Chapter 41: Riding Out the Perfect Storm

Robert turned to look at me and saw the serious expression on my face. He could tell that I was sincere in my request. He pulled over to the curb and let me out at the next corner.

Robert said, “Good luck, Doc. I don’t know what you’ve got going on, but you get your 007 on and protect that family of yours,” as I was getting out of the SUV.

I climbed out of the SUV, turned to smile at him, and closed the door. It was a short walk down the steps to the Metro train platform. I cautiously made my way to the automated ticket machine to purchase a fare to Alexandria, then passed through the turnstile and onto the platform to wait for the train I needed.

I walked up the front steps to my house an hour after Robert dropped me off a couple of blocks from the White House. I let myself in using my key, and opened the door to total bedlam. The dogs were barking and running around, and the twins were screaming bloody murder, wanting to be fed and changed. Karen was rushing up the stairs as I opened the door, heading to the bedroom for another load. I didn’t see any sign of Andi or Grandma Jorgenson, so I assumed that they were getting their own things together.

I went over to the twins and picked them both up, trying to calm them down, but I wasn’t having much luck. I got Beast’s attention and had him heel, then did the same with the Dobermans. The dogs obeyed my next commands, going into a down-stay. Things quieted down and felt a little less chaotic. The twins just needed to cuddle and feel secure. I was sure their mother would’ve done the same if she hadn’t been busy.

Someone came rushing down the stairs; it was Andi carrying a suitcase and dragging the seabag behind her. One look at her face told me that she was stressed and nearing her wits’ end, then I heard Karen from the top of the steps. Looking up, I saw a frazzled Karen dragging a suitcase big enough to hold a month’s worth of my clothes. She came barreling down the stairs, the suitcase banging against each step on the way down. I placed the twins in their playpen so that I could greet my wife. The girls settled down with the calmer surroundings, and began playing with the toys in the playpen.

“You had us so worried, James. I was sure that you were being held prisoner somewhere and that we’d never see you again,” Karen exclaimed, rushing up to me, needing to be held. I opened my arms and wrapped them around her. I didn’t think that we had much time, so I held her for just a few seconds.

“I want to go upstairs and change so that we can leave, Karen,” I said. “I’m sure nothing will happen, but why take chances?”

“Did you get everything I asked you to, Andi?” I hopefully asked. “Grab it and your bag if so, and take it out to the carriage house so that I can load it into the Vanagon.”

“It was the first thing that I took care of when I got home,” Andi said.

“Good job. Go see if Grandma needs help,” I said. “I want to be on the road in thirty minutes.” She turned and headed to the back of the house, carrying her suitcase and dragging the seabag after her.

I started up the steps with Karen following close behind. She was nervous and had a lot of questions that she wanted me to answer. I had just begun taking my suit off when she launched into them.

“What have you gotten into, James? You tell me that it’s not safe for the twins and me to stay in our own home. I want you to tell me right now,” Karen said, starting in.

“I told you earlier that I would answer your questions once we got on the road, Karen. I don’t have time to do it right this minute. Every second you delay me from getting ready increases the chance of harm befalling our daughters,” I calmly said. “Now go downstairs if you have everything packed for yourself and the twins. Did you get a chance to pack a bag for me?”

“No, I was too busy packing a bag for myself and the girls,” Karen responded.

“Okay, I’ll quickly throw one together for myself. Have everyone start moving their things out to the Vanagon so that we can get on the road,” I calmly said to Karen.

Karen left the bedroom and quickly went down the stairs. I packed a small bag with four pairs of khakis, six polo shirts, half a dozen changes of underwear and socks, along with my shaving gear and toiletries. I could purchase anything else that I needed on the road.

Everything fit into the carry-on bag that I usually used when flying. My Walther, in its holster, went into the waistband of my slacks, and a spare magazine into my pocket. I looked around for anything else that we might need. Seeing nothing, I picked up my bag and walked to the stairs. The dogs patiently waited for me to release them from their down-stay at the bottom. They watched as I made my way down.

I released the dogs and gave the command to heel at my side. They followed me to the front entrance, where we kept their leashes. One by one, I fastened a leash to each dog and had them follow me out to the kitchen. Finding no one there, I continued out the back door with the dogs at my side. They patiently waited as I took a moment to lock the door behind us. Excitement in their posture grew as we made our way toward the carriage house.

I was pleasantly surprised to see everyone already in place in the Vanagon, patiently waiting for me. I placed my small bag behind the driver’s seat and had the dogs climb in. I started the engine and backed out of the carriage house while they tried to find a comfortable spot to lie down. I turned the van around in the driveway and headed to the locked gate beside the house. Karen and I got out to open it. I waited while Karen shut and locked the gate once I drove the Vanagon out onto the street. She quickly jumped back in, buckled herself in, I put the van in gear, and headed south away from Washington and out of Alexandria.

I chose to drive on US Route 1 instead of Interstate 95 to avoid traffic cameras that might help the authorities track us. I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for them to follow our movements. The route we took, US 1 South toward Fredericksburg, Virginia, lacked the monitoring equipment common along the interstates, making it harder for anyone to spot us. I stopped at a few local banks to exchange some of the hundred-dollar bills from the seabag into twenties once we reached Fredericksburg. That would make it easier to pay for fuel and help us to avoid using credit cards. We also stopped to fill the Vanagon’s tank. Karen and Andi went into a nearby sub shop to pick up a sandwich for each of us while I pumped the gas.

We stopped at a local park while in Fredericksburg to give the dogs a chance to stretch their legs and for us to eat our sandwiches. I also took the opportunity to stop at a farm supply store and buy a bag of dog food for our canines. We were fortunate to find that the store carried the brand that we fed our dogs. I picked up a large bag, along with three stainless steel bowls, and fed the dogs their evening ration. I called for a vote as we ate to see if the others wanted to stop for the night or keep driving through the night and get a room the following evening. It was unanimous that we continue driving, switching off every two hours. We decided that it would be best to head west from Fredericksburg, and get well into the next state before nightfall.

I had also picked up a road gazetteer inside the convenience store when I stopped to get gas. I consulted with the others and plotted out a route generally heading westward. I studied the maps to refine our exact route as we ate our sandwiches in the park. The plan was to drive through the night, which would get us to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in time for breakfast and an early morning run for the dogs near Great Smoky Mountains National Park. This area, filled with out-of-state cars, would make it even more difficult to trace our movements.

Our drive through the night went smoothly. We switched drivers every two hours, and we all got out to walk around and stay limber and awake each time we did. The route took us through the Appalachian Mountains where we encountered steep grades and sharp curves. We came close to the Interstate twice, where we stopped to purchase gasoline, stretch our legs, and let the dogs relieve themselves. It also gave the dogs a chance to explore new places and sniff around.

We pulled into Gatlinburg and parked the van along the main street after driving nearly twelve hours straight. We had a brief discussion and decided that Karen and Grandma would go up the street to buy breakfast for us. Andi and I would put the twins in their stroller, take the dogs across the street to relieve themselves, and give them a chance to exercise. We agreed to meet back at the van afterward and head to Great Smoky Mountain National Park where we’d find a quiet parking lot and grab a much-needed nap.

It was a short drive to the park, and a picnic area with only a few parked cars was just inside the entrance. We got out of the van and walked to the shelter house, away from where the others had parked. I studied the maps as I ate my breakfast sandwich of egg, cheese, and bacon on a decent biscuit, and devised a route that would keep us undetected for as long as possible. I proposed a route to the others that would keep us out of sight and lead us to a secure hideout after we had eaten and the dogs had gotten a good run to burn off some of the pent-up energy from being cooped up in the van all night. The others, intrigued by my idea, wanted to know more.

I suggested that we travel from Gatlinburg to Cairo, Illinois, and then head north along the Mississippi River to its headwaters. Andi immediately pointed out that this route passed through several large cities, including St. Louis and Minneapolis. I explained that we could bypass them by taking secondary state roads, then getting back on track further along. The beauty of this route was that, aside from those major cities, it would take us through mostly rural areas and small towns. It wasn’t a place where we would be under the watchful eyes of Federal Agents. They would be focusing more on airports and train stations, not some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. We could decide where to go next once we reached the headwaters.

We decided, after breakfast and some discussion about our next course of action, that a quick two-hour nap would help us all. Grandma volunteered to stay awake to watch the twins and the dogs, giving us a chance to rest. We didn’t get our full two hours, however. Grandma woke us up and suggested that we get moving and leave the park. A Park Ranger had passed through the parking lot twice and seemed to be keeping an eye on our van. She speculated that we had stayed longer than usual and that he was checking us out. I agreed with her assessment, so we quickly got everyone in the van and made our way to the park exit, which was a quarter of a mile away. I couldn’t help but think about the unusual conversation that we would have had if he had stopped us and began searching. He would have found two federal fugitives, over $200,000 in various currencies, and a slew of firearms, three of which were illegal as hell. It would’ve made his career if he’d come across that jackpot.

We made it out of the park without any further contact with local law enforcement and were safely on our way west and north toward Cairo, Illinois. I stopped at the next small town with a gas station and filled up the tank. Andi spotted a grocery store down the street and suggested that we buy food to prepare on the road, making us less of a target for local law enforcement. We all agreed with her suggestion, so I pulled into the parking lot and waited in the van while she, Karen, and Grandma went in to shop. I played peek-a-boo with my daughters, who giggled and imitated me by covering their eyes with their hands while they were inside. Beast watched our game but soon lost interest and laid down for a nap. The Dobermans joined him.

The women came out a few minutes later, pushing a grocery cart full of food, a cooler, and several smaller boxes. It didn’t take them long to unload the cart, and we headed west out of town.

We arrived in Cairo, Illinois, by early evening. The town had seen better days and was slowly fading. There were few businesses, and those that remained seemed to be on their last legs. I stopped at a convenience store with gas pumps and decided to fill up. I asked the attendant where a good place to stay for the night might be when I went inside to pay. I had my family with me and didn’t want to stay in a dump. The attendant thought for a moment and then suggested that Cape Girardeau, Missouri, would be our best option. I thanked him for the recommendation and asked Karen to plot a route to Cape Girardeau.

We pulled into town an hour later. We drove up the main street and found several motels. I went into a few to inquire if they had two connecting rooms and if they would be okay with our dogs. It wasn’t until the third motel that we found one that was agreeable. We went to our rooms, showered, and freshened up. I took the dogs for a walk around the motel grounds afterward, and saw the desk clerk out for a smoke break. I asked if there was a park nearby where I could take the dogs for a run. While there wasn’t a park, he suggested a housing development a few blocks away where I could let them run. I walked the dogs there and let them run freely for nearly an hour. I walked back to the motel with the exhausted dogs. Beast tried his best to get me to carry him, but it didn’t work, and he grumbled all the way back. The women prepared a bagged salad for supper, and I ate it when I got back. We all went to bed early since none of us had had a decent night’s rest since we left Alexandria. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The dogs woke me up early the next morning, needing to go outside. I got up, dressed without disturbing Karen, and took the dogs back to the housing development for another run. We didn’t stay long and were back at the motel before the women were awake. My return with the dogs woke everyone else.

Breakfast that morning was cold cereal, bagels with cream cheese, and coffee. I loaded our things into the Vanagon while everyone else was finishing breakfast and packing. We were back on the road, heading north along the Mississippi River, in less than an hour.

We turned east into Illinois on the outskirts of St. Louis, and then continued north, entirely bypassing St. Louis. We stopped in small towns to refuel and buy food items to replenish our supplies. The women made sure that we always had a good supply of fruit and fresh vegetables on hand.

We stopped briefly in towns like Hannibal, Missouri, and Nauvoo, Illinois, to take in the sights. We stayed at a small, independent motel in Davenport, Iowa, that could have been the perfect setting for a 1950s movie, that night. The place was outdated, but extremely clean.

The older couple who owned it doted on the twins as if they were their own grandchildren. The man, impressed by my dogs’ behavior, came over to admire them. Beast played the part of the ‘good puppy’ to earn the couple’s attention and affection, of course.

We were all up early the next morning and on the road before 7 AM. Breakfast was cold cereal and a bagel with cream cheese once again. We avoided the large city of St. Paul/Minneapolis, Minnesota, as before, and took a route east of the Twin Cities.

We ended the day at another independently owned, locally operated motel in St. Cloud. Our room arrangements were the same as the night before. The motel was located along the business route outside of town. I found a nice empty field nearby that gave the dogs plenty of space to run without bothering anyone.

We ate an early supper and went to bed with the chickens. This became our routine, and I liked it. There was less traffic on the roads, and we had more daylight hours to drive by.

We left St. Cloud just before 7 AM and arrived in the town of Baudette, Minnesota, by noon. Baudette was the border crossing where we thought about entering Canada. I stopped at a local gas station in town to fill up before crossing.

I handed the clerk a twenty when he rang up the sale. He thanked me, and I nodded and smiled in return. I got behind the wheel, and Andi spoke up as she said, “I think that going to Canada before we hear anything about what’s going on in Washington is a bad idea, James. We left in a hurry without a real plan, so we need access to news from the US media to see what, if any, publicity has been generated as a result of our activities. Let’s stay on this side of the border until we have news and develop a plan that isn’t day to day.” I realized that she was right. I had been so absorbed in making sure that the others had an opportunity to escape that I didn’t do anything except worry about my family, which now included Andi. No one else had kids and an elderly grandmother to deal with, so all my worrying was focused on our family.

I saw a sign that pointed to a route heading west out of town. I took it, and we pulled into Rugby, North Dakota, five hours later. We were getting close to Grandma Jorgenson’s old stomping grounds, and it was nearing evening. I was worried about pushing on into Minot and being spotted by a federal team possible being sent to find us.

Grandma Jorgenson came to the rescue just when things looked darkest.

“Pull into the parking lot of that grocery store up ahead on the right, James,” Grandma said. I did as she asked and parked the van.

“Now, you all stay in the van. I’ll be out shortly,” she told us.

We sat there in silence, completely baffled, with no idea what Grandma was up to.

A few minutes passed before an old farm truck pulled up next to us. An older couple got out, glanced over at us, then walked into the store.

Grandma came out a short while later, the older couple in tow. She approached the van and opened the side door.

“This is my family, Paul. That’s my granddaughter, Karen. You remember her from when she was little, the one who used to worry the chickens to death. The young man behind the wheel is her husband, James. He’s the smart one who I’m always bragging about. He taught college and then went to work for the President. He’s a true patriot, Paul.

These two young darlings are their twin daughters. That beautiful woman sitting back there is James’s coworker and my adopted granddaughter. She and James have more than proven their mettle in service to our country many times.

And those three mutts on the floor are our protectors. they’ve saved us, especially me, from bad men more than once. So, what do you think, Paul? Could you put us up for a while?”

I didn’t know what to say with an introduction like that. She made me sound like a superhero, or at least a movie star. The older couple exchanged a look, not saying a word. It was as if they communicated by mental telepathy. They must have reached some sort of silent agreement.

“Will you follow us, please, young man?” the man, Paul, as Grandma had called him, asked.

They climbed back into their pickup and drove out of the store’s parking lot. I started the Vanagon up and followed them. I didn’t have to follow Paul for long, just a couple of miles, before he turned into the driveway of a sprawling homestead and agribusiness complex. He drove up to the house, got out, and motioned for me to park beside his truck. I looked up to see a much younger version of my Viking Princess step out of the side door of the massive house just as I turned off the engine and set the emergency brake. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that Paul must be a relative of Karen’s, and this young girl was probably a cousin. I have to admit that the Jorgenson women were all lookers.

Karen and I followed our ‘cousin’ to a room in the front of the house, right above the front porch, after we got out and made the introductions. From the look of the furniture, I’d say that it was original to the house, it was that old. The pieces had the unmistakable look of family heirlooms, tenderly loved and cherished.

Our twin daughters hadn’t made it upstairs yet; they were being passed around by all the cousins and great-aunts who had gathered to dote on them.

I returned downstairs to join the rest of the extended family after taking our luggage up to our room. I stood around, trying to blend in, offering a smile to anyone who looked my way. I soon saw Paul motioning for me to follow him. We were sitting out on the front porch a few moments later. He was smoking a well-worn pipe, the cherry-scented tobacco filling the air. He hadn’t said a word to me since he motioned for me to follow him. He set his pipe down, looked at me, then seemed to wrestle with a serious question that he wanted to ask.

“Your wife’s grandmother tells me that you led a mission to Russia to gather some intelligence for our side a while back. She said that you nearly died on that mission because one of your team members was a traitor. Is that true?” Paul asked, his tone sincere.

He paused, then added, “She also tells me that you went after him on your own and tracked down and captured the traitor. Is that also true?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered without hesitation. “The answer to both your questions is yes. I currently have him locked up in a cage on a property my company owns. The CIA would have killed him to cover up some things they’d rather keep hidden if I turned him over to them.”

Paul leaned back, as if mulling over something serious. “You can stay as long as you need to, Cousin James. You’ve proven your worth to me,” he said, his tone full of respect. “I’ve got a situation here that could use your talents. We’ll talk about that later. Supper will be ready soon, but tell me about those wonder hounds that you brought with you for now. They very protective of your family?”

I went on to explain how we acquired Beast, and how we later discovered that he was a purebred Russian working dog, originally used by the Soviet Army to guard their nuclear stockpiles and the Siberian gulags. These dogs thrive in colder climates, and they’re known for being extremely intelligent and independent.

Then I told him how we got the two Dobermans, and how they completed the security setup we had.

I looked him dead in the eye and added, “Woe be the person who tries to hurt my wife, twin daughters, or Grandma. There wouldn’t be enough left to bury.” Paul then shared how Grandma was lucky to have Karen and me around. She had grown up in a cold, unloving family. Her marriage had been to a distant, unfeeling husband who sired children just as cold and unloving, Karen’s cousins parents, Olive and Sadie.

He told me that it wasn’t long after I’d moved into Grandma Jorgenson’s garage apartment that she’d started plotting to make me a part of the family. It must have worked, he said, because I eventually married Karen, and we started a family together.

The family wasn’t sure about me at first, though. They were all left wondering when word got around that I’d gotten cold feet and disappeared. Paul said that it nearly killed Grandma when I took off, but he added that I more than made up for it when I convinced her to become a permanent part of our household.

We had an extended family dinner that gave everyone a chance to meet us and get to know us better that evening. Most of my evening was spent listening to discussions about dairy herd management, milk subsidies, and how big business was ruining agribusiness. The conversation felt as dull as listening to a filibuster in Congress, but I did my best to be polite and act interested, even though I couldn’t quite muster much enthusiasm for the topic.

One of the aunts mentioned, at one point, that they had seen Karen and me in the Rose Garden when I was with the President. This sparked a flurry of questions; did I know the President personally, had I been to the White House before?

Karen quickly took over as my press secretary, at least with her relatives, anyway. Karen replied that I was on friendly terms with several cabinet members, members of Congress, and even a few members of the Soviet Embassy in Washington when someone asked if we knew any other famous people in DC.

She went on to mention that we had once hosted a Russian spy as a houseguest for a week, until they defected and went on to live somewhere else. Karen also told them that she and I had become serious friends with the Soviet Ambassador.

Several of Karen’s younger female cousins gave me that funny look that teen girls get when they’re hopelessly infatuated with an older man. I made a mental note to make sure that I was never alone around her young cousins.

It was getting late, and Karen joined me as I headed up to our room to get ready for an early morning, wanting to avoid being seen as a city slicker. A thought popped into my head as we lay there.

“Did you know that your grandmother plotted to get me into your family the first time she met me, Karen?” I asked.

There was a moment of silence, and then I heard a giggle from her side of the bed. It quickly escalated into hysterical laughter.

“You’re just figuring that out now?” Karen said with a hint of amusement. “Grandma fell in love with you the day that you came to apply for the apartment. You’re the son, no, the grandson, who she never had, and you fit that role to a T in her book.” She paused, then added, “And I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at the airport since Grandma and I are so alike in personality. The same goes for Olive and Randy. Grandma fell in love with him the moment they met. You two are some of the good guys.”

I drifted off to sleep with Karen snuggled close to my side.

I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon frying and freshly baked biscuits. There was no wasting time, I jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was only 5:30 AM. I wasn’t about to be the last one to the table and miss out on a country-style breakfast.

Karen mumbled something while I got dressed, rolled over, and went back to sleep. I wasn’t the first one down by the time I made it to the breakfast table, in fact, I was one of the last. I noticed that Cousin Paul was nearly finished with his breakfast and ready to start his day.

“Morning, James. Did you sleep well? I imagine that this is a lot earlier than you’re used to getting up,” Paul said. “Want to tag along with me today and see what a farmer’s life is like?”

“That sounds good to me. Can I finish my plate first?” I responded.

“Hurry up!” Paul laughed, “Time waits for no one.”

I quickly wolfed down a healthy pile of bacon and eggs, polished off a couple of biscuits, and stood to follow Paul. I rushed back to the table on second thought, grabbed a couple of biscuits, split them, and added some bacon shards. That would be my mid-morning snack. I unfortunately had devoured them before we even made it to the truck.

We drove around the farm most of the morning, checking on the various enterprises that Paul’s family owned and operated. I was surprised by the sheer number of operations Paul managed. He could easily slip into the role of CEO of a large conglomerate. The only difference I could see was that Paul wore wide-legged jeans, boots, and had a farmer’s tan, rather than a tailored suit. I was genuinely impressed by his business savvy.

Paul announced just before lunch that we were heading into town to grab a bite at the diner and then visit the banker. The way that Paul said ‘banker’ made it sound like he was using a swear word. I took it to mean that he placed bankers in the same category as used car salesmen and lawyers. Farm life was much different than I had imagined. It wasn’t just about crops and cattle; it was business, pure and simple.

Paul stopped in front of a small diner when we arrived in Rugby, the nearest town to his farm, and parked on the street, rather than using the already crowded lot. We got out and headed inside, where a group of farmers, who I assumed were neighbors and friends of Paul’s, greeted us.

As Paul introduced me to the group as ‘Cousin James, married to Cousin Karen’, he casually mentioned that I was some sort of big shot working directly for the President back in Washington. That instantly earned me celebrity status with this crowd, much to my amusement and dismay. We eventually worked the crowd like politicians and made our way to the only empty booth in the place. A server came over, and Paul ordered two of the specials for us. I looked around the diner while we waited, noting that it wasn’t much different from other small-town spots I had visited before.

The server returned with two platters each piled high with a double cheeseburger stacked with lettuce, tomato, and what looked like Thousand Island dressing, a few minutes later. The platters also came with generous servings of coleslaw and a mix of French fries and onion rings. Our drinks were iced tea served in sweating glasses filled to the brim with ice.

There was no way that I was going to finish all that, so I waited to see how Paul tackled his sandwich. I figured that mystery sauce would be everywhere if he tried to eat it like a regular sandwich. I looked over at him and saw that he was using a fork and knife to cut the sandwich up and eat it in forkfuls. I followed his example and realized that, while this meal wasn’t quite like one of Grandma Jorgenson’s or the gourmet dishes that I’d had at the White House, it wasn’t bad.