by Cara Charles
The streets were deserted, but it all looked new to him. He hadn’t driven himself anywhere in years, driving again was a whole new experience. He had no mental road map, but he recalled the roads, monuments and landmarks, from his frequent aerial view of them.
He felt the doubled over envelope. It felt like hair. It had to be hair. It sounded like hair inside. This was the sample they had to protect. They couldn’t let it fall into enemy hands and he understood why. DNA.
It took the President five minutes to get to the Jefferson Memorial.
He parked fifty yards away, turned off his lights, and kept the motor idling.
The Memorial was beautifully lit, a beacon in the dark night.
He waited in the warm car. They’d given him a towel, a complete change of warm clothes in a pizza delivery bag. The car was warm enough to change in, grateful as he slipped out of his soaked ones to be bagged, and given to his contact, young Sean Rooney. It felt good to be warm and dry again.
There was the photo of the Saab, the plates, and Sean Rooney. They had two pills for Sean. One to take, and one to take with him before the President left him, and an I-pod for Sean to listen to once he left the Memorial.
Warm and dry again, drinking the hot chocolate they’d left for him POTUS felt his energy rise. The sugar and the chocolate did him good. He felt brighter.
He watched the sporadic car lights.
Sean’s Saab drove into the lot near the Memorial.
The President watched the young man in the hooded coat run into the Memorial.
The President put the car in gear, crossed the bridge, and went under it in thirty seconds. In the left pocket as promised, stick drives for Sean to fix the problem. He put the I-pod in the other. The President, his hood up exited the car, and went around to another entrance.
When he was near Jefferson’s statue he whispered, “Sean Rooney?”
Sean froze. That voice. It seemed familiar.
There was a tall light skinned Black man.
A familiar face in the black running suit, and black skullcap was walking toward him.
The President watched Sean’s face. He was frozen, perhaps scared of him. So he took off his cap and hood, smiled his famous smile.
“Sean Rooney? We’re on the same team.”
Sean felt light headed. It was the President putting on his cap.
‘Wow! Had he screwed up that badly?’
Sean’s face showed recognition then he smiled. Then his jaw dropped, his hand went to his open mouth as the excitement rose in Sean’s eyes.
The President put his finger to his lips.
“Oh God! Sir? Balderdash, mean anything to you, sir?”
“Yes, Sean. Balderdash, it is. My grandfather used to say that.”
“Oh my God, sir. Mine too. Oh my God! My mess must be really, really bad. Is that why they sent you? It is why they sent you! Poor Shirley. Don’t fire her please. It was all me.”
Sean was walking in circles, now throwing up his hands, melting down.
The President walked over to him, put his arm around him, looking out for the attendant that mysteriously disappeared.
“Sean. Listen to me, now. Be cool. It’s only you and I on this mission. We’ve got to do what’s expected of us. Loyal people are counting on us.”
The President strengthened his embrace.
Sean was tearing up.
“You’re forgiven. This is a very big deal, Son. We know it was a simple mistake. What you do later, will hopefully take them off the scent. I’m the only one they could trust. Understand? Now, we have to trust you to do the right thing. You up for this?”
“Yes sir. I want to make it right, my mistake I mean.”
“That’s the spirit, Sean. Take this I-pod, zip drive, and chew this white pill.”
Sean obediently chewed the large flat white pill.
The President showed him the last pill, a flat pink oval pill.
“After, you’ve uploaded the zip drive’s info, take this pink pill. Go back to the Archives now and enter it. They’ll cover your steps. This pill will keep you safe. Help you forget. Use your I-pod as you take the pink pill.”
“Sir? I don’t even know what I did.” Sean hung his head.
“Good. Let’s keep you innocent or you’ll be in mortal danger. Understand? I’m ready to go, if you are. Take these clothes home. Wash them. Any questions?”
“No sir. I’m ready. May I shake your hand?”
Sean took the bag, then shook POTUS’s hand.
“God’s speed, Sean. Remember tonight’s password. The drive will destruct in one hour.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again.”
“You will. ‘Til then Sean.”
They shook hands again. Sean couldn’t help himself. He saluted his President.
The President saluted him back. The President threw his head toward the cars.
Sean gave the President, a thumbs up.
The President returned the gesture.
Then they both ran back to their cars.
The President returned the car where he’d found it, locked it, returned the key safe to the same spot. He worried about the DNA evidence in the clothes he’d left with Sean. He had to trust them.
Then POTUS ran back the way he came, pondering what to do about his biggest fan Alva, who he could see by her shopping cart was still sleeping on the grate outside the side exit to the Old Smith. If they knew she might be there, they’d take care of it, but next time they contacted him, he’d follow through, get her some help, and pro bono advice with their permission. Maybe, they gave her the same pill they gave Sean.
He retraced his steps in record time, bounding up the flights of stairs to his room. After he approached step six, he checked through the peephole they’d told him about, his room was empty, his bed still lumpy with his disguise.
As he stepped over step six and up to his door, the door above slowly slid open.
The President sighed as he stepped over the threshold into his room. He felt half his age. Mission accomplished, for now.
The hidden door in his bedroom closed, and the President sighed, then removed the plastic evidence envelope.
He stretched, pulled off his soaked clothes as the shower heated up. He rolled his soaked clothes in his towels to absorb the sweat, hung them on hangers to dry out a bit by morning. He’d put them on again and work out, to cover his tracks.
They’d be knocking on the door soon. And there was the knock.
“Sir?”
“Can’t sleep, Sergio. Just showering to relax.”
“Yes sir.”
His agents knew he was often sleepless, so an extra shower was completely within the President’s ordinary routine. He showered under the strongest jet to massage his muscles. He’d pay dearly in the next two days. If he stretched a lot, he hoped not to be too sore.
Refreshed, he got into his pajamas and robe, dried his hair and the running suit, he put the envelope in a book, ready to go see Joseph, opened his door, his agents stepped into attention posture.
“Sorry you can’t sleep, sir. Is there anything we can get you?”
“No, but thanks. The bed on Air Force One is going to feel good. Let’s check on Joseph.”
“Yes sir.”
The President knocked on Joseph’s door. Casey opened the door.
“Mr. President?”
“How’s our hero?” the President slipped quietly into Joseph’s room.
“Sleeping since I last saw you sir. Except he had a nightmare.”
“Really? Maybe too much good fried food.”
“He recited a quotation, making perfect sense, then went right back to sleep.”
“Let me know how he is before I leave for the Summit.”
“Yes sir. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Knowing Joseph, he’ll take care of you. Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you. Pleasant dreams, sir.”
The President
put the book in his robe pocket and left.
Casey wondered about the book.
Later, as the President lay in his bed thinking about the night, glad he hadn’t left the envelope with Joseph. The integrity of the evidence had not been compromised. He’d keep it with him.
His new Blackberry flashed an IM alert.
‘When it’s convenient, hopefully within the week sir, could you please obtain a new hair sample, from your daughters. Treat them to a new hairstyle, then return the new sample to the spot you retrieved the old one. Just let us know the date. We’ll make arrangements. Thx. Dear/M4.’
‘Will do. CP’ He IM’d them back, signing CP for Chicago Pizza, his handle.
The Air Force One bed was definitely going to feel good.
Sean opened his front door. The workout bag fell off his shoulder, as a reminder of his next task. He was glad to be home from the Archives, and the market with his ice cream and snoring strips.
The blue light from the TV flooded the room. Little Sean was asleep in front of the TV tuned to cartoons.
Sean took the wet workout clothes to his stackable washing machine, started it, and shut the laundry room door.
Sean scooped Chocolate for him. Daffy Duck was on.
On cue Little Sean woke up, crawled over to his ice cream, as Sean popped on the i-pod, and took the pink pill as ordered.
Little Sean took a too big bite, and got ‘the headache.’
“You were right. Owie! Good, though. Thank you. You were gone a long time.”
“Naah, it just seems that way. You were asleep a long time.”
They put the cushions and sheets on the couch, the boy sat on the other end. Sean flipped the blanket on him. They ate their ice cream and laughed at Daffy.
Soon Sean was asleep, snoring.
Little Sean placed a strip across Sean’s nose, tipped toed back to his parent’s room, remedied the snoring there, then came back to the quiet room to finish his ice cream and watch Looney Tunes.
Spitting like Daffy, Little Sean said, “Mission accomplished.”
When Sean woke up the next morning, and got his coffee beans out of the freezer, he wondered how the ice cream got there and who had folded the black workout clothes.
CHAPTER NINETEEN — MAMMOTH LAKES, CALIFORNIA
25 KICKAPOO COURT
19 DECEMBER
THE FOUR-MAN METAPHOR TEAM patrolled the Andersen condo at different depths. They reported in to Dear. Feeling secure, two went to their car to wait on first light to warm up.
JUST AFTER FIRST LIGHT, the snow was falling a bit harder.
Mavra and Carlos were driving their prep team and Valentina, her body double “twin” to the Mammoth airport. Mavra yawned. Jet lag and her pain meds were catching up with her. Her only sleep had been on her jets and a bit at the condo of the avalanche patrol guys they’d picked up at the bar and she was sore from having sex with Chris all night. He’d been a lot of fun.
Half of her advance team, and Carlos had picked up Mavra and Valentina at the little 24 hour General Store in town where they’d met up, after the taxi had dropped the girls off from their dates’ condo.
Carlos had large coffees for them.
In her pocket, Mavra’s cell phone text alert chimed.
Carlos reached across her to grab it, looked at the number, and handed it to her.
She put it up to her injured ear too quickly, crying out answered, “What?”
“It’s a text. You that tired?” Carlos frowned at her.
“Been awake for most of the last twenty-four hours and you?”
“This hasn’t been a party for me either.” Carlos rolled his eyes. She was annoying.
‘Miss Kimirov, we have an exact match. She’s a myth. An Anastasia Romanov.’
Mavra texted back, ‘It’s a set up. They could have killed me and they didn’t. We’ll continue on with our mission. I suggest you do the same.’
‘Quite an elaborate set up I’d say, but as you wish.’ Dr. Wise answered.
The most prominent geneticist in the world Dr. Herman Wise, Jr., ended their text.
‘Money changes everything,’ he hummed and laughed.
“And you’re the smart one?” Mavra threw the phone. He always made her feel stupid.
But the reality she may be on a wild goose chase, kept her tense and angry.
THE KILL DAY WAS DAWNING. She was too wired and in pain to sleep. She opened Carlos’s tablet to the Andersen folder to watch last year’s Elise Andersen press interview gif. Mavra watching Elise and her partner, older brother Sam Larsen, claim victory over Kimirov Mining for the benefit of mankind.
“Bitch! Just hours from now it will be my turn to celebrate!”
TOM ANDERSEN’S cell phone rang for the third time in the master bedroom of the Andersen’s Mammoth condo, waking their twenty-year old daughter, Lara.
METAPHOR listened in. Elise Andersen left a message. It went to voice mail.
They’d had a hard day skiing followed by lots of pizza and wine. They were sleeping hard.
“Dad! Your Phone!!” Lara called from her room. “That was Mom.”
“O.K. honey.” Tom said, struggling out of his heavy sleep. In his heavy haze, Tom missed Elise’s texts. He called home instead, stretching out of his fatigue. All he wanted to do was roll over and get more sleep. He was stiff.
Elise Andersen answered, not sounding well.
“Hello?”
“Hi Honey. Sorry. I slept through the call. Lara kicked my butt yesterday. Getting old I guess. Are you feeling any better?”
“Hi Love. I took cold medicine and it knocked me out until right now. But I’m worse I’m afraid. Can’t shake this bug. Do you mind coming home? I think it’s now the flu because, I’ve been barfing all night. I got the chill so I’m expecting a raging fever to follow. Mommy needs a little of Daddy’s TLC.”
“O.K. honey. We can be out of here in a half hour. I’ll stop and get your grape soda and chicken noodle soup, OK? Sorry you had to cancel on the Judge. Anything, else?”
“Maybe Lemon Jello?”
‘Not strawberry banana? That was not her normal request.’ “Lemon, huh? O.K. Glad you’re game to try something new. I’ll grab us some take-out for dinner too, O.K., honey?”
“O.K. Tell Lara I’m sorry.”
“Mom says she’s sorry. She’s pretty sick. High fever. Flu maybe.”
“It’s O.K. Mom! We’re ready to come home, anyway, huh Boogey?”
Boogey barks.
“No worries. She’s had enough of snowboarding. Love you. Be home soon.”
“Love you too. I’m so glad you’re coming home.”
“Me too honey. Me too. Miss you. Love you, my one and only.” Tom hung up.
THE EX-STAND-UP comic who had imitated Elise Andersen’s voice watched Brody the computer geek nod, impressed.
“Brilliant. Much better than last mission,” said Brody, as he texted the message to Mavra. ‘We’re a go.’
Mavra checked her phone, sipping her coffee and smiled, while Carlos drove.
It had begun to snow…
ON THE MAMMOTH TARMAC, Sid was idling. Waiting to take off in the forecasted, zero/zero snow shower. When he’d seen her pilots arrive to pre-flight the jet, that was his signal to pre-flight his own plane.
When he saw her entourage arrive, he slowly pulled onto the taxiway and made his way to the runway. Sid looked back at her Boeing Business Jet through powerful binoculars as Mavra exited her car with four others. The four guys boarded the BBJ. Mavra walked to the jet, talking to her men. Sid pushed the throttle forward, but now Mavra lingered.
Sid was committed, he couldn’t abort. He’d made a mistake. He could feel it. He went around to buzz the airport, but it was hard climbing in the heavy snow…
Valentina was last out of the car. She looked like Mavra’s twin. Both 5’6”, size zero, strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, flawless skin, high cheekbones, Slavic eyes.
Mavra took off her Rolex and gave i
t to Valentina.
“Happy Birthday Valentina. I want you to have this.”
“I can’t, it’s your favorite,” of course Valentina wanted it.
“You’re my favorite, I want you to have it.” Mavra kissed V.
“I’ll cherish it always.” V kissed her back and hugged her hard.
“Pick out our clothes for tonight. Let’s do Vegas right? I’ll wait on Igor. We’ll be right behind you. Did you have a good time with Mango?”
“He’s hot. You wear the Versace so they’ll mention it on the tellie.”
“Great idea! I do love it. See you soon V!”
Sid’s gut sank. His gut never lied. He wasn’t sure it was Mavra boarding the plane, she was talking to someone taking shelter in the car. Something in her walk? The flurries were thicker and blinding, his wipers not keeping up.
He could make out a woman entering the plane, then the door was closed, as the SUV pulled away. Sid turned the plane for Lone Pine and prayed. He should have stayed taking the chance to be grounded.
Mavra got her pilot on her cell, “Simon? I’m staying behind today for some quiet time. I’ve sent Valentina plus four on to Vegas with you. Make sure Valentina gets to her surprise party at 10 p.m. at the Rio. If we can’t make it back tonight, bring the plane for us here in Mammoth tomorrow at nine a.m. weather permitting. Show Valentina a good time will you? She has a crush on you and she’d like an air tour of Lake Powell on your way to Vegas.”
“Roger that. We’ve got to go now or never, ma’am.”
“You’re right. Have a nice flight. Chao.”
SID FLEW SOUTH, flying blind and as low as he dared down Highway 395 South, as the BBJ disappeared over the Long Caldera Valley turning northeast, climbing high to get out of the weather.
MAVRA AND CARLOS drove back to their rented Cherokee Six. The snow was thick now, but Carlos let her pre-flight it, to run up the engines to be warm and ready when their day was done. They got back in the SUV and took off to their destination.
CHAPTER TWENTY — MAMMOTH MOUNTAIN SKI RESORT
EAGLE EXPRESS GONDOLA PARKING LOT
“WHY DOES Pineapple Express snow always suck?’ thought Chris Steiner Wilson, the Mammoth Resort and Eastern Sierra Avalanche Patrol Captain as he watched the potato chip size flakes fall.