Hashtag Rogue

by Chautona Havig

  “Well, the next time I had contact, I didn’t realize it was from him. I got back in my car after getting coffee at Java the Hut and found an envelope on my seat. Eight by ten pictures of my wife getting her nails done, washing the dishes, jogging. That one was obviously taken from inside a car. The driver could have swerved—” He shuddered. “They were all like that. A long, metal nail file at the manicurist’s, a knife on the counter waiting to be washed…”

  Keith’s gut twisted. It’d be enough to make any man do anything. “Just your wife?”

  A nod. “That time. A couple of weeks later, another one appeared. Alyssa at cheer practice—flying in the air and in a toppled heap when a pyramid went wrong. She was laughing in both, but the pictures weren’t funny. On the school bus… from inside the bus. Crossing in a crosswalk. Talking to a man. Someone who seemed sort of familiar, but…”

  “Bill Vering?”

  Another nod. Brent hung his head in his hands and shuddered. “I knew after he contacted me again. He came right into Java, seated himself at my table, and asked if I remembered him. Just as I started to say yes, I really remembered.”

  Mark stood and went to the micro kitchen at one end of the cabin. A minute later, the scent of coffee filled the plane. Brent just sat there wringing his hands, and Keith wondered if Mark wasn’t being just a little cruel. However, when the mug appeared before the man, he wrapped his hands around it as if desperate for the warm comfort.

  “This time, he just jerked his head at Erika and said, ‘She’s a person of interest. All you have to do is sit in your car and watch her. That’s all. An hour a day—different times.’”

  Corey sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped, Brent!”

  “I still don’t know what you did, Corey! What job? We all thought you were in some top-secret government clearance thing, where you’d have to kill us if you told us. So, we never asked.”

  With that, Brent closed off. He brooded into his mug, staring at the depths as if it held some murky secret that would solve all problems. Keith knew better.

  More coffee appeared, and as if some sort of subtle trigger, Brent began talking again. “That’s all I did for ages. And then he appeared and said I had to start calling this old guy from a phone he gave me. The stuff he made me say… the letters he made me mail. They were…”

  Only the high, airy, vacuum-like whine of the engines broke the perfect quiet of the cabin. Corey looked ready to explode, but she took her cue from Mark and kept silent. Keith just watched. Everything the guy said fit… and his body language did, too.

  “Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got a call. This was from someone else—southern accent, I think. Weird one, though—nothing like I’ve ever heard before. I think it was affected. Anyway, she said for me to drive up and down Rosewood in Rockland. To follow a certain car. Stay back. Don’t be seen. Just follow.”

  Keith stared at Mark. The man nodded. “Flynne. She was staying at the house of the woman they had Brent pretend to be.”

  For a moment there, Brent looked ready to retch. “You’re—that’s—sick. That’s just sick!”

  “So, you did.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but Bill called and said my daughter looked really good in her cheerleader’s outfit. That men—” He shook as he tried to take a sip of the still-hot coffee. It splashed everywhere. “Men would pay—”

  “You don’t have to finish. We get it.” Mark said his name several times until Brent looked up. “I would have done the same thing. And I’m glad you listened.”

  “They took her anyway! They took my baby girl! They—I don’t know what they did to her!”

  Corey stood and wrapped arms around him. “They didn’t do anything. She got away.”

  After clearing his throat, Keith shook his head and eyed the vacant chair. Corey made a silent protest. He scowled. A moment later, she dropped into the chair, obviously confused. Mark nodded before asking, “What did Bill say after that?”

  “Told me there’d be a packet for me to drop off—to give to a girl, Liv Todd. He asked me to take a good look at her—tell him what I thought of her. Would men pay well for her? That kind of thing. When I took it to the girl, I tried to warn her off. Told her to watch herself. That was right before I left for St. Louis.”

  The man looked ready to fall apart. Every word that took him closer to the bridge incident made him more despondent, more jittery, more… everything. Mark must have noticed, too, because he picked up the narrative. “From there, I might be able to guess. Stop me where I’m wrong.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You got a call at some point, telling you where to find them and to follow them wherever they went but to stay back. Either that time or another, you were also informed that your daughter had been taken, and the police considered you a prime suspect.”

  A nod.

  “After that, an actual address came through—and a license plate. Then a command to kill or your daughter would be sold.”

  Another nod.

  “You should know that by that point your daughter had already gotten away.”

  Brent sagged for a moment, obviously relieved, and then tremors started in his hands. He tried to pick up the mug again, sloshed some on the table, and set it back down. Hands rubbed against his legs. He gripped the arms of the chair. Twice, he tried to speak and couldn’t.

  Mark took pity. “You had no way of knowing that. If she hadn’t, and you hadn’t—”

  “I—” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I was willing to hurt other men’s daughters to spare mine. What kind of person—?”

  Corey shushed him. “A daddy who loves his girls. That’s who.”

  “She’s right, Brent. I can’t say it’s right, but I don’t think there’s a father alive who wouldn’t understand why.”

  Keith snickered. “Maybe Erika’s.” He shot Brent an apologetic look. “Tom Polowski doesn’t have emotions. No anger, no fear, no affection—not like most people do. Physical responses to life but not emotional ones. Logic all the way.”

  As if he didn’t hear Keith, Brent stared down Mark. “My family is safe, right? I’ll go to prison if I have to. It’s only fair. But if they aren’t—”

  “You’re not going to prison, and your family is safe. I’ve got Flynne working on new identities and backgrounds now. She’ll probably want to know what area of the country you’d like.”

  For a moment, Keith thought Brent would say California. His mouth formed the shape, the “Ca—” released, and then he clamped it shut. Closed his eyes. Glanced over at his sister. Looked back at Mark. “Does it have to be in the states?”

  “No… if it’s affordable, we’ll do it.”

  “Why?”

  The question wasn’t unreasonable. In fact, they’d all probably expected it. But right then seemed odd. Mark, however, just sat there. Waiting.

  “Seriously. Why are you doing this? I hurt your people.”

  “Brent,” Mark began. “My job is to ensure the bad guys don’t win. If you get out safe, if your family is safe and happy, they lose. That’s why.”

  “Spain,” Brent said at last. “Marci’s always wanted to have a vacation home in Spain. I speak Spanish—could teach English in schools there. She could teach exercise classes. The girls could have a European high school experience before moving into their own lives.”

  Mark nodded. “Spain it is.”

  Thirty

  The small airport at Marshfield meant less traffic and a quicker getaway to the Harbinger apartment. A white Yukon sat waiting just off the tarmac, ready for them. Before they exited the plane, Mark pulled three guns from his attaché case and passed one to Keith and one to Corey. “Probably overkill, but better that than dead.”

  Corey checked hers twice and stuffed it in the back of her waistband. “That’ll teach me not to wear a holster. Yikes!”

  Keith agreed. Still, he pulled on a sweatshirt with a front pocket and kept one hand in the pocket with the gun—sl
ightly safer.

  Mark’s went inside his suit jacket pocket.

  The cabin phone rang. Mark jerked it up and asked the captain what the trouble was. An unfamiliar voice came through. “I want The Agency.”

  “What?” It was an idiotic response, but Mark couldn’t help it.

  “You heard me. I want it. Five million is my opening offer.”

  Mark tried not to laugh. “It’s not for sale.”

  Foul words exploded through the handset. Keith, standing six feet away, winced. Corey pulled her gun from her pants and held it ready.

  “Ten. I want The Agency.”

  “I heard something about people in hot places wanting ice water. Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it.”

  Laughter followed. “You are such a fool.”

  It had to be Bill Vering. “Look, Vering.”

  “The offer stands—indefinitely. The inducements, however… those will go up.” The phone clicked.

  Mark pulled out his phone and called Tyler. “I hate to do it, but you get Flynne to help you do everything you can to get the Knupps’ identities done yesterday.”

  With that, he jerked his head toward the door. “Keith in front, Corey to the right. I’ll bring up left rear. I’m calling for the Yukon to meet us at the bottom of the steps.”

  “You think he’s here?” Corey tried to muscle in front of her brother. “Maybe we should—”

  “We’ll do as I said, Corey.” Mark waited until her features relaxed before adding, “We have to assume that’s how he knew what plane. Still, it’s more likely he called every private jet coming in from St. Louis until he found this one. That doesn’t mean he’s here. We could have landed at Rockland or Brunswick, for that matter—Louisville.”

  The door opened without fanfare. Steps lowered as usual. Keith stepped out, the Sig Sauer now at his side, ready. Halfway down the steps, he gave the signal. Corey stepped out with Brent right behind her. “Keep low,” she hissed as they began their descent.

  Mark stood at the top, scanning the area for anything—anyone. Nothing. He took a step. Swept every inch within sight and stepped again. Once the Knupps reached the tarmac, he jogged down the rest of the way and began scanning again as they raced for the Yukon. Keith opened the door, Mark searched around the car and went for the driver’s side. A shot rang out. He spun, ready to fire, and saw Corey and Brent on the ground. Keith stood with his gun still pointed inside the vehicle.

  A second shot fired.

  Mark raced for the driver’s door, stood back, and flung it open. A man half-fell from it, blood oozing from the side of his head. He stepped into the open doorway and held his gun, ready to fire, but no one else was in the vehicle.

  “What happened?!”

  Keith laid his gun on the floorboard and pointed at the airplane. “Corey, get your brother inside.”

  They’d taken two steps when Mark stopped them. “Wait. Brent. Is this Vering?” He snapped a picture and passed it between the seats and to Keith.

  By the way the man turned away from the phone, Mark had his answer long before he said, “Yes.”

  Thank You, God.

  “Bunny” the nurse came in and whispered something to Morgan, and a moment later, he stood, kissed her, and left without a word. Tyler’s here.

  It took another ten minutes before Tyler walked through the door. “Hi.”

  Flynne stared. He shuffled his feet. Eventually, she ordered him to come all the way in. “They, like, don’t want us yelling all the time.”

  “Mark has a lot of work for us.”

  Despite the pain of talking, Flynne decided to get the worst over first. “I have some ‘splainin’ to do first.”

  He shook his head. “No… no you don’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. Let’s just put it in the past, okay?”

  Her pride protested, but she decided it didn’t have a right to. “If—I can’t say sorries?”

  “Apology accepted.”

  It didn’t seem like he cared much. Morgan had been worried. He’d cried. Tyler just gave her a smile and pulled out the laptop.

  Suddenly, she felt a whole lot better. “Glad to know I didn’t break your heart when I met someone else.” When he didn’t respond to that, Flynne switched to the job at hand. “What are we supposed to do?”

  “New identities for—what’d you say?”

  “I’ve been, like, feeling, like, totes the biggest jerkface ever after what happened with Morgan. But you don’t even care. Makes it easier on me, I guess.”

  “Don’t care?”

  She sniffled. “Bet you weren’t even sorries I almost died. But, like you said. All in the past.” She pointed at the laptop. “What’re the parameters.”

  Silence reigned while he pulled out his phone and created a hot spot. After that, his fingers clicked over keys until he’d done whatever it was he thought was so important. “Knupps are going to Spain. What do we do?”

  “IDs take the longest—that and photo modification. Let’s start with names so we can do both of those. Oh, and start downloading their entire social media presence. All of it. Anything they’re tagged in. It’s all got to go poofs.”

  “Nothing ever disappears on the web, Flynne. You know that.”

  “But if people don’t know it’s there to search for, they won’t search. We have to do everything we can and then hope for the rest.”

  For twenty minutes they argued, until they settled on Albany for the surname. First names followed. Tyler tried calling to ask if the girls had favorite names, but the call never connected. “Must be busy.”

  “Do you know where they have the girls?”

  “Is it important? Why can’t we just call them Sarah and Emily and be done with it?”

  “Names are important. And they’re totes old enough to get to choose.”

  He grabbed the phone and called Claire. Ten minutes later, the Joe Albany family had been renamed. “Are you happy?”

  “Totes.”

  In that moment, Flynne decided honesty was an overrated commodity and she should be glad she’d never converted to any religion. But, I sorta promised to do the God thing…

  “That makes one of us,” Tyler muttered under his breath. In his normal voice, he added, “Okay, what—?”

  “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it, Flynne.”

  “Then stop doing it! You’re the one who wouldn’t talk, and then you get all whatevs on me. So, just yell at me!”

  The nurse came in and tried to calm her. “He’s being supes stupes!”

  That got Nurse Bunny hopping. “Look, if you’re going to upset her, you’ll have to leave.”

  “I’m trying not to. I’m trying to just do some important stuff so I can get out of her life, and she can go back to swooning over lover boy.”

  Bunny eyed her. “Ex-boyfriend?”

  “Very ex.”

  “Last to know,” Tyler added. “Even after her new boyfriend.”

  That stung, and something told her it should. “You’re the one who was all, ‘Whatevs’ about it, and now you’re acting like you even cared!”

  “I did care, Flynne!” He jumped up and slammed the laptop onto the bed tray. “I sat there listening to scanners talk about how they weren’t getting a response from you, freaking out, and you’d already replaced me!”

  With that, he stormed out. Flynne watched until she couldn’t see him anymore and looked up at Bunny. “I guess that maybe went, like, as well as could be expected? Under the curcs?”

  “Curcs?”

  A sigh escaped. Flynne closed her eyes, reached out, and shut the laptop. “Circumstances.” She rested a moment before adding, “When he comes back, let him in and tell him photos. He’ll know what I mean.”

  “You think he’ll come back?”

  “We’re, like, co-workers. He has to.”

  Everyone who could be there was—Keith and Erika, Flynne and Tyl
er, Doyle, Brian and Karen. Corey. Claire. Liv and Erika locked in the office upstairs. A much smaller group than the last time. His gut twisted at how much they’d lost.

  One by one—or in the case of Keith and Erika, two by two once Keith picked her up from the office—they left. Everything seemed in order. All reports in. All observations noted. Even Paris and Henry had left statements before going to guard the Knupps during the debrief.

  Mark stared at the papers before him, flipping through each one to be certain he hadn’t missed anything. Five whole days of nothing—not a single blip on any radar. The relief nearly overwhelmed him.

  Claire paced, silent and fuming. Only after he pressed her twice did she began ranting. “Keith lied to me.”

  “About?”

  “The Agency. I asked if he was coming back just yesterday and he gave me the same line about how he’s retired and is just an instructor. But he knew he was back at that point, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  She slammed her stainless-steel water bottle on the table as if it would solve her problem. “He lied to me then. Why would he do that?”

  “To protect himself, me, The Agency…”

  “From me? I’m an agent!”

  Mark stood and pulled her close. After a brief hug, he sighed and sat down again. “Claire, he has to say whatever he has to say to keep this agency, the agents, and even his family safe.”

  “I know… but why me? It’s not like I’m a threat to The Agency.”

  C’mon… you should be able to figure that out. Aloud, Mark just said, “Without my okay, he’d never do it.”

  “But…”

  This was it. How she responded to him would define what kind of relationship they could have. “Claire, I’d lie to you in an instant if it would protect any of my agents or this agency. You have to decide if you’re okay with that. If not, tell me now.”

  Before it makes being your boss even more impossible than it is now.

  Claire moved behind him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Why does that not bother me but Keith lying to me does?”

  “Would you lie to me to save this agency or one of my agents?”