No Inner Limit
Page 41
Tracy was handed off to two NSA agents at the Thurgood Marshall, Baltimore airport. They did not cuff her, but voiced the same warnings as had the Marshall. She was in no shape to argue. She ached from head to toe.
The drive out of Baltimore was long, and silent. She didn’t ask questions, nor did the two burly men. Eventually the driver stopped at an unlikely place. She thought it would be a gigantic government building that they would escort her to. No, it was a rather mundane residence, what she knew the Americans called a row house.
They led her inside but said nothing. They sat her on a couch in the cramped, narrow living space, while they sat in chairs across from her. Virtually nothing was said. Finally, she asked, “What is going to happen to me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Try to make yourself comfortable.”
Ten minutes later two more men appeared. The first two men left.
“I’m National Security agent Spielman, and this is agent McMurtry. We need to ask you some questions, then you can use the bedroom and bath. You will not be going anywhere until the morning. You are Tracy Dobbelaere. Am I correct?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You accompanied a family from India to the United States. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“The Mehra family; Amit, Shreya, and Namanda. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know their whereabouts now?”
“No. The last I knew Namanda was in a small town in Kentucky and her parents were in Florida?”
“Did you know that parties in the Indian government were searching for you here in the States? Not only you, but the Mehras as well?”
“Not really. That was speculated, but I didn’t know it to be fact.”
“So you wouldn’t have known that you and the two adult Mehras were to be eliminated, as in killed?”
“They wouldn’t do that. I don’t believe it.”
“And you don’t know that your boyfriend, Rahul Krishnan, was murdered in cold blood because of you?”
Tracy screamed. “NO. This is all a bad dream. That did not happen. I don’t believe you. How could you know that?”
“We have big ears everywhere. You are safe now, but the Mehras are not. If found, the father and mother will be killed and the child taken back to India. We have been searching for all of you and you can be thankful we found you first. The Mehras may not be so fortunate.”
“Oh, Rahul. I am so sorry. He was not my boyfriend, but he was a friend. Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”
“I am afraid not, ma’am.”
To the agents, the woman looked frazzled, worn out, and displayed a genuine look of horror when told of Rahul’s death. Bent over, with her head in her hands, she asked, “What will happen to me?”
“You will fly to New York tomorrow. From there you will fly to London, and then on to Brussels. Your parents will be waiting for you at the Brussels airport. You will be accompanied to New York. Once on the oceanic flight, you will be on your own. If you want to continue running in London, that’s your business. I suggest you get your life back in order and go back home to mom and dad. Agent McMurtry will be staying out here on the couch, and your room will be locked from the outside. You are still not completely out of harm’s way, so do yourself a favor and don’t try to find a way out. Now go to bed and get some rest. You look like you need it.”
“I am not under arrest?”
“No. Nothing we could hold you on. This is America, not India. We treat people fairly. Good night, and good luck.” Spielman rose and was soon out the door. McMurtry also rose and locked the door Spielman had exited, then asked Tracy to enter the bedroom. He locked the bedroom door behind her. It wasn’t long before he heard her break down sobbing.
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Joshua’s cell phone rang at 6:45 am Tuesday morning. It was Jackie Bingham calling.
“Good morning, Joshua. Is this too early for you to speak with me?”
“Good morning to you, Jackie. No, I am already fixing up new batches without the peyote.”
“Where are you located exactly? I received authorization to get out in the field, so I want to visit two places up your way, and then stop by and meet you. Will you be there all day?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Good. I will be driving. I am going to stop in Cleveland, Tennessee and check on the avian flu situation there. Then later I want to visit the Somerset, Kentucky area. Is that close to you?”
“Right up the road less than fifteen miles away.”
“Super. I will leave here before too long. I have given the printouts of your ingredients to a technician who briefly took a look at it this morning. So far, so good. She understands that stuff better than I do.”
“Are you going to want to take some NIL back with you to Atlanta?”
“Maybe. I will know more about that when I’m en route. I’d say keep on making as much as you can. I have the feeling I’ll be taking a load back with me. I’ll call you when I’m close by to get a fix on how to find you. I watched the video you sent. Impressive, but it wasn’t enough to convince me, then something did. I was able to speak with Irene Ralston last night. She called me back after her shift was over at midnight. I’ll tell you that she had nothing but superlatives to say about you and the NIL. Really, her optimism and personal experience is what set the wheels in motion for my coming there. Okay, I’ve got to get going. It’s going to be a long day.”
Joshua hung up with Jackie, then knocked on the cottage door. He needed to implement an assembly line, and those two already knew the routine. He needed more hands. He called Autry and explained the situation, asking if he could borrow Annemarie and anyone else Autry could think of that wouldn’t blab the location of the Mehra women. Autry said he’d get to work on it.
By 10:00 am there were eight assembly line workers. Janie and Jeff Cook volunteered, Autry’s secretary Donna sent her two teenagers, and Annemarie brought a neighbor to help her. Joshua busied himself by filling the jars with the mineral water, capping them, and putting them in the shaker. Each worker, which included Namanda and Shreya, handled three drawers of materials before passing a jar to the next in line. Between the hours of 10:00 and 11:00, Joshua had filled nine cases full of NIL. Fifty-four jars in an hour, not bad.
At 11:00, Autry brought in three large pizzas from Papa Joes, along with his off duty deputy, Marcus Lapiere. Marcus stepped in to relieve those that took a break for pizza.
By noon, Joshua had moved twenty cases to the granite walkway that separated the gardens. One hundred and twenty jars ready to go, plus twelve more that contained no peyote that Joshua brought up from the basement.
There came a knock on the door at 12:30. It was the elderly pastor of the Baptist church, with his wife, and five teenagers from the youth group. “We heard what you are doing up here. Could you use some extra hands?” Pastor McMillan asked.
By 1:00 pm, the community pitch-in had become a well-oiled machine, cranking out a completed NIL jar at the rate of one per forty-five seconds, which computed to thirteen cases in an hour’s time. Two hundred and ten NILs ready to go at one o’clock.
It was ten minutes after 1:00 when Jackie Bingham called. “Joshua, I’m in Whitley City. How do I get to your place?”