“Well, yes, as a matter of fact I was. May I join you?”
Sally would look around as if this was the only seat available. “It’s a free country,” she would say and gesture toward a seat across from her. After that it was a simple matter to inquire about the person’s situation and circumstances. She had a way with people. After a drink or two it was easy for Sally to get the person to talk.
Sally never gave out her real name nor anything more than the simplest of honest details about herself. When pressed, oftentimes she made up a fantasy story, a different one each time. And she never allowed the man to pick up her check or touch anything personal. She made sure the waiter cleared away the dishes before they parted, lest the other person get her fingerprints off a glass. You never knew who was spying on whom. Not that it mattered, but Sally enjoyed spy novels, and had learned a thing or two. Sometimes she pretended it was a game and play-acted the role.
At the end of the day, alone in her room, she would write out her report by hand and put it in an envelope to mail the next day. The envelopes were already stamped and pre-addressed to a different post office box each time, in and around D.C. Sally was careful not to lick the envelopes, but her fingerprints were all over the paper. There was nothing she could do about that but try to wipe them away. It seemed a bit silly, but she was instructed the reports had to be done this way, to avoid having anything on her computer. The pictures were another matter. But Sally had been taught how to transfer them to a tiny memory chip and erase them from the special cell phone, provided. The memory card went into the envelope with her report, and every week or so she destroyed the phone and got another. Using the phone seemed somewhat conspicuous to Sally. But, she soon learned that people thought nothing of seeing a cell phone in someone’s hand, even if it was pointed right at them.
The gentlemen and women targeted were airplane manufacturing company bigwigs and foreigners visiting the company headquarters. Rarely was it a politician, although they were persons of interest. Sally did not talk long with politicians, nor meet with them afterward. It was important to arouse no suspicion.
Sally had an uncanny ability to peg people right away. She made a private game of guessing their age, occupation and marital status as they entered the plane and took their seats. Later, as she met them she would try to find out how close she came. She usually guessed right more than half the time. Sometimes she had a perfect record. She could easily spot the bodyguards for the more important passengers. Some of them were so obvious! The one type that she had trouble spotting was the Federal Air Marshals. She knew they were on the flight somewhere, but they were so well trained in disguises that she was rarely successful in picking them out. It was a challenge for her, but mostly a process of elimination. If they weren’t something else, then they must be Air Marshals. None would ever own up to it, and so how would she know? She wished she could tell, because she might need one someday.
~~~~~~
Another Work Day
The alarm clock vibrated at Nate’s bedside. He had set the ringer on vibrate the night before. Even so, he shut it off immediately so as not to disturb Nan. She needed to rest after the busy day yesterday.
No such luxury was afforded Nate. Quietly he moved to the bathroom and shut the door before he turned on the light. He would take his shaving kit and toothbrush downstairs to the guest bathroom. No need to wake up the house, although he doubted that an earthquake would disturb the kids before noon. His bags were packed, his clothes had been set out the night before and coffee was waiting in the kitchen. Nate poured his first cup of coffee and went about getting ready for work. Only when he reported in for duty would he learn what city he would sleep in tonight. It could be any airline or any flight, a different one each time. He would be gone for three or four days before he saw his family again, traveling around the country, on first one flight and then another. The idea was to never be seen on the same flight twice, and never to become a familiar face to the flight crew and, most of all, the bad guys.
His height worked against him somewhat, but he compensated by wearing different clothes, hats, and sunglasses. They were not obvious disguises, but just non-descript and different from the outfit he wore yesterday. He had learned to vary his walk, the way he held his body, the timing of his speech, his accents and facial expressions.
The one thing he couldn’t avoid was always carrying a case--a bag or backpack of some kind. In his checked luggage, he had a half-dozen different ones all of which were plain and simple on the outside but very special on the inside. His sophisticated communicator and weapons were well-hidden from view and available within a split-second’s reach. They were manufactured from top secret high-tech components, impervious to airport security.
Nate traveled under any number of different names and identities. One of his problems was remembering who he was today. It helped that he always used the same first name, not his own, of course. He had to be friendly, but not too friendly with whomever his seatmate was at the time. Nate often took an aisle seat toward the back of the plane, so that he could observe everyone. But, even that was carefully scheduled, so that he wasn’t always in the same place. Sometimes he sat in first-class. There could be others, like himself, on the same flight. Nate never knew for sure.
None of his friends, nor anyone in his family knew his actual occupation. They thought he was an airline pilot. Well, that wasn’t so far off. He was licensed and could pilot almost any plane, in a pinch, if called upon. But, for the most part his job was not that glamourous. He liked to think of it as weeks of well-paid boring days, doing nothing except be prepared for a few seconds of abject terror.
~~~~~~
Paradise Valley
It was already past noon when the younger Goodrich sibling crawled out of bed, blinking at the bright light. Joy made her way into the bathroom for a quick nature call. Slipping into her favorite soft jeans and baggy sweatshirt, she padded barefoot into the kitchen.
“Hi Sis,” said Rob, “How goes it?”
“Mmmm,” grumbled Joy as she stumbled toward the coffeemaker.
“I’m afraid that’s cold,” said Rob. “Here, have a sip of mine while I warm yours up.” He handed his cup to Joy and turned to get a fresh one out of the cupboard. Filling it to within a half inch of the rim, he set it in the microwave and hit the thirty second button twice.
Joy stared, set the cup down, and shoved the hair out of her face.
“Sit down,” offered Rob as he pulled out a seat.
Joy sank onto the stool and leaned her chin on her hands, elbows on the counter.
A minute later Rob placed the cup of coffee in front of her along with a spoon, a bowl and box of cold cereal. He took his place across from her and silently shoved the sugar bowl and carton of milk across the kitchen island toward her.
Joy automatically added sugar and milk to her coffee and stared at nothing. She took a sip, testing the coffee, and then continued slouching on one elbow while drinking.
Rob opted to wait for her to come online for the day.
After a few minutes, Joy straightened up, reached for the cereal and filled her bowl half way. She added milk and sugar and began to eat. Slowly life was returning.
Meanwhile Rob refilled his coffee and made toast.
“Toast?” he asked, as he placed a small plate of toast onto the island counter.
“Thanks,” said Joy, swallowing the last bite of cereal.
Rob removed her spoon and empty bowl to the dishwasher, opened the cupboard for peanut butter and the fridge for strawberry jam. “Here,” he said, as he placed a butter dish and a knife along with the other items.
Joy managed a half smile as she began to slather her toast and take the first bite. “Help yourself,” she said.
“No thanks, I’m good,” said Rob. He leaned back and took her measure. “Congratulations on your honors,” he offered.
She nodded, “Thanks.”
“I always knew you were the smartest one,” he smil
ed.
“Not true,” she shook her head, “not true at all.”
“What do you mean, not true?”
“Being book smart doesn’t count when it comes to life, does it?”
“Huh?”
She leaned on her hand, again, sighed and looked defeated.
“What do you mean, life?” Rob prodded.
“Men!” she exclaimed, as if he should know.
“Oh that,” Rob stifled a chuckle. “I have the same problem with women.”
“Oh, you do not,” she countered. “Women just fall all over you. You have your pick.”
“I beg to differ,” he denied, weakly.
“Ha!” she huffed and swatted at the hair in her face.
Rob eyed her closely and reached for the toast and butter. “I guess I’m still hungry.” He leaned back and took a bite. “So, tell me,” he said, “what brought this on?”
Joy shrugged and sniffed, “I was so stupid.”
“I doubt that.”
“Yeah, I was,” she insisted.
“So, what happened with Mr. Big Wheel College Man?”
“That’s just it. You’ve got it exactly right.”
“Mm,” Rob nodded and worked on his toast. “Left you high and dry, I take it.”
“Not funny!”
“Then what?”
“Well, maybe he is the one left high and dry.”
“I see,” said Rob.
“Do you?”
“Well, I can guess.”
“Go ahead, you tell me.”
“Okay, if that is what you want,” Rob had to make sure.
“Yeah,” she said, looking straight at him fighting to keep the tears from escaping.
“Well, okay, I’m guessing that Mr. College Man thought he should receive special favors in return for spending his good money on taking you out.”
She nodded.
“And so, depending on what kind of a man he is, maybe he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
“And so, you, being a nice girl, tried to be polite.”
She nodded.
“And he, being stronger, became too aggressive.”
She looked up at Rob in silence, feeling chagrined.
Rob reached for a box of tissues and handed them to her. “How did you get out of it, Joy?”
She looked away.
“Did you shove him, hit him?”
Joy nodded, took a tissue and blew her nose.
“Did you get away?” Rob asked, fearing the answer.
“Yes, I got away. He started calling me awful names. I opened the door and ran into the house,” she sobbed out and started crying in earnest. “Awful names!”
Rob reached for her hand. “Honey, you did absolutely the right thing. And you are none of those names. He is a jerk.”
“Really?”
“Really, as true, as true as the world is old. You did just right, and he knew exactly what he was doing.” Rob waited. “Do you want me to go beat him up?”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“That’s what big brothers do, hon. That’s my job.” He waited.
“I guess you don’t need to do that,” she answered. “He’s probably through with me.”
Rob laughed. “I think you are a whole lot smarter about men than you thought. You’re right. He won’t be around again. He’ll move on to greener pastures. There are lots better men out there. Men who will treat you with respect. Just wait.”
Joy managed a half-smile.
“There is only one reservation about this. That is, if he should start spreading lies about you, I want you to tell me. I’ll fix his wagon.”
“Thanks, Rob.”
“You’re welcome. There will be more and better men in your life. Don’t worry. Just remember, I’m here. Anytime you need me to check out a guy, just call. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said with a big smile. “I’ll remember that.” She rose and started clearing the dishes away. “But, what do I do if you’re not around?”
“Well, first of all I still have pals here in Paradise Valley. Just send me an SOS. But, second, and I know you don’t believe this now, but you have a father who will understand and will protect you with his life. Not all girls can say that.”
“Oh, I’d die if Daddy knew.”
“Probably you would be embarrassed, but someday you may need him. Hang in there, hon. We are both here to protect you. And don’t overlook your wise mom, when you need advice.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. Moms have a sixth sense about these things. They can spot a phony around their daughter in seconds.”
Just then, Nan walked into the kitchen. “Hi kids,” she said.
“Hi, Mother.”
“Did you get something to eat?”
“Yes, we’re good,” Rob answered. “I’ve put my cooking skills to work.”
Nan smiled, “Toast and cold cereal, I see.”
Rob clutched his heart, “You wound me.”
“Not at all,” said Nan. “I’ll be glad to let you cook dinner, if you want. Looks as if it is too late for lunch.”
“Okay, you’re on,” said Rob. “I learned how to cook at my mother’s knee. Let’s see, where’s the number for Pizza Hut?”
Nan laughed and turned to Joy, “Did you have a good time at the party, hon?”
“Great time, Mom.”
“That’s good, honey. These are memories you will always cherish.”
Joy and Rob gave each other meaningful looks.
“That bad, huh?” said Nan.
“I told you so,” muttered Rob to Joy, under his breath. They both laughed.
“What’s so funny?” asked Nan.
Joy looked at Rob for help.
“Inside joke, Mom,” said Rob. “You’re the best.”
“Thanks, Rob, I think,” she retorted. “So, what are your plans this afternoon?”
“Um, well …” Joy shrugged.
“I’m meeting some of the fellas,” said Rob. “You want to go along?” he asked looking at Joy.
“Well, I guess so. Depends on what you are doing.”
“Nothing great. But, we plan to meet at the rec center and hang out, maybe do a little bowling, play some pool, be back here in time to watch the ball game, get supper for the three of us and anyone else who wants to come along.”
“Isn’t Daddy home?” Joy looked at Nan.
“No, honey, he had to go to work early this morning.”
“Oh,” Joy’s voice fell. “Well then, sure, Rob, thanks for dragging your little sister along.”
“Oh baby, you don’t know how much those guys have begged me to bring you.”
“Sure, right, and pigs fly, too.”
They all laughed.
Rob chucked Joy under the chin and smiled. “Be ready at 1:15, Okay?” He turned to leave the room.
“I’ll be ready, and thanks,” said Joy to his retreating back, thinking how Rob had changed since he left home. It was like the frog had turned into a prince.
Nate -THE SEARCH –
Dorothy May Mercer
Chapter 3 Nate
A Typical Evening on the Job
T he Yellow cab pulled up in front of the Airport Marriott. Nate waited while the driver popped open the trunk and hurried around to open his door. Carefully glancing around, Nate saw nothing unusual. Dressed in soft slacks, a knit golf shirt and jacket with comfortable sneakers on his feet, Nate alighted from the cab, an aging cloth briefcase in his left hand, his carry-on bag in his right. Setting the smaller bag atop the other, he steadied it with one hand while he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill—one that he has previously selected from his wallet. Nate knew the exact cost of this cab ride, plus a twenty percent tip, rounded up to the nearest dollar. He had learned not to fumble with a wallet when exposed, out in the open like this. It was a small detail, but his safety depended on attention to a lot of little things
.
“Thank you, sir,” said the cabbie as he pocketed the bill and walked back to the driver’s side.
Meanwhile, the hotel doorman had lifted Nate’s one larger bag from the trunk of the cab. “Welcome to the Marriott, sir,” said the doorman. “Checking in?”
“Yes,” said Nate as he grabbed the handle on his carry-on bag keeping it close and making sure that his body protected the bag. He could never let anyone else touch this special suitcase. “I’ll take this one, and you can bring that other bag up later. Just leave it in the room.” He handed the doorman a tip.
Less than a minute later, Nate pulled out the long handle of his bag, and wheeled it up to the counter. He had been in this city before, but never this hotel. While he was fond of the Marriott chain, he could never stay in the same hotel twice. If possible, he stayed in a different hotel each time, sometimes near and sometimes farther away from the airport. All this silliness might seem right out of a spy novel, but if he was ever discovered or “unmasked” by America’s enemies, he would be disqualified for this job. Anonymity was essential. Since 9/11, no terrorist had succeeded in taking down an American airliner thanks to the diligence and expertise of this hidden army of which Nate was a part.
Nate placed his cloth bag on the counter, and kept his left hand on the other bag. He pushed one of several credit cards toward the clerk. He carried four sets of identity for this four-day trip.
“Welcome to the Marriott,” she said as she picked up his credit card and glanced at the name. “Do you have a reservation, Mr. Galloway?”
Nate shook his head no. Nate did not always make reservations. Sometimes he would make a reservation and cancel it, and sometimes he would stay at a different hotel without canceling the first one.
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