The Phoenix Egg

by Richard Bamberg

  ***

  Caitlin awoke with a start. John was lightly shaking her elbow. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the heels of her thumbs and looked out the window. The sky was dark, but there was a faint trace of sunset on the horizon. In the foreground, the Front Range was pitch black except for an occasional light.

  She turned to John. “We’re on final?”

  “Yeah, please place your seat in its full uptight position.”

  “Uptight?”

  “Yeah, makes more sense, don’t you think?”

  “How many beers did you have?”

  He grinned a half smile that only curled up the right corner of his mouth. It gave him a roguish look. “Not that many. Why? Do I need a breath mint?”

  “No, just don’t breathe on any policemen.”

  The plane shook, and Caitlin’s stomach tightened. “Seems like there’s always turbulence coming into the Springs.”

  “You fly home often?”

  “A couple times a year. Sometimes we used to fly in for a ski weekend, when we were coming to visit the folks, we’d usually drive up.”

  “I’d have figured you’d take the Denver airport.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “Denver’s airport is just too damn big. It’s great for connections, but it’s crowded and too far east of the mountains. It’s more relaxing to fly into the Springs.”

  “Oh. I don’t guess I’ve flown into Denver more than once or twice and I haven’t flown into the Springs since college.”

  “I thought your parents lived near here.”

  “Not anymore. When Dad retired from the Air Force, they moved home to Alabama. He’s working in Huntsville these days.”

  Outside, the lights of the Springs were now within a thousand feet.

  “Do you see them often?”

  “No, not really. I went back for Christmas the year before last, but it’s hardly like home. Besides, Dad and I haven’t gotten along too well since I left the Marines. He thought I was quitting, running away like I ran away from college without finishing my doctorate. ‘I didn’t raise no damn quitters.’” He chuckled mirthlessly.

  “John I’m sorry. I had no idea. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, I’m not even sure why I mentioned it. Forget I said anything.”

  There was if a jolt as the wheels touched down. The plane slowed rapidly then turned off the active runway toward the terminal. It was another ten minutes before the door was unlatched and the passengers pushed toward the exit.

  John and Caitlin sat still until the most of the other passengers were gone, then rose and followed them out.

  As they entered the main terminal, Caitlin noticed the obvious search John was making of the waiting crowd. Most had already greeted arriving passengers, and the few others didn’t appear to notice them.

  “Do you think they might be looking for us here?”

  “No, it’s just the smart thing to watch for.”

  “Tell me if you spot someone,” she said.

  “Sure, you’ll be the first to know.”

  They tagged along behind the rest of the disembarking passengers as they moved toward the main terminal. They took their time at the top of the escalators and chatted briefly about the weather and skiing conditions until John tilted his head toward the lower floor. They rode the escalator down and then went to the baggage carousels.

  It was easy to spot their bags. Most of their fellow passengers had already retrieved luggage and moved toward the exits. John lifted each of their bags from the moving conveyor and stacked them until the last one came by. Taking the bags, they went to the car rental agencies, where John motioned her toward the less crowded one.

  Ten minutes later, they were loading their luggage into the back of Jeep Grand Cherokee. John took a moment to check their surroundings for watchers, then unlocked his bag, and removed his handgun. He loaded it and then it disappeared beneath his coat.

  “Get in,” he said.

  Caitlin went to the driver’s door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You haven’t been to my parents’ house. I thought you’d want me to drive. Unless you’re one of those macho male drivers that can’t ride with a woman driver.”

  “If these were ordinary circumstances, I would be happy for you to drive me, but I’m supposed to be protecting you. Unless you can convince me that you’ve had a VIP chauffeurs’ driving course, I’ll drive.”

  Caitlin put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you have one.”

  “Certainly. There’s a good one near San Francisco. I recommend it if you get the chance.”

  Caitlin surrendered and got in the passenger side. John got behind the wheel, cranked the car, and pulled out of the parking space. At the entrance to the lot, a guard checked their paperwork and then motioned them on.

  “Which way do we go? Isn’t their house out in Black Forest?”

  “Yes, turn right on Powers Boulevard. It’ll take us out there.”

  Powers wasn’t far. John followed her instructions, turned north, and accelerated up the wide avenue. In a few minutes, they crossed state highway 24. A few miles farther, they reached Woodman Road, and Caitlin pointed east away from the city lights.

  “It’s changed. The city never used to come out so far,” John commented.

  “Really? I guess that’s because you’ve been gone a couple of years. It’s not as noticeable when you come back more often. Just over this hill, you’ll want to turn to the left.”

  John nodded and then slowed as he crested the hill. He stopped, waited for a couple of cars to pass, and then turned left onto Black Forest Road. The road left the plains and climbed into the thick pines that gave the area its name.

  “How far?”

  “Not far, turn right at the stop sign.”

  In a minute, they reached the small country store, post office, and the few other buildings that marked the community center of Black Forest. Black Forest was a rural community on the outskirts of urban Colorado Springs. The main reason it had remained rural was the foresightedness of a few people in the early 70’s. That was when developers were beginning to buy up sections of Black Forest. Their intent was to turn it into one more planned community, but the citizens got together and changed the zoning codes to restrict the sale of any land parcel smaller than 2.5 acres. The result was that more thirty years later you could still build a house out of sight of your neighbors.

  At Caitlin’s direction, John turned to the east. They traveled a few minutes more and turned off the main road onto a cross street.

  “How much farther?”

  “About a mile.”

  John slowed the Jeep and pulled onto the shoulder. Snow filled the drainage ditch, and he was careful not to drop the tires into it.

  “What are you doing?” Caitlin asked.

  “There’s something I need from my bags. It’ll only take a minute.”

  He left the motor running and got out. A few seconds later, he opened the rear hatch. The cold mountain air mingled with the unpleasant scent of the car’s exhaust and swirled into the interior. He opened the hard-sided suitcase and popped out a small plastic case. Then he shut the hatch and returned to the driver’s seat.

  When he opened the case, Caitlin could see a small plastic box with a display screen, a couple of switches, and a micro jack. John took out the box and a telescoping antenna she hadn’t noticed before. He screwed the antenna into the top of the box and drew it out to about two feet in length.

  Next, he took an earbud from the case and plugged its jack into the box. He put the earbud in his right ear and flicked one of the switches. The display lit and numbers scrolled across the screen at a pace that was too fast to follow.

  “You mind telling me what you’re up to?”

  “Not at all. If there’s a watch on your parent’s house whoever is watching will report in regularly and definitely will call in if they receive a late night
visit. This scanner will cover the standard bands up to nine gigahertz. If they transmit in the clear, I’ll be able to listen in.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “If they’re using the latest digital radios, and I expect they will be, then their broadcast will be encoded.”

  “Then what good will this do?”

  “If anyone starts transmitting there will be a significant increase in background power levels. This will detect those changes and warn us.”

  Caitlin shrugged, it made sense, and if John thought it’d work then, it probably would.

  “Here, you hold it. Try to keep it upright. It’s not critical, but it’ll help reception.”

  Caitlin took it and watched the numbers scroll for a moment then looked at John as he put the car in gear. “Couldn’t we just cruise past their place and see if there’s a stakeout?”

  He grinned at her.

  “Did I say something stupid?” she asked.

  “Do you mean look for a panel van with black windows and antennas on the roof that’s parked across the road from their driveway?”

  “Well, yes, sure. What else would they be in?”

  “It depends on how bright they think you are. A dark van might work in the city, but how many people out here would go by one without calling the police to investigate it?”

  “All right. I’ll give you that. If it stayed for long, then someone would probably check it out. But couldn’t they just show the police their credentials and maintain the stakeout?”

  “Sure they could. But the purpose of a stakeout is to watch without being noticed. If the local police were going to stake out your parents’ place, they might just use a van and not worry about being spotted, but I think these guys are more devious than that.”

  “Then what will they do?”

  “I’m not certain. It could be set up in several ways. The simplest is to move into a neighbor’s house and watch from there, but I’d bet that wouldn’t work out here. The houses are too isolated, and people tend to know each other too well.”

  “You’re right there. Mom and Dad have lived here for over twenty years. They know everyone out here.”

  “Then it’s not likely that someone could be using a neighbor’s house without the neighbors learning of it. They could also have a blind set up in the woods.” He paused to gaze out the side windows at the tall pines shrouded with snow. “But I don’t think the forest is thick enough to hide them.”

  “What’s that leave?”

  “The simplest thing would be a remote surveillance with a radio link. If it were my case, I’d disguise a camera and transmitter in a box of some type, a telephone junction box, cable TV, or even on a power pole. The camera would only activate whenever a vehicle turned into or out of your drive and would then transmit a picture back to wherever these guys are operating.”

  “How can we get past something like that?”

  “It’s not impossible. We’ll cruise by their driveway and see if the receiver picks up anything. If we don’t pick up any transmissions, or spot anything suspicious, we’ll try the driveway.”

  A half-mile up the road, they passed the mailbox and driveway to her parent’s house. Caitlin remembered his scolding her about facing a possible camera back in San Francisco and kept her face partially shielded with her hands as she watched the receiver. They passed the house without any indication that the receiver had registered a hidden transmitter.

  “Well?” John asked.

  “It all looks normal to me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what it should look like if they’re doing their job properly.”

  A quarter mile farther, John turned into another driveway. He backed out onto the road and accelerated back the way they’d come.

  “We’ll try the driveway. If the receiver picks up something, we can leave before anything happens. They probably aren’t watching out here yet, and with any luck, Mama Squeeze will have convinced them that you’re still in the Bay Area. Keep your face down, though, there’s no sense taking unnecessary chances.”

  “All right.”

  “Didn’t you say that your parents didn’t have anyone watching the house?”

  “Yeah, but Abe Jackson drops by if there’s an extremely heavy snowfall or anything like that. You know, in case the snow needs to be cleared from the roof.”

  “There are fresh tire tracks to their house.”

  He was right. “I didn’t give it any thought, maybe Abe was out here.”

  “Maybe or maybe someone else.”

  John shifted gears again and pulled into the driveway. The drive curved in a gentle sweep to the left around ponderosa pines whose branches drooped under a load of nearly eight inches of snow.

  Caitlin stared out the windshield as the headlight illuminated the front of her parent’s home through the trees.

  “God, maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” Caitlin said.

  “It’s your choice. It’s not too late to turn back.”

  “No, we’re here now. We’ll do what you suggested.”

  John coasted to a stop at the foot of wide steps that led up to the raised front porch. He killed the engine, left the headlights on, and opened his door.

  “Why didn’t you back in? What if we have to leave in a hurry?” she asked.

  “If there’s someone here waiting for us then they’ll probably have the road blocked before we can get there. We’d have to find another way out, and I don’t want to try that in the dark. I’ll scout around for an emergency exit tomorrow.”

  Caitlin opened her own door and stepped down. The snow crunched loudly beneath her feet. That and the sharp metallic ping of the cooling engine were the only noises that reached her. The air felt cold, colder than it had at the airport. She zipped up her jacket and wished she’d thought to buy gloves.

  The house, a large two-story log home with hand-hewn, Swedish cope logs and thick chinking, was dark except for a tiny glow that marked the doorbell.

  “Caitlin, look here,” John said from the other side of the Jeep.

  She walked in front of it and found him pointing at a single pair of tracks that led around to the side of the house and returned close by.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. It could just be the meter reader from the power company.”

  “Don’t they have the remote reading meters?”

  “As of last summer, they didn’t. I was here when the meter man came by. The meter is around on that side of the house.”

  “All right, whoever it was left anyway.”

  Caitlin led the way up the steps to the front porch. Some snow had blown onto the porch and formed a mound a couple of inches deep in front of the glass storm door. Jill opened the outer door, and then fished in her case for the keys.

  She unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened foyer. The house was cold.

  Caitlin hit the light switch, stomped the snow from her shoes, and then walked quickly to the front closet. Inside the closet, she pushed a few coats to one side, to reveal a gray, metal security panel. She keyed in her parent’s code, a red light winked out, and a green one lit.

  “Okay, the security system is disarmed.”

  “All right, I’ll get the bags from the car; you reactivate it after I’m back.”

  Caitlin went across the great room to the lower floor’s thermostat and switched on the furnace. She heard sparking of the automatic igniter and the whoosh of gas as it caught.

  She met John at the door and took her bags from him.

  He followed her in, shut the door behind him, and threw the bolt. “It’s kinda cold in here. How do they keep the pipes from freezing?”

  “The water is shut off in the basement. The valve area is heated by a dedicated electric heater to keep it safe.”

  “That makes sense, no point in heating the whole house just to keep water from freezing.”

  “It has its drawbacks. We’ll have to close the faucets and the valve on the hot
water heater before we can turn the water on.”

  She switched on more lights, illuminating the great room and the dining area on the opposite side of the entry.

  “Nice place,” John said.

  Caitlin gazed at the immense stone chimney that rose twenty feet above the hearth, the elk antler chandelier suspended above the hardwood floor, at the many intricate sculptures that graced bookshelves and end tables. The sculptures were her mothers. She’d begun working in ceramics before Caitlin was born and had branched out into clay when she was still a child. Her mother could have made a decent living off the sale of her art, but she’d never wanted to work for others. Caitlin had once thought that she sounded too much like an artist, unwilling to sacrifice her art for money. As she grew older, Caitlin began to suspect that it was more a fear of rejection than anything else. No matter who told her that her work was outstanding, her mother was always self-effacing, never willing to admit to herself that she was actually very talented.

  “Thanks, I like it too.”

  “Does that fireplace work?”

  “Of course, there’s wood to the left of it. It has a gas igniter. The control is on the right. If you want to start it, I’ll fix us a drink. What’ll you have?”

  “Anything. Whiskey if you have it. Preferably Irish, but on a night like this I’ll take whatever is available.”

  “All right, I’ll see what’s stocked. Make sure you open the flue.”

  “I’ve done this before,” John said as he walked toward the fireplace.

  Caitlin went to the wall farthest from the door. A maple armoire stood against the wall. She punched a three-digit code into the small keypad on the right door and was rewarded by the click of an electric solenoid. The doors opened and revealed a well-stocked liquor cabinet. She selected a bottle of Black Bush for John and poured two inches into a wide tumbler. For herself, she chose a fine Armagnac and splashed a similar amount into a snifter. The top of the armoire held a small microwave oven, and she gave her glass a ten-second dose to break the chill.

  She left the armoire open and carried both glasses with her. Passing by the light switch, Caitlin dimmed the lights until the room was murky. Then she went to the fireplace, where John was setting a last piece of split wood into the fireplace. He turned the small brass key and gas flames ignited under the logs.