Bug Out! Part 11: Motorhomes on the Dark Road (20 page)

“Having lots of sex, according to the coroner,” Ted said. “We’re waiting on DNA from that too.”

“I don’t see any reason not to go to Columbus in all of this,” Malcolm said.

“Me neither,” Ted said. “By the way, still nothing from Agent Keith, and nobody knows who the other man was.”

“Other man?” Malcolm asked.

“They guy who helped Agent Keith take Scott and Howard away,” Ted said.

“He might have bought it,” Malcolm said.

“Maybe,” Ted said. “Either way, I’ll bet he’s at the house right now. If he’s alive, he’s probably helping Agent Keith set a trap for you as we speak.”

“Could be.”

“Why would an FBI agent be setting a trap for you?” Dobie asked.

“This guy’s been after Malcolm since the Red Dagger incident,” Ted said. “We’re pretty sure he was involved in a bureau scandal about six years ago, too.”

“Margo,” Malcolm said.

“Yeah, Margo Valdez,” Ted said.

“I remember her,” Gabe said. “Scary gal.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “That’s for sure.”

***

Frank and Jane walked into the clubhouse, looking sleepy. Frank went right to the PC and logged on.

“You want coffee, honey?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’ll get up in a minute. Just wanted to get the facial recognition program working on the first set of faces.”

“I’ll get it,” she said, walking into the kitchen. Malcolm and Ted were still in there, chatting with the others.

“Good morning, Jane,” Malcolm said. “This is Ted Crowley. Ted, this is Jane.”

“So nice to meet you,” Jane said. “I’ve read a lot about you.”

“Uh oh,” Ted said, smiling.

“Don’t worry, all good,” she said as she got two cups of coffee.

“Frank out there?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, he’s getting ready to run the facial recognition program.”

“On who?” Ted asked.

“Oh, you guys probably don’t know about this yet, unless you talked to George or the general late last night.”

“Let’s go out there,” Malcolm said to Ted. “I need to introduce you to our resident genius anyway.”

“Okay,” Ted said. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Hell, I’m going out there too,” Gabe said. “Sounds like we missed something.”

“Yeah,” Dobie said, following them out, Jake tagging along behind.

“Frank, this is Ted Crowley,” Malcolm said as they walked up. “Ted, that’s Frank.”

“Heard a lot about you,” Ted said, shaking Frank’s hand. “Very impressive set of apps you put out.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Malcolm asked.

“You didn’t see the picture the general gave us last night, did you?” Frank asked.

“Nope, not yet,” Malcolm said.

“Well, it
was
late,” Frank said. He pulled it up. “Take a look.”

Malcolm and Ted got close to the screen and studied it.

“WTO, eh,” Malcolm said. “I don’t get it.”

“See that guy?” Frank said, pointing to the face in the last row.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“That’s Daan Mertins.” Frank said.

“Whoa,” Gabe said.

“He’s the mastermind behind the enemy chips,” Malcolm said. “Shit, he’s involved with the WTO?”

“So it would appear,” Frank said. “General Hogan said there’s going to be a meeting somewhere in the USA, so we’re trying to find out where.”

“I’ll bet George won’t be going with us,” Malcolm said.

“That’s what it sounded like last night,” Jane said. “George and the general are cooking something up.”

“What’s the next move?” Dobie asked.

“We don’t know who all of these folks are,” Frank said. “So we’re going to run the FBI’s facial recognition program on them. When we get names, I’ll start hacking.”

“How did you get access to that FBI program?” Ted asked. “I don’t even have access to that directly. I have to put in a request.”

“Don’t ask,” Frank said.

George and Heidi walked into the clubhouse, seeing the crowd gathered around Frank and his PC. Malcolm saw George, and nodded toward the far side of the room. They met over there, as Heidi joined the crowd, watching Frank run the facial recognition program.

“Looks like you heard about the picture,” George said.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “Ted also gave me the lowdown on the incident in Columbus yesterday. When it rains, it pours. You won’t be going with us, will you?”

“Probably not,” George said. “Daan Mertins is more important than Scott and Howard, I’m afraid.”

“I agree, George. I’ll probably go to Columbus with Ted. You okay with that?”

“Not up to me, my friend,” George said. “What did Ted find out?”

“That incident last night was a total setup by our old buddy Agent Keith,” Malcolm said. “Looks to me like the young woman Scott and Howard had with them was turned. A convert. We’ll know for sure before too long.”

“Agent Keith is trying to set a trap for you,” George said. “Maybe you ought to back off.”

“Agent Keith is dead,” Malcolm said. “I can feel it. He wouldn’t have burned his bridges so fast by hiding out. He would have contacted the bureau by now.”

“Why do you say that?” George asked.

“He tried to stage that mess on the running path,” Malcolm said. “Thought it was going to keep him from being in trouble with the bureau. He wouldn’t have disappeared like this after going to all that trouble.”

“What does Ted think?”

“That Agent Keith is lying in wait for us,” Malcolm said. “I’d agree with him if Agent Keith wasn’t missing. I love Ted. He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t think several steps ahead.”

George chuckled. “And you do, I suppose.”

“Well, not to be conceited, but yeah,” Malcolm said. “I can tell you what we’ll find in Columbus. We’ll find the house abandoned, and Scott and Howard gone. I think there’s a good chance we’ll find Agent Keith there, dead, with whoever was helping him.”

“Hope you’re wrong, but I think you have a good point about Agent Keith’s disappearance. Sure you should be going there with just the two of you?”

“I don’t want to drag any of these good people into this,” Malcolm said.

“Well, let’s wait before we decide what to do, at least for a little while. When does Ted expect that DNA data?”

“He didn’t say,” Malcolm said. “But if it’s a rush job through the bureau, could be as quick as 72 hours.”

“Too long to wait on for the trip,” George said. “Shit.”

“We’ll probably find out on the way,” Malcolm said. “It’ll take a couple days to get there, at least.”

“Assuming you drive,” George said. “You could drive somewhere and hop a flight. Topeka or Omaha or Lincoln.”

“No we can’t,” Malcolm said. “Guns.”

“Oh, crap, you’re right,” George said, chuckling. “Look, here comes the general. Looks like he’s gonna check on Frank’s progress.”

The two of them walked back over to the group.

***

“How much longer?” Kerry asked.

Scott had been driving the station wagon all night. He was exhausted. At least I-70 was a good road. He was trying to make Indianapolis; the storage unit was in a suburb, and he knew of a few flea-bag hotels in the bad part of town with underground parking.
Did any eyewitnesses make the station wagon?
That was the real question.

“It won’t be much longer, Kerry,” he said. “We have to stop by the storage yard. We’re almost there.”

“Okay,” he said, climbing up into the back seat from the rear.

“You sleep much?” Scott asked.

“A little,” he said. “It’s bumpy, and the film cans scare me.”

“Why would those scare you?” Scott asked. “They can’t hurt you.”

“I know what’s on them. They’re alive,” he said.

The off-ramp was coming up. Scott took it, eyes darting around in the busy intersection. The storage yard was down an industrial park road about two hundred yards. He pulled up in front of the tall gate and fished his wallet out of his back pocket, looking for the code. He found it and input the code into the key pad. Nothing.

“Dammit,” Scott said. He drove over to the parking lot in front of the office. “Stay here, Kerry.”

“Okay, Scotty.”

He opened the glass door and walked in. There was a man in his mid-twenties behind the counter.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, smiling.

“My code didn’t work on the gate,” Scott said.

“Sorry about that,” the man said, eyeing him. “How long since you’ve been here?”

“Three or four years,” Scott said. “But I’m paid up. Should be no problem.”

“Let’s see your card,” the man said. Scott handed it over, and the man input the code numbers on the front of it. “Aw, yes, here you are. You’re right, paid up for the rest of this year. I’ll give you the new code.” He wrote four numbers on a pad of paper, and tore it off, handing it to Scott. “You still have your key?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, and sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Do you guys change the codes often?” Scott asked, as he was on his way out the door.

“No, we normally would never do it,” the man said. “This place changed hands a couple years ago, and one of the new people messed up. It was a real pain. We mailed out a notice; you probably missed it.”

“What address do you have on file?” Scott asked, leaning his back against the door.

The man looked at the computer screen again. “Oh, my. Northern New Jersey.”

“That explains it,” Scott said.

“You weren’t there when the bomb went off, obviously.”

“No, but my wife was,” Scott said, forcing himself to look sad.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the man said.

“I miss her every day,” Scott said as he went out the door, his sad expression turning into an evil grin as he walked back to the station wagon.

“Everything okay?” Kerry asked.

“Yeah, they just changed the gate code since the last time I was here.” Scott drove back to the gate, input the code, and then watched the gate slide open. He drove in and around the back side of the three story building, through the rows of boats and RVs parked in the yard. One caught his eye. A mid-1990s Class C with a
for sale
sign on it. He drove next to it and parked.

“Is that yours?” Kerry asked, his eyes beaming.

“No, but it’s for sale,” Scott said. “Maybe we can make a deal.” Scott jotted the phone number down on the note app of his phone, and then took a few pictures. It was an old Fleetwood Tioga, 23 feet long. It wasn’t as big or as nice as Howard’s rig, but it would do. The asking price was $11,000, but Scott figured he could get it for less than that, especially if he paid cash. He got back into the station wagon and drove to a parking place near his unit. It was on the second floor.

“It’s in there?” Kerry said, looking around cautiously.

“Yeah, second floor. Don’t worry, it’s safe here. Let’s go.”

They got out of the car and went in through the double doors, taking the stairs to the left.

“There’s our unit,” Scott said. “Number 212.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the padlock, then slid the metal door upwards and hit the light.

“Wow, that’s a lot of stuff,” Kerry said, smiling.

“Yeah,” he said. There were many plastic crates piled high, along with a gun safe and two other safes, two bicycles, two dollies, and some dirty furniture. He went to the smaller safe and opened it. It was full of cash. Hidden from his wife.
No need to worry about that anymore.
He chuckled to himself.

“Wow, that’s a lot of money,” Kerry said.

“Kerry, you can’t tell anybody about this, okay?”

“Sure, Scotty. You can trust me.”

“Good,” Scott said. He opened the smaller safe. There was a plastic bin in the top with several fake IDs in it, each with his picture, rubber banded to credit cards. He picked one out and slid the cards into his wallet. Kirby Smith was the name. He chuckled to himself.
Sounds like a real dork.

“Let’s go get those film cans,” Scott said. Kerry nodded yes as Scott locked the safes back up. They rushed down to the car with a dolly, taking it to the back of the station wagon.

“Help me get the crate on the dolly, and I can take it from there,” Scott said.

“What about the stairs?” Kerry asked.

“There’s an elevator down the hall,” Scott said. They wrestled the crate onto the dolly and Scott closed the back of the wagon. “Let’s go.”

They got back up to the unit in a few minutes. Scott put the film cans in the back corner, next to the gun safe, and then took his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number from the
for sale
sign.

“Hello?” a female voice answered.

“Hi, there. I saw the for sale sign on your motor home. I’m interested.”

“Oh, great,” she said. “Are you at the storage lot now?”

“Yeah,” he said. “How soon could you be here?”

“Fifteen minutes okay?” she asked.

“That would be perfect,” Scott said. “You on a cellphone?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good, then you have my number,” Scott said, smiling over at Kerry. “Just give me a buzz when you get here and I’ll be down.”

“Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

Scott put his phone away and opened the money safe again. He counted out nine thousand dollars in large bills, put them together in his pocket, and then grabbed several more large bills and several twenties, stuffing them into his wallet.

Kerry watched with great interest. “She’s coming over?” he asked.

“Yes, she’ll be here in about fifteen minutes,” Scott said.

“She isn’t a
dumb bitch
, is she?” Kerry asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Scott said. “But just in case…”

He opened the gun safe and pulled a small pistol out, slipping it into his belt behind his back.

“I thought you had a gun in the car, Scotty?”

“I do, but this one’s smaller,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut when she’s here, okay?”

“Okay, Scotty. Do I get the bunk in front again? I like it up there.”

“Why sure,” Scott said, grinning as he shut the safes.

“You sure you don’t want me
to drive the rental?” Ted asked, watching Malcolm load up the Jeep Unlimited.

“If we find out that Scott is out on a back road someplace, we’ll be glad we have this,” Malcolm said.