by Carl Rackman
Her phone rang half an hour into her journey. The number came up on the car’s Bluetooth display as Jerry’s home number.
“Hi, Jerry.”
“Hi, Callie, it’s Patti.” Patti was Jerry’s third wife and, from how he talked about her, she was a keeper. She would probably outlive Jerry if he stuck around with her long enough. It was an old joke around Woodbury.
“Hi Patti. What’s up?”
“Callie, Jerry called and said he was asked back into work this morning. I don’t know when to expect him back. He didn’t get held up, did he?”
“Uh, no, Patti, not that I know. I’m sure I was the last to leave last night.”
“Oh. I’ve been worried about him! He came home late last night and didn’t seem happy. I’ve been trying his cell all afternoon, but it goes straight to voicemail.”
“Okay, Patti. Uh, I wasn’t aware he’d been called back into work. As far as I was told, we were given special leave for a couple of weeks as a reward for all the work we did over the weekend.”
Callie felt bad again. Perhaps she should just keep her mouth shut. Despite his age, Jerry still fancied himself as a silver fox; the promise of a few weeks paid vacation may have gone to his head. Join the club, sister. Callie rebuked herself at the thought. Maybe ‘Callie’ was short for ‘callous’ after all, as Bryan had once said.
Patti was still talking. “Sure! But I know you guys often work late and sometimes pull all-nighters. I didn’t want to bother you personally, but I’m going crazy here!” Her voice was cracking.
Callie was stuck for something to say. “I’m sorry, Patti. I just don’t know where he might’ve gone.”
“Okay, Callie.” Patti was in tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Then it suddenly occurred to her that Patti might have suspected Callie was involved in Jerry’s absence. The thought was almost funny. Patti had already hung up.
Callie’s mind began to wander. Jerry lived about ten minutes from Woodbury, not far from her place. She voice dialled his phone from the car. Sure enough, it went straight to voicemail.
She felt a slight chill and wondered if it was worth calling the others in case something had happened. But she chided herself for getting jittery – the photos had made her paranoid enough already.
Her phone suddenly rang again. The Bluetooth image showed Vijay Aggarwal.
“Hi, it’s Callie.”
There was no voice, but she could hear the sound of traffic and chilling cries of a girl in the background through the car’s amplified speaker. The sounds faded and grew, and then voices became distinct in the background. Next, a siren sounded loudly before the voices and cries grew louder until the call suddenly cut off.
Callie began to feel very unsettled. She checked in her rear-view mirror – the freeway was relatively quiet, but a car was coming up fast behind. Callie was travelling at about fifty miles an hour. The only other vehicle around was a white-painted panel truck just ahead.
Get a grip, Callie!
She saw the lights of the car behind as it slid into her lane and barrelled up behind. She felt a stab of fear as she considered gangsters or carjackers. She accelerated to get closer to the truck, if nothing else to have company close at hand.
The car behind was a black SUV with dark-tinted windows. It flashed its high beams. She tried to move over, but it followed. Fear rose in her throat, causing it to constrict, and her breath came in gasps.
She fumbled for the phone control on the GPS screen and brought up 911. As she was about to hit dial, the phone rang. It was Jerry’s number again. Probably Patti calling to say Jerry was home. She cancelled the call and hit 911.
“911 Emergency.”
Callie dug deep to stay calm. “My name is Carolyn Woolf, I’m in a blue Toyota Prius on the Santa Monica Freeway heading west near Arlington! I’m being harassed by a black SUV with blacked out windows. Please help me!”
“Ma’am, are they trying to pull you over?”
“No, they just came up very fast behind me with high beams. They’re following every time I change lanes.”
“Okay, ma’am, we’ll get a unit to your location. Do not pull over or stop. Keep driving and stay close to other traffic if you can.”
“Okay. Thank you. Please get here quickly!”
“We’re sending a unit now. Try to stay on the line. What is your license plate, ma’am?”
“Okay, it’s-” Callie was distracted by the bright glare of the lights in her rear view mirror.
The SUV was tight up behind the car, its high beams blinding.
Callie tried to move alongside the truck, but it pulled out ahead just as she got close. Panic rose in her gullet, clouding her thoughts and restricting her ability to think.
She pulled out into the overtaking lane, but the panel truck moved ahead to block her again. The SUV crowded right up to her bumper; its lights bright in the mirror. She panicked and hit the gas sending the little hybrid past seventy. She looked in the mirror again to see the SUV brake heavily and fall back.
Relieved, she looked ahead only to register in a split second of horror that the truck had virtually stopped in the middle of the freeway.
She instinctively jammed her foot on the brake, a panic reaction. She was going far too fast to stop in time. In a reflexive action she tore the wheel to the right and the car lurched across the lane, almost flipping up on two wheels and missing the truck by inches. The door mirror vanished with a bang and shower of plastic and glass.
As the car began to skid in the opposite direction, she lifted her foot. The little Prius shimmied; she prayed it wouldn’t flip over. She sat, frozen with fear, scared to touch anything, but the car slowed naturally with the electric braking and settled down to about twenty miles an hour. She was panic breathing, her throat constricted, but somehow she was alive.
Callie looked in the rear-view mirror. Her panic rose as she saw the black SUV again accelerating towards her. The truck was also moving up across the lanes. With a terrified cry she realised this was not a simple car accident. They were trying to kill her.
She planted her foot on the accelerator again. The Prius was not built for speed, but at least it was still working and would probably outpace the truck.
The SUV began to pull up alongside; she saw only black glass. It began to barge towards her, and she realised it was trying to push her off the raised freeway. Again she braked, but then immediately hit the gas again. It deceived the SUV driver enough to cause him to miss, but it quickly accelerated and pushed up behind her, crushing its bull bars into the small Prius.
It looked as though it was going to crush her into the retaining concrete wall. She tried braking, but it had no effect against the big V8 engine pushing her from behind.
She began crying in her panic. She was no longer driving.
Why?
In what she knew were her final moments, she suddenly thought of Voyager. Someone was trying to kill her because she had seen the photos.
It gave her a moment of clarity, and then she realised her phone was still on.
“Ma’am? Ma’am! Are you still with me?”
“Yes, but he’s pushing me into the wall!”
“Units are with you, ma’am. Just hold on, okay?”
The entire scene abruptly lit up like daylight. The forward movement eased off and then stopped altogether as she felt her car braking. She became dimly aware of the SUV overtaking, streaking past, lights off and fleeing the scene. She could now hear a helicopter overhead and the sirens of the police.
Thank God! Oh, thank God…
A police black-and-white pulled up behind as the Prius coasted to a stop. Two others screamed past in pursuit of the SUV floodlit from the overhead police helicopter.
Callie just collapsed in tears at the wheel.
A cop approached the door. “Are you okay, ma’am?” asked the young Hispanic officer.
Callie practically melted when she saw her. “Thank you! I was so scared! I—”
“Ma’am, is your name Carolyn Woolf?”
“Yes, I’m her.” Callie tried to collect her thoughts as the sobs shook her body. Her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn’t even hold the wheel anymore.
“Ma’am, do you need medical attention?”
“No. I…I just had a bad scare. Officer, I just need to rest awhile – can I just sit here for a minute?”
“Ma’am, you can’t stop on the freeway. There’s an exit just ahead – we can drive you up there as long as your car is okay?”
In the end the cop drove her car to a 7-Eleven about two miles up the freeway. Her partner stayed close behind with his lights flashing all the way.
On the way, Callie found her tongue and the story began to pour out. “Who…who was it? They tried to kill me.”
“Ma’am, we are in pursuit, but it was probably gang-related. Did you have any traffic encounters with the vehicle?”
“No! I just drove straight here. There was a truck as well, they were trying to sandwich me—”
“Can you describe the truck?”
It took another half an hour to make her statement. Callie felt powerless. She was sworn not to mention Voyager, yet that was the only explanation she could think of. Then there were the strange phone calls.
She checked her phone and saw that Patti had tried three more times to call. In the calm of the gas station, with the police car nearby, she felt able to drop her guard. She brought up her voicemail.
“Callie, please pick up. Please pick up, Callie, it’s Patti.” She was in floods of tears.
The next message was infinitely worse.
“Callie, it’s Patti. There’s been a fire at JPL… Oh my God, Callie, Jerry’s missing. Please call back.”
Callie froze in horror listening to the next message.
“Callie, please pick up. I need to know you’re okay. The police just called. They found Jerry… Oh Callie, he’s dead, and so is Victor Ortiz! I’m so sorry. Callie, please call, okay?”
Callie’s head swam. She remembered the call from Vijay just before she was attacked. That left Leon and Morris. And her.
She vomited out of the open door of her Prius. The cop looked over at her. Callie waved her away through watery eyes.
After clearing her mouth and wiping her eyes, she dialled her brother’s number again. There was another long pause before the insistent double-ringing that seemed to go on forever.
“Hello?” said a sleepy woman’s voice.
“Fiona? It’s Callie. I’m sorry to wake you. Is Robbie there?”
“Callie, it’s four o’clock in the morning!”
“Please, Fiona. I’m sorry, but it’s very urgent.”
There was a shuffling of sheets before Robbie’s voice came on. “What’s up, Callie?”
“Robbie! Thank God! Robbie, some people just tried to kill me. They’ve killed the whole team! It’s got something to do with the pictures I sent you—”
“Okay, Callie, just slow down. Who tried to kill you? Where are you?”
“They tried to run me off the road. There was a fire at JPL. Jerry and Victor were killed. I think Vijay’s dead, too. I’m so scared, Robbie! I know it’s to do with the photos—”
Robbie’s voice suddenly hardened, turning decisive and businesslike. “Okay, Callie, stop. Just stop there. Is there anyone you can go to for the night?”
Callie thought, and then her heart sank when she realised her only realistic option. “Uh… Bryan, I guess.”
“Head straight there. Keep your phone on. I’ll call you. I’m going to speak to some people I know. If anything happens, anything at all, call me back right away. Okay, Sis?”
Callie gulped. “Sure, Robbie. When are you going to call?”
“Just give me half an hour. I’ll call back again, I promise.”
“Thank you, Robbie.”
After they said goodbye and hung up, Callie’s mind reeled for a second, but then she took back control. One step at a time. She redialled.
“Hey, it’s Bryan.”
“Bryan, it’s Callie.”
“Oh, hey, Callie. Ah… Are you—”
“Bryan, we need to talk. I’ll go on the record if you can see me right now.”
There was a pause. “Okay. Can you get here by nine?”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Great! That’s really cool of you, Cal. I’ll be ready.”
She hung up and looked over towards the police cruiser. The policewoman still looked curiously over at her. Callie gave her a wave and what she hoped was an apologetic smile before winding up her window and starting the hybrid. The police officers still looked unsure as she drove past and rejoined the traffic heading for the expressway.
Callie reached Bryan’s townhouse in swanky Brentwood just before nine. The shakes had ceased by the time she got there, and she was quite composed when she rang the bell at the front of the huge house. Lights came on inside and outside before Bryan opened the large wooden door into the porch.
“Wow, Callie, you look like crap.”
Callie didn’t even have the energy to pick him up on his customary thoughtlessness. “Bryan, please. Can I just come in?”
He stepped aside and walked her through into the enormous living room complete with stone fireplace and baby grand piano in one corner. The soft mood lighting was not what Callie expected.
“Is Laura here?”
Bryan looked uncomfortable. “She…uh, went to her mom’s for the weekend.”
Callie almost felt vindicated. Join the club, sister.
He sat them down on the soft, enveloping couch.
Callie felt a wave of fatigue fall over her. Get a grip, Callie! She had to be alert.
Bryan got straight down to business. He produced a digital recorder and placed it on the table in front of them.
“On the record, you said?”
Callie nodded and took out her phone. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
“And how much is that, exactly?” Bryan looked doubtful.
Callie shrugged. “I can only comment on whatever you tell me.”
Bryan pursed his lips. “Okay. So, by close of business today, I still have no co-operation from the JPL press office. Now, my client has rock-solid proof that your Voyager probe downlinked some photographs. They have grounds to believe the photographs contain proof of extraterrestrial intelligence.” He let the accusation hang.
Callie swallowed. “How can they have proof of such a thing? It’s preposterous.”
“No way, Callie. You had something to hide earlier. You practically told me to come at you, and you’d play the national security card. Something’s going on, and I need to know what I’m getting into here.”
Callie knew exactly what he really meant. Would this kill his career or propel him to media stardom?
She sighed. “Bryan, this information is dangerous. That’s all I know. People were killed tonight. I was almost killed. It’s not just about information. This stuff is deadly.”
Bryan tossed his head impatiently making his floppy hair flick up and back. “C’mon, Callie! Is this what you’ve got or isn’t it? Is this Close Encounters or some sort of smokescreen?”
Callie felt angry at him; he seemed to be able to kindle her irritation without any effort. She’d just told him that good people had died, yet he was still looking for a career boost. Well, screw him.
“Okay, Bryan. It’s true. We’ve received some anomalous pictures from Voyager that appear to show an artificial object in the vicinity of the probe, which is over twelve billion miles away. But I’m warning you, you’re not going to get within a sniff of those pictures. And you might be risking your life if you take it beyond these walls.”
“You won’t scare me off, Callie. I have reasonable grounds for suing under FOIA. And you’ve just given me some pretty strong leverage.”
“Bryan. I don’t actually care much for you, b
ut you’re still a part of our lives. You’re still a good father, in your own way. I don’t want the kids to lose you. I’m being serious about the threat. If you’d been bothered to listen, the only reason I’m here is because someone tried to run me off the road tonight and three of my team are dead. I’m asking you, Bryan, please don’t get involved.”
“Thanks for the warning, Callie. I’ll be careful.”
Callie jumped as her phone vibrated loudly on the polished oak table. It was an international number.
“Callie?” said Robbie’s familiar transatlantic twang.
“Yes, it’s me!”
“Where are you? At Bryan’s?”
“Yes. What’s the—”
“Callie, you have to get out of L.A. immediately. Get on anything heading east – a train, a cab, anything that’s not immediately traceable. You have to get out of L.A., then get on a plane to New York. When you get there, call this number…”
Callie was stunned trying to process the information.
As Robbie recited a New York area number, she gesticulated for a pen from Bryan who looked on suspiciously.
“Callie, listen. The number is for a contact called Terry. He’s British. You can trust him; he’ll look after you. You call me straight away if you need help before then. Now listen, this is very important, do not tell a single soul about the data you sent, you got me? Tell me if you understand.”
“I understand.”
“You need to leave. Now. Love you, Cals.” He hung up.
“Who was that?” Bryan was afraid he might be seeing his prize witness slip away.
“Bryan, I have to go. Just remember what I said.”
“Jeez, Callie—”
“No, Bryan! I have to get out of here. Now.”
Despite his protestations, she squirmed past him and headed for the door.
She didn’t even say goodbye as she ran out to her car and swiftly reversed out of his driveway to begin retracing her route back towards Glendale.
Chapter Nine
