by Thomas Shaw
“Dulles International… It’s going to be close,” were the only words he would say.
In the silence that followed, once again his thoughts drifted back to the moment of that fateful phone call. The rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers and the occasional click of the taximeter slowly brought Don back to the present.
Dulles was crowded, even at this late hour. The rates on the “red eyes” were as cheap as it gets, and they were still ridiculous.
Don decided on curbside check-in, the rain was encouraging most travelers to hurry inside and he didn’t feel like being around a bunch of strangers right now. Don looked at his ticket as he waited for the porter to ask him the soul searching question, “Are you bringing a bomb on this flight?”
He grimaced at the thought of flying coach. Being one of the top scientists in his field and working on classified projects, he was not used to second class airfare. The only clue that he was with the government was the absence of taxes on the ticket. “One bag checked to SFO and you’re all set,” said the porter with his commercial grin.
Don put $5 in his hand but the porter never responded. He knew the tip was low but with this recent craziness what would be appropriate… $20… $50. The one-way ticket from D.C. to San Francisco was just under $2,000.00. The world was going crazy and he knew it… because he was a part of it. Crazy was definitely the right word.
Riding in a “people mover” is like having an experience in pain. It’s something you have to endure until it’s over. The rain was still coming down in buckets as the huge elevator bus arrived on the tarmac at Delta’s flight 2410. Don stepped onto the plane and was about to present his boarding pass when the flight attendant announced… “Open seating”.
The Air Bus had plenty of empty seats which suited him just fine… the less contact that he had with the human race, the better he liked it. Seat 36A looked good. Don made a quick scan to confirm that there weren’t any new moms with screaming kids close by. This was his lucky night.
As he leaned back in his seat he thought about the “Ice Plant” and the mixed feelings he had about the “Project.”
As the big jet leveled off at altitude and the cabin lights dimmed, Don pulled his laptop computer from under the seat and set it on the dining tray. Most of the passengers had pulled the window shades down and wrapped up in their Delta blankets for the long ride to the West Coast.
From outside the plane, window 36A was glowing green from the laptop’s screen.
Don opened a new file in Microsoft-Word and started to type.
April 1, 2014
My name is Donald Goodman, PhD, and I am a research scientist at Lawrence Livermore Labs in the field of Computerized Behavioral Modification. This is a top secret program that has the capability to train selected combatants with the skills necessary to carry out very complex military assignments in an extremely short amount of time. The current use for this program is to give our counter-terrorists groups an honest advantage.
The story I’m about to tell is TRUE and by simply typing these words into my computer could cost me my life, but I feel compelled to document the events that led to this point in time…
25
Tracy, California…
Tom slowly closed the screen on his laptop. Tears were streaming down Julie’s face.
“I can hardly believe what we’ve just read,” Tom said, with hollow emotions; “It’s clear that dad was involved in something that has put his life in danger or even worse. At this point in time I don’t know for sure if he is dead or alive,”
“Well, we know for a fact that he was alive a couple of days ago when he left this memory stick for you to find,” Julie said on a more positive note.
“You’re right,” Tom said. “We’ve got to get more information before this puzzle falls apart and we lose valuable pieces.”
“You know what, I know just where to start,” he said, taking Julie’s hand and leading her out of the attic. It was about 10 o’clock in the morning when Tom and Julie rang the doorbell at Mrs. Johnson’s house. “Hello Tommy and Jill… I mean Julie,” she hurriedly corrected herself. “Can I get you a cup of coffee; we’re just starting to have a late breakfast?”
Tom and Julie were trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary as they sat down at the breakfast table with the Johnson’s. “Did you find your dad?” Mr. Johnson asked. “My wife said you were looking for him.”
“No, not yet, but we think we should be in contact soon.” Tom answered a little too quickly.
Tom quickly changed the subject. “I do want to ask you if you have noticed anything new or different in the neighborhood in the last couple of weeks or even months.”
“The only thing strange I’ve seen in the last couple of weeks is the comings and goings at your house,” Mrs. Johnson said.
Tom started to get a sinking feeling that this was going nowhere.
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson, spoke up. “You said anything new in the neighborhood… Well… what about that guy that rents the old Hannaford place?” he said, looking at his wife.
“What do you know about this guy?” Tom quickly asked.
“You’re right honey… we were talking about him at our last bridge party. Let me see if I can remember what they said about him,” she added. “Now I remember… one of the ladies said she thought he was from the mid-east like Iraq or Iran. He had a strange accent.”
“Can you tell me anything else about him?” Tom was pushing a little. “Like how old was he? Was he married, any kids, what kind of car did he drive? Things like that.”
“It’s hard to tell how old he is because everyone looks so young to me,” she laughed, but I think he may be in his early thirties.”
“I can tell you he drove a new Cadillac Escalade,” Mr. Johnson added quickly. “I never saw him with any other people but he did drive that car of his up and down the street several times a day. I thought that was strange, now that I think about it,” Mrs. Johnson added.
“Where is the Hannaford’s house, you’re talking about?” Tom pressed.
“It’s on our side of the street and if you count six houses down, that’s it,” she gestured with her hand.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Tom said, motioning to Julie that he wanted to leave. “Let me know if you see anything… and I’ll keep you posted when I hear from my dad,” Tom said, feeling he was creating more stress than needed.
Tom and Julie walked down the drive way, instead of turning right to go back to their house, Tom took Julies hand and turned left.
“This is Eagle 1, it looks like they are heading toward Mohammad’s place,” the radio crackled with the sound of static.
The end of the beginning
Code-5 part 2
1
Tracy, California…
For all appearances it looked like Tom and Julie were just out for a morning stroll. They walked briskly down the sidewalk but were carefully counting each house. “This has got to be it,” Tom said pointing to the mailbox with the name Hannaford printed on its side.
“What are you doing?” Julie whispered loudly as Tom reached into the box pulling out a handful of envelopes and flyers then quickly stuffed them under his shirt. “Don’t challenge me now, you’re making me nervous,” Tom said as he tried to smooth out the bulge under his shirt.
They quickly continued their “walk” and made a couple of right turns at the end of each block which brought them back to their house.
“Let’s have breakfast. I think I’ll brew up a pot of tea,” as he reached for the tea kettle.
“I thought we were…” Julie was quickly stopped by a hand signal from Tom. He pointed to his ear then pointed to the lamp with the “bug”. She immediately remembered the listening device and felt the flush of embarrassment cross her face. That would surely not happen again.
Five minutes later the tea pot started to whistle as Tom pulled the trigger that opened the lid on the pour spout. Steam swirled out in a steady
cloud as he held each envelope in its mist. Within minutes he had all the contents from the mailbox spread out on the kitchen table. He removed the cell phone from the pouch on his belt, selecting the camera option; he quickly took full frame flash pictures of each item. He immediately resealed the papers back in each of the envelopes and stacked them neatly on the table.
Julie had just finished cooking a pan full of bacon and eggs and was portioning it out on two plates.
“Let’s eat,” she said trying to sound normal. “I’m starved.”
“After we eat let’s go for a long walk. I need to stretch my legs after that cross country drive,” Tom added.
They ate their breakfast in strained silence.
“Where’s your fanny pack? I would like to take some water with us,” Tom stated as he put the breakfast dishes in the sink.
Julie hands the fanny pack to Tom as he adjusts the belt to his waist size, as he had never worn one of these things and would probably never wear one again. He positioned the pack so it hung in front of him. He placed two bottles of water in the pack then arranged all the materials he had taken from Mohammed’s mailbox on top of them.
“You ready?” he announced in a little louder voice than usual just to make sure the listening device in the other room heard him. With no further delay they walked out the front door and headed across the street toward the Johnson’s house, continuing the same route they had taken earlier. As they passed the Johnson’s house Tom leaned over and said in a whisper, “When we get to Mohammad’s I want you to stop and bend over as if you are tying your shoe. Make as much of a production out of it as you can.”
Julie gave him one of her, where did you come up with that looks but simply nodded her head.
As they approached the mailbox Tom stopped and Julie bent over to tie her shoe right on cue. Tom quickly pulled out the mail he had taken earlier and with one swift motion, returned it to its proper place. He looked back at Julie to find she was still bent over and found himself admiring the view.
“Come on, you don’t need to overdo it,” Tom said with a hint of laughter.
Julie straightened up and gave him another one of her “looks” and off they went, continuing their walk.
Little did they realize how well the distraction worked, because Eagle 1 never saw Tom touch the mailbox.
They meandered through the neighborhood until they came upon a small park with a kid’s jungle-gym and several swings. They both took a seat on the low slung swings and sat there for several minutes.
Tom broke the silence, “This is starting to drive me crazy. I feel like we are being followed at every turn, which makes me paranoid to even check out the pictures we took. We’ve got to find some place where we can have some privacy.”
“I know what you mean,” Julie added. “My intuitions are on full alert, something is wrong.”
“Let’s head back to the house, maybe we will come up with something by then,” Tom said as he gave Julie a hand to stand up.
As they approached their house, Tom says to Julie, “The weather is perfect. I think I’ll wash the car at least that will give me something to do. Why don’t you catch a couple of rays and finish reading your book.”
“Good idea,” Julie said as they turned and walked in the house.
Tom soon had the hose connected to the faucet and found all the items he needed to wash his car. Julie had changed into a two piece bathing suit and had found a lawn chair in the tool shed. She was settling in with her oversized sunglasses and book of the month as Tom started washing the car with a mild soap he had found in the kitchen.
As he splashed water over the car his thoughts kept drifting back to the listening device and un-nerving feeling that they were being watched. He suddenly realized that his car had been setting out all night in the driveway. Could it be that they had “bugged” his car as well? He immediately pulled the hood release and raised the front clip of his ‘Vette’ exposing the engine compartment. He was very familiar with his car and began to look for anything that might be out of place. After several minutes of washing and rinsing he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary and closed the hood. He stood looking at his car for a minute then it hit him. He hadn’t washed or looked under the car. He started by washing the front tire again, this time sitting down so he had a better view inside the wheel-well… again nothing. Instead of standing up and moving to the rear tire he opted to scoot on his butt, placing his hand along the underside of the frame as he moved. He suddenly hit what felt like a foreign object. He decided to lie flat on his back so he could see up under the car… there it was. A small 1”x1” cube stuck to the underside of the frame. Tom gave it a healthy pull and it popped off in his hand. This device was being held in place with a simple rare-earth magnet. He moved the cube back to where he found it and it immediately snapped back onto the frame.
Tom toweled the car dry and put away the hose and buckets then casually walked by Julie as he headed toward the front door. He quickly leaned over as if to give her a kiss on the cheek but quickly whispered, “Get dressed, we’re leaving!”
Julie sensed something was amiss but her communication ability was restricted; do to those listening devices. She was also surprised when Tom suggested making some sandwiches and put a few cold drinks in the Igloo cooler he had placed on the kitchen table.
“Are we finally going to have our picnic lunch?” She mused.
Tom just gave her a wink, without answering. After making the sandwiches he picked up the cooler and loaded it in the ‘Vette’, which left just enough room for his T-tops. Tom turned left on 11th street and headed east, taking them out of the downtown area.
With the top off there was ample wind noise to mask their conversation. “I think I found a tracking device while I was washing the car,” Tom said as he maneuvered through Tracy’s light traffic.
“What’s the plan?” Julie responded, totally confused. “Are they going to track us to where ever we go?”
“I’m still trying to figure that one out,” he answered. “Years ago when I was taking flying lessons here at the Tracy airport, I would fly over a place called the New Jerusalem airstrip and practice my touch and goes. That place was out in the boon-docks back then; let’s check it out. Try typing in New Jerusalem Airport on our GPS and see what it finds?”
Julie pulled the Garmin out of the glove box and found the “Points of Interest” mode and typed in; New Jerusalem Airport. The screen changed instantly, showing the destination, miles to go and arrival time.
“It looks like we are only about 12½ miles from this airport.” Julie replied, reading the information off the screen.
Without warning Tom suddenly turned left across the highway into a gravel parking lot in front of Bill’s Bait & Tackle. There were three heavily used pickup trucks parked in a row in front of the building. Tom pulled up behind the third one, coming to a quick stop he opened his door and before he stepped out, he reached under his car and felt for the frame and the magnetically attached tracking device. He soon found what he was looking for and with a quick tug, pulled the unit free. As he stepped out of the car he turned to show Julie what he had in his hand. He turned again and with one simple motion placed the magnet under the bumper of the truck and slid back into his car… they were off.
“Was that little thing the tracking device?” Julie questioned.
“Let’s let them follow that guy for a while. For some reason I want them to know that we know what they are doing,” Tom said as he followed the GPS instruction that was taking them to the airstrip. Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on the side of 2 Rivers Road looking at a sign with an arrow pointing toward the airport.
“Are we going to the airport?” Julie asked.
There was a long pause; “No I don’t think so,” Tom said slowly. “I seem to remember seeing an old abandoned barge dock somewhere east of here on a canal. It seemed strange to me that there would be a pumping station out here in the middle of no-where.”
Tom eased the ‘Vette’ back on the roadway and continued east. After about 3 miles the road made a fairly sharp turn to the left. That’s when he saw the canal. He pulled off onto the shoulder and made a quick U-turn. After back tracking about three hundred feet he saw the dirt and gravel road leading back along the canal heading south. They followed this road for about a quarter of a mile when Tom spotted the pipes leading down to the canal, ending at a rickety old dock. “This is it,” Tom said with excitement. “There shouldn’t be anyone here except us, so if someone does show up we will know it’s them, whoever [they] are.”
Tom turns left toward the water and stopped about twenty feet short of the canal.
“This is the spot you pick for our picnic?” Julie remarked with a large amount of skepticism.
“When I use to fly over this area I never saw anyone or anything ever coming close to this old pumping station. Back in the day they must have brought in tanker trucks, to this location, to off load the liquid products brought in by the barges. I think when they built Interstate 5 it must have eliminated the need for this kind of setup.”
“Let’s take our cooler and blanket down by those low level pipes so we’ll have something to lean against,” Tom said as he pointed toward the old dock.
Several minutes later with their legs stretched out and leaning back on the pipes they were beginning to feel that this was a secure location. “This is the first time I actually feel like we can talk without someone looking over our shoulder,” Tom said with obvious relaxation in his voice. “Let’s take a look at what we found in this guy’s mailbox.”