by Dave Balcom
“Not if you never send him cards on holidays or his birthday it’s not so weird. You’ve been there, though; right?”
“Oh, yes, of course. It’s been a while, though... Mr. Stanton, what’s going on here?
“I’m... well,” I let a burst of air out of my lungs, realizing that this woman wasn’t dotty and I wasn’t getting what I wanted unless I gave her something of the truth.
“Mr. Stanton?”
“Jim, please.”
“Jim, then; what’s going on here?”
“I was wondering if you would agree to show me where Art lives. I’d pick you up in the morning. We can drive to Troutdale, and you can show me where he lives. Then I’ll bring you home after lunch in Hood River. You wouldn’t be gone all that long, really.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know if you really know your brother, Norma. When he came to visit me, he told me things that make me think he hasn’t been forthright with you, things that disturb me, and make me fearful for his safety. I sometimes investigate things, and he has aroused that instinct in me.”
“You’re being very careful with your words, Mr. Stanton. I’ll go to lunch with you tomorrow via Troutdale, but only on the condition that you tell me everything you think you know about my brother. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Pick me up about 11?”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter 20
The OSP technicians had arrived while I was on the phone with Norma. They spent about two hours in our home; one speaking into the bugs, the other two triangulating the receiver. They finally found it hanging on a tree some 100 yards up the hill across the road from our front door.
As I had suspected, it was old technology that tested the two young men in the team, but the leader, a grizzled old man of some 45 years, had at least seen the devices before.
“This is really old shit,” he said. “No way to access the tape from afar; you’d have to rewind and listen, you know?” He was shaking his head as if to wonder just how spooks in the 20th Century ever accomplished anything.
They re-scanned the house, confirmed I’d found the only devices and parted company with smiles and jokes.
As I recapped my conversation with Norma, Jan listened with pursed lips and squinty eyes – not a happy camper.
When I was done, she fled upstairs without a word. I ushered Judy out the door, and we went up the road looking for a martini.
Jack was sitting on his patio, and Judy went bounding ahead to shower him with affection.
Jack untangled himself from the eager Drahthaar wiggling at his legs, and led the way into his kitchen without a word of greeting.
He pulled the bottle of Boodles out of the cupboard as Shirlee entered the room with her phone at her ear. “He’s here, of course, mooching olives as usual.”
She giggled as she disconnected and slid her phone into her pocket. “There’ll be four for drinks, Jack. You two have a spat, Jim?”
“Something like that.”
“I’d rather you kept that kind of thing up the road; down here it’s lilacs and sunshine all the time, right Jack?”
“Hmmm? Oh, sure, all the time,” he mumbled as he handed each of us a drink. Judy, who had been left lying on the step outside the kitchen, started playing twangy music on the screen with her stubby tail, announcing Jan’s arrival.
Jack touched glasses with me and took a swig of his drink while extending his other hand towards the door so Jan could accept her drink.
“Perfect timing, my dear; the Nelson Clinic for Marital Bliss is now open; state your cases!”
We all chuckled, and headed for the patio. Jack reached back and hefted his half-full shaker for the walk, as if to be certain it contained all the trip would require.
When we were all situated, Jack started, “You’re probably wondering why I called this meeting...”
I took over. I laid out the high points of recent events. As usual Jack and Shirlee listened without interruption. I saw Jan start to inject a time or two, but she restrained herself. When I thought I was done, I invited her in, “Jan? Did I leave anything important out?”
“Only details; like, you’re pushing 70 and you haven’t shared very much of this with qualified people who are much younger and charged with dealing with situations such as this? Things like that?”
“I’m just going to identify a location,” I argued, sounding a bit childish even to my ear. “I don’t think strangers with badges could extract this information from Norma as easily as I can. Then I’m going to turn it over to the Feds and consider my part complete; that’s it. Fini!”
“Sound like macho revisionist BS to me,” Shirlee said in a whisper we could all hear.
“Unfair, Shirl,” Jack said. “Jan, you might want to give some thought to how hard it is for active, capable guys to change their habits in the glaring reality of age. The Jim you and I know and love might be telling you the truth as he knows it. On the other hand, he could probably just as easily put a bug in the ear of a Pete Boyd or Ray Jensen along with tips on how to finesse the deal and end up with the address they need, but that kind of tactic would force Jim to admit that he no longer plays a role that, to him, counts... That’s a tough reality for a guy like Jim to accept...” his vibrant blue eyes and a nasty smile bore into me, “until he starts gaining some wisdom along with all those years and scars.”
The two women joined Jack in beaming at me, and if I’d dared look, I feared I’d find Judy nodding as well. “I really did come up here just for the mart, Jack. And for all of you, I will be home tomorrow afternoon having enjoyed a little time with a well-read woman I think you all would, or will, come to appreciate.”
“You just need to come home in one piece, mister,” Jan said from her chair.
I shook my head at her. “No, the real issue is that you need to spend the day right up here with people I know and trust so you’ll be safe and in one piece when I come home.”
“Aaaah!” Shirlee exhaled with a nod. “We’ll have fun tomorrow, Jan, okay?
Chapter 21
Norma was waiting as I pulled up. She checked that her door had locked behind her. I jumped out and tended the passenger door for her. She gave me a quick smile as she pulled herself up into the seat.
“Not my first pickup ride, Mr. Stanton. I’m a single lady, yes; but spinster? Not me.”
I was grinning broadly as I slid behind the wheel.
“If you took the next left,” Norma said as we drove slowly down the fourth street we’d traveled since leaving I-84 in Troutdale, “you’d be able to drive right up to Art’s door, but we’re not going to do that, are we?”
“No, ma’am; we’re not.”
I continued at the original pace and noted the name of the street even as I triggered a way-point into the truck’s GPS system. “How far up that street, Norma?”
“The last house on the left. You can’t see it until you’re right on top of it. The driveway curves around in the trees until you reach the garage. The house is above the garage; it’s a magnificent view.”
Ten minutes later we were headed east on I-84.
“I’ve always loved this old inn,” Norma said as we were seated on the dining porch overlooking the Columbia. “I’ve been fed here many times, Jim; never had a full plate of Bull before, so let’s not start there.”
I didn’t answer as the waitress came to ask about our orders. When she had them, I sipped my iced tea and made a decision. “I served in a secret unit with Art back in the ’70s. Before last week I hadn’t heard or seen him since 1973; hadn’t thought about him either, but his name came up in another matter along with a couple of other guys from that unit.”
“Mark and Randy?”
I almost dropped my tea glass. She was smiling at my reaction. “You know them?” I finally asked.
“They came around once when Art was first home from the service. Nice men, I thought.”
I was stunned.
She press
ed, “What was this other matter?”
“Oh, really not a big deal. My son and some of his friends threw a party themed on each of them buying one of those self-DNA kits. By doing that, they joined some data base and a woman contacted him saying his name had come up in relation to her family. That reminded me I had met a woman who could have been her grandmother back in ’73 in Florida. I know I had no DNA issues with her, but Art, Randy and Mark were there at the same time, and I thought I might find out what could have happened after I left... weird kind of research even for me.”
“Was Art any help in that?”
I shook my head, “Never talked of it. Instead, Art warned me that I had stumbled into something that could be dangerous to me and mine, but, because I had saved his life with an emergency blood transfusion back in the day, he was willing to give me a pass if I just dropped my interest.”
“Interest in that woman in Florida?”
“I guessed that, but then after that meeting, the FBI paid me a visit wondering why I had been digging around in the lives of these old men they labeled ‘people of interest.’”
“Let me be sure I understand. Federal agents consider my brother and those two men ‘people of interest’?”
“I was as shocked as you.”
“I’m shocked agents would tell a civilian such information.”
“I have a prior relationship with these agents; totally unrelated to this, but they weren’t treating me as a suspect or anything.”
“Suspect in what?”
“I don’t know; they weren’t that forthcoming.”
“What did you do?”
I finished my salad, savoring the roast chicken flavor, washed it down with the last of my tea. “Art kidnapped my wife; told me to rethink my further involvement while getting a cup of coffee in Hermiston. At home I found Jan safe and sound; Art had bugged my house, and disabled all my weapons. The message was clear that he would be watching and listening; if I minded my own business, nothing further would come of our meeting.”
She took this in without a murmur, but a look that I could only label as ‘sorrow’ filled her eyes. “It’s that white supremacist bull again, isn’t it?”
“Yes. From what he told me, he was no longer active as a volunteer, but had made himself available as an ‘independent contractor,’ when certain actions were necessary.”
“What kind of actions?”
“He didn’t say.”
“But you know, don’t you?”
“I know what he was good at back in the day, yes.”
She sat with her eyes squeezed shut as if my words washing over her would burn like shampoo.
“What’s going to happen now, Jim?”
“I’m going to turn that address over to the FBI, and then go home and make sure my wife and my friends are safe.”
“Were you good at the same things as Art back in that day, Jim?”
“I was competent, but in a very different way, Norma.”
“How was that?”
“I didn’t like it...”
Chapter 22
The drive back to Troutdale gave me time to consider all my options. I had my phone open, ready to call Rhodes at his office three times, but didn’t punch his number.
I made the left-hand turn onto Price Street, and slowly climbed the hill until I could see the end of the pavement. What had to be Truman’s driveway was directly across the street from a duplex whose rundown look was testimony to its inability to provide occupants with any kind of view.
I parked in front of the duplex, nose pointed at escape, and reconsidered my position: Hurry my ass to the Feds, no pass go, no more involvement, or just a peek at Truman’s hidey hole? Perhaps I’d learn something that would pay off later?
I left keys in the ignition and windows down, hoping I wouldn’t come back to find my truck gone, but if I were in a hurry... That thought gave me one more chance to reconsider, then I mentally shrugged and headed up the drive on foot.
As the driveway started to curve to the right and uphill at what I guessed had to be the final approach to the home, I cut into the timber, hoping to take a look at the building without exposing myself.
The woods was thick with under story growth, and working my way through the brambles without making a racket was time consuming. My first glance of the building was of just the top floor with an expansive balcony that must have provided a breathtaking view of the river.
Keeping inside the tree line, I worked my way completely around the home. The yard was well maintained, but seemed almost sterile. There was a patio at the rear of the house, but it appeared neglected, with leaves and tree limbs left over from some previous storm.
There was no sign of life in the house, and finally, at the opposite side of the house from the driveway, I peered into the windows of the garage and saw all three stalls occupied. There was an SUV, a natty little foreign convertible in bright red, and an old Honda Civic. There were three bicycles hanging from the rafters and a workbench that appeared clean enough to eat at.
I quickly retreated to the tree line, wondering at the numbers. Did he live alone? Was there a child living there? Those thoughts were quickly followed by the thought, “Security cameras?”
I stayed in the trees until the driveway appeared ahead of me, and then jogged down the pavement to my truck. Once inside, I sat with my eyes closed, letting my pent up anxiety bleed off me like sweat. At the bottom of the hill, I fumbled for my phone.
“Rhodes here,” the agent answered.
“Jim Stanton, Mike. I have some information you might be able to use.”
“What’s that?”
“The location of Art Truman’s home in Troutdale.”
“Give it to me.”
“It’s not quite that easy, but if you’ve a detailed map of Troutdale with street names, I’ll stop by and show you the location on the map.”
“You’ve been there? What kind of place is it?”
“Never saw it,” I lied. “I’m in The Dalles; I can be at your office inside an hour. I can pinpoint the property location on the map.”
“Park in the ramp, call me just as you arrive and I’ll have someone meet you and bring you up.”
The agent waiting for me as I parked my truck was almost as tall as I, but athletic in a way I couldn’t even remember. I doubted if he was out of his 20s, like a model for a recruiting poster.
He introduced himself with a wide grin, “Roger Williams, sir. I’ve heard a lot about Jim Stanton since coming to Portland; it’s a pleasure to be able to put a face with the legend.”
“Legend?”
“I have no idea what that means, but Ray Jensen demanded I greet you that way. Is that some kind of code?”
“How long have you been with the Bureau, Agent Williams?”
“Eleven years, but in Portland only for the past six months.”
I revised my estimate of his age and gave his lean and casual look an even bigger dose of envy.
“It’s a sick and twisted mind you find in your former AIC, Roger. There’s nothing legendary in my file unless it’s stupidity. That may have, at times, approached legendary.”
“C’mon. I’ll deliver you to AIC Rhodes. I’ll read your file later,” and he smiled as he said that.
Rhodes was all business when I found him in a conference room. He lead me to a map spread out on a table. I had the GPS coordinates of the waypoint I had made at the intersection with Art’s street, and Williams found them on the detailed map, “1300 Price Street, NE,” the agent whispered as Rhodes wrote it down. He handed the slip of paper to Williams who hurried out of the room.
“Thanks, Jim. Can you find your way back to your vehicle?”
“I guess. But...”
He cut me off with a back handed gesture. “You promised Jan you’d provide the address and drop the whole matter, and that’s just what you’re going to do. Leave right now, and you’ll miss the traffic out of town.”
“What, she called you? S
he...”
He cut me off again. “Thank you Mr. Stanton. I’ll try to let you know where this lead took us when it’s all over, or, if it turns out that you can be of further service. See ya, Jim.”
The look on his face didn’t quite make it to a smile, but it sent me on my way without further debate.
Chapter 23
I parked in my garage and checked the whole house just after six that afternoon, found nothing out of sorts and headed up the road towards the Nelsons’ and Jan.
“Hey, there, Jim!” Jack hailed me from his usual perch on his patio.
His greeting alerted the women inside, and the kitchen door popped open to let Judy bounce out into the yard followed by Jan and Shirlee at a more sedate pace.
“How was your lunch?” Jan asked.
“Interesting. Norma Truman is really a nice person; I find a lot of both of you women in her. She’s a kinder, gentler model than I’m used to around here, but I think you’d both do well to make a friend such as her.”
Jan turned to Shirlee with mouth agape, a wondering look in her eyes. “You’re right, dear,” the older woman sympathized, “he is a smartass.”
“I told you; arrogant, too. Not a nice man.”
I interrupted their shtick with a lament, “But I persist.”
That earned me a hug and welcome-home kiss. “He does at that,” Jan shared another aside with Shirlee, “just shows even he can learn from a woman.”
With that Jack announced a sacrificial yard fowl was in our future, and our Friday evening fell into the familiar pattern of good friends enjoying each other’s company.
Chapter 24
Jeremy, at the age of 32, has proven to be a capable, frank, and independent young man, just as he had proven to be as a teenager. When he called me two weeks later, I could hear his concern before I understood it.
After the obligatory small talk, I finally cut to the chase. “It’s great to hear from you, and I’m happy to know you and yours are doing well, but what’s really up, Jay?”
With unfamiliar caution for him, he let a silence settle before answering, “I had another call from Maggie Lennon this week.”
