Plain Sight

by Katherine Rhodes

  “Isn’t that why Miss Birdie is with us, though?”

  “Yeah. Yeah it is, bud.”

  He pulled back from me and I desperately smeared the tears off my face. “I like her, Daddy. A lot. She’s very brave.”

  “She is, isn’t she?”

  “Do you like her, Daddy?”

  Smiling, I gave him a nod. “I do, D. I do.”

  “I think Mommy would like her, too. I think she’d like how much she makes you smile now.”

  My eyes were burning again. Jesus. He thought my wife would approve of this woman. What the hell did I do with that?

  “She kind of reminds me of Black Widow.”

  That broke my tension, and I couldn’t stop the laugh. “That’s a pretty good description of her.” I grabbed the faucet and turned it on. “It’s time to hose off and dress kiddo. There are things afoot at the Circle K and we have to get ready.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “I think we’ll probably be having Burger King again,” I said.

  “Can we have Arby’s instead? I’m getting tired of chicken fries.”

  I laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” I pulled the shower lever, and the water dumped onto him, soaking him again, but washing all of the soap off him.

  After pulling him out of the shower and drying him off, I tried not to push too fast to get him dressed. We had to get everything together.

  So while he dilly-dallied through his dressing routine, I started repacking the go-bag with everything. The toiletries, the clothes, the odd supplies that had come out of it, like the sleep sacks.

  I opened the nightstand, and realized that the gun was there waiting for me. There was no way to avoid having Dylan see this.

  “Dressed?”

  “Just missing my shoes, Daddy.”

  “Okay, listen to me, Dylan. We’re going to have move very quickly when the door opens again. What do you have out there?”

  “Shoes and my iPad, and my puzzle books.”

  “Have you been keeping everything together like I asked?” He nodded. “Good kid. We’re going to have to move quickly, so when I say so, I want you to grab the iPad and puzzles and put them in the bag. Depending on how much time we have, we might put the shoes in the bag as well.”

  “Are we on a secret mission?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We are.”

  I looked in the drawer with the Ruger and the holster. We were buttoned up, and ready to run. Literally. “Come here, Dylan.”

  He pitter-patted over, and stood next to me.

  “We’re on a very secret mission, okay. I don’t want you talk to anyone but people Miss Birdie and I tell you are okay to talk to. So Fari, Miles, Miss Peterson, the kids. They’re fine and safe. But from here on out we have to watch who we say things to. We can’t give our mission away and people have a way to sneaking information out of other people. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  I picked up the holster and gun. “Daddy and Miss Birdie are going to be carrying guns. This is the one I have. I’m going to wear it so you can’t see it. But I wanted you to know we have them.” I buckled it on and tucked it under the cloth of my pants. I pulled the gun out and sat on the bed. “This is dangerous, Son. I don’t want you to touch this one or the one that Birdie has. Pretend it’s like the stove, it’s hot and dangerous so keep your hands off.”

  “Can’t I learn how to use it?”

  “You can, but we don’t have time to go through everything. Caring, cleaning, loading, unloading, putting it away, making sure it’s locked up. There a lot to do with a gun. So for now, I just want you to be safe and not touch it.”

  “But I can learn?”

  “When we have some real time, I’ll show you.”

  “Pinky swear?” He held the digit up.

  “Pinky swear.” I shook it with my own finger.

  I snapped the gun into the belt and made sure it was in there tight. I stood and moved the bag to the door as the phone pinged in my pocket.

  MP: You’re going to hear guns. It’s not inside the house, it’s not at the house.

  MP: We’ll be unlocking the door soon after you hear it. Ready to roll?

  VW: Ready. Are we hauling ass?

  MP: Move fast, but not hauling.

  VW: Roger that.

  “You ready to move.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I ruffled his hair and I couldn’t help but feel a swell a pride in this little man. I had him sit with me on the bed and I decided it was a good time to start going over some schoolwork because he wasn’t going to be able to go back for a while. Again.

  And just as I was about to ask him what four plus four was, there was a terrible boom! from the back of the house. Dylan clapped his hands over his ears and looked absolutely terrified.

  Pulling him on to my lap, I whispered into his hair, “It’s okay. We’re fine. I should have warned you, Dylan. I’m sorry.” He nodded. “Keep ‘um covered, bud. There are probably going to be a few—”

  Boom!

  I was dying to know what exactly the hell was going on out there. It sounded like a cannon going off. There was another boom about two minutes later and a third five minutes after that.

  The sirens screamed into existence just before the fourth explosion and I heard the door unlock as the phone pinged again.

  MP: Once you have everything, head to the garage, but don’t go out there yet. Just stay in the laundry room.

  “Let’s go, Dylan.”

  I hoisted the go-bag on to my back, even though it wasn’t really meant to be a backpack. He ran out of the room and gathered the few puzzle books, the tablet and shoved them all in his backpack. I took the moment to shove his shoes on and tie them.

  Up the stairs, we carefully walked through the kitchen and past the windows in the den. We skittered down the hall to the laundry room, and sat across from the machines.

  We waited while the lights from the cop cars bounced around the house and there were angry words from the backyard. The door to the garage opened a moment later, and Farida walked in.

  “You need to go out there and get in the SUV, on the floor in the third row. Stay down, stay low. Miles is going to drive you to meet up with Bridget.”

  I stood and she quickly wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “Take care of her, Vaughn. She’s amazing.”

  “You take care of you too—she feels the same.”

  She scooted away from me, and into the kitchen while I ushered Dylan into the garage. The door to the SUV was open and we climbed in. I put the bag behind the seat and sat down on the bench to wait until Miles showed up.

  It took almost ten minutes for the door to open, and both Miles and his mother climbed in. I slipped down to the floor and pulled Dylan down on my lap.

  “It’s a short ride, Vaughn. So just hang on. Sorry about this. I was hoping we’d have more information,” Miles said.

  “What was that noise?” I asked.

  Barbara laughed. “Shotgun. We decided the neighbors would call the cops faster if I blew off some buckshot than if I was using a rifle.”

  This woman was an utter damn delight.

  “We didn’t have a chance to get you a proper shielded cell phone, so stick to the burners. Replace these as soon as you’re out of the Chicago area.” He hit the garage door button, and waited for it rise.

  “What happened?”

  “I saw them in the woods around the house,” Barbara said.

  “How…”

  “They tapped your parents’ phone line,” Miles answered. “You didn’t tell them where you were?”

  “No, just that we’d driven all day—shit, that was enough wasn’t it?”

  “Probably,” he said.

  The vehicle rolled out of the garage, and into the street.

  “Just remember not to tell them where you are or how long you’ve been awake or driving.”

  “I fucked up,” I said.

  “You aren’t used to the intelligence spy stuff,”
he answered with a laugh. “You’ll get used to it, some day. Meanwhile, we’ll be in touch with you about what else we find. We’ll get you all home as fast as we can.”

  We turned a corner and drove for just another two minutes in silence, and then he slowed.

  “Car is on the right. Slither on out, grab your bag and get going. Stay safe, Vaughn.”

  “Thank you, Miles. For everything.”

  “Welcome.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Go. The agent is antsy and wants to get some distance between you and us.”

  I nodded at Dylan and he stood and walked to the door. I popped up and grabbed the go-bag, and slipped out the door behind him.

  Barbara whispered as I shut the door, “Don’t look back.”

  Those were words for the ages.

  Q: Checking in.

  007: New phone, who dis?

  Q: Nice. Nice.

  Q: This situation is FUBAR

  007: ?

  Q: Been working with Windy HQ and the shit that’s going on…

  007: Windy HQ? You are enjoying this.

  Q: A little. Why?

  007: Go on.

  Q: We have a few more pieces of the pie here, and it’s not, repeat, NOT good.

  007: How not good?

  Q: You’re going to need all skills to get out of this one.

  007: Shit. Are you serious?

  Q: With the kid in tow. Because he’s totally a target now, too. And it’s not an interrogation. They just want them gone.

  007: Gone? The price was for alive two days ago.

  Q: You pissed them off by getting them gone. They upgraded V and D to headhunted. And big ones.

  007: Fuck.

  Q: It’s gunrunners, and a big-time drug dealer. The money that went into the W-T accounts was pure drug profit.

  007: You informed big V?

  Q: He’s been working with me all along.

  007: Where am I heading?

  Q: Country roads should take you home.

  007: OMG, that close?

  Q: Not quite.

  Q: Target arrival is PM5W+6Q

  007: Contact?

  Q: Ask for a Cut and Color with Curl.

  007: What.

  Q: KIT, 007

  007: No, wait. What?

  MP: We’re moving the HQ.

  VW: What? Why? OMG, I’m so sorry.

  MP: It’s a precaution. We’ve spotted eyes on the house. Temporary Situation.

  VW: Can you afford that.

  MP: Dude, I am The Money.

  VW: Nice, man. Kids are safe?

  TheMoney: Yes. B has turned out to be very very helpful, as well.

  VW: And Vesper?

  TheMoney: Who?

  VW: If you’re all doing James Bond nicknames, I’m giving her one.

  TheMoney: I think that Q has already dubbed her Moneypenny.

  VW: I like it, he’s on the ball.

  TheMoney: You know what that leaves you, right?

  VW: Who?

  TheMoney: Why, Felix of course.

  Felix: Well, shit.

  TheMoney: So, bad news is that you’re now find and eliminate. There’s a bounty on your head, and head alone.

  Felix: Excuse please?

  TheMoney: Yeah, sorry about that. The good news is that I was looking more into 007 record. She’s fucking amazing. She and Moneypenny were shockingly good at their jobs.

  TheMoney: I don’t have a shadow of doubt you’ll be fine.

  Felix: My son.

  TheMoney: …

  TheMoney: Also find and eliminate.

  Felix: HE’S 5!

  TheMoney: They didn’t get where they are by caring about that.

  Felix: How the hell do people survive this?

  TheMoney: By trusting people like 007.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bridget

  The whole situation was garbage.

  All I wanted to do was wrap myself around Vaughn in the bed for just a few hours. Just a few.

  Once Farida and Miles told us Vaughn and Dylan were shoot-on-sight, there was no way we could even both sleep at the same time, never mind in the same bed. One of us had to take the first watch, and someone had to take the second.

  I couldn’t even lay a finger on him. So my box of twelve condoms was just sitting there and rotting.

  The only part of this that gave me some comfort was that clearly, clearly, Vaughn was just a frustrated about it as I was.

  He was scared though. I could tell, and I understood. He’d lost his wife to these people and now they were threatening him, and more—his son.

  In the three days we’d been moving away from Chicago, we’d hit St. Louis. Feeling fairly good about our anonymity there, we stayed two nights, and it was it then Nolan had given me the location in West Virginia. I was not comfortable going back into easy driving distance of Pittsburgh so soon, but I also had to trust that he and the Petersons knew what they were doing.

  In the middle of our second morning in St. Louis, a courier showed up at the door of the hotel with a plain envelope, and held it out to me.

  “Ma’am. The cassowary is nothing but the steroidal cousin of Canada goose.”

  Well. That was a phrase I hadn’t heard in four years. I smiled and took the envelope, tipping him very generously. “I trust you weren’t here?”

  “No, ma’am, I wasn’t.” He walked away from the door, and into the stairwell at the end of the hall. I popped over to the window, and watched him disappear.

  “What was that?” Vaughn was staring at the envelope. “You mean you really use a phrase like The elephant flies at dawn?”

  “Sometimes, yes.” I laughed. “That phrase was one Farida and I used after she was nearly attacked by a cassowary.”

  He shook his head. “This really is some next level shit.” His eyebrows shot up and he looked over at Dylan, who had his headphones on and was using some educational software so he could keep up with his classes. “I really gotta watch my mouth.”

  I laughed, and sat at the table to open the envelope. It was pretty thick, and there were tons of documents inside.

  “You’re sure that guy won’t open his mouth?”

  “I gave him a bill and I’m sure Farida paid him well. He won’t talk. If I thought he would, he wouldn’t have made out the door.” I shrugged.

  Vaughn shuddered. “You know, that nonchalance is really unnerving.”

  I glanced up. “That’s the idea. I don’t want to unnerve you, but it’s meant to come off as cold nonchalance. I had years to perfect it.”

  He sighed and sat down next to me at the table. “What did she send?”

  “Balance sheets. Looks like she got all the stuff from Victor and the banks. And she hacked the overseas accounts to find where the money was going again.”

  He tapped on the top of the page. “This is all Miles’ doing. Looks like he’s a master hacker now too. He traced it right back out into another laundering account and back out to the gunrunners.”

  We spent a few minutes leafing through the documents, and there were more than few sighs from both of us.

  “Where do the guns go?” I mumbled, tapping on the delivery notes. “Where because that’s our next stop. We need to know exactly who the guns go to.”

  “Well, they go to the Sudan,” Vaughn said.

  “Right, there’s like forty factions fighting in that area.” I tapped my forehead. “What if we went the other way. What if we traced the money back out of the account into the main stream. Where does that come from?”

  “That’s all cash going in.”

  “And that means there’s a deposit and someone has to accept the deposit,” I said.

  “Banks don’t like that large a deposit in cash, generally,” he said. “They’d flag it as a potential illegal deal.”

  “Right.” I nodded, disappointed.

  “Unless…” He cocked he his head. “Unless they have someone in the bank who helps, or at least doesn’t hinder.”

  “
Which means we have to get to West Virginia because that’s probably where the bank is. It’s going to be a small local bank, and I’ll put money on this contact,” I tapped the face of the phone, “is going to tell us who it is.”

  “Damn,” he said. “And I was just beginning to like Dave’s Motor Inn and Lodge.”

  I chuckled. “Not even?”

  “Not even. Can we leave now?”

  “We need to wait until tonight. I don’t want to risk a midday flight again after the last one.”

  He sighed, and slid his hand to mine, just out of view of Dylan. I grabbed it and squeezed. I didn’t need him to say a thing to know what was going through his head. He wanted this to be over so Dylan was safe, and that we could get back to real life.

  A little pit formed in my stomach.

  What was my real life now?

  I looked at his hand in mine. I sure fucking hoped it had something to do with the two of us.

  It was bullshit. We had things to do and places to go. I shoved it to the back of my mind—if I needed time to think, I’d do that when Dylan could go back to school in the morning without a security detail.

  We had everything packed and agreed I would do the first sleep shift until two in the morning. Once I woke up, we were out the door and down to the silver Camry in a flash. Dylan didn’t even realize he was out of the bed and into the booster seat in the car.

  I was more than happy to leave St. Louis behind.

  We were halfway to Louisville when Vaughn spoke up from the passenger side of the car.

  “We’re being followed.” His voice was quiet and I could swear that he had been asleep.

  “Are we?” I asked.

  “Four cars back, black Silverado.”

  “How long?”

  He yawned. “Last twenty minutes or so. I noticed them when you changed lanes behind the truck. They sped up to keep you in sight.”

  “Mmm,” I said, noncommittally.

  “Why do they always pursue in trucks? Or SUVs? Has no one ever thought about a Beemer or Porsche?”

  Giggling I raised an eyebrow. “I love Porsches. I used to use them all the time. Must’ve lost twelve or thirteen of them over the years.”

  “What?” Vaughn turned in his seat and looked at me.