Chapter 21

January 7, 6:30 p.m. five miles outside of Westport, Kansas

“Where are we?” Betty asked the pilot. She was sitting in the passenger compartment of the chopper to the right of the pilot looking out the window at a snow covered and cold landscape.

“Five miles west of Westport,” he said, without looking at her. “And we’re invisible to all electronic scanners.”

“We’ve made good time,” Betty told Dodge.

“Yeah,” he agreed as he looked out the window and up at the moon. “Last quarter of the moon is almost gone.”

“Good, we’ll be in the dark and not very noticeable,” she said.

“Set us down next to a road that leads to town,” Dodge told him. He was sitting behind the pilot looking out the window to his left at a large opening surrounded by trees. “And wait for us. We’ll need the Land Rover.”

“The area below us is a good place to land,” the pilot said as he looked at the computer screen on the instrument panel. “There’s a road a mile north of here. The Land Rover should be able to make it over the rough terrain to the road.”

“Okay,” Dodge said. “Sit us down, and wait. We should be back before sunrise.”

The pilot, without question, sat the chopper down in the space between the trees, blowing snow from the tree tops turning them into brown bare trees. A visual clash with the surrounding snow covered trees.

“Turn your scanners on,” Dodge told him as he unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. “If anyone comes let us know immediately.” He started walking back toward the metal door that led to the cargo area.

The pilot without a word leaned toward the instrument panel and flicked a switch that allowed the helicopter to pick up radar that might be searching for it, before the radar detected the helicopter. He knew there would be no radar search in this part of Kansas. There was no reason for it. The nearest airport was over a hundred miles away, and it was used only by small privately owned planes. And at this time of the year and in this weather it was seldom used. This was one of those places in America the rich and politically powerful considered unimportant unless there’s a Congressional or Presidential election and the citizens’ votes were needed to elect or re-elect a politician that didn’t give a damn about them after the election was over and the politicians got the money they wanted from

the corporations they supported at the expense of the people. Until there was another major election and they need the citizens’ votes.

“We should be back in two or three hours,” Betty said as she unbuckled her seat belt and stood up. She followed Dodge through the metal door back to the cargo area of the large helicopter where the Land Rover was locked down.

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot said. Not caring whether they came back in two or three hours or ever. His orders from Lawrence were not to be seen or caught. If someone showed up, he was going to leave them. If they had a complaint about that, they could take it up with Lawrence Ames.

The nice thing about the Hidden Society’s soldiers is they had a history of obeying the orders from their immediate superiors. And not giving a fuck about anyone else’s orders unless they came from one of the leaders or a member of the Council of Twenty.

Betty followed Dodge into the chopper’s cargo area and locked the metal door after herself while Dodge pushed the ramp lever down. Lowering the chopper’s ramp and automatically unlocking the wheel locks that held the Land Rover securely in place.

Cold air immediately rushed into the cargo area. Dodge and Betty both ignored the cold air. They were warmly dressed in parkas with gloves and boots on and wearing long underwear.

“You drive,” Dodge told Betty while he walked to the passenger‘s door of the Land Rover. “I’ll see if I can locate Marajo Smith with the Rover’s computer.” He got into the Land Rover and turned on the dashboard computer and typed the address they had for Marajo Smith into the computer.

She nodded her agreement and got into the Land Rover behind the steering wheel, and started the engine. Five minutes later she was driving across country toward the road that led to Westport. Twenty minutes later Betty drove out onto a snow cleared road and slowed down.

“Which direction?” she asked Dodge.

“Turn right. We should be in Westport by seven at the latest.”

“All the country folk of Westport should be at home by then,” Betty said.

Dodge looked up at the temperature readout that was a part of the lights just above the windshield. “It’s twelve degrees outside, Betty,” he said. “Those that aren’t out aren’t going to be interested in us because they’ll be heading somewhere warm.”

They rode is silence till they saw the tops of buildings that indicated Westport was directly ahead.

“This is going to be a short trip,” Dodge told her as he worked the dashboard computer. “Marajo’s home is in a residential neighborhood on the eastern end of town.”

“I wonder what type of house she lives in,” Betty said.

“If it’s a house, it’s probably some two bedroom bungalow type of house. Receptionists don’t make enough money to afford anything better. And Marajo wouldn’t want a house that would attract attention.”

“I wonder what sort of security system it has,” Betty said as she drove making sure to stay at fifty-five miles an hour. There was little chance a traffic cop would be driving around in cold weather on a country road, but why take the chance there might be one.

“I’ll bet she has an excellent security system in her two bedroom house. Exterior and interior cameras all well concealed with sound and motion sensors.”

“What is she trying to hide?” Betty asked.

“Marlene Done,” Dodge answered.

Dodge told her what turns to make as he watched the flashing green light on the Land Rover’s computer screen getting closer to the red dot that was Marajo’s home. When they reached the street Marajo’s house was on, he turned on the Land Rover’s scanners as Betty turned onto the street.

“You’re scanning the house?” she asked him.

“Yeah, all of them but I’m not picking up any sophisticated electrical current. Just the type of current you’d find on a house with a regular electrical system.”

“That’s understandable,” she said. “Marajo is just a small town girl working a small town job. Why have a sophisticated security system. If she had such a system, her neighbors might wonder what or who she is trying to hide from.”

Dodge agreed with her. “When you’re hiding as a common citizen, why advertise that you’re not a common citizen?”

“Guess that means we’re going to have to get out and look over the place,” Betty said.

“It does,” he said. “Park a block away on some side street that doesn’t have houses on it. We don’t want to look like a bunch of federal cops parking in front of her house.”

Betty did as he said, parking on a street that was a block from the street Marajo’s house was on with nothing but small businesses on it that were closed up. They got out and started walking.

“Cold,” she said.

“Usually is this time of the year,” he said.

She looked at the snow piled two feet high on each side of the sidewalk as they walked. “Lot of snow, too,” she said.

“That’s usual this time of the year, too,” he said, looking at the cleared street and sidewalk as he walked in a casual easy going manner. “People in this town know how to deal with the snow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

When they reached the block Marajo’s house was on they started looking left and right to see if anyone was looking at them through the windows of the houses on the corners they passed as they turned onto the street and continued walking. All the houses on the block looked as if their inhabitants were in for the night. Doors closed, and probably locked even in a small town there was probably crime but had a low crime rate, shades drawn and drapes as well to keep out the cold. And thin streams of steam caused by the warm air coming from the chimneys and making contact with cold air.

“Nice quiet neighborhood where people go to their warm homes after work on a cold January night and lock the cold and snow outside,” Betty said. “There they can enjoy their hot dinners and a few hours of TV before bed.”

“Good for us,” he said, stopping in front of Marajo’s house.

“This the address?” Betty asked him.

“Yep, this is Marajo Smith’s house,” he said as he looked at the dark windows.

They looked over the solid looking one story brick bungalow set back fifty feet from the sidewalk and surrounded on both sides by a snow covered front yard a few minutes before they started up the snow free concrete walk.

“House appears dark,” Betty said, noticing the drape covered windows didn’t have the shady look of a house with lights on inside.

Dodge stopped when they reached the concrete stoop and turned around and looked at the chimneys of the houses across the street and at the houses down the street from Marajo’s house. He was looking up at the roofs and saw thin streams of steam coming from their brick chimneys indicating the electric furnaces in the houses were working.

“What?” Betty asked him. “See something?”

“It’s what I don’t see,” he said, turning back toward Marajo’s house and looking up at the brick chimney.

“What don’t you see?” she asked, putting her right hand into the pocket of the long wool parka she was wearing where she had her weapon.

“No steam coming from the house’s chimney,” he said, noticing from the corner of his left eye her move her hand into the pocket of her parka where she carried her automatic. “No reason to be alarmed, Betty.”

She looked up at the chimney then turned around and looked at the chimneys of the houses across the street and on both sides of Marajo’s house. “Maybe she believes in conserving energy?” she suggested.   

“In this weather? Naw, she’s got an electric furnace like everyone else on this block and probably in this town and country because they’re mandated by the Department of Energy and they are efficient.” he asked. “Let’s go around back and see what we can see.”

They turned and looked to their left and right to see if there was a snow free walk they could use. Seeing none they turned right and walked through the snow covered front yard, leaving footprints they didn’t like leaving, around to the back of the house and up on the stoop that ran the length of the house. It was dark so they felt safe enough to look through her kitchen windows.

“Doesn’t look like she left any dirty dishes in the sink,” Betty said. She could see the sink between the heavy drawn curtains just below the window and very little else.

“I’ll bet she cleaned thoroughly,” Dodge said. “Not leaving finger prints or a strand of hair for our forensic people.”

“Think we should go in?” Betty asked him.

“For what? There’s nothing in this house that could help us,” he said. “Marajo Smith made contact with whoever Julian gave that drive to and she’s gone for good. And she did it just recently, too.”

“How do you know that, Dodge?”

“Because the walk to her house and the front and back stoops are free of snow,” he said. “She wouldn’t have shoveled snow off walks she didn’t expect to ever use again unless she did it before she made contact with the person Julian gave that drive to.”

“Maybe it hasn’t snowed in a few days,” Betty said.

“Maybe,” he said. He hadn’t bothered checking the weather channel on his com-cell. “But she’s gone with whoever Julian gave that drive to.”

“And we don’t know who this other person is,” she said.

“According to Willow his name is John W. Strong.”

“But we don’t know what he looks like or anything else about him.”

“No, we don’t. Nor do we know who Marajo has become now or even looks like,” he said, straightening up and turning to look at the garage at the end of the yard. “Let’s take a look in that garage.”

They walked to the garage down a snow cleared stone walk and looked through a dirty side window of the garage.                                                                                                                                                  

“She’s been keeping up with her auto skills,” he said, looking at the equipment in the garage. “This garage it well equipped for serious work on cars. But there is no car in it.”

“If we knew what type of car she was driving, we could get into its security system’s hard drive. Maybe get a license number and make and model of the car.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “This woman’s no fool, Betty. Any car she’s driving has a security system that consists only of door locks.”

“Shouldn’t we take a look inside her home?” Betty asked.

“Waste of time,” he said. “Marajo’s house is low tech all the way. And we’re equipped to deal only with high tech security systems. Not dead bolt locks and simple window locks.”

“There might be something inside of value to us,” Betty said. She didn’t understand why Dodge didn’t want to get inside the house. “There may be a picture of her, or something about this car missing from her garage. Maybe a registration form. Even she wouldn’t be dumb enough to have a car without having it registered. The law in this town would be all over her for not having it registered.”

“Okay,” Dodge said, turning to face her. “Let’s go inside, Betty. Considering what we already know about Marajo Smith, do you really think she’d leave pictures of herself lying about and a car registration form for us to find. The fact that she suddenly takes three weeks’ vacation in the middle of January suggests she met the person Julian gave the drive to, and she’s long gone. But let’s get inside the house anyway we might get lucky.”

Betty looked at him with an angry expression on her face and said, “If I’d known you were going to be such an asshole when you make sense, I’d asked Karl to let me work with him.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning and looking around the backyard. “Karl has such a warm, friendly personality.”

“Fuck you, Dodge,” she replied as she turned and looked in the direction he was looking.

They both turned around and looked in the side window of the garage again when someone behind them spoke.

“Looking for Ms. Smith?” a young male voice asked.

Both turned slowly toward the voice as if they didn’t want to alarm the person by suddenly turning. They knew a slow calm turn tended to put people off their guard making them more vulnerable. It made people think they were harmless or frightened of them giving those people a false sense of safety and them an edge. Both slipped their right hands into the right pockets of their parkas where their weapons were.

A teenage boy holding two full black plastic garbage bags in his left hand was standing next to a large, green plastic garbage can and staring at them with a friendly smile on his face from behind a fence in the next yard that bordered an alley. He was wearing a short brown leather jacket and no hat over his long black hair.

“Yes, we are” Dodge said in a friendly voice. His cold face was hard. “Have you seen her?”

“Naw, not since three this afternoon on my way home from school. You guys here about that Toyota Highlander?” He raised the lid of the garbage can with his right hand and raise and dropped the two garbage bags inside. He released the lid and it closed with a bang.

“Why yes,” Betty said. “We heard about it. Is it as fast as we’ve heard?”

“Aw,” the boy said with a big grin. “It’s a sweet ride, but not very fast. Built high, too. At least two feet off the ground and it’s got an excellent suspension system. But it can go zero to sixty in under twelve seconds.”

“Safe?” Dodge asked.

“Yeah, real stable. Even off road. She gave it a wide suspension system to make it a stable ride, and put them extra wide all terrain tires on it. Must have cost her a thousand a tire.”

“Did you see her leave?” Betty asked him.

“Yeah, about three this afternoon like I said. Saw her on my way home from school. She asked me to keep an eye on the place. Nice lady. Cold out here,” he said as he headed back to the light coming from the open kitchen door of his home. “Bye.”

“Wait a minute!” Dodge said. “What color is it?”

The boy stopped on the stoop near the door and turned toward them. “It’s a sort of a dirty gray green color. That’s the only thing wrong with it. It needs a good paint job over all that primer.”

“By the way what does Ms. Smith look like?” Betty said, smiling at the boy. “We haven’t seen her in years and she may have changed her appearance a bit. You know how we women are about our looks.”

“Average looking older woman,” the boy said. “About five seven. Fat shape.”

“Thanks,” Dodge said.

“Bye,” the boy said again and disappeared into the house closing the door.

“She’s Marlene Done alright. The Beaver Bay newspaper said she was about five seven,” Betty said. “And she’s made contact with whoever Julian gave the drive to.”

Dodge looked at his wrist watch. It was 7:30 p.m. “And she’s over three hours ahead of us,” Dodge said. “And we don’t know where she’s going.”

Their com-cells rang. Each pushed their parkas back a few inches and reached into their pants pockets and took their com-cells and answered the call.

“It’s from Karl,” Betty said, looking at an eighteen digit number with two letters of the alphabet in front of the first eight numbers and two letters in front of the second eight numbers with Karl’s name under it. “What are those numbers?”

“They’re map coordinates,” Dodge said, looking at the small screen on his com-cell. “And detailed ones, too.”

“Where the hell are they?” she asked.

He punched the numbers and letters into his com-cell and typed ‘locate’. A second later the exact spot appeared on his com-cell monitor with the state name.

“I don’t exactly know where,” he said. “But these coordinates are for some place in Nevada.”

“Why would Karl send us map coordinates in Nevada?” Betty asked him.

“Let’s call him and find out,” Dodge suggested as he dialed the number of Karl’s com-cell. No one could hear them because the Society had its own special frequency.

“Karl here,” Karl said. “What did you find out?” He knew it was Dodge from the caller id number on his com-cell.

“Marajo Smith is probably Marlene Done and she’s gone,” Betty told him over her com-cell. She had the same frequency.

“Do you have a description of her?”

“Poor one given to us by a teen-age boy,” Dodge said. “He said she was average looking about five seven with a fat shape.”

“Is that all?” Karl grumbled at them.

“We got that from a teenage boy, Karl,” Betty said. “If she looked like some young sexy, skinny Hollywood star he would have given us the exact sizes of her boobs.”

“Get back to headquarters. There are weapons and clothes waiting for both of you. And come to those coordinates. Drive don’t fly. Use the Land Rover,” Karl ended the call.

“Why in Nevada?” Betty asked him as she put her com-cell in her pocket.

“Isn’t it obvious, Betty,” Dodge told her as he put his com-cell back in his pocket and started walking toward the block the Land Rover was on.

“No, it isn’t, Dodge,” she replied sharply walking beside him.

“Marlene Done and her accomplice are heading there,” he said. “How Karl found out I don’t know. But when they arrive Karl and Willow will be waiting for them.”

“Why did he tell us not to fly?” she asked him.

“I don’t know but let’s get back to headquarters and get going to those coordinates,” he said. “Once we get on the road we can call Karl and tell him we’ve got a description of the car Marlene is driving.”

***