Jahnni hurriedly scanned the door with her badge while the others jumped into action. Yes! She screamed in her head. Her badge worked this time. Then she pulled the door wide open, hoping it would ding to mislead their pursuers into following through the door. She then joined the others as they all had leapt into the two dumpsters used for recycling paper. Mr. Harleyman had rolled Mr. Tropopoulis in then smoothly pulled himself over the edge of the container, reaching his hand out for Jahnni to join them. Just as Jahnni’s foot cleared the air, and the lid was lowered at the same time by Mr. Harleyman, the uniforms came around the last bend on the stairwell and burst into the small area that held the large commercial recycling containers. They caught the door before it closed all the way and they clamored through and took off at a dead run down the little roadway that the tugs drove on to deliver bags.
Jahnni and her group leapt out of the containers and quickly started picking pieces of shredded paper out of each other’s hair and clothes. After Jahnni opened the secured door again, she peeked around the corner to see that no one was near. They went through the door into the bagwell together, but not until the door alarm began its security dinging once more. Realizing that their pursuers might very soon figure out that they had been tricked again and may have heard the door, Jahnni decided on another escape.
Sure enough, the far away footsteps started getting closer. Louder and louder they pounded until they came around the last corner. Their shoes squeaked to a stop.
“We’ve lost them. I don’t think they came this way,” reported the ‘uniform’ who seemed in charge of the radio.
“This is the only way they could have gone. Keep looking,” ordered the voice on the radio.
“Did the cameras pick something up?” the winded ‘uniform’ said.
“They are there somewhere, I’m telling you. I am looking at the camera-feed replay that faces that door. Hold on... Not only are we looking for an airline employee named Jahnni, Arnie is in the group. Ha ha! I repeat. Arnie is with Jahnni. Keep looking. Bring them all to me!” the voice ordered.
“Boss says we are looking for a guy named Johnny now and this Arnie he’s been searching for all day. We need to find these guys!” ordered one of the uniformed guys to the other.
“Did you see the photos he said he was going to show us, of this Arnie?” the other ‘uniform’ asked.
“No. I think he forgot when he set off the plan too soon. We’ll worry about that later. Let’s keep looking.”
Jahnni had been holding her breath, while trying to listen to their conversation. She heard the footsteps of the ‘uniforms’ as if they scurried, looking around every crevice and nook. Their voices faded as she continued her last-second journey with Sam, Crutch, Mr. Tropopoulis, and Mr. Harleyman until the only sound she could hear was the whirring of bag belts and clanging of metal rollers as their bodies hit a curve in their path. Once on a moving, flat, rubber conveyor belt, she rested momentarily and listened to the pulse in her ears that echoed her heartbeat.
Chapter 11
I’m Not Having Fun Anymore
The bag belts were still running in some areas and making all sorts of racket. It was a virtual freeway of belts and rollered conveyors. Off to the west end of the first transfer belt, one that all the airlines use to send the bags transferring to other airlines, were five clumps coming around the bend. They were laying down and riding the night train into the darkness and out again before being dumped onto the main loading belt for American Airlines. The bag carts were parked in rows and half loaded, obviously abandoned as the emergency went into effect. All the employees had evacuated the area after they had secured the aircraft and the nearby wide access doors that led out to the planes. The bags were going around and around the circular belt with no one to sort them into their respective carts for loading.
“Ouch!”
“Weeee.”
“Ahh.”
“Umph.”
“Mffff.”
All five bodies slid out the bag shoot and tumbled onto the final carousel belt for sorting, had they been bags destined for an American Airlines flight. Jahnni was the last one, watching the others arrive ahead of her. She thought they all looked like overstuffed luggage. Mr. Tropopoulis went feet first and appeared to slip down the shoot onto the belt ending in a standing position, before hurriedly sitting down on the circulating belt. Samantha and Crutch slid down like they were on a playground slide... backwards and landing in heap. But Mr. Harleyman... Jahnni was sure that she saw him tuck and roll, then land onto the transfer belt in a squatting position. Impressive, she thought.
They sat frozen on the moving rubber landing, like monkey statues on a conveyor belt, churning around in a circular motion. Their eyes darted everywhere as they looked around. Jahnni listened intently, checking to hear if they were still being pursued. But there was silence; except for the churning of the motors and belts which usually carried bags through their galactic-appearing routes. After they jumped off the circulating belt, they ran to the nearby carts and hopped into them. They rested to let their breathing calm down while they tried to figure out their next move.
Mr. Harleyman lifted his shirt and tucked his weapon back in the black leather holster. He scanned the area then whispered to Crutch, “Okay, Geronimo. Enough fun already? Why did your parents name you Crutch anyway? That is one weird name, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“It’s... my nickname. Everyone calls me that at home. It’s a complicated story. Maybe later, I’ll tell you the story when we have more time,” Crutch whispered back without looking up. He was still playing a hand-held game that he’d had since Samantha picked him up from his inbound flight.
“Hmmm. Okay, buddy. I expect to hear the full version very soon,” Mr. Harleyman said with a smile, then looked over Crutch’s shoulder. “By the way, you have to hit jump two times before you try to jump over the volcanic magma that’s trying to destroy that bridge. If you only click once, you will miss the hanging rope that swings you to the cliff’s edge where you can find the hidden stairs when you hit jump two times again.”
“How did... you’ve played this before?” Crutch asked, looking up at Mr. Harleyman before shifting his eyes at Jahnni. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“Men are just taller boys,” she said, speaking in a low tone as she looked out of the cart she was in, to address them in the next cart.
Mr. Tropopoulis was sitting next to Jahnni. They were both leaning against some medium size animal crates. She let her head fall back against the crates as she looked up, trying to think. She held back tears, refusing to give up. How difficult can it be to just get to a door? If I knew where the ‘uniforms’ were, we could simply run to the door at the other end of the bagwell, badge through, and be done with this nonsense.
She turned her eyes to see that Samantha seemed distracted; probably mooning over the fact that her big date wasn’t going to happen tonight, Jahnni thought. Crutch kept playing his little electronic game, with the sound turned off. She was glad he had it to keep him occupied. Mr. Tropopoulis sat smiling as he looked around at the entire baggage area, his eyes following the walls and vents and pipes. He looked like he was in his own world.
Jahnni glanced over at Mr. Harleyman and wondered what he was thinking. He sat still and somber, tapping his index finger against his leg while looking around the bagwell. Jahnni could only assume his mind was churning out ideas.
She studied his chiseled features and once again, noticed his lips, wondering... well, just wondering. She closed her eyes, only briefly of course. Her mind wandered as she imagined his touch. She thought about the moment he walked up to the ticket counter, the beach fantasy playing in slow motion over and over in her mind. Then he was smiling at her as sand kicked up behind him with each running step. He ran to her with his hands outstretched to catch her when she flung herself into his arms. The soft sand of the beach was warm on her bare feet as she threw herself into an embrace. He swung her around in the air, trickle
s of water splashing with each step. She felt him softly nudging her shoulder and sliding what felt like his wet sensuous lips on her neck, his warm breath blowing softly, no panting, as he ran his face up to her ear and then across her cheek, and... What am I thinking? This isn’t the time to day dream, girl! We are in trouble here. Focus!
Jahnni immediately turned to look behind her where she and Mr. Tropopoulis were sitting. Her mouth fell agape when she saw the sight that had caused her so much imaginary happiness. Poodles. Two, furry, fluffy, panting, poodles; crated and marked for shipment. One huddled close to the edge of the cage still trying to give her more puppy kisses; its tongue licking the air between the metal bars of the crate. She slowly reached over and patted the little guys through the bars with her fingers, making kissing noises to them so they’d stay calm... And to give herself time to let her heartbeat get back to normal.
Crutch looked up and smiled, shook his head and then went back to his game. Mr. Harleyman got up and moved the kennels further to the back of the cart.
“It’s okay, Pops. You’re kinda silent over here. We’ll figure this out and get out of here,” Mr. Harleyman said, giving him a one-armed hug.
Wow, thought Jahnni. Warm and consoling too! What more can a girl ask for?
“Hey, Mr. Harleyman,” Jahnni whispered suddenly. “What kind of guns were the two Port cops waving around? That is, if they are Port cops. And what were the guns that those people in the white overall looking suits carrying? Not that I plan on being on the other end of one, but, I’m just curious.”
“The Port Police, again, I’m not sure yet if they are Port Police but I doubt it... were carrying a Glock 22. Same as I’m carrying. I used to carry a Sig Sauer, but I’ve been carrying this one for about a year. Very Reliable.” After pausing Mr. Harleyman went on, “and the two guys in the waterproof hazmat-type suits are carrying M4’s. They are becoming standard issue in the military, replacing the M16a2’s. Haven’t worked out who they could be yet. You have any ideas?”
But before Jahnni could answer, he touched her arm as if to tell her to not talk. He looked at the others and held his finger to his lips. Voices. Or was that the whirring of the bag-belt? No... Jahnni definitely heard voices. They all quietly and slowly pulled their legs back up into the carts and moved to hide behind the bags that were already in the carts. About this time, Jahnni wished they wouldn’t all have jammed together in the same two carts.
The two guys in the white hazmat suits slithered around the corner, backs to the wall. What are these guys? Who are these guys? Jahnni thought, still puzzled. They were jabbering in a language she couldn’t understand, even though she continued to eavesdrop. After talking, one motioned his head towards the main tunnel.
They pulled up their M4’s and started winding around the walls and carts. They stopped by the Coke machine to look around the corner for clearance, and then took off running for the main tunnel.
The main tunnel, Jahnni thought. That leads to the mezzanine where the fountain is. “Where the fountain is,” she whispered out loud, looking at Samantha.
“Uh, Jahnni? Remember when I told you I understood the masked guys?” Samantha said, more like a question.
“Ya. What did you hear?” Jahnni said before noticing Mr. Harleyman’s mouth half open as if he was going to ask the same thing.
Samantha added, “Right before they left, I am sure that I heard one of them say that they should have grabbed them before, since they already knew who they were. Then the other one said that they couldn’t yet because it wasn’t clear if they even had the plans to know how to get down there, under the fountain.” She paused as she added air quotes around the words, “down there.”
“You must have ears like a bat. I couldn’t make out a thing they were saying even if I spoke Hungarian,” Jahnni commented.
Samantha went on, “Then the tall one said, ‘They are here in the airport somewhere,’ then the other one whispered back, ‘I still think we could have stopped this entire debacle long before it got this far if he would have listened to us.’”
Samantha stopped speaking briefly to look at each one in the group before finishing what she had to say. “It isn’t so much what they said, but who said it. I just realized that the smaller guy... well isn’t a guy. He’s a her. A she. A lady. She said they had to block the other route to the fountain’s pipes, and stop them from getting to it. But, I don’t know who the ‘them’ is. It can’t be us because they already had us... briefly, remember? And I don’t know why someone is going through all this just to get into a stupid fountain.”
“By chance, did you ladies see the lovely ornaments on their neck?” Mr. Harleyman asked, even though he didn’t look over at them. He was watching the tunnel.
“Well, now that you mention it, I wondered about that when we saw them the first time. I saw something that looked like a small swim mask or rubbery looking thing around their necks. But I was a little too preoccupied to give it much more thought,” Jahnni answered.
“Well, those little swim masks are tethered to a very small underwater breathing device that holds crystals. It is a new concept that is being developed for underwater divers, rescuers, treasure hunters and the like. It’s now being called the Aquatic Vent, but it is still in development. The small t-shaped device the small mask is tethered to holds the crystals. You can breathe underwater using it. Like a fish. Our Dive Teams at Quantico are testing them.” He looked over at Jahnni after scanning the area. Jahnni met his gaze then looked away towards the tunnel that the gunmen exited as she tried to process the meaning of this new information. Plus, she was trying not to look too long into Mr. Harleyman’s eyes because it made her lose her train of thought. Not good at a time like this, she reminded herself.
“The Columbia River is quite a walk from the airport. The only other water I can think of is the fountain’s pools and they are not very deep, maybe two to three feet at different places. And they are stocked with fish. A few sockeye or chinook salmon, steelhead trout. Oh, and the Japanese-looking one has huge Koi,” Jahnni said as her eyes searched up, down, and around at nothing in particular while she tried to think if any other water was nearby. “I did learn when I started working here, that the currents produced by the waterfall had been engineered to create the optimum oxygen levels for each of the species. So, it would seem like there is too much... engineering? to mess with to try and climb backwards in the fountain. And for what?” After no one had any more input, she sighed, realizing that there were so many questions and not enough answers.
Jahnni reminded everyone, “If something is going to happen at the fountain, then we need to go the other direction to get out of here. I don’t want to even know what is going to transpire there. I just want to get us out of here and safe! The closest access door from inside here to the passenger bag carousels was taped over with caution tape. I got a brief glance at it when we were riding the bag belts here. Not sure what that is about. So, we need to alter the plan a bit. There are more doors that lead out to the baggage carousel, but a little further away. And there’s also the large openings that the tugs drive in and out through. Oh, wait, those are closed and locked down now, so I guess one of the other carousel access doors is our best option.”
“Well, I think Beau will get us safely out of here. He is good boy, this fellow. Good boy!” Mr. Tropopoulis said with such fervor. “I go where he goes.”
“Okay Jahnni, how do we get to the First Class Air’s bagwell?” Mr. Harleyman said before adding, “If it’s not far, we can get there quickly and maybe check the phone lines again.”
At this moment, he could demand to be taken to Cuba and Jahnni would comply. Tropical. Caribbean waters. Soft sand that trickles between our toes as we run in slow motion toward each other to embrace. If he were to ask that, she thought, it would be wise to inform him of the new political climate and suggest we visit Jamaica or possibly, even the Dominican Republic. “But I’d like Bora Bora... I hear the sand is luxurious between the to
es... So many choices!” she blurted out before she realized the words were falling from her mind and out her mouth. “I mean, I, uh, um, there are a couple ways to get to our bagwell.” What is wrong with me? Do your job!
“Jahnni? Are you okay?” Mr. Harleyman asked, to get her attention. “So, it’s close? Can we go there now?”
“Oh,” she blushed, “I don’t think this is the time to plan a tropical excursion like this, but we could possibly...” she stopped talking when she noticed his confused look when his eyebrows arched up. “I mean, oh yeah, sure, our bagwell is not too far and it is on the way to the other exit doors to the bag carousels.” Okay, that’s enough! She lectured herself. Stop daydreaming. You’re not going to Cuba... or Bora Bora.
She listened to see if it was safe to re-enter the tunnel.
“You guys need to stay behind me. I’ll make sure it’s safe. Just guide me,” he told Jahnni.
She nodded and they started walking very quickly, stopping only before each corner for Mr. Harleyman to check that the ‘uniforms’ were not nearby. They dodged traffic cones, abandoned tugs, and followed a path that Jahnni knew well. She had worked just about every position from ground agent, or stocking food and beverages in planes, to working inside the airport. Her well-rounded experience was what got her the supervisor position she held now. Not to mention her penchant for mastering everything her job title called for. She didn’t want bragging rights, she just didn’t like to not have the answers to important questions. She studied anything and everything to gain any knowledge she might possibly need. Now, some of that knowledge was proving more useful than she imagined.
They didn’t stop until they rounded the last corner and started to enter the First Class bagwell. They slid to a stop, bumping into each other. Had the bag belt not been whirring and clanking around and around, the uniformed guys would have heard them and they would have been caught.
Samantha motioned with her finger to her lips as she looked at Mr. Tropopoulis and Crutch. Then she pointed across the cemented bagwell area. Slowly, they backed against the wall and looked for a way to escape, in case they were indeed heard.
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