The shutdown list, p.13
The Shutdown List, page 13
Anita closed her eyes as she reflected on how little she’d done for Stacey lately. Her stomach ached. “Thank you. I hope I can be there for you again one day, too. I haven’t lately.”
“You got me through the breakup with Malcolm. Don’t ever think you owe me. By the way, I haven’t seen anything suspicious around my house or at school, so I think I’m safe.”
“Thank you for that. I better go. Goodbye for now,” Anita said. “Kisses to you.”
“Kisses to you too.”
Stacey hung up.
For a few moments, Anita had forgotten how alone in the world she was since Julian had shut her out for years, Steven was lost forever, and she couldn’t go home. Speaking with Stacey made life normal for a few minutes. François was back in her life but had pushed her away at the end of last night. With Stacey no longer connected, Anita’s strength was draining away.
*
The cab dropped Anita at François’ building at 7:55 PM. As she climbed the stairs to the entryway, a door opened below the stairs, and a man stepped out of the shadows. Anita jumped and threw herself against François’ door, pushing the buzzer frantically. The man glanced her way before walking up the street. François yanked the door open, dragged her in by the arm, and slammed the door behind her.
“What is wrong?” His eyebrows were drawn together.
Unable to answer because she was hyperventilating, he gently pulled her farther inside his apartment where she stood shaking.
“A man. Scared me to death. I guess he’s your downstairs neighbor. I hadn’t noticed the door before.”
François wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back. “This can happen. Your mind has not recovered from the trauma of being captured. It might take a long time. Each time it happens, you need to remind yourself you are safe and breathe calmly. Will you try?”
Nodding, she forced a few deeper breaths.
“I am sorry, but the meeting needs to start. Come to the office.”
She followed him and sat again in the metal folding chair. This time only Zack appeared on the screen, and he looked panicked.
“Sorry we are late, Zack. What is wrong?”
“We have a problem,” Zack said. “This came from my source at the Nevada detention center about an hour ago. They’re preparing to move everyone out of the center, but no one knows where they’re taking them. It’s going on at the other detention sites, too, and he thinks it’s going to be soon. They’re throwing stuff out and filling box trucks with supplies from the storage rooms.”
“This is bad,” François said. “Erin left for West Virginia this afternoon and I have no way to reach her. She should be there by tomorrow morning.”
The two men stared at each other silently. François turned to Anita.
“We have to go now. We cannot wait for word from Erin. I have the passports for Julian and me, and you have yours. We do not know what they might do with him. We may lose any chance of rescue.”
Anita was stunned. She wasn’t ready. This was too soon. But if they were moving the detainees, they must be moving them somewhere more secure, maybe high security where they wouldn’t be able to break Julian out. Or worse. “Do you think they might kill him?”
François wrinkled his brow and turned back to Zack.
“Final plans now. I will take three burner phones and I want you to have three as well. When we need to, we throw out one and move to the next number. Never leave a message. We should have another call at four AM and exchange the burner phone numbers. Meanwhile, I want you to search for information. If Erin contacts you, call me. After we cross the border, I will rent a car and leave the Canadian car in Vermont until we return.”
“Gotcha,” Zack replied. “When are you leaving?”
“I want to beat the traffic out of the city and across the border, so we’ll be leaving around five AM. We could reach Coal Creek by tomorrow night or early the next day.”
“Okay, boss. Talk later.” Zack disconnected.
Overwhelmed by the speed and her fear of what was taking place, Anita was light-headed and couldn’t think clearly. “What do you want me to do? I have money in my hotel safe. I can’t carry it around. But maybe we’ll need it?”
“Take a cab back to your hotel and pay for the driver to wait. Pack everything, check out, then bring it all here where it is safe. We will bring some money and leave at 5:00 AM.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Lies
“Come in here,” François called from down the hall when Anita arrived back at his apartment. “Bring everything with you.”
She followed his voice to the last room at the end, François’ bedroom. A small open suitcase lay on one side of the bed on top of a white, gray, and black plaid duvet. It was partially packed, but other items were still on the bed—deodorant, toothpaste, and a handgun. Dread washed over her as she fixated on the weapon, glancing up at François as he dug through his black and chrome dresser. The reality of their journey hit her in the gut.
“You can lay your stuff out on that side. Pack only what you need. Leave the rest here. I made room in a drawer.”
Placing her suitcase on the bed, she unzipped it, revealing all the money inside. “I didn’t picture you as a gun owner.”
“Neither did I. I only take it with me when I travel to your ‘Wild West’ south of the border. Since I do not have a license to match my passport, I will not be declaring it.”
“What happens if you’re caught?” Her pulse accelerated.
“As long as no dogs are sniffing cars, I will not be caught. That is why we are using a quiet border crossing.”
This news didn’t make her heart rate slow at all. “Do you expect to need it?”
François stopped what he was doing and scrutinized her, cocking his head to the side as he swept his hair away from his face. “We are dealing with people who make other people disappear. We are dealing with people who have their own police and operate as though they are untouchable. I have no intention of dying while I do this or seeing anyone with me die. If I must use it, I will.”
As Anita stared at her belongings, trying to decide what to bring, a high-pitched ringing started in her ears and her knees began to buckle. Shallow breaths came faster and faster, giving her just enough time to shove her suitcase to the floor and flop onto the bed. A cold sweat engulfed her. “I can’t . . .,” she said, gasping, covering her face with her hands and rocking. “I’m . . . terrified.”
François walked around the bed and lay behind her, spooning her. The warmth of his arms wrapped her in a safe cocoon. She took long, deep breaths until she stopped shaking and her heartbeat slowed, laying her hands over his.
The smell of him distracted Anita as his face rested against her neck. A jolt of excitement ran down her arms to her hands, triggered by the touch of his skin. Slowly she raised one of his hands to her face and kissed it tenderly. A deep longing for him pulsed through her body.
His lips grazed her neck, and a moment later the heat of his breath filled her ear. With a deep exhale, she turned around to face him. Their lips found each other, coming together in a dance to which their memories knew the steps.
When her hands glided under his sweater, he trembled. François smoothed the hair back from her face and stroked her cheek, then slid his hand under her sweater, where he unlatched her bra. Sitting up, Anita let him pull her sweater over her head; then he removed his own clothes. He unzipped her jeans and slipped them off along with her pink-lace panties, kissing her belly before slowly exploring the rest of her nakedness. Desire consumed her, quivering at his touch.
When their mouths again connected, his breath became her own and they melted into one another.
*
The alarm woke Anita at 4:00 AM. François and his suitcase were gone, but the aroma of coffee floated in from the kitchen, hinting at his location. The soft sheets were begging her to stay and snuggle underneath, instead of facing the day ahead.
Leaning over the side of the bed, she found her belongings still on the floor—the suitcase right where she’d dumped it last night, the clothes scattered. But the bundles of cash were gone. No worries. François put them somewhere safe. She rose out of bed, slipped on her sweater, and headed to the bathroom. François’ voice came from the office, conversing with Zack. In the shower, she used his soap, loving the luxury of rubbing it all over herself where he had touched her last night. It had been far too long since she’d been touched like a lover. The steamy air filled her lungs and warmed her.
When she was finished, she rubbed her hair dry and wrapped herself in a towel, returning to the bedroom. As she lifted her suitcase onto the bed, a hand touched her waist. Before she could think, her arms spasmed from adrenaline and she dropped the suitcase, spinning around to François’ startled face. He backed away.
Anita was shaking. “You scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I am sorry. I forgot you are nervous. One hug?”
She put her arms around him, and he kissed her, but she couldn’t relax. Her stomach churned from guilt over last night, and fear of today.
What am I doing?
“You need to pack. We leave here in forty minutes. I stored your money inside my box spring. I have a hidden compartment there. Even your Mike would not find it. I kept out ten thousand dollars for expenses and bribes.”
From his top drawer, François pulled two bundles of her bills and tossed them onto the bed. “Bring clothes for warm weather. Zack says it is unseasonably hot in West Virginia. And there’s a tropical storm developing to the south. Are you okay now?” His raised eyebrows questioned her as he stroked her arm.
“Yes. Better.”
“Can I bring you coffee?”
“I’d love coffee. Thank you.”
He reached over to her and pulled her towel away, then stood, gazing at her with his sexy smile.
Her body tingled in arousal, wishing they didn’t have to leave.
“I’ll hang this up for you, my dear.”
Anita dug through her clothes and pulled out her duck boots. She hadn’t shopped for shorts in Montreal because it was November, so she didn’t have hot weather clothes. They probably wouldn’t be gone long—she hoped.
When they came back, Julian would be with her if they were successful. Then what? Would she bring him here to collect all her belongings from François’ dresser? She had no idea what her future looked like, and she didn’t dare let herself imagine it. Because if she did, she might imagine a life with François instead of Julian.
No. She put that thought out of her head right away. They would be successful. They would rescue Julian and bring him safely to Canada.
*
They reached the border at 6:50 AM on a quiet road which passed into Vermont. Orange cones shuttled traffic into one lane. A huge stop sign hung over double bays, but only one was open. Two cars waited in line ahead of them. When Anita reached into her oversized purse for her Canadian passport, she discovered the hard drive lying on the bottom and cursed to herself. In the rush, she had forgotten to stash it. Bringing it to Coal Creek was too risky, but she didn’t have a choice now.
“Look happy and laugh a little, like we are having a fun conversation about our trip.” François forced a smile. “It will help you relax. Plus, I think the cameras are already on us, looking for any suspicious activity.”
Anita chuckled and reached over to run her fingers through his hair. “You mean we are just two lovers having an adventure?”
“We are.” He smiled back at her, took her hand, and kissed it. “And I am pleased I have not seen any dogs. Keep smiling. Our turn.”
François drove to the booth and rolled down the window.
“Passports, please,” the agent said. He opened the first one and addressed François. “Your full name, address, date and place of birth, please.”
François replied effortlessly. At Anita’s turn, she did the same. They’d practiced on the way, to make sure they had it right, including other data not on the passport: What country are you a citizen of? What is your occupation?
“What is your purpose for traveling to the United States today?”
“We are going to view rental properties around Jay Peak and Stowe for skiing this winter,” François said.
“How long will you be here?”
“Four days.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Green Mountain Inn in Stowe,” he lied.
“Are you bringing any weapons, plants, fruit, drugs, or alcohol into the country?”
“No.” François lied again. His gun was buried in the trunk under a pile of rope.
The agent turned to his computer and scanned the passports. Anita barely breathed, but she forced herself to look happy. If only this story were true. She imagined skiing with François this winter. They’d race each other down the trails, drink hot cocoa at lunch, and soak in the hot tub before making love in their room.
The agent handed the passports back to François and wished them a good trip.
“Saeed does impressive work,” François said as Anita watched the border crossing disappear in her visor mirror. “I had planned on having him make us badges for the Coal Creek Detention Center, once Erin lifted one off somebody, but no time now.”
“You’re very good at lying to border agents,” Anita said, smiling.
“It is easier every time. The trick is to believe it. Forget real life and believe the imagination. I tell him because I believe we are going to Vermont together to plan our winter with each other. Do you still ski? You were good back in college.”
We’re both pretending what we wish were true. “I haven’t for a few years, but I would love to again. I wish ski season didn’t keep getting shorter. There’s too much rain and not enough snow in the Northeast now.”
As they drove by a gas station, Anita shook her head. “The price of gas has dropped fifty cents a gallon since I left on Sunday. It must be because oil companies got their way on changing the laws. I thought the prices were being manipulated to make people mad.”
François nodded in agreement. “A common tactic. Scare people in the wallet and they support anything to stop hurting. They forget it makes worse pain later.”
“Where do you plan on renting a car?” Anita asked.
“Can you find me something between here and Stowe? I am hoping we can hide at the Deer Run Inn on the way back if we need to. I like to have a safe house near the border. We should stop and ask them.”
And I can give Caitlyn the hard drive for Paul instead of carrying it around.
Anita pulled out her phone and checked for rental cars. “Found one in Morrisville. It doesn’t open until nine, but we drive right through there.”
“Okay. We will drive to Morrisville and stop for a proper breakfast. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” Anita shifted around in her seat and stared out at the gray mountains, her stomach smoldering from coffee, hunger, and worry. Everything was almost too perfect.
Chapter Twenty-two
Preparations
Doug sat in his private office on his Virginia estate, in a building not in the direct sightline of his house. His family never interrupted him there, so his personal guests came and went without being observed.
He’d flown back from Boston earlier that day, after calling the deputy attorney general. The man called him back on his cell phone while he was reviewing this week’s financial reports.
“Hey,” Doug said. “Thanks for getting back to me so soon. Are you calling with news about Anita Forester?”
“Sure am,” the deputy attorney general said. “I’ll give you the highlights, but you should read the full report. Where can I send it?”
“Print it off and fax it, old school.” Doug prided himself on maintaining privacy by sidestepping certain technological advances. One way was by using a stand-alone fax on his own dedicated landline. He aspired to be the richest man on the planet untraceable on the internet.
“Here’s what we have on her.” The deputy attorney general gave Doug a rundown of her and Julian’s background, his arrest and release at the Capitol followed by his clandestine detention, the death of their son, and her disappearance when they tried to trace her.
“She used to own a technology consulting firm which did work for us and a few other agencies. I’m guessing she understands our abilities, which is worrisome. Three years ago, she sold it to a Swiss conglomerate, but her accounts don’t reflect assets from a large sale. However, her tax returns referenced a numbered account in Switzerland. We think that’s where she’s going.”
“Can you track the account?” Doug tapped the desk with his coffee spoon.
“We’d need a court order to demonstrate fraud on her part. We’d have to show clear evidence. The Swiss are sticklers about it. We won’t get one.”
“Where’s the husband?” Tap, tap, tap.
“His name was on the shutdown list. He’s an agitator. We’ve got him in a detention center in Coal Creek, West Virginia. One of those planned for evacuation to Guantanamo Bay. We also have his phone. Bunch of family pictures on it. Husband, wife, and the dead son, apparently. I’ll send the contents over to you.”
“Thanks. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s not going to Switzerland without the husband. I’ve got a private investigator I can send down to Coal Creek. Give him a couple of days to check it out. No point in your people getting involved and having to write up all those reports. Just keep an eye on the airports and borders.”
“We’re already on it. Her name’s on the list now, too, so someone may pick her up. Heads up on Coal Creek. It’s not the sort of place where it’s easy to blend in. They don’t trust outsiders. Tell your PI to bring a stash with him to bribe low-lifes. Money has a way of building trust, too.”
Doug grinned, dropped the spoon on his desk and clicked on his computer calendar. “Well, thank you for the advice. I will pass it along. I appreciate your immediate attention to this matter. Meanwhile, how does the twelfth of December look for busting out of Dodge and heading south?
