Curds and Whey Box Set

by G M Eppers

  A call ahead had alerted the president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo that we were coming out and he and his Smart Car met us at Kinshasa airport. The CURDS3 sat bathed in floodlights a few hundred feet away down the tarmac as the helicopters landed and we stepped off, enjoying the breeze the blades whipped up. I walked up to him to take our leave as most everyone else looked on, pretending they weren’t actually looking at their cell phones. “Thank you for helping us, Kiki.”

  “I’m sorry it ended so sadly. I had no idea the Uber cartel was there.”

  “I know.” I dug the pendant out of my pocket and showed it to him. “You know the story behind this?”

  “All of Kinshasa knows the story behind that.”

  I lifted his hand and dangled the pendant into his palm, letting the lanyard curl in on itself burying the tooth underneath. I closed his fingers over it. “Take it. This should stay here. If he had family, they should have it.”

  He bowed, and I watched him walk back to his Smart Car where his chauffer was waiting, holding the passenger side door open for him. He got inside and the chauffer closed the door quietly and hurried around to the other side to get in behind the wheel. The Smart Car drove away.

  Billings escorted me to the waiting plane. “I can’t wait until we’re in the air. I’m going to shower all the way home. And cold, too. I’ve never wanted a cold shower so much in my life.” I looked at him sideways, and he added, “Wanted, not needed. There’s a difference.” He stroked his rough beard. “I might keep this, though. Do I look distinguished?”

  I knew exactly what to say. “You might want to check with Avis on that.”

  “She loves me. If I want a beard she’ll let me have a beard.”

  He may have seen my grin. In the dim light, he may not have. In any case, for now, I was going to let him think he was in control of his facial hair. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned it on, glad to see four full bars on the status line. The battery is just below 40 percent. I dialed Mom, knowing it would still be late afternoon there. I might be interrupting Jeopardy, but I knew she’d want to hear from me. I listened to it ring. And ring. And ring.

  I stopped walking. “Billings.”

  The phone call went to voice mail, which was a generic male computer voice and a standard message because Mom had never figured out how to check messages on her cell. She always answered the phone herself. Always. I called her land line, where she had an answering machine she knew how to work. When the machine picked up, I said, “Hi, Mom, it’s Helena. I’m back and I missed your voice. Call me when you get this.”

  “Mom?” asked Billings.

  I hung up and called the cell again. It couldn’t be a misdial. I was calling from the directory. It went to voice mail again. “She’s not answering.”

  “Grandma not answering her phone? That’s not possible.” He paused a moment, thinking back. “Wait, didn’t you say she got jury duty?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I bet she’s sequestered,” he said, doing a face palm.

  Quickly, I dialed another number. Butte would know what was going on. But when there was no answer at his number either I started to get worried. “Your father isn’t answering his phone, either,” I told Billings. “I’d like to find out for sure. Come on.”

  Chapter Four

  Billings reached the plane’s staircase only a step ahead of me, and I followed him up only to cluster in the locker room. Dinny and the rest of the team were all there. Most were scrambling for their go bags in which they stored shower toiletries and a change of clothes. Dinny was yelling above the noise for any firearms to store in the arms locker she was holding open. “And remember. No showers until we’re cruising. You guys strap in. I’m going to count heads!”

  Now that we were in an enclosed space, the smell of us was suffocating. We were riper than a freshly turned compost heap. “You heard her, gang,” I shouted as I grabbed my go bag as well. “Dinny, there won’t be anything for the arms locker. It was all confiscated by the Black Ops. It will be returned to Miss Chiff for redistribution when they’re finished.” She almost looked disappointed as she closed the locker. Only a few little-used arms were in there. It practically echoed. I maneuvered through the crowd to reach my locker as well, and to tag Roxy, who was nearby. “Roxy, I need to talk to you.”

  She carefully removed her snap-on wedge heels and found a place for them in her locker. “Go ahead.” She got her go bag, which was seriously overstuffed. I saw the edges of a periwinkle evening gown and the cord for a steamer sticking out. “I can’t wait to get in that shower. Did you know evening gowns don’t breathe?”

  The crowd started to thin as some of the team moved on into the cabin. “We all want to shower, Roxy. Remember, I had a spider the size of a car on my head.” I felt the top of my head just to make sure it was gone, and wiggled a brief heebie jeebie. I was half expecting her to deny it, since they’d all sworn that Billings had pulled a gray hair out of my head, but she didn’t bother.

  “I ate worms!” Badger yelled, unable to avoid overhearing our conversation. “I need to wash inside and out.”

  Before the “I sufferedathon” could really get started, I said, “Can you find out if a particular trial is underway or if the jury has been sequestered?”

  With his complaint ignored, Badger huffed and left the locker room. It was down to Roxy, Billings and me. “That’s kind of out of the blue. But I think so. Which jurisdiction?”

  “My home town. Springfield, Illinois.”

  She clenched her teeth. “I don’t know anyone in that area, but I might be able to find a back door. Friend of a friend of a friend kind of thing. Looking for someone in particular?”

  “My mother. She got jury duty, but I don’t know if her trial started yet. She’s not answering her phone. I have a bad feeling about it.” I really did have a bad feeling. What if she had ignored my advice and gone to see Shirley? She might have been put in jail for contempt. But then she would have left a message as her one phone call. Or would she have had to call Butte to bail her out instead since he was in the area? That didn’t explain why he wasn’t answering his phone, either. I had already done the temporal math in my head and it should be late afternoon there. No reason for either of them to be out of touch.

  Roxy hefted her go bag into her arms. “It has to wait until we’re at altitude, but I’ll see what I can do. You’ll owe me one.”

  “I’ll owe you three if you want. I just want to know where my mother is.”

  The three of us went into the cabin, Roxy ahead of us. She took one look inside and screamed. “Oh my God!”

  I sighed as Billings and I entered the plane.

  There was yarn everywhere.

  Red yarn; yellow yarn; shiny, purple yarn; and hunter green yarn in strands, loops, knots, and piles from one end of the lower cabin to the other. Roxy’s crochet bag was in the middle of the floor, deflated and empty, scissors, hooks and printed, slightly shredded patterns scattered nearby. Roxy stood there, holding the only coherent thing she had left: the salmon ball of irony she’d been crocheting with a long tail of unstitched yarn on the end. “Kevin, what happened?”

  Kevin, the pilot who’d been left in charge of the plane while Dinny joined us in the Congo, had a small armful of yarn that he’d been attempting to gather up before we got in. The guilt on his face was obvious. “The cats had a party while I was talking to the tower. Don’t worry. I sent the strippers home.”

  Roxy did not laugh, but Badger, Sir Haughty and Nitro did. I had to press my lips together to stop from joining them. “They’re in their carriers, I assume?”

  “Now they are. Yes. I forgot about dinging the seatbelt sign until just a few minutes ago. I was frantic!” He bent down to pick up more yarn, but some of the yarn he already had in hand broke loose and tumbled down to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you new yarn. I swear.”

  Dinny saved him by tapping his shoulder. “Let’s get in the air, cat whisperer.
I’m assuming Miss Chiff wants us in D.C. for debriefing right away.”

  “That’s right.” He finally noticed the smell. “You’re not going into my cockpit like that.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled. “It’s temporary. I’ll shower when we’re cruising.”

  My phone was still in my hand and while all this had been going on I’d been alternately redialing Mom’s and Butte’s numbers. There was still no answer from either one.

  Wrinkling his nose, Kevin went into the cockpit with Dinny. Agnes found an end to the purple yarn and started rolling it up, while Avis did the hunter green. I was anxious, and it took me a while to find an unclaimed end, but I finally found the red one. Sylvia had the yellow, and between all of us we sucked up the yarn from the floor like Lady and the Tramp eating spaghetti. By the time we had it cleaned up and tucked into Roxy’s canvas tote we heard the buzz of the intercom. “Okay, guys. We have a runway in five minutes. Buckle up,” Kevin said.

  Fifteen minutes later we were approaching cruising and Kevin turned off the seatbelt sign. People scrambled for the showers. Billings, Sylvia, Sir Haughty and Nitro won the first wave and disappeared into the area below the upper deck. I didn’t even try to get in first. I went to sit by Roxy, who was already on her cell phone. “Hey, Louise, I have a favor to ask. Do you have access to active trials in the Springfield, Illinois area?”

  I sat up straight, listening to the muffled sound of running water and half-wishing I was under a cool shower with half a bottle of shampoo on my head. I bit my thumbnail and listened to Roxy’s side of the call. “Do you know who might?” Darn. That meant a negative answer to her first question. “Okay, great. I’ll do that.” She punched the End Call button, then went back to Dial, using her index finger to poke at the screen. She winked at me. “I’ve got this.” After a moment, it was “Hi, Mike.” Her voice took on a slightly more alluring tone. “Sweetie, I need some information. No, I don’t think you’ll be breaking any confidentiality. A friend of mine is trying to get in touch with her mother who was selected for jury duty in Springfield. The one in Illinois. Yeah, the capital. That’s the one. I just need to know if her trial has started and she’s out of touch for the duration.”

  “It’s the Krochedy trial,” I prompted. Asking for a specific juror probably would violate some kind of rule, but what harm could it do to identify if a trial has begun?

  “The Krochedy trial,” Roxy said. “What? Are you sure?” Her expression went from sultry and clever to crestfallen. “Thanks, Mike. I owe you one.” She put the phone down and looked at me. “The Krochedy trial has been delayed because juror eight can’t be found. The prosecutor asked for 24 hours to find him or her and the judge granted the continuance. Sorry, he couldn’t give me any details that could determine who juror eight is.”

  “Huge coincidence if it isn’t Mom.”

  I dialed Miss Chiff as T.B., Backwash, and Harelip all sauntered into the cabin. Dinny, who had just let them out, whispered something to Badger, who was closest, and then went back to the cockpit. I could guess that she wanted to know when a shower was open.

  The three cats only got to the first set of seats, then sat there in a row sniffing the air. T.B. licked one paw and used it to clean behind an ear. Backwash rolled onto his haunches, stuck a rear paw high in the air, and licked something else. Harelip watched, then walked over and groomed Backwash’s neck. Everyone’s a critic, I thought. I’m not sure if they were trying to drop a hint, but they were just going to have to wait for the non-stinky humans to reappear.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Chiff, this is Helena Montana. I’d like to divert the CURDS1 to Springfield, Illinois due to a family emergency.” This had never happened before. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. To mitigate it, I added, “Badger will send you a report within –“I was going to say within the hour, but I decided to be more generous, “the next two hours.”

  “This is highly unorthodox, Helena. Personal debriefing is the norm for all missions in which personnel are lost.”

  “My mother is not answering her phone.” It sounded small and insignificant when I said it out loud, but anyone who knew my mother would know it was anything but. I’m not sure if Miss Chiff had ever met my mother. “She is serving on a jury and I’ve gotten word that a juror is missing. I think she might be in danger.”

  “I see.” It was unclear if she actually did see. “Unfortunately, as it’s a personal matter, I can’t authorize a government plane to provide transportation.”

  “But Miss Chiff –“ I couldn’t stop myself from trying to argue. I wanted to get to Springfield as soon as possible and find out what was going on.

  “I’m sorry, Helena. The best I can do is arrange a charter plane to meet you that will take you there. Hold on while I look into that.” I could hear her computer keys clicking and I waited. At least we were going in the same general direction. It wasn’t like every minute of delay was taking me further away from my destination. Diverting to Springfield would really only be an extension, so I didn’t really see what the big deal was. At the same time, I understood the optics of using a federally funded plane, especially a large one like the CURDS1, to tend to personal business even if it was an emergency. The Office of Government Ethics kept a very tight rein on those kinds of things. If the media got wind of it they would play it as an abuse and cause a load of bad PR that the department really didn’t need, especially after losing a plane and most of a field team.

  After about five minutes, Miss Chiff came back on the line. “Still there, Helena?”

  “Yes.”

  The clicking of her computer keys continued as she talked. “I will alert Mr. Butz that you are to land at Dulles rather than Ronald Reagan. You and Billings are to report to Gate five on Concourse Z, as in Zebra, and you will board Flight X321. It will take you to Springfield, Illinois non-stop. I hope you can find it, because if you ask anyone they will tell you gate five doesn’t exist. Look for an unmarked door. You will have to go through commercial channels, meaning airport security. You can show the attendant your CURDS ID, but don’t use it at the TSA checkpoint. It would get flagged.”

  “Flagged? Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy tickets on a regular flight?”

  “The shortest one has a two-hour layover in Hoboken. This will be faster. You want faster or easier?”

  “Faster. Thank you, Miss Chiff.”

  “You see, my concern is because, as you know, Ima Badassi escaped custody. He or his operation may be trying to track CURDS members. This side mission is personal and must be clandestine.”

  It meant we wouldn’t be able to use CURDS issue equipment, in particular weapons, not that there was much left. We would be able to contact the local police department for backup if something came up we couldn’t handle, but we were pretty much taking a leave of absence.

  “I understand. I’ll make sure Badger has statements from both of us before we land.”

  I was about to disconnect, but she stopped me. :I’ll get some of the paperwork started while you take care of your personal business. There are some commendations in order, I would expect. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  I hadn’t really thought about the commendations, and it was hard to focus on the very idea, but it was easy to pick one. “From Team C, her name is Susan. I didn’t get her last name.”

  “I have it. There will be several posthumous commendations. I spoke with Iris Beneman during the extraction and got a list of the casualties. Anyone from your own team that you feel should get special recognition?”

  I hesitated. It was a bit too soon to process everything that went down. “Everyone performed well, I think, but I didn’t see everything. Badger may have more information.” He would probably take some time to prod the rest of the team for details, then compile it into a narrative for his report. He’d have to prod me, too. I didn’t look forward to it. I already wanted to forget the whole thing.

  I could hear her pen scratching now. “Very well. This is a
very difficult part of my job, Helena. Commendations don’t really seem like enough. But I’ll put commendations in for all the casualties and Kevin Butz.”

  My jaw dropped. “Kevin Butz? The pilot? He stayed on the plane!” I didn’t mention that he had let the cats run wild. Why would he get a commendation?

  “He didn’t tell you?” She took my silence for a no and went on. “He caught the saboteurs, Helena. The CURDS3 was sabotaged, yes?”

  “Yes. How did you –?”

  “He saw two men tending to the CURDS1 and called the tower to find out if any maintenance had been scheduled. Refueling and inspection had been completed hours earlier. He was able to give a detailed description and observed them until security officers arrived to get them. A brief interrogation and they told us about the guerrilla compound, enabling us to notify President Glenarrow who authorized the nearest military unit to intervene.” That explained the appearance of the Black Ops, which, as it turned out, may or may not have had anything to do with my activating the new STD. That whole thing might have simply bought time. Not useless, but not the legacy I wanted to leave for Susan’s sake, either. I could only imagine the real meaning behind “brief interrogation.”

  “They were messing with our plane?” I grabbed the armrest as if that would save me.