36: A Novel (32 page)

The inside of the lid had a large cargo net stretched across its entire surface, divided into multiple pockets.  Body armor and two, long windbreakers were tightly secured in place.  Pulling the netting open, I checked the jackets.  One of them was blue and had “FBI” prominently emblazoned in giant yellow letters on the back.  The other was black with no identifying marks.

Looking around to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I took one of the short rifles and slung it over my shoulders.  Positioning it on my back, it would be completely concealed by a jacket.  I quickly shrugged into the black one, slightly surprised that it fit reasonably well.  It had multiple, deep pockets sewn into the lining and the hem hung to mid thigh. 

I filled the interior pockets with the FBI jacket wadded into a ball and loaded rifle magazines.  I then added two pistols, one of them the one with the suppressor, two extra mags for each, and a pair of flash-bangs.  The only thing that wasn’t here that I could have wished for was some cash.  No matter, at least I was better armed.  Now, it was time to see if Julie could help.

37

Julie opened the door when I knocked, holding it in one hand as she stood in the entrance.  She put her other hand on her hip and glared at me.

“I need your help,” I said, starting to step forward and coming to an abrupt halt when she didn’t move to allow me to walk in to her home.

“Really?”  She squinted at me.  “You’ve got some balls; I’ll say that for you.  Do you know those assholes Tased me?  Put me in cuffs and took me to a dark, musty house and questioned me like I was some sort of criminal?”

“I’m really sorry about that,” I said.  “For what it’s worth, they Tased me too.  And drugged me.  They weren’t too happy about you being involved.  But there is something really bad that’s going to happen, and I need your help to try and stop it.”

“Here we go again,” she scoffed.  “Let me guess.  More terrorists.  What this time?  A shopping mall?  The airport?”

“Can we discuss this inside?”  I asked, looking around to see if there was anyone within earshot.

She stood there for nearly a minute, unmoving.  Looking into my eyes.  Finally, she heaved a big sigh and stepped back.  I walked into the apartment and she closed and locked the door behind me.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to face her.

“Don’t thank me,” she said.  “I haven’t done anything.  Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or just keep standing there looking at my tits?”

The wave of heat began at my collar and quickly spread up and across my face.  I must have turned a nice shade of red because after a moment she burst out laughing.

“You really are something else,” she said, pushing past me and taking a seat on the sofa.  “Sit your ass down and tell me so I can kick you out and get on with my life.”

I sat on the opposite end of the couch, turning slightly sideways to face her.  She was completely turned, her legs crossed with both feet under her ass.  How the hell do women sit like that?  I’d be in traction if I tried it.

“In slightly over…” I paused to check my watch.  “Twenty-two hours, the President and Speaker of the House are going to be assassinated.  I’m trying to get to Washington DC and stop it.”

“And I suppose you’re the only one who can?”

I nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“OK, buddy.  That’s enough.  Time for you to go,” she said, standing and heading for the door.

“Wait!  Please,” I said, resisting the impulse to get to my feet and stop her.  “I’m telling you the truth, just like I was before.  If I had any other option, I wouldn’t be here.”

She had made it to the door and paused to look at me.  Her hand was on the deadbolt lever, ready to unlock it.

“You know, just because I’m a blonde doesn’t mean I’m stupid.  Or gullible.  You’re working for the FBI.  The same guys that snatched me up and made sure I’d keep my mouth shut before they’d release me.  Get them to help!”

“The FBI is involved in the plot,” I said, trying to come across as level headed and sincere.  “Well, probably not the entire FBI.  But the part of it that I’m involved with tried to kill me an hour ago to stop me from intervening.”

It was quiet in the apartment, and I could here her breathing as she stood looking at me, processing what I’d just said.  Trying to decide if I was a loon or not. 

“How?”  She finally broke the silence.

“How, what?”

“How did they try to kill you?”  She said, an exasperated tone in her voice.

“I was at a safe house.  The agent assigned to me pulled a gun and tried to shoot me in the head.”

“How did you survive?”

“I’m better trained, I guess,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“You know, I appreciate modesty in a guy.  In fact, after some of the egomaniacal assholes I’ve gone out with, I find it kind of attractive.  But you’re not applying for a date.  If you want me to keep listening, you’d better start giving up all the details.  I already stuck my neck out once for you, and damn near got it chopped off!”

She turned the deadbolt, unlocking it, and tugged the door open.

“So.  Spit it out, or get out.  I don’t much care which one you do.”

I sighed, nodding my head.

“OK,” I said.  “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

She watched me closely for a bit, then pushed the door shut hard enough to rattle the window next to it.  Re-engaging the lock, she walked stiffly back to the sofa and resumed her seat.

“Yes, I work for the FBI, but I’m not an agent.  I was recruited for a special, secret project.  Our job is to detect impending attacks on America, like the school the terrorists were going after, and identify the perpetrators.  Once we know who, and where they are, I’m sent in to stop them before they can execute their plan.

“We recently developed intel that there is a plot by government officials to assassinate the President and the Speaker.  I was at a safe house, here in the LA area.  I thought I was getting ready to deliver a warning so the Secret Service could be alerted.  Turns out I was betrayed by my FBI handler.  The guy you talked to on the phone. 

“I was carrying a data file that contained the intel we had collected.  It was proof of the assassination plot.  Somehow, Agent Johnson intercepted the flash drive and substituted one that contained orders for the agent guarding the safe house to terminate me.  He tried.  We fought.  He’s dead.

“Now, I’m on my own.  The FBI wants me dead, or at least the part of the FBI that’s involved in my project.  All I can do is get to DC and try to stop the assassins.  But I’ve got no money and no ID.  No way to get there in time.”

I told her as much of the truth as I could.  At this point I didn’t give a shit about revealing the classified time travel machine, but I needed her to believe I was sane.  If I started talking about supercolliders and Black Holes and jumping around between the past and present, she’d bounce me out the door in a hot second.

“Why don’t you just call the Secret Service?”  She asked.

“They don’t know who I am, and there’s nothing I can prove to them,” I said, shaking my head.  “I already thought about that.  They must get hundreds, if not thousands, of tips and threats against the President every year.  I’d just be one more nut in the peanut gallery.”

She nodded and I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. 

“Let’s just say I believe you,” she began.  “I’m not saying I do, but if I did, what is it you need me to do?”

“The only way I can get to DC in time to intervene is if I fly,” I said, hope causing me to speak faster.  “But I can’t go commercial.  No money for a ticket and no ID to get through security.  There’s another way, though.  Private charter.  There’s no security checks and they could get me there as fast as the airlines.”

“You need money?”

“I do,” I nodded.  “If I’m successful, I’ll make sure you get paid back.  Every penny.  If I’m not, I’ll probably be dead.”

“And I’d be out of luck in getting paid back,” she smiled to let me know it was a joke.

“Pretty much,” I grinned.

“I must say, you’re original,” she said.  “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d told me I needed to sleep with you to save the world.”

Despite myself, I blushed again.  But, I smiled at her too.

“If you think that will help…” I grinned, taking a chance.

Her cracking a small joke was a good sign.  Some part of my story had gotten through to her.  Instead of kicking me out she was making light of the situation.  But I had to be careful.  That could change in a heartbeat if I said or did something wrong.

“Don’t hold your breath,” she grinned back at me, before standing and starting to pace.

“Can you prove any of what you’ve told me?”  She asked.

I started to shake my head, then remembered the flash drive in my pocket.  Reaching in, I brought it out and held it up for her to see.

“You have a laptop?”

She just looked at me for a long beat, probably surprised that I was actually producing something to back up my fantastic story.  If she only knew how fantastic it really was.

Stepping closer, she took the drive from me and headed down the hall towards the bedroom.  I couldn’t help but admire the way she looked in the shorts as she walked away from me.

“Quit looking at my ass,” she said over her shoulder.

38

“Why can’t you take this to the Secret Service?”  Julie asked after watching the video of Johnson ordering my murder.

“He doesn’t mention anything about the President.  And what do you think they’re going to do with it?  Contact the FBI.  I have no idea who I can trust.  If they speak to the wrong person, I’m dead and so is any chance to stop the assassins.”

“Who’s this Director he mentions?”  Julie asked.

“The director of the project,” I said.  “And I don’t have any way to contact him.  I’ve only ever worked directly through Agent Johnson.”

“There has to be a way to get someone to believe you,” she said, unplugging the flash drive from her computer and handing it to me.

“I wish there was,” I said.  “And I’d be willing to try if I thought they’d believe me.  Or knew I wasn’t walking into the hands of one of the conspirators.  I can’t take the chance.”

She was quiet for a bit, chewing on her lower lip in thought.  Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but watch.  Fascinated.  Mind starting to drift to more pleasurable things I could do with her besides talking about assassination plots.  Then she pulled out a cigarette and lit up, killing the fantasy that was taking shape in my head.

“Look,” I said, forcing myself to focus on the issue at hand.  “I’m sorry to be here involving you in this.  Time is running out.  If you’re not going to help, I’ve got to figure something else out before it’s too late.”

“I am trying to help,” she said, eyes flashing.  “You men.  You always think the solution is to charge in headfirst.  Guns blazing.  Just like my husband.  Guess what his favorite expression was.”

“No idea.” 

I shrugged, growing more impatient by the moment.

“Kill them all and let God sort them out,” she said.

“Sometimes, when every option has been explored, that is the only solution,” I said gently, making up my mind.  “OK, then.  I’m going to be on my way.  I’ll figure something else out.  I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble.”

I stood and headed for the door.  Had no idea what I was going to do.  Didn’t even have a starting point.  All I did know was that I was still alive and kicking, and as long as that was the case there was a chance.  Reaching the door, I unlocked it and started to turn the knob.

“Wait,” Julie said.

I turned as she stubbed the cigarette out, stood and walked over, coming to a stop in front of me.  She stared into my eyes and I could tell she was trying to come to grips with a decision. 

“I’ll help you,” she finally said.  “But if you’ve lied to me, or are using me, so help me God I will cut your balls off and make you eat them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I grinned, fairly certain she was capable of carrying out the threat.

“What do we do?”  She asked.

“You have the money?  This is going to be expensive.”

“I’ve got all the money from the Survivor Benefits the Army pays me for my husband’s death.  I was saving up to buy a house.  How much do you think we’ll need?”

“No idea,” I said, releasing the knob and locking the door again.  “But a last minute charter all the way across the country isn’t going to be cheap.  If I had to guess, at least ten or fifteen thousand.”

She nodded and moved back to the table, sitting down in front of her laptop.  I watched her click a few times, type something in and read the results, then click some more.  I walked over and stood behind her.  She was looking at a website for a private charter company.

“Here we go,” she said.  “They operate out of John Wayne Airport in Orange County.”

“Is that close?”  I asked, not very familiar with the area.

“Not really, but close enough,” she said, filling out a booking form. 

“Hold on,” I said, watching what she was doing.  “Two passengers?  You’re not coming with me!”

“Then you’re not going,” she said, clicking the submit button.  “My money.  That means I get to go if I want to.  Besides, you might need me again.  Just like the other night.”

A large wheel was spinning on the screen as her request was worked on by the charter company’s website.  I thought about arguing with her intention to come along, but realized I didn’t have much of a leg to stand on.  If she wanted to join me, I couldn’t stop her.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed when the screen displayed the results.  “$21,000!  Seriously?”

She quickly cleared the results and redid the booking form.  The wheel spun again, then popped up with the same amount.

“Is there an inflight meal with that?”  I asked.

It took a moment to sink in, then she began laughing.

“There’d better be Wolfgang Puck in the galley, a massage from George Clooney and an all expense paid shopping trip to Tiffany’s,” she chuckled.  “But at least it will get us there in time.  Departs John Wayne at nine PM.  Lands at Reagan International at five-thirty in the morning, DC time.”