Foreign Threat

by Mitchell Goldstein

  Steve stared at the screen. CIA! Jake told him not to trust anyone from the CIA.

  He wrote back, “I am sorry Sweetpea or agent whoever, but I need to go.”

  “STEVE!” she wrote back immediately. “Here is my home number 544-9130 and my cell 870-2244 just in case you need it. We already tracked you to the public library, and they can too. If you’ll just stay where you are, I will have agents over there in just a moment. Steve, don’t move!”

  Steve quickly copied the numbers and signed out of his email account. He needed to get the heck out of there, but first he needed to see the Path report. He logged into the hospital system and entered his code and password. He didn’t want to analyze whether CIA queen Sweetpea was on his side or not.

  He typed in Ziamuddin’s name and found nothing. Steve gritted his teeth with frustration. He quickly looked up the date of the surgery but found no path for that entire night or the next day with that kid’s name. Whatever that mass was never made it to pathology.

  Steve knew he didn’t have time to contemplate this problem here. He signed off and rushed downstairs to the main lobby of the library. He cautiously checked the lobby but found it clear of dark trench coats, so he bolted to his car. At the door, he nearly bumped into two teenage girls talking. Steve overheard one saying, “Don’t worry about that homework. I already did it, and it is in my locker at school. I can get it before class tomorrow.”

  Steve stopped in his tracks for a second but then remembered he had to get out of there. He ran to his car, and as he shut the door, he saw several SUVs pull up to the front door of the library. As he watched from the safety of his new stolen car, he saw two more black SUVs pull into the back parking lot. They were a different shade from the ones at the front door, and they slowly pulled through the parking lot but left without talking to the agents in the front.

  This was all too weird for Steve. Why would the cars bother coming at all if they weren’t going to check inside? Why didn’t they talk to each other? They may have been communicating via cell phones or radio transmission, but it just didn’t make sense. Why were the vehicles different?

  Steve started the car and realized that he might want to get a new car soon. His neighbor would probably be home soon and notice the missing Corvette. However, now was not the time to get out and walk.

  As he drove off, his mind drifted to the conversation between the two girls. It seemed to trigger something in the back of his mind. He tried to recall why he would have heard about homework or lockers.

  He drove about fifteen miles out of town before parking the car to think. He decided to just call his neighbor. The poor guy would never believe the whole story. Steve dialed information for the number.

  “Hello?”

  Steve recognized the guy’s voice but started to sweat.

  “Hello, hello?”

  “Dan? Hi. This is Steve Carmichael.”

  “Hey, how’s it going, Steve? You know, we haven’t seen you too much. I think you are working a little too hard.”

  Steve replied, “You’re probably right, Dan. Hey, listen. I have a huge favor to ask. Can I borrow your Corvette tonight?”

  “Sorry, ol’ buddy, but I have some bad news. I just pulled in, and I think I was robbed. They must have been hungry ’cause they raided my fridge and took off with my Corvette.”

  “I am sorry to hear about that. Did you call the police yet?”

  “No. I just walked in. That was going to be my next step.”

  Steve’s voice started to crack. “Dan, let me help you out with that. I really don’t have time to explain all the details, but I can tell you for a fact that your car is safe. I took it. But I can explain! I just can’t explain it right now. It really is important that you not report it. Otherwise, frankly, I think I might get killed.”

  Dan interrupted abruptly, “What kind of trouble are you in, son? Maybe I can help.”

  “Dan, I appreciate the offer, but I think that would put you in a lot of danger. Remember all those people who have died at the University Hospital in the last week or so? I am next on the list. I needed some wheels to escape, and my car ended up in the lake. I can’t explain much more, but please trust me that I

  will bring back your Corvette!”

  “Alright, Carmichael, but you be careful! You hear?”

  “Thanks, Dan. I really appreciate it. If any one comes snooping around, don’t mention this conversation. Whatever you do, don’t say you talked to me. That would put you and your family in grave danger. Talk to you soon. Thanks again.”

  Steve hung up thinking that the conversation had gone surprisingly well. Next, he had to figure out why those girls’ conversation was bugging him. He turned the motor off, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  After about a minute, his eyes snapped open, and he felt his heart in his throat. He said to himself, “Milo-Kerr, Milo-Kerr.” Then he drew it out, “Mi-lo-Kerr.” He said that a few more times and realized what he was thinking had to be true. The last few words from Jake were Mi-locker. Steve had thought it was a name of somebody, but it was Jake trying to say my locker…his locker. Steve started the car and turned around. He had to see what was in Jake’s locker.

  Chapter 37

  Steve knew that going back to the hospital was outrageously dangerous, but he had to see what was in the locker. It had to be important or else Jake wouldn’t have wasted his last few breaths on those words. As he drove, Steve tried to put together why Jake was involved with the CIA and why he didn’t trust them.

  Steve pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, and all seemed normal. No SUVs were parked around the entrance or the emergency room entrance, suggesting that all agents had made their way to another part of town. Nonetheless, Steve chose a parking space up close to the building in case he needed to take off quickly.

  He hoped not to bump into anyone he knew, like Sally or Erica. However, he needed to go through the OR to reach the locker, and he would surely run into a few staff members who would want to know what the hell was going on. Steve made a promise to himself just to say hi and continue with his business.

  He took the stairs to avoid any elevator conversations, but it was hard to ignore the memory of that last time he had used that shortcut. He went straight to the OR. As he walked through the doors, he tried to look too busy for anyone to bother.

  To Steve’s astonishment, the OR was relatively quiet. No nurses or staff were in the vicinity. Steve quickly glanced at the clock and realized it was way after hours for the regular staff. He had been so busy most of the day that he hadn’t realized it was coming to an end.

  Steve made his way to the locker room to find Jake’s

  locker. In his eagerness to find out what was inside, Steve forgotten that he had no way to get past the lock. He took a chance and tried to open it, but no such luck.

  Steve looked around for a paper clip to pick the lock without a key. He absentmindedly thought, You already burglarized a house and stole a car – why not continue this delinquent behavior and pick a lock? He looked around and pulled on the locker handle again. As he did so, a voice nearly sent him to the moon.

  This time it wasn’t a calm gentle voice of a librarian. “Dr. Douglass always kept his key on top of his locker. I think that way he always knew where it was.”

  It was Joe, the nighttime janitor.

  As startled as he was, Steve offered gratuity. “Thanks, Joe. I just needed to get some books that Dr. Douglas left for me.” Steve didn’t want the janitor to think that he was breaking into a dead man’s locker.

  “No problem, Dr. Carmichael. His locker has been very popular today.”

  Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The day janitors said some creepy looking guys were asking where Dr. Douglas’s locker was. Of course they didn’t tell them, just pointed them in the direction of Human Resources.”

  “Did they ever get in to his locker?” asked Steve.

  “Not as far as I know.” Joe turned back
to his work. “I’ll see ya later. Have a good night, Dr. Carmichael.”

  “Good night, Joe.” Steve reached for the key. Whoever was after him must want whatever was in Jake’s locker. Maybe if he gave it to them, they would back off.

  That was how a normal person would think, but he was dealing with some bad people. They probably would do what

  they did to A.J. and the others to him anyway.

  Sweat was building up on Steve’s forehead as he placed the key into the lock and turned it. His hands were shaking, and his

  heart was racing as he opened the door.

  Nothing stood out as different from any other locker. A backpack, some clothes, and a few books.

  Steve was confused. What was the big deal about this locker? Whatever those agents sought, they would surely be disappointed.

  He brushed through the items on the top shelf, which were just goggles and masks for surgery. He checked the pockets of a pair of pants and found a wallet with a few bucks. He looked down at the bottom of the locker and noticed Jake’s shoes and the backpack. He knew that the shoes couldn’t be too exciting, so he turned his attention to the backpack. He bent down and nervously opened it.

  Steve gasped. He quickly looked up to see if anyone else was around. He turned back to the contents of the backpack. He reached in and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills. He reached again and pulled out another handful of bills. The entire backpack was filled with them. Steve guessed there were several hundred thousand dollars, if not more.

  No wonder those guys were after Jake. Maybe Jake stole this cash or was in bad with gambling. There were a number of possibilities, but Steve didn’t want to waste time in a smelly locker room trying to figure it out. He quickly went through the pockets of the backpack just to see if there was anything else that was important. In the second pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper with an account number to a bank in Argentina. He quickly placed it in his own pocket, closed the backpack, and stepped toward the door.

  “I am glad you did all the foot work for us, Dr. Carmichael,” said a deep voice as four men in black trench coats entered through the door to the locker room. “My men and I have been trying to hunt down my backpack all day. Thank you for finding it for me.” He smiled. “I am sorry, Steve. Let me introduce myself. I am Agent Thomas with the CIA.” He reached out his hand.

  Steve hesitantly offered his own hand, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw the starphire ring on Agent Thomas’s hand. It was the same ring that Steve saw on the man in the hallway with Jake. He remembered the sparkle. Sally had thought he was a lawyer, but Steve didn’t think he had the look of an attorney. Steve was right.

  He was in a tough spot with no place to run. Agent Thomas and his friends didn’t appear to be so friendly. Whether they really worked for the CIA or not, there were definitely more of them, and they were much bigger than Steve. He tried to remain practical for a moment while the apparent leader was making bogus introductions. He realized he needed to use this unpleasant encounter to his advantage and gain as much information as possible.

  “Steve, if you would be so kind as to hand over the backpack, that would be greatly appreciated. Then my associates and I will be on our way,” Agent Thomas concluded.

  Steve stalled by asking, “Sir, could you please show me your ID? I am sure Jake and you had some agreement, but I really don’t know you at all. The contents in this backpack were very special to Jake. He made a special request when he was dying in the stairwell, and I don’t want to dishonor his memory.”

  “What a good friend you are to be so careful! Jake spoke

  very highly of you, and now I know why.” While the man

  spoke, he reached inside his coat pocket.

  Uncertain what the guy was reaching for, Steve took a few steps back.

  “Here it is, my friend.” Agent Thomas showed Steve his

  CIA badge.

  It appeared to be kosher. Thomas then pulled his coat back under the disguise of replacing his ID, but the motion provided a glimpse of the revolver that was stowed in his shoulder harness.

  Steve took a deep breath, trying to control the panicky feeling in his chest. He could feel his heart pounding wildly and wondered if the other men could sense it. “So what do you think Jake had in here that makes it yours?” Steve asked with more confidence than he felt.

  Thomas stared at him. “Dr. Carmichael, while I appreciate your concern for the contents, I don’t think you should play games with me. Frankly, we have had a terrible week. You really don’t want us to take out our frustration out on you, but if you keep this up, you will leave me with no choice. Do I make myself clear, doctor?”

  “Sir, I understand perfectly,” Steve replied. “But I promised Dr. Douglas that I would take care of the contents in his backpack.”

  Thomas sighed. “Now I know why Jake spoke so highly of you. You are a devoted friend. That is a noble quality, but in this instance, your devotion to your dead friend is a mistake! Let me rephrase my request here.” He tried to make the atmosphere a little less threatening by sitting down.

  Steve watched him move, and he moved as though in a lot of pain. Steve also noticed the other men appeared to be Middle Eastern, not American agents. Steve wondered if the CIA often outsourced their missions.

  Once sitting comfortably, Thomas began to speak again. “Sorry, Steve. I’m moving kind of slow these days. I have been a little sore since that prostate came out. They found cancer and had to yank that little thing out. Too bad ’cause things don’t work the way they used to, if you know what I mean. Now let’s get back to business. Steve, you are holding a backpack with a shit load of money that belongs to me, and I want it. Please don’t try my patience anymore.”

  Steve could see that his plan was coming to an abrupt end. He needed to come up with another plan and fast. Just as he was about to try stalling a second time, the locker room doors swung open. The four agents looked over their shoulders to see who was walking in. Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve ran with the backpack toward the door to the OR. He had only a split-second advantage, but Thomas motioned for his colleagues to stay calm and walk out of the locker room calmly to avoid attracting unneeded attention.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” said Thomas as they crossed paths with the entering staff. “Just looking for a friend, but I think he took off into the operating rooms. We will just wait for him out in the lobby.” The four men made their way to the front of the OR to catch Steve on his way out.

  Little did they know, Steve had taken the back stairs and was already running through the cafeteria toward the parking lot. Once through the doors outside, he slowed to a brisk walk. He saw black SUVs all over. He took one glance at his borrowed car and knew he was in trouble. Several people were standing in front of his car. One guy was nodding his head as he talked on his cell phone. “Yes, sir. We have the perimeter secured. I will make sure he doesn’t escape, sir.”

  The man talking on the phone glanced up and noticed

  Steve. “There he is! Apprehend him now! Freeze!”

  Steve dashed frantically toward the city bus that had just pulled away from the hospital shelter. He jumped onto the first step of the bus and pulled himself through the open door. He looked back and saw his pursuers stop in their tracks. They were putting their guns back into their holsters, giving up the chase to avoid public casualties.

  As Steve continued to watch, he noticed that several of them were jumping into cars and falling in line behind the bus. He heard tires screech even over the bus’s engine and realized that they would trail the bus until he got out. He had to make a move before they caught up.

  The bus made its first turn, and the cars still were not directly behind the bus. Steve needed to get out without waiting for a regular stop. He tried desperately to make a plea to the bus driver. “I am so sorry, sir, but I made a bad mistake. I meant to jump on the 175 not the 54. Could you please let me out here?”

  “Are you joking?” laughed the
bus driver. “I can’t stop the bus for every mistake people make. I can let you off at Elliot Street and 36th, and you should be able to pick up the 175 there, okay?”

  “No, it is not okay!” Steve screamed frantically. “I need to get out NOW!”

  “Settle down, kid. We’ll be there in just a few minutes,” responded the driver.

  Steve looked back and still didn’t see the cars. He needed to make a move immediately. He thought quickly and then shouted, “Let me out now or I will blow this bus up! Yeah, I’ve got a bomb in this backpack. Don’t make me do it!” He made a motion with the pack.

  The bus driver took one look at Steve and slammed on the

  brakes. Purses and bags went flying. An elderly lady fell forward and hit her head on the seat in front of her. People started to scream, but Steve didn’t notice. His eyes were watching out the back of the bus: still no SUVs.

  Before the bus came to a complete stop, Steve jumped off the bottom step and ran into the nearest store. He watched through the windows the bus started rolling again. Not more than twenty seconds went by before a train of black SUVs went speeding by. After what seemed to be the caboose, Steve took a deep breath.

  He turned around and realized that he was in a clothing retail store. He looked at the store clerk who was staring at him with panic in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not what you think,” said Steve. “Do you have a back door to this store?”

  The young lady was so scared that she didn’t say a thing. She nodded her head and pointed to the door that led to the alley.

  After a quick thank you, Steve disappeared through the back as fast as he had burst into the front.

  Chapter 38

  The phone rang just as expected. Though reluctant to pick it up, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He reached for the phone and picked up the receiver with shaky hands. His nervous trembling caused his ring to clank against the phone. “Hello?”