Project Northwest (16 page)

The story was modified and improved to the
point of legend.

Different versions had surfaced over the
years. James’s favorite was the one where he apparently attacked
the enraged hulk and, with superhuman strength, body slammed the
250 pound Bamaian onto the concrete floor, simply because that’s
what best friends do. It was far from the truth. James was scared
to death, but jumped in to help a buddy and, luckily, everything
worked out.

Mark, last summer, while he and James were
fishing on the Puget Sound for rockfish, finally admitted there was
a chance, albeit small, that James had saved his life that
night.

They drank and remembered more and more of
that night as the day went on and soon the night had been pieced
together almost as it had happened. Mark reflected on how much
force it would take to cave in the tip of an aluminum bat. James
suggested Mark think of, instead, how much force it takes to dent
concrete and they both agreed it would’ve left more than a mark on
Mark.

As James drifted further into sleep, he
reminded himself to follow through with his plan to somehow get the
aluminum bat and present it to Mark if he ever got married.

It was 2:43 A.M. when James finally fell
asleep. He was awakened by his cell phone vibrating across the
nightstand. The clock showed 6:10 AM.

He knew who it was and actually thought of
not answering it. Play nicely, he reminded himself and quietly
pressed answer and said, “Hello.”

“Mr. Spain, we hear you and Ms. Davies will
be ‘playing house’, as they say. Your lovely Bridget, who is now
hiding under the pillow, will wake in an hour or so, eager to start
nesting. Do you know what that means?”

“I think so,” James said.

“I can tell by your answer, you don’t. Let me
provide you with a short education, Mr. Spain. At first, it will be
small boxes, items she finds important, then it will be an all-out
transfer of assets, followed by a hostile takeover. She’s moving
in, James, and it will start today and it will move at a pace that
will drive you nuts. The move is a problem for us.”

“How’s that?” James asked, now sitting on the
edge of the bed.

“Women do not move like guys do, she will
check everything, the entire process will be decision laden and
ultimately she would find our bugs, our cameras, and we cannot
allow that. You will become a minion as she enacts her evil plan to
take over your life. Oh, come on, Mr. Spain, that was funny. At any
rate, we can’t remove the devices from her apartment during the
move. There would be a twelve to twenty–four hour period without
surveillance and we both know that will not happen.”

James, in the morning fog, his brain not
fully awake, almost let it slip, ‘She knows about the bugs.’ He
managed to catch himself and only said, “Okay.”

“At seven A.M., I will call you. You will put
yourself in position so she can hear parts of the conversation.
When she wakes to take you to work, tell her you, as a gift, have
hired movers for her. Fill in with the necessary blah, blahs to
make it sappy enough so she will not refuse the gift. I procured a
van last night and we will pack and move the items for her. As the
van is en route, we will clean out our devices and she will never
know. All she will need to do is point and state if the item is
going to your condo or to the storage unit that’s part of the
moving package. Are you awake, James?”

“Yes, I’m here. I get it.”

“Now there is a good chance she will refuse,
insisting on doing it herself.”

“Don’t think so,” said James. “You don’t know
her. She’ll accept and be thankful for it.”

“If you say so. Very well, then, I will be
calling you shortly to confirm you’ve hired EZ Movers and that
we’re starting whenever she’s ready. We will be at the apartment at
eight thirty with packing material, boxes, the works.”

“Okay.” Mr. Wright hung up and James fell
back into the pillow thinking well at least we’re getting a free
move out of this, and he quickly fell asleep.

The phone rang exactly at 7 A.M. James
answered and put on a show for Bridget and Wright’s benefit.

For the first time since last Christmas, she
was out of bed, eager to get started. She admitted that she had
dreamt of where her items would go and was so thankful James had
hired movers.

At the breakfast bar, she drew a rough map of
the condo, found the measuring tape in the kitchen junk drawer, and
was performing her own version of Lewis and Clark on James’s—what
she was now calling ‘their’—condo. James watched and said, “Sure,”
to any question she had, while ineptly flipping through the pages
of the
Seattle Times
. He couldn’t remember the last time he
had read an actual paper newspaper, even though it was delivered
each morning.

Mr. Wright was right. The energy level of
Bridget was amazing and a bit overwhelming for so early in the
morning. He was wrong, too. She accepted the gift without
hesitation, and she would put those guys to work. He didn’t feel
sorry for them one bit.

Chapter
Thirteen

~ Two and Three Little Words
~

Mark was on I–5 at
5:30 A.M., heading north from Sacramento to Seattle. It was a trip
he’d made a couple of times and was always awestruck by Mt. Shasta,
just outside Redding. He was nearing it just as the sun was coming
over the horizon and again reminded himself that one day he was
going to take up photography and capture all the sights along the
I–5. The rest of the trip, which normally took about twelve hours,
was equally awe-inspiring. It was a beautiful stretch of
road.

It was important he get to the Embassy Suites
near the Seattle–Tacoma airport right around 5 P.M. Pressed for
time, he left the vision of Mt. Shasta behind and was doing a
decent seventy miles an hour.

During the drive, Mark’s thoughts drifted to
Aaron. He had no doubt Aaron would crack the code that they
uploaded to the Seattle Times personals section the night before,
just barely making the print deadline.

If Aaron was able to crack it, he would have
to live up to his promise to take him to an upcoming technology
convention in Silicon Valley. Aaron had said it was in the southern
part of San Francisco Bay and had forced Mark to seal the deal with
a pinky swear. Mark knew the importance of it. Aaron navigated the
internet for him and for seven bucks Mark was sending James a
secret message that was guaranteed to appear in print on
Thursday.

SAM M.D.

Too Stann. Aircrew asa Abbey 2121322

saS abasE acerola.

Are abeam bathtub saS donut abalone for
Miram

2121321 121 32488 redraft tag mangt.

Next 2 2 4

Aaron instantly recognized that M.D. was
‘Mark DeSantis’ and seemed to relish the thought of cracking the
rest of the code. At 8 A.M. Aaron called and said he had it.

“It says you’re going to Seattle and that
you’re going to an Embassy.”

“You’re close,” responded Mark, “very close.
Want a hint?”

“No, I’ll get it.”

“I know you will.”

* * * *

James located the personals section of the
newspaper while Bridget was driving him to the bank. Concrete
Blonde was playing softly in the car.

“Still listening to CB?” James asked.

“Yeah, the CD is stuck. Wanted to listen to a
little Alanis yesterday on my way to the apartment, but the CD will
not eject.”

James pressed the eject button, he was able
to push it all the way in with no resistance, the mechanism had
mysteriously broken or had been disconnected. Why Mr. Wright would
mess with the CD player totally blew right past him.

“Okay, depending on the move today, I’ll take
a look at it after work.”

“I know, I’m moving in with you. Isn’t it
sublime?” Her smile was huge, beaming, and lit up the car.

‘Sublime’ was her favorite word, she found
ways to sneak it into many conversations, sometimes even when the
event wasn’t sublime. He was glad to hear her say it. It made
things seem normal.

James’s favorite word, if he had to choose,
was ‘vile’. He usually saved that adjective for vegetables and he
was fond of telling his mother that he didn’t like the vile weeds
she was forcing him to eat. He silently laughed at the memory.

“What are you looking for?” asked Bridget,
noticing he was in the classifieds section of the
Seattle
Times
. She’d never seen him a read a newspaper before and knew
something was up.

“Oh, just parts for the Mustang.”

“You know we’re going to have to talk about
that, right?” she declared. It was clear to her and him that they
were going to have a difficult talk about the Mustang. She quickly
went back to her own mental thoughts of what she was going to have
the movers focus on first.

James didn’t respond. He’d be fine if they
never had the talk.

“Do we have time for me to stop for a
coffee?”

“Sure,” James responded. He secretly tried to
find the ad and then he found it. It proved difficult to decipher.
He kept repeating to himself,
three, five, and seven. What are
the third, fifth and seventh letters?

SAM M.D.

Too Stann. Aircrew asa Abbey 2121322

saS abasE acerola.

Are abeam bathtub saS donut abalone for
Miram

2121321 122 32482 redraft tag mangt.

Next 2 2 4

After considerable time, more time than he
had anticipated, he had a series of letters and numbers written in
very small print on the palm of his hand: onway2SEAEmbSTErm122tgt.
He made a conscious choice not to write on the newspaper itself and
he kept his palm as close to his body as possible, trying not to
raise any suspicion. In a short time, he was recalling it from
memory.

At first, it didn’t mean a damn thing, just a
series of jumbled up letters and numbers. Then it became clearer as
he thought about it. The first part had to be ‘on way 2 SEA’
meaning Mark was on his way to Seattle. Suddenly, the rest fell
into place,
‘Emb STE rm 122 tgt’
must mean, Embassy Suite
room 122 target. He put it all together and almost cheered. Mark
was on his way to Seattle and he was going to Embassy Suites to get
information about room 122.
That–a–boy Mark, get ‘em, bud, he
thought to himself.

He found one ad. The gentleman was selling a
grille and other parts for ‘66 through ‘70 mustangs. It was a long
shot, but James wanted to complete the ruse. He pulled out his cell
phone and dialed the number.

An older gentleman answered. He and James
discussed the items he was looking for, primarily a grille, a
driver’s side quarter panel, and door. The advertiser had the
quarter panel, but not the grille for his model, wasn’t sure about
the door, but he had a lot of parts and wanted James to stop by on
Saturday.

“Baby, do you think you’ll be moved in by
Saturday?” he asked when she returned to the car with two coffees
in hand.

“If the movers work hard enough, I’ll be
moved in today,” she said, unable to hide her excitement.

“Yes, sir, Saturday will be fine. Lynnwood,
yes I know the city. Go ahead.” James wrote the address down in his
palm, purposely writing over the small print from earlier. “Great,
we will see you around noon, would that be okay? ... Perfect, will
see you then.”

Bridget only heard one side of the
conversation, but surmised they were taking a road trip on
Saturday. She loved road trips. She would get to map it out. “We’re
going on a road trip?”

“Yes, near Paine Field, north of
Lynnwood.”

“Ohhh, you know what we’ll pass before
getting there, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Only my most favorite place in the world,
Green Lake.” She smiled and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.
This woman was going to be the death of him and it would be a fine
death indeed. Though she didn’t say it out loud, she was already
making plans to marry James Kilner Spain at that very lake.

“Remember the first time we went there? I was
in your lap and my change was spilling out of my skirt pocket?”

“Yes.” He chuckled as he thought of the rest
of the story.

“You whispered, ‘your money is falling out’
and I said, ‘It’s okay, I’d pay you for it, consider it a tip.’
Remember?” She pulled to the side of University and parked.

James smiled. He remembered their fifth date
and it was awesome. “I remember every moment of it.”

“Oh, don’t forget I start college classes on
Monday. So, you see, this can be like a little mini–vacation before
I’m back in the books.”

He kissed her, said he loved her, and paused,
wondering how perfect their lives would be if he had not been
dragged into Project Northwest.

He exited the car and was on his way across
the street to the bank. She waited until he crossed and blew him a
kiss. It was 8:30 and
boxes don’t pack themselves,
she
thought.
Well, unless your man is considerate enough to get
movers to do it for you.

EZ Movers were on the ball. She arrived at
her apartment to find the EZ moving truck parked out front and four
guys waiting at her door. They had already assembled boxes and had
them lined down the hallway. Each man was holding what she wanted
to see most, bubble wrap.

“Good morning, guys,” she said as she
inserted her key and opened the door to the apartment. “We’re going
to start in the bedroom and bathroom first. The apartment is small,
so I don’t think this will take too long, but I’m sure you’ve heard
that before. I’m in a great mood, so let’s keep it that way,
okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Davies,” the oldest of the four
movers chimed in.

“Are you my point man?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, grab some boxes, some tape, and
let’s empty the chest of drawers. If you have to wonder if it
should be bubble-wrapped, then it should be bubble-wrapped. Before
we get to it, the large pieces of furniture, except that rocking
chair and that book shelf, will be placed in the storage unit.”