Chapter 26: Funky Ringtones

George Johnson was sitting in his favorite chair and nursing a refreshing beer. It didn’t matter that it was his fifth one in the last couple hours. At the moment, he was having too much fun reminiscing with a friend from work, “Hey, Julio, you remember when your cousin had finished off the bottle of José Cuervo and decided to teach everyone how to lambada.”

“Si! Si! I remember. He was going pretty good there until he passed out right in the middle of the patio, pulling his girlfriend down with him. Almost ripped her dress completely off her body in the process!” Julio made a quick glance toward the patio door and saw his wife was still in the kitchen. “I don’t think anyone would have minded that, am I right?”

“Oh, hell no! I know I wouldn’t have minded. She was built for fun -- that’s the truth. God, that was a great party. So, what, you gonna set up another party?”

“No, my friend. I wish that was the reason I called.” Julio took in a deep breath and began his story. “Last night I was finishing my duties over in the new CID-SI headquarters. Just taking out the garbage and vacuuming, and I heard the colonel and his sergeant talking about the guest.”

“Hold on, Julio. This is not a secure line. We have to talk in person. How about I come over, and you can tell me in person?”

“Well, I don’t want to put you in an imposition, George.”

“No problem, my friend. In fact, is Maria cooking tonight?”

“Of course, she is.”

“Well, there you go. I’m coming for dinner. I’ve got the night off, anyway.”

“Okay, George, but that is one of the reasons I’m calling. Why not make it an early dinner? It is very important I talk to you.”

“Okay, I’ll be there around four-thirty, and I’ll bring over a sixer of beer.”

“I’ll see you then, my friend. I’ll see you then.”

George sat in his chair and stared at the TV he had muted when the Caller ID showed who was calling – another commercial for some dumb-ass politician.

The fear in his friend’s voice was easy to detect. Julio Martinez has been working in the lab as the janitor since it was originally built. When the new CID-SI headquarters was remodeled from the old library, the responsibility for janitorial and sanitation was given to Julio, but it was another military office and rarely dirtied. The additional work for Julio was not that difficult just a little more time-consuming.

George was a little worried about whatever Julio wanted to discuss. Then his guilt-ridden mind began playing “what if” games. What if Julio knew about George’s helping in the escape? What if Julio knew the docs were also involved? What if Julio had information about the whereabouts of the escapee? No! George needed to get his mind out of that game and just let whatever happens happen.

“Oh, Maria, when are you going to dump that zero and come be with a hero?” George bellowed as he entered the house and gave his friend’s wife a kiss on the cheek.

The Martinez residence was a modest three-bedroom, two-bath home in the same neighborhood where George lived, but their homes were separated by several blocks and several financial levels. Julio’s home was at the end of a road that pushed into the green way of Salado Creek. Most of the homes on either street came off the greenway and merged onto separate roads. Julio’s home sat right in between two streets and had a long driveway that could nearly be called a city road. If you did not know the road was there, you could easily drive right by it. Because of the strange way the house was built on a chunk of unincorporated land between two streets, it also had a huge back yard. Most homes in the neighborhood, including George’s, were on roughly one-acre plots, house and yard included. Julio’s home featured a three-acre plot, and that was just the backyard.

“Yes, please, Maria! Go with him and get him outta my hair! The man has no prospects at ever getting himself a woman and could probably use your help in that department,” was the reply from the kitchen. Maria Martinez was a short, slightly overweight woman who loved her life being a good wife to a loving man and raising their two children – a true poster for the American dream with a wonderfully brown-skinned twinge.

“Come in and give me a hug, you sexy beast,” Maria replied to George, grabbing him and doing just that.

After their embrace, George handed Maria a six-pack of beer.

Maria smiled, looking into the bag at its contents. “Oh, good, my favorite brand. Maybe if you are lucky, I know of a couple of studs who might get even luckier.” She had a devilish smile. There was no chance of anything like that. Playful banter between good friends was all it was.

Julio made his appearance through the kitchen doorway, immediately shook his friend’s hand, and offered another welcoming hug. “Hello, my friend. Hello.”

“Aye, Julio!” Maria exclaimed. “I told you to stay out of that pot until the food was ready. I made enough for everyone, even for your big butt,” the playful bantering continued.

“What? I didn’t do nothing! How can you believe I would ever mess with your cooking before it is finished, Mama? I would never do such a thing!”

Maria switched the bag of beer to her left hand and reached up to her husband’s face. She gently turned his head to his right. A globule of red sauce was making its way down onto his chin. She collected the errant drop of sauce from his chin with an over-exaggerated slurp then just walked around him into the kitchen.

“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, my love.”

She was smiling and so was George at the sappy banter only people really in love could tolerate. Julio sheepishly wiped his mouth and chin then dried his hand on his jeans.

“Come outside, my friend. I need to talk to you about something.” George noticed the change in his demeanor and quickly followed him out the back door.

“What’s up? You sounded strange when you called.”

“Oh, sorry about that.”

They both sat around a wrought iron table in the middle of the back porch. The porch itself was covered by a metal roof with a visible bend in the metal from a very rare in San Antonio snow storm accumulating just over a foot. The left and rear sides of the patio were the outside walls of the house while the right and front sides of the patio were flanked by large rose bushes. When in bloom, the smell on the back patio was incredible.

“Well, I was vacuuming the upstairs in the new CID-SI headquarters, in the old library.”

George nodded for his friend to continue, “Well, the colonel and his sergeant were discussing the recent location of their guest, and their team’s inability to recapture him.” Julio knew not to even say a prisoner escape just in case someone was watching. Paranoid? Yes, but being careful never hurt anyone.

“Yeah, from what I heard they were still looking.” George and Julio both edged closer to each other and whispering. Again, paranoia can be a good thing.

“Well, George, I heard they are setting everything up to blame you and the other guards for losing him in the first place. They are putting you in front of the bus and getting ready to drive it right over your ass.”

George sat back and put his hand over his mouth then ran it down his chin as if stroking a non-existent beard. He did this a couple of times apparently deep in thought. Julio just sipped on his beer and waited for his friend to think about what to do next.

“Julio, what did you hear? Tell me as close to exactly as you can remember.”

“The sergeant was very happy he had you convinced not to come in to work tomorrow. He said if the investigators reviewed your accounts of what happened and you weren’t there to be briefed personally...”

“It wouldn’t look too good for me or the other guards,” George interrupted. “Okay, what else?”

“The colonel was worried about you, already figuring out they would be trying to tighten the noose around your neck. The sergeant asked if he should contact you and give you and your men an extra day off – even more than what you already have. He probably thought you would jump at the chance for a long weekend.”

“Okay.” George was still concentrating on his response to what the CID-SI was trying to do to him and his men. “What else?”

“The colonel figured you were probably already suspicious about being given the time off since you have not talked to anyone officially, yet, only having done your official reports. He told the sergeant that you were not an airhead like everyone else at the base.”

George snorted through his hand while still miming brushing a non-existent goatee. The sliding door to the house opened. “Okay, you two, dinner is ready. Come and get it before it’s all gone,” Maria smiled to the pair.

Julio smiled back, “Thank you, my love. We’ll be there in a minute.”

When the door slid closed again, Julio turned his attention back to George. “What are you going to do, George? You need to make sure you are there tomorrow so, when the investigators come in, you can give your side of the story, right?”

“Oh, definitely. Definitely ... but I think the guys deserve the time off. I’ll be in tomorrow for sure. I might as well make sure the colonel’s faith in me is deserved.”

Julio sat back in his seat laughing heavily, and George soon joined in the frivolity. Both men picked up their now-empty beer bottles and followed their noses toward the fantastic-smelling dinner.

George drove home after an enjoyable evening of laughter, great food, and even greater friends. In the back of his mind, though, he now had confirmation of what was happening at work. He now knew Col. Price and Sgt. Thomas were actively angling to pin the escape on him and his people. George knew he needed to make sure his people were not made scapegoats by men whom he could barely convince himself were human. He also felt this would be a perfect opportunity to further sway any prying eyes into his culpability of allowing the man to go free. His feelings on helping the man had never wavered. In fact, his resolve had toughened.

He had just pulled into his driveway and was picking up the extra plates of food Maria had prepared for him to eat during the week. He secretly knew he would probably polish off the two plates the next day.

The phone in his pocket started vibrating. He put the plates back down on the passenger seat and pulled out his phone to see a text from Dr. Jensen. It read “Call me back when U can. BP.” The “BP” meant to use the burner phone, so George knew the younger of the two scientists present when Tim appeared in the embarkation room wanted to discuss something privately.

He again picked up the plates of food and quickly made his way back into his house. A quick check of the house phone showed two calls came in while he was out. He turned on the speakerphone and listened to the two messages while putting away the food.

The first message was Dr. Jensen asking where he was, and requesting a call back as soon as possible, but he did not use the coding for a secret call back. The second message was about ten minutes later, and Dr. Jensen asked him to call again. This time, however, he used one of the codes for a burner phone return call.

George grabbed a glass and filled it with coke and added ice from the freezer. He walked to his home office, grabbed his latest burner phone, and made his way into the garage. There, he approached the small table where they sat when they discussed the plans for helping Tim escape from the lab.

“Damn, George, where the fuck were you? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for like an hour,” Mike Jensen was nearly apoplectic on his side of the phone. George could imagine the young man running his hands through his thinning hair causing, more pressure on his already receding hairline. The thought made him smile.

“I was having dinner with Julio, the janitor at the lab. He had some info for me. But what’s got your panties in a twist, Mike?”

“I was just wondering what in the hell is going on, man. I heard he killed a couple of your guards, and put you in the hospital while trying to get away. I heard you were having emergency surgery!”

George was openly laughing but, in between his chuckles, he was able to calm Dr. Jensen down. “No, man! Nobody got seriously injured – except for one of my guys who got his jaw screwed up and will be eating through a straw for a while.”

“Whew. Man, I was freaking out because of the rumors flying around that place. Fuck! It’s worse than high school!” Now both men were laughing.

“So, was that it? Was that why you called?”

“Well, that wasn’t the only reason. I was just wondering if you had heard anything else.”

“Everything is a ‘go,’ as expected. Only thing I didn’t know about was how he was able to get out from under our control. I think he could have tried to escape at any time but, once we had some plans behind the scenes for him, he probably just decided to go as quickly as possible.”

“So ... um ... what do we do now, man,” Dr. Jensen asked as George took a drink.

“Now is the hard part. We wait ... until he gets in contact with us. Then we can figure out what to do next. We set up options for him. All he has to do is pick one, and we can work from there. As a matter of fact, make sure Thompson is also keeping an eye out on his end for any contact.”

“Can and will do. I’m glad you ain’t dead. It would really fuck up our dinners at Yolanda’s.”

The last thing George heard was the giggling falling off in the distance as the call was ended. George smiled as well. With nothing to do until it was time to go back to the office, George took his glass of soda and returned to his favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. As he turned on the TV, he hoped for something to entertain him until it was time to go to bed.

George found he had some pep in his step while going through his morning ritual for getting ready to go to work. He didn’t know why he was feeling good, but maybe it was because he was going to be messing with someone’s corrupt plans today. The colonel and his pitbull of a sergeant were going to try to throw George and his guards under the bus, -- the bus being driven by the full weight of the upper echelon of the secret services of the U. S. Government. While rinsing off in the shower, he could just imagine the colonel trying to change the official story to show the lab’s security was sub-par, and the staff deserved to be fired and possibly put in prison themselves for screwing up the job so badly. They lost the most important prisoner in American history!

But George was going to be there, up front and ready, to answer any questions the investigative panel could think up. The faces of the CID-SI were going to be red with anger. George was almost having fun thinking about what he would say, but he quickly realized he needed to be under control. What brought him back down to earth was the reflection in the mirror of the nice shiner on his left eye that had formed since the escape and had grown to cover a good portion of the left side of his face.

“Well,” he said out loud to himself, “at least they can see the evidence of me trying to stop him!”

The line of black Chevy Suburbans waited outside the hangers where several government private jets were landing with several high-ranking officers and their support staff entourages. All the branches of the military were represented. The Suburbans soon made their way out of Randolph Air Force Base, south on I-35 toward Ft. Sam Houston. The trip was made much simpler with the help of San Antonio’s finest, driving in front of the motorcade, clearing the slower traffic out of the path.

The majority of the SUVs in the motorcade turned into Brooke Army Medical Center for the festivities of the opening of the new Center for the Intrepid, a rehabilitation facility for military personnel, helping amputees and burn victims reintegrate into society. The center had been operating for a few months already, but today would be the official opening ceremonies.