Recon

by David McCaleb

  A Kenny Rogers tune blasted from Red’s jeans. Shit. The ringtone from Carter. He slipped fingers into his pocket, fishing for the phone.

  Lori eyed his hand. “If you want to get something out of those pants and practice tonight, better leave that thing in there.” She lifted her chin. “My work phone’s off. Sato’s right. They can deal without me for a couple weeks. Same goes for Carter.” She jabbed a finger onto the dash. “This is our time.”

  But Carter had so far been good to not overburden Red with too much detail on the investigation. When he called, it was always for good reason. Red glanced at the white tip of Lori’s index finger pressing the dash pad. She was right. He needed to match her attitude, to be as proactive about the family as she. He lifted the device, glanced at Lori, sighed, then held down the power button.

  The screen flashed Goodbye then!

  Chapter 4

  Cog Railway

  Red gripped Lori’s hand, careful not to squeeze her fingers too tightly. Cool morning air chilled his cheekbones. Standing next to a narrow mountain road in Manitou Springs, Colorado, he waited for a black BMW sedan to pass, then started across. Lori was on his uphill side, looking even taller than usual. Blond hair gathered to fall like a horse’s tail down the back of her black fleece vest. Penny followed, looking bored, no doubt desiring independence. Still, she never lagged far. Her blue school backpack was crammed with snacks, water, and extra clothing for the ascent.

  “It doesn’t feel so cold,” she said.

  Red smiled. “Not down here.” He pointed up the mountain, past the tree line, to a bare, rocky crown. “But at the top of Pikes Peak, some places still have snow. Trust me. You’ll want that hat and coat once we’re there.”

  They stepped onto the sidewalk, and Lori stopped. “Look at that, over the city.” She pointed.

  Deep gray clouds rolled from the south, stretching over half the valley below, dividing it into brilliant light and menacing shadow. From their current elevation, partway up the side of the mountain, the storm moved at eye level, a microcosm of darkness in an otherwise clear sky. Black streaks as from an artist’s brush angled to earth, then disappeared halfway. The sky offering rain, then gobbling it up by evaporation before it ever watered soil. A brilliant lightning bolt flashed, arcing a crooked pattern to the valley floor.

  It was amazing how far you could see in clear, dry air. On the East Coast, targets started to fade in a shade of hazy blue after just a quarter klick. Out here, it must be twelve klicks across the Colorado Springs valley, yet the green of the pines on the far side looked almost as deep as the spruce right across the road.

  Jackson and Nick were most likely still asleep in the basement of Red’s sister’s house, down somewhere in the bright portion of that valley. She’d taken a few days off from her work as the Office of Naval Intelligence liaison to NORAD. Driving into town only yesterday evening, Lori had managed to score tickets on the cog railway to the top of Pikes Peak, but at the expense of having to get up at 5:00 a.m. to be ready in time. The boys were probably too young to care anyway.

  They stepped beneath the weathered wood portico of the station and walked down concrete stairs to the platform. Two long, red train cars with wide, open windows rested at the bottom. It was the same bright shade of an Italian woman’s dress in an oil painting hanging on a wall of their living room. Lori had been the artist, but since hadn’t picked up a brush for years. Lots of things get pushed aside when children come into the picture, Red mused. Near the edge of the platform a woman, still plump with pregnancy weight, black tights stretched to the breaking point, struggled to fold a double stroller outside one car while her husband cradled sleeping infants.

  Red pointed to the lead car. “Let’s get that one.”

  They sat in high-backed wooden benches facing each other, like a restaurant booth without a table. The angle of the rails up the mountain eased him back into his seat. Morning sun warmed his nose. Through the window blew scents of cotton candy and springwater. He listened, but heard no burble of a mountain stream. Only the low hum of idling diesels and the creaking of branches sawing against each other, rubbed by wind. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. Penny leaned against him, and he took her under his arm.

  “Tired?” asked Lori.

  He cracked an eye. “Not bad. I’ll catch a few winks on the way up.”

  “You can’t, Daddy,” scolded Penny. “You might miss something.”

  A corner of his mouth turned up. “You have fun. I’ve done it before. Spent more time than I’d like to remember around these mountains.”

  “Daddy’s been driving a lot,” Lori said. “Let him sleep. We’ll wake him at the top.”

  Penny shook his arm. “No. I won’t let you.”

  He leaned his cheek against a window post, skin to cold steel. The muffled vibration of the diesels spun higher as the train eased ahead. Now hauling up the mountain, the car pitched back even more, till he was reclined as in a bed. Penny’s tugging stopped and the gentle rock of the tracks took over. He closed his eyes as the conductor mumbled and the crowd laughed and the mule pulled.…

  * * * *

  She was a large mule, eighteen hands high with muscles taunt and sinews thick from hauling her burden up the tracks. The animal glanced back to see what was upon the sledge but received a whip of leather on one flank. “Get up there, girl!” called the driver. The cart was stacked high with railroad ties just like the ones lying near her hooves. She was harnessed to a couple of horses, and another team like hers pulled from the opposite side of the railroad bed, tugging the load between them. Four horses and two mules in total, all with thick winter coats, like herself. Sweat ran down her legs and froze in crystals on the tips of her bushy brown hair.

  Cool water gurgled across rocks and grass next to the tracks, the sound quickening her deep thirst. With winter approaching, the river seemed to sleep. In spring it would thunder again. But now the sound of a waterfall, weak as it was, spurred the entire team to pull harder, leaning into leather.

  Soon the driver sounded the command they desired. “Whoooa.” He pressed wood to wheels, unharnessed each team member in turn, and led them to a pool where they could drink as much as they wanted before continuing up the mountain. The mule lowered her head, whiskers brushing the clear surface, then plunged dry lips into the cold, delicious liquid. A blessing to thirst, but a curse to her stomach, the frigid fluid causing it to cramp.

  A flash of sand-colored fur sprinted across the tracks. She jerked her head high at the unmistakable musk of mountain cat. The stupid horses, still in their harnesses, neighed and bucked, spilling the load, pulling one hitched team atop the other.

  She tossed her head again, yanking the reins from the driver, and turned to meet the predator. Puffs of dust rose where she pawed the ground with a hoof. The cat…

  * * * *

  “You OK?”

  Red jerked awake. He yawned and rubbed his eyes with thumbs. The window was still down. Penny was on Lori’s side now.

  His wife’s hand rested on his knee. “You looked like a dog chasing a rabbit in its sleep.”

  Penny laughed. “You were funny, Daddy. Your leg was twitching. But Mommy said not to wake you. You missed the waterfalls.”

  Red lifted his arms and stretched. “Somehow, I don’t think I really missed ’em.”

  Lori patted the seat next to Penny. “The view’s better from this side now. Conductor said in a minute the trees will be out of the way and it’ll be a good time to take a picture.”

  Red slipped in next to them and gazed out the window. The glass pane was still down, and the temperature had cooled since the bottom. A Korean woman from the opposite side of the aisle in a white tennis visor stood gripping a video camera in one hand, steadying herself on the bench with the other. Toward the rear of the car sat a thick-necked man with close-cropped hair and flattop, an Army cut for certain.
Probably Fort Carson.

  As Red turned back to the clear sky out the open window, he noticed a tall potbellied man behind Flattop. The lanky fellow sported black sunglasses and ball cap with the purple Baltimore Ravens mascot on the bridge. The face was familiar. He’d seen this guy recently. Red closed his eyes and let his mind flash through the morning, through yesterday, tracing their trail back down the interstate, dinner at McDonald’s, breakfast at Denny’s, slamming to a halt the previous day in Charleston, West Virginia.

  He put a hand on Lori’s arm, leaning to her ear. “Don’t be obvious, but look at that tall guy at the back of the car. Ever seen him before?”

  Lori smiled and took a photo out the window. As she lowered the phone, she stole a glance. They rested elbows on knees, hunching below the cover of the opposite seat. “No,” she whispered. “Why?”

  “Take a look at the woman next to him. She’s wearing a purple cap and puffy green vest, but picture her with a round belly in tight pregnancy jeans.”

  Lori straightened and pretended to take another picture. Another glance. Her eyebrows lifted as recognition spread across her face. “That pregnant woman at the gas station. But she’s not pregnant now. I knew she was making it look too easy. But it may not be her. Maybe someone who just looks similar.”

  Red stood and handed his phone to the Korean woman filming just over his head. “Excuse me, do you mind taking a picture of my family?” She smiled, nodded, and accepted the device. They switched seats so the rear of the railcar would be in the background of the picture. “Try to get the whole car, so we can show folks at home how many people were in here.”

  She nodded again and pressed the button.

  “A few more, just in case?”

  Another nod, more photos, and she handed the phone back.

  Cradling the device between them, Red and Lori reviewed the pictures, zooming in on the man and woman in the back. In each shot, their heads were down looking at a magazine or turned to the side, obscured by other passengers.

  Lori turned up a palm, speaking low. “I think we’re being paranoid. You can’t tell from these.”

  “Which is why I think we’re being followed. They’re evading. They don’t want to be photographed.”

  “Or they’re just reading tourist brochures and you’re being paranoid.”

  “I don’t forget faces.”

  Lori leaned back, nodding slightly. “True. What do you want to do?”

  “This train is a slow mover. I could grab one, jump off behind those boulders, and interrogate.”

  Lori blinked and stared at him blankly. “You shouldn’t be allowed to roam in free society. What if you’re wrong? Maybe my boss told them to follow since someone tried to kill me a few months back—they could be on our side. Plus, you’re not the only one carrying a weapon. This is Colorado, you know. There’s lots of other pistols on this train. One of them makes you as the bad guy, and you’re a casualty of friendly fire.”

  “I could be nice. Just sit down across from them and ask. Play it as it comes.”

  Lori closed her eyes. She covered Penny’s ears and whispered. “If I were a tail, that would be a definite sign of aggression.”

  “So?”

  Another sigh. “Dial up the fact that we’ve got families here, ours being one. Plus, they’d lie and we’d have no way of proving it. A good tail has flawless backstory.”

  “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “You? Nothing. Me? I call work and see if my boss ordered a tail. If not, we catch a better shot of them later, email it to my work, or to the Det, and have them run facial recognition through the databases.”

  Red pressed an arm against his side, hugging his pistol. Maybe Carter was right. For having been shot by a wet team in a brazen but disastrously executed hit a few months ago, Lori seemed unconcerned about the possibility of having a tail now. Maybe she knew who was following them and was disguising her lack of action under the pretense of protecting family. That’s not the way you protect loved ones. If a threat exists, identify it, face it, and eliminate it. A simple, uncomplicated method; an operator’s modus operandi. Red lived by it. But Lori wasn’t an operator, he considered. She’d lived a stint as a field agent for the CIA, but that was financial intelligence, fintel, spook work. And a spy’s instincts were cautious. To be invisible. Maybe that was why she wouldn’t face this threat head-on.

  Lori pulled the phone away from her ear. “What the hell? No signal.”

  “We’re almost up to tree line, near the back side of the peak. Probably won’t have signal at the top, either. Sure you don’t want me to just ask them?”

  Lori’s eyes bulged. “No!”

  He lifted both hands in surrender. “OK. We’ll just sit here and play with ourselves. Gotta love vacation.”

  * * * *

  Red gazed out the front train car’s window as it approached the top of Pikes Peak. Tracks sloped upward next to a concrete loading platform in front of a sprawling visitor center. Weathered brown paint peeled from the wood trim of the low-roofed structure, which was lined with expansive picture windows. Ice melt pooled across the packed-clay path next to the train. From inside, the end of the tracks appeared as a ramp launching into pale blue sky. Twenty feet short of ramming the safety buttress, the car jerked to a halt. The conductor mumbled, “Sorry folks. New brake pads.” Everyone stood and turned to the door as if deplaning.

  The car’s wide observation windows had been shut after reaching the tree line to keep in warmth. The conductor opened the door, and a cold rope of air wrapped around Red’s shoulders. The visitor center roof still held a few inches of snow, plugging gutters. Morning sun was melting the mass, dripping from frozen stalactites at the corners. Ravens Fan was already inside studying souvenir coffee mugs next to a window when Red stepped off. Red straightened his back, trying to look tall.

  They shuffled from concrete onto wet clay and hurried with the rest of the passengers inside. The souvenir shop was packed with displays of worthless tourist crap. Key chains and hoodies and polyester blankets. Korean and Chinese visitors teetered down narrow aisles between an occasional booted Texan, the men in big white hats, the women with hair teased and sprayed to match. An elderly man with an aluminum cane spoke in guttural German near the entrance to the bathrooms, pulling a wallet from a front pocket. Two slender men with sculpted calves spoke what sounded like French as they clattered across terra-cotta tile on lightweight bicyclists’ shoes. Seven thousand feet vertical from Manitou Springs, the bikers must’ve started up the long road last night. But in the dark? Difficult, Red thought, since it was a crescent moon.

  He gripped Penny’s hand and hurried out of the stifling crowd, toward scents of sweet cooking grease and orange juice. “Breakfast? Let’s snag some of those doughnuts the conductor was talking about.” He ordered a dozen from a sleepy-eyed girl in a Colorado College sweatshirt. Penny plopped into a booth, and he squeezed next to her on a vinyl-clad bench, table scented with chlorine spray.

  Lori stood, stretching a leg. “No thanks. Feels like I’ve been sitting for days.”

  The booth, built into one corner of the visitor center, provided a clear vantage of the entire shop, crowded as it was. Penny was licking powdered sugar from pink lips, red hair clips holding flapping pigtails. Damn. Ten already. Boys were still gross, but how long would that last? Red put mouth to paper rim, breathing in coffee steam, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to need a few more of these to stay awake.”

  Lori’s chest rose as she inhaled. “Think I need a doughnut. I didn’t have breakfast and now I’m light-headed.”

  Red was feeling it too, but not from skipping a meal. He was in excellent shape, but they’d lived the last decade at sea level and now were over two and a half miles in the air. He lifted his head. Ravens Fan was standing in a bathroom line at the far end. Red muttered across the rim of
his mug, covering his lips, “You keeping an eye on our friend?”

  Lori slipped intocross from him. “I don’t think they’re alone. That Chinese guy in the blue parka next to the entrance. He’s just hanging out there, looking at the same key chains. Problem is, they’re all tags with English names on them. He greeted that old lady in fluent Mandarin. I mean, he could easily know English, but…”

  One way to find out. Red gripped the table and started to slip out of the booth.

  Lori grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. He’s glanced toward the Ravens guy a few times. If it was CIA tailing us, they wouldn’t send two teams. So we’re going to test, to make sure. I’ll go out the side door, to the observation deck. The parking lot is that way too. A tail would keep an eye on me, especially near a parking lot. Either one of them follows, then we know.”

  “And we snatch them?”

  “No! Then…we just know.”

  Which gets us nowhere, Red thought, wiping a drop of condensation from his nose. “What? So I just take a nap until you say it’s OK to do something?”

  “No. You sit here with Penny. I’ll be back soon.”

  She cradled her phone in one palm, pressed the camera app, dialed it to video, and hit Record. Red stared at her heart-shaped ass in low-rise black jeans as she stood and held the device inconspicuously, walking toward the side door, across the room from Mandarin. The Chinaman glanced at her and then studied the key chains more intently. He tapped a phone and lifted it to his ear. Right. There was no reception up here. Though he could be using an intercom function, Red considered, if his audience was close.

  When Mandarin’s back was turned, Red tapped the table softly and leaned toward Penny. “You stay here, sweetheart. Don’t move. Have another doughnut.” Red wasn’t leaving her alone. He was only going a few steps away. He slipped out and stood behind a display of wooden puzzles with panoramas of Pikes Peak silk-screened onto them, the exhibit closest to Mandarin. Red peered between shelves, but couldn’t hear what the man was saying into the phone.