Chapter 34: Connections Old and New

The walk up the small lane towards the gated complex was one of the longest in Tamara’s life. She’d managed to avoid crying when she said her last goodbye to Hannigan, the man left a mile away where he could keep an eye on Tamara and Erol as they made their way towards where a high fence and heavy metal gate concealed what the man had assured them was the M1 compound.

It was all Tamara could do not to turn and run back towards Hannigan. She couldn’t believe he was gone from her life. He’d become so integral to maintaining her emotions that his absence left her without a rudder. It wasn’t so much that she doubted herself as it was how deeply he’d become part of her existence. Despite Erol’s presence, she felt totally alone.

They stopped in front of the gate, uncertain what to do. “Do we just knock?” asked Erol.

“Hannigan said someone would call to us, but we would have to wait. They’re likely scanning our faces and running checks on us right now.” Tamara’s voice was tight and low, unable to keep it from trembling.

Moments passed before a woman’s amplified voice rose above the light breeze. “Wait where you are. An escort is coming out.”

Tamara’s brows lowered. “Odd. Hannigan said they would keep us outside while they interrogated us for our intents.”

“Maybe they know who you are?” Tamara had filled Erol in on much of her story, why she was running, how she had lost Gene and her children in the flight. She hoped they hadn’t made a terrible mistake by coming to Saray.

The gate opened a few feet and eight men in nondescript dark green uniforms strode out, all business. They surrounded the duo, two in front, one on each side, two more behind, and the others fanning out further down the lane, scanning to their rear. The two in front roughly patted them down, taking their weapons and bags, then returned to stand ahead of them.

“Move quickly,” one of them barked. Tamara and Erol shuffled through the gate and heard it close behind them with a heavy clang.

Inside the compound, the buildings were as nondescript as the uniforms. Few others could be seen moving around what was four or five large, beige, one-story structures, small windows covered inside each by dark curtains. They were directed into the closest one and all but pushed into seats in a bland room. Four of the men stayed inside the room with them, standing quietly.

More moments passed. Tamara grew agitated, unsettled. “What is going on?”

“Wait, Mrs. Polanski. You will be attended shortly.”

She waited at least twenty minutes before almost shouting, “can we at least get some water?”

One of the men moved through a narrow door to the rear of the room, returning moments later with two bottles of water, handing one each to Erol and Tamara. She unscrewed the cap and sipped the lukewarm contents.

She heard steps outside seconds before the main door opened. Two women and a man entered, each of them in the same dark green clothing seen on the guards. A tall white woman stepped forward, her eyes covered by sunglasses. Coppery hair was just visible where it was tucked under her beret. “Follow me, Mrs. Polanski.”

She stood and stepped forward, heard another woman’s voice behind her say, “not you. Sit down.”

Tamara spun, said quickly, “he’s with me!”

“We’ll get to him shortly,” the tall woman said curtly. “Follow us, Mrs. Polanksi.”

“I won’t leave him!”

The woman let out a short breath. “He won’t be hurt. He will wait here. Please. Come with me.”

Tamara resigned herself to their separation, cast Erol an apologetic look, saw the trepidation in his eyes, and immediately felt horrible that they’d asked the teen to come with them.

She was shuffled down a narrow hallway past several unmarked doors and into a small room with one light on the ceiling. Inside, there were four chairs and a small table. She was directed to sit in one along the far wall. Tamara sat quietly as the tall woman stood in front of her.

“I am Major Danielson. I’m commanding officer of this location. We’ve been looking for you for some time, Mrs. Polanski.”

“I ... I’ve had a hard journey...”

The woman sat down opposite her across the table. “I expect you have.” Danielson stared at Tamara a moment. “You were with a man. Where is he now?”

“Erol? He’s still where you left him.” She cast her arm towards the general direction of the front of the building.

“No. Marcus Hannigan. We know you were in his company for some days. Where is he now?”

Hannigan had drilled into her that they would interrogate her about him if they knew anything about their travels. She did her best to show no sign of her dishonesty. “He ... died ... in Istanbul.”

“Dead.”

The tears forming her eyes were all too honest. “Yes ... we were caught in the bombing. A building collapsed where we’d taken shelter ... he ... he was ... killed...” She let the emotion come through, hoping her genuine sadness covered her thinly-veiled lie.

Danielson stared at her a moment. “Hmm.”

Tamara said nothing else, attempting to slow her tears, feeling all to well the loss of the man, even if she knew he was not actually dead.

“Tell me what happened from the time you got away from the Victor’s mansion.”

Tamara debated lying about her experiences, uncertain whether she could trust the woman with the truth. She had little else left in her emotionally, and the real story, as best she could remember it, poured out.

Danielson was emotionless, taking no notes, making no comments. She let Tamara finish, then leaned back, nodding once quickly. “I believe you, Mrs. Polanski. Wait here.”

She stood and slipped from the room, Tamara feeling very tired and lonely in the pale, featureless room.

“Kids, I need you to keep calm. We’re being followed. I’m going to wind through a series of quick turns and see if I can flush them out. Not certain who it is, but I don’t like that someone followed our tracks.” Henderson’s voice was pleasant and calm, belaying the implicit danger in their current situation. “Try to keep your heads down.”

Logan didn’t like the sound of the man’s words, his eyes casting back towards the road behind them, seeing no other vehicles anywhere. He wondered how Henderson knew they were followed.

The van veered sharply right and down a dirt lane, the drizzling rain keeping the dust from doing more than wetly splashing in their tracks. Another quick turn to the left, then another. Henderson drove the van hard for several long minutes, and Logan alternative being thrilled and terrified.

Henderson called back loudly, “I’m going to stop in just a moment. I need everyone to stay in the van. I don’t know what comes next. If I tell you to run, you run, ok? If I tell you to drive, Juliana gets you out of here. Ok ... here we go!”

The van slammed to a halt, sending Logan forward against his seatbelt, Lauren’s hand grabbing his shoulder to catch her own balance. Henderson jumped out, leaving the van running. Logan saw Juliana glance back at them, an attempt at a soothing smile on her face. Logan could see it was a facade.

The preteen looked back to see Henderson running quickly back up the road to where it made a T-intersection with another. The man sprinted down towards the right and out of sight.

Lauren’s voice showed her fear. “What’s going on?”

Juliana said quietly, “not sure, Sweetheart. Just stay in the van...”

Logan’s heart pounded so hard he thought it was making him jumpy. He held his hand in front of his face, watching it twitch as his breath came in short draws.

The minutes crept on, more time passed by. The rain intensified.

Logan saw a car turn down towards them. “Someone’s coming!” Juliana slid into the driver’s seat, throwing the van into drive and hitting the accelerator.

A large hand slid out of the car’s passenger-side window, a hand that could have only belonged to Henderson. “Wait!” Logan cried. “It’s Mr. Henderson!”

Juliana took the van out of drive and quickly turned back to see. The car stopped quickly, and Henderson jumped out. He rushed up to the driver’s side. Juliana lowered the window.

“Sorry, Darling. This damn comm stopped working for some reason. I tried to reach you. All is well! You’ll never guess who has joined us!”

Logan watched as someone slid out of the car and approached the sliding door on the van. It opened quickly and the person flipped back the hood from their face.

Logan couldn’t believe his eyes. “Panthea?!”

Gene waited with Holly while Marisa gassed the car and Bendal and Silver went to try to get a better signal for the tablet on a rooftop. So far, Silver had had no luck finding anything useful in his analytics, and the Gene was beginning to wonder if it was just one big dead end.

Holly had withdrawn completely. It was incredibly unusual to Gene. He’d only once or twice seen her so much as vulnerable, but the pretty blonde had become a silent shell the closer they got to La Bresse. Gene tried to talk to her quietly but he got no reaction. He held her against him and tried not to think about facing whatever was to come without Holly being functional.

Silver and Bendal returned moments later, the rain becoming heavier. “No luck. Still processing locally, but the software can only queue up searches and spit them through sporadically right now. Sats are fuzzed, not sure why.”

“Cloud cover?” Gene offered.

Silver shook his head. “No chance. This gear would get signal through a half-mile of steel. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Barely getting any net as it is, and what I do get is weak and intermittent.”

“Keep trying,” was all the encouragement Gene could muster.

Marisa got in and had them moving again quickly.

Gene leaned forward. “So we’re almost to La Bresse. What do we do once we get there?”

“See what we see,” Marisa responded. “We don’t know who or what we’re after, no idea what might tell us where to go next.” The woman nodded back in Holly’s direction. “Hopefully she’s alert soon, whatever we’re looking for, I expect she’ll be the one to know what it means.”

Gene sat back and pulled Holly to him again. He was weary, so very weary. So tired he couldn’t even focus on thoughts of his family. His mind wandered loosely, clumsily. He wondered if he was beginning to crack. Words came out without much thought as he whispered them to Holly.

“I had this dog once. Bucky. Damned stupidest dog I’ve ever known. So stupid he ran into trees, doors, forgot how to lay down. But I was a kid and he was my dog, so I loved him. I tried to teach him to fetch, but after about a year, I chalked it up as a good toss if he managed to wander somewhere reasonably close to where the stick landed.

“I took him swimming and he nearly drowned. I took him for walks and he’d fall off the sidewalk. But I didn’t care. He was mine and I thought he was the greatest dog in the world.

“One time another dog in the neighborhood growled at him, threatened to start a big fight, had that stance that said he was about to attack. I ran over to break it up, but before I got there, Bucky had raised his leg and pissed on the other dog. That mean sonofabitch couldn’t process what had just happened. Instead of tearing into Bucky, he ran off whimpering. Damned funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I doubt Bucky even knew what he’d done.”

A small chuckle came from Holly’s throat and she looked up with a small smile. “What the fuck are you talking about, Gene?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. But what I do know is that sometimes pissing on another dog before he bites you might save your neck. It worked for Bucky, at least.” Holly was trying to hold back another laugh. “Fuck if I know, Holly. But I’d say about anything to see you smiling again.”

She burst out laughing and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Holly whispered in his ear, “thank you, Gene ... thank you ... I needed that ... whatever it was...” She kissed his lips and held him a moment, and by the time she broke from his embrace, the old Holly was rapidly coming back to life.

“Mrs. Polanksi.”

Tamara picked her head up from the table. She’d only wanted to rest and try to forget her situation for a moment, but apparently had fallen asleep. The man’s voice was silky and almost crystalline. She blinked her eyes clear, took in his form a few seconds. He was short, thin, skin the color of sun-bleached leather. His dark eyes and hair blended seamlessly into his tight, collared knit shirt and tighter slacks. He watched her without a word.

“Tamara. Please call me Tamara.”

“Tamara,” the man said smoothly. “My name is Spider.” His eyes seemed to pass from her face to where her breasts pressed out her shirt. He paused there only a moment before looking again at her face. “Major Danielson has filled me in on your situation. We’ve been trying to find you and your family for some time. I’m glad you are safe.”

“My family. Have you found my husband? My kids?”

Spider held a steady gaze. “We have reason to believe your husband is alive, but he is not here.”

A small measure of hope bubbled up. “And my kids?”

“Tamara, we’re in a bit of an odd situation here,” he said, not answering her question. “You showed up just as we were shutting down Saray. Last convoy is leaving in an hour. I suspect you know that there are others trying to find you and your family, especially your husband. As such, you’ll travel as our guest for a while. To keep you safe, of course.”

Tamara welcomed about any situation which didn’t include staying in the tiny claustrophobic room any longer. “Fine. Fine ... but what about my kids? Do you know anything?”

Spider shook his head. “Not in some days, no. I suspect they are safe, Tamara. We don’t have them, and we have no reason to believe they have been found. I believe they are in hiding.”

Tamara deflated a bit, nodded weakly.

Spider sat down. “I know you have had a difficult time, Tamara. I know you miss your family. We want what you want, to find them and see them safely hidden from those who wish to harm them.”

“You mean you want whatever it is my husband knows...”

Spider shrugged slightly. “The end result is the same. We’re trying to locate him. What he knows could save a lot of lives, Tamara. Finding him alive and safe would get us both what we want, yes?”

Tamara said nothing.

“Tell me something ... did he ever mention what it is that has put his life in danger? Any details of what he knows?”

She shook her head. “No ... he ... he never told me anything until we started running for our lives. He doesn’t know what he knows that people want, he ... he doesn’t know.” She realized there was some doubt in her statement. Deep down, she still harbored anger that he had hidden his life in Whitehead from her for so long. “I don’t know anything...”

Spider nodded, offered a thin smile. “I expected that. We have been able to keep some contact with him up until a few days ago. He was with one of the people I trust. Unfortunately, the situation became ... complicated ... and we have no communication with our agent at the current time.”

He seemed to be offering a great deal of information beyond what was necessary, and Tamara wondered if he was fishing for something from her. “So what is it you want from me, Spider? Who are you, anyway? What kind of name is Spider?”

He chuckled. “I run M1, Tamara. After Victor’s betrayal, I took over. However ... things got complicated.” He leaned forward. “This man you were with, Marcus Hannigan. Did he offer you his story?”

“Some...”

“Some.” He leaned closer. “Between you and me, I think he’s on our side, Mrs. Polanski. Tamara. When he left M1, he knew Victor was not playing by the same rules. I think ... I think he did the right thing. The fact that he busted you out from Playa Gordo tells me he recognized that you represented something more than a machine that the Mantis could dismantle. He has my respect for that.”

“What do you want, Spider?”

He was silent a moment. “I think you know something, Tamara. Like your husband, there’s something in your head that has been hidden from you. I think, perhaps, it is less about your husband. Oh, he’s important, to be sure. But ... Perhaps ... it is really you who holds the key to all this. And I think Marcus Hannigan knows that, too.”

Lauren had been thrilled to see Panthea alive again. They’d hugged tightly, the woman’s neck bandaged, and her leg injury obvious as she stood a moment outside the vehicle. She had excused herself and spent a few moments in hushed tones with Henderson before they all climbed back into the van, Panthea settled tightly against Lauren’s side on the bench seat.

The woman had ditched the stolen car and joined them in the van. She offered little explanation, saying only that she was compelled to track them down. Despite a short whispered conversation with Henderson before they had gotten underway again, the reasons for her pursuit were left unspoken to Lauren and the others.

Whatever it was, Lauren couldn’t believe the woman was alive. The last she had seen of Panthea was a frightening, deafening rush to the woman’s car to escape from her home, leaving the woman wounded and bleeding as unknown assailants attempted to shoot them down. Lauren shuddered at the memories, shuddered again to remember the nights she shared in Panthea’s bed. The woman had been her first same-sex experience, and Lauren certainly enjoyed feeling her warmth next to her as they rode north and west.

They’d chosen an unassuming, abandoned home a few blocks from what was considered ‘downtown’ in La Bresse to use as their headquarters. Gene had paced nervously for a while as the others discussed their options. Holly’s head was back to normal, her energy and leadership keeping everyone tight and focused. Gene’s head, however, was starting to feel raw and dull. It wasn’t just the headache. He felt like something was squeezing his thoughts into small channels, making them difficult to differentiate, hard to follow for more than a moment. It was incredibly unsettling.