“Got it, although I don’t know how long I’ll last before they figure it out.”
They hug and Amanda takes the elevator to her room as Heather returns to the party. She gained some new admirers throughout the evening, including David, Adam, Taylor, and some other Middleburg Academy graduates from the year ahead of her class, whose names she can’t recall. At about 1:00 a.m., the DJ announces the final song and they close down the party. They all say their goodbyes and invite Heather to meet them for Sunday brunch.
Heather is thankful she only needs to remember her room number and find the elevators.
Chapter 76
Sit Tight
The two black Escalade SUVs occupy the middle of the covered hotel portico, awaiting Amanda for the trip back to Crossroads. One undercover FBI agent stands waiting, his ubiquitous earbud and clear coiled wire visible from his left ear, two others wait in the driver’s seats.
Amanda opens her hotel room door around 10:45 a.m. and nods at the FBI agent down the hall, perched in an uncomfortable chair near the elevators. Feeling casual after the night of formality, Amanda is wearing a pair of large sunglasses, a worn UVA hoodie, gray leggings, and the cross-body purse Daytime D.C. provided, and she is carrying a small duffel for her clothing. She and the agent ride the elevator down to the lobby and walk out under the portico. She says hello to the other agent who opens the rear door for her.
The two SUVs pull away from the hotel and down the horseshoe drive, but suddenly the entourage slows to a crawl and stops on the right side of the street, hardly a block away.
The driver turns to the agent in the back seat of the SUV beside Amanda.
“Solarez wants us to check her for identification. Let’s have a look at your ID.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Amanda replies, and clutches the purse lying next to her with the strap still over her shoulder.
The agent in the back seat says, “Can you please show us your ID? We have direct orders not to go any further until you do.”
Amanda grasps her purse now with two hands, but the agent beside her reaches for it also. They momentarily tussle over it before the agent wrenches it away from her and unclasps the top. He digs through its contents and locates her driver’s license, which he pulls out and reads aloud, “Heather Lasting, from New York.”
“Dammit, Solarez was right.” He presses on his earbud, “Code red, we’re heading back to the hotel with Heather Lasting. We need to find Amanda.”
Both SUVs turn on their blue and red grill flashers and do 180s, tires screeching.
“It’s just a prank, we were going to fool the Crossroads staff,” Heather tries to explain, but the agents are not buying it.
As soon as their vehicles squeal to a stop, all four agents burst out and sprint toward the hotel. The one who rummaged through her purse for the ID yells to her over his shoulder, “Sit tight!”
She waits for a moment to make sure no one is coming back for her, then stuffs the purse in her duffel bag and runs full tilt toward Foggy Bottom.
Chapter 77
Exiting
Out of breath from the dash away from the hotel, Amanda pulls open the heavy glass doors at the Executive Board Company office building on the corner of M Street Northwest and 25th. She’s not sure why Ryan picked this place. As she approaches the banks of elevators on both sides of the lobby, she sees a man sitting on a padded bench on the opposite end. It's Ryan, but he looks decidedly different in a tan sports coat and off-white button-down shirt, and his hair is now jet black rather than dirty blond. As he directed, she's wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up and a pair of sunglasses. He's on his feet by the time she nears the bench, walking down the hall to the left, and she falls in step behind him. He pushes open the door to the women's room and she follows him inside.
"Anyone in here?" His male voice sounds out of place echoing off the walls of the women's restroom.
No response. He turns the thumb bolt on the door and drops a small duffle bag on the floor at her feet.
“Change into these. They’ve had too much time to mark you in what you’re wearing.”
“Who?”
“The FBI, your brother’s kidnappers, whoever is after your dad, take your pick.”
She picks up the duffel and heads toward one of the two stalls, but Ryan stops her.
"Nope, change right here. I have to study every part of your body.”
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Do it."
She gives him a stone-cold stare before reluctantly taking off her hoodie and short-sleeve shirt. Then she unbuttons her jeans and wriggles out of them, leaving her completely exposed other than her bra and pink thong. He pulls a pair of jeans, bra, shirt, and shoes out of the duffel and looks at her.
"Take your bra off."
She unhooks the front clasp between her breasts and the bra drops to the floor with her other clothes. He examines every part of her body like a dermatologist doing a complete cancer scan, walking behind her, lifting up her hair, looking carefully at her neck, inside and behind each ear. He searches her scalp with his fingertips for any raised surfaces and finds none. Then kneels down and studies her bottom half just as thoroughly.
Amanda is shaking, both from the cold and the humiliation of being subjected to Ryan’s obsessive inspection.
"The shoes and the socks need to go too.”
"You do it," she insists, trying to regain at least the slightest control of the situation. She lifts one foot followed by the other and he pulls off her socks and shoes.
"Slide the thong down so I can see all the fabric."
She slides the thong partially down her thighs, holding both sides.
"Satisfied?"
He feels through the fabric in the crotch and finds nothing.
"Okay, it's fine."
She slides it back up. “Happy now that you sexually harassed me for no good reason?”
“Trust me, it was for a very good reason.”
He sees the hamsa necklace around her neck, the only item of jewelry she is wearing.
"You can't bring that. Could be tracked.”
"I have to. You don’t understand—"
"What I understand is it could be used as a tracking device. The tiniest sliver of metal can be used by someone who knows what they’re doing. It can't come."
"My dad gave it to me, and it's how they identified me after the crash. It would be seriously bad karma not to bring it."
“Bullshit. I don’t believe in karma, we determine our own fate. Hide it in here somewhere, and when we get back from the mission you can come get it.”
He fishes around in his duffel bag and finds a small baggie and hands it to her. She grudgingly removes the hamsa and puts it in the bag, then surveys the bathroom for a spot to hide it. She opens the cabinet under the sink, feels around, and finds a little crevice where she can leave the necklace.
“Okay, its hidden.”
"The clothes should fit.” Ryan says, trying to be more accommodating after making her strip down and leave her necklace behind.
Amanda gets dressed in the new outfit. Ryan hands her a pair of slip-on lightweight running shoes with no laces.
"Not bad on the shoes. Did a woman pick these out for you?"
He doesn't answer her. "There's a surveillance cam in the lobby, so we're going to walk out separately. I'm going to dump your old clothing in the trash can in the men's room and we'll meet down the block toward 25th.”
Ryan's arm is up as soon as they meet on the corner, and within 30 seconds a cab pulls over. He opens the door for her and slides in next to her.
"McKee's American Pub in Manassas, 9812 Main Street.”
The cabbie plugs the address into his GPS.
"Got it man," the cabbie says, then finds the local news channel and puts his ear buds in.
Ryan whispers to Amanda, “This pub is less than a mile from the airport. We're taking a charter jet from here to Toronto. If the pilot wants to chit chat, we’re scout
ing locations for a movie. You shouldn't have trouble remembering what it’s about. It's about a girl who has altered genes and may be immortal."
"Very funny."
"Anyway, I'm Roger, one of the executive producers, and you're my assistant, Rachel."
Amanda rolls her eyes and looks at the fake passport he hands to her.
Ryan continues in a low whisper, “We'll be going from the municipal airport to Toronto Pearson International. After changing disguises, we'll board a Cathay Pacific jet with our Canadian passports and visas to Hong Kong. We're IT techs, we design server networks, and are in China to help coordinate the servers between a Beijing company and its subsidiaries in other parts of China. Once we arrive in Hong Kong, we’ll take a passenger ferry, where you normally need to clear customs, but most likely, we’re going to jump ship and swim to a dock. This is one of the riskier parts of the operation. Once we’re back on land, we'll have supplies in a locker that my contact left for us, including additional clothing and weapons. Questions?"
“Plenty, but I won’t start asking them yet."
Chapter 78
Manassas Regional
The Chantilly Aviation Dassault Falcon 10 streaks down the municipal runway and lifts off from Manassas Regional Airport. The flight attendant asks Roger and Rachel if either of them want a drink. She and the pilot form the entire crew.
"I'd like a cup of tea, any hot tea you have," Ryan looks over at Amanda.
"Just a water for me."
As the attendant walks toward the plane’s tiny galley for their drinks, Amanda reclines her chair and falls asleep within seconds. The charity event and the stress of the mission have drained every bit of energy from her body.
"Don’t tell me she disappeared! She can't vanish!” Solarez shouts at the analyst.
"She was at the charity event where our agents were on her around the clock. She went to bed at the hotel that night and got in our car the next morning to head back to the farm. When you contacted us with your suspicions about her being the doppelganger, we found the ID for Heather Lasting in her purse and returned to the hotel to find Ms. Michaels. But they had switched IDs, and the person we had in the car was the real Ms. Michaels. By the time we located Ms. Lasting in the hotel and realized our mistake, Ms. Michaels was gone.”
"Incredible. How could we be so inept?”
"Sorry sir, she pulled a fast one on us. At least we can track her.”
"Right. How long will that take?"
"A matter of minutes. I’ll get some analysts on it."
Solarez storms into the ready room.
"What’ve we got on Michaels?" he roars.
"We've tracked the signal to an office at 25th and M Street, sir.”
"Okay, send two plainclothes agents to that building pronto. What’s in there?” he asks, peering over the analyst’s shoulder at a bird’s eye view on his monitor.
"The Executive Board Company, some kind of think tank or professional advisory firm."
"Connect me with the two agents on site so we can communicate as soon as they enter."
Five minutes later, the agents arrive. One provides real-time video feed through a small recorder attached to his lapel as they walk through the lobby. The other agent holds a device that he studies while they walk past the elevators and head to the left down a hallway.
“It looks like she’s in the ladies’ room."
They knock, announce their intent to enter, then open the door. The video shows two stalls, two sinks, a soap dispenser, and a hand-dryer, but no one inside. The agent checks the tracking device again and opens the cabinet under the sinks. He feels around and finds the baggie with the hamsa. Solarez sees it on the monitor and sighs.
"Well, we know they were here. And with the way the necklace was hidden, it looks like she had plenty of time to think about it, so this probably isn’t a kidnap situation.”
Solarez studies a map on another monitor.
"What’s near there, a subway or train station?"
"The Foggy Bottom Metro Station is closest,” one analyst replies.
"Send two more agents. I want you two to canvass every taxi cab company that services DC to see if any of them picked up a man and woman fitting Ty Ryan’s and Amanda Michaels’ descriptions. They would never use Uber since it requires a credit card. Cash-paying customers, that's who we're looking for."
Solarez paces back and forth. Where could they be headed? He thinks. No. She wouldn't be crazy enough to try to travel all the way there, would she?
"Put agents at Washington Reagan National Airport, Dulles, and Baltimore Washington International. Make sure they have photos of the targets. All TSA agents should be alerted as well. And I want twelve analysts working on this.”
Solarez rubs his thumb and fingers over his chin. "Does Amanda Michaels own a U.S. passport?"
"Yes, but it hasn't been used, at least not yet."
"Well that's not reassuring."
"Sir, she wouldn't be dumb enough to use it, would she?”
“True, especially if she’s with Ryan. Contact the CIA director and ask him to send an agent to Beijing."
"Sir, in three days the North Korean leader is visiting China's President in Beijing. You don't think—?"
"The timing is significant?"
"Yes sir."
“I certainly hope not."
Chapter 79
Sherwood
Guards on either side of the convoy clear the three vehicles through security and allow them entry to the compound grounds. In the back seat of the last black bulletproof limousine, CIA Director Isaacson turns to look at Solarez.
"I want you to stick around after my talk today and meet with these guys individually. This is where we’ll get our leads."
Isaacson stands beside the small speaker's lectern in the room where the Dirty Dozen presents their lab findings each week. He hopes his more casual stance will personalize his message and make this highly-intelligent but socially awkward group of researchers more comfortable with having the director of the CIA in their meeting room. He also knows they consider Ron Michaels a friend in addition to being their boss and are highly concerned about his disappearance.
"I’m sure you’re worried about Ron Michaels, and I want you to know we are mobilizing at every level of the agency and working with FBI counter-intelligence to find out where he’s been taken. And I say ‘taken’ because I’m sure he didn’t leave on his own volition. He disappeared during a special outing with his son and their nanny in Annapolis, actually, it was the Disney Day parade, and he hasn’t been heard from since.”
Isaacson knows about Justin Michaels too, but doesn’t think Ron’s employees need to know about that troubling part of the investigation.
“You realize he was coordinating all the work we’re doing, right?" Fletcher asks.
What Fletcher doesn’t mention is his evening rendezvous with Monica at the hotel. He’s starting to freak out about his secret transgressions, especially now that the government will likely be examining everything with a fine-toothed comb. He’s been ultra-careful and doubts any investigation would ever detect the minuscule amount of blood he’s been ‘borrowing’ from the lab, but he’s still worried to death.
“Yeah, Ron was the glue here.” Kabo adds.
"Which brings me to the next piece of business. We're placing Walston in charge of your research. He will be your glue, until we can bring Ron Michaels back.”
Like a half-listening, half-dozing kid in class who gets called on, Walston jerks to attention, a reddish tint spreading over his cheeks.
"Huh?"
"Yes Walston, you now hold the reins, and we’ll give you access to Ron’s data. All of you need to pull together. The work you’re doing was approved by the president, and he’s expecting me to provide regular progress reports to his national security team.”
Walston thinks to himself, No one asked me if I wanted this assignment, before responding. "But once you find Ron, he'll return and lead the remainin
g testing, right?”
“Of course. Now, you're probably wondering about this gentleman beside me, so let me introduce him.” Isaacson gestures toward a chair at the front of the room occupied by Steve Solarez. “This is Agent Solarez with FBI counterintelligence, and he’s heading up the investigation into Ron's abduction, which is going to involve all of you. There might be something you know or something you saw that could help lead us to his abductors. So, I'm going to ask you each to talk to him informally after this meeting, and he’ll follow up with you as necessary. Would you like to say a few words, Agent Solarez?"
Solarez stands up to address everyone. "I want to echo what Director Isaacson just told you. You guys might hold the key to a lead. No tip, no unusual detail, is too minor. We want to consider everything, no matter how small or trivial it seems. This is the preliminary phase of the investigation.”
“Are you going to subject us to polygraph tests or something?” Fletcher is half-joking, half-terrified.
“We’re not intending to polygraph everyone at this time. However, as you were advised when you accepted this classified work, you can all be subjected to polygraph at any time.”
Solarez sits in the small conference room at a round table in one of the four chairs. The walls are bare, except for a single picture of Albert Einstein standing at a lectern, delivering some famous lecture, he presumes. He looks back at Walston, the first researcher he’s questioning.
“That old photo of Einstein, where was that taken?”
“I have no idea.” Walston is way more nervous about his new “acting chief” role than Solarez recognizes.
"It appears to the intelligence agents and analysts who reviewed the data, including emails here at the lab, that you enjoyed a relationship with Ron Michaels. Would you agree?"
Targeting the Telomeres, A Thriller Page 22