Chapter 19

As far as getaways go, mine couldn't have been much smoother. Before he'd left Miami, the Foole had arranged for another disposable rental car, with lease papers under my new temporary traveling identity. Not the one I hoped to use for the long term future, but a temporary facilitator identification. Enough to get me safely anywhere but here! When I was ready to establish roots again, then I could use my better and safer false ID for a more permanent life.

I had one good outfit of clothes left, which I was now wearing and I had my pack with my remaining 'safe' guns, the ones I had not fired at any time during my assault upon the Watters estate. I had my Lady Cougars still, and my Neptune shotgun stashed away in the gunbag in the trunk of the rental car. Using common Beretta 9mm parts from Pete's private arms storage bunker I'd replaced the blown out seals, barrel and firing pin, making my HushPuppy useable and whisper quiet (and also safe to tote) once again. The H&K MP-5 of course had gone into the shipping container destined for the bottom of the Atlantic. I'm not a fangirl for H&K like a lot of military operators are, but I had to admit that it had performed accurately and flawlessly entirely through the mission. What more can you ask from a gun?

In replacement, Pete had offered me, albeit rather grudgingly, his late uncle's favorite toy, a H&K MP5SD-N, the US Navy SEALs' silenced variant of the weapon, having a retractable metal stock, front illuminated laser sights and a stainless steel suppressor. The design of the suppressor even allowed the weapon to be fired with water inside, should water enter the device during operation in or near water. Rather handy if I needed to emerge like Venus from the ocean waves, ready to spit out violence and mayhem! As found, it had been chambered for 9mm parabellum ammunition, and I almost considered converting it to a larger round but in the end we talked ourselves into leaving it alone. For starters the weapon's noise suppression had been tuned and calibrated for the smaller round and the gun was certainly robust enough to handle some of the hottest non-FMJ bullets on the market that might significantly improve ballistic performance. Also the ammo was cheap and more than plentiful, so that I could buy it without attracting any unwanted attention.

Actually, I think Pete didn't want this gun around to remind him of his uncle anymore. Besides, in theory I was now out of the revenge business too!

Also in the trunk was one of Lawrence's suitcases with my half of his getaway money. I'd roughly counted and totaled it all up the previous day, and even without my gym bag of pocket money that I'd hidden near the produce distribution center I was pretty flush with cash. Way too much so to be caught with at a random police stop, where it would obviously look like drug money. Besides, I had some other arrangements to make! I also still had Chesty's laptop, which was password protected well beyond my limited computer hacking stills. I'd thought about driving to Key West to give it to my geek buddy Jack, but that was escaping in the wrong direction, besides now that I was starting a new life and identity I didn't want anyone I knew to catch sight of me, at least for now.

First, I drove back to that produce warehouse in South Miami and after a few hours of surveillance, I didn't notice anything unusual happening. The dead snipers were gone from the weed covered empty lot next door but my hidden bag of operating cash was right where I'd left it, untouched. I even did a search for hidden GPS tracers but didn't find even a stitch out of place. Good enough. I'd need this money for more casual expenses for the next month or even longer, until I felt safe enough to assume my new regular (and hopefully permanent) identity.

Next, it was time to make some rather large deposits at that dodgy S&L. Ramon the bank manager was quite delighted to see me and even more so to accept some illegally large deposits in cash for transfer. My plan for the Lawrence Watters crime family money was to divide the proceeds in half with Rod Baker's widow and daughter. I had their names and even their out-of-town addresses, and I put an equal amount of their split into a separate account for each of them, the daughter's to be put in trust for either college expenses or her 25th birthday. I'd need to find a moderately bent attorney to finalize this part of the legal stuff, but I was certain that DeeDee could point me in the direction of one over the phone. He could.

My share of the cash, which was as much of the bloody money as I thought I could stomach receiving in any case, was wired to the Grand Cayman account, and totaled almost another $600k. I thought this would be enough to allow me to rebuild something of a life from near total scratch in the future. I still had all of the bearer bonds which were worth a lot more, tens of millions more at least, but I didn't want to touch any of these yet. They'd go into a bank vault pretty soon, to sit and rest until I could think of a good use for the money.

I was starting to have ambitions, to maybe go to college and learn something other than killing, to find a new career that didn't require a gun ... and maybe find contentment, if not satisfaction or even actual happiness!

Tori had been avenged. Her murderer and those that had tried to thwart my justice, my vengeance, had paid their debts in full. Now with any luck at all, I could start trying to pay my own debts.

Just outside of Pensacola heading west on I-10 I stopped for the evening at a hotel with an attached diner, enjoyed a long quiet dinner without feeling the urge to shoot anyone, and then decided to give the Foole's secure cell a call from a disposable one I'd bought a few hours earlier at a big truck stop while refueling.

"Foole, I'm calling from a disposable phone, is it safe to talk?" I inquired, and at probably more of a whisper than was really necessary. I was outside in the hotel parking lot with no one visible, let alone in any listening range.

"Safe and sound ... as you sound ... but are you safe?" He replied with a bit of a laugh.

"I'm now out of town, out of touch and hopefully far, far out of the game. I earlier today left a private anonymous note to the widow of an acquaintance of ours, and made note that her late husband had left some additional provision for her and their daughter, other than his 'hot rod'." I didn't want to use any names, secure phone line or not, as some NSA supercomputer probably had the late Captain Rod Baker keyworded into their current search routines."

"Very considerate of you, but I've already made similar arrangements as well. Better too much than too little, you'd agree. While some of my Potomac friends are down in Florida visiting, I've requested that they pay the mourning family a visit as well. Our beach friends will also be making similar arrangements for the family funeral." Ah, that was good. That meant that Hot Rod's body could receive a somewhat more dignified resting place other than the sand dunes near Pete's house. This was good news for everyone.

"Speaking of your friends in suits, just what happened after I passed out by the pool? Pete and Kedra were a little vague on the details and didn't recall seeing any particular fireworks after we left the party."

"Ah, that is because the real fun occurred afterwards. We missed all of the fun by about ten minutes, but everyone left had a very hot time indeed! If you left your clutchbag or party favors behind, be assured that they aren't there now!"

Now the Foole was playing it coy. Secure connection or not, always assume that the bad guys have found a really clever way to listen in. Still, this meant that the mansion was toast, and my long trail of blood splatter might have been adequately disposed of.

"Oh, so has my name has come up afterwards, as a party-pooper who couldn't handle her drinks and left early?"

"From what my friends tell me, no one even noticed that you were there ... although a few know that you'd had an invite. If you're really curious about what the mean girls are all saying about you behind your back, you can give my fratboy friend a call sometime next week when he's back home. He looks good in a suit and who knows, the two of you might hit it off, and you've got a bit in common. You can whisper secrets in the dark together and discuss old sordid relationships ... I think you'll like him!"

In short, the Foole was saying that his fed friend, probably FBI, could be trusted to tell the truth to, or most of the whole unvarnished truth anyway.

"I'll do that. I was planning on a trip home to visit Mom and Dad soon and rest up quietly for awhile, but it would be nice to know if I had any old relationship problems still outstanding. If the past can stay the past, I'll be one happy girl!"

"I'll make sure I'll tell him that! But I'm sure he'll find a mystery lady with a very checkered past something of an enticement!"

"Your business trip go well? Everyone happy with the new acquisitions?"

"Excessively so! My expense report was heavily padded as always and quite obscene but they paid it ... and my bonus, with a huge smile. Everyone's happy! The next time I can offer you a finder's fee for more new business I'll let you know."

"Hah! That's if you can find me!" I laughed, entirely too seriously.

"For me, the impossible just takes a few minutes longer! Be well, Ree ... and I think you're further down the road to happiness and even redemption than you suspect! Despite what you might think of yourself, you're not a bad or evil person, just someone who cared about her friends too much to let anything stand in your way!"

With that the Foole hung up and I made sure my disposable phone was very disposed of in at least hundred small pieces and the SIMM card very thoroughly destroyed beyond any electronic reconstruction.

What the Foole had told me was mildly unsettling, that he thought that I wasn't either crazy or a homicidal maniac! Troubled, yes ... very certainly, but I wasn't turning into something like my enemies, something twisted and murderous.

Yes, the rage was still there within me, but as I lay in bed that night and pondered, it seemed less angry and determined to erupt. It was a part of me still, but for the moment anyway it was now entirely under the control of my will. Maybe the burning ire was subdued just a bit, fuming passively now, its fires banked down low into just embers. But still there nevertheless.

I continued west on I-10 and spent the next few days playing the role of the lazy tourist in New Orleans. This was a city with a bloody history all of its own, but their ghosts and mine stayed safely apart from each other. I did a little shopping, drank some frozen alcoholic drinks on the streets of the French Quarter and enjoyed a series of pleasant lunches and dinners until I'd regained all of the weight I'd lost in the last month, and even regained a few of the pounds I'd lost during the last few years of fretting while hunting in vain for Tori's killer. One night after four or five hurricanes too many in Pat O'Briens, I even had the wild hallucination that my old friends Tori and her fiancé Phil were drinking with me, and all-together we lived it up (if one can with a pair of ghosts) until dawn.