by T V Scribner
She remained by the door, wondering what he was going to do. Dave, was laying in a pool of blood, which still exuded from his slashed throat, like slow-moving Ketchup. She put her hand on Boone's shoulder as he squatted, with one arm on his knee, and the other hand closing Dave's eyelids over his unfocused eyes, then wiped his own brow. How could this have happened? He had no words.
Paisley, swore she heard his voice crack, as he asked her to dial 911. He just stared with shock and disbelief, at his close friend, so brutally murdered, laying dead, on his carpet. She could smell the coppery odor emanating from the pooled blood, while her heart went out to Boone, as he spent a few moments grieving.
Fading back, into the hallway, she gained her composure, then stepped back in the room, and picked up the phone on the desk, "Yes, 911, I'd like to report a murder."
Meanwhile, Boone mentally compartmentalized his emotions, which enabled him to spring into action. He looked around, viewing the room as a crime scene, as per the bureau's procedures. With a determined look on his face, and lips grimly pressed together, he went to his office and gathered his satellite phone, computer, guns, and ammo, from a hidden compartment in his small closet.
He put clothes, watch hats, and heavy jackets into a duffle bag, while Paisley hurriedly retrieved several of her belongings, she’d left, from her stay the other night. Handing her a duffle bag she stuffed her things inside.They both headed outside with their gear, tossed it in the back seat of the truck, then Boone said, "Wait here, Ingles."
"Yes, sir!" She climbed into the truck, and moments later, Boone slid onto the seat, taking extra precautions, by looking up and down the street to see if they were being surveilled.
“Whoever went to the trouble of killing the people in our immediate circle, is not going to give up and go home, so I'm taking some precautions."
Feeling it was safe enough to leave, he sped down the alley, skidded around the corner and headed down a street which would take them out of town as fast as possible. They hadn't gone far, until just as Boone suspected, a black sedan with darkened windows, pulled out from a side street and followed at a safe distance. He expected this, and quickly devised a plan. Ducking into a side street, he drove back to his cabin, where the police cars had just pulled in, and parked in front of the cabin, knowing this would cause the mystery car to hang back.
He quickly circled around the back of his cabin, and coming around again, he pulled behind the unsuspecting sedan. They were close enough to the sedan, to enable Paisley, to get a license plate number. Spooked, the sedan, tore off down the street and around the corner, with Boone on its tail, until Boone swerved into a side street, and headed in the opposite direction, and turned into a small commercial area. He parked behind a row of cars, at a local repair shop.
"Hey, Ingles, time to change vehicles," and after looking through the parked cars, he chose a van this time. It was an older model painted a sable color—like most vans—and he jimmied the door. Fortunately, he found the keys under the driver's seat this time, and after transferring their gear to the van, they waited for half an hour, until the sun attempted to rise.
Driving a block or two, he removed a new phone from his duffle bag and dialed the police station's dispatch operator. He read her the license plate information, along with a description of the sedan. “Please pass on the information to one of the detectives,” he said to the operator.
"Where to now, Mr. Boss Man?" Paisley quipped, although she wasn't sure he was ready for lighthearted humor. He managed a slight grin, but she apologized anyway, “Sometimes levity helps," she said
"No worries.”
His attitude under these circumstances impressed her, and she began to feel guilty, because after all, it was only because he tried to help her, that all this trouble transpired! Boone turned into a fast food place, and ordered a quick breakfast for both of them. There were dark glasses on the van's dash, which he donned, and as soon as the food was ready, he paid for it, and they left. The sky darkened, as more clouds moved in, which gave them more cover.
Pinecrest, Minnesota "We have another stop to make," he said. “…we’re going to the police station."
"What for?" Her eyes widened with surprise, as he pulled up to the back entrance of the precinct.
"Go to your office and retrieve all copies of whatever you were able to decode, along with the flash drive and any other pertinent information. Also, please bring your computer—I hope it wasn’t in your car?”
She thought about this for a moment and said, "Won't it be dangerous for me to go in there now? Aren't we likely to be detained by the officers working today? What if they already have the report of the murder, in your apartment?"
"Don't worry about that stuff, I'll make some calls on my SAT phone, while you're retrieving the materials. It'll be fine."
“Okay," she said stepping out of the car, "I guess you know what you're doing!"
Since Millie didn't usually come into work, until nine or ten every morning, she felt safe entering through the side door. Hurrying down the corridor, she accessed her office, and rushed to the safe. All the contents which related to the case, were put in her beloved briefcase, along with her laptop.
After looking around, she added the necessary cords, paper, pens, and pencils, and shoved them into a portable file case. Once she had everything, she hurried into the hallway, closed the door, and looked up and down the corridor. Suddenly she ran back to her office and grabbed a small printer. Luckily, there was no one coming, so she let herself out through the outside door, and piled with equipment, she struggled into the waiting van, after placing it all on the back seat.
“Whew! Okay," she said, "let's make our getaway!" Boone chuckled softly and said, "Clearly, you've been watching too many cop shows!"
CHAPTER 32
Staying off the main roads as much as possible, the two detectives headed east, through Pinecrest. The heavily clouded sky cast a gloomy pall over the landscape, as they passed through Brainerd, continuing east, onto MN-18. It would be about twenty-five minutes, before they reached the small town, of Garrison, nestled next to Lake Mille Lacs. Boone appeared to be deep in thought about some purposeful mission, so they drove in silence. A light rain began to fall, with the promise of heavier rain, as the day progressed. Finally, they approached Garrison, slowing as they arrived.”
Garrison, Minnesota “Hey Ingles, here we are, in Garrison! It’s a small town, with a population of around two hundred people. It’s only a half hour or so from Brainerd, and located next to the second largest lake, in Minnesota, called Lake Mille Lacs. It’s huge, almost like an ocean— you can’t even see across the lake, to the other side. I read this in a brochure, when I was here a month ago.”
She thought about this, “You sound like an expert…does Minnesota, really have ten thousand lakes?”
He laughed, “It does!” Then added, “There it is, The Lazy Loon Inn! Two weeks after I arrived in Pinecrest, I stayed here when I went fishing with a few of the guys from the precinct…kind of a get acquainted thing. There’s a small cabins way back in the woods with a perfect place to park the van. It’s very secluded. The beer in the bar isn't bad here, either,” he added, and turned to her and smiled.
Accepting his smile, she countered, "Sorry to inject some practicality into this situation, but how do you propose we pay for this?"
"I always have several backpacks, with small canvas pouches packed with money, a fake ID and anything else I might need, to get out of town—fast. Naturally, I grabbed one of my backpacks, so we're all set."
"Aha! More of your covert, cloak and dagger stuff." She laughed.
Grinning, he glanced at her, put on a ball cap and his dark glasses--validating her cloak and dagger comment--then drove just far enough past the cabin rental office, so she wouldn't be seen, from the office window.
"I'll be right back, stay in the van," and he hopped out and entered the office, returning several minutes later. "Well, Mrs. Davis, looks like we have th
e end cabin, way down by the woods, Cabin 17…hope that meets with your approval?"
She stammered and sputtered for a moment, "But...?"
"Take it easy...it's necessary for us to disappear, and that's our alias...we are officially married and undercover, this is what we cloak and dagger people do," he said with a grin. “Now, we have a little time, to figure all of this out."
"However, not to change the subject," she said, “but if we're going to be working with computers, I hope the internet works in this luxurious back-woods, hideaway, in the boonies!”
"Yep! You can count on it. Lots of business people come up here to get away from it all, but they're still able to use the internet to stay in touch, with the outside world."
He drove the van down the dirt road, past all the cabins, and turned left onto a smaller dirt road leading to the last cabin, Cabin 17. It sat deeper in the woods than the other cabins, and was the farthest away from The Lazy Loon Inn’s office. They climbed out of the van and carried the gear inside, then Boone hid the van behind the cabin.
The cabin itself, was typical of the area. Made of logs, a wooden door, with a window on either side, and a cozy back-woods look. They entered and it seemed chilly, since the heat hadn't been used for a while, so Boone turned up the thermostat, and started a fire in the fireplace…not so much for the heat, but to take the dankness and chill, out of the room.
Paisley glanced around the cabin, with its spartan furnishings, before setting her bags next to one of the two, over-stuffed chairs. They were predictably upholstered with fabric sporting different varieties of fish, on a forest-green background. The one-room cabin had twin beds in one corner and a kitchenette in the other.
She turned on a floor lamp with a yellowed- parchment shade, laced with thin strips of leather, which sat between the two arm chairs. A worn, oval braided rug, sprawled across the floor, from the beds on one end of the cabin, to the hearth on the opposite side of the room. A pinewood coffee table, was positioned close to the two chairs, while a door on same wall as the beds, led to a small bathroom.
Boone carried the equipment inside and set it on a kitchen table of dark-stained wood, which had been pushed against the kitchenette's bar. There were two straight-backed chairs, meticulously scooted underneath. He draped his jacket over one of the chairs, but the crowning glory of the room, was a swag light made of intertwined deer antlers, which hung over the table. It served as the only other light in the room.
The knotty-pine walls held two pictures, one was a framed print of a deer standing in a forest, and the other was a print of a wolf in snowy woods, peering through the firs, with glowing eyes. Paisley, not enamored of the art work said, "That wolf picture is creepy,” and she pointed it out to Boone, who was bringing in the rest of the gear.
He eyed it, agreed, and changed the subject, "While you unpack the equipment and set things up, I'll jog to the little market by the road, buy some groceries and make a call, to my men. What supplies do we need?”
She could see the coffee maker on the counter, and checked the lower cupboards, to make sure there were pots and pans available for use also, then said, "Coffee, for sure, and something for sandwiches, I guess?"
"Got it! Now, please lock and deadbolt the door, and don't open it for anyone, but me.”
"Of course,” and she carefully locked and bolted the door, as instructed.
Entrenched in Cabin 17, Paisley set the computer on the nearby kitchen table, along with the small printer, connecting them both to their adapters, and plugging the adapter cords into a nearby wall socket. Okay, Detective Boone, she thought to herself, I hope you're right about the internet!
The computer was turned on, and booted—success! Next, she inserted a flash drive. The information contained, was displayed, so she printed it out, to have it ready for Boone. With printouts stacked on the table, she searched for something to do, while she waited.
She decided to investigate the upper cupboards, but unfortunately, just like the Old Mother Hubbard rhyme, the cupboards were bare! Still bored, she ambled over to the stuffed chair, and eased into it, deciding it was a comfy place to wait for Boone's return.
On his way back from the store, Boone called Riley, who already knew who it was, and answered, "Boone, hey—you okay?"
"Yes, my wild ride to find Ingles took a radical turn, but both of us are fine now. However, before I go into that, I need to know everything you've discovered from the surveillance, because I think we've reached the critical point for this operation."
Riley debriefed him, "We intercepted emails, which Misha translated for us, and the surveillance men discovered a camouflaged encampment, in uncharted territory, in the Cayuna wilderness, about two to three hours, out of town.”
Boone reacted to this information, by saying, "Well, that checks a few boxes for me, right there!"
Riley continued, "The wire taps on Zolotov's house, revealed he had men stationed in various houses, all over the Pinecrest/Brainerd area, and now, his men are amassing, in preparation for a covert migration to their encampment."
"Fantastic!" Boone said, and mulled this over for a moment, then asked, "And, do you have the coordinates of this encampment and information, as to their purpose?"
“All we know is, there are vans packed with military-type equipment. The men are dressed in Spetznez KLMK (mountain pattern) uniforms, and there are several vehicles containing some sort of electrical or perhaps scientific equipment. They've been moving a little at a time, so as not to draw attention to their activities. Some of this information has been gathered by our drones.”
"I assume their equipment is going to the encampment?"
“Yes," Riley said, "and our spotters saw computer gear and food supplies in some of the trucks, at their encampment, but some of the other vans and trucks were covered—so who knows?"
"Great job!" Boone said, pleased that Riley's team had been so successful. "What about the actual computer intercepts? Do they reveal what they're up to?"
"Of the computer intercepts captured, several are highly encrypted and we're working right now on the decryptions, so we can forward them to your computer. Included in the text of the intercepts, are some sort of coordinates, but we can't make out what they are, yet"
"Perfect! Keep probing and send me those intercepts over the secure link as soon as you can. Detective Ingles is a Computer Forensics Specialist, and she's with me now, so we'll work on it too."
Riley said, ”Will do, Boone."
"I'll be in touch, as soon as we have something. Meanwhile, gather the men and equipment, and be ready to go, as soon as I give the word. Sorry I've been off the grid for a bit, but Detective Ingles and I have been through a dangerous ordeal. It's a long story for another time, but suffice it to say, we are still in danger and forced to keep a low profile, and I believe this group is responsible!"
"That reminds me," Riley interjected, "you might be interested in knowing the men spotted two large helicopters--without any markings--hidden in a makeshift hanger in the woods, at their camp."
"Hmmm...thanks Riley. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more info.” He discussed a few more business items, to be taken care of, regarding notifying the precinct and Ingles' Aunt. Boone gave Riley their contact information, and relayed the story they were to be told. "Thanks again, Riley. Over and out."
"Roger that," and Riley hung up. Boone put away his SAT phone and headed back to the cabin, while Paisley dozed in her chair. Awakened by a knock on the door, she rose instantly, her heart pounding.
Tip-toeing over to the door, she asked, "Who is it?" in her sternest voice.
When she opened the door, Boone was laughing and said, "From the tone of your voice, it's as if you expected to hear, ‘I’m the big, bad wolf, and I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down’…”
She felt silly for being scared—but relieved—and laughed, as her fearfulness evaporated. Boone carried the grocery bags to the counter, set them down and emptied them. As soon a
s the can of coffee was set on the counter, she snatched it up and opened it.
Filling the coffee pot with water, she glanced over her shoulder, "What took you so long?"
Boone apologized, filling her in on the call to his men. He explained that they had been be worried about him, because, “Except for a short phone call from my apartment, all they knew was, I'd dropped off the grid for longer than expected. I recounted what happened, as succinctly as possible, and told Riley, to cover for us at the precinct, including contacting your Aunt to let her know it would be best if she stayed in the cities to be safe, until things were wrapped up here."
"How did you get hold of her?"
"Easy! Her number was taken off the house phone, when your Aunt left several messages for you.” Paisley began to ask another question, but Boone interrupted her, mid-sentence, adding, "Yes, Millie was contacted also, and told to be careful."
"Just like that?"
"Yes," he said, "just like that." He hesitated for a moment, then a serious look appeared on his face.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that, what's wrong?"
"I didn't want to tell you like this, but maybe it's best." The look of fear on her face concerned him, but he continued anyway, "Riley disclosed something to me about your Aunt. “When she was called, she wanted you know…your Uncle passed away."
She stood, staring at him. Not sure she heard him, he started to say it again, but before he could repeat the words a second time, a pained look fell across her face, and tears began to slide down her cheeks. She stood perfectly still, not making a sound.
Boone wasn't sure what to do, and stepped over to put his arms around her, to comfort her. It felt awkward, because he wasn't sure his comfort was wanted, but he did it anyway…his heart went out to her, as he felt her sadness. They stood like that for a minute or two, until she lifted her head off his chest and stepped back from him.