by Dana Lyons
* * *
Vince woke in the dead of night, not needing an alarm. He quickly dressed and made his way to the back door without turning on any lights. He sank down to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, waiting.
Utter silence blanketed him, making his heartbeat sound loud in the darkness. The enormity of what he embarked upon still gave him a thrill. It was his blind luck to be a part of something so massive, and to secure his future at the same time. This opportunity answered all his dreams.
The courier would be at his back door at 2:30 tonight. To keep from attracting any attention, they would make their exchange in the dark.
Only the courier was in for a surprise.
Footsteps scraped on the pavers leading to the backdoor. He held his breath, ear pressed to the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He scrambled to his feet and opened the door.
A figure rushed in, dressed in black, a hoodie obscuring the face. He immediately crouched down and struck a lighter; the flame wavered in his shaky hand. He pushed back his hoodie and slung off the backpack.
Vince kneeled. “Here, let me help,” he offered and took the lighter. “By the way, where’d you park?”
The courier jutted his chin west. “Two blocks back on the north side of the street, a silver Toyota. No one should notice it.”
“Good,” Vince answered.
With a tentative smile, the courier extracted a slim wooden box and set it down. “Here,” he whispered and pushed it over.
Now Vince’s hand shook. Once he accepted this package, his future was cast in stone, no going back, no getting diverted, no changing his mind. While he had regret for what would happen to this young man, the plans were made by powers far above him. What they instructed, he did.
Because he’d already been given a vaccine, he knew this was something biological, meant to have a profound effect on the human race.
And I get to be a part of it!
He steadied his hand and lifted the small latch on the box to raise the lid. Inside, a silver cigar tube nestled in a bed of purple velvet.
So much power in such a small package.
“I’ll take it,” he whispered.
“This goes with it.” The courier drew out a manila envelope. “It’s instructions and special wrapping materials for the wooden box.”
Vince took the envelope and rose to set it and the box on the counter next to a blackjack he’d left for this moment. The courier remained crouching, busy as he slipped the lighter in his bag and zipped it up. With his head down, he never saw the blackjack coming. The sound of lead smacking into flesh and bone popped loud in the quiet.
The courier hit the floor with a gasp and a thump. Vince gave the boy two more solid taps, hearing the mastoid bone crunch with the final blow. He rolled him over and searched his pockets, removing car keys with a rental tag. He fished his wallet out of the backpack and checked for plastic.
Several credit cards. Excellent.
He set the wallet next to the wooden box. Still working in the dark, he dragged the body to the bathroom. With no windows in the bathroom to reveal light, he flipped the switch on. He stripped the body and heaved it into the bathtub with the head near the drain.
“Sorry to do this, but if you’re going to be me, well, I’m sure your dental records don't match mine. So, off it goes.” He picked up his electric shears and began cutting through the neck. Once the head was free, he set it on top of the drain.
While gravity drained the blood from the body, he sat on the toilet seat, chin in hand. Growing up, he couldn’t have predicted this bizarre moment. But small actions that at the time seemed innocent enough, slowly built a path leading to this night. He couldn’t think of a point or moment when he consciously could have turned away and taken a different path.
“Maybe,” he mused, remembering when he took his best friend’s doctor code and destroyed his career and life. “Huh,” he grunted. “Life doesn’t appear to be beating up Simon now.”
But stealing those codes was a low point in his life. “If I hadn’t done that, maybe …”
He briefly stared off into memory, but the point was moot. “And now, thanks to you, Simon, and that hot-as-hell cop, I’m way ahead of schedule.” He sighed, knowing he’d have to lay a false trail, then hide out somewhere until his final instructions arrived. “Three-thirty, got to get moving.”
He wrapped the head in a towel and placed it in his old bowling bag. Silent as the night, he slipped out his back door and headed two blocks west to find a silver Toyota.
It was a quick drive out to the river where he placed rocks in the bowling bag and made a one inch cut in the leather so the bag would sink.
He flung the bag far into the center of the fast current and it sank out of sight. He brushed his hands free of dirt. A glance at the sky told him dawn approached. “Time to go.”
By four o’clock he reached home from the back way. He removed the body from his bathtub and placed it in a chair by the kitchen, then turned on all the gas burners on the stove, knowing the propane would sink and travel across the floor until it found the pilot light on the water heater. He grabbed his packed bag and eased out the rear door.
The predawn was silent as death as he softly skirted backyards, shrubs, and fences going two blocks east this time. He tossed his backpack in the rear seat of the courier’s silver rental car and climbed in.
Up and down the street no lights were on yet. He started the engine and eased from the curb, watching in his rear-view mirror. At the end of the block he paused at the stop sign before turning. He waited, the only car on the road, watching in the mirror until a great boom filled the air and a fireball shot high in the air.
He turned and drove away.
* * *
Dreya and Rhys climbed into the small van, joining Simon and Quinn. She passed them both hot coffee, and she and Rhys settled into the back seats. She checked their emotional connections. Quinn was tired, but comfortable after his night sequestered with Simon. Simon was emotionally and mentally depleted. The need to shelter him ran strong. She asked him, How are you?
Just making sure Harper doesn’t get away again. He sipped from his mug and winked at her. “Thank you, princess.”
“You boys do okay last night?” Rhys asked.
“Considering we’re two blocks away, not a peep that we know of,” Quinn replied. “And not a life lost now that you brought coffee.”
She stared at Harper’s house, seeing it clearly in the dark. The sky, while still dark, had a grey cast with the coming dawn “I worked up a six-hour shift rotation that puts Rhys in the sky for the daylight hours so you two can go back to the room and get—”
Before she could finish, heat warped through the air surrounding Harper’s house as the walls expanded and exploded sky high.
Simon cried, “Damn it, you son of a—” He slammed his fist into the dash and lurched forward in his seat as if to pounce through the windshield and run down the street.
Quinn started the van and pulled out from the curb. Rhys called 911. Simon looked as though his knees had been cut out from under him.
Let’s not react until we know the facts.
He shook his head. “I’m trying, princess. I’m trying.”
“My gut tells me this isn’t what it looks like,” she consoled. “If Harper is as cunning as his file indicates, I’d say don't give up hope.”
The wail of sirens filled the air by the time they parked a half block away. Simon would have gotten out, but Rhys grabbed his arm. “Not yet, not until the fire department clears the scene.”
The firetrucks came and hoses were laid out producing a treacherous terrain. Local law enforcement arrived and Dreya showed them her badge. The officer nodded and passed her ID back. “You know the drill. Stay until you’re cleared.”
While they waited, she called Jarvis. “Sir, we have a situation. Harper’s house just blew up. As I reported yesterday, he overreacted to our appearance, making thi
s explosion highly suspicious. At this point we haven’t been allowed into the scene yet, so we don't know if he was inside the house. But he’s up to something and I think when we confronted him yesterday we put him in motion. I don’t expect to find him here.”
“What do you think he’s doing?” Jarvis asked.
“That’s just it. We have no idea. My instincts and my eyes tell me he’s high risk, I just don't know how yet.”
“What do you need from me now?”
“We don't have a crime that we know of … yet. I expect that to change soon. I’ll let you know.”
They waited two hours before the Fire Marshall motioned them to exit the car. Crime Scene technicians were already canvassing the area, and Dreya spoke to the lead. “Hi. We were sitting on this guy, Vince Harper.” She flashed her badge and showed him the photo. “Any indication he was here when it blew?” Rhys, Quinn, and Simon had gathered at her back.
“Well, someone was here. We’re finding body parts in the blast perimeter. Can’t say who that person was. Hands are blown to bits.”
“What about dental?” Simon asked. He leaned slightly forward, pressing on Dreya’s back.
Bring it down. Bring it down.
He backed up and put his hands in his pockets. Sorry.
The technician shrugged one shoulder. “Identifying this body is going to be difficult. So far, we haven’t found the head.”
Internally, Simon shouted, I’m telling you it’s not him.
“Thanks,” Dreya told the technician, and they retreated to the van. Everyone settled in, and she asked, “Rhys?”
“Proceed as though the body isn’t Harper. I suggest checking if he’s rented a car.”
“There’s Uber and Lyft, too,” Quinn added.
“All right, that’s a plan,” she said.
“I’ll start on the rental companies,” Simon offered.
“Good,” she said. “I’ll call Jarvis for a search warrant for burner phone activity at the local towers.”
“Where to?” Rhys asked.
“We’re working on theory right now because that’s all we have. Harper had a packed bag. Where’s he headed, bus, train, or plane? Simon?”
“He’ll want to get as far away as possible.”
“I agree,” Rhys added.
“So, he’s on the run and likely wanting to get lost. Would he go Dulles International or a small regional?”
“He’s good at disappearing in a crowd,” Simon said. “I say Dulles.”
“Dulles International it is,” Rhys said.
* * *
Vince drove the courier’s rental Toyota into the long-term parking lot at Dulles International Airport. He went to the rear of the lot as far as he could get from the elevators and pulled into the corner spot. “Just in case I need you when I come back through.” He wiped the car down inside and out and grabbed his bag.
As he approached the terminals, he split off to the international side. Once there he merged in with the flow of passengers and flagged a taxi.
“Where you going, man?” the driver asked.
Vince handed him the address on a slip of paper. The driver read it and motioned him in. “Sure, no problem.”
After twenty minutes, they pulled up to the curb. “Is this it?” The driver checked the number on the house against the written address.
By this time in the morning, the neighborhood children and workers were already gone, leaving the street desolate of car and foot traffic. Vince handed the driver the fee plus ten. “Thanks.” He stepped up on the curb and waited for the taxi to pull out.
The driver took the money and drove off.
The house had a For Rent sign in the window. Vince smiled, knowing he’d left a dead end for even the most tenacious pursuer. He pulled a hat and shades from his bag and began walking down the street to a bus stop. When the bus arrived, he boarded and sat with his hat pulled down so no one would remember what he looked like.
* * *
By the time Rhys reached the airport, Dreya had her warrant for cell towers, and Quinn and Simon had found no Uber, Lyft, or rental cars in any of Harper’s known aliases.
“Approaching Dulles,” Rhys said.
She stared at multiple lanes of traffic offering untold possibilities.
If he’s even here.
“Domestic or international, anybody?” she asked.
“I vote domestic,” Quinn said. “Gives him more options than being stuck on a long flight.”
Simon nodded. “Probably right.”
“I agree,” she said. “We’ve got half a prayer, let’s see if we can turn up something.”
Rhys pulled into a security space and they all hopped out, brandishing badges. The nearest security guard approached. “What’s going on?”
“FBI Special Agent Love. We’re here in search of a fugitive. We’d like to canvass with his photo.”
“Agent, do you want to see the security chief? We can pull up video.”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
He waved them in and they split up. “Quinn, go with Simon. Rhys and I will take this side.” She didn’t think they had a single iota of luck to draw on and could only hope boots-on-the-ground would turn something up.
But after two hours, Rhys said, “I think we’re done here.” She huffed with frustration. Not one person had seen Harper inside, not any ticket agents or baggage people, no one at the security check points, no salespeople in the gift shop.
They met Simon and Quinn at their vehicle. “Not one sighting,” Quinn said. Simon walked off to the side, the lost look on his face breaking her heart.
We’ll find him.
“We might as well go back to the office,” she said.
“Wait,” Simon blurted. “No one saw him inside because he never went inside.” He threw off waves of excitement, sending emotional energy crashing into her. “He’s trying to lose us, using our logic to predict where we might look and setting a false trail from there. I say we need to hit the cabbies.”
“Quinn?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yep. That’s what I’d do.”
“Okay. You two take the domestic side, Rhys and I will cover the international side.”
It was getting dark and the day-to-nighttime shift change was happening. Dreya approached a last cab who had just turned off his sign.
“Hey, can you give me a second?”
“I’m closing up lady; been a long day. What do you want?”
She glanced at his permit for his name. “Rashid, I’m FBI Special Agent Dreya Love. Did you happen to see this man today, give him a ride, maybe? It’s very important.”
He took the photo and studied it briefly. “Yes, I did,” he said, brandishing a piece of paper. “I gave him a ride to this address.” Rhys pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and motioned Rashid to drop the handwritten note in.
“Thanks, appreciate you help,” Dreya said.
“What’d he do?” the cabbie asked. “Is he dangerous?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” she answered. Rhys, Quinn, and Simon came to stand at her back.
“Well,” Rashid said. “That address won’t do you any good.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s a house for rent.”
An hour later, they stood before the address on the note. An officer had come out to the airport and taken Rashid’s statement, which gave them little more than the empty house did.
Rhys said, “I heard from Jarvis—no burner calls. Whoever Harper’s working with, they’re not using phones.”
She had hoped for something more off the cell tower warrant. “We’ll get some local uniforms out here tomorrow with his photo. But this trail is definitely chilly.”
“If we had any lingering doubts about his involvement in something,” Rhys added, “I guess this shuts that down.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I don’t know what bothers me most, that I don’t know what he’s doing, or that I don't know wher
e he is.” Simon released a wave of defeat, and she cringed against his distress. Don't worry. We’ll find him.
His angry gaze swept the empty street. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it’s not going to be good.
4
Vince pulled into the parking lot of a comfortable hotel near the Shenandoah Airport with thirty-six hours to kill. “Take-out and TV. I can handle that.”
He walked in the lobby and saw the clerk was a woman. He ran a hand through his hair and offered his best flirty smile. With a sympathetic tone, he greeted her. “Good morning, wow, you look tired.”
“It’s been a long night. What do you need?” She glanced up half-heartedly, exhaustion painting dark circles around her eyes.
“Just a room for me for two nights.”
“Got it. Credit card and driver’s license.”
“Yeah, that’s just it.” He shifted into his most pitiful tone, cultivated over years of weaseling out of infractions with authority figures. “I just lost my license and don’t have the replacement yet. I’ve got a credit card.” He pushed the courier’s credit card toward the clerk with a hapless life-sometimes-sucks grin.
Come on, go for it. You’re tired, it’s the end of your shift.
“I’m quiet as a mouse,” he added. “No trouble, I promise. And I really need a room.”
She lifted her chin, considering rejecting him. He smiled even as he held his breath, but then she gave in. “Yeah, okay, no problem. As long as you’re quiet.”
“Like I said, just like a mouse,” he said, signing the credit slip.
In his room, he unpacked what he needed, feeling more and more satisfaction. Every successful step brought him closer. In spite of Simon’s sudden intrusion, things were going according to plan.
He opened his laptop and logged into the message board. The ‘new message’ icon flashed in the corner. Every time he saw this, his insides jumped. While he’d passed the turning point long ago, he thought back on the procession and laughed at the accuracy of his comparison to a mouse. For as sure as a mouse on a trail of crumbs, he’d followed the tidbits here. “But the crumbs are getting bigger and bigger,” he mumbled in defense as he read the new instructions on the game board.
