by James T Wood
Pairing together the suspicious state of his computer files and the fact that he didn’t exist prior to getting arrested made me nervous. I made a mental note to not respond to Craigslist ads like that in the future. In hindsight it seems to have been a mistake.
Just out of curiosity I started searching for Anka. She wasn’t too hard to track down when I added ‘Seattle’ to the search. Again, though, nothing much showed up. She has a Facebook page, but it’s so bland as to be non-existent. Her friends are all only friends with each other, it’s a closed loop. That doesn’t happen in real life. Her pictures are all awkwardly candid, as if someone posed them that way. She also had a graduation record from the University of Washington, class of 2008, and a blog with pictures of kittens on it. I went to the UW site and looked for pictures of Anka. Yes, I wanted to see what she looked like in college. But when I got there I found nothing. There were no yearbook photos, no candid shots, and no sorority pictures.
Just like Grosskopf, Anka’s online existence had a finite start date and very little real information. I resolved to confront her about my discovery and sat there rehearsing what I’d say when Stacy came out and requested that I join her. I got up slowly and stepped through the curtained doorway with Stacy. She gestured to a padded bench that faced a wall with mirrors on it.
“She’ll be right out.”
“Okay.” What else could I say?
I waited a moment and then Anka walked out. She moved like she was on a catwalk in Paris, strutting out and spinning so the skirt flared out. The skirt was red, plaid, knee-length and pleated. She had high, brown boots on that came up to just below her knees, so only a small strip of skin showed. Her shirt was a fitted, gray tank-top with a satin sheen and a bit of lacy frill around the neckline. Over that she wore a blue jacket that accentuated her hourglass figure. I must have been sitting with my mouth open for a while.
“So, does that mean you like it?”
“Uh…”
“I think that’s a yes,” Stacy translated for me.
“Uh-huh.”
Anka spun again, flaring out the skirt, and quite a bit, before turning back to me and grinning at my slack-jawed appreciation.
“We’ll take it.”
“Very good, would you like me to package it up for you?”
“Can I wear it out?”
“By all means. Let me just gather your other clothes. I’ll meet you at the register just out there.”
We followed Stacy’s gesture and stood next to the register. I wanted to ask how much all this was going to cost (I had to hacky hard for that money), but the combined effect of Anka’s unabashed joy and her gorgeous appearance made me shut my mouth. We stood for a moment waiting when I glanced around the store. Mostly I was looking around to keep myself from staring at Anka, though my eyes kept coming back to her. On the second or third pass I saw something familiar. I still continued back to Anka before my brain registered that it was something I’d seen before, so I had to scan back through to figure out what it was.
The burly twins were in Nordstrom.
I spotted them in the shoe section across the way. They didn’t appear to see us, yet. I nudged Anka and pointed them out.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, that’s about right. What are we going to do?”
“We have to go, now.”
“What about your clothes? You have to pay for them?”
“There’s money in my pants.”
“What about your phone and the photos you took?”
“Damn, you’re right.”
We went back toward the dressing room where Stacy was just coming out with a bag.
“Here are your clothes. Just give me a moment and we can have you all taken care of. Would you like to apply for a Nordstrom card today?”
“No thank you. What’s the total?”
“Well, let’s see. The boots, the skirt—that’s one of my favorite designers, by the way— and the top…oh and the jacket. That should be…”
I was about ready to throw a wad of cash at Stacy and take off running when she announced the total. I nearly lost my fear of Cuban criminals from the shock of hearing how much one outfit costs. Without flinching, Anka pulled out the cash and gave it to Stacy.
“No change, thank you. You were so helpful.”
How could she be polite at a time like this? As soon as the transaction was done, I wanted to run, but Anka forced me to walk calmly. We headed in the opposite direction from the twins, but we would still have to cross the main walkway to get to the door. We’d be exposed and they would probably see us. I was tensed to run at a moment’s notice, but Anka whispered to me to keep calm and walk normally.
“I can’t really keep calm when people who’ve tried to kill us are just a few feet away.”
“Don’t worry about them. We can deal with it. Right now, you just need to breathe.”
I focused on my breathing and the agonizing pace of our walk to the door. I reached out to push it open when I heard the shout from behind me.
“There they are, stop them!”
Grreat
We ran.
As soon as we got outside it was clear to me that Anka couldn’t go very far or fast with her new boots. Sure they were cute, but the heels made it impossible for her to run and she couldn’t stop to take them off.
“I’ll draw their attention, you try and slip away in the crowd.”
I pulled her across the street to Pioneer Square. What was it with the burly twins and attacking me here? Once we got into the crowd around the Starbucks entrance I pushed Anka in and then edged out toward the street. As soon as Leif Burleson and Burls the Red popped out of Nordstrom I took off running due east, away from Anka. Every few steps I’d check behind me to make sure both of the twins were following. They were in pursuit, so I pushed the pace a bit using my Parkour skills. I leapfrogged people in my way, jumped over strollers and dodged through the trees on the sidewalk.
A few blocks down from the square I spotted a parking garage on the north side of the street. I cut through traffic, sliding across the hood of a car at the last second, and ran into the garage. I figured my new skills would serve me well inside and give me a chance to lose the Burl-esques. I made sure they could see me as they came inside and then ran around a corner up to the next level of the garage. I was looking for a good place to lure them in so I could escape and leave them behind. Finally I saw the perfect spot, it was an alcove where three parking spots fit between some machinery on either side. At the top of the alcove was a small opening, about six feet off the ground, where the next level of the garage was visible.
I slowed down enough for the twins to catch up and then ran straight for the alcove. Once they followed me I used my Parkour wall-climbing skills to launch up with just a couple steps. I gripped the top to pull myself up to the next level just as the twins came up behind me. Perfect, I thought.
But then I couldn’t pull myself up. I gripped the ledge with my hands, but I didn’t have the strength to get up the wall. I scrambled to get a grip with my feet, but I couldn’t get enough leverage to push myself higher. So I dangled from the ledge, furiously trying to claw my way to the top while the Cubans slowly walked up behind me. One of them reached up, grabbed my shirt and pulled me down. The one-foot fall was disappointingly small for the amount of effort I’d exerted in climbing. But, I guess you have to ascend to call it climbing. I did use a lot of energy in my hanging, though.
“Llame El Tigre.”
“Oh, are you calling Tony? I hear he’s grrreat!”
Blank stares. I guess the humor was lost on them. The Burly that pulled me down held my arm behind my back to keep me immobile. I tried to use one of my MMA moves, but nothing dislodged his grip. I assuaged my hurt pride with the knowledge that Anka had gotten away. She would, hopefully, find a way to rescue me from the Cubans. At least these people didn’t want me dead, unlike her boss.
After the phone call to Antonio, we just stood there waiting for a
while. They didn’t seem too interested in conversation. I tried though.
“What happened to your face? That must have been some fight. I suppose I should see the other guy. Am I right? Nothing? Really? This is comic-gold you’re getting here.”
If I’m honest, and there’s no reason to not be honest with you, I was making jokes to avoid peeing my pants. I’ve never been a tough guy. My first, and only, fight in school was when I was in the fourth grade. A kid pushed me so I tried to kick him. He grabbed my foot and pushed again. My backpack sent me off balance and I fell over backward.
The very next physical conflict for me was the twins in the square. I’m not a violent guy, so all this car-chasey, gun-fighty, spy-droney stuff had me very nervous. Humor was one of my only defenses.
A stretch Cadillac Escalade drove up next to us and the door opened. Sitting there staring at me was Anka. For a moment I thought she was working with the Cubans, but then I saw worry and fear cover her face as she recognized me. A man slid past her and stepped out. He could have been Antonio Banderas’ brother, tall, dark and Latino. He swaggered toward me in an immaculately tailored white suit with a bright red tie and pocket square. His thick, black hair was slicked back against his head giving him the appearance of a swimmer just exiting the pool.
“¿Es este el?”
“Si, El Tigre.”
“Bueno.”
“What do you want?”
His slow smile was chilling because of the genuine joy in it. He answered me in English with a thick accent.
“I want what’s in your head, Señor.”
“Cool. You can have it. I don’t want it anymore.”
His smile turned into a grin.
“Gracias, mi amigo.”
“Denada.”
He walked back toward the Cadillac and got in.
“Ponlo en el coche, nos vamos.”
The twins pushed me into the back of the car next to Anka. Antonio and his men sat on the bench seat facing us. When the door closed, the SUV started moving out of the parking garage.
“Are you okay?” I asked Anka.
She said nothing in reply, but I felt a slight increase in pressure from her shoulder against mine. I had no idea what she meant by that.
“Where are you taking us?”
Antonio’s smile returned, but he didn’t answer. So, I tried again.
“Look, I’ve already agreed to help you get this…thing out of my head. You don’t need to play tough. I’m not trying to resist.”
El Tigre didn’t look at me, but at Anka.
“He doesn’t know?”
“No.”
The laugh that erupted was as genuine as the smile and equally terrifying.
“What don’t I know? Anka?”
“You don’t know that this can’t be taken out of your brain.”
“You mean it’s permanent? Then what good am I to these guys? What good am I to you?”
Anka looked at Antonio to see if she should answer. He just kept staring at me with his gleeful smile, so Anka told me the truth.
“It is permanent. It will be with you as long as you live. But they can study your brain to figure out what Dr. Grosskopf did and how they can replicate it.”
I looked at her for a while, I guess my face showed her that I didn’t understand the ramifications of her explanation, so she clarified for me.
“Corey, they’ll test you for as long as they can learn something from you alive and then they’ll cut out your brain to finish the process.”
I instantly regretted giving up so quickly and I started looking around for a way to escape.
“Don’t, Corey.” Anka read my mind, “We can’t get away and no one knows where we are. My boss isn’t coming to save us. It’s over.”
I couldn’t believe that she’d be giving up too. I figured that she’d fight to the last moment. Maybe, I thought, she was planning something but didn’t want to let the Cubans know about it. That must be it, I reasoned, she wouldn’t concede. I relaxed into the seat and felt her press against my shoulder again. I guessed that it was confirmation of my logic. She was still fighting, just not right now. Now was the time to be patient.
Cubano Tango
After learning that my future likely held torture, pain and then de-brainification I found I didn’t have much more to say. We sat silently for the rest of the trip. The Cadillac wound on to the freeway and then east toward the airport. I thought about what I could do, what MMA or Parkour skills I could employ to affect our escape. After my spectacular failure in the parking garage I was hesitant to trust my abilities too much. I figured that the problem wasn’t as much with my mimicking ability, but with my physical capabilities. My brain perfectly matched what I saw on the Parkour video, but my fingers lack the strength to pull me up a sheer wall like the guys on YouTube. That makes a world of difference in how I employ this ability. It’s less like a superpower and almost more of a liability. I can’t know that I’m physically capable of doing something until I try it, but I’m not trying things until I need the ability. I suddenly remembered “The Greatest American Hero” from when I was a kid.
“What are you whistling? Stop it.” Antonio sounded angry.
“Sorry,” I apologized. I didn’t realize that I’d started whistling “Believe it or Not (I’m Walking on Air).”
I glanced over at Anka to see her smiling. At least she enjoyed it.
We arrived at the airport and I still didn’t have a plan to get away. I hoped that Anka was working on something brilliant because I had nothing. The driver pulled the Escalade up to the drop-off zone at PDX and we piled out of the back. The twins kept close to us so we had no space to run off into the crowd. We all trooped into the terminal and Antonio led us to a side door where a guard checked his identification. After a brief radio conversation, we were admitted to the corridor. I never even knew this Spartan hallway existed at the airport, but we walked through, past security, past all the shops and restaurants, and past the gates. At the end we stepped out onto the tarmac facing a private jet.
“You will, of course, be my guests on our flight to Cuba.”
“Of course,” I said, defeated.
We climbed the stairs into the jet and the twins led us to our seats. Antonio spoke briefly with the pilot before coming back to join us. He smiled and sat down.
“May I use the restroom?” Anka sounded sullen and defeated.
“Of course, it’s just back that way.”
“Thank you.”
“Denada.”
Anka got up and walked to the back of the plane while I desperately struggled for some plan that would keep us in Portland and, more importantly, not dead in Cuba. Before long the jet started to taxi toward the runway. The pilot came over the intercom and announced something in Spanish that must have been an alert to buckle up since Antonio and one of the twins put on their belts. With a gesture from El Tigre the other twin went to the back and knocked on the door to the bathroom. Just as he knocked, Anka opened the door and brusquely pushed past him.
“It’s time to buckle up.”
She sat without looking at me and put on her safety belt. I followed her lead because I didn’t have anything better to offer. After several minutes of taxiing we got to the runway and the pilot announced something else. I’m guessing it was that we were cleared for takeoff since he revved the jet engines and we sped down the runway. Just as I started to get that heavy feeling from the plane starting to climb I heard the pilot again. This time he sounded worried.
Antonio and the twins looked at each other sharply and then looked at us. The pilot screamed something and then the plane lurched to the left. I felt the moment when the right wing touched the ground. The grating sound vibrated the whole plane for a moment before the wing snapped off and the jet started to roll over. After it flipped upside down, the left wing caught on the tarmac and stopped the roll. We were all hanging from our seat belts and stunned. I felt the pressure across my lap as I was trying to reorient my
mind and body to being inverted.
The pressure disappeared and I dropped to the ceiling of the cabin. Anka picked me up and whispered urgently.
“We have to get out of here.”
I followed her in the darkened plane toward the back. Just as we got to the rear door the, now familiar, concussion of an explosion hit us from the front of the plane. I looked back in time to see the nose of the jet disappear in flame. Anka yanked on the door handle and kicked it open before dragging me through. We rolled on the ground for a moment before running.
She pulled at my sleeve and directed me to run straight back behind the jet with the nose pointing away from us. I glanced back over my shoulder to see the giant black plume of smoke billowing up from the burning wreckage as another explosion destroyed the back half of the plane.
We sprinted across the runway toward the high grass surrounding it, Anka pulled me down into the shallow ditch and we laid flat on the ground.
“Um…What the hell just happened?”
Anka giggled, “I texted my boss when I was in the bathroom.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“He wants me dead, remember. I told him that I thought the Cubans had tried to kill me and now they were taking us to Cuba and requested immediate evac. He must have traced the GPS on the phone and sent another drone in to kill us off.”
“Wow. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t think of it until I was in the bathroom. I really thought we were going to die in Cuba.”
“Me too. Now, how do we not die in Portland?”
“First thing is we need to stay here until the drone leaves. Can you see it?”
I army-crawled around to try and get a view of the burning jet. At first I couldn’t see the drone at all, but eventually I noticed it hovering low and off to the right. Fire trucks were getting close to the scene from the left, and as soon as they got there, the quad-drone drifted off and disappeared over the Columbia to the north.
