Origins (Remote) (11 page)

“Do you have a special place in them? A clubhouse or something?”

“No, not really. There’s a tree house. Not really a tree house but just like a platform that me and some guys built back there a couple of summers ago.”

“Uh huh. And what did you guys do back there Mr. Ronnie Gilmore?” For some reason Cassie seemed to have found some spirit. Some of the sassiness was back and Ronnie liked it. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Take me there.”

Passersby standing in the back of the library or out on the sidewalk would have thought the stand of trees and brush to be solid, a wall of vegetation to be cut through. But that summer of two years ago had been spent well in the mind of a young boy. Ronnie and two of his friends, Gil Spann and Rich Kent, had devoted the greater part of the summer to making this particular stretch of woods their own. Early mornings and late evenings were best for making their way through the trees, finding the easiest way to get from point A to point B without actually cutting a path. The middle of the day was best spent sprawled underneath a tree, the heat and humidity making movement a sweating chore. At some point in the middle of it all they’d managed to get a supply of scrap wood and some nails, a gift from Gill’s father who was slowly but surely enclosing the carport on the house for a TV room.

The trio had spent the better part of two days hauling the wood into the trees, finally settling on the ideal triangle of three solid trunks that would support their limited construction ability. A ladder was built up each tree with foot long pieces of two-by-four to a height of about thirty feet. Longer pieces went into the three supports, wisely backed up by reinforcements underneath, doubled up then nailed generously. Rich had proven himself a whiz with a tape measure, carefully selecting each scrap piece and placing it properly to optimize their floor space. The result was a three sided platform measuring almost exactly ten feet on each side. Ronnie remembered standing underneath it, looking up in awe. It was a marvel of eleven year old engineering.

Now he led Cassie to the far edge of the cleared lot, into a corner covered in shade by an oak that had been an acorn when Andrew Jackson lit up the British not too many miles away. The scrub and weeds thinned out here and if you didn’t mind a little scraping you could push past and into the woods where the line of green thinned out, the ground shaded from the sun. Cassie didn’t seem to mind and she and Ronnie found themselves on an almost invisible path, worn down by Ronnie and his friends and undoubtedly by others though no one else was around now. The path led deeper into the woods, just beginning to be crowded by the plants that would be thick and lush and sticky by summers end. Ronnie had taken the lead and he moved easily through the scrub. Cassie moved up behind him and reached forward to hold his hand, allowing him to lead her deeper. They passed down and through a small gully, dried and broken sticks on the bottom, back up the other side and made a sharp turn to the right. Another fifty yards further in Ronnie stopped and pointed upward.

Almost two years of weather and damp had done little to decay the structure. Gil’s father had gone the extra dollars and used pressure treated wood and the investment had paid off in the scraps, still solidly suspended between the trees. Ronnie grabbed the lowest rung and pulled. The wood held firm. He stepped up on to the short piece of two-by-four and bounced, looked back and saw
Cassie nod. He turned and headed up, reached the top in a few seconds. Stepping out onto the platform he heard a few creaks but the structure was sound as he moved back and forth. He leaned over the edge and called down to Cassie.

“It’s okay. Can you make it or do you need help?’

“Are you kidding?” Cassie said. She grabbed hold of the bottom rung and scampered up the ladder. A few seconds later she was standing on the platform with Ronnie. From that vantage point they could look out over the woods and see the trail they had just come down , a snaking path faintly visible, wending it’s way back towards the library. The height gave anyone on top an advantage while the branches of the surrounding trees made seeing the platform difficult.

“This is it,”
Cassie said. “If we run, we run here first.”

Thorne was peaking on adrenaline. The next forty-eight hours would make or break his operation and his career. The sessions with Ronnie and
Cassie were set for the following afternoon. The question in his mind was whether he should wait and play it out before seizing the pair. He had spent the night agonizing over the decision, weighing the pros and cons. He was running a covert intelligence operation on American soil, one that could prove to possess unlimited reach and change the scope of world power, but his grasp of it was hanging on a thread. It was an unbelievable situation and he knew unless he provided proof of its effectiveness he would be skewered mercilessly. Neither Farrow nor Ruff was fully invested and neither was willing to stick his neck out and take a chance. Thorne believed they were more college professor than CIA operative. The ability to take the initiative and move on the smallest bits of information had been his calling card again and again in his career, in Cambodia and Viet Nam, working with informants in Cuba, and in some instance the Soviet Union itself. He now had a chance to jumpstart operations in the Middle East.

To do so however would put him in direct opposition to the orders of Archer. And Archer was a powerful man. In the past he would never have dared to act against any order issued by a man he respected, even feared. But the power. The power he would wield if he could only get these two under his control. It was a tantalizing thought. There wouldn’t be anyone who could touch him. He knew too much now and would know even more when he could control this asset. It was just too much. He decided he couldn’t wait and called in his team leaders.

“This thing is a go,” he said to the men assembled in his office. “We hit just after midnight. Get the boy first, then the girl. I want them unharmed. Transfer will be immediate. There’s a plane waiting at Moisant Airport for transportation to the safe house. I want immediate confirmation when they’re in custody and when they’re on the plane.” The decision had been made. There was no turning back for Thorne.

Cassie
Reynold and Ronnie Gilmore spent that Monday at school and in the afternoon met behind the library, making their way into the woods and back to the platform where they began laying out a variety of items. Cassie had insisted on being prepared for whatever might happen. Those preparations included water, canned food and an opener, two loaves of bread Ronnie had stolen from his mother’s freezer, peanut butter, and to Ronnie’s embarrassment Cassie had included a roll of toilet paper.

“What did you think Ronnie? We could go for days without going to the bathroom?” She’d said when his face went red.

“I guess I didn’t think about that.”

“That’s okay,”
Cassie said, “I’ll do the thinking, you just do what I tell you.” She was smiling when she said it but Ronnie was struck with the change in Cassie since they’d met. Or maybe it wasn’t Cassie. Maybe it was him. He thought back over the last couple of years he had spent watching her and wishing he could know her. Now it was here and he was amazed that he hadn’t realized just exactly what he was seeing. She wasn’t just a cute girl. Cassie was a real person. She’d transformed from some kind of vision into a day to day reality. Her personality was overwhelming at times. She could flip from serious and thoughtful to lighthearted and laughing again in the space of a few seconds. She was intelligent, almost frighteningly so, and could see things where he was blind. Yesterday she had taken over the thinking. She knew what they were going to do, had formulated a plan, before he’d come to terms with the situation. He found himself carried along by the strength of her personality. She was a challenge. Ronnie wondered if he was up to it. He trusted her completely. They were in a fix but she would get them through it.

The bags were emptied and the contents stored on one corner of the platform. That done, they sat on the edge, their legs dangling over the woods below them. Behind the library groups of kids shouted back and forth, the sound carrying through the trees.
Cassie was quiet, looking out over the woods. Ronnie caught the mood and stayed silently beside her. Finally, she reached over and took his hand, held it in both of hers.

“I wish this hadn’t happened like this Ronnie,” she said. “I wish we had just gotten together some other way. I wish you’d just showed up at my house one day.” She held his hand up by the wrist and flattened her other hand against his, palm to palm. “But that’s not what we’ve got. I don’t know why this is happening but we’ve got to stick together. To tell you the truth I’m pretty scared.” She finally looked up and Ronnie could see the tears welling in her eyes again. “I’ve always known when things were going to happen and I’ve got this feeling now that horrible things are coming. It’s like a fire alarm going off in my head. I don’t want to have to go through them all alone.”

“We’ll just stick together.. How bad can it get?” Ronnie said. He couldn’t stand to see her cry so he kept his eyes straight ahead. “What can they do? We’ll just stop helping them.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ronnie Gilmore.”
Cassie let go of his hand and pulled his face towards her. “Look at me. You know these are bad people. We both saw it. Didn’t you see it coming off Thorne? It was like poison. Most people can’t see that. They’d pass him on the street and not think anything. But you and I can see it. We see things other people can’t see. That’s why they want us.”

Ronnie wanted to run. Or cry, or do something but he didn’t know what to do so he just sat there. The idea that something this big was heading his way was unbearable but it was there and he knew it, as much as he didn’t want to know it. He sat beside
Cassie on the platform, trying to find some way out, something easy, but it wasn’t there. Cassie was ready to face it head on. At least he thought she was but Ronnie felt it might be too big and too overwhelming even for her.

“Here’s what we have to do.”
Cassie said, wiping her eyes. The strong side of her was out front again, Ronnie could feel it, like a change in the wind. “Be ready to run. They want us. They’ll use our families to get to us if they’re forced to but we can’t help that. Tonight when you go home put together some stuff in a bag, clothes and stuff. Get any money you can. I’ve got almost fifty dollars saved from birthdays and Christmas. If anything happens, we meet here. From there we’ll have to get away, probably to my Aunt Julie’s, and see if she can hide us. After that I don’t know. We’ll think of something, or she will.”

The Gilmore’s house sat in the middle of the block, shaded on each side by rows of bushes reaching head height. Five minutes after midnight a car pulled up. Three men got out, allowing the doors to swing almost but not quite closed. None spoke. One headed directly for the backyard, vaulting over the low chain link fence without a sound, while the other two split, one took his position alongside the front door. The other stepping softly onto the covered carport where a door opened directly into the kitchen. Two minutes after their arrival the kitchen door was open. A minute after that the front was open. The back door, a sliding glass, remained locked. The third partner back there would stay outside covering any chance of escape. There was little to no chance of resistance here but Thorne had been adamant. No mistake. Cover all the bases. The two men inside went directly to the master bedroom. The door was open, Ronnie’s parents lying side by side.

Ronnie had been up late. He’d spent the time after dinner packing clothes and money and a toothbrush and odds and ends into his bat bag which lay beside his bed. At the last minute he’d added the bat, a gift from his father for his 12th birthday, sliding it into the long sleeve. He’d done it without thinking. After that he’d read for an hour or so, falling asleep with the book on his chest. A rattling sound, almost indistinct among the other night sounds, had ticked in his mind, pulling him halfway awake. The kitchen door made a brief almost imperceptible screech when it opened and it was enough to drag him awake. Ronnie’s eyes popped open, an internal alarm blaring like a fire alarm. He held his breath, listening. If he’d learned anything in the last few weeks from
Cassie it was to trust to his instincts. Right now they were on full alert. He sat up and slipped into his shoes, reached down and picked up the bat bag, pulled the bat from its place. He waited.

The two men met in the hallway, moving silently and deliberately. One of the men peeled off from the master bedroom and headed for Ronnie’s room. The plan was simple. Ronnie was to be removed from his room quickly and quietly, disappearing without a trace, another runaway kid with distraught parents and no real reason. It would make things simple. If things went wrong the Gilmores would all vanish, a scenario that could be explained away by rumors of financial problems and family issues. It wouldn’t be ideal but it would be workable.

As he approached Ronnie’s door the man, who went by the name Gene, for no other reason than that he had to go by something, pulled a revolver from his hip holster. The last possibility on his mind was using it. He pulled it by reflex. If nothing else it would serve to intimidate the boy he was coming to get. He held the revolver in his right hand and slipped the doorknob, opening the door into the boy’s room. The window was on the far wall away from the bed, a tall dresser on the right. The window let in just enough light to make out shapes. Gene could see the bed. He took two steps into the room, the revolver still held low and away. He took another step. The bed was empty.

Ronnie Gilmore stepped out from behind the dresser in full swing. His father was no cheapskate when it came to providing Ronnie with sports equipment. He’d spent good money on this bat. Ronnie was swinging 31 inches of maple weighing a total of 29 ounces. The slight movement he’d made coming from behind the dresser hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gene but by then it was too late. A half turn in the bat caught him full in the forehead three quarters of the way through Ronnie’s swing. It shattered the thickest part of his skull, making a solid crunching thud that echoed through the house and was followed by a crash as Gene fell back against the wall and then pitched lifelessly down in the doorway. Ronnie saw the gun fall and picked it up without thinking.

The second man, left behind to watch over the sleeping parents, reacted immediately. He started down the hallway his gun already in his hand. He was thinking he had to get the kid. The Gilmores would be dealt with afterward. The boy was the priority. Anything else could be handled. Ronnie saw him coming, dropped the bat from his left hand, and raised the pistol. He fired once and caught the moving figure full in the chest. The man staggered and fell forward.

Cassie
, Ronnie thought.
If they’re here for me they’ll be after her too
. He grabbed his bag, stuck the gun in his back pocket. Stepping over the bodies of the men in the hall he could hear his mother screaming. He kept moving. Stepping into the front room he saw the front door already open and he went through it without stopping. He had six blocks to go and he ran them full out. Five minutes later he was standing next to the Reynolds fence, his heart pounding, trying to catch his breath. He sat for two minutes, listening for sounds. He heard nothing but normal night noises. A cricket chirped. Somewhere in the neighborhood a car’s tire screeched. He had come up well away from the sidewalk, running close along the houses to avoid being seen. He looked before moving again but saw nothing out of place. There was a porch light burning on Cassie’s house but the inside itself was dark. Ronnie went over the chain link fence and crouched in the shadows under the window in the back where she’d told him her bedroom looked out over the yard. Another minute passed. Finally he tapped on the window lightly. Almost immediately the curtains parted and Cassie looked out. She cracked the window. Ronnie said “Let’s go.”

Thorne was furious. He paced the room back and forth, his anger feeding on itself. The third man had heard the commotion inside, coming out of the backyard in time to see Ronnie running down the street. He had been tempted to chase him but the sound of gunshots and his partner’s absence made him think leaving was the better option. Now he was trapped in the room with Thorne. They’d gone over it more than once and still neither man knew with any certainty what had happened. The screaming from inside the house was enough to let Thorne know that he probably had two agents either dead or captured, a scenario far worse than any he had envisioned. Dead was better than captured though.

“Goddammit,” Thorne said, running his hands over his head. “How the hell does this happen? I send you out to snatch two kids and I’ve got a disaster on my hands. Civilians. Goddamn civilians. Jesus.”

He stopped and leaned his back against the wall, closed his eyes. React. Think and react. Damage control would have to be done and done quickly. He could deal with the here and now. Archer was a different story. Thorne had sources inside the NOPD and he could get information from them what the parents said. Right now he had to find out was going on. The men couldn’t be tied to him. The boy and the girl were the only important thing. They had to be found but he couldn’t waltz into a police investigation and ask too many questions. Even worse, Archer was going to be looking for information from the sessions scheduled for that afternoon, sessions that wouldn’t happen now. And he would want to know why Thorne had jumped the gun.

Cassie tossed her knapsack out the window, followed by two blankets and a pillow. She squeezed herself out, hunching down in the darkness beside Ronnie. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t say anything. She led Ronnie to a corner of the backyard and threw the blankets and pillow over into the neighbor’s backyard. Ronnie was carrying the knapsack and his bat bag and she took them from him and tossed them across. The fence rattled loudly as they went over, Ronnie wincing at the sound. He followed Cassie through the neighbor’s yard and over another section of fence. They stopped in the deep shadow between the houses. Cassie put her mouth close to Ronnie’s ear. “We’ll stay close to the houses. Once we hit the woods we can talk.” Ronnie nodded and they moved out, hugging the shadows falling out from the houses, avoiding the occasional porch light. They crossed three streets, running across one at a time, and only after a long check for any cars or movement. They could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. Ronnie knew the police were on their way to his house. Before long they’d be searching the neighborhood.

Reaching the last block, the library stood surrounded in shadow. Ronnie followed the edge of the lot, making his way around with
Cassie holding his hand. The woods were pitch black and he stopped fifteen or twenty feet in. He’d never been in here when it was this dark and had no confidence he could find the platform. He stopped to get his bearing and closed his eyes to help them adjust to the darkness. Cassie held his hand, not speaking, and her presence helped him calm himself. When he opened his eyes again he could just barely make out the trees close by. He moved further in slowly until he felt the ground fall away beneath his feet. They’d reached the gully. He made the turn and headed forward, almost blind. He knew he was in the right area and moving in the right direction. He began checking each tree, feeling for the steps nailed to the sides. It took longer than he expected but he was finally rewarded with the smooth feel of a two-by-four. He took Cassie’s hand and placed it on the wood.

“You go up first but take your time,” he whispered. “Don’t move until you know where each step is.” He could see the shape of her head move as she nodded and began the climb up. When she reached the top she called down to him. “I’m up,” in a low voice and Ronnie began his own climb. He reached the top, where
Cassie wrapped her arms around him, and held him until he stopped trembling.

It was still chaos at the Gilmore house when
Cassie and Ronnie reached their hiding place in the woods. Squad cars blocked the street, spilling flashing blue lights over everything and everyone. Uniformed men milled in and out of the house. A hysterical phone call to the police had a car at the residence within 10 minutes, where they found a stunned father and a mother beyond any type of control. There was also a dead man in the hallway. He had been shot in the chest. Another man in a back bedroom whose skull had been crushed. He was still breathing. An ambulance was called. The uniform on the scene had wisely decided to bring out the heavyweights. Detective Carl Woods had just arrived.

First order of business was getting the wounded man out. That was accomplished quickly, the medics wheeling him out the door minutes after their arrival. The man in the hall would have to wait for the coroner. The parents, identified finally as Richard and Sara Gilmore, had no idea as to the identity of the two men and no idea as to the whereabouts of their son. They’d been awaked by a loud sound in the hall. When Richard Gilmore had jumped up from bed and run outside his room he’d stumbled and fallen over the man in the hallway. His confusion was only compounded by the man in his son’s room. Ronnie’s absence had them both frantic with worry and they were insistent that the police immediately drop everything else and find him.

Woods left a uniform with the parents for the time being. He stepped into the hallway and bent down to look at the body. The intruder had fallen and rolled onto his side. There was a blood stain on his black T-shirt that ran down to the floor. Not a lot of blood, which meant he had died quickly. The man in the back bedroom hadn’t been quite so lucky. The medic had pronounced him alive but wouldn’t make any promises from there.

“His forehead is crushed. There’s a bat on the floor and it looks like a major leaguer took a home run swing to it. He’s going to be lucky if he can remember his name if he lives. More than likely someone will be feeding him oatmeal with a spoon for the rest of his life.” The man pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance and slammed the door. “Don’t be expecting to do any in depth interviews with this guy.”

Woods went outside to the street and lit a cigarette. This whole scene made no sense at all. He had one dead man, another near death, a missing kid, and no other information. Right now the thought of a nice simple domestic violence case seemed really attractive. His attitude didn’t improve when the reporter showed up.

Justin Breed was a pain in the ass as far as Woods was concerned, but he wasn’t the worst of them. He’d been assigned to the crime section of the local paper for five years and managed to earn a pretty good reputation with the police department because he worked things fairly. He wasn’t averse to leaving out a sentence or two if there was a screwup, but he couldn’t be pushed around either. A grudging respect had grown between Breed and the department. He was walking toward Woods now with a notebook in his hand, lighting his own cigarette.

“Morning, Carl,” he said. “Nice way to start a summer day, isn’t it?”

“It’s not summer yet, Breed. And I don’t have anything for you.”

“Oh, Okay,” Breed said. He smiled and took a drag of his cigarette, and said nothing else. He knew if he waited long enough, Woods would get antsy and start talking. Breed had worked with him before and Woods generally came around if you just gave him enough time, but he liked to be obstinate at the start. The pair sat there smoking, staring at each other in a quiet faceoff.

“Jesus, Breed,” Woods finally said. “How’d you get here so quick? I just got here fifteen or twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, you know,” Breed said, “I got a friend that likes to listen in on the police band. He calls me when he hears stuff. I only live down the road a bit so I thought I’d pop in.”

“Yeah, right.” Woods said. He happened to know Breed lived for the job. That he had somebody on his payroll tipping him off went unsaid.

“So….anything interesting happen lately?” Breed said and laughed. He was a tall man with short cut blonde hair. His nose had been broken once and the results were still there for anyone that looked close. Woods had been told he’d been a boxer in college and he believed it. Breed wasn’t bulky but had a wiry build and moved easily on his feet. Woods had heard a story once of an irate victim that got pissed off about Breed trying to get an interview and had taken a swing at him. According to the cop that was there, Breed deflected the blow seemingly without even thinking about it, gut punching the man before the cop could step in. “Got him a nice little jab.” the patrolman had said with a grunt of respect.