Project Northwest (6 page)

Bridget immediately looked concerned, but
didn’t notice the car wasn’t handling differently.

“Really?”

“Yes, I think it’s the front right tire, pull
over here.”

James reached into her purse, found Cindy’s
cell phone, and grabbed the flashlight. He motioned ‘shush’ to
Bridget as he exited the car, wearing only the bed sheet. She was
perplexed, but popped the trunk when James tapped on it.

He dug out the spare and rolled it to the
front of the car, then retrieved the jack.

He was freezing and pulled the bed sheet
tight around his shoulders and over his head. He looked back and
didn’t see the Tahoe, but he was sure they were there somewhere in
the distance, watching. He dialed Mark’s number and silently
begged,
Please, Mark, answer the phone...

James hadn’t spoken to Mark, his old college
roommate, since Christmas. Mark had a smooth tongue, it was laced
with charm and notes of understanding—the epitome of charisma, and
it all came naturally to him. He had a gift, he was magnetic, and
he could chat up anyone, especially women. The fairer sex seemed
incapable of not engaging him with their most sheltered secrets. It
was because of this ability that James understood Mark’s chosen
profession as a private investigator, even though Mark graduated
from UC with a bachelor’s degree in computer science. Mark’s
natural appeal was about to pay off for James in a big way. What he
wanted from him was not what Mark could talk you out of, but what
he could talk you in to.

“Hello.”

“Mark, its James, I need your help.” James
shivered from the cold and wanting to quickly get to the point.

“Sure, bud. What’s going on?”

“I’m going to send you a package and I need
you to sweet talk one of your police buddies into doing some work
off the grid.”

“Well sweet talking is my game. What’s in the
package?”

“A hair.”

“Ah, man, is Bridget cheating on you? Did you
find it in your apartment or something?”

“No, nothing like that Mark, you know
better.”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s my first instinct in my
line of business, it’s way too common nowadays, infidelity, you
know. I’ve seen the dark side of the human condition. Shame is my
clients never realize that by the time I’m involved, the marriage
or relationship has been over for months or even years. So, you
want to know who the hair belongs to, right?”

“Yes. But there can be no record of the
lookup.”

“Right, this type of thing isn’t usually
posted on the police docket, if you know what I mean.”

“Great, so I’m going to send it to you
general delivery, to the post office on Royal. You know the
one?”

“Yes.”

“Check the main post office on Wednesday. I
need the results like super fast, okay?”

“That’s the only way I work, buddy. I already
have an idea of a pretty lady that will take care of this for me.
Trust me, it will be my pleasure. Who’s the suspect?”

“What do you mean? I was hoping the hair
would tell me that.”

“The hair will confirm a suspect was at a
location. It’s only valuable in that way. You’ve been watching too
many movies if you think the hair will give us the name. You’ll
need someone to match it to.”

“Shit. Here I thought I had the upper hand.
What if I don’t know the name? I mean he said his name was Mr.
Wright, but I’m sure that’s not it.”

“Okay, just get me something, a tag number,
an address, a bill. Hell, look through his trash if you have to,
get me any detail and I can start investigating.”

“I can tell you they drive a black Tahoe, but
I don’t know the tag. Oh, and they rented rooms on or before
Friday. It was room 122 and most likely the nearby rooms at an
Embassy Suites near the Airport, I–405, next to the Amtrak lines. I
don’t know the address. I’m dealing with ghosts here.”

“Okay, I can start with the hotel. It should
provide our first trail. Can I contact you?”

“No, the phones are bugged, my condo is
bugged. Hell, they even said they have bugs at the bank. I borrowed
this phone and I’m at the lake naked under a sheet.”

“Are you fucking with me? You’re naked under
a sheet and being bugged? What’s going on?”

“I’m in big trouble, Mark, being blackmailed
to do illegal things at the bank. They tail Bridget and me
everywhere. They beat me up and wrecked my mustang.”

“They wrecked the mustang? Oh, shit, got it.
Okay, check for messages from me in the Seattle Times, personal ads
section. I’ll be telling you what I find there. Look for SAM M.D.
Use the third, fifth and seventh letter in the words to decipher
it. The first one will be in a couple of days. At the end of the ad
will be the new key for the next message. How are they blackmailing
you?”

“Okay, that will work. They’re watching me,
but I don’t think that will be obvious, just keep the ad short. I’d
go into the blackmailing part, but I need to cut this short. You’re
a godsend Mark. Thanks.”

“Not a problem, I owe you one. Check in two
days and send the hair, I’ll get started. Bye, James, be careful,
man.”

James pressed end—call and felt a sense of
despair come over him, but it was quickly chased away by the
cold.

The GPS transponder was tucked into the wheel
well inches from James’s head. James never saw it, but he suspected
they were carrying some type of tracking device, so it didn’t
matter. He looked around the area again, the lake was eerily quiet.
He quickly gathered the spare and jack and put them in the trunk
and walked back to the passenger door, convinced any listening
device on his phone or wallet or wherever else they may have placed
one was foiled by his plan.

By the time he sat back in the passenger
seat, he was so cold that his entire body was visibly
trembling.

“Oh, baby, you’re freezing,” said Bridget as
she climbed onto his lap. “I know you’re teasing me, but I also
know what will warm you up.” She started to kiss his neck. “Where
are you cold?” she asked suggestively.

James wasn’t really in the mood, but Bridget
had a way of making him forget all his troubles. “Here,” he said
touching his bruised lips.

She kissed him on his mouth. His swollen lip
hurt, but the kiss felt good at the same time. She began to breathe
heavily. Soon with a little stimulation from Bridget, James was a
healthy 98.6 degrees and rising. She removed her jeans, her
panties, and was in his lap, moving up and down in little crescent
moon movements. Concrete Blonde was singing ‘Take Me Home’ and
James let Bridget control the pace. He closed his eyes, felt the
rhythm of her hips, and knew he loved everything about this
woman.

Her body went through a series of slight
convulsions. Her thighs tightened over his, then relaxed, and her
eyelids grew heavy. She fell into him and tenderly bit his earlobe
and whispered, “This is quickly becoming my favorite spot in
Seattle.” She savored the afterglow, gently kissing his neck and
shoulders.

“Mine, too,” said James as the stress of the
day drained from him.

* * * *

The Tahoe slowed in unison with the GPS
tracked Honda. When the Honda stopped, the Tahoe pulled to the side
of the service road that wrapped Green Lake. Mr. Wright and his
team were about a hundred yards back and could barely see the Honda
from their vantage point, but were satisfied they could hear
everything being discussed inside the vehicle.

“What the hell is he wearing?” asked Wright
when he saw James exit the vehicle.

“It looks like a poncho or something. Do you
want me to get closer?” the driver asked.

“No, don’t do anything.”

Mr. Wright thought for a moment, then
ordered, “Remove the interior bulb.” The bulb was removed and he
slowly opened the passenger door, carefully closed it, and ran to
the darkest part of the road. He inched along the brush line,
trying to get a better view of the parked vehicle. He stopped every
ten feet or so and reevaluated the scene.

It was too dark for normal vision and when he
switched to night vision, he couldn’t make out much of anything
other than a fuzzy-green silhouette from the moonlight and the
plume of exhaust fumes. He was using a pair of high quality night
vision binoculars, but the distance and the full moon distorted the
image and he tossed them to the ground in frustration, picked them
back up, and dusted off the lens.

“Do you guys hear anything?”

“Not really, just her singing,” was the
response.

“You don’t hear him changing the tire?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

After making it about 100 feet, Mr. Wright
thought he might be getting too close and started making his way
back to the Tahoe.

“Still don’t hear anything?”

“Ah, sir, we do hear something.”

“Okay, pipe it into my earpiece.” Wright
immediately recognized the sounds, the heavy breathing, the
rhythmic creaking of the leather on the seat, the silky friction of
flesh on flesh, the sounds of deep kisses and moans. He looked back
with his binoculars and couldn’t see a damn thing, just bright
green reflections in the form of some odd visible aura of
moonlight.

As he climbed back into the Tahoe, he noticed
his entire team was completely enthralled by what they were
hearing. Envy cloaked the atmosphere in the Tahoe.

Mr. Wright quietly shut the door and said, “I
hate this guy.”

The others couldn’t agree more.

The associate in the back offered his input,
“I love that girl.”

Again, the others couldn’t agree more.

The drive back to University was quiet, both
in the Honda and the Tahoe. The traffic was light now and the
driver of the Tahoe stayed well back on I–5. They heard Bridget say
she forgot something at work and lost her trail among the crowd
exiting the closing Lounge. They didn’t see her slip the cell phone
back to Cindy. The exchange took less than a couple of seconds, as
she leaned in and kissed Cindy on the cheek and the encounter was
completely missed by Wright’s team.

At 12:45, the Honda pulled into the parking
lot of the condominium and parked in the reserved spot for 602. The
crew watched as James, now fully clothed, and without the poncho,
was escorted into the lobby by Bridget, who carried a laundry
basket. The entire crew exited the Tahoe. They were dejected—having
to listen to them having sex made them miss their respective
girlfriends or wives. They entered the condo, rented from a
Japanese businessman, and plopped themselves into the chairs that
surrounded the makeshift surveillance equipment table. The condo
was a perfect selection in that it was one floor below James’s.

“What’s wrong?” asked the surveillance tech
who had stayed behind, noting the listlessness of the team.

“Nothing, just that we picked the luckiest
guy in the OTS to mark. Listen to channel four, at about the eleven
pm mark,” replied one associate, as he mindlessly flipped through
the
Japanese Monthly
magazine he’d picked up from the nearby
breakfast bar.

“Listen to it later,” ordered Mr. Wright.
“Did you get the mics replaced or fixed?”

“Yes, sir, I added five additional mics and
two additional cameras. This maxes out our recording channels, so
it’s the best I can do.”

“Fine, get driver two on the phone. I want to
find out who was working tonight at The Lounge. In the meantime,
can someone please explain why I’m blind to what’s happening in her
car?”

“Sir, we’re out of channels, I’ve maxed out
the system,” repeated the surveillance tech.

“How much did we spend on this crap?” asked
Mr. Wright, as he took the cell phone offered by another associate,
“Driver two, sir,” the associate announced.

“It’s not crap, sir,” said the tech defending
his equipment.

“How much?”

“A little over one million.”

“I don’t care what you have to do. I want a
camera in that car or you can find a new job.”

“I can remove a channel in her apartment.
She’s never there anyway.”

“If that’s what you have to do, then do it,
but do it before sun up,” Mr. Wright shot back.

“Yes, sir, I’ll install it in the CD player
and add a new relay to the GMC and Tahoe setup.”

“Go,” barked Mr. Wright now talking into the
cell phone. Driver two relayed the good news; he had chatted up a
rather talkative bartender and was able to get the full names of
the four ladies working. He spilled off the names as Wright wrote
them down. He passed the note to the associate thumbing through the
magazine, “Make yourself useful and start digging.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have a long night, so down the Red Bulls
or coffee.”

They worked through the night never knowing
they had missed the conversation between James and Mark, only
thinking of the sizzling action between James and Bridget.

Chapter Five

~ Shelly Spenser ~

Monday came too early
for James, but the surveillance team saw it coming, second by
second, minute by minute, as they listened to James and Bridget
sleep. They couldn’t wait for Monday to come and pass. If all went
well today, they were scheduled to start shift rotation Monday
night and that meant they could sleep and call family and
girlfriends.

James filled his coffee cup, noted Bridget
was still dead to the world, and quietly entered the bathroom. He
looked into the mirror. The cuts were healing nicely and his
appearance wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated. The only area of
concern was the deepening shade of blue that bordered his right
eye. The entire right side of his face was still tender to the
touch, but all in all, it would be fine. He mentally prepared his
story for his co-workers and supervisors. He was in an accident,
but was fine. It wasn’t as bad as they thought. He told himself he
would keep the answers to any questions short and vague.