You’re in Tahoe, after all. Go throw a few dice.”r />
  Doug responded with, “Nice try, Harry. I have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. This is killing me, I had a hot date tonight.”

  The waitress brought their food, and Matt wolfed down his sandwich in record time. All the while they were eavesdropping on the “good-old-boy” conversation going on across the diner.

  Vera had heard enough. She took a note pad out of her pocket book, wrote her plan out, and showed Matt.

  Matt looked at her as if to say, “Are you sure?”

  She gave him an “are you kidding me, doubting my abilities” look. He immediately capitulated.

  Pablo had taught her that the simplest thing, like not having something to write on at all times, could be the difference between life and death. Does he always have to be right? And if he is, what does that say about the hazel eyes staring back at me right now from across the table. Matt rose, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and left. The waitress came over and said, “Where did your man get off to?”

  Vera replied, “Oh, he’s not my man, silly. That was my brother. Didn’t you see the resemblance?”

  Nadine (that’s what her name tag said) uttered, “You know, now that you mention it, I surely do.”

  Vera knew she already had the pilot. She had noticed him eavesdropping on their conversation, and using her peripheral vision she could tell he was hooked. She got up. Time for a trip to the bathroom.

  Douglas Sharp couldn’t believe his luck or his eyes. First of all, this incredible blonde in this beautiful pants suit comes in. Her outfit had an amazing V cut in front, and it sent his mind reeling. Doug was quickly forlorn though, as she had a companion that could only be described as a “Nancy Boy” in tow.