Chapter 22

What’s the time? Zero-fucking two? This had better be good ... What the fuck? Shit, gotta enable encryption.

“What the fuck, over?”

“Hello to you too, Watson. Feet on the deck, Marine. Call me back when you are fully conscious.”

What the fuck does the gunny need at zero-dark thirty? I’ll make some coffee. Wonder if Nyota still wakes everyone up at five? Damn, I miss my furbags.

Where’s the speaker cord? ... Encryption on. Shit, why no connection? Back into the other room ... Got it. This had better be important, gunny.

“Scott here. You awake, Watson?”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s up, guns?”

“Janice Marlborough is headed your way. She’ll be at Tuscon International on Southwest flight fourteen ten, landing at oh eight fifteen.”

“For what reason? Is she coming alone?”

“Supposedly, my assumption is, that her ‘cover’ is to visit a potential customer. She will bring you ten PCBs of your latest, fully stuffed and tested by yours truly. And yes, Marlborough will be alone.”

“Shit, that’s stupid. You could’ve sent the boards the normal way. How do we make contact?”

“Call her at the airport Hilton and make arrangements with her.”

“What’s the status of the Hacienda? I’ve noticed Bob has been over there a lot the past month or two.”

“No change. Like you said last month, they are only monitoring the three phone lines into the house.”

“What about your other ‘targets’?”

“Hat Industries has had contact only with Bob and Janice, if that is your reference. Suzy and Roger are another matter. Initially they seemed to have accepted Miss Marlborough’s explanations of the situation. But there have been in a series of discrete lunch-hour contacts, all off-site, with FBI personnel.”

“That’s too easy and too obvious, gunny. Way too easy. What do ya think the feebies are up to?”

“Bullshit, Watson. I know that you can look at active FBI investigations. You know about much as I do.”

“They seem to think that I’ve gone to Mexico and abandoned Janice and the company.”

“Correct. Also, your name has been removed from The List.”

“No shit?”

“That is a firm ‘no shit’, Watson. Now is the time to start long-range planning, But do not make any big moves just yet. Call me after you talk to Janice Marlborough. And you might want to find out if she still has not determined that you live in Phoenix.”

I’ll have to circle around one more time past the airport loading zone. Whoa, what lucky asshole is that woman waiting for? She’s obviously putting those hooters on display. That guy standing next to her is gonna trip over his tongue. I’ll have to circle around again. This shit is getting old. Where the fuck is Janice?

Cannot believe I let Carmen talk me into buying this Datsun 300Z. Too cramped. Torque is good. Gonna have to wind it up on the way back. Bad idea. I’ll try it out on that Wickenberg test track one of these days before I get rid of it ... There she is. Damn, the woman does not look happy. Now that’s what Bob would call a ‘severe’ business suit. Guess that’s her executive image ... She’s getting into a hotel shuttle ... Let’s see if any asshole will follow her ... Don’t see nada.

“The circuit boards are in that brief case, which also contains two hard drives from Mister Scott.”

“How’s the gunny doing?”

“You apparently talk to him on a weekly basis, unlike me. We have communicated only through your Marine friends for over six months. So you should know how Scott is doing”

Whoa, this is definitely one pissed woman. So much for that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ bullshit. Whatever.

“I wanted to know your perception of his condition.”

“He shows little emotion. His speech is terse. That is, you and your Marine friends are all quite the same ... I noted that you did not ask about me. Are you seeing someone else?”

“Nope. But I’m gonna guess that you found another dick. No problema. It is what it is. Learned long ago that ya can’t depend on anyone.”

Shit, I know that look ... it’s coming ... Damn, she almost connected with that one. Fuck this shit ... Need to push her away ... How fucking predictable, now come the tears.

“Give me a fuckin break, woman. You came here to justify going your own way, and that’s cool by me. I understand why, but I am not gonna be blamed for all of this crazy shit going on that’s outa my control ... Ya know, I bet it’s Bob. He’s a good man and has all of that character shit that I don’t have, or whatever it is. Like I said, it’s cool.”

“Mark, do you know how old I am? And think about your age...”

“Huh? What for? I dunno, we never did birthdays. I think you said you’re forty or something? Shit, I don’t even remember my age or birth date. I’m ... uh, what, thirty five?

“I know that you are thirty four, and will be thirty five on October sixth. Do you know anything about me?”

“Just what Dave told me. You grew up as a SoCal hippy. You have never said much about anything, so I never asked. What’s the point?”

“About how different we are.”

“No longer a problem. We’ve already established that I’m history. Anything else?”

“The house. The truck and the motorcycles. Your surf boards. Your airplane ... What should...”

“Talk to our lawyer. He’s already in the process of liquidating that shit. I only want my fur-bags. I’ll have someone take care of that in the next few weeks. If that’s it, I’m outa here. See ya.”

“Mark!”

“What?”

“Please stop and think about this in the future, and do not do this to another woman.”

“You’re full of shit, Janice. Remember what I said when we first hooked up, while you and Dave were still an item? I told you that I had learned my lesson about supposed loyalty and reliability in relationships. Looks like I was right. See ya.”

Damn, I’m gonna have to step up the schedule before that self-righteous bitch has a chance to fuck up my stuff back at the hacienda. First thing, I’ll get the gunny to collect the fur-bags and get the lawyer to transfer the truck and Suzuki titles to one ‘Mark P. Jackson’. And fuck Rog and Suzy - they betrayed me, and they can afford to find another place. I’ll have the lawyer evict them and sell the house. Then I’ll need to...

What the fuck, over! What’s with the radio static? Shit, that’s tracking beacon modulation. The bitch put a tracker on my ass!? I’ll pull over here...

Oh, fuck me. There it is. Sitting in the side pocket. Shit. Shit. Shit. Need to turn back south, head to the border. Yeah, I’ll get rid of it there. Why the fuck would Janice bug me? She just dumped me, so why? She going crazy?

“You are a mysterious man, Mark Jackson. Your understanding of physics and the maths is much more than what could have been learned at high school and a community college. Yet you tutor my sister and myself with an ease that would indicate a post-grad understanding. And you apparently know some very wealthy people.”

“Yeah right, said Carmen to the really mysterious guy mopping the floor. You say the weirdest things. What the fuck they teaching you kids in that big school?”

“You are evading, again, Mark.”

“Who’s the boss here? Get those chairs stacked on the tables. And where is your sister? She leave already?”

“Cynthia has an appointment with the department head this morning. She’s hoping that they will approve her request to test out of calc two.”

“The kid’s a flake, but a damn smart flake. I told her to that she was ready to test out.”

“Providence, Mark.”

“Say what?”

“Divine providence. God led you to us.”

Fuck me. Not another religion lecture. Odin or Thor, maybe it was Jupiter, must have sent me a dose of karma to punish me for going to the Dark Side ... Hmm ... That’s something that Lucas needs to explain in his next movie. Why is The Force, a physically measurable and repeatable phenom, attributed to the supernatural? And why is there is even a Jedi religion in a highly technologically advanced society? Maybe that’s the message, that our primitive little brains have not...

“Mark?”

“Give it a rest, Carmen. I don’t do religion. Get your butt in gear. I need to get the cleanup done so I can close it down. Gotta get outa here early today.”

“Got a hot date?”

“Yep, with a Ford F100.”

“A what?”

“A classic Ford truck in mint condition. Buying it from a guy in southern California. Supposed to arrive today.”

Fucking-A! Gonna give that lawyer a bazillion-dollar bonus. My gun safe, computers, boards and my bike all stuffed nicely in that shipping container. Beautiful packing job. Hope Janice didn’t give the old guy any crap.

“Hey, Mrs Lark ... How ya doin Brutus?”

“He always acts like a big baby around you, Mark. You need a dog of your own ... What’s all of this stuff?”

“Check out this F100. It’s a damn fine machine. What ya think? Got it from a guy in California. And bought this other stuff second hand at an auction. Got some really good deals.”

“Oh, dear. Do you ride motorcycles? They are so dangerous, Mark.”

“Nah, what’s really dangerous is the brain-dead drivers running around that don’t look past the hood of their car ... Excuse me, ma’am.”

“Need you to sign these, Mister Jackson.”

“Okay. You people did a damn good job. Here, divide this among yourself and your two boys.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.”

“My god, Mark. How much money did you give that man?”

“Enough to make it worth his time to do his best. It’s really tough trying to do things the right way these days. Those of us that have a few extra bucks should reward those that do a damn good job.”

“You are quite right, young man ... Did you know that Shawna MacWeary’s divorce has been finalized?”

“Uh, no.”

“I never see any women at your place. I thought that you may be interested.”

“You running the neighborhood intelligence agency, Mrs Lark?”

“What else does an old widow have to do, Mark? Which does remind me. Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah? Come clean, lady. Who’s the woman that you’re providing intro services for?”

“You are such a cynical young man. But you are quite true. It would be my brother’s youngest niece. She just graduated from Brandeis University.”

“I’m not interested in commies.”

“Brandeis is very social-minded.”

“I think that they are very marxist-minded. Does that school even award a real degree?”

“What is a ‘real’ degree?”

“Ya know, like a BS in engineering or something. Gotta go, ma’am, but thanks anyway for the invite.”

“I’m at forty hours, Jane. Gonna sign me off for the check ride?”

“Mark, when we started, you told me no questions, but promised that you were legit with no criminal ties. But I will have to ask you this one question because it could affect my professional status as a CFI. Was your license revoked and are you now reapplying under a different identity?”

Danger Will Robinson! Damn. Fuck. Shit. So much for the theory that tits are proportional to intelligence. Those small titties may be a singular exception.

“Tell ya what, ya come over to my taco shop and I’ll make ya chow and explain a few things. Just one thought for you Jane. Knowledge is dangerous.”

“Remember I asked ya about Jane Fillingame about two months ago? I need your results, like fucking now, guns.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, Marine. What is going on?”

“My CFI somehow guessed my situation. She got it dead right. I should have masked my pilot skills better.”

“I did not find any bad shit on her, mostly mundane stuff, so I did not bother saying anything.”

“Tell me now. She’s coming to Pete’s this evening for chow.”

“Geez, Watson. Making a move yet another woman?”

“Fuck you, guns. I’m gonna tell her a limited version of my mess. I just want to know if there is any reason to not say anything. If so, I’ll have to disappear again!”

“Okay, just fucking relax, Watson. Let me call up the file ... She grew up in the family crop-dusting business, raised as a christian, but seems to be areligious, knocked around the upper midwest, south Idaho, Colorado, north Texas, and now Arizona. Did mostly flight instruction and charter work. Was a member of the Young Republicans in college, and remains registered as a Republican. Annulled a three-week marriage at nineteen. Speaks Spanish and Portugeuse. Dumped her life savings to start her flying school, and seems to be making a liveable profit out of it. She has a mixed-breed dog and two cats. During the past two years, she has written two letters to her congressional rep, both about FAA policy. Her tone is that of a fiscal conservative and somewhat of a socially-minded liberal. There are, otherwise, no other known federal or local governmental connections in either law enforcement or the intel communities. Anything else?”

“Thanks, gunny. What should I do?”

“You’ve have been asking me that for most of two decades. You tell me.”

“Tell her the minimal shit required, put a watch daemon on the DOJ computers for her, then get ready to bug out. Only this time, I’m gonna take my shit with me.”

“Sounds like a plan to me ... Son, I want you to call me up tomorrow. We need to talk.”

“Doesn’t sound good, gunny.”

“It’s not. Nothing insurmountable. But now is not the time to discuss. Just focus on being your normal charming self tonight.”

“Fuck you, gunny.”

“Sorry, not interested. Bye.”

“Jane you’re a good egg. A damn good CFI. And you’re easy to be around. Remember when I said that knowledge is dangerous?”

“Yes?”

“This is dangerous to both you and to me. Wanna keep going?”

“What the heck. Worst thing you can say is that you are some Russian spy or something.”

“Nah, that would be too easy. I am, or was, a systems security engineer that worked on government and industry computer systems. One day I got sick, I guess it was exhaustion, or something related to it, and I collapsed. They, my employer, and at the behest of the Justice Department, put me in a hospital and kept me sedated for, I’m not sure, about nine to eleven days. While I was down, the feds took away all of my registrations, licenses, and certificates. They said that they were protecting a ‘national asset’.

“But you got free? Got another identity? How?”

“There were a few people that I trusted that had connections for this sort of stuff. I’m not gonna say say anything else ... How are the tacos?”

“Actually the food is pretty damn good. Where did you learn to cook? If that is also not a big secret.”

“Nah, learned from Pete, the guy that used to own this joint. His two daughters still work here.”

“That was those two girls leaving as I got here?”

“Yep. So how about it? Ya gonna be able to live with this, or do I need to move on to another instructor.”

“This is just so ... Orwellian ... So what certificates, ratings, and endorsements did your former personna have?”

“Commercial, instrument, tail-dragger, pressure. All SEL.”

“And your former person had an engineering degree?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. The more I think about it, the more I think that this is very scary stuff. Everybody knows that the federal government is always doing wild stuff, but this is too close to home.”

“Like I said, if it’s too much for you, let me know and I’ll move on to another instructor.”

“What about me? What is my risk now that I have bitten into a fruit from the forbidden tree?”

“Nada. I’ll be honest, though. My friends will be watching you for a while and let me know if ya narc my ass out to the feds.”

“You certainly have an interesting set of colloqialisms. I will guess that is also part of your former person’s background?”

“Jane, I warned you that you have all of the information you need. Nothing more. Answer the question.”

“Can I talk to my lawyer?”

“Not your smartest move. There is nada for attorney-client confidentiality when you talk about people on a federal watch-list. I’m gonna guess that they would have to report it. But I do have a lawyer that you can talk to.”

“Is he a fed?”

“Nope. Just a common every-day family affairs legal beagle that I’ve been using over the years.”

“I’m good, Mark. But if I ever see your face on a most-wanted poster, I’m calling the FBI.”

“Fair enough. Ya gonna sign me off for the check-ride?”

“For another fish taco, I’ll endorse your logbook.”

“I’ll make us some more. Wanna try my pork taco?”

“That sounds good. You are only open until two PM?”

“Yep, zero five to fourteen hundred; except Saturday and Sunday, it’s zero seven to thirteen hundred. Why, wanna job slinging tacos and cleaning toliets?”

“No, I certainly do not need another job ... Mark, your former person was military?”

“Nah, just knew a lot of soldiers growing up.”

Damn. Jane doesn’t miss shit. Gotta be careful. And I need to learn to lie a hellofa lot better. Shit. Damn. Fuck. I know that all-knowing smirk, she’s thinking I’m full of shit. Whatever.

“Yo, guns. What’s up?”

“I must say, Watson, you are learning the trade-craft. Your materal transfer method was clever.”

“Trade craft?”

“How to be a spook.”

“Nah, not all of it was my idea. My lawyer set up the fake auction. He even covered his ass with court order without having to declare me legally dead.”

“So when you gonna get my furbags?”

“About that, Mark. I’m sorry, bud. Your dog died last week.”

Shit! No! Just fuck no! Janice didn’t say shit. I’m gonna fuck up that...

“Watson!”

“Yeah?”

“Apparently he had a cancer. Marlborough had your dog euthenzed ... Mark? You okay, bud?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Get my cat now, gunny. Please, get her now.”

“I will attempt retrieval tomorrow night. Dundron and Marlborough are flying to Eureka today. Have the house access codes been re-set?”

“Negative, guns. There is a cat carrier in the garage. I should be on the south bulkhead. If Nyota gives you crap, make her some bacon; then she’ll love ya, no shit.”

“Anything I should know about the house?”

“My property and Sharon’s house have no fence or any seperation. They share a common back yard. If Roger and Suzy haven’t been thrown out yet, they may notice any lights in the house.”

“Not an issue. I will use NVGs. Any entrance suggestions?”

“Entrance? Probably best to use the side door into the garage. It’s the opposite side from my property. NVGs? Damn, guns. That’s real spookville shit.”

“That it is, Mark. I will call you later.”

“Congratulations on your second PPL, Mark. What’s next? Instrument?”

“Gonna need my complex endorsement and instrument rating ASAP.”

“Going somewhere, or I should not ask?”

“You should not ask. As for the IFR work, I’m gonna need some actual instruction hours with you. It’s been a long while since I did anything ... Uh do you have any turbine and pressure time?”

“Yes, about one hundred and fifty. That’s quite a jump up for you, Mark. Do you have any turbine hours?”

“High-perf SEL, but no turbine. For now, I’ll need you to check me out in a 182 or better, if possible, within the next two or three days. I need to take a quick one-day trip.”

“Get your flight bag. I can give you the next three hours on my schedule in a 182.”

“Gunny, I really owe ya. This means a lot. She give ya any trouble?”

“None at all. I put your cat-carry thing down and she walked right in. She did make a mess of my bathroom. Your brat unraveled a roll of toilet paper.”

“Sorry about that guns. Should’ve warned ya.”

“I have never seen a cat react like that.”

“React to what?”

“The way she jumped on you when you opened the carrier. That little ball of fur really likes you. She, obviously, does not know that you are an idiot.”

“She knows, gunny. She knows ... Let’s go home, Nyota.”

“Is your cat going to be okay in that small airplane?”

“She has a lot of hours flying with me. She likes it.”

“Interesting ... Watson, If you are certain that we are done with all of those fuckers in Orange County, I need to make an exit.”

“Now?”

“Not immediately. I was going to wait until you signed off on the latest PCB layout.”

“Thanks, guns. Are ya okay with staying for another week or two?”

“No problema, Watson. And are you okay to immediately fly back?”

“Midnight runs are my favorite, gunny. Both surfing and flying, midnight runs are tits.”

“Shut the door, Carmen, and stack the chairs. I’m gonna start with the restrooms. Cindy, quit reading that trash and stack the dishes. I’m gonna wash ‘em once I finish the restrooms. And don’t wear those fucking politicol shirts. This ain’t no civics platform. As a business, I don’t have to comply with the first amendment. Address your grievances at school or something.”