by Peter Idone
“How did you manage to get out of Pine Haven? Where did you go after I got caught?”
“I made it to the garden and stayed put until Creech showed up. It was nearly three a.m. I froze my ass off. Heading back to your truck was out of the question. All the roads were blocked. We made it here after dark, but Frenchy would only keep one of us. I was invited to stay, but he hid Creech. I don’t know where exactly. Frenchy had his son take him someplace safe. It’s not that far away, I don’t think. As for me, I’ve been hiding in a tiny space in a subbasement downstairs with a flashlight and a port-a-potty. Not the type of living arrangements I’m used to, but at least the Tacticals never found the hideout when they did their search. What’s your opinion Joe? Frenchy wouldn’t sell us out, would he?”
“He’s a smuggler and a thief, not a burn-down artist. Well, he could be that as well, but not for the cops. One thing I know about him is that he has no love for the police and probably holds the Tacticals in even less regard. Listen, there is something even more important I have to tell you. Turner knows everything. I was caught, Natalie. Doesn’t that say anything to you? I was subjected to truth therapy and spilled my guts and still I was cut loose. Do you want to know why? Because the colonel and Glass had cooked up the idea of breaking into Pine Haven as an exercise to test their security, especially with all the technical problems they’ve been having. The only element that was unscripted was the pump house. That was solely Glass’s agenda. That and killing the guard dog.”
“You might have saved my life.”
“You’re welcome. Glass has been in Response Team employ, sort of, this whole time. Some kind of disinformation op. Turner doesn’t care about us, but he wants Creech back. We’re off the hook providing he gets Creech. You don’t have to do this. Let me take you home. Let Turner worry about Creech.”
“I’m not going to do that, Joe. You want to know why Creech was so willing to help me get inside the exclusion zone? I promised him I’d help him get away. Creech is not going back to Pine Haven or Triumph or anything having to do with Response Team Management or the government. He has a shot at reversing the splicing operation they’ve done to him. He can’t go back there. He’s little more than a prisoner as it is already. Can you imagine how restrained he will be once back in Turner’s custody? They’ll squash him like the bug Creech thinks he’s becoming. The experimental operations have put a severe strain on his psyche.”
“He elected to have the operation. It wasn’t like he was forced, right?”
“Maybe, but he didn’t expect to turn into a cockroach, either. We talked about chimeras right? Well, Creech is the living embodiment of one, only it can’t be seen from the outside. But inside his mind, the guy’s in torment. I promised if he helped me I would help him. It could have been so easy. At least I thought it would be. Search the pump house, take a few pictures and leave, with Creech by the exfiltration point. Only he would have left with us all the way.”
“You took on way too much.”
“Maybe. But I intend to live up to my part of the bargain. This is strictly a business deal between you and me. You’re being paid. You need the money, Joe. Not a bad sum for a night’s work. Have you spoken to Glass?”
“I was debriefed.”
“Debriefed. That about sums him up.”
“He is worried about you. You and him can skate by this trouble with Turner. I might not be so lucky. How much did you know about Glass’s involvement with Response Team Management? With Turner?”
“I don’t know anything about it. The idea is ludicrous. If Turner told you that, then he’s a liar. I just don’t believe it. I’ve lived with Glass. I know the man. Sure, he has his intelligence community contacts, and he’s probably passed along information in return for something much bigger and better. As for me, I’ve been operating out on a limb the whole time here. I don’t know anything about any connections to the Response Team. I have acted with complete candor as far as you are concerned, Joe. If this was an exercise, then I had no knowledge of it. You can believe it or not.”
Logan wasn’t sure what to believe. His notion of candor was miles apart from what Natalie considered it to be. “What makes you think he won’t hand over Frenchy? Maybe the Tacticals are waiting for us to make a move and then swoop down on us at the last minute. Does Glass know you had him on retainer?”
“Frenchy is my resource. I use Glass’s money, but he doesn’t know specifically about Frenchy. You’ve seen what condition Glass is in. After a while I knew not to trust him with too many details. It’s not like you think. I didn’t want to burden him. He was becoming too brittle. Fragile.”
“He’s fragile, all right. Roaming around barefoot in that big house with a loaded Sig Sauer. Not the healthiest remedy for what ails him. He’s developing a nervous breakdown because he’s having a hard time keeping all his stories straight. I’ll be blunt with you, Natalie, you’re both a couple of schemers. I should jump in my truck and drive away.”
“And why don’t you? Because everyone has a price.”
“Yeah. Either way I have a lot to lose. I’ll take Creech to where he wants to go, and I guess there’s no talking you out of coming along for the ride. My price has just gone up. I want three thousand and all of it up front, in my pocket, before we leave. Otherwise, I’m on my way.”
Frenchy poked his head in the doorway. “You two all squared away? There are a couple of details to sort through before you leave.”
Natalie didn’t say anything. She turned and went back into the office part of the house. Logan followed. Once at the cubicle, Natalie said haughtily, “Logan wants more money. All of it up front.”
“Is that a fact?” Frenchy’s stare narrowed in Logan’s direction. He looked poisonous. “Well I don’t think I have that much on me. He will have to wait.”
“With what I’ve given you as a down payment, you have plenty, so don’t play games. I’m footing the bill for this excursion, so open your little treasure chest or wherever you have it squirreled away, and give the man three thousand dollars. Any inconvenience and you will be reimbursed.”
“I don’t do business like this, lady.”
“But you are now. Extenuating circumstances. Either that or Logan walks. You can drive me yourself.”
“Don’t push it. I’m warning you.” Frenchy stood there eyeing Natalie first, then Logan, then Natalie again. In different circumstances, this long, hostile moment could have devolved into a three-way gun fight. The fact was that the only person who was armed, Logan was sure, was Frenchy. He took a key from around his neck and unlocked a desk drawer and removed a metal strongbox. Another key opened that. He counted out a number of bills. All hundreds. “You’re lucky I got enough petty cash lying around.” He tossed it onto the counter, a wad he rolled up in a rubber band. As Logan went to pick up the money, Frenchy grabbed his wrist. The grip was brutally strong. “You don’t breathe a word of this, understand. Not about this here, right now or anything about tonight. If my name is circulated around in connection to you and if I get any aggravation because of you…Do I make myself clear?”
“I think I get the picture, Frenchy. You can let go now. I don’t think I’ll be able to drive with a broken wrist.”
“I’ll turn your whole miserable life inside out. You won’t be the first.”
Of that Logan had no doubt. Frenchy let go. Logan deposited the roll of cash in a zippered inside pocket of his coat.
“You got a little time left to kill, so why don’t you collect your gear,” Frenchy said to Natalie, and as she turned toward the back of the house, he called out “I’m gonna want that pin number, darling. When you get back here with all your stuff, you’re giving me that pin number.”
“As we agreed.” Natalie left the kitchen. Joe could hear her heavy boots clomping down a flight of stairs. Turning to Logan, Frenchy said, “I’m having the boy stock your truck with the fuel cans and tie them down. You got coffee? You’ll need plenty of coffee.”
“I’
m fine in that department. Thanks.”
“No thanks necessary, kid. I can be very obliging when circumstances dictate. I want you to have a safe trip. Really, I do. She’s a nice girl, Natalie. Very generous. Good looking. Nice tits. You two would make a cute couple. But hey, you could say the same thing about me and her. We make a cute couple. What do you think of that?”
God, is this psychotic little prick going to menace me the entire time until I’m out the door? “I don’t think anything about that. You can do whatever you want.”
“I usually do, Joe. I usually do.” He licked his lips and stroked his comically large mustache.
***
When Natalie returned from wherever she had been secreted on the premises the past few days, she had put on her parka, which was streaked with mud, as were her boots and trousers. Laden down with daypack and camera, they were ready to go. Frenchy was viewing the live feeds on the computer screen on the desk. He had video monitors set up to cover any comings and goings on his property. There were no vehicles on the access road or figures lurking in the woods. A Motorola radio squawked. It was the boy telling his father that the truck was ready and it was all clear.
Logan went out first and started up the Toyota, leaving the headlights off. He pulled up close to the front stoop. The light by the front door of the house had been extinguished the entire time. He opened the passenger-side door as Natalie ducked out of the house and slid into the cab, dumping all her gear on the small folding seats in the cab extension in back. It was where Creech could be stashed for the ride up north. Natalie asked about his phone. “I’ve turned it off. Don’t worry.”
“I want it. I’ll hang on to it until this is over. Just as a precaution, you understand.”
Apparently Natalie’s trust in him went only so far. He gave her the phone and started to drive, turning on the headlights just as he left the depot and got onto the gravel road that would become Raven’s Perch. They had decided that he would backtrack farther east before getting onto the highway. He could have turned onto Farm Road and taken the overpass immediately onto the highway, but Frenchy suggested that they make their approach from farther away, in case a Tactical squad was still positioned near the Lennox Farm property. Frenchy and his son had been keeping an eye on the place every now and then over the past few weeks. Whatever had gone on there wasn’t finished. Either a large van or dark SUVs were parked there at some point during the day, supposedly still monitoring the hoof-and-mouth outbreak. Even Frenchy no longer believed that official line.
When Logan reached the fork, he should have continued right, heading east by southeast toward the Hessian Street entrance to the highway, about three and a half miles farther. Instead he took the left fork heading north, eventually to Main Street, downtown Essex. “What do you think you’re doing?” Natalie said, alarmed.
“There’s something I have to do before we get on the road.”
“What is it? Don’t fuck this up on me, Logan.”
“It’ll take a minute. Afterwards, when I tell you, you’ll thank me for it. Like I said, Natalie, I have a lot more to lose than you or Glass. I have to cover myself, on all fronts, as best as possible.”
When they reached town, Logan drove into a small parking lot at the rear of some shops, including, most importantly, Gleason’s Pub. There were about half a dozen cars already parked near the back entrance. Logan pulled into a spot at the far end. A fine layer of snow had settled on what already had been compacted by previous vehicles. Before he nosed the front end close to the curb, he lowered the plow and scraped close to the sidewalk, creating a pile of snow about half a foot high, and then got out. There was now a small mound of hard snow in front of the parking space the truck occupied. It wasn’t very deep, but that would change over the course of the evening. Natalie strained in her seat trying to see what he was up to as he lay down on the ground by the passenger side. The window slid down. “What are you doing?”
“Just stay in the truck.” He felt around the undercarriage and detached the GPS monitoring device from the magnetic sled, scooped out a small hole in the snow, and covered it up. After the business with Creech was all over, he could retrieve it. He got back into the truck and started to head out of town.
“You mind telling me what that was all about?” Natalie’s voice was strained. She shouldn’t be out here, Logan thought. After the past several days, she should have gone home, like he had offered, taken a shower and gone to bed, and not be taking some impossibly long drive to God knows where in the middle of a snowstorm. “When I picked up my truck, your farmer buddy told me that the Tacticals were out to his property.”
Natalie groaned. “Oh fuck. Is he all right? They didn’t do anything to him and his wife, did they?”
“Nothing they aren’t used to already. They asked a lot of questions, but were more interested in my truck.”
“How do you mean?”
“Turner had them put a GPS tracking monitor on my truck. I guess they wanted to follow my movements in case I led them to you and eventually Creech. I discovered it soon after I got home. I decided to allow the situation, as far as Turner was concerned, to run its course, as long as I was out of it. Which is what I intended to do until I showed up at the depot. I had a hunch Frenchy had helped you out or knew something, but I never guessed you were in this deep with the guy. Brilliant, actually, employing the services of a smuggler. I could have left it on, and eventually it would have led Turner to Creech. Once we were back, I could have called Turner—he gave me his card, by the way—and explained what happened. That I didn’t have much of a choice under the circumstances.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Frenchy Durant. He scares me, a lot more than Turner. The colonel can and probably will make my life miserable, but Frenchy could end it if he has a mind to. He has a reputation over the years of being mixed up with some terrible people. He’s pretty terrible himself. And of course the money played a role. A very big role.”
“But you’ve gone to the depot. The Response Team or whoever is monitoring you will know that.”
“Sure, but after all this is over, I can always say that I went down there for gas and a tune-up or to have the hydraulics on my plow adjusted. Those things are very sensitive. Then I went to the pub. I’ll just say it must have fallen off from rolling over the snow. But I doubt it will get that far. The Response Team has no legal right to plant that thing in the first place, not that it will stop them. And nothing would happen to them, legally, for putting it there anyway. They’re a private contractor connected with a large corporation that works with the government. They do end runs around the legal system and have been doing it for years. They can act with impunity and do a whole lot worse to people when they have a mind to.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“They’re like Frenchy Durant, only more educated and wear better clothes.”
They remained silent as Logan concentrated on his driving. The snow had commenced in earnest now as he approached the highway from the Hessian Street entrance ramp. There was very little traffic, and the lanes were becoming patchy with ice and a light carpet of snow. When the truck passed the Pine Haven exit, they both couldn’t help but look in at the warning sign and the razor-wire-topped barricade that sealed off the ramp. They said nothing, both having their own thoughts about the recent events and doubts about what would eventually come from all of it. Nearly forty minutes had elapsed since they left downtown, when the Exit 74 sign loomed into view.
“Is this truck going to make it? However far up north we’re going?”
“It will get the job done, don’t you worry. We have to take it slow and not push it too hard.”
Once off the exit, they drove for another mile before spotting a long column of taillights interspersed with flashing amber roof lights. This section of the service road was a mess of wet furrows of slush, gouged with deep imprints of tread marks. De-icer must have been spread by one of the trucks to make the
staging area easier to negotiate. The snow was coming down hard and fast, small flakes driven by ten-mile-an-hour winds at a forty-five-degree angle. Logan pulled onto the shoulder, about twenty feet behind a large dump truck. It was an old, battered vehicle with remarkably small taillights. “We’ll wait until they start moving out, and then follow,” Natalie instructed.
Logan asked if she wanted some coffee. The thermos stood in the console between the seats.
“There will be time enough for that. Besides, Creech will need it once we’re on the road.”
Yeah right, Logan thought. Every effort must be made to keep their stowaway warm and cozy. Under different circumstances, he might have cursed himself for taking this adventure on, but feeling the rolled bundle of three thousand dollars in his inside breast pocket made him shirk any self-deprecation. He wondered if he could have asked for five. No, that would have been pushing it.
As they waited, the truck directly in front raised and lowered its plow; Logan could see the guides at the very edges of the wide, yellow blade move up and down. After a minute of this, the driver got out of the cab and walked in front of the vehicle, out of sight. Then the evenly spaced column of trucks started to move, one by one. “This looks like it,” Logan announced.
Natalie strained forward, eager to see. “We’ll follow until about five hundred yards from the entrance ramp and wait. After the last truck,” she said.
Logan knew that, having gone over the details with Frenchy earlier, before they left the depot. Most of the trucks were on the move now. The vehicles directly in front of the dump truck were beginning to inch forward, but the driver had yet to re-enter the cab. The driver’s-side door remained open. “Wait here,” he said and was out of the truck before Natalie could interrupt him. He walked to the front of the dump truck and found the driver perched on the rim of the enormous blade, hood up, leaning into the engine compartment. “Are you stuck?” Logan called up.
