Authors: Nancy Adams
He had no idea what was along the back hallways. From what he gathered, they were only there for roving patrols. The rooms were closed off and there weren’t any doors making them accessible from this side of the building. He hoped that meant the hallway would be clear. It also meant that if he encountered someone else in the hallway, he had a high chance of being caught.
From what he gathered, Dave assumed the other two doors leading to the back of the warehouses would be dead bolted, or at the very least, locked.
After another deep breath, Dave started down the hall. He stuck to the shadows and used the dim lighting to his advantage. He had on dark slacks and a dark jacket. He hoped his choice of attire would help him blend in with the dark walls to someone looking down the hallway. It was possible that they would mistake his body for a shadow and keep moving on without a second thought.
He heard several voices, a low, continuous rumble that echoed throughout the building. The sounds mixed together and created a low hum that Dave’s ear were already becoming accustomed too. He tried to stay focused on sounds that would be outside the ordinary, closing and shutting doors, or footsteps headed in his direction.
He heard none of these though as he made his way along the back wall towards the staircase. Once there, he would have a better view of the warehouse as he ascended. As he climbed the steps, he held his breath and looked over the open tops of the makeshift rooms.
The warehouse was too big to make out much, but he could tell a collection of personnel was gathering near the front, wheeling in large lights and gathering in groups of two. He calculated having less time than he had originally anticipated.
The offices were expected to be on the top floor. The entire middle of the top floor was open, looking down at the floor of the warehouse. That meant birds could nest in their perches and keep a better eye on operations once the shipment came in and a normal routine was established for receiving and exiting delivery.
From the floorplan, he knew that there were four rooms total, with two offices on the top floor. Two rooms along the northwestern end and two offices along the northeastern end. He assumed the northwestern end was reserved for eagle nests.
There was a scaffolding type of walkway that connected the four rooms from one side of the warehouse to the other, the length of which ran along the main wall Dave had walked on the outside. On the top floor, there was hardly any cover, if at all.
There were small, chained boxes that housed the top of each set of stairs. This was perhaps the only cover Dave expected other than being inside the offices. The eagle nests were dark and empty, the doors completely open. At first glance, he saw that there was no one along the scaffolding bridge with him. With another glance, he checked the southwestern end he sat on.
Clear.
Dave held his breath and crouched. He had to move quickly, but steady and slow. Any sudden movement could draw an innocent glance from someone on the first floor and any flashlight would instantly reveal his presence.
He made it to the door of the first office and stayed just to the right of it with his back flat against the wall. His weapon was slick with sweat from his palms. Dave glanced above him, to the window that looked over the warehouse floor. The lights were off. Stretching an arm towards the door handle, he checked it, his upper torso crossing over the door. It wasn’t locked. He was crouched beneath a window, but it had blinds.
Dave checked the window above him with a single glance. The blinds were open. He pressed his back against the wall again and dared to take a peep into the room. It was empty. Completely bare.
Frowning, he shoved his back against the door again and took several deep breaths. He scanned the bottom floor with his eyes, seeing nothing but the tops of heads.
After another deep breath, he maintained his crouch and moved towards the next office. He kept his back pressed against the wall. It was dark like the other offices. It couldn’t be bare though. He knew it had to have information in it, a computer or log book, something—anything. He needed all the information he could get.
Dave checked the window first this time. The blinds were open. He saw a desk, a cabinet, and office furniture.
Jackpot.
Keeping his back against the wall, he finally reached for the silencer in his pocket. He screwed it into the barrel and breathed hard through his nostrils. The door looked like it had cheap doorknobs, but he could make out a keyhole. He didn’t anticipate it being locked. If it was, then he’d pick it if necessary, but he really hoped it wasn’t.
With his gun ready, Dave reached for the handle and checked. It was locked. He pressed his lips together and reached for his pocket, dropping a knee to the floor. He withdrew a stretched paperclip and stretched out his arms towards the door knob.
Dave worked with the paperclip, working the keyhole with precision movements. Something clicked and the door swung inwards into the room about an inch.
I’m in
.
Grabbing his gun with a firm grip, Dave left the paperclip on the ground and inched his body into the room. He stayed down, even after he pressed the door closed.
The office was set up the farthest from the staircase. That changed things a bit. He wouldn’t have sufficient warning—hell, being on the top flood wouldn’t yield him anytime or
anywhere
to hide if anyone was coming. That’s why he couldn’t be caught up there. He needed to get evidence and get out.
It would be difficult with the lights off. Turning on anything would let someone know something was up, especially if eyes were in the eagle nests on the opposite end of the warehouse. If no one was on the top floor with him, then he had a chance of the glow from the electronics not giving off too much of a signal. Right now, it was just something he was going to have to chance.
The room was significantly cooler than the rest of the warehouse. Dave eyed the vent that filtered cold air into the room. It helped to cool him down from the sweat that had gathered along his face.
He kept his eyes glued to the desktop and moved towards it, still crouched below the height of the window. As he came around the front of the desk, Dave began pulling out drawers. He saw folders, dates and times with records and files.
Dave worked his way through the drawers quickly. He knew how to commit enough items to memory for regurgitation later. The more information, the better. They could verify everything later by cornering and bribing the right types of people. His fingers itched at the thought of the laptop.
He wasn’t supposed to touch computer equipment. He wasn’t an intel specialist, but he had his own special set of skills that came in handy. He had a flash drive in his pocket that could download more information than he could get in the remaining five minutes of his stay.
A second later, Dave had unplugged the portable hardware and pulled it down from the desktop. He set it under the desk, a hollowed out piece of steel with a front that would hide him from anyone glancing into the office, but not from anyone entering the room to work at the desk.
He paused and listened to the sounds. His ears tickled with the gentle air pouring in from the air ducts. He heard the same low rumble he identified as background. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
Turning to the laptop again, Dave opened it. To his surprise, the device had only been sleeping. The screen lit up seconds later. There wasn’t even a lock to return to the main desktop. Frowning, Dave touched the built in mousepad.
There should have been some sort of personal lock after a while
, Dave grumbled to himself. He checked the time on the computer screen. 6:08.
With a scowl, Dave began searching through the hard drive files on the computer. It was labeled personal, but there wasn’t any more identifying information. With a sigh, he strained his ears to check against the sounds of the warehouse and pulled his flash drive from his back pocket.
He had to set his weapon down to do it, but once the flash drive was inserted, he began copying folders from a hidden backup folder he was able to find within seconds of sifting through files on the computer.
He couldn’t copy too much, he had less than five minutes. Once he selected the final files to be moved, he waited for the countdown timer. He had just under a minute before the file transfer would be complete. He breathed out with relief and then ran a hand along the back of his brow.
There was a shift in the sounds. It unnerved him within his core. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but something had changed. He closed his eyes and listened. Air had stopped pouring into the room; but he felt the change was more than that alone. Dave checked the computer again. The transfer was down to half a minute left.
30 seconds.
He sucked in air and moved back to the window, allowing himself a quick peep. He saw that floodlights had been erected, but they weren’t on yet. There were several roving groups moving along the hallways. They wore flashlights, a distinct signal for someone in the nests. Anyone moving at this point without the glowing light would stand out like a sore thumb. After another look, he checked the nests. Something about them had changed. He couldn’t tell what. The lights were still off, appearing empty.
He swore beneath his breath this time and moved back to the computer. The transfer was complete. Removing the flash drive, Dave held it in his hand for a second while he pulled a silicon top over the connection end. It wasn’t a normal shape, but a thin rectangle with just enough room for memory and copper to connect through a USB drive.
He wasn’t sure how much protection it would provide, but he needed to protect the drive at all costs. Dave froze for a second, and then put the drive into his mouth, forcing it to the back until he could swallow it completely.
Once down, he waited, dry heaving several times before the sensation to vomit had passed. Sweat beaded along his forehead. The air clicked back on and within seconds, he felt the cool breeze beginning to kiss his skin. He turned to lower the computer down, but froze, staring at one of the folders on the hard drive. He had to check the time, and he needed to check the sounds. His eyes darted to the corner of the computer screen. 6:12.
Without even thinking, he clicked on the computer folder. It contained a bunch of image files. As soon as they began to load, one by one, his mouth dropped, the breath stolen from his lungs. He saw images of Sarah, as if someone had been spying on her from a distance.
Dave checked another folder, he could tell it contained images from the preview, but it was labeled from several years before. He clicked on it and felt color draining from his face. He had once received a description of the mark, a man who had eluded being visibly detected for so many years, but as Dave devoured the pictures with his eyes, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was looking at a face and image of the man himself.
In the pictures, he had a young but seasoned face. They were official photos from the Marines Public Affairs Office. He saw the man’s ranking, a Major. Dave saw the medals.
The image that nearly stopped his heart was one of the mark and another man wearing Dress Blue Whites. In this picture, the mark was wearing a tuxedo and the Marine in uniform was standing beside a beautiful bride, Sarah Cole. They were surrounded by other individuals wearing matching clothes but it could not be mistaken that the mark was the best man in the wedding photo.
Dave didn’t need to keep staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away for the image. For a moment, his thoughts were scattered and he struggled to attempt to make sense of the pictures. In the next instant, he knew he had overstayed his window of opportunity. He needed to report back to command, but now a fear grew in his stomach and dread churned in his gut.
He didn’t bother with replacing the computer. Dave tightened his hand around his weapon and moved back to the door. It wasn’t until he reached for the door knob that he realized the low rumble of voices that had become the background rumble was no longer audible.
He had already twisted the knob when he realized the sound was missing. Had roving patrols made it to the top floor? That’s when he expected the birds to take their place in the nests. He tried to run through his options when a shadow darkened the door. There was no time to react; the door swung inward and hit his foot.
Dave pushed himself from the wall. He held his weapon with both hands, but no one appeared. Instead, he heard the release and clicking of electricity like a loud zapping rip through the air. He saw two darts shooting towards him, too fast to avoid. They connected to his body through his clothes and 50,000 volts coursed through his body. His legs gave way beneath him and he lost the ability of his arms and legs. The gun dropped to the floor beside his limp body.
Two men poured into the room. One to remove the darts and another to swat at Dave’s face with his own pistol. The hit took Dave’s consciousness away and the world faded from dim to black.
Involved and Unaware
Wednesday morning came quickly, rushing to the present like the startling revelation that a new day had begun and it was time to arise. Sarah didn’t have the normal fatigue she had grown used to within her, however. She smiled at the thought. Perhaps taking an extra day during the middle of the week had done her some good.
She rolled onto her back and grinned at the feeling of being wide awake and fatigue free. She wouldn’t even need coffee. She’d still make it, just in case the feeling was a temporary high lingering from a dream she suspected she had but couldn’t remember.
After a good and relaxing stretch, Sarah arose and checked her clock. She still had thirty minutes before the alarm went off. Perhaps this would be one of those days she’d get dressed before she watched the morning news at 7 am. The thought tickled her mind and she couldn’t help but chuckle at herself.
The last time she had woken up so early was when she was married and waiting for her husband to return from deployment. That thought stole her smile away, but just for a second. She remembered Bruce’s visit from the day before and found herself smiling again.
She stayed true to her word and was dressed and sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen before Ruth had managed to slug herself downstairs. Her hair was a loosely tangled mess of uneven ponytail.
“Have you taken a shower yet?” Sarah questioned, feeling unusually chipper. Ruth answered her with a sigh.
“I took one last night.”
“But your hair…” Sarah closed her mouth as Ruth looked at her directly.
“Wow, Mom. You look great,” Ruth blinked, and peered closely. “What time is it? Am I late?”
Sarah grinned and shook her head. “Nope. I just woke up early and decided to go ahead and get dressed. I can get started on your breakfast if you want.”
Ruth scratched her head leisurely. “I’ll take an egg and some toast, if you don’t mind. A little omelet? I love your omelets.” Sarah excitedly set her mug down on one of the many countertops of the kitchen.
“Anything for you, my sweet,” Sarah winked with exaggeration at her daughter, who giggled and smiled. The sight was enough to melt Sarah’s heart. She loved the sound of her daughter’s laughter.
“Would you like some coffee?” Sarah asked. She knew many frowned upon young kids drinking it, but she always let Ruth have the decaf in the house. It was worthless to Sarah anyway.
“Um, okay. I guess.”
“Yeah, come share a cup with me. We’ll pretend we’re at some cute café downtown Nashville.”
Ruth laughed, her body seeming to thaw as she entered the kitchen. Sarah noticed that she didn’t mention watching her favorite morning TV show, some Japanese anime that ran nonstop for the last few hours of the night on Cartoon Network.
“Do you want a squirt of vanilla or chocolate in it?” Sarah mused, preparing the Keurig machine.
“Mom, are you serious? Chocolate all the way. French roast too. Do we have one of those left?”
Sarah checked the cartridge carousel. “Nope. All out. How’s a dark roast instead?”
“That’ll do,” Ruth was grinning, and placed her clasped hands on the table surface.
Sarah prepared her daughter’s coffee and another glass for herself. Afterwards, she placed bread into the four slice toaster and turned it on before switching attention to the requested omelet.
Sarah had become quite an efficient morning cook over the years. Less than ten minutes later, the breakfast was made and she was setting the small plates on the dining table, two small omelets with chives and buttered toast.
Sarah joined her daughter at the table. She couldn’t remember the last breakfast they had together like this, just the two of them. The last time they had eaten breakfast at the table had been the Saturday morning before, when Dave had been with them. Ruth had smiled and grinned then, like something Sarah was sure she would only be able to see if Adam had been with them.
They were minutes into the meal when the doorbell rang. It was a slight annoyance for Sarah. Ruth watched her mother and shrugged.
“Who is it?”
“Heck if I know,” Sarah responded. She left the table and moved towards the door. Peering out the peephole didn’t reveal anything. Whoever it was had chosen to stand near the side of the door. Sarah wanted to growl. She didn’t get mornings like this often and it was getting interrupted. She didn’t like that at all.
Instead of ringing the doorbell again, there was a sharp rapping at the door. Something that commanded attention, something familiar. Sarah stiffened and opened the main door. She saw the familiar build of body first before the face.
“It’s Bruce,” she said, mostly to herself. From the kitchen, Ruth groaned.
“What’s he doing here?” The happiness was gone.
“I don’t know, hold on,” Sarah unlocked the storm door and pushed it open. Bruce grinned.
“Good morning,” he glanced over Sarah’s shoulder, peering past her into the kitchen where Ruth stood. “Hey, Ruth. How are you?”
Ruth didn’t answer. Sarah’s face was blank until Bruce revealed a bunch of wildflowers from behind his back. They were wrapped in plastic paper, and still a little damp, but beautiful with different blossoms and vibrant morning colors.
“These are wonderful,” Sarah said with a genuine smile. Bruce gave her a cheeky grin.
“To make up for bailing on you again.”
“You’ve got a habit of that, don’t you?” Sarah questioned. She didn’t see Bruce’s face and took a moment to smell the flowers. “These are great. I think I have a vase,” she paused, “oh my gosh, where are my manners? Come on, come in, come in.” She ushered Bruce in quickly and shut the doors. He stepped through with a deep intake of air, before he followed Sarah into the kitchen.
“Oh, looks like you were having breakfast,” Bruce commented easily.
“Yeah, you kind of interrupted us,” Ruth said with a flat voice.
Sarah glanced towards her daughter absently. “Ruth, sweetie, that’s rude,” she murmured. Ruth scowled.
“Would you mind if I joined you guys, Ruth?” Bruce asked her directly. Ruth lowered her fork and pushed herself from the table.
“Actually, why don’t you just eat the rest of my food? I think I’m full anyway. I’m missing my morning show so I was just finishing up.”
Sarah whirled around and watched Ruth calmly take her leave. She knew her daughter was lying. Her glow and the smile on her lips had vanished. Sarah watched Ruth slump down the steps to the den and felt like her heart was walking out the room.
Bruce watched Ruth silently. It wasn’t until the TV clicked on in the lower part of the house that he turned to Sarah and shrugged.
“Is she always like that?” He asked softly. Sarah stared at him blankly and just blinked. It was then that she realized his timing was always off. She frowned.
“Do you know what time it is?” Sarah asked, still holding the bunched flowers in her hand. She turned the faucet off and faced Bruce with a firm face.
Bruce only smiled. “It’s 7:11,” he replied cheerfully. “Just like old times, right? Do you have a bagel?”
“Bruce,” Sarah touched her forehead, frowning when she left water on her skin from her wet hands.
“Is something wrong?” Bruce joined her at the sink, taking the flowers from Sarah.
“Yeah. Now isn’t a good time. Can’t you call or something?” She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re in town but you can’t keep popping up like this.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said quickly. “I was just trying to surprise you,” he paused, “I thought these flowers might do the trick.” Bruce shook excess water off into the sink, and then wafted them in front of Sarah’s nose. “Don’t they smell great?” He grinned at her.
Sarah smiled. “They do smell great, actually,” she chuckled.
“Okay, so since I’m a big jerk for stopping by, I can leave…” Bruce waited to meet Sarah’s eyes, “if you want me to.”
“Bruce, come on,” Sarah shook her head and reached for a towel hanging from the rack attached to floor cabinets. “You’re not a
big
jerk,” Sarah chuckled.
“Just a little one?” Bruce asked, eyes gleaming with hunger. Sarah rolled her eyes. “Well, I bet your daughter thinks otherwise,” Bruce said with a chuckle.
Sarah frowned. “It’s not you,” she shook her head, “I’ve been having problems with her anyway,” she whispered.
“Oh,” Bruce lowered his voice and laid the flowers down on the countertop. “Maybe she needs a male influence in her life,” he whispered.
Sarah eyed Bruce carefully; he grinned devilishly back. “And just where am I supposed to get one of those?” She challenged, gaze unwavering.
Bruce smirked. “I’m a pretty good role model,” he answered confidently.
A chortle tumbled from Sarah’s throat. She looked down, and shook her head in disbelief. “Bruce, I’ve seen you all of two times in five years—” she looked up suddenly, “Have you ever even been around kids?”
“Sure I have,” he answered quickly. “I have a little sister, remember?”
Sarah’s face turned incredulous. “Really? The one that doesn’t speak to you? Kristine? Is that the one?”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t speak to me because she’s a spoiled brat,” he held Sarah’s gaze firm. “But I was always the go-to guy with her when I was younger. I just don’t bend to her every whim now so she’s hurt about that. I was her brother, not Mommy and Daddy. There’s a difference.”
“Just what are we talking about anyway?” Sarah said suddenly, the teasing tone sucked from her voice.
The smile never left Bruce’s lips. Instead, he faced Sarah and even took a step in her direction, entering her personal space again.
“Well…,” Bruce began, purposefully drawing out the word, “listen, Sarah,” he took a deep breath. “I may not have contacted you these past five years often, but I sure as hell haven’t forgotten about you.” He held her gaze firmly. “I’d like to be in your life if you’d let me,” his chest heaved with a breath. “If you want, we can talk about what that looks like, you know, what you’re comfortable with.”
Sarah frowned. “I’m going to be late,” she stuttered. She tore her eyes from Bruce’s face and glanced around the kitchen wildly. She desperately needed to know what time it was, if for anything to make an excuse to leave so she could be alone with her thoughts.
“It’s 7:18, Sarah,” Bruce answered. She still avoided his eyes.
“I need to—better get,” Sarah turned away. “Ruth?” She called. She heard the TV downstairs. She was nowhere near being late.
“Mom, what?” Ruth called with annoyance. “The show’s not even over yet,” she responded flatly.
“What time do you have leave to take her to school?” Bruce asked eagerly.
Sarah frowned and took a step back, trying to regain control of her personal space. “8:00,” she lied. There was no way they would get out that early and if she pushed for Ruth to shave off the 15 minutes needed to make that time, she knew her daughter probably wouldn’t speak to her for several days.
“Shouldn’t she be getting ready?” Bruce questioned.
Pinching her brow together, Sarah turned from Bruce. “Um, I think we’ll be alright if we get out by 8:15,” Sarah rubbed at her temple. She wasn’t sure what the problem was. They were old friends, she had always told him he was more than welcome in her home. She just didn’t expect him to arrive so suddenly…and persistently, insistently—or without at least calling.
“I don’t think today’s a good day for you to have stopped by,” Sarah finally said.
“Why not?” Bruce said. “I feel like such a douche for ditching you last week. I need to make it up to you.”
“Look,” Sarah straightened and reached for his arm. She patted him softly. “Thank you for coming yesterday and keeping me company. I really needed that but,” she sighed.
“Is it Ruth?” Bruce asked. “Because she doesn’t like me?”
“It’s not Ruth,” Sarah stressed. “And she doesn’t like anyone,” even as she said it, she felt like it was a lie. Ruth seemed pretty relaxed with Dave, but he was a non sequitur.
“Okay,” Bruce took a deep breath, his voice commanding control of the conversation. “How about you tell me what you want me to do, okay? I can leave and you can call me when you’re up to it—.”
“Bruce,” Sarah felt like she was whining. She didn’t understand how he could possibly be taking offense to her hesitation. “I love that you’ve come to Nashville to see me,” she tried again.
That much, she knew to be true. She just wasn’t so sure about everything else he was saying. If he wanted to be friends, she could handle that; but, if he was asking for something more, she didn’t honestly know where her heart stood.
Being around him made her stomach tighten and she didn’t know if that was a good or bad type of tightening. He was attractive—hell most US Marines were, but that didn’t mean they had to be anything more than what they always were.
“I only stopped by because I thought it’d be like old times, when we shared breakfast, you know. I thought I could even help you out if necessary.”
Sarah found it hard to argue with his logic. He rarely called beforehand back then either, but he stopped by so often that she had come to expect it. Seeing him at her door then wasn’t as surprising as seeing him at her door now. There was a difference, wasn’t there? Sarah sighed and ran a hand over her hair.