Fugitive Spy

by Jordyn Redwood

  “No, with two others. That’s what took me so long to get to you. I had to take care of them first.”

  “‘Take care’ as in keep them from following us or ‘take care’ as in they are no longer alive?”

  Casper smoothed his fingers over his mouth. “No one’s dead, although that would make our lives a lot easier.”

  Ashley settled forward. She’d asked Casper to get her a soda and some snacks from the gas station and they sat next to her in the cup holder. She grabbed the soda, drank and then reached for the package of peanut butter crackers. “Jared gave my father a lot of money and now he’s mad because my father has changed his mind about something. He feels betrayed. He said my father found his moral compass again.”

  Casper drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “When the Soviet Union collapsed, many of those scientists were offered obscene amounts of money for their expertise. Your father’s knowledge base would be just as valuable.”

  Is that what happened around the time of my surgery that fixed everything? My father accepted money from Jared to get us out of debt? What did he have to do for the money? Create a bioweapon?

  Casper’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. “I can’t tell you how invested the Russians were in making these weapons. When these men realized, right or wrong, the money they could be paid for sharing their knowledge, they became highly sought out by every foreign government bent on destruction.”

  “So the ones who were willing to share—”

  “Share is too nice a word. Sell is more accurate.”

  “They quickly found work. And the others?”

  “If they didn’t comply and were captured, then they likely faced death.”

  Suddenly, the crackers Ashley had been snacking on didn’t taste so good anymore. She set them aside.

  “I’m not saying that’s what happened to your father,” Casper said quickly. “We don’t know.”

  “My family was facing a financial crisis around the time of my heart surgery. Then...everything seemed better. This money my father took—what do you think he had to do in exchange?”

  “If Jared has gone rogue and is paying agents on the side for work—then I’m afraid it probably isn’t anything good.”

  “Do you think my father is still alive?”

  Casper rested a hand on her arm and an overwhelming stillness filled the car. His touch was comforting, but was that all it meant? For the first time, she felt like she could trust a man to protect her. He’d already done so much to save her life, but something was shifting in her mind. Ashley was beginning to feel like she didn’t want there to be a time when they weren’t together. This sense of trust she had in him she’d never experienced before. All her other relationships had been based on superficial physical attraction at best.

  This trust...was deep, binding the two of them together. Was he beginning to feel this way, too? Is that what this touch meant? Or was it just a comforting gesture?

  “I think we operate on what we know and we don’t have any confirmation that he’s dead. In fact, we have more evidence that he’s alive...somewhere. The packages for one. If your father hasn’t been sending them, then who?”

  His words rang true. Maybe there would be an end to this awful nightmare. She fingered her necklace and worried it between her fingers.

  The car swerved wildly to the right. “Where did you get that? That necklace? I didn’t see you wearing it before.”

  “It was a gift from my father. It’s usually in a case with the packages. All this talk about my father and our relationship—I just wanted to wear it today.”

  “Take it off,” Casper ordered.

  She clutched the charm in her fist. “No, it’s one of the few things I have from him.”

  “It’s got to be how they’re tracking us.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  Casper pulled his hand away from her and clutched the wheel with both hands, his fingers taut under the pressure. He was angry with her.

  “It’s not nonsense. Tracking chips can be very small. If Jared has discovered the signal, he can follow it. Maybe your father gave it to you so he could keep tabs on you, maybe in case they took you, but now Jared knows it and he’s using it against us. You have to get rid of it.”

  She turned away from him. What he asked was too much. Ashley was sentimental about only a few things and this was one of them. She bit her lip to stave off more tears. Could he be right?

  “I think something inside the jewelry case keeps it from being read. Probably has some kind of lining in it to keep it from transmitting when it’s inside.”

  “Then what about the cabin? Why did it explode? How did they find us there? I wasn’t wearing the necklace then.”

  “The computer must have been rigged somehow. They probably knew about the cabin and booby-trapped it, hoping to kill Russell in the process. The problem for Jared is the men working with him are probably few in number...they can’t be everywhere. It’s not an army we’re against, just a few people. So they’ll have to use some of these techniques to try to find us because, though it might seem like they are, they can’t be everywhere at once.”

  She looked out the passenger window. Gray clouds gathered, mirroring the feeling of oppression that was beginning to overwhelm her. This necklace, to Casper, was just a thing that was aiding their enemy. To Ashley, it was one of the few items connected to a moment of real kinship with her father. It had been his gift to her on the day of her medical school graduation. One of the things he’d actually been present for.

  “Ashley, please...”

  She reached to the back of her neck with numb fingers and released the clasp. Before she could change her mind, she powered down her window and let it fall from her fingers.

  TEN

  This was the one place Casper remembered Russell telling him to go to—if trust was an issue. Those were the words that he’d added. He’d remembered the key code and they were able to get inside. The day had been a long one, and after Casper medically checked Ashley to ensure her lung was behaving itself, he tucked her into a bedroom with a dose of Tylenol and insisted she sleep.

  Here they should be safe. They would be able to get the thumb drive into a computer without it tripping a baited trap. Ashley had been sullen most of the day...their conversation only at the barest minimum after she tossed the necklace out the window. Seemingly, getting rid of the jewelry had done the trick. They hadn’t been followed. Daringly, they’d even stopped at a mom-and-pop sub shop for food and waited, almost tempting their captors to find them, and not a single person had entered the fast-food dive as they ate.

  In the living room was a fireplace—this one easy to light. With the flick of a switch it was on. Casper sat on the couch, warm bottled water next to him. Ashley had refused to eat anything for dinner, which gnawed at his gut. However, he didn’t feel like he could push her anymore. She was at her limit. She needed rest. A clear mind. They were still being hunted with no end to their predicament in sight.

  Guilt washed over him. He’d wanted to tell Ashley something, but he couldn’t bring the words from his lips. Saying them out loud, especially to someone else, would mean they could never be taken away. It would solidify them, and for most of the day he’d wrestled with whether or not what he’d remembered was actually true.

  A small container of microwave mac and cheese sat next to the water untouched. He forced a bite into his mouth. One of them had to keep their strength up. Sad to say, but he was in better shape than Ashley, even as broken as he felt.

  Because he remembered Ethan dying.

  What was at stake now was more than just keeping the two of them alive. They’d had intelligence about a probable bioweapons attack. That was what he and Ethan had been trying to prevent and likely what Jared Fleming was trying to perpetuate.

  Massive death.

&nbs
p; But why? What would cause a patriot to turn against his own country? To unleash a deadly bioweapons attack against his own people? Casper knew he had to determine the answer to that question. If he could understand his enemy—his motivations—maybe deciphering the pieces that Ashley and he held would be the only thing to stop the coming wave.

  Did Ethan’s family know he was gone? Casper felt like it was his duty to tell them. What had happened to his body? He remembered their brutal assault getting interrupted by the burly man walking the dog. The zipping pain through his chest that had brought him back to life. His memory was clear, but there was still so much unknown.

  He had to solve this. Had to make sure Ethan was remembered as a hero. That was the least he could do.

  As he was forcing down bites of mac and cheese, Ashley emerged from the bedroom, a hand resting at her old chest tube site. He checked his watch. Maybe three hours had passed since he’d insisted she lie down. She smoothed her fingers through the tangles in her hair and sat next to him on the couch.

  He lifted the empty cup. “Want me to whip you up some of this fabulous cuisine?”

  “Later.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It felt natural, despite the circumstances, the two of them sitting there. It was that comfortable quiet, where neither one felt forced to say anything.

  “Why haven’t you tried to sleep?” Ashley asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff.”

  “More memories?” Ashley asked.

  “All of them.” She stiffened slightly, and then relaxed. He waited for her questions, mildly surprised when she didn’t press the point. “No interrogation?”

  “I trust you to tell me what you think is important.”

  That seemed too easy. Did she trust him to that extent? “There’s no burning question on your mind?”

  “For the moment, I just want this. To feel calm...peaceful.”

  She wedged herself more into his side. “There’s something funny about this safe house.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s not an—how do I say this?—American safe house.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Russian?”

  “No, that would just be going into the other enemy camp. Ukrainian.”

  “I guess I never thought about other countries having safe houses here.”

  “Your father said to come here if I was ever lost and didn’t know who to trust. Maybe he bought it from them. Maybe they lack the resources to keep it up.”

  “Makes me feel like an international fugitive,” Ashley said. “There’s a computer in the corner,” Ashley noted.

  “I see it,” Casper said. “While you were resting, I did a pretty thorough search of the grounds and inside. I didn’t see anything suspicious—no bombs waiting to explode. I get the sense someone has been here, though—in the last week or so. The items in the refrigerator aren’t expired. There’s fresh fruit in there.”

  “You trust this place enough to eat it?”

  “The mac and cheese didn’t kill me. It doesn’t seem like anyone is living here. There are no clothes. The beds are made. The bathrooms look hotel ready. Almost like someone might have expected us to come here.”

  “Not an enemy?”

  “Doubtful. It would make sense your father would develop a network of people he could trust outside the CIA. If you want to spoil a terrorist’s plan, you have to have a network just like they do—a support network for undercover investigators.”

  “Is that what we are? The only hope to stop whatever this is?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to—”

  “Let me guess...operate on facts.”

  “Exactly.”

  Casper pulled the thumb drive out of his pocket. He’d been holding on to it since Ashley got sick. He wanted to ask her about how she was feeling, but every time he had in the past twelve hours she’d given him an exacerbated look. There was a lot one could discern about a person’s breathing without placing a stethoscope to their chests. Her breathing was relaxed, rhythmic. She could speak in full sentences without clipping her words between breaths.

  Lord, thank You for giving me what I needed to save her life. Thank You for keeping us safe. Help us figure out what our next step is.

  “Guess there’s no time like the present to see what’s on it,” Casper said.

  He opened his palm and she took the thumb drive from his hand.

  * * *

  There was more than one reason why Ashley wanted to see what was on the drive. Sitting so close to Casper had become a little unnerving. Her palms were still sweating and all she needed was him to try to check her pulse again and discover the emotions behind her nerves.

  Never could she say that she’d fallen for a man before. Plenty of infatuations, but this felt different. Like Casper was stepping into a gap of unfulfilled need she’d had for a long time. Of companionship. Of trust. She couldn’t deny her father’s long absences over the years likely played into this and she didn’t feel permanently scarred, but neither could she discount the impact it had had.

  Ashley pressed the button to turn on the computer and waited for it to warm up. Casper pulled out the desk chair and motioned for her to sit down. The computer screen popped up. No skull of death laughing at them and dripping blood. She pushed the thumb drive in and held her breath. The machine whirred softly. Casper lowered his body so he could see the screen better, but the physical closeness caused her chest to vibrate. Could he sense that?

  The computer signaled the drive had been installed. Ashley opened it and began to look through the files.

  “Recognize any of these names?” Ashley asked.

  Casper shook his head. “Might as well start opening them from the top.”

  Ashley clicked open the first file folder and noticed a series of pictures. She clicked on the first one, which opened the photo viewer, and she began to click through the series. There were more photos of her dad, some with Jared, some with the Russian scientist and US security intelligence.

  She clicked through them quickly—stopping at one with her mother and Jared. They sat at a table and her mother looked...lovingly at Jared’s face. That was the only way Ashley could describe it. Did that look mean anything? Whatever it was, Jared seemed oblivious. Perhaps it was nothing.

  “Go to the next one. I don’t know if any of those photos have new information for us. Those seem to be where he copied the pictures that he sent you in the packages.”

  She closed the photos and clicked on the next file down. What opened were scans of two small-town Colorado newspaper articles. One was dated last year. The other about six months ago.

  “‘Local Community Fears Smallpox Outbreak,’” Casper read out loud.

  “I thought smallpox was considered eradicated,” Ashley said.

  “The last natural case was in 1977.”

  “Natural being the operative word,” Ashley verified.

  “Exactly.”

  Ashley scrolled through the contents. “This town isn’t too far from where we’re at. Maybe a three-hour drive.”

  Casper leaned in closer, his breath puffing against her neck.

  “Maybe you should grab a chair,” Ashley suggested.

  Ashley pulled off the jacket she was wearing. How could she be physically attracted to a man right now, considering the state both of them were in? Casper wasn’t thrilled with her taking a prolonged soak in a bathtub until the stitches in her side were out, but a long hot shower seemed in order. As he stepped away, she sniffed her shirt. It smelled. Not like smoke from the explosive cabin fire. Like the musty cabin had tainted it. Was the heat she felt a temperature or evidence of her attraction to Casper?

  Ashley shifted her chair over to make room for him. Having him sit down next to her instead of hovering didn’t abate he
r symptoms.

  She grabbed his hand and placed the back of it against her forehead. “Does it feel like I have a fever?”

  “You know this is the worst way to measure. It’s not scientifically accurate.”

  “You didn’t feel that way before. I don’t agree with you and neither does every mother in America. Do I feel warm?”

  He reached his hand up again and lightly touched her forehead, then her cheeks. “You feel fine. No fever.”

  His touch unnerved her. This was bordering on ridiculous. They were on the run...for their lives. How could she even be thinking about this?

  Casper pointed to the screen. “This other town is relatively close, as well. They’re perhaps a couple of hours apart.”

  Ashley read out loud. “‘Local health officials are concerned about a group of patients that presented recently to a local community hospital with symptoms resembling smallpox. “It’s not clear what illness they have,” one anonymous source explained. “The medical picture is complicated. We believe more than one disease might be at play. Whatever it is, it’s highly contagious.” Four health-care workers who took care of the sickened patients also contracted the disease—as well as several townspeople. Local officials are working to contain the illness. It is unknown how the patients originally contracted the disease. If you have a fever accompanied by a rash, stay home and contact health officials at the following number.’” Ashley slumped back in her chair. “Did you ever hear about this?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised this didn’t make headlines countrywide. There have been lots of outbreaks that haven’t been covered by the national media. Notice how they didn’t say the word Ebola? How they were trying to quarantine possible cases without calling it just that? It would have caused mass panic. Plus, if this is covert—it’s not surprising more local media didn’t catch wind of it.”

  Ashley swallowed hard. “Whatever this mysterious disease is, it struck in two instances, six months apart. It could be something naturally occurring, but I’m doubtful. It if exhibits the symptomology of two separate disease processes my guess is that it was engineered.”