The idea that a strongly formed mental construct could affect their processes proved thrilling. The hunters were like him except they had training he didn’t.
Another realization was more disturbing: for the second time during sex there had been another presence, an awareness unlike the hunters, piggybacking his thoughts as light as a moth. He’d had no defense, no way to detach or shield from it, and it passed with each coupling. He had to think something else was watching them.
He wiped tears from Anki’s face, tears she said were as much for the perfection of their joining as for the love she’d felt. Whether or not they’d have the chance to explore their new union remained to be seen. To have felt it though, gave him strength and courage.
He kissed her. “Let’s get you changed into Andrie.”
Twenty minutes later, Anki’s platinum blondeness was gone, replaced by a dark, wet mass soaking in brunette dye. The risk they’d taken in the bedroom and the confrontation in his head presented a gnawing regret that he tried to shake. He focused on Anki’s makeup and continually shifted mood and thoughts, avoiding any one mental space too long. The hunters hadn’t returned though it could only be a matter of time.
She pointed again to a droplet forming above her forehead. He dabbed with a cloth protect his work. The glue on the chin, cheekbone, and brow pads had just about set. The size and placement of the pads would cancel out face-matching systems at the airports although they robbed her of her natural beauty.
“Almost there. You okay?”
She nodded as she wasn’t allowed to talk or stretch her face.
“Don’t move, I’m going to spray now. Here, dab as you need to. Close your eyes.”
Using a micro-airbrush he applied the skin coloring to hide the white latex pads. Like a real-life photoshop, the pads became part of her face. After drying he had her stretch a bit then applied sealer. No melting faces in the rain.
He stepped back to take in his work. The effect was natural and dramatic: she just wasn’t the same woman. A timer sounded.
“Okay give it another minute then rinse but very carefully. No peeking until we dry your mop!”
She finished toweling her hair just as he returned with his Max Dosch pads.
“This is unbelievable,” she said, finally looking in the mirror. “A stranger. I’m a stranger. This is so, so odd.”
“Give it a few minutes then start with your makeup. Bring out your cheekbones.”
He went to work on himself. Twenty-five minutes later his new face dried while he prepared a suitcase. Downstairs, he snapped Andrie Van Gelder’s photo for her ID, had her change her shirt, changed the lighting, background, and adjusted zoom before taking another for her passport. From a shoe box he selected two ink stamps, one from England’s Heathrow and the other from Brussels, Belgium.
“Not well traveled, am I?”
“Sorry, no time for you to be. Remember the dates. I have simple stories for those trips if you need them. You can ad lib, I hope. Are you a good liar?”
“Aren’t we all?”
After applying his own makeup he prepared a message to Soldado with a request for hospitality upon arrival. A request to meet in person might shock him but with the right protocols he should accommodate.
“Andrie? It’s time to roll.”
“I’ve decided I don’t like my face, Johan, it’s–”
“No, it’s Max. Max Dosch.”
“Okay, Max, my face is boxy, without grace,” she said with a pout. “You really screwed the pooch.”
“You are lovely, my dear Andrie. Simply lovely. Now come, it’s time to go and start a new life.”
• • •
“Whoever he is, he’s evaded.”
Director Tomov listened to the update, as unhappy as he’d felt in a long while. Duty started in half an hour and he’d hoped for better news. The Executives wouldn’t like it.
“Continue.”
“We are setting up at airports and train stations. Ground and air units have been assigned to major roadways. Local law has been alerted, as have the media – the Rotterdam Butcher is in Amsterdam. Overseer has nothing yet so we feel confident the material has not been disseminated.”
“Acknowledged.”
Tomov disconnected and stared at the old clock his friend Mamar had given him. Its familiar tick filled the room. As always, the second hand took a tiny step backward before moving forward into the next, as if protesting the movement its very existence served.
Such a familiar feeling.
Chapter 9
A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.
-John A. Shedd, 1859 - ? , American Author, professor
Mac screwed the gas cap closed and eyed the highway as he circled back into the camper. Topped off, the rig would need two, maybe three more refuelings to reach the cabin. Food was also on the agenda but smaller stores northwest of Reno would be safer.
Kaiya rested in the bedroom while he drove up highway 49 through forested hills. They passed the occasional community; the largest, Grass Valley and Nevada City, receded in the mirrors without incident. There was nothing to lead authorities to the RV unless Helen had revealed it before dying – or if they had stolen her thoughts. He suppressed a shudder. Steve might change his mind, too. So far, the radio chatter mentioned only the Mazda.
The miles rolled by taking the hours with them. The Coachman emerged from the trees onto the high Sierra plains and its alpine scrub. Sunlight warmed the dash but not his thoughts. The organizations gunning for the laptop had killed, kidnapped, and framed so far. Brodie was involved or at least served under a command that was. The good news was he’d gotten Kaiya free, had the laptop, and was heading to the safety of the cabin. Brent and Austin’s fates were beyond knowing, at least for now. With Kaiya safe and settled, he could regroup and begin to explore options.
The bedroom door opened and Kaiya came forward. He noted her positive mood and knew that she’d taken charge of her fear. Her hair was pushed up in Helen’s floppy yellow hat and she wore a yellow windbreaker and large black sunglasses. She sat down in the passenger’s chair.
“How’s this?”
He touched the brim of Frank’s Panama hat. “On vacation.”
“So are we there yet, dad? Huh, are we?”
He smiled. “Almost at Portola for gas and food. When we get there I want you out of sight.”
“Okay.” She studied him. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Just over thirty-one hours. I’m okay.” His voice betrayed the words. It had been so much easier just five years ago.
She frowned. “Yeah no, I don’t think so. Do we have to get to the cabin right away? Couldn’t we find a place to park so you can rest?”
Resting appealed to his every sense but staying so near Sacramento didn’t. Less than two hundred miles felt like their front yard under the circumstances.
She reached over to a small GPS device on the dash and powered it up. “Here, let’s find an RV park. We’ll blend in.”
He watched Kaiya figure out the device and understood better why Austin was drawn to her. She had an inner beauty comprised of vitality, intelligence and tenacity that surpassed her exterior. She’d opted to aim for strength in spite of the situation. It spoke volumes about her spirit.
The thought of what they might do to that spirit was unacceptable.
She peered ahead. “Up here on the right. Sierra Valley RV.” They passed the tree-shrouded entrance. “They’ve got free wifi.” She turned to him. “Mac, you look tapped. Let’s not take chances on the road. We can rest and check out the laptop.”
“Alright. We’ll circle back after fueling. If we use the laptop, it will be under my direction. Capiche?”
“No problem, Mac, I get it now. I do.”
They arrived in the town of Portola just at nine o’clock and pulled into a corner gas station and market. Mac went inside to get groceries and pre-paid for the gas with cash: in and out, as unrem
arkable as he could be.
He started the fueling and looked around. The small town was easy on the senses. A coffee shop across the street. A restaurant down the way named The Log Cabin was just that, a large log cabin. A customer went into a grocery store down the street. An old man walked his dog without a leash. Laid back, the way life should be.
Seconds after the thought, a California Highway Patrol sedan came into view and rolled to a stop at the light. Mac turned away. Adrenaline surged to make his pulse pound in his neck. Bulletins for cop killers were always issued statewide, if not wider. A few moments later the black and white cruiser entered his peripheral vision and continued down the street. By the time fueling was done the adrenaline spike waned and the reality of fatigue won over.
He paid cash for a night’s stay in the RV park. Their slot was at the back and allowed view of the entrance to the park as well as access to a dirt road to a street beyond. He chose not to plug in to the park’s electrical service and instead relied on the generator for power. They’d take a few hours of sleep and be gone again, no ties or tethers.
Kaiya noted their neighbors’ RVs were all closed up, unlike some of the other campers in the park who were socializing with other families. He was okay with that.
“Last thing we need is face time with anyone. You up for some Frosted Flakes?”
“Oh why not.” Kaiya closed the windshield curtains around the cab.
“I want to tell you, you’re doing good, Kaiya. You’re holding up well.”
She grimaced. “Thanks, but most of this is pure redirection. If I stop to think about it I’ll fall apart.”
“Understood. Still, you’re doing well.”
She shook her head. “I never wanted to believe any of this. Austin used to talk about how corrupt the government was and how they kept really important secrets. Psychic stuff, major conspiracies. It made me uncomfortable so he stopped talking about it. What do you know, Mac? About all this?”
“Not enough, apparently.” He told her about the years of government research and its official result. “I always thought it odd to hide the research then publicly admit to it while calling it a wash, a failure.”
“When has government ever admitted to blowing millions on something so insubstantial?”
“That’s the thing. It just seems their way of ending the discussion. If government investigated it thoroughly and there was nothing to it, then the majority’s mind would be made up, too. The power of a strong government.” Just how often the effect was used would boggle her mind. “And it helps that the public has an incredibly short memory.”
“But if they can read minds, how come they haven’t found us?”
“All I know is that it won’t take a mind reader to track us down if they put enough effort into it. Then there’s Steve. That’s why I want to get to Smith Falls as fast as possible.”
The cabin was located in a remote area near the Canadian border, near the base of Italian Peak. Chet Arnold bought it with Mac’s money, used it on occasion, and generally kept it as his own with the understanding Mac might need it someday. It wasn’t luxurious but it was comfortable.
Kaiya grew distant while she finished her cereal. Her upbeat mood had swung down. No surprise, it was a lot to handle even for him. She was probably thinking of Austin.
“Mac, let’s check out the laptop. It could hold clues to who is behind all this.”
So much for reading distant looks. “Sheez. Alright, break it out. But no internet. I want to see the note from the hacker.”
She nearly leapt to the case, pulled out the laptop, and set it up on the table. He switched sides to keep an eye on things. It didn’t take long for her to locate a folder named ‘hackershit’. Inside it, a readme file contained the message from the hacker.
He read it and grunted. “Guy’s got balls. Sends a message to say, ‘Here’s something that is going to screw up your life big time. See you around!’ Amazing.”
She scanned the directory. “Okay, here are the two files. Check out the introduction. This is what made me worry.”
He read the text interspersed with the squares. “Well, it’s definitely a warning. I imagine Austin wishes he’d taken it now.”
“I know he figured out the key to the encryption. His notes file should have it.” She scrolled down. “Yep, here it is.”
She used the key and the file opened for browsing. She read aloud the original email from Darren Blythe to [email protected]. As bizarre as it looked at first glance, it made a kind of sense now. Whoever had been tracking Darren had put the fear of God in him. Kaiya fell quiet after reading the message.
“Any direct emails from the hacker to Austin?” he asked.
“He didn’t mention any and his notes don’t say. Let me check.” She brought up Austin’s email client and scanned the inbox. “No, nothing. This is all old stuff.”
She closed the mail program and re-read Austin’s notes. “Well, there’s forty parts to the file and he only got two. Here’s the program that downloads them. And here’s the email address for the guy who sent it.”
Mac exhaled heavily and looked at the freemail.com address. The only possible lead to where the file came from stared back at him from the screen. Kaiya eyed him expectantly.
He shrugged. “What? What would you say to him, Kaiya? He doesn’t know where Austin is.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Mac. Maybe he does? Maybe he’s been broadcasting this file around. Maybe the media will pick it up. Then we could come forward and get help. These people are powerful, yeah, but they’re obviously afraid of this going public. If that happens the lid will blow clear off and we won’t have to hide. I can’t stand having to hide.”
It was difficult to deflate her hopes but he had to speak the truth. “Kaiya, be prepared to wait. Even if a lid does come off, it won’t happen overnight. You can bet your breakfast on that. The first editor or producer from any reputable media outlet to even think of posting a story about whatever’s in the file would be shot down so fast... I’m sorry, I just don’t see it happening. Not if it’s as revealing as it must be.”
“But what if it goes viral?”
“It would have to be bulletproof. Even then it might go big only to be ridiculed. Elaborate hoaxes are devised all the time. Unless there is some seriously credible and damning evidence in there, it might never break. Even then, counter-information can easily dissemble genuine truths. Most people don’t want to be removed from their comfort zones. Trust me on that one.”
“Okay, okay, I see your point. But again I say, something in this file is incredibly important to them or they wouldn’t be trying so hard to control it. That’s leverage! I think if it gets out, there will be real consequences, real change. And they know it.”
Real consequences of what nature? She was reaching for stars from the top of a hay bale, unaware of the distances involved or of the danger of falling.
She closed the laptop. “You don’t agree and you’re already thinking of something else.”
“I’m just not sure letting the file go viral is the right approach. The consequences may actually be more harmful than good. And yes, I’m thinking of something else.”
“What?”
He stood and cleared their bowls from the table. “I’m thinking of who could be have grabbed Austin. Remember, Crawford and Vasco had no reason to rough you up if they had him. And if they did, he wouldn’t hold out more than five minutes with the techniques we use for interrogation.” He met her uneasy glance. “Point is, they would have located the laptop already and wouldn’t need you. Someone else has Austin.”
She looked at him. “Or maybe those two killed him before he told them the laptop’s location and thought I might know where it is.”
There was nothing to say to such a sobering thought. A gutsy, realistic consideration, though grim; another reason to admire her.
“Mac, I want to check on my mom. I need to let her know something. She has to know to defend her
self and why.”
“Yes, I get that. I’ll need to think of a way to reach her without exposing ourselves.” He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes. Thinking was getting harder and harder.
She stood up. “Get some sleep, Mac. I didn’t get any earlier so I’ll try again. There’s an alarm on the nightstand. I’ll take the couch.”
He eyed the laptop.
She noticed and frowned. She powered it off, pulled the plug, and handed it to him. “So, how about that trust, eh?”
Chastised, he replied, “You take the bed, I want to be near the door. Set the alarm four hours out.” He pulled his M9 from its holster and set it on the floor by the couch.
“Right.” She turned and walked towards the bedroom, tossing her crumpled napkin in the trash.
He peeked through the curtains at the park. Everything appeared quiet. He double-checked the doors and windows before stretching out on the couch. Within minutes, sleep came to claim him.
• • •
Austin flopped onto the bed he’d slept in the night before. Marcel settled on the other bed while Meng took up sentry in the doorway.
The situation was now approaching freefall, the direction and speed decided by powers beyond him. Moments before he agreed to take a pill that would facilitate his experience in the ‘next step’. What exactly was to happen Marcel wouldn’t reveal. He would only say that he would dream. If trust was misplaced, he may never get to realize it.
“Alright Austin, you will feel disoriented and that is normal. The pill is fast acting, so be ready. By that, I mean be relaxed.”
He wasn’t lying. The room weaved as a drowsy feeling swept in, yet a part of him remained acutely aware. Layers of consciousness sort of stacked up and faded away, leaving a singular sense of self. A sea of percolating darkness surrounded him, saturated with potential.
“This is amazing.” His voice echoed in a strange way. For the first time in his life, he’d watched himself fall asleep in a lucid state.
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