by Trevor Scott
It was not a huge drop to the first time they hit, but then they continued to roll, bouncing off rocks and crashing through the small trees between them, until they hit an opening. Then they started to slide down the embankment of snow, sliding through trees whipping them in their face, until their final plunge into the icy water.
If the water had been deeper, they might have ended up at the bottom of the river, never to rise again. But the small pool they hit was only a couple of feet deep.
Jake struggled to his feet, disoriented. He saw Su face down in the pool.
He slung her around and dragged her to the embankment. He gave her mouth-to-mouth until she released some water and started coughing.
Pulling out a pen light, he looked her over for injuries. She had a few scratches on her face, but nothing serious. He moved his hands over her body, trying to check for broken bones.
Her breathing improved and she shook her head. “Usually I demand dinner before we get to this point,” she said.
“Very funny. Any pain?”
“How about a loss of dignity?” She sat up, struggling against the backpack.
“That only counts if one falls and not the other.” He ran his hands down each arm until he got to her left wrist.
“Oww.”
Slowly, Jake worked her sleeve up and saw the black and blue and the swelling.
“Broken?” she asked.
“Afraid so.” He put her sleeve down. Then he glanced up the mountain. “We’ve gotta get going.”
He pulled her to her feet and then they both realized the real problem. They were wet from the waist up, and the backpacks had taken on water, which made them heavier. Worse yet, the cold wind would have them lose heat as fast as their bodies produced it.
Together they worked their way down the mountain stream, which gained width with their progress. The only thing that saved them from hypothermia was their constant movement.
Once the river hit a small step, they stopped to catch their breath.
“I don’t hear them behind us,” Su said, her breathing labored and her good hand gently rubbing the broken wrist.
Jake didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out the light and dug into his backpack. He found his phone and tried to pick up a signal.
Nothing.
“Damn it,” he said.
Su gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at Jake.
“What?”
She said something in Chinese as she moved closer, her good hand moving to the left side of Jake’s face. “You have a huge gash here,” she said.
He pulled off his gloves and felt at his head, finding crusted blood and eventually a raised area at his left temple, which was still sticky with oozing blood. He winced in pain as he touched the cut area.
“Great.”
Digging into his backpack he found a small Ziploc bag with a few items inside. It held small bandages, band-aids and tape. But first he needed something else. There. He found a small tube of super glue.
“Could you help me?” he asked her. “Squeeze some of this on the wound.”
“That’s glue,” she protested.
“Just do it.”
She shrugged and then did what he asked with her good hand. “You crazy.”
Next he pulled out a couple of butterfly bandages and had her pull the wound together.
“That should work,” he said, putting everything back into his pack. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t think they’re following us,” she said.
“Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter. If we don’t get out of these clothes, we’ll be stiff as a board by morning.”
She agreed with her silent nod.
They moved downstream a little slower now, spending more time on the bank than in the water.
Although his clothes were heavy with the stream water, Jake still had not caught a chill. Perhaps it was the constant movement. Maybe it was the clothes he had gotten from Su’s uncle. Either way, he was thankful for that one luxury. Now if only he could get the information, the photos he had taken, uploaded on the cell phone. That might have to wait until they reached the valley. Something in the mountains was blocking the signal.
After a while the terrain started to get less steep, and the river changed from a gurgling churn to a wider ripple. He checked his watch. The sun would be starting to come up within an hour or so.
But one question kept seeping up to the front of his mind. Why had the soldiers stopped following them?
He got his answer in a few minutes, and it made Jake and Su stop dead in their tracks alongside the river.
The familiar sound of a helicopter rose up from the valley below.
Now came the chill.
26
By the time Cliff Johansen felt safe to exit the bank, his breathing had finally started to get back to normal. Instead of going out the back door to the parking lot, he exited the front door to the downtown sidewalk.
Just as he reached the sidewalk, a hand grasped his neck and shoved him forward against a brown Ford Taurus.
Instinctively, his hands caught his fall on the top of the car.
“Get in,” came a harsh woman’s voice.
He tried to turn around, when an elbow smashed him in the mouth, disorienting him and bringing tears to his eyes.
All he remembered next was being shoved into the back seat, a person jumping in next to him, and the car pulling away from the curb.
“You got her?” the woman’s voice asked the driver.
“Three blocks up she took a left,” the man said.
Cliff rubbed the tears from his eyes and then tried to stop his bleeding lip. He shook his head to get his vision.
“Take my money,” Cliff said. “I don’t have much, though.”
The woman laughed. “You gotta be the dumbest mother fucker in Oregon.”
Cliff shrugged. “What?”
“Like we really want cash from you.” She considered pulling out her I.D. and flashing it in his face, but then thought of something better. “We would like the final account where you just sent that half a million bucks.”
Cliff’s eyes shot up at her, confused. “What million bucks?”
“Now, Cliff,” she said.
The car careened through the intersection, turning sharply left, sliding Cliff into Agent Harris.
She continued, “I said half a million.”
“Oh...”
“I hadn’t even included the half a million you transferred this morning in Bend. But now that you brought it up, let’s find out about that as well.”
He sunk into his seat. “Who the hell are you?”
“Eugene cops got her out on I-5 heading north,” the driver said. “They’re holding back, waiting for us to catch up.”
The car rounded the on ramp to the interstate and picked up speed.
Suddenly, there was a light that seemed to go on in Cliff’s brain. He was sitting right behind the driver, so he couldn’t see the man’s face.
“What’s the matter, Cliff?” she asked. “You don’t look great. That’s what betraying your country will do to you.”
His head shot toward her. “What the fuck. You can’t.”
“Can’t what, Cliff? Prove that you took secret technology from Brightstar and took a payoff from the Asian woman driving in the white Trooper about a half mile ahead? That’s treason, my man. You’ll never see that money. Better yet, you’ll end up at the other end of a needle. Which, in my opinion, is too good for you. I was hoping you’d try to escape so I can shoot your ass.” She started reaching for her gun.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cliff yelled.
Agent Fisher turned his head to the back seat for an instant and then back to the highway. “A little more intense than life behind the cubicle, hey Cliff?”
“Steve? Steve Lempi?” Cliff said. “What the. . ?”
“Actually,” the driver said, “you might want to start calling me by my real name, Drew Fisher. I’m with the Agency.”
&n
bsp; “A journalist?” Cliff asked, confused.
“No, you dumb fuck. The Agency.” He emphasized both words.
Harris shook her head. “I thought you said he was a brilliant programmer?”
Fisher shrugged his shoulders.
“Wait a minute,” Cliff said. “You worked in Group Five.”
“Yeah,” Fisher said. “And my mother was the Tooth Fairy.”
“She was,” Harris said.
“You know what I mean.”
The light bulb got brighter in Cliff’s brain. “Shit!”
“Don’t get too close,” Harris said, tapping her hand on the driver’s seat.
“I’ll tell you what,” Fisher said. “I’ll drive and you take care of Butthead.”
“Deal.” She swung her left hand, catching Cliff in the forehead and knocking him back against the seat.
When Cliff recovered, he said, “What the hell was that for?”
“That’s for the next lie that comes out of your mouth. I just wanted to get ahead of the game.”
“You’re a sick bitch.”
She went to hit him and he jerked his head back, bashing it against the side window.
“Hey,” Fisher said. “We might need him to testify.”
“I didn’t do that,” she pleaded.
“Sure.”
The car stayed back, leaving a large pickup truck blocking their view of the Trooper a few cars up the road.
“Where’s she going, Cliff?” Harris asked him.
“How should I know?” He put his hands in front of his face and then peered out between his fingers before lowering his guard.
“You are the worst liar,” she said. Then her phone rang and she pulled it from her inside pocket and simply said, “Harris.”
She listened carefully, and then said, “How long?” Pause. “We’ve got him right here.” Her eyes considered Cliff more seriously. “Thanks.” She slowly flipped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket.
“Who was that?” Fisher asked.
She hesitated and then said, “Portland. It seems our man here is now an accessory to murder.”
Cliff pulled forward against his seat belt. “I had nothing to do with killin’ Jimmy.”
Now she was confused. “Did I say Jimmy?”
“She killed him for no reason,” Cliff said, tears growing in his eyes again. “Shot him for no reason. Bam.
Bam.”
“Shit!”
Fisher turned for a moment to look at his partner. “What’s up?”
“Just a minute.” She pulled out her phone again and punched in a number. A couple seconds later she said, “Yeah, this dirtbag is with us. Better get in there.” She listened for a moment and then said, “You did? Same as Bend? Thanks.”
The car pulled out into the fast lane and passed a slower truck. Then Fisher pulled into the right lane and settled back, the white Trooper three cars ahead.
“Talk to me, Harris,” Fisher said.
“Two counts of murder,” she said to him.
Cliff was terminally confused now. “There was just Jimmy,” he said.
She wanted to smack him again. “Jimmy took one to the chest and one to the forehead. Your friend Zack Evans in Bend took one to the back of the head at close range.”
Cliff turned white and sunk deep into his seat. His two best friend’s were dead because he had wanted to spend a couple extra days with Li. He couldn’t believe it. When the tears came, he could do nothing to stop them.
27
Shemya, Alaska
Two airmen had died on the tarmac when the plane arrived. Senior Airman Cato, a nineteen year old from Del Rio, Texas had been the first to die, taking a single round to the forehead. The other to die was Sergeant Temple, a security policeman from Fresno.
The lone gunman had still not been identified.
The entire detachment of special agents from the Air Force Office of Special Investigations from Elmendorf Air Base in Anchorage had caught a flight and were conducting the investigation. But, Colonel Powers knew there would be more to come, he was sure.
The colonel was in his office behind his desk, making the OSI agent wait in the outer office. He didn’t like the cocky special agents, who didn’t wear the Air Force uniform, and could have been a sergeant or a captain. Thank God for his new computer system, he thought. While the man waited outside, he had pulled up the agent’s record. He was a Captain Dave Eyler, the detachment commander in Elmendorf. What he didn’t know, though, was the man who accompanied him. He had simply flashed a badge to his secretary.
He called his secretary and told her to send the two in, but remained behind his desk. He had no intention of letting the power of his position and rank be diminished by the two of them.
Dressed in suits, with pants tucked into Sorels, the two agents came in and stood in front of the colonel’s desk. Captain Eyler was short and stocky with a beard that was long even for an OSI special agent. The man to his left was a tall, thin man with a chiseled jaw that jutted out like that cartoon Canadian Mountie.
The colonel considered them in silence. Then he waved his hand toward two cushioned chairs. “Take a seat.” It wasn’t a request.
They sat and the captain pulled out a small notebook, flipping a few pages.
“Anything on the shooter?” Colonel Powers asked.
The two men looked at each other. The captain was about to speak, but was halted by the colonel standing and approaching them.
“First of all,” the colonel said. “I like to know who I’m talking with. Let’s see some I.D.” He stood there with his hands out.
Without thinking about it, the two men produced their badges.
“And your I.D.s,” Colonel Powers said.
They pulled them out and the colonel looked them over carefully before returning them to the men. That’s interesting, he thought, as he took a seat behind his desk.
“I understand OSI being here,” Powers said, “but why is the Agency involved?”
“Is this room secure?” the Agency man asked.
“My comm people swept it just before you arrived,” Powers assured him. “They’re in the process of sweeping every building now.”
The Agency man seemed pleased with that. “We’re involved because of a breach at one of the contractors on this project.”
“Which one?” the colonel asked.
“We can’t say,” Captain Eyler said.
“You can and you will,” the colonel told him. “This is my fuckin’ project. Anyone has the need to know, it’s me.”
The two special agents looked at each other. Finally, the captain said, “Brightstar.”
“Shit! That’s the lead contractor. The software that was just delivered came from them. Same with most of the hardware.”
“We know that, Sir,” the Agency man said. “Our people are working on it now.”
Sir? Not bad from an Agency weenie. “How?”
“That you don’t need to know.”
“Fair enough.” Colonel Powers had only been trying to push to see how far he could go with them. “What do you guess the shooter was trying to accomplish?”
They both hunched their shoulders, glancing sideways at each other.
“Speculate,” the colonel said, more seriously now.
The Agency man spoke first. “Could have been working with those in California. We’ll know more once we find out who he is.”
“Is this espionage homegrown or foreign?” Powers asked.
The OSI captain started to talk, but was shut up with a foot sliding from the Agency man.
“We didn’t say anything about espionage,” the Agency man said.
“You just did, boys.” The colonel smiled. “You two gotta work out more subtle signals.” He hesitated and then said, “Let’s cut the bullshit. Just tell me how much of my program has been compromised. And I don’t want a long cock and bull tale from you about need to know and we’re not sure and all that crap. The test is tomorrow. I nee
d to know that when we go to shoot down phase we got a good chance of hitting our target.”
There was a long silence. Then the Agency man spoke. “We honestly don’t know, Sir.”
There came that Sir again. Maybe this wasn’t one of those arrogant fucks from Washington. “Now that’s an honest answer. I don’t like people bullshittin’ me. Give me the straight skinny and let me work with it. Good, bad or ugly. So, you don’t know who took the Brightstar shit?”
“We know who took it,” Agency said. “We’re not sure why. The guy is being tracked now.”
“Trying to lead you to someone?” Powers asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Which country is involved?” the colonel asked.
The OSI officer looked at the Agency man, who said, “Don’t know.”
“Now, that’s a lie Mr. Agency man. That’s too bad. You were doing great up to that point.”
“I can’t tell you that,” he said.
“The Chinese.”
The Agency man’s eyes shot up.
“I was just guessing,” Colonel Powers said. “But now I guess I got my answer.”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” the Agency man said, trying his best to back track.
“That’s the truth, Sir,” special agent Eyler said.
That was one truth, the colonel knew. But these two would never give him the full story.
28
The sun was just coming up over the Lesser Khingan Range in northern Manchuria, when Jake and Su reached the valley. They were both exhausted from running most of the night. And, although their clothes had turned from wet to frozen, neither seemed overtly hypothermic.
When they reached a small wooden bridge that crossed the river, they stopped for a moment to catch their breath.
“Which way from here?” Jake asked her.
“We cross the bridge and then it’s two miles, maybe more, before we reach my uncle’s village.”
Jake set his backpack down and searched inside for the camera and phone. He had to get those pictures sent. He turned on the phone and still got no signal.
“What the hell is going on here?” he yelled.
“It should work,” she assured him. She pointed off to the southwest. “We put a cell tower some five miles up there.” She pulled out her phone and also got no signal.
