“Good to go?” I asked.
Ivan and Sue nodded. Their disguises looked effective.
As we’d read in Jorge’s note, there was a different exit to the room. As we approached, the door opened and a Latino man in the same clothing we had on walked in. We hesitated. He held out a ring with two keys on it. That was the next step of the plan, so I walked forward and took them from him.
Proceeding out the door, we turned left as per our instructions. I didn’t bother looking around to see if anyone had spotted us or if we were being followed; this was either going to work or it wasn’t. Our heads were down and forward, like three airport janitors just doing their job.
The corridor was crowded, and we had to weave around people. We turned the corner, and the door with the correct number on it was to our right. I used one of the keys to unlock it. It led to an employee changing area with lockers along one wall. No one was there. We discarded our disguises, shoving them into an empty locker.
Sue pointed to the opposite end of the long room. “There it is.”
I used the second key to open that door. We walked out into a small courtyard with a slightly ajar gate at the end.
We paused to look around before opening the gate. Jorge stood fifty feet away next to a nondescript gray cargo van.
We ran in a crouch and jumped in the back.
Jorge was in the driver’s seat in a matter of seconds and we were off.
There was a wooden bench with cushions on either side for us to sit on. The only window was the front windshield. The duffel bags were there, next to a couple of rolled-up lengths of foam and thin blankets.
Mike was sitting on the bench right behind the front passenger’s seat, smiling. “We did it.”
I didn’t want to celebrate yet and moved around Sue to sit right behind the driver’s seat. I watched as Jorge maneuvered the bigger van out of the airport and onto the road leading to Interstate 20.
“Notice anyone?” I finally asked to the back of his head.
“So far, so good.” Jorge was checking his mirrors constantly.
Ivan had moved up to the opposite bench, next to Mike. “How long will it take us?”
“More than twenty-four hours.” I’d been the one who’d mapped out our route. “Fifteen hundred miles, give or take.”
Ivan leaned his head back against a metal rib of the unfinished van. “Might as well get comfortable.”
Sue reached for a duffel bag and started rooting around until she found a sweatshirt.
“You cold?” Mike asked. “I’m warm.”
“I have less fat than you,” Sue prodded.
“Hey, I’ve lost a bunch of weight.” Mike showed a bicep and flexed. “I’m lean.”
Sue smiled. “You’re lean … er.”
The duffel bag switch was a good idea. They were Jorge’s. We’d transferred our warm-weather clothes and toiletries to the duffels. We’d left our bulkier clothes and a few hotel towels for weight in our suitcases.
“Jorge, you must thank your custodial friends for the help,” Ivan said.
“They owed me a favor.” Jorge glanced back at Ivan. “Come sit in the passenger seat. It’s more comfortable.”
Ivan took him up on his offer. “It’s not going to take long for the authorities to figure out we didn’t get on the planes, but we have a head start.”
“And they have no idea which way we’re going,” I added.
We entered onto I-20, heading east.
Everyone settled in and got as comfortable as possible.
I rummaged around the duffel bag containing my belongings and found the only bulky article of clothing I’d kept, a sweatshirt. I used it as a pillow against the metal wall.
With idle time I was curious about Mike’s last year. He was sitting across from me. “So what happened to you after getting away from the cabin outside of Vancouver?”
Mike looked like he was dozing off. “Oh, um, it seems so long ago already.” He sat up straighter. It was like his mind went away for a moment and then came back. “It really freaked me out, seeing Tanner and Dr. Roth get shot right beside me. It fucks you up … you know.”
I knew the feeling.
Sue was next to me. “Yeah.”
“I felt like I needed to get far away and regroup. Jorge and Lorraine wanted me to stick with them while they figured out how to hook back up with you all. At the time I thought the farther away I was from you guys the safer I’d be. I realize now that I wasn’t thinking straight.”
It was rare to hear Mike talk about how he felt. His usual response to everything was, “Whatever, fuck it.”
“I figured that since I was a bit player, I could get away and the Naintosa thugs wouldn’t track me. And it worked for a while …” He zoned out again and then came back. “I rode a bus east to Kelowna. Not a bad place to lay low—desert, big lake, fruit orchards, and wineries. A guy I grew up with, Bob, married a Canadian, and they lived there, so I stayed with them for a few months. They had two annoying young kids and a small place, so I couldn’t stay with them indefinitely. Plus, I was scared to access my bank account, so I worked with Bob in construction, banging nails, which sucked.”
“I don’t see you doing manual labor,” I said.
Sue pushed up against the side of the van for support. “What happened next?”
“Bob’s wife had a cousin who was a pot grower. He had a supply line to get his product to the US. There was a border exchange point in the middle of nowhere at a place called Midway.”
I remembered driving through Midway when Morgan and I went to Christina Lake to hide and write the exposé. A lump formed in my throat at the memory.
“You could only get to the place on dirt bike at night. I had to be doubled on the bike by some big smelly fucker. I got across and was given a ride by the US pot bandits all the way to Wenatchee. Those guys were serious grease balls—missing teeth, tattoos, Pantera blaring from the cassette player of the pickup. I had to pound Jack Daniels with them and chain-smoke Camel un-filters, just to fit in.”
The way he said it made me think of a number of sarcastic comments, but I wanted to be supportive of Mike because it wasn’t funny for him. I glanced at Sue and her jaw was clenched, most likely feeling the same way.
Mike looked from me to Sue. “It was serious. I was scared.”
“Sounds serious,” I said.
“What happened then?” Sue added in a reassuring tone.
“I caught a bus to my sister’s place in Bellingham and lay low there. I didn’t go out for the longest time.”
Bellingham brought back another memory of when Morgan and I passed through there on our way to and from Vancouver. “I didn’t know your sister lived there.”
“She married a wildlife photographer, and they moved there. Cool guy. And Bellingham has a big arts community. Anyway, I kept up with what you put on your website, including the final 2020 Report. After a while I realized my life was worth nothing just sitting around hiding. That encouraged me to want to get back on the trail of the seed bank, but I thought I’d be best flying alone under the radar. So I planned my expedition to Norway. You know the rest already—almost got caught, was chased, got back to Amsterdam, and then came to find you guys. Barf. The end.”
CHAPTER 22
May 15, 2003
We’d all taken turns driving. The only times the van would stop was for gas, restroom, and food breaks, or the number of occasions when there was heavy traffic in larger cities.
Everyone else was asleep. I checked the rear-view mirror out of habit. We hadn’t spotted anyone tailing us the whole way. There hadn’t been many cars on the road overnight since I’d taken over driving, and this stretch was long straight bridge, after long straight bridge, with some land occasionally thrown in. What I could see of the scenery in the dark was beautiful—vast ocean and then white sand beaches, palm trees, and cute villages, on almost every island.
The sky was beginning to lighten, and it promised to be another sunny da
y. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard—it had taken us seven hours longer than I’d thought it would.
More vehicles were now on the road as we passed by a naval air station that practically took up a whole key.
“Are we close?” Ivan had awoken in the passenger seat.
“I think so,” I said.
“There’s a map in the glove box.” Jorge knelt between the seats.
Sue and Mike were awake too and crouched behind Jorge to look out the windshield.
Ivan found the map, and I reached into my pocket for the paper with the address.
None of us had been to Key West before, except for Jorge, who’d been once.
We crossed another long bridge, and at the end was a sign that read, WELCOME TO KEY WEST.
“I just might retire here,” Mike said. “Let my hair grow, stick my toes in the sand, listen to Jimmy Buffet songs all day long.”
“I could see that,” Sue said.
Following Ivan’s directions, we turned left onto White Street.
A block before a marina we turned onto a boulevard lined with palm trees and shops on both sides. At the corner of the next block, we found what we were looking for. It was so early in the morning that we were able to park right out front of Ang’s Fish Market and Charters.
Everyone got out and stretched their legs. It had been a long thirty-two hours in the cargo van.
The air was refreshingly cool with flat light as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. The smell of the ocean surrounded the island. Yet a sudden waft of dog poo overpowered all other scents.
“Don’t people clean up after their dogs around here?” Mike asked no one in particular. “That reminds me, I need a toilet. Nature is waking up.”
“Don’t draw attention,” Jorge said.
“From whom?” Mike asked. “The place is deserted.”
Cries of seagulls could be heard, yet otherwise all was quiet.
The fish market wouldn’t be open for another two hours. We noticed a popular chain’s coffee shop down the street and decided to go there. Its green mermaid logo beckoned us.
As we walked a street sweeper rounded the corner, its sound overamplified due to the lack of background noise.
Only a few patrons were inside the shop. The restrooms could only hold one person at a time so we alternated, making Mike go last. Everyone ordered variations of coffee. There weren’t any specific breakfast foods, so we settled for muffins.
Once back outside, we strolled back to the fish market.
At the end of the block Sue pointed to benches one street over on a promenade. “We could wait there.”
As the sun rose higher, a breeze was kicking up, intensifying the salty tang in the air.
Past the buildings the view opened up to show the ocean beyond a decent-size marina. There were boats of every size and shape. On the promenade we sat down on two side-by-side, metal-ribbed white benches.
“Nice place,” Ivan said.
“Very chill,” Mike said.
“Look at that beach over there.” Sue pointed to the right.
I turned my head in the direction Sue had drawn our attention to and noticed a man walking toward us. I recognized him. It was the man we were looking for.
“There’s Paul.” Sue stood up.
Paul saw us, too, and quickened his stride. Next to him and keeping pace was a chocolate Labrador retriever, tongue lolling.
Sue and I stepped forward to greet him.
“You made it,” Paul said as he came up to us.
I went to shake his hand, but he embraced me instead, then Sue.
The muscular dog sat down on his haunches a few feet away and sniffed the air.
Sue introduced Paul to the others. Paul and Mike had remembered meeting before.
I patted the dog on the head, and he looked up at me, eyes approving.
“This is Tao,” Paul said. “He’s our family protector and guide … very wise.”
“He’s beautiful,” Sue said.
“He goes where I go,” Paul said.
Paul was small in stature but had a large energy about him. I’d always seen him in button-down shirts and dress slacks when he was the editor of the Seattle News, but now he looked right at home in a T-shirt and cargo shorts. He’d aged since we last saw him, his tanned skin taking on a leathery texture with wrinkles setting deeper. However, the black-rimmed glasses were the same.
“I see you’ve all got coffee,” Paul said. “Let’s go to my store and figure you out.”
We followed Paul and Tao across the street and into an alley, passing a loading bay to reach the back entrance of his fish market.
There were two men—one younger, the other more elderly, both of Asian descent, filleting fish on a stainless-steel table. The room had a concrete floor and white tiled walls. We kept going and walked down a hall with boxes piled on one side until we reached an office. One wall had a window that looked out into the store, where we could see refrigerated displays, a glass-fronted freezer, and shelves running down the middle of the room that contained canned and packaged goods. The office’s white walls had several pictures of boats moored or out at sea. The room was set up in the way Paul kept everything—neat and orderly.
Paul took a seat behind the old chipped-and-scratched desk in a well-worn chair on casters. He motioned for us to sit in five similar chairs, less the casters, across from him. Tao went straight to a tan dog bed in the corner.
“So, you need me to take you to a Caribbean island, where you can get a plane to somewhere?” Paul restated from our phone conversation. “I’m assuming it’s because your movements are being tracked and you don’t want certain people to know where you’re going.”
Ivan gestured with his hands. “You see, we have been conducting experiments and have made findings about …” He stalled midsentence, as if not sure how much to divulge.
“I’ve kept up with as much as I could find about what you’re all doing.” Paul slanted his head toward a desk top computer. “Rest assured, Dr. Popov, I believe in your findings and want to help in any way I can.”
Ivan looked visibly relieved.
“You’re an upstanding guy,” Mike said. “Always have been.”
Paul smiled at Mike. “And from what I remember, you like to get into trouble now and again … but your heart is in the right place.”
Mike visibly blushed.
Paul had never been afraid of fighting for causes he believed in. He was a man of integrity, and his word meant everything. It was known that his retirement from the Seattle News wasn’t just because his parents were elderly and someone needed to take over running the family business, but because of an ethical issue with GM Comm. What that exact ethical issue was, he’d kept to himself.
“As I mentioned to Nick, I have a boat big enough to take you, if you can spare the time it would take.”
“Getting away unnoticed is the most important objective,” I said.
Paul nodded. “Do you have a particular island in mind?”
“Saint Thomas, US Virgin Islands, would be ideal,” Jorge said. “That’s where the individual who’s going to help us on the next leg of our journey is based.”
Jorge had told us that he had an old friend there who was a pilot and had two planes.
“You see, we’ll be going to …”
Paul cut Mike off. “I don’t need to know your final destination. It’s better that I don’t.”
Mike nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s just that we trust you.”
“You’re dealing with ruthless organizations, and I don’t want to have where you’re going beaten out of me.” Paul stood and took a framed map of the Caribbean off the wall and placed it on the desk.
We all huddled closer.
“I’ve chartered to most of the islands before.” Paul put his finger on Key West. “Our starting point.” He moved his finger down and around Cuba. “We can’t stop to refuel in Cuba, so it’ll have to be Puerto Plata, Dominican Repub
lic.” His finger moved again. “From there, we can get to Saint Thomas.”
“How long will the voyage take?” Ivan looked worried. “We might not have that much time.”
Paul took his finger off the map and opened a drawer in the desk. He pulled out a chart and started writing calculations on a pad of paper. “It’s eleven hundred and seventy miles as the crow flies. So approximately …” He made more calculations. “Two and a half days, give or take, depending on the weather.”
Ivan seemed to relax. “That’s manageable.”
“Even though, hopefully, you weren’t followed here,” Paul said. “This is a good plan, because it definitely throws off any pursuers by taking you off the grid.”
Everyone was in agreement.
Paul nodded. “How about you go wander around for, let’s say, two hours, while I get things setup?”
“Thank you for doing all of this, Paul,” Sue said. “I’m sure you have a lot of other stuff you need to be doing.”
“For you, anything.” He stood up. “You all have to try to stop this population control plan … and whatever I could do to make Davis Lovemark’s life more difficult, I’m for.”
We found a place to have breakfast and then took a walk along the promenade, admiring the warm sea air and the ocean we would soon be on.
We wondered out loud about what Paul had said regarding hopefully not having been followed to Key West. Could the Naintosa men in the Ford have been a mile behind us and now lurking somewhere? I was confident they weren’t because of the long straight bridges across the Keys—I would’ve noticed.
Using the burner phone I’d given him, Jorge called his pilot friend on Saint Thomas to confirm he could fly us to Bogota in three or four days. “All set,” Jorge said as he pocketed the phone after the call.
We turned around to head back to the fish market.
“I apologize, but I have to ask again,” Jorge said. “You trust Paul with your lives, right?”
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