Albatross (17 page)

“What’s wrong?” Becky asked as they walked to the elevator together.

Under normal circumstances, Becky knew that Samantha would say that nothing was wrong or at least toned down the problem and minimized things. The fact that Samantha was talking at a high rate of speed with minimal intakes of air confirmed that there were even bigger problems on the horizon.

As Samantha relayed the whole story to Becky, Becky marveled at her sister’s abilities. Becky knew that her sister, her “Pumpkin,” as she used to call her, was a prostitute. She knew that Samantha could get anyone to believe anything she wanted. Men believed she cared only for them. The nursing school board had believed she had wanted to be a nurse. Samantha had told Becky that she had even convinced one of her professors named David Caulfield that she had given up hooking. Over the years, though, this Caulfield guy seemed to make an impression on her sister. Samantha got interested in school and learning. He was a great influence on her, Becky had always thought. He wasn’t a pig either. Becky thought it was great that Samantha had finally met a guy who didn’t like her for just sex.

They had crossed the lobby to the elevator, waited, entered, and finally arrived at Becky’s hotel door. In a nonstop, matter-of-fact report, Samantha had summarized her meeting Burns and getting him help, her leaving the hospital, going back to her other profession, being warned by Caulfield that she might be in danger, the ensuing attack, the murder, the call from Burns, who now remembered being a spy and had saved his therapist but not the therapist’s wife, and how she had to have a face-to-face meeting with the spy so that she could take David, Becky, and the baby underground until things blew over.

When Becky was not eating to reduce stress, she would pull her oversized clothes over her butt and make jokes. As Becky fiddled with the electronic lock, she tried to stay calm, but it wasn’t working. She finally said, “I was hoping to meet this Caulfield guy, but I was hoping it would be under different circumstance.”

Becky didn’t intend to make Samantha feel bad.

“I’m sorry, Becky. I really didn’t want to make things worse—” Samantha started to say.

“No, Pumpkin. I didn’t mean that. I actually meant I did want to meet him. You seemed to like him, and he was actually a nice guy. I’m sorry he’s hurt. None of this seems fair,” Becky said.

Becky’s heart ached for her brother. His death was so raw and recent that she was still in shock. With Samantha in trouble, she needed to get focused.
She needs me. I need her,
Becky admitted to herself. Becky was still struggling with the door when she realized Samantha was not the only one that needed her. At last, the door finally opened.

The room was small but nice. Becky became self-conscious of the fast food wrappers on the table. While there were many of them, they were stacked neatly. That was another thing that had changed. Becky remembered that she used to be carefree and easygoing. Over time, her obsessiveness about cleaning, folding, and personal hygiene started to annoy even her. Becky knew all these traits and behaviors were more about control than “just actions” or some “deep-seated meaning.” She hated to admit it, but the folding, cleaning, washing, they all just made her feel like she had some control. It just got worse when she felt her world was out of control, which it was.
I really should get help for this
, Becky had often thought.
Medication and therapy are back on
the to-do list.

Becky motioned for Samantha to come closer as they crossed the short distance from the door to the other side of the room. In a crib between a love seat by the window and the queen-sized bed was a two-month-old baby who was sleeping. Becky looked at Samantha, who looked at the baby before she looked back at her sister. Becky could see that Samantha was at a complete loss for words. Finally, she found something to say. “Boy?”

“Girl,” Becky responded blankly. Becky typically didn’t like babies. She didn’t know why; she just didn’t. Becky had loved her brother, and now he was gone. The only thing he had left behind for her was a responsibility for this little girl who wasn’t even his. Tony had loved the baby as if it had been his own, and that was good enough for her.

“How old?” Samantha asked.

“I think about two months. Not really cute though,” Becky added.

“They get cute when they are about six months old,” Samantha clarified.

Becky looked at Samantha and then remembered. “Ah … you did an infant/maternity rotation.”

“Yup … and that’s about all I know about infants. Does she have a name?”

Becky was embarrassed and remained quiet for a moment, looking for something to say. She realized that she had not been with any adults who would have asked that very question. She was also very embarrassed because Tony had probably told her the baby’s name a couple of times, but she either had not cared to remember or just hadn’t liked the baby and the situation enough to remember. Becky felt the heat rising on her face.

“I’ve been calling her Emma,” Becky lied.

“What do you mean you’ve been calling her Emma? Is that her name?” Samantha pressed.

Frustrated, Becky blurted out, “I don’t know her name—okay! I never liked the girlfriend, didn’t like the situation, and now Tony’s dead!”

The anger that spewed from Becky’s mouth surprised even her.

Samantha softened and slowly hugged her sister again and said, “I’m so sorry—”

Becky thought she would never stop crying.

Becky felt Samantha hold her tightly.

“I like the name … Emma,” Becky said weakly through her sobs.

“It’s a nice name, Becky. It’s really nice,” Samantha said sweetly.

Becky felt she was being held up by her sister alone. Becky felt as if she had no strength in her legs to support herself anymore. She had never heard her be so soothing before. Becky’s knees buckled, and they both sat on the bed, Becky crying, a baby peacefully sleeping feet away, and Samantha taking care of both of them.

Three hours later, Samantha was on the roof of an exposed garage in the middle of New York City, looking for a four-door sedan.

It was easy to spot the car because it was close to 4:00 p.m. and the garage was clearing out. In the far end of the lot, she approached and found one occupant. At first, she was not sure if the person sitting was alive or dead until the person’s head moved to the left and right. As she approached the car, she looked at David, who did not see her, even though she had been right on the other side of the glass. She first noticed the bandages covering both eyes and more wide bandages on his neck going down to his chest. She knocked gently on the window, and David jumped.

“Sorry,” Samantha said.

David caught his breath and opened the door. Samantha kneeled down to eye level.

“I’m sorry,” Samantha said again. She had been saying that a lot these days.

“Thank God you are all right, Samantha” David responded. She was touched to think that in light of all he had lost, he was glad she was all right. It wasn’t fair. He had lost everything. He then pulled a cell phone from the car seat and gave it to her.

“Alex is going to call,” David continued.

Alex?
Samantha thought.
David is on a first-name basis with the guy who is the reason everyone is losing everything?

The cell phone rang. Samantha looked at it, and so did David, though his was solely out of habit.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” David commented.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Samantha reassured.

David said nothing. He just sat there. Samantha knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What?” Samantha answered with a bad attitude she didn’t try to hide.
I’ve really got to work on my people skills
, she thought.

Burns was to the point. “Here’s the deal, Ms. Littleton. I need you to hang low for about six months until I find the ones responsible for all this. There are three potential cities I need to search, and then I have to come up with a plan that will work to either get leverage or buy your way out of it.”

“Come on, Burns,” Samantha interrupted. “You really think I expect you to ever return?”

Burns continued, “There are some clothes that might fit David in the trunk along with forty thousand dollars. I want you to go to a moderate, low-end, extended-stay suite and sit tight. I will call in two weeks with instructions on where to go next. I would get out of New York. Keep this phone safe. It’s the only lifeline you have.”

Samantha hesitated and then had to ask, “Do you really think you can get us all out of this?” She really didn’t want to sound too hopeful.

Samantha gauged Burns’s honesty by the response, content, and time. He was quiet for the longest ten seconds Samantha had ever experienced. The content was not much better. “I don’t know. I know how my organization works, but it will take time. If they really think David is dead and if you really can disappear and I get really lucky and find them, it might work. Are you taking your sister and the baby with you?”

Samantha’s answer was simply yes.

“Okay. There’s a revolver that uses .38-caliber bullets. It has good stopping power if you are close to your target. Have you used a weapon before?”

Another simple answer for Samantha—no. Then Samantha realized that a “knife” counted as a weapon. She was sure he had meant “gun.”

“Then don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. The car your sister used, I would get rid of it and take this one. I switched the plates on a car that already left.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Burns added, “And Ms. Littleton? Don’t work. They will assume you need money really fast and be on the look in every sex industry venue to find you. You need to stay off the grid for three months at least. Do you have the phone of the person who attacked you?”

“Yes,” Samantha answered.

“Leave it behind the car. Any questions?”

“Are you really going to help, or are we fucked?” Samantha had to know.

She waited for Burns to answer. His answer, while slow, seemed believable. “I am really going to help, but we’re all pretty screwed. I do owe you both. If you don’t hear from me in two weeks starting today, you need to assume I am dead. You need to make note that today is Wednesday, so in two weeks on that Wednesday between 4:00 and 5:00 p.m., I will call.”

Burns added something that had Samantha believe that he would call: “As my former therapist would say, ‘this is a marathon and not a sprint; success will be measured in inches, not miles.’ But a success is still a success.”

Samantha observed her feelings. She was getting better at this chore. She had attended a lecture David had given where he had used those very words.

“Okay,” Samantha finally said. She hung up the phone, walked behind the car, and placed the other cell phone in place.

As she entered the driver’s seat, David asked, “So how bad is it?”

“Real bad,” Samantha said.

“Do you believe him?” David continued.

“Yes,” Samantha responded. She was surprised by the answer almost as much as David was. Samantha knew that David was aware of how distrustful her nature was, so if she believed in Burns, either he was really sociopathic, or he was for real. Because Burns had not killed them both, Samantha independently ruled out sociopathology.

As Samantha made her way to pick up Becky and Emma, she was deep in thought. Samantha knew she had to think in terms of years until things got better. She could think in terms of years, she reminded herself. She had fought cancer. She had completed college and nursing school. Samantha couldn’t understand why she was smiling until she saw Becky waiting for her. Samantha was with the two people she knew cared for her without judgment.
Kind of weird to think of that as you’re getting ready to hide underground from people who want you dead
, she thought.

Chapter 11

Today was May 2.
Burns and his team had waited years to put this together and pull it off. Burns remembered how doubtful he had been years ago. His team had been formed more out of desperation than choice. He remembered his first phone call with Samantha on the bus when she had made him feel guilty, compelling into helping them. He remembered almost fondly his conversation on the phone when she had come for David and pushed him to tell the truth and to commit to trying to keep them all alive. He was impressed with his new team’s abilities of researching, acquisitions, reconnaissance, planning, and improvising.

While he mused, he started to think of the next steps that needed to be taken if everything was to work. It took him only five minutes to find the electrical power junction and separate backup power to the police and fire department in North Reading. Neither was clearly marked for obvious reasons. It was 7:45 a.m., and he expected Samantha at any moment; however, he knew she would have to put the ambulance somewhere it did not draw attention. Prior to leaving the car, he had removed his paramedic jacket, retained the black slacks, and now donned a white shirt and black tie and a SWAT vest. With the addition of the .44 Magnum and the required aviator glasses with proper FBI identification, he would easily pass as some sort of law enforcement or federal agent. Now in the possession of high-yield military explosives and remote detonators, he would have a viable excuse for being at the standby generator, should any utility workers see him and ask questions. With the coordinated terrorist attacks he was now hearing about on the news and police scanner, he needed to blend in as part of the solution and not the problem. As Burns was finishing the first set of remote explosives on the primary power junction, he heard someone behind him. Before he could turn, Samantha identified herself.