Chapter 19: Quarry is caught in the Trap

Finally Friday came and I waited in the terminal at the airbase for my plane to land. Promptly at 7 PM it nosed its way to the terminal and stopped at the designated spot on the tarmac where VIP planes were serviced and fueled. I watched as the hatch was opened and out stepped Agent Foster. He strode over to the terminal and came in. He looked around saw me and waved. I picked up my overnight bag and walked over to him.

“I am ready any time you are,” I said. “Lets get this show on the road. Whats the in-flight movie this time? I am hungry so how long till they start serving dinner?”

“Go on out to the jet, I will be just a second. I have to take care of something first.,” said Foster.

I went out to the jet and went thru the hatch and took my usual seat by the wing. This seat I found to be the quietest and would allow to nap if I chose to. I didn’t bring a book with me this time since I wasn’t sure what I would be doing on this trip. I wore my usual polo shirt, dockers and hikers. Inside my bag was a light weight jacket if I needed it. At this time of the year in Chicago you never knew what the temperatures with the wind coming off of Lake Michigan.

The two pilots were busy going through their usual pre-flight check and as soon as the fuel truck was moved away from the jet they started up the engines. We were waiting on Agent Foster as he still wasn’t back yet from what ever he had to do. I was beginning concerned about his whereabouts when he popped through the hatch. The copilot went to close the hatch and the jet began to roll away from the terminal.

“Where did you go?” I asked. “You were gone for a long time.”

He answered me by throwing a white bag at me. Inside it was a rotisseried hot dog, a bag of salt and vinegar flavored chips, a hostess ding dong and a can of Faygo grape soda.

“You did say you were hungry, didn’t you? Pickings were slim at this late hour at the snack bar,” So my in-flight meal consisted of an overcooked hot dog, a bag of surprisingly good chips, stale dessert cakes that were out of date by at least 6 months and an at room temperature grape soda. I have had worse.

Close to midnight Chicago time we touched down at Midway International Airport and the jet taxied over to a hanger and we stayed in the jet until it was pushed in to the hanger. When the door closed Agent Foster opened the hatch and we both exited the jet. We were met by the same agents as before and a round of handshakes and greetings were quickly exchanged. It was then agreed we would meet at O’Hare the next morning at 10AM. At least hopefully I would be able to get checked in to a hotel somewhere and get some sleep.

Agent Foster and another agent had me follow them over to a typical government agency car and we all got in. The car screamed Feds with the plain steel hubcaps and the spot light on the driver’s door. We soon were heading towards O’Hare. Approximately forty five minutes later we pulled off I90 and turned into a nondescript motel near the airport. Agent Foster went in to the office and shortly came out with a couple of keys. He motioned for me to get out of the car.

When I got out he handed me a key and said, “I’ll be banging on your door at 9:30 so you be ready by then. Show time is going to be at 11 AM. We can grab something at the airport in the morning for breakfast.”

I quickly got to bed and at 3 AM my stomach rebelled and I was occupied for a while before I could return to sleep. At 8:30 AM I was waken by my wake up call that I requested. And at 9:30 AM Agent Foster was at my door knocking to make sure I was up and ready. We loaded our gear into the car and were soon headed to the airport.

Agent Foster and his agents held a briefing in the waiting area going over how they planned on arresting Ginny. They felt they had enough manpower if Ginny gave them any problems. They had six male agents and two females there along with airport police in case back up would be needed. I was to stand off to the side where I would be partially hidden yet able to see people as they filed through the gate. Even though the team members knew what she looked like, I was there to provide positive identification. When I recognized her I was to give Agent Foster the signal and then the team would swoop in and take her into custody with the least amount of force needed. If she put up a fight that was the reason for the extra agents and back up provided by the airport police.

At 11:06 AM Ginny’s plane arrived and was pushed up to the terminal. I looked around and saw the FBI agents getting ready to spring the trap. Some you could see were going over what they planned to do in their heads. While the others waited showing no emotions what so ever. Ten minutes later the airline representative opened the door and people started coming out. Some were greeted by family and most just headed for the baggage claim area.

Then there she was looking around I suppose looking Jeff Valentine. I looked over to Agent Foster and gave him the nod. He spoke into a head set he was wearing and the arrest team went into action. It was over almost before anyone else in the crowd knew what was happening. Two agents swooped in from behind her and pushed her over to the wall by the gate. Each of them holding an arm. The other agents formed a circle around Ginny and the two agents holding her arms. Within 15 seconds they had her handcuffed, her arms firmly pinioned behind her back. Once she was securely shackled an agent was reading to her rights and another then told her what she was being arrested for. Ginny didn’t show any emotion other than initial shock. She didn’t struggle, scream or draw attention to herself. She passively accepted what was happening. I truly don’t think she had fully understood just what had happened to her. The emotional outbursts and the physical resisting would come later.

I was standing beside Agent Foster as the team escorted her out of the terminal and into a waiting government sedan for the trip to being booked in the county jail. She was looking around and her eyes were on me as she was whisked by. I saw she recognized me but didn’t have time to react to my presence. She was Ginny and yet not Ginny. It was like she had morphed into another being when she was being escorted out. She was not the same young woman I knew from the past.

Agent Foster motioned for me to follow him. We headed to the baggage claim area where he planned on getting her luggage and take it back to the FBI field office. It would be opened after a search warrant had been obtained and searched for anything related to the case. If nothing was found it would be held for her in a secure storage location.

As we were walking out of the terminal towards the FBI sedan in the parking lot I asked Agent Foster when I would be heading back to Minot.

“Oh you aren’t through just yet, my friend.” he said smiling. “You have a deposition to give to the Federal Prosecuting Attorney about how you are involved in this craziness. That should take most of the afternoon. And don’t worry lunch is on me.”

“Just as long it isn’t a dried up rotisseried hot dog and warm grape soda.” I said. “I am still feeling the effects from last night’s gourmet outing.”

“Hey, this is Chicago, home to deep dish pizza and the best hot dogs in the world.”

“Any more delicacies like last night and I am ready to become a vegan.” I responded.

As we got to the FBI Sedan Agent Foster looked over at me and looked like something was bothering him. “I need to ask you something, its been driving me crazy since I met you,” he said seriously.

“How did you meet up with this nut job in the first place?” he quizzed.

After a quick lunch at a local pizza joint Foster drove me to the US District Attorney’s office and dropped me off. For the next four hours we went over my involvement with Ginny B. He asked how we met, about our relationship in college and after college. And when I told him about her rage and how she left scars on my arm. He had an assistant come in and take a photograph of them. It was actually several photographs. I have had professional portraits done that weren’t as involved as the shots taken on my arm scars were. They were photographed under different types of lights, and in several photos a special ruler was laid along side of the scars to show their size.