Alexander, Spy Catcher

by Diane Stormer

  He came over to stand by my bed. “I’m going to hang out here with you overnight while you’re in the hospital. You lost quite a bit of blood from that gash on your head, and you need to rest. The doctor told your mom that you’d be well enough to go home tomorrow if you stay quiet.”

  “Have they found my uncle yet?”

  “Not yet. We think we’re making progress though. Your tip about the taillights paid off. We found the auto parts store the new lights were ordered from—and the girl that works there identified the man that picked them up as Major Davis.”

  “I’m glad he did something to incriminate himself. I guess my story was a little bit hard to believe. Any luck finding him or that other guy?”

  “There was no sign of anyone out in the woods. Whoever did this to you got away before we could get our men back out there.”

  “What time is it?” I struggled to sit up. “I’ve got to show you the tunnel!”

  “Not so fast, Alex. It’s 11:30 at night. Tomorrow is soon enough for whatever you want to show me.”

  Dave reached in his pocket and handed me a pair of glasses. “We thought you’d be glad that we found these for you.”

  I put them on. “That’s great, but I’ve still got to show you where I was. You need to see the tunnel.”

  “What tunnel, Alex?”

  “I mean the tunnel that goes from our house out to the old tracks!” I said a bit impatiently. “I think that’s where the men were spying on my uncle from. They might have even held him captive there—although if they did, he was gone by time I got there!”

  “Alex, I don’t want to upset you, but I don’t know anything about a tunnel. Perhaps you’re still confused from the knock you took on the head.”

  I tried to sit up again. “I’m not mixed up … or dreaming … or anything, Dave. There is a tunnel. I was in it, and then the men came back to get the last of their things out of there. That’s how they came to be chasing me! I want to show it to you right now. Where are my clothes?”

  I started to swing my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Come on, Alex. I promised the medical staff here that we would wait to debrief you until after you’re discharged. You know I want to see where you’ve been, but there is no way that the doctor will release you before tomorrow morning. That’s the earliest—if you rest tonight like you’re supposed to!”

  Dave picked up his suit jacket from where it hung on the back of the chair, and said, “I’m going to call your mom to let her know you’re awake—and more yourself.”

  “Where is Mom? Is she back at home?”

  “She stayed with you until a couple of hours ago. She was exhausted, and I convinced her to go get some sleep.”

  “I remember her being here earlier. She has gone through so much already—even before this happened.”

  “We know about your dad. He was a real hero. That’s another reason why it’s important for you to rest now. She doesn’t need anything else to worry her, does she? Lie down while I go make that phone call.”

  Dave left the room, closing the door behind him. I felt sleepy and—though I didn’t want to—I was soon back asleep.

  I slept fitfully for the remainder of the night. It seemed like every time I’d fall into a deep sleep, a nurse would be at my bedside waking me back up again. I later learned that this is what has to be done to make sure that a person with a concussion is able to wake up, and is not having worsening problems from their injury.

  Chapter 17

  Early the next morning, a nurse came in, took my temperature and blood pressure, and then removed the IV needle from my arm. After breakfast on a tray, my doctor came in, checked me over, and pronounced me well enough to go home.

  As he was turning to leave, he added, “Take it easy for a while. Stay off of your bike, and don’t do anything strenuous. No playing video games today Alex, or even doing homework for that matter. I want you to rest your mind, as well as your body. Come in for a checkup at my office next week, and we’ll take those stiches out then.”

  Dave had slept in the chair in my room and was going to drive me home.

  I peered in the bathroom. The area around my right eye was black, blue, purple, and tinged with orange and pink! My eye was swollen almost completely shut. My temple was bruised—and I still had the bandage on my head.

  Dave grinned at me. “The doctor gave you quite a buzz job over that ear. I’d have to say that you’re pretty much bald under that bandage.”

  I grimaced. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. They had to shave you so they could stitch the wound up properly. Hair grows back. At least for someone your age it does.”

  He handed me some clean clothes, “Here, put these on. Let’s get out of here and go back to your house. The K–9 team brought the dogs back to the property to see if they have any better luck this time.”

  “The search dogs are back?”

  “Yes, they should have been there at daybreak.”

  A nurse came into the room with a wheelchair. I had to ride in it down to the lobby. I felt self-conscious as she wheeled me down the hall; it felt like everyone we passed was staring at me.

  There was a lot of commotion when we arrived at the house. The handlers had been out with the dogs since early morning—just as Dave had predicted.

  Ben said, “Wow! You sure do look awful. Can you even see out of your eye?”

  Without giving me a chance to answer, he said, “Guess what! The dogs found the tunnel to the railroad tracks. There really was one!”

  Mom came hurrying into the room and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back home. I stayed with you as long as I could, but there were so many things I was expected to be here for. Last night we decided that Dave should stay with you. The FBI wanted you to have a guard, and you’d already met him here earlier. I hope you understand.”

  “Sure, Mom, of course it’s okay. I’m not a baby anymore. I slept practically the whole time anyway. What’s Ben saying about the tunnel?”

  “The dogs tracked Charlie’s scent from the railroad tracks to a tunnel. Can you believe it? There really is a tunnel from our house! They lost the trail after that though. The men are down there right now. It seems to have been swept clean—and they tell me there probably isn’t much to go on.”

  “Mom, I found the tunnel yesterday morning. That’s where the men chased me from!”

  Steve came into the room and said, “Mrs. Scott, I know that you are concerned about your son, but it is important that he talk with us so that we’re up to speed. Time is critical right now.”

  He smiled at me and gestured to the sofa. “Alex, why don’t you sit down? We need to find out exactly what happened to you yesterday.”

  “Sure. Don’t worry, Mom. I’m okay—really I am. I just look bad.”

  I sat on the couch and Steve placed an audio recorder on the coffee table in front of me, and switched it on.

  He said, “We’re going to record this so if we have questions later, we can play it back, rather than keep bothering you. Just talk naturally, Alex. Tell us as much as you can remember from the time you left the house yesterday morning until we found you in the back yard.”

  I looked up and saw Dave leaning against the wall. He nodded at me, and said reassuringly, “Do your best, there are no wrong answers. We just want to know what happened.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I walked up to the railroad tracks, mostly just to sit and be alone and think. I felt like there was something missing in my understanding of how Charlie could have disappeared the way he did. Like when you work a crossword puzzle and there is that one clue that, when you finally get it, it makes it a whole lot easier to do the entire remainder of the puzzle? Well, I knew I had the answer. I just couldn’t see it—at least not for what it was.”

 
Steve nodded and said, “Go on, Alex. Did you figure it out?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “A while back Ben and I, along with some of our friends, got the idea to look for a tunnel connecting our house to the railroad. Mom actually started us thinking about it. My friends and I searched inside the house, but we didn’t find anything. We only really looked for it once anyway.”

  “I went back again later by myself. That was when I found a small knothole in the paneling in the study and felt a breeze coming through it. Yesterday, I realized that the breeze had to have come from somewhere. That was the clue. The wind I felt had to have a source. I thought a tunnel, especially one that was open on one end to the outside, could be that source.

  “Plus, it was in the study that Ben’s remote car had acted in an erratic way. My uncle’s computer is in the study and, though I still don’t understand how those men could have known there even was a tunnel— let alone found it— it made sense that someone could be in there, using some kind of surveillance equipment to steal Charlie’s research. So, yesterday I started looking around by the old railroad tracks for the outside entrance of the tunnel. I got lucky and found a camouflaged trail!

  “Moments later I was at the tunnel entrance. The hatch door was rusty, but I got it open, and went down into the tunnel. Charlie wasn’t in there. Then, Davis and some other guy came in while I was looking for him. I hid, and could hear them talking about equipment and Uncle Charlie.

  “My shoe must have left an imprint in the dust and they noticed it. I was really scared that they knew where I was hiding. After a while, the lights went out and it seemed like they left. It turns out they were tricking me into coming out of hiding though. They gave chase. One hit me on my head with something heavy and sharp. I guess you know the rest.”

  Steve said, “For the record, you’re certain that the man that chased you in the tunnel was the same man that you saw through the window—and also was in the pickup? Can you identify him as Major Davis?”

  “Absolutely, I have no doubt that it was the same guy.”

  “Alex, we’re going to get a sketch artist out here. You saw the second man’s face at least for a moment, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. “He was pretty average looking, but I’ll do my best. There is one thing I just remembered. When I was hiding, I heard both of them refer to a third person, someone they called Bill.”

  Savannah came bolting into the room, and I broke off what I was saying.

  Chapter 18

  “A message!” Savannah yelled, waving an envelope. “A courier just delivered it. It must be from Dad. Oh I hope it’s from my dad!”

  “Wait!” Dave said, “We can’t risk contaminating the evidence.” He went over to the desk and opened a briefcase.

  He put a couple of plastic bags on the desk and pulled on thin rubber gloves. After inspecting the envelope, he slit the top and withdrew the paper with a pair of tweezers. He gripped it by the top corner and shook the letter open. He slipped it into one of the plastic bags and sealed it.

  “Now you may read it.”

  Savannah took it from him with trembling fingers. After reading it through, she smiled at us all. “My dad says he is fine, though it is a strange sort of message. The wording doesn’t sound like him. Here, Dave, you read it.”

  “Dear Savannah,” Dave read aloud, “I am okay for now. You must be blue. Don’t forget to hug Anna and the kids for me, and remind Lillie to feed Quincy. My hosts have allowed me to send this to show that I am alive. Love, Daddy”

  Dave strode over to the door and handed the note and its envelope, which was also in a plastic bag, to one of his men.

  “What an unusual message,” Mom said.

  Dave paced. “It must be written in code,” he said. “Mrs. Scott, I believe your brother was trying to send a message.”

  Mom nodded her head in agreement. “That must be it. He’s trying to tell us something. Charlie never talks like that. If it weren’t for the handwriting, I wouldn’t think it was from him.”

  “You must be blue? What the heck does he think we’d be? How about frantic! Charlie wouldn’t choose that expression. And feed Quincy? Who is Quincy—and why would we want to feed him?”

  “Do you suppose that it is a code for something happening at meal time?” I asked.

  “Could be—but why the name Quincy?” Steve asked.

  Lillie, who’d slipped into the room, was tugging at Steve’s sleeve.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I know who Quincy is.”

  Steve looked at her with surprise. “Where did you come from, little girl? I thought you were at your aunt’s house.”

  “Oh, she brought me back, I was homesick.”

  Aunt Rose waggled her fingers to us from the doorway, and asked if there was news of Charlie.

  Mom motioned for her to come over and sit with her, whispering that she’d fill her in in a few minutes.

  Lillie said, “I really do know who Quincy is.”

  “All right,” Steve said. “Tell us. Who is Quincy?”

  “Quincy is … Uncle Charlie’s belt.”

  “Quincy is your uncle’s belt?” Steve said. “Well, well, that certainly is a different approach. His belt, you say?”

  “Yes,” Lillie said insistently. “It really is. Once, Ben and I were fighting while we were in the car stuck in a traffic jam. This was mostly because Ben was picking on me—for nothing!”

  “Sure Lillie,” Ben said.

  Lillie ignored him. “Anyway, Charlie took off his belt and used it as a puppet. He said that it was Quincy the worm. Then he took off one of his socks and put it over his hand to become a bird puppet named Maurice. He made up this great play about a smelly bird who was outsmarted by a worm that he wanted to eat. It was funny. Yes, sir, Quincy is Charlie’s belt.”

  Ben and I nodded. “Lillie is right,” I said.

  Dave drummed his fingers on the table. “All right, let’s assume that the code name Quincy is a belt—and that it doesn’t have anything to do with food or mealtime. What else stands out in his message?”

  “Wait!” Savannah said. “Hold everything! He said you must be blue, which we all agree was an odd word for my dad to choose. The beltways that run around the city are color coded. They loop around the city. Some parts of the Blue Belt are residential, and in some places it is a busy road with traffic lights. If Quincy means belt, he is saying the Blue Belt! It means he’s near the Blue Belt. He’s trying to tell us where he’s being held!”

  Dave grinned at Savannah. “Hey, that’s really good. It seems to be a workable theory. What’s more, if Dr. Massey is still here locally, then our chances of being able to find him are much more favorable.”

  He turned from us to confer with Steve and two other field agents. After a few moments, the men excused themselves and went into the study where they had set up the mini command center. They closed the door behind them.

  After they left, there was an empty silence. No one seemed to know quite what to do. Ben announced that he was going up to his room to play video games. One by one, everyone trickled from the room until only I remained.

  I felt left behind and out of the action. When I was in the tunnel, my only thought was to get away. But now, even that seemed better that than being left to this.

  I went over and put my ear to the study door. The voices were muffled so it was hard to understand much of what was being said. Part of the discussion seemed to center on questioning if Charlie’s captors were connected to the situation over in England—whatever that meant. Steve said they should pull more closed circuit television footage from the traffic cameras, but the rest of the conversation was lost on me.

  I moved away from the door and sat at the piano. I played a few notes, thinking hard about what I knew. What puzzled me as much as anything was how an ou
tsider could know the tunnel was there. How would someone find out? Was it an intentional discovery? And what did the tunnel have to do with everything else?

  A plan began to take form. The first step was to go to my room and retrieve Mom’s magazine. The author of the article was Sarah Young. There was no Sarah Young in the local phone book, so I flipped to the front of the magazine and found the phone number to reach the editor.

  The next step of my plan did not go smoothly. The editor wouldn’t give me her home phone number, but he offered her email address. Time was of the essence and I wanted to talk to her right away. I wasn’t sure how to convince him how important it was for me to reach her. If I started talking about spies and secret tunnels, he’d never believe me.

  Just as I was ready to give up, I told him that we lived in one of the homes that Ms. Young had included in her piece. Well, that was different. Yes, he guessed he could give out the number after all.

  Sarah answered on the second ring.

  I came right out with who I was and why I needed her help. She said that she would be happy to give me any help that she was able to. She said she knew exactly which house was ours.

  “Actually, I happened upon the tunnel angle quite by accident. I was doing background reading and such, preparing for writing the piece, when an old newspaper clipping caught my attention.

  “I was reading an account of how a wealthy gentleman of the area had met with an untimely demise. He had been hit by a train. It was an obituary-type write up. The tunnel was just a small mention—the irony that someone so accustomed to traveling by train would die in such a fashion. It sparked my curiosity.”

  “Was this his home?” I asked.

  “No, it was one several miles across town from yours. However, I found in the Department of Transportation archives that your home also had rail access. Perhaps I should have tried more persistently to contact your family. I was writing this piece in June and I had a deadline to meet. I was scheduled to fly over to Europe in early July. I only just returned last week.