The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  “What are you going to do?” He put on sunglasses.

  “Watch her reactions, what she does and where she goes. If they head to the parking lot, I’ll ID their car. First, I need to know if that’s her, or if I’m being overly paranoid. If you don’t see me after she leaves, I’ll be nearby...be patient.”

  A moment later, Pete casually walked over to a small table with two chairs, opposite the large lobby. His video camera was placed on the table with the LED screen angled, while he pretended to peruse an area tour book. His finger pressed the zoom button.

  The woman was showing a photograph separately to each of the desk personnel. The clerk was looking up something in the computer and spoke to the woman. With a nod, money was exchanged for a card. The redhead turned and was in full screen.

  Pete grimaced.

  From Anna’s vantage point, she knew the hunters had arrived the instant the redhead turned. Using nicknames she had given them in Vegas, she thought, Natasha. How the hell did you find me, and where’s Boris?

  Anna looked at the front door, and then recalled the hotel evacuation schematic in the room. I need to get to our SUV.

  She quickly strode past the hotel’s conference rooms, slipped out the back and skirted the parking lot. Approaching the SUV from the sidewalk she slipped inside, dialed the window tinting to the darkest setting, then got out the small go-bag from behind the driver’s seat. Unzipping it, she put on the black wig for immediate camouflage. She next put on Pete’s black leather jacket and shortened the arms by folding back the wrist bands. From the bag came a small satchel containing composite and metal parts with which she assembled her Walther. She screwed on the noise suppressor, inserted a magazine with subsonic 9mm rounds, and chambered the first. The pistol was tucked inside a specially-formed pocket while the switchblade went into her boot.

  Because Pete’s jacket was so much bigger than her own, a police taser, stolen from Starr’s cache, easily fit into the right pocket. Tugging the leather, she felt the jacket was still too loose in the middle. After a moment’s consideration, she took a small traveling pillow from the car and slipped it underneath the jacket, now appearing seven-months pregnant.

  Opening the cosmetic case, she over-applied rouge, darkened her eyebrows, and put on large, very dark sunglasses. Onto her teeth went the cosmetic overlays revealing an overbite and a smoker’s yellowed stains, which were framed by ruby red lipstick.

  Finally she took out two encrypted tactical radios with wireless ear buds, also compliments of Starr, closed the car and walked straight into the lobby past a fidgeting Pete.

  Pete took a double-take as Anna passed him heading towards the stairs.

  A minute later, he rose and casually walked the same direction.

  “Wow, you’ve really let yourself go,” he said as they ascended.

  “Can it!” Her voice was stern. “Where’d she go?” She handed Pete a radio and ear bud.

  “Into the restaurant.” He inserted the bud while briskly following.

  “We’ve got to get our stuff and get out of here!” She was taking two steps at a time, requiring his prosthesis to swing more than usual to keep up with her, giving him an uneven gait.

  On the fourth floor, she peeked into the corridor. While passing a maid’s cart Anna grabbed two spray bottles of cleaner, towels, and a set of linen. “First we need to sanitize the room.”

  They spent two hours packing and wiping the room for fingerprints. They balled up all the towels, sheets, and pillow cases. They made the bed with the purloined linen and put fresh towels in the bathroom. Anna quietly dumped the used linens into the laundry cart down the hall. The maid’s vacuum cleaner had just been rolled out into the hallway, so Anna unzipped the filter bag and, with a gloved hand and disposable coffee cup she scooped up collected dust. Just before they closed the hotel room door, she sprinkled the dust from a couple hundred rooms across the floors.

  She smirked. “Think anyone can separate DNA from this hodgepodge?”

  “You do make things tough. Now I’m glad you’ve changed plates and IDs. The caution paid off.”

  “Only partly.... Something went wrong.”

  Wheeling the suitcases out the back, they approached the large parking lot from the side.

  “Know which car is theirs?” Pete asked.

  “No, but I’ve got an idea. Monitor from our car, and I’ll surveil from behind this corner. And by the way...I’m carrying.”

  He looked at the extended belly but resisted making a joke. “The silenced pistol?” he grimaced. “Do you bring that thing everywhere?”

  “Most places. Why? Upset or nervous?”

  Pete considered the situation. “Irritated a bit, maybe relieved—”

  “I think you’re jealous. Want one?” Her lips turned up.

  “Try not to use it in Canada, and particularly here with so few roads out.... What else do you have?”

  “The blade’s in my boot.”

  “You’re scary sometimes. I’ve just got my VersaTool.”

  She passed him a taser, which he pocketed. “Feel better?”

  “A bit.”

  “Ever use one?”

  “Once in Iraq.” His eyes narrowed at the bare metal where there had once been a serial number.

  “It’s an X26P with a ten meter range. You get three shots. But...get closer, and don’t hit leather, it won’t penetrate.”

  He was about to kiss her, then scrunched his nose as he evaluated the heavy makeup and instead kissed the top of her forehead.

  Wheeling the suitcases to the car, he tossed them in back and got inside. He touched the earpiece. “I’m going to move the car to just outside the parking lot. Watch if anyone shows interest.”

  “Good idea.”

  As the SUV left the parking lot, Anna detected movement in a black Explorer. She repositioned to a better view and zoomed in with the video camera. The driver was looking at a piece of paper.

  “I found Boris.”

  “Who?”

  “The Russian guy. Looks like he has a note, probably with one of our other license plates.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s not responding.” She bypassed the parking lot in favor of a more distant sidewalk. “Meet me just past the corner where the trail meets the road.... It’s two blocks east.”

  “I see the path.” He parked on the side of the road to cover her retreat. His mouth relaxed when the very pregnant woman in a black leather jacket waddled into view through the forested path. When she cleared the corner he pulled up next to her. She climbed in and they headed towards the Trans Canadian Highway.

  “So, his information’s from the border?” Pete asked.

  “The border cameras were likely connected to a facial recognition database and picked up my features. I thought I masked mine pretty good...guess I was wrong. Someone likely connected a fake name and the plates.

  “Switching plates outside Calgary probably broke the connection.”

  “You’re right.” Her voice was slightly strained. “Maybe coming to Canada wasn’t such a good idea. I should have been more careful. By the way, Boris’ plates are from Alberta. So they must have flown in when I tripped a sensor.”

  “How do you think they figured we‘d be here?”

  “Well, considering the border starting point, they’d have assumed we’d drive east or west across Canada. The Trans-Can is the only reasonable road in either direction. And if they suspected I had high-end tastes, the Chateau’s a good guess.... I’m really sorry Pete,” she said sadly.

  “For what?”

  She looked down. “For ruining our honeymoon.”

  His finger lifted her chin. “Hey, we originally planned on staying at the Chateau only two nights. Honey, just consider it putting us back on schedule.”

  She squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek for his understanding. “Thank you...for being you – the most conscientious man I’ve ever known. Oh, and when you get the chance, find a dirt road and dri
ve on it for a few klicks. The Expedition’s too clean. Having muddy license plates should help.”

  Leaving Banff, Pete grimaced at a gas station sign showing the current price. In just the past couple days it had gone up 30 cents, and even then, a long queue had formed. His smile returned at seeing a mostly black Australian shepherd availing itself of a gas station’s Fuzz-covered lawn. Beyond, its tall owner was paying the attendant.

  Meanwhile, Anna was restoring her normal appearance while keeping the leather jacket and weapons in place.

  After she settled down, Pete joked, “You know, Babe, you looked pretty good seven-months pregnant.”

  Chapter 49

  August 31, 0800 hours

  Revelstoke, BC

  They pondered their next move over coffee and the alpine special breakfast. A sunbeam, just clearing the mountains and passing through the coffee shop window, illuminated Anna’s golden hair and tired eyes. Neither had slept well in the small Revelstoke motel. Periodic highway noise and the midnight thrumming of a passing turboprop echoing through the deep valley had made them both jumpy.

  Her attention was on the highway’s passing vehicles, thankful Pete had parked and covered the vehicle on a dead-end lane a block away.

  Sitting across from each other at the neighboring coffee shop, Pete folded a map and leaned forward. His large hand settled onto her drumming fingers. “There’s no sense ending the honeymoon. How about visiting one of my favorite spots near here?”

  Darkened eyes shifted to him. Her whisper was tense. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Why not let them chase a ghost?” His brow lifted.

  Her eyes darted to the highway and back to Pete. With tongue in cheek she responded, “True. It’s not logical to delay an escape.” Her mouth widened. “Okay, where’d you have in mind?”

  His hand squeezed hers. “It’s a place the Russians wouldn’t consider, and will give you a break from worry.”

  “And that is?” Her eyes were hopeful.

  “Mount Revelstoke. Make sure your camera battery’s charged. Oh, and put on insect repellent. The flies up there bite hard. They’re the pollinators and think everything’s a flower.”

  She grinned.

  Anna’s improved mood reflected the beauty she just entered. The road to the top of an alpine mountain is a rarity. Wildflowers carpeted the meadows, and the blooms spilling onto the graveled paths were more numerous than those at Glacier National Park. Rocky outcroppings were punctuated by craggy peaks in the distance, making this an irresistible attraction for photographers. Anna was no exception.

  While Anna satisfied her artistic pursuits, Pete analyzed the traces of Fuzz on tree branches and on the ground, measuring the tendril lengths and density of infestation, and looking for signs of predation. Whenever Anna neared, he pretended to ignore the invader’s presence.

  “Pete, you were right about the flies. They’re maddening!”

  Mt. Revelstoke’s flowers and mountaintop vistas gave them a temporary respite. But after a few hours, they resumed their journey.

  That evening found them in a small outdoor café outside Vancouver, British Columbia.

  “Where now, Pete?”

  “To get to the Olympic Peninsula tomorrow morning we can drive south via Seattle or take the ferry to Victoria and catch the Washington State ferry.”

  “Which is safer?”

  “I choose the ferry. Probably more so than the land border crossings. If Boris and Natasha are tracking us back to the US, there’s less chance they’ll think we’re going via Vancouver Island.”

  “Okay,” Anna agreed. “But we’re going in disguise. The terminals have webcams on both ends.”

  She held up her iPad. “The images are grainy, more meant to show traffic levels than as surveillance, but they do reveal vehicle type.”

  “Well, thankfully, our vehicle’s dirtier than sin. I wouldn’t even recognize it.

  “Regardless, I’m changing the decals and plates again.”

  Chapter 50

  September 1, 0600 hours

  Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal, BC

  A light fog shrouded the ferry terminal. Their SUV, outfitted with dirty Kansas plates, sat parked near the front of one of several lanes of cars. Bound for Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island, they waited for the 7 AM ‘Spirit of British Columbia’ departure. Being early gave them the advantage of loading among the first of more than 400 vehicles into the two-level car deck.

  With video camera in hand, Pete was first to board the ship as a walk-on. He touched the radio ear fob. “I’m watching the passengers from the stern.”

  After parking inside, Anna radioed, “I’m positioned to surveil the remaining cars.”

  “Stay hidden and use that tourist map with the hole in it,” Pete instructed.

  “And you remember, there may be more than two.”

  “I’ll record anyone suspicious, particularly those more interested in who’s coming on board than watching the scenery.”

  “Like us?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, like us.”

  A horn blasted twenty minutes later. The 167-meter super ferry shook from the cavitating propellers as it pulled away from the dock.

  Pete and Anna rejoined at the boat’s cafeteria.

  “I think we’re safe,” Pete said confidently.

  “I never think we’re safe.... I always plan for contingencies. Now that we’re married, you should, too.”

  “Who’s the pessimist now?”

  “I’m an optimist, Honey. Otherwise we wouldn’t be in Canada. I’m optimistic that we’ll evade their clutches – that we’re prepared, and they don’t know it. But I also know that situations can turn on a dime.” She leaned across the table and kissed his bristly cheek, leaving red lip marks. She wiped his cheek with a napkin.

  Sitting in the corner of the lounge, they drank coffee and chatted about what – if anything – they wanted to do in Victoria.

  The horn blasted half an hour later.

  Her brow lifted. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re entering Active Pass.” He looked up from his guidebook and pointed through the starboard window. “It’s a tight gap between the Southern Gulf Islands of Mayne and Galiano. There’s a sharp, blind turn around a rock promontory and—”

  She nodded. “It’s warning ships and boats coming from the other direction. Got it.”

  The islands were now visible through both sets of windows. Pete’s head swiveled left then right. “The bluffs to port are so close, I almost believe I could throw a football to each shoreline.... I know I could hit Galiano.

  As the ferry sharply swung to port, the propellers cavitated, vibrating their coffee cups.

  “Let’s go on deck!” She took his hand.

  As they reached the forward deck, the ferry was finishing a ninety degree turn to starboard.

  Bald eagles soared above the forested, rocky cliffs, and an orca pod paralleled the boulder-strewn shoreline. Anna deeply inhaled the cool air. “This is so beautiful!”

  “A bit like paradise. Welcome to the Pacific Northwest.” His arm wrapped tighter around her. Looking down at the water caused him to frown at a trail of light green phytoplankton flowing in the current.

  “Pete?”—she interrupted his thoughts—“Is this Sven’s phytoplankton?” Her smile also had vanished.

  “I believe so.”

  “I thought most phytoplankton were dark green. Why’s his creation almost luminescent?”

  “Probably to allow them to grow more densely without obstructing critical light. That way it spreads faster and crowds out competing species.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen it.... It’s pretty.” She faced him with mischievous eyes. “Pretty things can be dangerous.”

  “Don’t I know it!” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You were fishing.”

  “Maybe.” She turned back to face the passing cliffs and the ship’s wake casting light green water onto the rocky coast. Her mood darkened.


  They continued past other rocky, tree-covered islands. Wisps of Fuzz clung to every branch. As the ferry approached the Swartz Bay Terminal, an announcement instructed drivers to return to their vehicles.

  The couple joined the stream of drivers heading to the car deck. Anna cautiously approached their dirty SUV. She first walked around it to inspect a change in the dirt pattern that might indicate intrusion. Next she pretended to drop something and knelt down. While on her knees she looked under the car with a small LED flashlight.

  “What are you doing, Babe?” Pete asked.

  “Just being careful. The car has been unattended for a while. I’ve done this every morning wherever we’ve been. You never noticed?”

  “Sorry, no. I missed that ritual.”

  “P-e-t-e?” came her cautionary voice from under the bumper. “Act casual. I’ve got something.” She held out a small black rectangular box the size of a match book. A wire dangled from it.

  “What is it?” His teeth clenched.

  “GPS transponder...and it’s clean. No road dirt. Very advanced stuff”—her voice was edgy—“and it’s Russian.”

  He let out a deep breath. “So, they’re on the ferry.” His eyes shifted, looking for the culprits. He frowned when she put it in a pocket. “Aren’t you going to get rid of it?”

  “Not yet. We need to catch one of these guys.” She went back to looking under the car and failed to see his doubtful expression. She rose a couple minutes later, “Okay, that’s the only one.”

  “The ferry door’s opening. We need to leave.”

  With the clanking of metal against metal, they drove down the ferry ramp and onto the main road.

  “Take us somewhere remote.”

  “W-h-y?”

  “Where better to capture someone?” It was rhetorical. Anna pulled out the laptop computer. “I’m bringing up Google Earth.”

  Pete remained quiet while driving the Pat Bay Highway toward Victoria.

  Eventually, Anna declared, “Okay, we can take them to a remote spot northwest of Victoria.”