Hide and Seek

by H. L. Wegley

  Unless he fell and injured himself he was home free. He would soon see Jennifer.

  But there’s something else I need to see first.

  Moving through the trees towards the cave of destiny he had, at most, sixty seconds to hide himself. After running nearly one hundred yards he leaped off the trail and onto a stretch of bare limestone rock protruding up from the mountain’s back side. This vein of limestone ran for a considerable distance perpendicular to his tracks and towards a saddle located between the limestone spire and a smaller peak to the southwest. He would hide at the saddle.

  In less than thirty seconds, trees hid him and he was nearly half way to his camouflaged hiding place in the saddle. The saddle lay nearly one-quarter mile from the cave of destiny, two hundred feet higher and nearly one-quarter mile closer to Jennifer and safety. It provided a view of the area near the opening of the cave.

  While he scampered towards his hiding place he recalculated the amount of time he gave Jennifer to summon the police. If this plan failed he might be leading the goons down to houses where innocent people resided.

  She had at least thirty minutes already, but it should take only five or ten minutes to summon the police. The events of last night undoubtedly resulted in every patrolman in the state looking for Jennifer, him, and a bunch of gunmen.

  Lee put that worry out of his mind, but another worry quickly replaced it.

  Jennifer was going to be concerned.

  No. That’s a euphemism.

  She would be furious when he arrived. She didn’t expect him to take this long—not nearly this long and he had made a promise to her.

  He held onto one hope. When he told her what he did to the goons maybe she would forgive him. He’d seen enough to know forgiveness was not a certainty. Would their kiss in the cave help his cause?

  The more he thought about it, his plan smacked of masculine pride. That fact might make her even angrier. If he pulled this off he would have a story a guy could tell his kids and his grandkids. But if Jennifer didn’t forgive him he might be telling his story to fellow convicts in Leavenworth.

  Lee skirted the clearing below the saddle and settled into his observation point. As soon as they topped the ridge the goons found his tracks and headed down the trail. They moved quickly, but they were being cautious.

  At this rate they would reach the cave in about three minutes. He started timing them with the second hand on his watch. At two minutes and forty-five seconds three goons emerged from the trees and stood in front of the rise leading up to the cave’s mouth. All three carried assault rifles.

  The three spread out in a single row. Shoulder-to-shoulder they walked slowly up the slope. When they topped the rise and saw the mouth of the cave they stopped abruptly.

  He chuckled.

  They probably weren’t excited about any more spelunking adventures. But the trail was hot and he watched as they entered the wide mouth of the cave three abreast.

  He knew what would happen next. Lee and his buddy entered similarly nineteen years ago. They never went near that cave again in the spring.

  A loud shriek came from the cave far below.

  He couldn’t stifle his laughter. He didn’t need to.

  The screams of the three goons became too loud for them to hear anything but each other.

  While he convulsed with belly-shaking laughter, the goons repeatedly yelled two words, “awrah” and “haraam.” He seemed to recall from his study of Islam, that the words meant something like nakedness and forbidden.

  Lee remembered how it was for him when the screaming started. His exposed skin began itching and burning within a second. His entire form became black, coated with evil, crawling, hopping fleas—fleas left by hibernating bears two or three weeks earlier.

  After the bears left the fleas multiplied without a host until there were millions of ravenous insects desperate for blood. One bite could make a person wince and scratch. Multiply it by ten thousand and the pain became unbearable. Clothing did nothing to stop the fleas’ inexorable conquest of every square inch of skin on the human body.

  He had felt contaminated, beyond any hope of being clean again, and he worried about dread diseases the little pests sometimes carried.

  The three goons ran from the cave littering the ground behind them with their clothing. They weren’t carrying their guns. This was better than he hoped for. They had dropped their weapons in the cave after they were shrink-wrapped in fleas.

  A shrill scream pierced his ears.

  Was one of the goons a gooness?

  He moved to his right around a small pond fed by an underground spring. After jumping down an embankment and onto the road he began his run. He ran to set a world record in the downhill eight hundred meters—running towards civilized people, the police, safety, and Jennifer.

  As he ran a question crossed his mind. Would the goons go back into the cave to get their guns? No way this side of…well…this side of the place the goons felt they were in.

  16

  Standing in the Benson’s backyard near the shop, the makeshift command post, Jennifer stewed, worried, and stewed some more. Lee promised he would complete his plan and be here shortly after she arrived.

  What does shortly mean? Ten minutes? Fifteen?

  It had been forty-five minutes since Jennifer started her run down the mountain. He should have been here thirty minutes ago. A lot could happen in thirty minutes. Too much.

  Everything Jennifer thought and felt in those last few minutes with Lee came rushing back to her mind and heart. Despite the attack on them it wasn’t supposed to be like this. What had happened to the Jennifer Akihara she knew so well? Where was the woman who only wanted to protect herself from men—the woman who would never pray? Maybe the goons really did kill someone Friday night, the old Jennifer. In her place was a woman Lee called Jenn. But she could only be Jenn if Lee made it safely down the mountain.

  Would this God she recently became aware of permit her to lose another person she cared for as He did with her father? Wrestling with that question brought Lee’s prayer to mind, the one he prayed before they left the cave.

  God could take care of Lee. She believed that.

  But what if Lee doesn’t take care of Lee? What if he took too many chances?

  When Jennifer’s thoughts intensified they became furious words and emotions which she vented. “If God comes through for him, maybe He’s a God I can trust. But I’m going to kill Lee when he gets down here, anyway. I’m going to kill him!”

  Officer Robbins rounded the corner of the house and clutched her shoulders to prevent a collision. “You do that, young lady, and I’ll have to arrest you.”

  There was authority in his voice, but a wide grin on his face.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head. Her cheeks were hot. Probably glowing red.

  What happened to Jennifer Akihara? Will someone please tell me?

  17

  As Lee ran from his camouflaged hiding place on the saddle, the shouts and shrieks of the goons echoed between the two peaks. He turned his head towards the cave of destiny and spoke some encouragement.

  “Eat’em alive, guys.”

  The fleas, by their very nature, would do their best to comply. Now it was time to go plead his case with Jennifer.

  When Lee broke into an all out sprint he let gravity share in the process. The joy of a mission completed and thoughts of the person waiting for him gave him a surge of energy.

  Ninety seconds later Lee stood in front of house number two, hands on hips and out of breath. This had to be the place. It looked like center ring in a three-ring circus.

  Jennifer seemed to stir things up wherever she went.

  He scanned the array of vehicles and equipment around him for a few seconds. Thankfully, there were enough police cars to deter the gunmen even if they were miraculously delivered from the fleas.

  The safety issue settled; he began looking for Jennifer. As he stood repaying his oxygen debt a midd
le-aged man approached.

  “You must be Lee Brandt. Half the county and a certain young lady have been waiting for you. I know, because I’ve been watching it on TV. Hi. I’m Walt Benson.”

  “Mr. Benson, you mean all those vans—”

  “Yep. Media mania. All have cameras rolling right now. Probably trained on us.”

  Lee cocked his head and frowned. “But why isn’t Jennifer here?”

  Mr. Benson raised his fist and pointed his thumb behind him. “The police set up temporary headquarters out back in my shop out of reach of the media. I’ve heard some folks from the metropolitan area JTTF are on their way here now. You’ll be meeting with them in my shop.”

  Lee heard a familiar voice. It wasn’t whispering.

  “I don’t care. I’m going out there, anyway.”

  He turned towards the voice.

  Jennifer strode around the corner of the house. Her furious pace apparently reflected her mood.

  He braced himself for the verbal barrage.

  It came when she broke into a run fifteen yards away. “Lee Brandt, I’m going to kill you!” Jennifer yelled, causing every head within two hundred yards to turn towards her. She smashed into Lee, still yelling. “Don’t ever lie to me again!”

  He stepped backward.

  This is gonna be worse than I anticipated.

  How could he defuse Jennifer?

  Before he found an appropriate reply Jennifer drew her hand back. She was going to slap his face to the next county.

  Her words stopped. She dropped her hand. Tears began to flow.

  I hate it when women do that.

  Mostly he hated the pain their tears inflicted. But this time the pain prompted an impulse. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he acted on his feelings, but whatever the price, holding Jennifer seemed worth it. If it required running to the next county to retrieve his face, so be it. He stepped forward wrapping his arms around her, embracing both her and the reality that they were together, alive, and safe.

  As they stood on the Benson’s front lawn, a huddle of two, he wanted to console her. “Jenn I’ve got some good news, our—”

  “There can’t be any good news now.” More tears streaked her face.

  He pulled her head against his cheek and spoke softly. “What do you mean, can’t be any good news?”

  She put her arms around him hiding her face in his chest. “I’ve just made a complete fool of myself in front of the entire world.”

  He looked up at the five or six media vans along the street. Each video camera was pointed at Jennifer and him. He was afraid to agree with her statement, but he knew better than to disagree. “Oh, boy, we’re never going to live this down.”

  “See what I mean?” Jennifer sobbed, looking up at him.

  He looked down into her face. It was a perfect face and the perfect moment. “Do you really want me to tell you what I see?”

  “No, Lee…not here.” Jennifer said the words, but she offered no resistance.

  At the upturned face, he could think of nothing else to do but to kiss her—long and shamelessly—in front of the entire world. While he did, the cameras continued to roll.

  When their lips separated he was the one who pulled back. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”

  She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I still do. But I can wait a few minutes.”

  18

  Lee and Jennifer looked up at the sound of people shouting. All around the three-ring circus, people clapped and voiced their approval—everyone except the cameramen, who were too busy shooting video.

  Lee knew he would have questions to answer at his next men’s accountability meeting. He didn’t care. The kiss was worth it.

  Thankfully, their position at center ring was short-lived.

  A black sedan pulled in front of the Benson’s house and the crowd buzzed when two men in suits emerged. The two walked straight towards Jennifer and him as they stood arm-in-arm on the lawn.

  The tall man spoke first. “Hello, I’m Agent Peterson, FBI. This is my assistant, Agent Bastian.”

  “I’m Lee Brandt and this is Jennifer Akihara.”

  The assistant stepped in front of the main man, Peterson. Not a good thing to do.

  “Ms. Akahari, good to meet you.” His gaze, lingered on Jennifer longer than Lee thought appropriate, and then Bastian dismissed her and turned towards him. “Lee, where can we get some privacy?”

  Wherever they found this guy…they need to stop looking there.

  He stared into the man’s eyes. “Her name is Akihara, Jennifer Akihara. Ms. Akihara has made arrangements with Officer Robbins of the Kerbyville police to use the shop behind the Bensons’ house for us to ‘get some privacy’.”

  Peterson scowled. But, for the moment, he seemed to be watching his underling like he was feeding him rope.

  Lee squeezed Jennifer’s hand hoping she understood that he wanted to deal with this guy.

  She gave Lee a squinting frown then a nod.

  Good. Rather than wait for an opportunity he would create one. “Why don’t you show our FBI friends the area you and Officer Robbins set up.”

  “We should keep the group down to a minimum—just those who know and those who need to know. So, do we really need Miss Aka—uh…Akihara?” Bastian spoke again.

  This guy was continuing just like he started, foot in mouth, brains in neutral.

  Lee’s mouth opened, but Jennifer beat him to the verbal punch. One glance at her cool, staring eyes made it clear. She was primed to deliver a knockout blow. He closed his mouth.

  You’d better duck, Bastian.

  Jennifer’s gaze locked on Bastian’s face. “Mr. Bastian, do you sometimes use data and reports from NSA?”

  Bastian hesitated and turned towards Peterson. “Peterson, uh…is it OK for me to answer that?”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes.

  Even Lee knew the fact that the FBI used intelligence reports from NSA was not classified information.

  Peterson nodded to Bastian. Peterson covered his mouth with his hand. Was he struggling to keep a straight face, or yawning?

  “Yes we do.” Bastian replied.

  Jennifer’s gaze switched to laser mode. “Then you are undoubtedly familiar with my work, if you do read reports and use data provided to you by NSA. My name, again, is Jennifer Akihara.”

  A question and a statement from Jennifer and Bastian was already backpedaling. “Oh, that Jennifer Akihara.”

  Lee didn’t have a clue whether Bastian had actually read Jennifer’s work. But the name evidently clicked with him.

  Peterson sighed and stepped in front of his underling. “Jennifer is needed here for several reasons. And, Bastian, she has a higher clearance than you do. Show us the way, Miss Akihara.”

  When they entered the shop the assortment of equipment indicated this was a large woodshop. In an open area several chairs sat configured in a circle. They each picked a chair and sat down.

  Jennifer chose a chair beside Lee. That was a good sign. Maybe the kiss did the trick.

  He glanced at her face.

  Maybe not.

  Officer Robbins came in as they were being seated. “Good to see you, Lee—even better to see you still in one piece.”

  “Good to see you too, Dan. Jennifer, Dan Robbins is one of the friends on the Kerbyville police force whom I mentioned last night.”

  “Lee, we met an hour ago. You’ll never know what a relief it was to meet him.”

  “Yeah. He was probably the first person you’d seen with a gun since yesterday evening who wasn’t pointing it at you.”

  Jennifer glared at him. Evidently she didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor. Maybe Dan would.

  He turned his gaze back to Dan. “We tried to make it to Kerbyville before sunrise, Dan, but I thought spending the day in a cave with Jennifer sounded more romantic.”

  “That’s enough, Lee. Climbing a one-hundred foot goo-covered rock wall in the dark is anything but romantic.”
>
  “But you gotta’ admit, Jenn, the view from the top was worth it.” He scanned Jennifer’s face—a face hidden from him until it was lit by the opening at the top of the chimney, the place where Jennifer kissed him.

  She shot him a frowning glance. “Very funny.”

  Evidently, she didn’t want to be reminded.

  Peterson pursed his lips. His face looked like he wanted to pound a gavel and demand for order in the court. He took a calming breath. “Jennifer, just to let you and Lee know, a few minutes ago we received a report from Trooper Brower, who was sent to check out the vehicles.”

  Her eyes widened. “Was my car OK?”

  Peterson nodded. “Yes, but due to unusual circumstances, Brower was forced to stop the SUV by ramming it. Brower is OK, just needed a couple of stitches.”

  Lee leaned forward towards Peterson. “So you got the goons, right?”

  Peterson’s eyebrows nearly touched at his question. “We…we got one of them.”

  Frowning, Lee slid forward in his chair. “Have you gotten anything out of him?”

  “Actually, it was a she. Unfortunately…she was dead at the scene. Not from the collision. From a bullet through her head. Evidently the uh…goons considered her expendable. The funny thing was…a red rash completely covered her body.”

  Jennifer’s mouth fell open. “You mean one of the goons was a woman?”

  The capture of the goons wasn’t playing out quite like he had planned. He frowned and shook his head. “What about the others?”

  “It appears there were two others. One was apparently injured in the crash. We don’t know about the third one. We suspect both are still in the area so we have set up several roadblocks and initiated a large-scale search. We’ve notified the residents in the area to assume these men are armed and dangerous and to keep their doors locked.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

  Peterson answered it.

  A hand reached in and gave him a slip of paper. He read it and looked up at his understudy. “Bastian, Agent Stewart from NSA arrived at the Kerbyville police station. I want you to personally escort him here.”