Escape The Grid: Volume 1

by Patrick F. Kelly

  Susan was taking as many mental notes as she could. It all made perfect sense.

  Margaret continued, “I want to have contact with you daily until we have a solid plan. But we can’t let the media find out about this. If anyone knows about the escape, they’ll find out quickly enough about the video surveillance change and then I’ll get pressure to fire you. And I need you, Susan.”

  “I won’t let you down, Madame Secretary.”

  “Don’t let yourself down.”

  41

  MARGARET WAS IN her private SUV riding from the Pentagon to Dixieville. Tonight was the big date with Maxime. For the first time in a long while, she was excited about something outside of work.

  The plan was easy. She changed cars in Fairfax from her private SUV into an off-the-grid vehicle from Linda’s fleet. She left her phone in the SUV so that her whereabouts could not be tracked. She wore a brand new hat and scarf, following Linda’s instructions. She got in the car and said the code word, starting the engine. The vehicle began driving her to Dixieville.

  Get caught and it’s all over.

  She had done her research on Linda and her secret boyfriend Joey. The armpit town of Dixieville too. Margaret’s whole career was built by obtaining critical information, and she didn’t take any chances.

  Well, this date is a little risky… But a girl’s gotta live.

  As she rode, she stared out the window as the urban areas became more rural. She thought about Susan’s call yesterday and her follow-up today.

  She’s too smart for her own good.

  Susan had figured out the Nashville camp breakout way too quickly. Luckily, a second man had escaped. A man who exercised as part of his monthly rent payment.

  Good thing Maxime wasn’t on that plan.

  Margaret questioned bringing Susan into the inner circle. Would she be willing to step into the gray areas? Would she be willing to cross the line when the line needed crossing?

  The Drone Commander project was one such litmus test, and Susan had passed with flying colors. Before the next Presidential election, she would need to coordinate the largest drone war ever fought, taking out fifty or more UR sites. All done without leaks to the media. And Susan would have to lead it all without regrets.

  We can’t afford loose ends in an operation like this.

  The ride from Fairfax to Dixieville was a little less than an hour. Margaret had plenty of time to think.

  She contemplated the date. What would this boy be like? She had given Linda her must-haves and other preferences, but it was all a pipedream. A friend that used Linda in the past had raved about the experience.

  “It’s like being with a beautiful alien,” the woman had said. “They aren’t like any men you’ve ever met. I don’t know where they find them. But they are smart and gorgeous and so refined. It makes you almost want to repeal the FPA.”

  Not bloody likely.

  Margaret knew that with enough money and power, women like her could spend as much time with men as they desired. As long as the FPA was law, she had her pick of the best males in the world.

  No repeal. Not ever.

  Powerful women should have some perks. Who knows, maybe some men deserve a carve-out in the law. A guest worker permit, perhaps. Not a citizen, but not an illegal either. If men like Maxime had guest worker status, maybe that would be better?

  I should enjoy a night out without risking my career.

  There was a package of papers that Linda had left in the car. Margaret picked it up and opened the contents. The first page was tonight’s menu.

  Venison, aged 21-days, free-range hunted in Northern France. Prepared with a fig, rosemary and Port sauce. Potatoes au gratin gruyere. Creme brulee with fresh strawberries. Vin Rouge, Merlot, from the Bordeaux region of France.

  Yummy.

  It was enough to make her start salivating.

  She read through the other papers, which described the security procedures to be expected and the timing on everything. Once she finished reading, she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

  FORTY MINUTES LATER, the car pulled up to a run-down diner on the outskirts of Dixieville. Just as described in the papers, Margaret got out and walked to the door, where Maxime was already standing, holding it open for her.

  She could barely notice the car leaving behind her or the small-town, low-rent surroundings. Everything was just a complete blur on the periphery of Maxime’s luminance.

  He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Stunning. Everything she had asked Linda for multiplied by fifty.

  He smiled at her and she involuntarily beamed back. Every thought of work or government or the risks they were taking were completely annihilated from her psyche.

  She walked through the door and could barely notice the counters, which were much nicer than anything on the outside. All she could see was Maxime and his tuxedo and his gorgeous blonde hair and blue eyes.

  “Welcome to Dixieville,” he said, in the most charming way any words had ever been uttered.

  Margaret was in a daze. She almost slapped her own face to wake up from what must be a dream.

  “Thank you,” she managed to utter.

  He closed the door behind her and led her to their table. It was elegantly placed with a white table cloth from a bygone era and silver utensils. Maxime pulled her chair out for her.

  “My lady,” he said.

  She sat down instinctively, and he pushed her in gently. He took the napkin from the table, unwrapped it from its origami duck shape, and placed it on her lap.

  “Would you like some wine, Madame Secretary? It is a Merlot, which I understand is your favorite. A 2065 Bordeaux, an excellent year.”

  “Yes, please,” she replied. She looked into his eyes and wanted to pinch herself.

  “You’ve seen the menu,” he asked, walking around behind her. “May I take your hat and scarf?”

  “Yes, you may. The menu looks wonderful. I love French food, but it has been a while since I had any.”

  “Too much stress for you, my dear,” Maxime said, unwrapping the scarf and removing both it and the hat. He put them on the chair beside them and began to massage her shoulders.

  “Tonight will be a night that is stress-free. Tonight, you are in Maxime’s hands. I will take good care of you, with your permission.”

  Margaret was a little startled at first but quickly loosened. His hands were strong and warm and her shoulders melted like butter. She could feel her tension dropping by the second. She thought back to her friend’s comment about the guys being “smart and gorgeous and so refined.”

  Maxime could see that she was enjoying the massage, and he continued, working on knots in her upper back as she sat in the chair.

  “The dinner will be out shortly. The figs are from a little town in Greece where they say that Homer wrote the Iliad.”

  “Really,” she asked. “I love figs.”

  “I know. That is why we flew in the best figs in the world, perfectly ripe for you. I’ve also been learning French for you, since I understand that you are a big fan of the country.”

  This guy is too much.

  Margaret actually pinched herself before saying, “Send my regards to Joey. He has outdone himself.”

  Once she said it, she realized that it might be problematic. She tensed up.

  Now he knows that I know his name. That I know about him and Linda.

  “Relax, dear. Why are you so tense? Of course, I will let Joey know. It will make him very happy to hear that.”

  Margaret wasn’t so sure. Linda had never mentioned Joey’s name, so the whole thing may tip them off. She thought about telling Maxime to forget about it, but realized that Joey was most definitely watching and listening to this whole date. The cat was out of the bag. Hopefully it wouldn’t bite her in the ass later.

  “Maxime, the massage is wonderful, but why don’t you sit down?” She was getting back to reality again. Thinking about Joey watching them had spoiled the moment for he
r.

  “But of course, madame.” He walked to the other side of the table and sat down.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Tennessee,” he said. “Well, originally I was from Russia, but my parents adopted me at a young age. I grew up in Tennessee and then lived in a camp outside of Nashville. How about you, Madame Secretary?”

  “Please call me Margaret,” she said. “I was born in Maryland, not too far from here, but it seems like a totally different world.”

  “You have accomplished many things in such a short period of time,” he said.

  “Not that short. I’m over twice your age, Maxime. You don’t need to pretend like I’m not. And I prefer to not talk about my work.”

  “Absolutely, Margaret.”

  A robot rolled up to their table with two plates. Maxime picked them up and served Margaret first and then himself. There was also a bread plate.

  “The venison came from Northern France. The same family has been hunting them over multiple generations and has a large area of woods where they grow a variety of plants specifically for the deer to consume. They shoot them with a special weapon that preserves the flavor, and then they prepare and age them for 21-days and overnight them to DC for our diner.”

  Margaret smiled.

  “I understand that you are fluent in French and love to travel to Paris.”

  “That’s right. And I love the French countryside as well. I actually took a hunting trip like the one you described, using special weapons to help maintain the flavor. I actually killed a deer with a bow and arrow. It was the best venison I ever ate, probably because I killed it myself. That is, until tonight. This dish is exquisite.”

  He smiled. “The port sauce is from an area in Portugal called Cima Corgo. People say that the highest quality Port in the world is made there.”

  “Do you always know this much about cuisine?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m working to learn everything I can about the things that you like, Margaret. My mission in life is to please you, in every possible way.”

  She caught herself blushing. This was too much, but she was loving every minute of it. She looked at her watch.

  “We still have plenty of time,” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Just making sure. I’m regretting now that I only set this first meeting up for four hours. I wish I had more time.”

  “We have all the time in the world, Margaret.”

  “I wish that were true. I can’t kid myself though. If I’m unresponsive for too long, then someone might start looking for me. I can’t change my plans tonight but I definitely want to see you again. And soon. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “I’m here to serve you. I’m free for you tomorrow, Sunday, Monday, and every day after.”

  She smiled and tried to re-adjust to her seat. They still had over two hours together, assuming the trip back to Fairfax would take 40 minutes. She looked down at the food and took another bite.

  Exquisite. Just like Maxime.

  She looked around the diner, which was elegantly furnished on the inside. The robots were old, which she assumed was for security purposes. They were clean and functional; just older models that Margaret hadn’t seen for twenty years. Everything else on the inside was pristine. The outside of the diner looked old and tattered.

  Must be part of the deception. Satellite and drone surveillance would only see the outside.

  They talked and ate for the entire two hours. It was the best date of her life. She laughed, she smiled, the food was delicious and Maxime was adorable. She thought about taking things further with him.

  The packet from Linda described many options, including a private bedroom in the diner. But Margaret worried about leaving her phone and car in Fairfax for too long.

  It’ll be hard enough to explain why I spent four hours in Fairfax.

  With a happy heart and a newfound excitement, she kissed Maxime goodbye and walked out of the diner. The car that brought her was waiting to take her back.

  42

  JULIA’S PLANE from Venezuela landed in DC in the afternoon of Sunday, September 7, a little over a week after the breakout. It had taken far longer than she would have liked to get everything organized, but at least she felt confident in the plan. She couldn’t wait to see Thomas, and the thought of their first encounter had sustained her the last week. He was safe in the little town, and the people Tito had found to help him were doing a wonderful job.

  Since she was traveling lightly, it took very little time to get from the plane to the customs checkpoint. This was the first critical step. Her team had spent considerable time and money to get Julia’s fake profile into systems in Venezuela and the US. She was about to see if their efforts had been enough. She put in her contact lenses which would slightly change her iris scan. She taped a thin film to her middle finger tips to alter the prints.

  She walked up to the passport control counter, and the automatic door closed behind her. She was now in a sealed room, reinforced with carbon-nanotubes ten times stronger than steel. If she were red-flagged, security guards would come to pick her up and there was no chance of escape.

  She looked into the wall screen, as directed, and a scanner read the irises of both of her eyes. She put her hands on the wall and it scanned all ten fingerprints. Instantly, the screen went green and showed her profile. Maria Garcia, Vice President of the Venezuela Petroleum Consortium, approved for a two-week visit to DC.

  Julia breathed a sigh of relief. The team had been successful. The first critical milestone was complete.

  “Health scan,” the system said. “Breathe normally. This will only take a moment.”

  Julia knew that the system was scanning her body’s temperature for fever-like symptoms. She assumed that instruments were measuring the inner chamber for air-borne bacteria, viral profiles, and other pathogens that she might have emitted. Standard border security to minimize the spread of disease.

  “Cleared,” the wall screen said, and the sealed door in front of her opened. As she walked into the hall, the door shut behind her to prepare for the next person. The entire process had taken less than a minute, although it felt like much more.

  On to the next milestone, Ms. Maria.

  Julia walked out of the protected area of the DC airport and began looking for Linda. She instantly saw an older woman with graying, black hair holding a sign that said simply “Maria Garcia”. Julia got Linda’s attention and walked to her. Linda smiled and put down the sign.

  “How was the flight?” she asked.

  “Uneventful, thank you. Linda, right?”

  “Yes. Nice to meet you. I have a car waiting for us outside. Please, follow me.”

  Julia complied and within minutes they were speeding out of the DC airport.

  “Is it far from here?” Julia asked.

  “About an hour. Not too bad. I can get you up to speed on everything during the trip. Have you ever been to the States?”

  “Yeah, I’m from Miami, but I haven’t been back in a long time.”

  Linda smiled, “I love Miami. When you were here, did you deal with security scanners on the roads?”

  “I’m not really familiar with them, no,” Julia replied.

  Linda continued, “Well, after the FPA, they updated a lot of their security scanners to look for males. But the technology is far from perfect, and it’s too expensive to put it on every single road. The car we are giving you has a navigation system in it programmed to know where the scanners are. The software was updated yesterday and it hasn’t failed us yet, but you never know when a city or town will add a scanner. And since your drive is so long, there is a good chance that you’ll run into something on your route.”

  “What happens if there is a scanner on my route?”

  “Well, that’s what I was getting to. The car is about forty years old and has been retrofitted for smuggling humans. The software and scanners are older technology, so they don’t talk to the grid like the new car
s do. That’s for your protection, since the new cars are far easier for the NSA to track. This car is virtually unknown to the NSA systems. That is good in many ways, but if you go past a scanner and the car doesn’t reply to the scanner’s pings, then the scanner will search longer and flag you. We haven’t been flagged yet because we have stayed off the main roads, but your trip is longer. If you get flagged, we’ll be able to figure it out and we’ll call you and let you know whatever we learn.”

  “You mentioned a smuggling container. If I keep the man in there, will the scanners be able to detect him?”

  “We don’t think so, but scanning technology gets better every year and any scanners you hit will be ones not known to our system, which means that they are probably new scanners using new technology. Listen, we brought our guy out here from the same Nashville camp to DC in the same car we’re selling you. The system has worked for multiple extractions. The smuggling containers have worked in multiple tests. But I’m just trying to give you the brutal truth. We can’t guarantee your safety because the route is so long and we have never taken it.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now, we sold you the car, but we have our own safety to worry about. If you get caught and the authorities find the car, they may be able to track it back to us. For sure, they will learn from what we did and take more precautions against it. For that reason, the car is lined with an explosive material that can be detonated remotely. If we think that the authorities are about to acquire the vehicle, we will blow it up to protect ourselves. Is that clear?”

  Julia was shocked. “What? That sounds like a real danger to my mission.”