by Ronda Pauley
Although Abbi didn’t repeat the conversation about being zinged, she did repeat other things that her father had said as she had been instructed to do at headquarters. She felt like a spy each time she repeated his words. He didn’t seem to mind and probably understood the process. He was much too weak, his voice too quiet to be picked up well.
“It has been a very good interview. Thank you, Mr. Schumann!”
A nurse poked her head inside.
“Time, Miss Kowalski,” the nurse said and then closed the door again.
Abbi and her father embraced and kissed each other. Her father kissed her on both cheeks and her forehead, and when he held her hands, she knew he did not want to let go.
Then he whispered slowly for her ears only, “As a person who’s been near death, I look at life, at our fleeting mortality, differently now. I’ll tell you something this one time, since I may never have the chance again, so remember: Do what you love in this life and love the people in your life with all your soul. Making it a better world can be as simple as loving your family and friends. Plant some flowers. Be happy. Life is too short to be otherwise.”
“I love you, Daddy, and I will. I promise,” Abbi wrote. Then she added, “I’m so proud of you. Get better fast. No ZINGING!”
When Abbi left her father’s room, she knew beyond a doubt that he had been a hero. It wouldn’t be publicized. It couldn’t be. Covert missions remained classified for years.
She also knew she messed up. Staying in character had been impossible. If the people at headquarters didn’t like how she handled it, then they should try it sometime.
The more she knew about NM2, the more anxiety she felt. NM2, with its focus on human trafficking and with its ruthless disregard for human life, especially for women, was an extremely dangerous force.
Abbi left the critical care unit with a deeper understanding of the risks involved.
She smiled at Louise when they met up again in the lobby. For now it was enough to know her father was alive. No matter what happened, his words, his love and spirit would last forever.
Surprisingly, Big Sam also sat in the lobby when Abbi returned. As she approached, he stood up, turned off her listening device, and gave her a long hug. Abbi saw how concerned he was for both her and her father.
“How is he?” he asked, still hugging Abbi.
“Maybe he’s better than he looks? He was fully aware, able to talk, and he was happy to see me!”
When she answered, she looked at Big Sam specifically to read his face. A tear formed in his eye.
“He’s a tough man with a lot to live for. I believe he’ll pull through,” he said. He pushed Abbi away but held her shoulders in his hands and looked firmly into her eyes. He was unashamed of the tear that now rolled down his cheek.
Then, abruptly, Big Sam returned to his normal stiff and reserved self.
Abbi smiled at Louise who finally smiled back and wasn’t texting.
“I got hold of my father, too. He’s been working with other analysts and negotiators. It’s going to happen. They need you, er, uh, us!”
When they walked down the maze of halls to leave, Abbi realized how late it had become. Darkness had set in during the short time she had visited her father. Abbi should have felt exhausted. Instead, she felt a fresh buoyancy of hope.
FIFTY-THREE
Scott drove Big Sam and the girls back to Operation Missing Shoe headquarters. Multi-agency analysts had been brought in, including Mr. Pelletier, to study the information Abbi had given them and to bring Abbi and Big Sam up on some insights they had gained.
Someone had smuggled in a pizza and soft drinks. For that, Abbi was grateful. These people didn’t move on their stomachs much.
“Eat up! You deserve it!” said Big Sam with a smile, finally more relaxed.
Abbi helped herself to pizza and looked around at the seated staff. Lowell was still noticeably absent. She wanted to ask Mr. Pelletier about Gate Keeper but stuffed pizza in her mouth instead.
FBI Special Agent Ann Sobori came in and helped retrieve Abbi’s listening device while Abbi munched on pizza. Abbi liked her and thought she’d like to be just like that—young, pretty, smart, nice but tough, and work a job like that.
“You’ve been a busy girl!” Miss Sobori said.
“I got to see my father today! He looked great!” Abbi remembered too late that she was to keep relationships out of the discussions in headquarters.
“Sh-h!” Miss Sobori whispered. “We almost lost him, you know. It wasn’t his fault, just bad timing.”
“I hope they’ll let me help in this next drop,” Abbi said, reaching for another piece of pizza.
“We’ve got a plan. You’ll get details in the morning. And there will be more for Miss Soufflé to do. She has to get bored.”
“She finds distractions. Are they revealing the next part of the rescue plan tonight,” Abbi asked.
“Can’t. Not everyone’s here,” Miss Sobori said. “And I won’t be here in the morning. I’m keeping pretty busy too.”
She asked Abbi what clothes she had with her.
Abbi explained that, other than the suit she had on, she had jeans and a light hoodie. She also had her tank top and sweatpants. And running shoes.
“How about some fresh clothes? You look about a size 5 or 7? We want both you and Mademoiselle Soufflé to dress in uniform, as if on staff at an embassy. And you will have a leotard.”
Miss Sobori left Abbi and handed the listening mechanism to an analyst named Frank who was eager to listen for any new information that might be useful. After a few minutes Frank called Abbi over for questioning.
“Do you mind if I record my interview with you?” Frank asked as he turned on a small recorder. “Your, er, interview with Mr. Schumann I found intriguing. I’d like to catch your answers on my recorder. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Abbi said. She knew her conversation with her father would raise some eyebrows.
Abbi sipped a soft drink while she answered Frank’s questions. Then the analyst listened one more time to the recording from Abbi’s visit with her father before he began to question her.
“You said in this recording that you could describe Miss Shoe’s location.”
“Not her location exactly, but I can tell you a little about the shack I see her in,” Abbi said.
“What do you mean, you ‘see her’?” Fred asked.
“Where she’s being held,” Abbi said.
“You see it?”
“I have a picture in my mind,” Abbi said. “It’s a small dingy white house in the mountains. It’s somewhere in Virginia! Oh, my gosh! I just realized that!”
Abbi stood up and looked for Big Sam.
“Big Sam, she’s not in Mexico. She’s in Virginia now!”
Frank said, “I believe if my facts are straight, she’s in Mexico. Sam, I don’t know why she’s saying this.” He was very slightly shaking his head.
“Just hear her out, Frank,” Big Sam said.
“She’s not in Mexico. Miss Shoe is in an abandoned shack, not nice at all. The walls have ugly shredded wallpaper. She is sitting on the floor in an empty room.”
Frank shuffled in his seat and looked uncomfortable and then suddenly leaned forward.
Big Sam came over.
“You’re sure?”
“YES! It’s clear!”
“But the Smart Shoes! They’re still in Mexico with her phone,” Big Sam said.
Abbi described again the vision she saw.
“Better check again on the shoes,” Abbi said. “They moved her.”
“Carry on, Frank,” Big Sam said. He left to call Mrs. Hightower.
Frank scratched his head with his pen and hesitated before continuing the interview.
“Well, uh, you also discussed being zinged with Mr. Schumann. That’s zing, Z-I-N-G. Am I correct?”
Abbi nodded.
“What did you mean by ‘zinged’?” he asked quietly.
Abbi felt
suddenly heavy. They wouldn’t understand and she would lose credibility. She took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable.
“It’s a theory on teleporting that we talked about once,” Abbi said.
“Who talked about it?”
“Mr. Schumann and me.”
“How well do you know Mr. Shumann?”
“I’ve known him for a long time, since I was a kid,” Abbi whispered.
“Who teleported?”
“He did. Zinging is a special kind of teleporting. It’s something the human spirit can do, near death or when a person dies. At least, that’s the theory,” Abbi said. “He zinged me. His presence was real. I thought he must have been very close to dying.”
“And how did he do this?”
Abbi didn’t want to discuss it with this man. Others would hear. She felt uncomfortable about revealing what some might call the paranormal theories that she and her parents shared. For her to discuss something like this with Frank or anyone was like undressing in front of them. She told him just enough to get him to stop.
“Look. I don’t know how it works. I felt his spirit rush through me and I knew he was happy. That’s all.”
The analyst looked at her as if a two-headed monster had just sprung up from a Jack-in-the-box. He called Agent Sobori over and asked what she knew about teleporting.
“Nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing.”
He then asked Abbi what medications, either prescribed or otherwise, she had been taking.
“I don’t take anything, and I don’t drink or smoke. I also try to avoid junk food. I’m squeaky clean,” she said.
“Well, OK, Miss Kowalski. I’ll get back with you on this,” Frank said and quickly clicked off the recording device. Before he dismissed her, he said, “Obviously, Mr. Schumann is your father. Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“That explains your uncanny ability. It’s a gift,” he said with a smile. “I hope your father gets well soon.”
Abbi realized then that she had misjudged Frank. He was just a man doing his job. He still had a heart.
Abbi returned to Louise to let her know what had just happened. Before she could talk, Agent Sobori came over for Louise. Apparently they had a plan for her as well but no one was telling details. Mr. Pelletier was talking with the other analysts. Before long, Abbi and Louise were told to go to their room, get a good night’s sleep, and stay there until further notice.
FIFTY-FOUR
“OK, let’s talk!” Abbi said when she and Louise were back in the room.
“Is it safe? No two-way mirrors? I’m so jumpy. I don’t think I can sleep here.”
“We’re in this together! It looks like maybe they’re giving you some more responsibility? I want you to tell me everything you know.”
“At this point I don’t think there’s anything I could tell you.”
“Fair enough, but if you think of something, let me know.” Abbi knew Louise was being evasive, like a cat that would release the bird it was hiding.
“What if people in headquarters are watching us?” Louise asked.
“They might be watching the hallway to make sure we stay put, but they’re not going to watch us,” Abbi said, though she wasn’t convinced. “On second thought, if I hear a trumpet doing ‘Charge!’ when I undress, I’ll know better.”
“Fair enough, but just know that they might be.”
As a precaution, Abbi retrieved a towel from the bathroom and draped it over the mirror on the wall between their suite and headquarters.
“There!” Abbi said. “OK now?”
Louise laughed. “That’s just silly, but fine.”
Abbi took a moment to check the bed’s comfort level. There was no comfort level. The bed was simply two cots side by side sharing the same bedding. Nevertheless, she was tired and knew her body could sleep.
“This place is a little creepy,” Louise said, looking under the cots. “It’s not a bed at all! Just cots! Not even a mattress! Nothing is what it appears to be!”
Abbi checked for hidden cameras and bugging devices while Louise inspected their sleeping arrangements.
“Government surplus cots, I think,” Abbi said with a laugh. “Lots of things aren’t as they appear. The walls, the mirrors, things that move.”
“Things that go bump in the night,” Louise said. She yawned. “I’m so glad my dad’s here. He said my mother would be here tomorrow.”
“Your mother too? Is she an analyst or a spy? Or are they the same?”
“Can be. Yeah. OK. She analyzes. Works with data. There is one thing you might not know. Your parents take a lot of risks. As I understand it, they’re the stuntmen, quite a bit different than my parents. Not many people can or would do some of the things they do. I think your dad acts as bodyguard when your mom gets into stuff.”
“Yeah. That’s how he got hurt,” Abbi said, reflecting, remembering the interview. “Body guard and rescue stuff. That explains why we would take rappelling trips and such things. They were always trying out new things, new gadgets, new ways to move. Confined space rescue. Learning the GPS system. And they’d drag me along. I did a lot of hiking as a kid.”
“I used to think they were just nuts,” Louise admitted.
“When I was little, I thought they were burning up energy because they had such boring jobs!” Abbi said with a laugh. “Some shoe business! They really “danced” around the truth. They even had business cards, Fred’s Boots Incorporated. Really! I couldn’t find the business on the Internet. So then I thought, everything’s on the Internet, why not Fred’s Boots? That was my first big clue.”
“My parents talk a lot about how amazing your parents are, and how much like them you are, that thing about the apple not falling far from the tree.”
Abbi grinned and felt her nose burning as tears welled up in her eyes. Words could not express how proud she felt of her parents. Being like them in some ways would be pretty cool.
“Hey, why not Fred’s Boots? On the Internet. We could start our own investigations!”
“Three reasons, Louise. For one, it’s not really boots. Two, we’re not licensed to investigate anything, and three, we don’t do investigations. Remember?”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong! You investigate! Think about it. You got into your mother’s computer! Not everyone could have found the stuff you found. That was pretty good!”
“Wait! What’s this?” Abbi said, pointing to a device by the door.
“Oh, that thing? It’s a kind of sensor. The CIA uses them all the time.”
“What’s it do?”
“It records sounds. It’s a voice activated digital spy bug.”
“Really, Louise. You surprise me. I wish I’d known it was here. So they are listening to us?”
“It’s not us they want to hear. Other sounds, just to keep us safe,” Louise said.
“Funny, I don’t remember seeing it before.”
Abbi studied it.
Louise went into the bathroom to get her shower and soon slipped into their double-cot.
Meanwhile, Abbi examined the room more closely. The room had the look and feel of being thrown together fast with mismatched items, poorly arranged furniture and colors that clashed. Definitely not feng shui but free room and board. And right next to the temporary headquarters. Not a bad perk. Abbi decided she could make it work.
“Good night, Louise! I’m glad you’re here,” Abbi said.
“Me, too. Night night! I hope you’ll be in the shower soon,” Louise said. “Ugh! This is SO. NOT. COMFY! Oops! Forgot something. Have to recharge my phone.” Louise was getting dramatic again but, as much as she used it for texting, that was a big deal.
“Our phones. Me, too! Then I’m recharging me!”
Louise seemed to take longer plugging in her phone than usual.
Abbi went into the bathroom but still had a feeling they weren’t finished with things appearing different than they really were. If she could slip into Missing Sh
oe Headquarter, she could check out the archived news reports of NM2 on a laptop. But headquarters was locked and she knew she didn’t have unassisted access or, for that matter, permission.
After awhile, after Abbi’s shower, she could still hear Louise who had not made it back to bed. Abbi wondered how anyone could text so much but figured she must be exercising when she heard noise and grunting. Too active for texting. Finally, she heard Louise return to the squeaky cot.
It was well before midnight when Abbi flicked off the light and snuggled into the clean, crisp sheets. Shortly after midnight a knocking sound brought Abbi out of REM sleep, the deepest sleep she’d felt in days. She had actually been dreaming and woke up enough to dismiss the knocking, thinking it was at some other door down the hall. Then she heard it again, louder this time. Louise groaned and rolled over, apparently trying to shut out the noise.
“Ladies!” Lowell called. “Hey, girls, you’ve got company! Got room for one more?”
“Jola!” said a girl’s voice. “Mind if I come in?”
Calista had arrived.
Abbi scrambled out of bed and checked the time. Almost midnight. She switched on a light and threw the towel off the mirror to check her reflection. Her tank top and sweatpants would have to do for now.
She bounded toward the door and opened it. Immediately, when she saw Calista, a warning alarm went off in her head. Something looked familiar, even sinister, about her although she had the look of an angel, as if she just stepped off a Victoria’s Secret photo shoot.
To ease tension, Abbi smiled and said, “Glad you made the trip. You must be exhausted. Want salad, pizza, anything?”
“I don’t need a thing,” Calista said. Her eyes quickly surveyed the room.
“It looks like maybe this loveseat here makes into small a bed,” Abbi said, studying its shape.
“It does,” Lowell said.
“We’re sleeping on cots, but if I’d known you were coming to this apartment, I’d have gotten this roll-out ready for you. It has to be more comfortable than a cot,” Abbi said, showing the loveseat to Calista, knowing that she was talking too much, too fast. “As thin as you are, Calista, the loveseat should big enough.”