by Rob Wood
He drew Cochrane to him, hugged her, and turned to push some of her tousled brown hair off her cheek and forehead. At the same time, he flicked his glance back along the path they had traveled. One of the shadows quivered, shifting from black to gray and back.
“I think I see some movement in the shadows,” he whispered to Cody. “Let’s keep walking. Don’t look back.”
“Who is it?”
“If I had to guess,” said Purdy, “it’s someone in a baggy jumpsuit—like the bio fuels uniforms Cao’s guys use.”
“Could be we’re a bit paranoid.”
“You say that, but you mean I’m paranoid. I’m not. Paranoia is a delusional condition. You kick in enough doors in hostile neighborhoods, you have no delusions. You learn to be careful.”
“What can we do?”
“Sneak up behind him.”
“But he’s following us!”
“We’ll cut into the next alley. I’ll give you a boost up to one of the tenement fire escapes. You take him out when he’s right underneath you. And hit him hard! I don’t want him drawing a bead on me with a gun.”
“What makes you think he’ll be on our side of the alley—right underneath me.”
“Because that’s where we’ll put the bait.”
“What bait?”
“Me.”
They turned abruptly into the next alley, as if to make a getaway. Purdy cupped his hands against his thigh and boosted Cody to his shoulders. From there, she could reach the last section of a metal stairway, pulled up into a loose zig-zag along the side of a tenement.
Cochrane swung forward, lifting her feet straight out, then snapping them down, pulling up at the same time with her arms. She lurched up, high enough to gain some purchase and crawl along the horizontal metal section.
Purdy sprawled on the ground beneath her, face down, groaning.
The night sounds filled up the alley. The whisper of footsteps came again, hesitated, then burst into a gritty staccato, loud, fast and unchecked. Suddenly a shadow loomed over Purdy.
“Lieutenant!”
“Lily?” gasped Cochrane, already arcing down like a whip, about to drive her feet into her target’s kidneys. She lifted her knees, but still hit shoulder high, toppling the target forward.
Lily somersaulted over Purdy and skidded left into a three-point position: hand, knee and foot on the ground, like a sprinter. Her wide eyes took everything in, flicking from Cochrane to Purdy.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” said Purdy, getting up. “It was an act…to draw you in. We thought you were one of Cao Kai’s goons. You look it—Sunrise Biofuels jumpsuit and all. How did you get away?”
“Cao Kai left me in a room, half naked, with one of his guards,” Lily said, straightening up and brushing herself off. “It was no contest.”
“Something’s happened to your fashion sense, Miss China.” Cochrane looked Lily up and down. “You look like Rosie the Riveter after a Pritikin diet.”
“Don’t know what that means, but thank you. I always liked Rosie. Very Marxist.” Lily held the sides of her jumpsuit away from her body. The loose fabric spread like a kite, narrow at the shoulders, narrower at the heels, and broad in the torso. “Unfortunately, this is all there was to wear. He wasn’t a big man, but still . . . . The boots are the worst part. I can’t walk well. I shuffle.”
“Did you take anything else?”
“His cellphone. Some cash. He didn’t have anything else, except an airline ticket to New Orleans.”
“Our guys, too. For the 14th?”
“Yes. I’m sure it’s important to Cao’s plan. He has the Daiichi nuclear material aboard a Venezuelan crude oil tanker that’s supposed to dock at LOOP—the Louisiana Offshore Oil Port.”
“Offshore . . . oil port,” stammered Cody.
“How’d he get it aboard a Venezuelan tanker?” asked Purdy.
“My experience with Cao tells me he has contacts everywhere,” replied Lily.
“When Hugo Chavez was last in Beijing peddling oil, Cao Kai was handling security,” said Cochrane. “I remember seeing the news footage. I bet every time the Vens are in China, Cao’s been there. He’s had some time to build up contacts.”
“And it’s Shanghai Fitting and Valve equipment on that tanker,” put in Lily, “Special equipment that will introduce highly radioactive material through LOOP and into America’s Strategic Petroleum Reserve.”
“The SPR? That’s the target?” Purdy was shocked. “That’d be a blow to our defense readiness, the Homeland Security boys, the national pride…”
“And to oil markets,” added Cochrane. “That’s his play. You can make a lot of money if you know when the price of oil is going jump off the charts.”
“And his plan is to leave Venezuela’s fingerprints all over the nasty parts,” said Lily.
“How’d you learn all this, Lily?”
“Cao told me.”
“Son of a gun. Well, I bet he isn’t happy that you’re on the loose and ready to tell the world.”
“I expect he’s looking for me.”
“No shit.”
“The airline tickets,” said Purdy. “If whatever plan Cao Kai has to poison the SPR crude oil comes down on the 14th or shortly thereafter . . . well, Venice, Louisiana, and LOOP would be accessible from New Orleans.”
“We’ve got to stop him,” said Cochrane.
“I think it’s time to plug in the big boys. Now that we’ve got two cell phones, I’m ready to call Suitland,” said Purdy.
“Why does it take two phones?” asked Cochrane.
“Because as soon as we make the call, that phone will be no good to us. Each phone has an international mobile equipment identification number attached to it. We call Suitland and start talking about this plot … or even identifying who we are, and they’ll flag the IMEI number. Next thing they’ll plot the time our signal takes to reach a couple of nearby towers to triangulate our location. They may even ping the phone. That’ll locate us within a yard or so. Trust me, they’re very good at this. And they’ll look for any other call we make on that phone. So it’s a useless phone. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be found, because that’ll mean we can’t go to New Orleans.”
“Call Navy Intel at Suitland,” nodded Cochrane. “It’s now or never.”
Purdy punched in some numbers and started talking, ticking off the passing time on his fingers. After three minutes, he said, “That’s it,” and hung up.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Purdy. “We’ll have to outrun both the Feds and Cao Kai.”
“And what if they don’t believe us? If it’s on us, I don’t think we’re much of a threat to Cao Kai. Alone, unarmed, the three of us constitute the ultimate paper tiger,” said Cochrane.
“My ship, the Lucky Lady, follows me like a shadow,” said Lily. “I, too, placed calls. She’ll meet us in New Orleans. We won’t be alone. And we won’t be unarmed.”
Cochrane was about to say something, but the words caught in her throat. A pair of headlights twinkled at the far end of the street. The lights came right at them, welling up in the narrow concrete canyon like a sunrise.
43
ON THE LAM
“Cops or Feds. Already? Jesus!”
“I don’t think so,” said Purdy. “Listen to that muffler. It’s a little too loud. The government’s much too fastidious to have a leaky muffler.”
“Definitely not the cops,” smiled Lily.
“What is this, then?”
“This is our car. Unless you want to run away to New Orleans on foot.”
“You’ve been making other calls.”
“Yes. I’ve made it my business to keep track of Uighur communities—everywhere. Even in the U.S.”
It was a black 1998 Dodge Caravan. Well, black and orange really, because rust was eating away at the rear wheel wells. It slowed up beside them and the driver stepped out, leaving the engine running. He t
rotted over to Lily, nervous and excited, muttering in Uighur.
Lily put her hands on his shoulders and dipped her head in a small bow. The man blushed, backed up a step, and snapped a salute. Then he was gone, jogging off down one of the narrow side streets.
Lily smiled and shook her head. “That was Jun. He gave us his car. He even made the title out to us. To me, specifically. He says he’s part of the Uighur resistance, even though he lives in America. I’m grateful. We all should be grateful.”
“Does it run?” asked Purdy pointedly.
“It’s got 220,000 miles on it. It runs well, he says. The left front strut is badly rusted. Jun said we might lose it in a pot hole.”
“We’ve got a few hundred miles to drive. Probably never see a pothole,” Purdy said drily.
“Do you see another option parked here?” Lily’s voice rose a half-step.
“No. Don’t take offense.” Purdy shook his head. “We go with what works. And traveling as a soccer Mom is like slipping under the radar.”
“Soccer Mom?” Lily raised her eyebrows.
“Minivan slang. Let it go,” said Cochrane. “Let’s saddle up then.”
“I’ll drive,” said Purdy.
They took Mosco to Mulberry, then turned left on Canal to pick up the Holland Tunnel into New Jersey and interstate 78.
“You know the way?”
“Generally,” Purdy said. “I made a similar run to New Orleans in my wild college youth. My plan is to stick to the interstates for time, but we can always watch for U.S. 11—it’s the old route, runs all the way from the Canadian border down to New Orleans.”
Cochrane reclined her seat. She stared at the car ceiling, which was sagging in half a dozen pockets where fabric was no longer adhering to the roof. The seat upholstery was fried in several places from cigarette burns.
“How long?” she asked.
“Figure 24 hours with stops.”
“That’ll put us in New Orleans in the middle of the night. Why don’t we stop half way, get some rest, arrive fresh?”
“I lifted what I could from the guard in our room—but I’ve only got enough cash for gas,” explained Purdy.
“I’ve got a sister outside of Asheville,” said Cochrane. “I’d like to see her. And why not now? We can crash there.”
“Why involve her in this? What if we’re being tailed?”
“That’s debatable. And being fed and rested and resupplied at her house…that’s a certainty. And you know, I haven’t seen her for a very long time. What if this is my only chance? We’re this close, I figure I’d like to do it.”
“I’d like a change of clothes,” said Lily.
“Well, I admit I’d rather pull into New Orleans in the daytime with the rest of the working world—not with the night hawks,” said Purdy. “That’s a little showy.”
“Wake me when you turn off for Ashville. Some of the back roads can be interesting,” murmured Cochrane. In a moment, her regular breathing told them that she was asleep.
“This is as much as I’ve ever seen of the United States,” smiled Lily, shaking her head.
“Not much to see here other than highway and toll plazas.”
“And road signs,” returned Lily.
“Is that so different than China?”
“In China, we have signs announcing the coming of the ‘Like English Gentlemanly Corporate Park of Heaven’….and, of course, we have signs urging good work habits and filial piety. Many different sentiments, but all orderly and similar in appearance. Not like the confusion of messages here: Sleep here, vote for this, call if you’re pregnant, have faith. It confirms what many Chinese people think of America.”
“And what’s that?”
“A country out of control. Americans will say anything or do anything. The Chinese believe in control. They don’t want to let their 1.3 billion people off the chain. They are, what do you call it?—‘risk averse.’”
“Well, some Americans don’t like the road signs for aesthetic reasons, but there is a lot of tolerance for different ideas here. Not acceptance, necessarily, but tolerance. And there’s always been a belief that advertising is good for business. Small towns off the interstate depend on that. That’s what you’re seeing along the road—both business and philosophy.”
“Sure, it’s just very different than China. Except maybe this sign: ‘Next exit: beer, gas, fireworks!’ That sounds very Chinese.”
Purdy chuckled. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“So, have you slept with her?”
“Her who?”
“Cochrane. You know we Chinese are very direct. We think nothing of asking personal questions about age, money. . . and other things.”
“I understand. I take no offense. But you’re wrong if you think Americans all behave as if we’re in an R-rated movie. And besides, I think it’s none of your business.”
“I’ll take that as a “no.” Which is a mistake. Life is short. I think the idiom is ‘Get it on!’ she smiled. “And besides, she likes you.” Lily pursed her lips. “What do you feel about her?
Purdy frowned.
“Come on, Lieutenant. That question is not impertinent. Let’s get the ball bowling….”
“Rolling. ‘Get the ball rolling.’”
“Right. To get the ball rolling, let me say that I admire frankness in a relationship. I like you very much, Lieutenant. And I like Miss Cochrane.”
“How exactly?”
Lily smiled. “I could say that’s none of your business.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “But what I really want to say is this: You treat one another with respect. You treat me as an equal. These things run counter to my experience. And, you are not driven by prejudice, by dogma …but by facts. You think first, then act. And when you act, you seem to have absolutely no fear. There is nothing, seemingly, that you can’t do.”
Purdy was silent for a moment. This was high praise from this woman. Was it true? He wished it were. “Let’s revisit that subject if we’re successful in stopping Cao Kai,” he said finally.
“Some people wouldn’t even try,” she whispered under her breath.
They drove on in silence, until it was time to wake Cochrane for the side trip down to Asheville.
44
MY ASHEVILLE MOUNTAIN HOME
Cochrane helped them navigate through the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Clusters of forlorn, wind-racked little houses were randomly huddled up against the side of the highway. The roads meandered like varicose veins almost all the way to the swank bedroom communities of Asheville.
Now this was an area of prime real estate! Her sister’s home bore this out. Reached by a winding drive, almost a mile from the mailbox, it was blessed with a spectacular view of the surrounding hills.
“My sister’s a doctor in Asheville, Cochrane said. “Oncology. Her husband Tom teaches school there. They have a little girl, Megan, who’s in third grade, I think. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
They gathered on the porch stoop, where Cochrane turned and said, “Thanks for stopping here, Purdy. It means a lot to me.”
“Well, you were right about breaking the road trip up so that we could rest. Maybe they could loan us some cash, as well.”
No sooner had he spoken those words than the front door opened. A tall, pale woman peeked out from the front door, opened only as far as the security chain would allow. She was still in her pajamas. Her lank hair fell loose to her shoulders.
“Bed-head?” said Lily, pointing. She drew the two words out slowly, trying the sound out on her tongue, the idiom in her mind.
The woman bristled. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Lily, assessing the beautiful Asian woman in baggy fatigues. She turned from one to another of the threesome on her porch. She was slow to take all of this in.
“Martha?” Cochrane said. “It’s me, Cody.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Cody—are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Yes,” Cochrane said.
“No,” Purdy, objected.
Lily was silent.
“Come in out of the night,” said Martha. “All of you.” She put her arm around Cody’s shoulders and drew her in. The others followed.
“Sorry to break in on you at this hour,” Purdy apologized.
“I’m a doctor,” said Martha, snapping into her role as crisp professional. “I’m up at all hours. Happy to do it…especially for family. Can I get you anything?”
Since no one responded to that question, Martha sat with Cody on the couch in a big open room with vaulted ceiling and a glass wall that looked out towards the Pisgah National Forest. A Zeiss wildlife spotting scope pointed out the window. A child’s blanket and a toy kitchen leaned against the couch. The plastic peas and carrots had spilled out on the floor.
Martha took Cody’s hand. “What’s this all about?” she asked. “Are you running from something?”
“The CIA. Maybe the FBI. I’m sure Naval Intelligence would like to know where we are. And also a Chinese thug named Cao Kai.”
The words hung in the air of the silent room.
“Well, I’m glad it’s not serious,” Martha deadpanned.
Cody broke into a combination of giggles and tears and hugged Martha to her breast.
“It’s so good to see you, Sis,” she laughed. “Sorry it had to be like this.”
“I don’t believe you or your family are in any danger because we’re here,” Purdy put in. “We’re not criminals. We’re just guilty of working outside the system on this, violating a few protocols.”
“And what exactly is ‘this’ that involves the government and a Chinese….what did you say, ‘thug’?”
“Bastard,” Lily corrected.
“This is Lily Zhang,” said Cochrane, starting in on introductions. “And this is Lieutenant James Purdy, USN. The lieutenant and I are part of a Naval Intelligence unit. We met Lily and Cao Kai in China. We believe Cao is working on his own—without sanction from Beijing—to engineer a spike in NYMEX oil futures. It’s a national security issue because he intends to do this by contaminating the Strategic Petroleum Reserve with radioactive waste.”