Living Proof

by Peter J Thompson

  Today looked like more of the same. Someone reported seeing the suspect down by Galveston and they were on the way down to investigate. Cain glanced over at Rev Tanner in the seat next to him, both hands on the wheel and his eyes focused on the road. When they first started the hunt together, Rev had talked all the time. Now he wouldn’t say a word unless spoken to. People handled stress in different ways.

  Cain's encrypted cell phone rang. He glanced down at the number. The phone rang once more, then stopped.

  Cain waved his hand toward Rev. “Pull over. It's time to check in.”

  Tanner nodded and eased the car off to the side of the road.

  “Wait here.” Cain stepped out of the car and walked away from the roadway. The hard soil crunched against his shoes. A big rig flew by on the road, hitting him with a gust of wind. Cain walked a few yards further before punching a new number into the phone. Moments later, it was answered by a robotic voice demanding that he enter his access code. He hit the numbers and waited while his call was put through. He waited patiently until he heard the voice on the other end.

  “Can I have your password, please.”

  Cain recognized the voice of Major Bob Durmo. “What’s shakin’, Bob?”

  “Parker?”

  “Yeah, who’re you expectin’?”

  “I’m sorry, Parker, I still need to hear the password.”

  “Jesus…”

  “I’m sorry, Parker, it’s the colonel’s orders.”

  “Shit. Tomcat-alley-forthright-niner. Okay?”

  “Sorry, Parker. It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Right. What’d you call me for?” Cain let his irritation slip out. He’d always thought that Durmo was proof brown-nosing was good for career advancement.

  “I think we’ve got a break. I wanted to let you know.”

  “What’s going on?” Cain felt a touch of apprehension. After all he’d been through, was someone else going to snare his rabbit?

  “Someone’s been asking questions about the base. Specific questions. They know about Green too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, word got back. We traced it down to some schlep in the defense department. We picked him up about an hour ago. It didn’t take him long to tell his story. He was checking it out for a friend of his. A reporter.”

  “Shit!”

  “Her name’s Lena Dryer. We got the phone number for the place she called him from. It’s a motel just north of Austin.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I’ve got a detail heading there now.” Cain detected a note of triumph in Durmo’s voice. “I’m sending another team over to her home address.”

  Cain got the rest of the details and quickly went back to the car. They changed directions, making a beeline toward Austin. Cain made some calls on the way to get the background on the reporter, Lena Dryer. At top speed, it took them nearly two hours.

  The team from the base was already there, but it didn’t matter. They were too late. The girl already left sometime earlier that day. The desk clerk didn’t know where they were going, and though he thought she was with someone, he hadn’t seen the person and couldn’t give a description.

  Cain made a quick search of the cabin where they had stayed but found nothing that would help. They’d missed the rabbit again. But he was still in the area, still within striking distance. And it looked like he’d made a mistake. The reporter was naïve—the phone call was a big mistake. The rabbit must have linked up with the reporter recently, since she was just checking out his story that day. That meant she was still trying to put the details together.

  Cain looked over at Rev Tanner and smiled. He felt better than he had all day.

  “If she’s going to do this as a story, she’ll have to run it by her editor. The editor is the key.”

  15

  The plaza across from the Austin Star building was almost a block square, surrounded by office buildings on all sides, with a series of fountains in the center. Concrete benches encircled the fountains, and the area in between was an open landscaped terrace. The plaza was always busy during the day, with workers from nearby buildings mixing in with the tourists. The weather was the coolest it had been in weeks, the sky clear and the temperature a comfortable 74 degrees. So the plaza was busier than normal.

  Jack Van Russell checked his watch as he exited the Star building and crossed over to the plaza. 12:25—he had five minutes to spare. Tall and lanky, with a full head of snow-white hair, he wore a navy blue Brooks Brothers suit with his signature cowboy boots, bolo tie, and oversize belt buckle. Jack knew that he cut a striking figure for a man of his age.

  It was a beautiful day for a walk and a nice change of pace to leave the office during the day. His normal routine called for a spartan lunch served at his desk while he worked on assignments for the next day’s edition. His job called for long hours and a single-minded commitment to the final result. Getting out of the office was a luxury he couldn’t often afford.

  The paper was his life, and it had been for nearly forty years. Like the old-timers used to say, ink ran through his veins. The single thing he was proudest of in the entire world, above his wife, above his kids, above everything, was that he put out a damned fine newspaper.

  It was a treat to be outside on such a wonderful day. Though he’d enjoy it more, if he wasn’t so concerned with his problems with Lena. It sure looked like he’d made a mistake. She had all the right qualities: intelligence, ambition, and instinct, the ability to find the overlooked story, the angle that everyone else had missed. She was still young. She needed seasoning, but her work was exceptional. If he hadn’t offered her the job, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he lost her. She was too ambitious to stay put.

  But the Washington assignment was a plum, the most coveted position the Star had to offer. Maybe it was immaturity, but her recent behavior really had him worried. She’d missed two conference calls in the last two days, and hadn’t checked in with the Washington bureau as agreed.

  And then this. Lena called yesterday and told him she’d come across something astounding. Something she couldn’t tell him over the phone. She had to meet in person, but it couldn’t be at the office. It had to be someplace in the open—the office might be bugged or something. The paranoia was surprising. It didn’t seem like her. But change did funny things to people. Maybe the advice columnist in the paper was right, sometimes people feared success. Getting too close to achieving her goals, maybe Lena needed to sabotage them in order to maintain her self-image. It was a shame, but one way or another, he’d deal with this problem today.

  Jack scanned the plaza but didn’t see any sign of Lena. It looked like he was there first. He made his way over to an empty bench near a fountain in the center. He straightened his bolo tie and sat down with his back to the fountain, positioned so it would be easy for her to find him, and he could observe the people going by while he waited.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too late. But then again, it felt so good being outside. He nodded a silent hello to a young woman in a tight dress and high heels who reminded him of his granddaughter. Looking around, he noticed a tourist taking in scene with a video camera. A couple walked by holding hands and talking quietly. A tall businessman with mirrored sunglasses strolled past talking on his cell phone. Jack checked his watch again: 12:31. In a way, he hoped she was late. It was too nice of a day for a confrontation.

  Captain Cain walked past the old man and positioned himself at the next fountain over. He turned back so he had a clear view of the bench where the old man sat. It wouldn’t be long now. If the old man, the editor, was here, that meant they were coming.

  Cain tapped a button on his phone and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece, “Sighting confirmed. We got one target. You boys in position? Sound off in order.”

  There was a burst of static. He listened as each man called out his position.

  “This is North. I got him dead on.”

  “East here. I’m
in position.”

  “South. I got the backside.”

  “West here, Rover. My position is covered.”

  Cain tapped the button on his phone again. “That’s good fellas. Call out if you see our primaries. No one shoots ‘til I give the order.”

  Cain signed off but kept the phone in his hand, ready to respond to any new developments. This was the perfect cover. A man talking on his phone wouldn’t attract a second glance—though in this case, the cell phone was actually a networked line set to an encrypted channel. He had full communication with the four men stationed in the buildings surrounding the plaza. These men, with their high-powered rifles and telescopic sights, were positioned so that no matter where in the plaza the targets were, they would be in the sights of at least two of the snipers.

  Cain sat down on the bench and turned at an angle so he could keep an eye on his prey without staring. He reached into his pocket and removed a small device resembling a iPod. It was connected by a slim wire to an earplug, which he placed in his left ear. He pointed the device toward the old man’s bench. He heard the babble of background sounds and dozens of unconnected conversations. He slowly twisted the knobs, bringing the sound into focus. The old man smiled and nodded to a young woman passing by. Through the earplug, Cain heard the old man’s greeting with perfect clarity. Now he was set.

  After missing the rabbit at the motel, Cain knew he was close. Hooking up with the reporter was a surprising move, but one he should have anticipated. She wasn’t on the visitor’s list at the prison because she was cleared directly through the warden. If she’d been on the list, she would have been tagged for observation. There was no doubt that they’d blown an opportunity. Cain was relieved he had a second chance.

  As soon as he found out about the reporter, he arranged for phone taps on all of the Star’s managerial staff. It was the logical thing to do. Having the rabbit run to her must have seemed like a gift from heaven, a big boost for her career. Her self-interest was in breaking the story, and she’d have to get it cleared through management before she pursued it. But what if he was wrong? What if she didn’t go after the story? What if she decided to go to the authorities instead? And what if she found someone who believed her? Then Cain and his men would have to retreat, and if she really had the evidence, there'd be hell to pay.

  But the reporter didn’t disappoint him. Human nature and personal interest always won out. It was less than an hour after the phone taps were placed when the call came through to set up the meeting. That gave Cain more than enough time to set the trap. It looked like he’d been saved by luck. Or fate. Cain adjusted his earplug and casually glanced around the plaza. No sign of the targets yet, but it would be soon.

  The chase had gone on much too long. The information was like a virus. It had already spread from the rabbit to the reporter, and now her editor was in line. This contagion had to be stopped. If information about what was going on at the Installation leaked to the public, it would be a disaster. Cain was going to make sure that the infection ended today, as soon as the other two arrived.

  His plan was to wait and listen. Let them talk. He needed to find out what they knew and what proof they had. If his luck held, they’d bring the evidence with them, and he could clean up everything at once. When the time was right, Cain would give the order to the snipers. Then, amid the panic and confusion, he’d pick up the evidence and make his way out. Cain could imagine how pleased Colonel Pope would be when he found out the mission was accomplished.

  A burst of static came from Cain’s cell phone. He raised it to his right ear. “This is Rover.”

  “Sir, we got a problem,” The voice on the phone spoke with disaffection. “This is West, Rover. I’ve got a sighting, but she’s coming in solo.”

  “Shit!” Cain sat up a little straighter as his muscles tensed. He saw her now. She matched up well to her photographs—medium build, short blonde hair, long legs, attractive. Today she wore a navy blue skirt and a white top. And she was definitely alone. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Okay, just hold tight, fellas. Let’s see how this develops.”

  Cain reached into his jacket and ran his fingers along the base of his Glock handgun. Loaded with hollow point bullets and fitted with a silencer, it was devastating and silent at close range. The job would be simple enough to handle. A few steps forward, two shots for each of them, drop the gun in the fountain, and calmly walk away. But that wasn’t the –he was still missing his primary target, the rabbit.

  Cain lowered the cell phone and adjusted the tuning on his listening device. The reporter, Lena, made a beeline for the bench where the old man sat. The old man didn’t notice her until she was almost next to him. Cain heard them clearly when they spoke.

  “Jack, you’re not going to believe what’s happened.”

  “We’ve been worried about you, Lena. You were supposed to be in Washington yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry, but forget about Washington, Jack. I’ve got a story that’s going to make us both famous.”

  “Settle down now. What are you talking about?”

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Okay, who is it?”

  Lena glanced around. Cain quickly looked away.

  “Not here. Someone could be listening. Come with me.” She turned away and started heading back the way that she had come. The old man fell in step alongside her.

  “Lena, this is crazy. This paranoia isn’t like you.”

  “I know this seems strange, but just wait, you’ll see. This is a story to die for.”

  Cain waited a moment, then stood and followed. He raised the cell phone, pushed the button, and spoke again. “This is Rover. I’m goin’ mobile. Hang loose and prepare to follow once I know where they’re headin’.”

  As he walked, Cain adjusted the listening device so it could pick up his target’s conversation, but they were facing away from him and there was too much ambient noise. He couldn’t hear them at all. He hung back and let a group of office workers move in front of him, staying back far enough so he wouldn't be noticed.

  Lena walked to the edge of the Plaza, where a set of steps led underground. She looked backwards, then seemingly satisfied, continued on. At a discreet distance, Cain followed. The stairway connected to a concrete walkway that passed beneath the office building, linking the plaza to the garage entrance and access to the lower level of the building. It looked like a popular shortcut. He walked slowly, keeping a handful of office workers between him and his prey. Cain tried to adjust the listening device again to monitor his target’s conversation, but the echoes off the cement walls made listening impossible.

  About halfway down the tunnel on one side, was an entrance to the office building. On the other side, the garage entrance. Lena and the old man were well past the entrance when the office workers in between went into the building. Cain was now alone in the passageway with his targets. He couldn’t let them see him. He stepped into the entranceway to the garage, away from the hallway and out of sight.

  Cain waited patiently until their footsteps receded in the distance, then stepped out as they were disappearing up the stairway at the far end of the hall. He quietly sprinted the twenty yards to the stairway and watched as they turned left at the top of the stairs.

  Cain pushed the button on the cell phone. “I’m stepping out on the street to the east of the plaza. They’re heading north. Get your asses out here, A-sap.” He clicked off, scaled the stairs at a run and stepped out street level.

  At the top of the stairs, the office building opened out onto a city street. He was in a concrete canyon, flanked by tall buildings. Shops and restaurants were at street level, office space on the higher floors. Cain turned left. Up ahead, among a crowd of pedestrians, he caught a glimpse of the back of the old man’s head, bobbing along higher than those around him. Cain walked briskly to reduce the space between them.

  He was still several yards back when they came to an inter
section. The prey crossed over. The light changed as Cain came to the corner. He started to cross, but a taxi cut him off and he had to jump back on the curb. After that, he didn’t have a chance. The flow of traffic was uninterrupted. He tried to keep track of his targets, but a bus stopped at his corner, blocking his targets from sight. By the time the bus pulled away, they were gone.

  Cain ran across the street as soon as the light changed. He rushed down the sidewalk, pushing people out of the way, scanning those in front for any signs of his targets. He saw a blonde, wearing navy and white. He was almost next to her before he realized she was the wrong one. It was a long block and he covered it quickly, but without success.

  Cain felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He was so close, but somehow they got away. Now the contagion would spread. He imagined the look on the old man’s face as he grasped the importance of the story. Cain imagined the printing presses working overtime with the rabbit’s face on the cover.

  The colonel was going to be very disappointed.

  Cain turned around and slowly walked back the way he had come, scanning the faces. They couldn’t have turned onto the other street – he’d gotten there too quickly; they didn’t have time. Somehow, they still had to be on this block. But that could mean any of the buildings on either side of the street. Each building had several possible exits; there was no way he could cover them all.

  He was about to call his men with his position, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of navy and white. Off the sidewalk, in a recessed area near the entrance to a bank, was a long-legged blonde, and wearing navy and white. Cain sighed with relief. It was her, it was Lena. And next to her, with an angry look on his face, was the old man, in a deep conversation with a muscular Hispanic wearing a baseball cap.

  He’d found the rabbit.

  Ramon leaned against a wall in the small courtyard outside the bank building and tried to relax. After Barry was murdered, he felt that a rope tightening around his neck. Ramon saw his own face flashed on the TV and staring from the front pages of the Houston newspapers. His description was attached to a false name—but there was no doubt it was him they were after. It was him they had accused of murder.