“Looks like we’ve got company a half mile back. Orders?” he asked his employer.
“Radio silence,” Josh said as he looked at his watch and began calculating. “It’s 16:00 now. Extraction at 22:00.”
“Roger that,” Evan replied as he slammed the gearshift into ‘Drive’.
The truck lurched forward and tore down the side of the rail bed. He quickly ducked back up another trail and waited to return to the roadway. Josh scurried over to the defilade position in time to see Samantha bringing the .50 down from its firing position.
“Keep that up there,” he ordered. “We have an inbound.”
Josh poked his head in the open driver side window and saw both daughters holding their Glock.
“Stay here,” he commanded and then quietly took his position to the south side of the vehicle.
The vehicle that had been tailing them began to decelerate on the pavement and started heading down the overgrown trail that Evan had just left. It turned the last corner and began heading straight to the rail bed when Samantha pulled the trigger and put a round down range. The plastic grill of the SUV exploded as the vehicle shuddered from the sheer volume of energy impacting it. The round entered the block and tore through pistons and connecting rods. All engine noise ceased as it slowly came to a stop. Hissing sounds and steam began emanating from the hood as Samantha quickly worked the bolt of the .50 to remove the spent cartridge and chamber another round.
Josh emerged and approached the vehicle with his weapon leveled. Evan, upon hearing the blast, jammed his foot on the accelerator and the SUV shot out of the woods back on to the roadway.
“Hands where I can see them, NOW!” Josh commanded.
When there was no compliance from the vehicle Josh yelled, “Send another.”
Samantha put a round through the windshield between the two passengers. With nothing more than a quarter inch piece of glass to slow the massive round’s progress, the round blew out the rear window as it exited the vehicle.
“Hands!” Josh commanded again.
Compliance came all too quickly for Josh’s liking and he said, “Slowly gentlemen. Let me see your hands slowly.”
“Don’t shoot,” came a reply from the vehicle. “We’re unarmed.”
“Exit the vehicle or I’ll be forced to cut you down. Understand?”
“Yes,” came the reply as both doors opened.
The two men exited the vehicle as Josh commanded, “On your knees, hands behind your head. Interlace your fingers and cross your ankles. No sudden movements.”
Josh patted the pair down and declared them both clean. “Sit, crossed legged with your hands still behind their heads.”
The two would-be assailants complied.
“Explain yourselves, gentlemen,” Josh commanded.
“We were just supposed to scare the girls and then follow them where ever they went,” the driver responded.
“Back up?”
“None. We were to call it in when they reached their destination.”
“Why,” Josh wanted to know.
“Mr. Toombs figured you knew more than you let on so he did some digging. He couldn’t find out where you lived, but he learned you had daughters attending OU. He ordered us to find their residence and tail them to you.”
“And your guy in the alley?”
“He put a round over the girl’s heads, but then they returned fire unexpectedly. He exceeded his orders by being drawn into a fire fight.” He paused before adding, “He’s dead.”
In the distance, fast moving tire noise began to build. Josh stepped toward the driver and punched him in the face, drawing blood from the man’s lip.
“Don’t lie to me again. What’s your back up!” Josh growled.
Exhaling loudly, the driver responded, “Two vehicles trailing in case the lead vehicle was spotted.”
“You better pray they stay on the road and don’t turn down here,” he said as he brandished zip ties from his back pocket. “On your stomachs, now” Josh barked at them. “I sure hope you guys are flexible,” Josh said as he proceeded to zip tie each assailants opposite hand and foot together behind their back. He effectively formed an “X” out of their appendages.
“Cover me,” Josh called out as he took off to retake his position in the brush. He watched as the convoy continued to close rapidly on their position. With no audible signs that the vehicles were attempting to decelerate, Josh began to breathe a little easier. The two vehicles passed by in pursuit of Evan’s SUV, which was now well on its way to a rest stop on Route 33.
Josh headed back to the tracks to continue the interrogation. The men were still tied up and lying where he had left them. Neither had tried to move in his absence.
“How were you going to contact Toombs?” Josh asked as he approached.
Straining from the make shift cuffs, the driver replied, “Cell phone. It’s in the car.”
Josh leaned in to the open passenger side door and saw it in the cup holder of the center console.
“What’s the number?” he demanded as the device came to life. The driver provided the information and Josh entered the digits while he spoke. After two rings, the call was answered.
“Where are they?” Toombs growled into the phone.
“Come now, Mr. Toombs. Where are your manners?”
Chapter 12
February 13th, 2022
Jack Swofford walked into Elias’ office at precisely nine o’clock with Deputy Secretary Stockard in tow. The two had been summoned by the head of the USDA personally. The man had somehow managed to track them down at Mary’s apartment. Ever since the pair had been caught consummating their relationship, they didn’t see the point in hiding it from him or anyone else any further. According to his call, Elias had big news and wanted to tell them together.
The couple stood in the doorway and observed. He seemed preoccupied with the phone sitting in its cradle. Elias was just staring at it like he was trying to will it to ring. They looked at each other and shrugged.
Mary gave a quiet rap on the doorframe. Without addressing them, Elias motioned for the two of them to be seated in the chairs directly in front of his desk. After the assassination attempt, the Secretary’s office had been upgraded. The windows had been replaced with ballistic glass and the bullet fragments had been removed from the wall. The room still smelled of sheetrock, plaster dust, and paint from the remodel.
Jack had not seen or heard from Elias since someone had taken a a shot at him. What he did know came second hand from Mary Evans. She had informed him that Elias had been working remotely, under guard by the FBI. This arrangement had persisted for the better part of two weeks when they received his call on Saturday afternoon. He had requested that they meet him in his office on Sunday morning, precisely at 9:00 AM.
The two took their seats and Jack was about to ask what this was all about when Elias put his finger to his lips as a caution against speaking. Jack and Mary Evans stole a glance at one another wondering what in the world is going on when Elias’s phone rang.
Elias pressed the speaker button and spoke, “This is Bo Peep.”
“Good morning, Bo Peep. This is Mother Hubbard and I’ve found your lost sheep,” came the pre-arranged reply.
“Glad to hear it,” Elias responded. “When might I expect the return of my sheep?”
Jack and Mary Evans looked at each other, at the phone, at Elias, back at each other, and both had the same thought. What is going on?
“I can deliver the spring lamb by the equinox, but the Big Bad Wolf is attempting to locate the house to blow it down.”
Elias pushed the mute button and whispered, “It’s a code.”
Mary Evans replied shortly and sarcastically, “Ya think?”
Jack added, “Elias, what the hell is this? Who is Mother Hubbard and what’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?”
“You can’t be too careful. You never know who is listening,” was Elias’ reply. He glanced to his left and
right before he pressed the mute button again to return to the phone conversation.
“What has the Big Bad Wolf done now, Mother Hubbard?”
“He sent three of his cubs to try and discover my cupboard, but that wily wolf just wound up chasing his tail,” came the answer.
“Are my sheep still safe?” Elias asked.
“Affirmative, all of the sheep remain in my custody and under my protection. I’ll be in contact in a fortnight with more details, Mother Hubbard out,” then the line went dead.
Elias pressed the speaker button to turn off the phone.
“What the hell was that?” Jack blurted out.
“That was one of two conversations I’ve had regarding the well-being of my star witness. Neither call lasted more than twenty-five seconds and both were in this nursery rhyme code. I didn’t know what the caller was talking about on the first call until my office received an envelope containing this letter last week.” He then slid the letter across the desk for the two of them to read.
“Your star witness... Samantha? She’s alive?” Mary Evans asked excitedly.
“Yup, and according to that letter, she’s my lost sheep. Seems she’s on the mend after jumping from the plane. We believe it was shot down on the orders of Edward Tomason.”
Mary’s most immediate response was to say, “Add another charge to the indictment.”
“Is there any proof of that?” Jack asked immediately. “And who is Mother Hubbard?”
“Not right now... but we’re optimistic we can track it back to the conglomerate. As for the other question, I don’t know who Mother Hubbard is. He won’t tell. All I know, from the letter and his two phone calls, is that Samantha is alive and Tomason dispatched three teams to locate Mother Hubbard.”
“So this is a code key then?” Mary Evans asked.
“Something like that. Mother Hubbard called me two days after the plane was shot down and told me he would send a ‘codex’ to this office with a date and time for his next call. The letter was all that was in the envelope. Some how he got it here with no postage stamp and no return address,” Elias answered. “That one’s still got me stumped.”
“But they had tried to assassinate you by then. How did he manage to speak with you?” Mary Evans asked trying to piece the timeline together.
“Mara,” Elias said.
“What do you mean?” Jack wanted to know.
“When he called, I was already sequestered by the FBI. She was in the office, she received the call. By God’s grace she managed to figure out that they were looking for me; I was Little Bo Peep and Samantha was my lost sheep. She asked him to call back and told him that ‘Bo Peep had been shot at by hunters’ and she needed time to reach me. I guess he took that as confirmation of the code, the nursery rhymes that is. His phone call to me was like that but I didn’t understand... hence the letter.”
“He mentioned the equinox. The only people that pay attention to that sort of thing are...” Jack said as he struggled to name a suitable example. Giving up, he blurted out, “Wiccans and farmers.”
He got up and began pacing around the office. Jack walked back and forth thinking out loud.
“I’m guessing he’s probably just some farmer that found her in his field after she jumped, but where did she jump? If we knew that, we might be able to determine their general location.”
“The hell we will, Jack,” Elias said snapping the man back to reality and the conversation. “Whoever this guy is he knows what he’s doing. He’ll get her to the church on time,” Elias noted in a tone that left no room for misunderstanding on Jack’s part.
“Assuming he is using the traditional definition of fortnight, we should expect Mother Hubbard’s next call in two weeks then,” Mary Evans added.
“Is there another?” Jack asked.
“A fortnight is usually two weeks, but in astronomy, no, to a farmer, it refers to phases of the moon.” Mary Evans shrugged and said, “Don’t ask me why I know that, I just do.”
Jack looked at her bewildered, but Elias needed specifics.
“So he could call at two possible times?” he asked.
“Yeah, he could call two weeks from today or he could call back when the moon is halfway between the full moon and the new moon. Both are roughly two weeks, but we need to know when the last full moon was just in case,” she replied.
Jack reached in his pocket and produced his smart phone. He quickly accessed the Internet app, performed a search, and selected the first returned result.
“Says here that there was one on January eighteenth, that won’t work,” he surmised. “The next is February sixteenth. That’s in three days. Two weeks from that would be...” he said as he closed the browser and opened his calendar app. “A fortnight from that date would be March second. So he could call back on the twenty seventh or the second,” Jack said, clearly very proud of his technological prowess.
“But when?” asked Mary Evans.
“Oh,” Elias said, as if remembering an important fact. “That’s in the letter,” he said as he picked it up and read aloud. “All calls to take place at 09:00 or 21:00.”
“He’s using a twenty-four hour clock and WWII themed codenames,” Jack surmised.
“And he said “affirmative’, ‘in my custody’, and ‘under my protection’. Those are very specific terms used in only a handful of occupations,” his girlfriend added.
“I’d guess he’s former military. Maybe an officer or NCO given his demeanor. Definitely someone who’s been in charge,” Jack said, picking up on her comment.
“He probably just wanted to retire to a life of peace and quiet on the farm,” she surmised.
“Until Samantha fell out of the sky... literally,” Jack finished.
“Awww, you two are already finishing each other’s thoughts. When’s the wedding?” Elias said jokingly, in his Texas drawl.
Jack and Mary Evans smiled at each other before Mary Evans began to feel herself blush and turn away.
“Oh gawd,” Elias said. “Depending on where they are, he might just be in an underground militia, who knows,” Elias said as he threw up his hands and provided an equally plausible alternative. He then pulled a piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk and said, “Based on the transponder pings to the various FAA towers, the NTSB was able to construct this flight path from Montana to the crash site in southeastern Ohio.”
As he pointed at the near straight line, he continued by saying, “Unfortunately, it doesn’t give us altitudes or speeds so they could have reduced both and she could have jumped anywhere along that route,”
“So it’s the proverbial needle in a haystack then,” Mary Evans concluded. “What do you want us to do in the meantime, Elias?”
“Business as usual. Keep working as if the report is going to be published. We need to continue to prepare for the Congressional hearings. That document needs to be in their hands and the sessions wrapped up before the farmer’s plant the spring crops. Plan to meet back here on those two dates at those four times until he calls.”
* * *
It had been over a month since Gregg had viewed Suhrab’s video. Just as Suhrab had planned, his prisoner had become more compliant. The Army man still had some resilience in him though. Gregg was extremely cagey when asked about certain topics. Particularly subjects dealing with computer systems, wiring diagrams, and launch protocols.
For Gregg, the show of greater compliance was merely to relax his captors in order to attempt an escape. Unfortunately, Gregg’s worst fears had been realized with yet another miscarriage by Emily. The pain and guilt he felt for having been out of the country every time her body rejected the pregnancy was eating away at his very being. His devotion to her, however, wouldn’t allow him to quit. He needed to continue to resist Suhrab and his goon squad.
Through all of the emotions associated with losing another baby, Gregg had remained mentally vigilant. He had determined that Suhrab’s outfit was well organized, strategically placed
, and financially secure. The fact that the video Gregg had viewed contained synced audio only served as confirmation to his assumptions.
Even though he had closed his eyes by this point, he couldn’t shut out the sound. Gregg was clearly able to hear his commanding officer tell his widow who Gregg truly was. To his horror, he also heard the doctor’s explanation of the hysterectomy procedure. Not only did Suhrab’s outfit have someone tailing her on her walks snapping photographs, but they apparently had been successful in placing listening devices in their residence and in her hospital room.
Given this information, Gregg feigned compliance, if only to keep Emily alive. Suhrab presumed he was faking and expected it. There would be no relaxing of the prisoner protocols. Gregg was to remain bound at all times and only receive liquefied nourishment.
The undeniable characteristic that Gregg observed was that whatever terrorist network Suhrab belonged to, it was extremely dangerous and highly motivated. These were the types of guys that drove planes into buildings.
Suhrab had been guiding his questions toward missile launch override procedures, but Gregg had yet to discover why. When Gregg had asked about the man who used to scream for hours on end in the cell next door, he was told that he had been ‘placed accordingly’. Gregg had assumed that it was some Farsi to English translation disconnect in Suhrab’s head. Gregg asked him to repeat the statement again, this time in Farsi. His captor reiterated the same in his native tongue.
As Mahtab and Taj wheeled him on his gurney into a larger brightly lit cavern, Gregg could barely contain his sheer joy and delight. Suhrab’s men had taken him into room that resembled a workshop. Aban, Gregg could see, was nearby. Always within striking distance in case the order came from Suhrab for Gregg to be beaten.
As he rotated his head left and right, he was able to see numerous tables with several cylinders in various states of completion or disassembly. One cylinder in particular caught his eye. It’s starting to make sense. These idiots think they are going to hot wire a missile. But to do what?
When Rome Stumbles Page 15