by Doug Raber
Parsons sat back down. He reached for his stamp and marked the second page SECRET as well. He put both pages inside the envelope and placed the envelope into his briefcase. He clicked the latches closed and checked that the combination lock was functioning properly. When he reached Zaborsky’s office, the Colonel was already working at his computer. “I’ve got something important to show you, sir.”
“The person who took this call? That’s who I interviewed at the Post. Sarah Lockford’s boss. But the caller isn’t Lockford. It’s somebody named Wallingford.”
“Think back to your training, Parsons. When people make up an alias, they usually just make minor changes to their real names. It’s probably her, but we need more. Did you trace the phone number?”
“Not yet sir. I’ll get right on it as soon as we’re done. I wanted to get this info to you as quickly as possible.” The mistakes were piling up. Zaborsky hadn’t mentioned the time lag between the intercept and the present discussion, but Parsons knew his superior wouldn’t have missed it. Now Parsons knew he’d dropped another ball as well.
“Find out everything you can. I want to know every call that’s been made to and from this cell phone. And don’t stop there. Find this woman. She’s becoming a real threat to our country.”
A minute later, Zaborsky was alone, but he spoke aloud. “Goddammit. Goddammit. Goddammit. I need to see Edwards.”
* * *
Day 32: Distance Learning
Robinson Edwards finished reading the intercept of Sarah’s call to Sue Parkinson. “The shit has really hit the fan, Colonel. We’ve got to get this under control.”
“If we can find her, can we stop her from publishing her story? What about going to the Post and asking the editor to put a hold on it? It’s a legitimate question of national security.”
“I wish it were that easy. Some new information just came in. It’s probably on your computer by now. Remember the doctor running the CDC team out in New Mexico? Overman? He’s missing.”
“You think somebody took him out?”
“No, I think he took himself out.”
“Killed himself, sir?”
“No Bob, he’s AWOL. According to our team in Farmington, he disappeared for a couple of hours on Wednesday. On Thursday, he did it again, and at the end of the day he just left. Nobody has seen him since.”
“Maybe he’s just goofing off. What do we have to make us think he’s on the run?”
“There’s more that you haven’t seen yet this morning. Our people in Atlanta sent us information on Overman’s background. It turns out he has a girlfriend.”
“Yeah?”
“Her name is Sarah Lockford.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Another thing. The Indian that we think was the terrorist agent? You remember he disappeared too?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well he isn’t disappeared anymore. They found his body on Wednesday. They didn’t notify me until last night, because they wanted to confirm the identity. But it’s him, all right. I think we’re looking a terrorist cell. The Navajo was in on it. We need to find Overman, and Lockford.”
“The phone call! The transcript—the call was made from Colorado.”
“Right, it says Cortez. Are you familiar with it?”
“Not yet, but I think we probably should be, sir. Can you bring up a map?”
Edwards launched a classified version of Google Earth and entered the coordinates from the telephone intercept. The two men watched the image of Earth grow larger until the sphere was wider than the screen, and they were zooming into the American southwest. Finally, they were looking at a close view of some roads and buildings.”
“Back out a little, sir.”
“It’s an air strip.”
“Back out a little more …”
The city name showed up at the next level. It was Cortez.
“Keep zooming out. We need to see what part of Colorado this is.”
Edwards zoomed out a few more clicks. The two men recognized the location at the same time. The map showed state lines, and they both knew that there was only one place in the United States where straight lines for the borders of four states meet at a single point. “They got out, Bob. I don’t know how, but they got out.”
“You think Overman met the woman in Cortez?”
“I’d bet anything on it. Fuck! Bradshaw said he had the area sealed off, but obviously he didn’t. Get on the phone and tell him to get a chopper to Cortez right away. I want to know everything about every goddamn plane that’s flown out of that airport for the last three days. If he gives you any shit about outranking you, just remind him that I’m in charge here. You’re relaying my explicit orders.”
Zaborsky stood up to leave.
“One more thing, Colonel. When you talk to Colonel Bradshaw? Tell him to have his troops break out live ammunition.”
* * *
Day 32: Learning Distance
“Colonel Zaborsky? I’ve got some information.” It was three hours after Zaborsky’s meeting with Edwards, and Parsons waited hesitantly at the office doorway.
“Come in, Parsons.”
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but we’ve got progress on several fronts. Start with Colonel Bradshaw. You must have scared the shit out of him when you called. I mean I never got above the rank of sergeant, and he was treating me like I was a general or something. We got the passenger manifests for the only commercial flights. There’s only a couple a day, but nothing fits. We’ve identified all the passengers on the flights out of Cortez for the last three days, and we’re positive that the fugitives weren’t on any of them.”
“Shit.”
“But we also checked incoming flights earlier in the week. On Tuesday, the flight from Denver had a female passenger by the name of Sarah Wallingford.”
Zaborsky made a fist and smacked it into his other hand. “Good work. Have you traced her?”
“Not yet. I mean, not exactly. We got the name and address on her photo ID—but it’s a fake. A Virginia address that doesn’t exist.”
“That confirms our suspicions—she’s an agent. What about money? Did she pay with a credit card?”
“Yeah, but there’s no paper trail. It was a prepaid card.”
“Get a tracer on it. If she uses it again, I want to know about it. If the credit card company doesn’t want to cooperate, make damn sure they know this is a national security issue. These aren’t just suspicions anymore. We have the full weight of everything in the Patriot Act working for us now. Anybody gives you a hard time, just make sure they understand their choices. They can help us right off, or they can sit in a fucking cell while we convince them.”
“Will do, sir.” Parsons was starting to like this. He actually missed combat. And this was about as close as he was going to get right now.
“Did Bradshaw check private flights?”
“Yes sir. In the works. Only a few flights out of Cortez would fit. Small aircraft in every case.
We’ve got results for three so far. Two went to Albuquerque, one to Phoenix. All three check out, even with witnesses.”
“But there were other flights?”
“Just one. Some local guy. Another Indian. Calls his business Diné Charter Flights—little accent over the e, sounds like dee-nay. Bradshaw says it’s the Indian name for what the Navajos call themselves. Anyway, this pilot, name of Alvin Keeswood, left Cortez late yesterday afternoon. Everything last minute. Nobody saw any passengers, at least none they told our people about. Keeswood filed a flight plan to somewhere in Kansas. The locals in Cortez screwed up the paperwork.”
“Or maybe they’re just not cooperating. This terrorist ring is starting to look even bigger than we thought. Maybe these Navajos are still fighting the old Indian wars, and they’re taking it out on us. Somehow they got the Iranians to work with them, and now they’re trying to cut this virus loose on real Americans. Tell Bradshaw to get rough if he needs to. I want to know where that fucking plane
went.”
Parsons started to get up, but he remembered that he hadn’t brought up his second piece of information. “Oh, the other thing. We found the cell company for phone under the name of Sarah Wallingford and asked for all the calls, everything sent or received. Turns out there was only one other call, just before this call to the Post. Somebody in Atlanta, name of Frank Wirth.”
“Find out who he is.”
“We’re working on it. And there’s one more thing. The cell company asked us if we wanted reports on the other cell phone, too.”
“The other cell phone?”
“Yeah. Turns out that this Sarah Wallingford, the one we think is Sarah Lockford? She bought two phones in Denver, at the airport. We faxed the airport police in Denver a photograph of Sarah Lockford—the one we got that from her passport when we checked her apartment. The sales clerk made a positive I.D. She’s definitely the same person as Sarah Wallingford.”
“Has she used the other cell phone?”
“Not yet, Colonel. But the cell company knows to call us immediately with location and receiving number.”
“She’s smart, this Wallingford. Way too smart for a reporter. Watch your step with her, Parsons. And with Overman.”
By late Saturday morning in Cortez, the airport staff found the missing flight plan for Diné Charter Flights. The destination was Wakeeney, Kansas, but people there weren’t helpful, either. They confirmed that Keeswood’s plane landed at 9:00 p.m. local time on Friday and took off again on Saturday morning, but nobody saw any passengers. They did, however, provide the next destination according to the flight plan that Keeswood filed. It was Salem, Illinois.
Zaborsky’s staff discovered that the paperwork filed for arrival and departure from Salem showed two passengers on the plane, John and Mary Smith. Zaborsky was sure that his team was closing in on the fugitives.
When he learned at 2:30 p.m. Eastern Time that the final leg of the flight was to Leesburg, Virginia, Zaborsky called Parsons to his office. “Set up a team at the Leesburg airport, but stay out of sight until they land. Otherwise the tower could alert the pilot. They might try to land somewhere else if that happened, and we could lose them.”
* * *
Chapter 30
Sarah and Jake
The online behavior of a small but growing number of computer users in the United States is monitored by their Internet service providers, who have access to every click and keystroke that comes down the line.
—Washington Post, 2008‡
Day 32: West Virginia
The airplane touched down in Parkersburg at 6:30. When Alvin cut the engine, he announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to your final destination. We hope you’ve enjoyed flying with Diné Charter Flights.” He turned to them with a big grin.
“No problem changing our destination when I told them our fuel was low. Everyone always defers to the pilot. You two going to be okay now?”
“We’ll know in a few minutes,” Jake answered.
“I’ll get my plane refueled. I’ll check back with you before I take off.”
Jake led Sarah toward one of the buildings, stopping at a payphone. He handed her his cell phone, the one that had never been used. “Pretend you’re calling someone, and talk loud enough that anybody walking by wouldn’t notice I’m on the payphone.”
As they played their charade in the darkness, Jake quietly placed two calls—the first to directory assistance and the second to his uncle. He said little except that he was at the airport and needed a ride. He hung up quietly and turned toward Sarah.
In response, Sarah finished her own conversation. “Thanks Carol. We’ll see you out front in a few minutes.” They were already walking away from the building.
Anyone who might have overheard could report only that a woman whose name they didn’t know had used a cell phone to call someone called Carol, who was coming to meet the woman and her companion.
Jake and Sarah said their goodbyes to Alvin. “Thank you for helping us, Alvin. And please say thanks to Raymond for sending us to you.”
“I’ll do that. You two take care of yourselves. I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I know it’s not because you’re criminals. So whatever it is, I hope you can get through it okay.”
Jake and Sarah hefted their gear, and after Alvin gave them a salute, they headed toward the airport entrance.
They didn’t have to wait long. “That’s him, Sarah. The green Honda. It’s not much to look at, but he’s had it for years and keeps it in great shape. C’mon.” They climbed into the car, Jake into the front seat, where he shook hands with his uncle. “Hey, George! Thanks for coming to get us. This is Sarah. She’s a good friend.”
“Hi, Jake. And hi, Sarah. It’s good to meet you. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on here, Jake.”
“I’m sorry, George. It’s something I can’t talk about. At least, not now. It’s related to my work at CDC. I haven’t done anything wrong, at least not by my standards or yours. But there are some people who are looking for us, and we need to keep moving. I just need you to trust me on this.”
“Okay, son.” He hesitated. “After all, your mom is my little sister.”
“Then there’s one more favor I need to ask. Could I borrow your truck for a few days? We want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Of course you can. Want to come in and have dinner first? When I left for the airport, I told Mary not to put the food away.”
“George, we really …” Jake’s anxiety was showing.
“Okay, Jake. I understand. We’ll just put you in the truck as soon as we get to the house. You can tell me what this is all about later on. But at least let your Aunt Mary come out and give you a hug before you leave.”
“Thanks, George. It’s a deal. When I bring back the truck, I should be able to tell you the whole story.”
Twenty minutes later, Jake and Sarah were driving toward the house in Levels.
* * *
Day 33: Making Plans
They drove north past Romney, following the river valley of the South Branch of the Potomac, in the direction of Cumberland, Maryland. It was an hour later when Sarah spoke excitedly. “Up here, Jake. At the top of the hill—turn right. You’ll see a driveway. There, just past that reflector.”
Moments later, the light from their headlights showed in the front windows of the cabin. “We’re here Jake. We’re safe. Let’s get inside.”
Sarah found the house key in its hiding place on the side of the cabin and opened the door. It was chilly inside, and Sarah switched on the gas fireplace. “This will get things warm pretty fast, at least in this part of the house. Right now, we can get cleaned up. I feel like I’ve been in these clothes forever. Do you want to shower first, or should I?”
“You go ahead, Sarah. What can I do here to help out?”
Take a look in the freezer, and see if there’s anything for supper. Last time I was here there was some chili, but there may be something better.” She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “I’ll try not to use up all the hot water.”
Sarah thought that she had never felt such wonderfully warm water before in her life. It was absolutely luxurious. She stepped out of the shower and opened the small closet to find several towels, along with a large terrycloth robe. She used one of the towels to dry off and put on the robe, leaving the other towel on the counter for Jake.
“The bathroom’s all yours, Jake. You’ll love it. I haven’t felt this good in ages. Did you find anything in the freezer? Was there any more chili?”
“Something even better. This is beef bourguignon, so if your mom is any kind of cook, it’s going to be great.”
“If it’s beef bourguignon, it was my dad who made it, and he’s a good cook. You go ahead and shower. I’ll get this on the stove.” Sarah put the stew on a low light, and went into the main bedroom, where she found a pair of khakis and a wool shirt in the dresser. She figured that Jake was close enough
to her dad’s size that they would work for the time being. She opened the bathroom door and put them on a chair next to the doorway. “Here’s some clean clothes, Jake. They should fit okay.”
Returning to the main room, Sarah bent down next to the cabinet that held the dishes and glasses. And the wine rack. She selected a California cabernet sauvignon, and took two glasses from the cupboard. Then she went into the guest room and took the blanket and pillows from the bed. She spread the blanket out in front of the fireplace and dropped the pillows on top. She was standing there, enjoying the fire, when Jake emerged from the bathroom.
“You’re absolutely right, Sarah. I feel a million times better. And thanks for the clothes. They fit okay.”
Sarah looked over her shoulder at Jake, who was wearing just a towel. The thoughts she had been suppressing all day suddenly came to the surface. She untied her robe and let it fall open as she turned toward Jake. “Maybe you don’t need those clothes quite yet.”
They made love, slowly at first, but then with increasing passion and abandon. It wasn’t the first time in their relationship, but it felt that way to both of them. Afterward, they held each other closely, maintaining their embrace silently for a long time, and then they kissed gently. “I wish we could just stay like this, Sarah. If we can get through this, I want to always be with you. Someplace peaceful, like this.”
“We’ll get through it, Jake. We have to believe that. And being together … it sounds wonderful. A few more days. Then we’ll be able to think about the future. Right now, though, I’m hungry as hell. Let’s have some of that stew and some wine.”
When they finished their meal, Sarah put on a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater. “Let me show you what my dad left for me out here.” She sat at the desk, turning the chair toward the adjacent file cabinet and spinning the dial on the combination lock back and forth, until the drawer clicked open. She removed the file folder labeled “Sarah,” and pulled the plastic sleeve containing the remaining money from its envelope. She watched Jake’s eyes go wide as she slid the cash onto the desk.