20
Aaron pulled off the first exit for Greenville, South Carolina. He was going to stop at a Rest Area originally but he had to connect his laptop to a phone line. He was not sure if a phone line would be readily available at some small rest area off of Interstate 26. He went to a Red Roof Inn and paid fifty dollars for the smallest room they had for a night. He snatched up the key from the young man at the front desk and jogged to his room. It was on the second floor near the end of the hall. He liked a room that was out of the way. He had not had much luck with hotels lately.
He opened his door and put the laptop on the small work desk in front of the mirror. He unplugged the phone and used the outlet for his Internet access. The convenience of the laptop made him regret that it would probably be taken from him when this ordeal was settled. He was starting to fall in love with this carry anywhere computer.
When the homepage was displayed he zipped across to his personal e-mail with two clicks of the mouse. The computer froze for a second. Aaron feared that he was about to be disconnected. The computer came to life again to search for any new e-mail. The screen popped up the message: YOU HAVE ONE NEW E-MAIL. Aaron let out a sigh of relief and tried to be patient as it downloaded.
He was so happy to see this e-mail from Grant. As he read about Grant's exit from the airplane he was shaking his head repeating the phrase, “Holy shit man, holy shit.”
Aaron found the address for Grant's library, he entered it in the destination field on maps.com as well as Greenville, South Carolina as the starting point and clicked on the “Create Map” button. He had perfect directions given to him. He copied them down on a Red Roof Inn note pad with his Red Roof Inn pen.
Aaron could be there in an hour but he did not want to rush. The least amount of police officers was desirable. This ride would take him nearly one and a half-hours if he traveled patiently. He approached his car, settled into his seat and headed north.
Aaron was traveling at a constant rate of seventy-five miles per hour. The speed limit on Interstate 385 in this particular area was fifty-five miles per hour. It had been seventy miles per hour for the last twenty minutes. He did not even see the police car on the side of the highway. He noticed it when the flashing blue lights in his rear view mirror reflected into his eyes. Aaron just looked in the mirror in paralyzed shock. He was taken aback by what could wind up happening in the next three minutes. The thought of trying to outrun the police officer entered his mind for a second, but it quickly left. He calmed himself down, put his right blinker on, and slowly applied the brakes as he eased on to the shoulder, off the highway.
Aaron's blood was pumping hard. Each brush with trouble made him panic more and more. He forced himself to calm down and stopped himself from shaking. He placed both hands on the steering wheel and tried to do everything to make the officer's job easier. The officer stopped just before he approached Aaron's new CRX and began to speak to someone on his shoulder-attached walkie-talkie. All Aaron could believe was that the officer called in the plate number as he was pulling him over and the dispatcher was now getting back to the officer telling him that this particular vehicle was reported stolen. He was having a hard time believing that after all this trouble he was about to be arrested for grand theft auto. He forced himself to stay calm. He rolled his window down as the officer approached. “You in a rush to get somewhere sir?” The tall, muscular officer exuded authority. His voice alone was deep and threatening.
“Actually sir, I am going to pick my daughter up at the airport in Greenville and I am about thirty minutes behind schedule. I’m really sorry and I won’t speed. She's only sixteen years old and I don’t want her to worry. She's my baby girl, ya' know? I swear sir, I'll slow it down.” Aaron was in the line of fire. The next words that came out of the officer's mouth could change his life drastically.
“Is she in college already?”
“No sir, she is in high school but she flew to Pennsylvania for a Girl Scout Conference at Temple University. She stayed behind to volunteer with the younger girls that were coming in the following week for the same type of conference so she is traveling alone. We were trying to save a dollar or two so my wife and I flew her in to Greenville instead of Columbia. The damn airfares now a days are ridiculous.”
“Yeah, almost making it hard for the blue collar guys to fly. Would you slow it down sir? I'm sure your daughter will be fine; Greenville has a very nice airport. They'll look out for her.” This was a very nice police officer.
“Yes sir, I learned my lesson. I'll do fifty-five from here on out. I promise.” Aaron was kissing up in a way that he had not done since Rick O'Niell was in town a year ago to offer him a raise.
“OK, get outta' here.” The cop waved with his ticket booklet in hand and walked away.
Aaron waited for the cop to get in his car and pull away before he let out a scream. He screamed so loud and for so long that he gave himself a headache. This was too much for one man to handle.
He eased back onto the highway and turned the radio on. He was picking up a Sports Talk Show in Columbia. The two hosts, Mike and Reid, were having a heated discussion on the economics of baseball. Other than Rush Limbaugh, this was his favorite talk radio station with his favorite hosts. The conversation got his mind off things. He was laughing to himself as Mike cracked his usual witty comment and Reid just tried to keep things professional.
The talk radio show had his mind racing. Aaron was a huge fan of Major League Baseball and the NBA. For four days now he had no idea of what had been happening. He used to live by the Sports page. He could not put his every effort into work if he had not read the Sports page already. Tomorrow morning he would buy the newspaper and make an extra effort to give himself five minutes to read it thoroughly. He felt that he deserved it. He swore that he would buy the newspaper tomorrow.
After about twenty minutes Aaron lost the station. Mike and Reid’s voices turned to static and he was locked in on the road again. He figured he would be there within thirty minutes so time was really dragging. He was looking forward to his rendezvous with Grant Winchester. They had a lot to talk about. Aaron would share an 'escaping death' story of his own and then he planned to have serious discussion about what to do next and how to find this third man that Anderson referred to as 'Hart'.
Aaron crossed the state line. Two exits into North Carolina he started seeing signs for Asheville. He would be there in less than twenty minutes now barring no unforeseen circumstance or faulty directions. He was waiting for a black Lincoln to pull up behind him and start shooting or start trying to force him off the road, but it never happened. He was one of the only people on the road, surprisingly enough. The rest of the ride was a smooth one.
The town of Gillens, NC was a pretty little town. It was old and definitely had a Southern flare to it. The streetlights were off on the side of the streets rather than above. There was a Civil War Historic Site sign at almost every corner. There was an imposing marble statue of a man riding a horse carrying a gun and a rebel flag. Below the statue it said ‘Virtue, Peace and Integrity’. He drove slowly down the streets admiring the construction of these buildings. All of the side streets were cobblestone rather than black top. The town was in a very wooded area that enhanced its pastoral setting.
Up on the left Aaron saw the newer of the buildings with its fancy white pillars out front. He turned into the parking lot and found an inconspicuous spot in the rear of the building. He was anxious to finally meet Grant and hopefully begin the closure process to this entire ordeal. He walked into the library with his eyes on full alert. He was looking back and forth across the front room. It was a wide-open space with a glass casing in the center. The glass casing had an old piece of brown paper with a feathered pen lying up against a small jar of ink. The gold plaque across the front of the casing read 'North Carolina -- Land of Beauty and Freedom'. He admired it for a short time, hoping to not draw any attention. The small old helpful librarian came walking towards him with a smile. S
he had perfected her library whisper. “Hi there, how can I help you?”
“Um, Hi, I'm new in town and just looking around this beautiful little town.”
“Wow, the small town of Gillens, North Carolina is going to have two new residents in one day! Let me show you around. Do you have any children?”
“Um,” Aaron's eyes were racing back and forth across the library looking for Grant while the woman was talking about their beautiful library. “Yeah, I have a young daughter and another kid. What did you say about a second new resident?”
“We have a fellow sitting over there at the computers looking up some information on the area. He's thinking of moving here. He's the guy sitting in that cubicle that looks like the reporter from CNN.” She was pointing at Grant who was just waking from his nap.
“Wow. Great!” He almost started smiling and began walking away from her. “I'm going to go introduce myself. Thanks.”
The librarian stood there with her mouth open as if the abrupt end to their conversation insulted her.
Aaron approached the cubicle slowly. He began to whisper like the librarian. “Grant Winchester? Is that you?”
Grant must have recognized his voice almost immediately because he turned quickly to see the man he had jumped out of an airplane to meet. Grant smiled as he looked Aaron up and down. He raised his shoulders, raised his eyebrows, cocked a grin and then shook his head. “You do not look at all like you sound Mr. M80.”
Grant extended his hand for Aaron, continuing to smile. Aaron was smiling the entire time because he was meeting a celebrity and because he also felt like they had overcome a huge obstacle just to get to this point.
“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, “that's what everyone says. The pleasure's all mine though. I never thought I'd be alive at this point.”
“I fell out of a crashing airplane this morning doing about three hundred miles per hour, so I guess that thought has crossed my mind a few times in the last twenty four hours too.”
Aaron let out a deep breath from his new associate’s comment. “What do ya' say we get the hell outta' here?”
“Yeah man, I couldn't agree more.” Grant pointed towards the door and then followed Aaron to his beat up yellow Honda.
Once they were in the car Aaron was about to tell his story of how this entire thing unfolded in his lap one evening when Grant interrupted him to remind him that they still had to go find GMH3. Aaron informed Grant that it was a gentleman by the name of Hart.
“Oh damn, we should have checked my e mail at the library before we left to see if he'd responded yet. I slept in there for almost two hours. I was so damn excited to finally meet you I forgot to check it!” Grant hit his hand against the closed car door.
“Do you want to go back or you think it'll be too suspicious that the two guys who coincidentally were moving there the same week left together thirty minutes later.”
“No way man, it's way too conspicuous and she'll think we're gay.”
Grant giggled at his joke as Aaron just smiled and agreed. “That's OK by me, when we get to I-95 North we can pull off at a hotel and use one of those executive centers that they all have somewhere near the lobby.”
Aaron kept on driving looking for signs for Interstate 25 to somehow work his way over to Interstate 95. They had at least ten hours until New Jersey. Aaron was not sure where Hart was located but he and Grant agreed that it was north.
Grant and Aaron exchanged their stories. Grant told Aaron that he was in disbelief. “This whole thing is too far fetched for me. I've known for a long time about Howard Farnsworth, but I never thought it would come to this. I believe everything you are telling me because of everything that has happened in the last four days, especially, but it's so unbelievable, ya' know?”
Aaron widened his eyes and answered. “Oh yeah, I know. Trust me. I know.”
Grant began to offer ideas to finally bring a little closure to this thing. “I don't want to go on the air with CNN with this story Aaron. I think they might be on Old Howie's payroll.”
“No way man, we have to go on CNN. How are we going to do this without CNN?” Aaron was very against Grant's idea and a little shocked too.
“Honestly, I think Barry Stienham was behind my plane crash. He was behind not letting me go to Columbia on the CNN jet. I think he informed Farnsworth or Farnsworth's people that I was on to something. He had to, how else would they have gotten people on my chartered flight so fast? Barry was the only guy I spoke to.” Grant sounded adamant.
“So what are we going to do? Are we going to go on some crap little local station?”
“Aaron I swear to you that any 'crap little local station', as you call it, will be picked up live by every major outfit in the country within thirty seconds of us breaking the story.”
“Can they do that? Can Joe Little Guy TV station be picked up by the bigger outfits?” Aaron was out of his league now and trusting Grant.
“Yeah, it's called an uplink feed, I think. That's why we have satellites up in the sky my friend.” Grant raises his eyebrows again.
“I guess you are the pro here. I hope you know what you are talking about.”
“I went to school with a guy who works in New Jersey now. He is a reporter for a little station called WNJZ. He has been waiting his whole life for a story like this and he would do anything to help us. I have not spoken to him for years but whenever I travel north I watch him on the news. I know he'll do this. His career will skyrocket and he'll know it.”
Aaron was willing to give into anything right now. He wanted this to end. “OK, so we go to a hotel right now, check e mail for the Hart guy, pick him up in Jersey or wherever he is, then we shoot over to your buddy's station up there. Correct?”
“That sounds like a plan to me. I saw a sign about a mile back for a Marriott off of exit seventy-four. I guess we can go there.”
Aaron swerved to the right off of Exit seventy-four. The Marriott was just ahead on the left. He eased the little yellow CRX under the brown stucco entrance. They walked to the front desk. Aaron told the young man that they were traveling on a business trip and his wife had just had their baby this afternoon. His father in law emailed him a picture from labor and delivery. He begged the front desk clerk to please let him use their executive center for five minutes to allow him to access his e mail and see his brand new daughter. The young desk clerk smiled through his long brown locks. They only allowed hotel guests to use the executive center, but under the circumstances, they would be glad to oblige. He showed Grant and Aaron the way.
Once the laptop was plugged into the phone jack and the printer Grant accessed his e-mail. There was one message downloading. It was about seventy-two degrees in the Marriott and both men were shaking with excitement, nervousness and curiosity. The name popped up in his 'Inbox': GMH3. They read Mac's desperate email. Both were simultaneously out of their chairs looking for a telephone. Aaron ran to the front desk for change. He wanted Grant kept away from the public as much as possible. Grant was recognizable. Aaron was just another traveling blue-collar gentleman who went unnoticed.
Aaron took his five dollars in quarters to Grant who was standing by the phone shifting his feet like a four-year-old trying to hold back his bladder. He was also guarding the phone like the same four-year-old guards his toys. Grant dialed the phone and tapped his fingers on the side of the black payphone as he overflowed with impatience. Aaron stared at Grant waiting for him to raise his eyebrows when someone answered. He almost wanted to motion to Grant to move aside so he could hear too. They were in a life and death situation that could potentially and probably sway the balance of power in their country and they were acting like two children.
The phone receiver was suddenly picked up on the other end. There was a pause before a very deep voice muttered, “Hello.”
“Is this GMH3? This is Grant.” Grant was bouncing up and down on his tiptoes now.
The voice got stronger and livelier immediately. “Yes. Yes it is! I've been s
cared to answer the phone. I'm actually living in a model home in a brand new subdivision. Long story. I need you to come get me, like, yesterday.”
“I'm with the other fella' I told you about. We have been traveling north for hours now assuming you were up here somewhere. How do we get to you?” Grant was motioning to Aaron for a pad and pen.
“After floating down rivers, running through the woods, literally, dodging bullets, and so on and so forth, I've wound up in a little town in New Jersey called Lebanon Hills. The problem is that I traveled through a bunch of thick woods to get here. I can't call anyone for directions to where I am. I can't ask anyone where I am. You see my dilemma?” Mac was beginning to get overwhelmed again.
“Yeah, OK, um, there's no one around. I mean you are obviously hiding out all alone, right?”
“Yes, in a sweet little pad, I might add. Well actually, hold on for a sec.” Mac looked outside the window to where the construction company was working. “Hang on Grant. I have an idea.”
Grant just nodded as if Mac could see him. Mac opened up the front door and spotted the same older man who asked about the clearing of the property before. “Excuse me, sir?”
The man started walking towards him. “I know we've been here a while longer than expected. The noise bothering you?”
“No, no, actually I have a question for you. I have a prospective buyer on the phone. They are coming up here from the Southern states. I've only lived here for about three months now. Could you give them directions?”
The owner of Beaver Hill Construction was glad to help. He grabbed the phone smiling. His curly black and gray hair partly covered the earpiece while his gray and black mustache seemed to engulf the mouthpiece. “Hey pal, where are you coming from?”
Grant just shook his head at what the smooth attorney had just pulled off. “I am coming from I-95, I think I'm in Maryland now.”
The Whisper Box Page 22