IT WAS A COLD DAY IN OCTOBER

 By Atonia Walpole

Chapter 1:

I have a story to tell you, but please do not pass it on. There are lives in danger still after all this time. It begins in a small southern town. Oh, you won’t recognize it; there are thousands that fit the description. A wide Main Street with a row of shops down one side and a railroad track down the other. If you cross the railroad track the road comes to a Y and it’s in the center of this Y where the house stood for over a hundred years. It’s a shame about the house, nothing but a burnt out shell now, its chimney’s still standing proud. I don’t understand why they don’t tear it down and sell the property, but maybe they are still waiting for her to return someday. I know she won’t be back. How, you may ask, do I know? I just do. You do realize, of course, that the names I will impart here are not real. I could never tell all, you see.

It began in October; at least that’s when Bee became aware that something was going on around her house. The house was a large Victorian with a porch that went all around to the back ‘L’ that had been added at some point in the past. The ‘L’ held the laundry room and the kitchen. It was a warm and cozy place, unlike the rest of the house.  Dark, uncomfortable furniture filled the front parlor and the dining room. She had tried to bring some comfort to the den she fashioned out of the back parlor, comfortable sofas and a TV. Upstairs were four bedrooms. Bee had the back bedroom that overlooked the yard. Pretty yard it was, too. Huge magnolias, azaleas, camellias and maple trees created a shady and cool place to sit out in the summer. But summer had passed and leaves covered the yard waiting for Bee’s rake.

Bee was around thirty that year, I believe. She was a pharmacist, you know, worked downtown in the old drug store on the corner. Her daddy was the town doctor for as many years as I can remember. When she finished college and her training she came back home to look after her parents until they passed on. They left her the big monstrosity of a house. Now Bee worked hard, but you know she didn’t make that much money so she had decided to take in a boarder. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh, she worked hard on those two rooms, made them into a suite, quite nice really; had a 180 degree view if you looked out all the windows. She placed an ad in the paper. Now, there’s no local paper here, only a newsletter goes out every two weeks. No, the paper she placed the ad in was… oh well, I can’t tell you, can I? Let’s just say it covered a large metro area. It ran one weekend and produced a lot of phone calls. In the end, it wasn’t suitable, too far out, stairs were a problem, and the rent was too high. Anyway, she became discouraged over the whole thing. That was when she began noticing the cigarette butts.

Bee was a creature of habit; she woke up at 6:30 every morning, walked out to get her paper around 7:00, sat in her den reading the paper and drinking her coffee and went upstairs to shower and dress. At 8:45 every day except Saturday and Sunday she went to work at the drug store. She drove her little car across the tracks and parked in front in the forty-five degree angled parking spaces. She went home for lunch at 11:45 and returned at 12:45. At 4:00 she got back in her car and drove home. She shopped on Saturday, cleaned her house on Sunday and worked around in her yard. It was after the trip to the paper box one cold October morning it began and she didn’t think much about it at the time. You know butts are found everywhere. No, it was the trip to the mailbox at lunchtime that caught her attention, another butt. It was the way they were bent, you see, not stamped out but bent. She picked it up and threw it away.

Saturday morning Bee carved a pumpkin and placed it on her front porch along with a wreath on the door. There would be few if any trick-or-treaters. The town was really dying out. No young people moved here any more and children were scarce. Only visiting grandchildren provided the laughter and high-jinks around the neighborhood.

She got her broom out and swept the porch, sending the leaves running for cover in the azaleas. She found another butt, on her porch of all places. Now, she was not skittish. Bee lived here all her life except the college years but this was beginning to concern her, as you might imagine. There was a wrought iron fence around her property and not that she locked the gate or anything, but somebody had been on her porch smoking.

Later on that same day she found another butt back near the pet cemetery in the corner of her back yard. She began thinking about getting another dog, maybe a big dog.

If you found out someone had been around your house you probably would call the police. Bee actually thought about that, but then the thought of Jack Rogers (not his real name, of course) stopped her. She didn’t like him and I don’t blame her. He was a sleazy man who would have liked to spend some time with Bee, if you know what I mean. Bee made sure her doors were locked and turned on all the lights outside that night. She made a couple of phone calls to people she thought might help her find a dog. But of course she never got one because he showed up Sunday morning outside her front gate.

She arose as usual on Sunday morning, pulling an old ragged out cardigan over her shoulders, and opened her door to go get her paper. She stopped halfway across her porch. The man was standing outside her gate dressed in an Atlanta Braves cap and bomber jacket. He wore jeans and was smoking a cigarette. A chill ran up her spine, as you might imagine, and it had nothing to do with the cold morning. She looked around and saw no vehicle. Who was he and where did he come from? What did he want? She would soon find out as he opened the gate and approached her, carrying a zipped up leather case.

“Good morning. Bee Canton?” (Well, I’ll give her a last name, not her real name, of course.) He walked all the way to the porch and gave his name, “I’m Jim Beason and I’d like to talk to you about the room you have to rent.”

“Well, let’s sit out here,” she said and offered up the white wicker settee. She sat on the swing and narrowed her eyes at him. He was a nice looking man, clean-shaven, blue-eyed and had a nice smile which he was displaying as he unzipped the case on his lap. “Let me ask, have I talked with you on the phone?” She thought maybe one of the callers had changed their mind about the room.

“No, Miss Canton, we have never spoken on the phone.” He was pulling out some papers and a small leather case which he unfolded and handed to her. “This will explain who I am.”

She regarded the case and opened it. FBI it said and she looked up quickly. “Am I in trouble?” She felt foolish for asking such a thing, but it was the first thing that came to her mind. I mean FBI here in…I can’t tell you where, just know it would be a strange thing for the FBI to be there. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” She opened it again, just to make sure and closed it. His photo matched the face before her. She watched him put his cigarette out with his thumb, bending the filter. Now she was wary and she should have been, oh yes, she should have shown him the gate at once. “You’re the one. How long have you been hanging around my house?” she wanted to know.

He looked her in the eye, “Ever since the ad ran in the paper for the room to rent. Let me explain myself to you, Bee.”

What followed was a detailed description of her movements, her habits, who she knew, her age, where she went to school, how long she had lived here. All this information culled by him had been sent to Washington DC. Her house had been chosen as the safest place they could find. They had a person who needed a safe haven for a while. Oh, it would only be for a month, then they would move him again and for this they were prepared to offer a sum of money for her expenses. He handed her several papers that spelled out exactly what she was to do in return for this sum of money. Simply provide a room and meals for a month for this unknown person. No information was included in the papers she read that told her who this person was.

“Mr. Beason, this all sounds very strange and I would want to know who is going to be a tenant here. I mean I don’t want some criminal or mafia person here. As you have pointed out, I am alone here I have to be careful.”

“Bee, we wouldn’t put anyone here that would pose a threat to you. He’s not dangerous in that sense. I’m afraid I cannot go into details. The less you know the better. I guess I’m asking you to trust me on that.” Jim smiled at Bee. He must have been very personable, very persuasive and very good looking, I should imagine. Bee told him she wanted to think about it and he told her there was no time. He handed her a paper to sign and a check with her name on it for $100,000.00. Well now, what would you do in her place, I ask? Exactly so.

He asked to see the room and she led him upstairs. He walked around checking windows, doors, looking for a phone outlet and pronounced it perfect. He even complimented her on her choice of comfortable furnishings. He also had a tour of the rest of the house and when he came to the back door he turned to Bee and said, “One thing I will ask of you, Bee. No one, and I mean no one, must know he is here or even that you have a boarder, understand? He will not be leaving the house once he is here until we come for him, okay?” He walked out the door and she followed him. “I’ll keep in touch with you. This is a number where you can reach me should you need to.” He handed her a card with his name and phone number. The number was an 800 number, he explained, and she was to say his name and would be connected to his cell phone immediately. Bee looked alarmed and he only gave her a reassuring smile back.

Bee wanted to know when this visitor was to arrive and Jim told her he was here now. Just then a dark blue van pulled up behind her house and two men got out, went around to the back and opened the doors. Two black leather cases were set on the ground and the man stepped down on to the pea gravel walkway to her backdoor, turning to look at her. He wore a black raincoat, jeans and running shoes. His hair was longish, curling around his head and over his collar. He did not look happy to be here and, indeed, he wasn’t. He was far from home and didn’t know what day it was or, for that matter, where he was. He reminded Bee of a captured animal, caged and taken in the night, when she first saw him. He wasn’t what she had expected, now was he?

Chapter 2:

The man was escorted to her back door and Jim led the way upstairs carrying his luggage with Bee following in their wake. When the two escorts had left to go back to the van, Jim introduced her to the man as John Smith. He only nodded in her direction and walked over to one of the windows, looking out over the field across the side road. Jim took Bee’s arm and they stepped out into the hallway as he closed the door. Bee wanted to know something about the man, of course, but the only thing Jim would tell her was that he was Australian. He hadn’t committed a crime and was only under their protection. She followed him down the stairs, feeling uneasy about the whole thing. It had happened so fast she hadn’t had time to consider what this might mean for her, having a man secreted in her upstairs bedroom for a month. The motor was running in the van outside and Jim walked to her back door. He assured her everything would be fine and it was only for a month. He would be in touch and then he left. She never saw him again.

Bee, as you recall, was on her way to get the Sunday paper when this strange scene began less than an hour ago. She walked out and retrieved her paper and took it back to the den as was her usual practice. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. This was too much to take in without a cup of coffee. She pulled off the ragged out cardigan, realizing she was still in her pyjamas. There was the man upstairs. Would he want coffee? She sat down on her sofa, pulling the check from the pocket of her pyjama top. He must be an important person for them to pay her that much money for a month’s rent. Indeed, he had become an important person.

She turned her head toward his closed door as she made her way to her bedroom to dress. Jeans and a sweater. Later she softly knocked on his door. He only opened it a crack. “I’m on my way to make breakfast and wondered if you’d eaten this morning, or maybe you’d like some coffee?” she asked. He opened the door a little wider to show he was dressed in his jeans and a blue pullover sweater. Bee thought he was nice looking, if a bit weary. His eyes were the blue-green of the ocean and he had a neatly trimmed beard. He said he had eaten but coffee would be nice and could he have it in his room. She smiled a little at his accent and said, yes, he could but that meals would be served downstairs. He nodded and closed the door.

Bee had never had anyone staying in her home and wasn’t quite sure what she should do for him. She found a tray with butterflies over the top of it and fixed a little coffee service, cup, saucer spoon creamer and a little sugar bowl. She poured the coffee in a flask and took it up the stairs. She didn’t knock for obvious reasons but called his name. He opened the door to take the tray, but she walked into the room and set it down on the coffee table in front of the love seat in the bay window. “I hope you’ll like it here,” she said and smiled at him. He hadn’t moved from the door and gave her a sad look.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he said softly. She put her hands in her pockets, realizing he didn’t want to talk, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She thought he was an odd person, but then she didn’t know what he’d been through, did she?

I’ll tell you some of what I know about John so you’ll understand how it was. He was a government agent who came across some information he shouldn’t have. He had been hunted on three continents, barely escaping with his life on the last. That’s when the FBI stepped in. Oh, they knew about him, but couldn’t touch him until he crossed the Atlantic. He’d been threatened, tortured, and questioned for three months. In all this time he only told the truth as he knew it. You might wonder why they left him in this unmentioned town alone. He had been micro-chipped. They could trace him when they wanted to. Right now they didn’t think he wanted to go anywhere.

There were others looking for him.

Bee ate her breakfast at the table reading the Parade section as was her custom on Sunday morning. Her eyes kept going back to the check, which seemed to follow her from room to room. She saw herself taking it to the bank and depositing it in her account and talking to Mary across the teller’s window. She couldn’t do that, could she? How would she explain the money, because Mary would ask her how she came into it and she couldn’t say. She would have to open another account somewhere else, maybe in the City, which shall go unnamed. She wouldn’t be able to spend it around here. People would be wondering how she could afford a new car or a new freezer.

Small town living has its drawbacks. Having a boarder would have explained a few expenditures, but she couldn’t say she had one. People around here noticed any variance in routine and discussed it in the drug store while she filled their prescriptions. She ran her hands through her tousled blond hair that she had cut every six weeks over at Betty Boop’s Beauty Salon. Friday, she decided, she would leave work and go into the city and open an account at a different bank.

Bee dug around in her freezer looking for something to cook for Sunday dinner. She found a beef roast and put it out to thaw. Now groceries would have to increase around here since she would be feeding two. She saw herself ordering two steaks, two chops. Mr. Butler would want to know why she wanted two because she never bought more than one at a time. She thought she would start shopping at the large supermarket on the outskirts of town. It would be commented on but she could make up some reason at the drug store when asked why she wasn’t at the butcher’s on Saturday. You see what her life was becoming just thinking about it.

She had the roast going and a pan of root vegetables on the side then decided to rake the leaves from her front lawn. She had them bagged and pulled to the street when her elderly neighbor came by with his little terrier on a lead. They talked the weather for awhile then he looked up, shading his eyes, and asked her if she had a visitor. She, of course, told him no but he thought he’d seen someone at the window. No, she assured him, he had not. Now she would have to tell John to be careful around the windows. Bee washed up in the kitchen and cleaned off her table, stacking the papers on the bureau by the door. She set out two plates and silverware and napkins. She made gravy, not something she would normally do, but a nice touch to the roast she had prepared then walked up the stairs to let John know dinner was ready.

He followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking in everything as he went. Bee filled his plate and set it before him. She sat down across from him and picked up her fork. “I hope you like roast beef. It’s all I had on such short notice.”

“It looks wonderful,” he said and picked up his knife and fork. “Tastes wonderful, too.” He did, she noticed, clean his plate and she asked if he’d like some more but he declined. She offered a cup of coffee and he accepted. He was quiet during the meal and her comments went largely unanswered.

She told him about the window and he gave her a nod and a dark look. “Yes, I’ll be more careful," then asked, “The newspapers, would it be okay if I had a read?”

“Of course, take them. There’s a TV in the den if you’d like to watch anything tonight.”

“No, thanks, I’d just like something to read. I haven’t seen a paper in a long time.” He seemed to stop himself from speaking and looked away. Bee told him there was a library in the front parlor and he could help himself to anything on the shelves. She also told him there would be a paper each day if he’d like it. She usually left by nine and would be back by twelve for lunch.

He looked back at her and the look said more than the words. “Thank you.” That bothered her. Why would he be so grateful for a newspaper? Why, indeed? The poor man had not seen a paper in three months. He couldn’t tell her this, of course. He had to be careful what he said. At least with a newspaper perhaps he could figure out where in the States he was and what month it was. Sad isn’t it?

Bee thought about him as she did the dishes. He had an air about him, what was it, foreign? Well, he was from Australia. Something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Fear, he was frightened, yes. The FBI was protecting him, they said, and she wondered from what. Only a month, she would get through it and then figure out how to spend her money. She finished up the dishes, plopped down on her sofa, and turned on the TV. She liked to watch the news and then a movie before she turned in on Sundays. There had been a plane crash over the Potomac and she watched the coverage. A small private plane had exploded, all aboard killed. No details were given about the passengers or the pilot. She watched the other news and settled down for the movie

Chapter 3:

The next morning Bee backed her car out and went to work as usual. She left John reading the morning paper in her den. He had been a little more talkative this morning after she had asked him about Australia. When she had asked him how he could leave such a place he had closed his eyes and said only that he had no choice. She didn’t push him any further. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know all about her boarder, but she could tell her question had pained him and she didn’t want to cause him any more of that. Her morning went by as usual. She could tell by the date which customers would be in for their refills and listened to their gossip as she counted out pills. Someone had bought wheat bread instead of white last week, someone else had stopped going to the beauty salon. Once again she realized how careful she would have to be for the next month.

Several days of this sort of thing passed by. Bee stopped at the supermarket one afternoon and picked up a few things. She looked around and didn’t see anyone she knew as she stacked her purchases at the checkout. One day she picked up some toothpaste at the drug store for John and put it on her account. It wasn’t her brand and she hesitated before writing it down. She was becoming paranoid and laughed at herself. Who would care what brand of toothpaste she bought?

The week wore on until Friday when she left the drug store and entered the highway toward the City. The check was in her purse on the seat beside her. She worried about opening the account as they would want her address, an out of town address. What if there were questions asked? Then she thought of going to her mailbox and finding the statement from the new bank. Bill, the mailman, would notice and it would be mentioned that she was dealing with a different bank. She decided to rent a post office box in the City before going to the bank. At the post office she found herself using her middle name when filling out the paperwork. They wanted her home address and she made up a street address. After she left the post office she began to worry about what she had done. It would only be for a month, she told herself. She would get it all sorted out after John left. She had no problem opening the bank account using her middle name and post office address.

She was late coming home on Friday and stopped and picked up a pizza and a six pack of beer. No doubt this would be mentioned but by this time she didn’t care. She was tired and filled with anxiety over her actions. John was in the den when she came in. He had settled in this week, taking his meals with Bee, playing cards after dinner and watching a movie with her one night. The hunted look was gone from his eyes when he was with her. She found him good company when he forgot himself and laughed and joked with her. She had given up questioning him about himself. After all, the FBI wouldn’t tell her anything, why would he? But he had wanted to.

John found her easy to be with and to talk to. She was sweet and pretty with her big gray eyes and blonde curly hair. He had to be careful not to bring her into his nightmare. He remembered the look in her eyes when he had asked her if she had lived in the City all her life. They weren’t in the City, she had told him, they were in the Town. From the newspapers he'd thought he was in the City. He made some comment about thinking they were connected and she put him straight. Now at least he knew exactly where he was with the help of the map he’d found in the phone book. Then she had asked him where he would be going when he left at the end of the month. He’d said he couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know. She had looked at him strangely and turned her head.

By the second week Bee had become very protective of John. He was her secret, after all. And I will tell you she was also attracted to him. He was a very appealing man. Bee didn’t come in contact with many men her age. I really shouldn’t be telling this, but Bee had never been with a man, if you know what I mean. She had started looking forward to coming home and cooking his meals. She did his laundry and picked up little things for him, a crossword puzzle book, candy bars, and a bag of Doritos. The things she did for him did not go unnoticed by John. He found himself spending more time downstairs when she was home, his prison made more bearable with Bee there. He wanted to go outside and breathe the air. Go for walks. He let his guard down one sunny day and said how wonderful it would be to feel the sun on his face. When he looked into her eyes he saw tears there. Sorry, he’d said, and touched her face. He should never have touched her and he knew it immediately.

Halloween came and went. Bee had been surprised to have three tricksters knock on her door. They were the grandchildren of her neighbor. The rest of the mini Snicker bars would be eaten in a short period of time.She had a thing for Snickers. She offered one to John and he tried it but it was not something he liked. They spent the rest of the evening playing Scrabble. Bee lost. He knew so many more words, words she had never heard but he assured her they were Australian words.

It was in the third week she began thinking about Jim Beason. He said he would keep in touch and she hadn’t heard from him. She had no reason to contact him as things were working out fine at the house. Still, it bothered her. She mentioned it to John and he said he had no knowledge of what Jim had told her. Bee let it rest. She didn’t want to think about him leaving anyway. Movie nights were becoming the norm a couple days a week. Bee and John sat on the sofa and watched the screen. Some time during the course of a movie she would move a little closer to him and by the end of the movie his arm would find its way around her. “Did you enjoy the movie?” she would look up him and ask.

Down at the drug store her appearance was being discussed. The pharmacist might be putting on a little weight. She looked healthier, a bloom in her cheeks. Bee laughed it off and counted the hours until she could go home to the source of the bloom. Yes, I’m afraid she was falling in love with John. I will say he did nothing to discourage her or encourage her. He knew he was a temporary man in more ways than one. But he couldn’t help but respond to her. She had blossomed and was ready for picking.

The harvest came on Sunday morning. After finishing breakfast they had retired to the sofa to read the Sunday papers. Bee stretched out on the sofa, reading him the funny paper, had propped her feet in his lap. Unconsciously he began playing with her feet. When she looked over the paper at him, he tickled her feet and she began giggling. He tickled some more and it spread to her legs. Before long he was on top of her and the innocent tickle had become something else. It started with slow kisses and built up, his tongue probing her mouth, his hands under her shirt touching her breasts. He touched her between her legs and she moaned. Clothes were quickly discarded and he covered her with kisses. She was his and he started to enter her but stopped and drew back, a surprised look in his eyes. She held him closer and whispered, "Please don’t stop," so he plunged into her and took her to places she had only dreamed of.

They had become lovers and she took him to her bedroom to sleep at night. She cried when she spoke of his leaving and he shushed her with his kisses. And so it went for another week. The end was coming and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. She started devising plans to get him away, to hide him somewhere else where nobody could find him. He knew he couldn’t hide, not for long. He didn’t want to tell her anything that would draw her into his world. He was afraid for himself and he couldn’t put her in danger as well. The lovemaking continued and he found himself caught up in his feelings for her. He spent the hours while she was at work trying to figure a way out for both of them. He knew once he left the house he would be a marked man and it would only be a matter of time before the FBI found him, or worse, the others.

The month came to an end the second week in November. There still had been no contact from Jim Beason. Bee thought about just letting it ride then the thought of him showing up in the dark blue van and escorting John out of her life left her breathless. She talked to John and they decided the best thing was to contact Jim and see if he couldn’t just stay here for a while. He was safe wasn’t he? She dialed his number, said his name, but the phone immediately went dead. Thinking she had dialed the wrong number she tried again and again it went dead. She told John what had happened and he immediately became alarmed. He knew her line was being traced. It wouldn’t be long before somebody would show up and it wouldn’t be the FBI. He ran up the stairs and began throwing his clothes in a bag. Bee begged him to tell her what was going on.

“I can only tell you this, Bee, there are some really bad people after me. I don’t know what’s happened to Beason, but your phone has been traced. Somebody’s coming, luv, and it ain’t the cavalry. I have to get out of here and fast.”

“You’re not going without me, John. You need me to help you. I can drive you, take you wherever you want to go. I have some money.”

“I can’t do this to you, Bee. You’ll be in danger as soon as you walk out the door with me. I…I love you, Bee." He held her in his arms and when he released her his eyes were wet. His eyes were her undoing and she began to cry.

That cry was also his undoing for he told her to get her things, they would be traveling light. She packed a bag and loaded them in the back of her car. She ran back in to get her purse and John came out with her. He lay down in the back seat of her car and she headed out toward the highway and the City. Five minutes later the fire-bomb hit her house

Chapter 4:

Afraid to stop, Bee drove all night through the streets of the City. When the bank opened its doors she was the first one at the window. Withdrawing such a large amount of money was not possible in the short time she figured she had available so she took what she could get. John was now behind the wheel and it made Bee nervous. He was driving awfully fast once they hit the interstate. They stopped twice more in different towns and Bee made withdrawals from the branch banks before crossing the state line. There was no plan discussed but they were headed north. John kept getting off the interstate and taking back roads, then back on again. He varied his direction, west, east, and north. It was a futile attempt, but he was trying.

Deep in the bowels of the FBI headquarters a blip had come to life. The agent on whose computer it registered wasn’t particularly interested. He had another unidentified person to track. He occasionally noted the coordinates of the unidentified subject and went back to his primary concern.

Bee finally asked John who was after them if it wasn’t the FBI. Two foreign governments was all he would say. He also told her the FBI was probably looking for him, too. Bee didn’t understand it all and in her sleep-deprived state she couldn’t put two and two together. How, she wanted to know, did the FBI know he was on the run? That’s when he told her about the micro-chip the FBI had embedded between his shoulders. Bee was stunned the FBI would do that? “Well then, there is nowhere we can go, John. They’ll find you. Can we get it out, the micro-chip?”

“It's so tiny, Bee, you’d never find it. I think maybe if we can get across the border into Canada there might be a way out.” He looked over at her and took her hand.

“John, there’s the border crossing. I don’t have a passport.”

“Neither do I any more. We won’t go across that way. Canada has a long border. We’ll find a place to slip across. It can be done if we can get there before the feds are on me.”

Time, that’s all John needed was time. He did actually have a plan but I will tell you it was all based on ‘if’. If he could get across the border ahead of the bad guys. If he could reach the contacts he had in Canada. If they were still alive. Now they had been on the run for two and a half days, had not stopped except for gas and fast food. It was beginning to wear on both of them. They took turns driving and what fitful sleep could be gained strapped in a seatbelt. They had reached a town near the border and stopped for gas. Bee went inside, bought a bottle of water and picked up a magnet she thought was cute and stuck it on the dash board. John smiled at her purchase, never thinking what it could mean.

Down in the bowels at the FBI the agent took note the chip was nearing the border and thought he had better identify the carrier. Once he had the identity he was dumbfounded to find out no one had his case. The agents assigned to this particular carrier were all dead. Ripples were beginning to fan out now and something had to be done immediately to stop this carrier from crossing the border. There was nothing to do but call in the local agents, no time to send anybody from headquarters. Now the question was, how much to tell them?

John was studying a map while Bee was inside buying roast beef sandwiches and fries. He decided he needed to make a lateral move. He kept a close look out around the car at all times. He could spot an agent at a baseball game stadium. Experience was on his side. I suppose I should tell you a little more about John. He was a government agent, but in a special classification, not quite James Bond but close. He had held this classification for some time. I have not told you whose government he worked for, have I? Suffice it to say, the FBI were not his friends. Bee came out with her bags and jumped in the car. John had the motor running and they were off again. By the time he reached the top of the hill a black SUV had pulled into the parking lot of the fast food restaurant.

They were through the town and out on a country road when darkness fell. It was Bee’s turn behind the wheel and she was following the route mapped out by John. It was cloudy, no moonlight to help light her surroundings. She reached down and turned on her bright lights and noticed a vehicle behind her. It was pretty far back so she didn’t take notice of it again until she saw the headlights flash in her rear view mirror. She shook John awake and he immediately told her to get out of there fast. He cursed himself for falling asleep, for not being behind the wheel and for a lot of other things. Bee was driving as fast as she thought she could and stay on the road, which had begun to twist and turn up and down hills. The vehicle was never far behind them. She skidded hard around a hairpin turn and almost left the road but fortunately for them she made it. The SUV did not. Bee was near panic by now “John, I can’t do this!” she cried.

“Yes, you can! You can slow down a bit now. Come on, get it together. There you go. Now pull off the road up here and I’ll drive.”

She eased off the road and fell out of the driver’s seat. John helped her up and around to the passenger seat. She was shaking so hard she couldn’t stand. John strapped her in and started the car again. Unlike Bee, he was cool and running on an adrenalin rush. It was in this kind of a situation his mind was sharpest. “It will take a bit for them to get back on my trail. Bee, you’ve got to get yourself together. Take deep breaths; there you go.” They were coming to the outskirts of another little border town and John slowed his speed.

Bee’s breathing had returned to normal but she wondered if she would ever be normal again. She looked at the silly little magnet she had picked up. Her mind began to work again. “John, it was the micro-chip, wasn’t it? That’s how they knew where we were? Credit cards have micro chips right? Is it the same kind of thing?”

“Sort of, it’s a tracking device really. Why?”

“Well, one time I laid my credit card on a magnetic sheet and it wiped out the chip. I couldn’t use it again.” She picked up the magnet and looked at John. “Do you think it might work on your chip?”

John smiled, “I don’t know, Bee, but try it. We’ll know soon enough.” He leaned forward over the steering wheel and she placed the magnet under his sweater, pushed it up between his shoulders and moved it around up and down and across his shoulder blades. He didn’t hold out much hope but it gave her something to do. He skirted the town and turned north again. According to the map there was a town half in the USA and half in Canada. Maybe, just maybe, they could walk across the line unnoticed. He parked down the side of a convenience store and told Bee the rest would be on foot and to get whatever she wanted from her bag. They would have to leave the rest behind.

Bee rummaged around in her bag, taking only a few toiletries and a change of panties. She was looking forward to being able to take a bath somewhere and change her underwear. She stuffed them down in her purse and said she was ready. John threw the bags in the dumpster and locked the car, tossing the keys in the shrubbery planted along the side of the store. He slipped his raincoat on, took her hand and smiled.

They walked out and across the street and down the block. When a police car or dark colored SUV rode past them he would embrace her and kiss her. So far so good.

They came to a park beside a lake and sat down on a bench. John had picked up a city map and he wanted to figure out the best way to get across the border. Bee pulled out her phone to check the time. “Bee, see how far you can throw that phone in the lake okay?”

“What? Why, John? We may need it.”

“The minute you make a call they will trace it. Just toss it, luv.”

Bee threw it as far as she could, turned to John and smiled. It had been a wild and hairy journey. She was tired but excited. She was with John and that was the most important thing to her.

He pocketed the map and took her hand and led her out of the park toward a residential area. They walked up and down streets and then began down the alleys behind the houses, through backyards, through the maze of houses and barking dogs until they crossed over the border into Canada. He knew where he needed to be and this wasn’t it. They needed transportation of some sort and they needed to get farther from the border. He thought of stealing a car and looked hopefully inside a few as they walked down the street but in the end they caught a bus.

The bus took them to the nearest large City, which shall go unnamed. It might be easy for a person to get lost in a City of this size thought Bee. John decided to chance a phone call to one of his contacts. He got no answer so tried another. It rang a few times and was answered. The man asked him for the phone number he was calling from and left his house to use a pay phone. John and Bee waited in the bus station for the phone to ring. The man called back, saying he was afraid his phone was tapped and apologized. What John asked for was transportation, though later he would need papers for himself and Bee. The man told him where the transportation would be located in about an hour. He couldn’t help with the papers but told him who could.

John and Bee took a taxi to the address given him by the man. John was immediately on guard for one thing. It was dark and another the car was in a garage with the door open. Easy right? Just walk in open the door, there would be the keys and, bingo, you’re on your way. He paid the cab driver and after he was out of sight John found a brick and threw it through the back window of the car and ran as fast as he could to the other side of the street where he’d left Bee. The car exploded. Cross off that contact. They took off walking fast down the street. He stole a car on the next block and they left the city.

He was mentally chastising himself for making the call. Now they would know where he was. He had to get miles away from the City and fast. No more phone calls, no more contacts; from here on out he was on his own. He glanced over at Bee who was asleep in the passenger seat.

Bee didn’t know of course but she couldn’t have been in better hands in their present situation. John had been in worse places and gotten himself out. He had been caught in Europe, of course, pulled and pushed around and, as I told you before, tortured. His mistake was in trusting a co-worker he had known for fifteen years. He had given up trusting after that episode. Now there was only Bee on his side but John was smart and he was resourceful.

John ditched the car at a restaurant and picked up another after they had enjoyed a nice meal for a change. He drove it to the bus station, caught a taxi to the railway station and bought two tickets. They had a nice sleeper compartment complete with a small shower. After hanging the do not disturb sign on the door, they fell into the bunks and slept for 18 hours straight.

Chapter 5:

Bee woke to whiteness, she peered out the window and saw snow as far as she could see. Like John when he first arrived at her house, she had no idea where she was or what day it was. She checked on John who was still asleep in the upper bunk, then walked smiling into the tiny shower. Bee had been wearing the same jeans, camisole and black hoodie since she left home. She rinsed out her cami and underwear and hung them to dry. The jeans and hoodie would do until…until what, she wondered. She had jumped from her structured life into his life. There would be no more papers in the morning, no more trips to the drug store and listening to the mindless gossip. She smiled at the thought of the drug store customers. Oh, what they would tell if they knew what she had done.

John had been awake for some time, lying in the upper bunk starring at the ceiling. He had one thought and that was to get back to Australia. He would sort things out when he got there but he had to get there. He had a plan, no if’s this time. Ride the train as far west as they could, hop a plane to the coast, get Ronnie to create their new identities and passports and then a plane home. The only iffy, if you could call it that, was Ronnie, but John knew where to find him. When Bee came out of the bathroom all damp and pink he had another thought.

It was a good plan and it worked until they got to the coast. Ronnie wasn’t there anymore. John and Bee stopped in a pub for a drink and a think. Somebody had taken over Ronnie’s business; he just needed to find out who. He would have to be careful asking around. This wasn’t the pub to do it in. He found a room for the night and told Bee to stay put.

He headed for the older part of the waterfront, dipping in and out of bars until he found what he was looking for. It cost him a fair amount of money up front. He didn’t trust the counterfeiter as far as he could throw him. John was pretty sure the guy had recognized him. He handed the man the two photos he and Bee had made earlier in the day, his eyes taking in everything in sight and wondering about things not in sight. He sat back in the shadows watching him work. The passports were very good as were the driver’s licenses. He did good work. It was a shame, really, what John knew he had to do. It came quick and unexpected and quiet. John retrieved his money and left with his papers.

The next morning they bought two duffle bags, a few clothes and two tickets to Australia. The passports were no problem. They were Mr. and Mrs. Vance Morrow when they stepped off the plane in Sydney. John knew he couldn’t go back to his apartment until he got his little problem sorted out so they checked into a hotel.

You can imagine how tired Bee had become, All she wanted to do was sleep and after a rest himself, John left her in bed. He dressed and left the hotel to walk the streets and think. Now if you think he had become complacent about the bad guys after him, you’d be wrong. His little problem here in Australia could be fixed once he got to the right person. He bought himself some sunglasses, little protection against what he faced, but it gave him a certain sense of mystery. He also bought himself a pack of cigarettes, something he had not enjoyed in a little over four months. A pint followed the cigarette. Yes, he was getting back in the feel of things. He was home...but not quite. Tomorrow he would see Daniel.

Bee was enjoying the luxury of a long soak in the tub. The flight from The Town now over she was beginning to think about things. She knew John had an apartment here in Sydney but didn’t understand exactly why they couldn’t go there. They had been in the hotel for three days now and while it was nice, there wasn’t anything for her to do here. John would get up in the morning and have breakfast with her and leave for a few hours, come back to check on her then leave again. He only told her that he was seeing some people to try and straighten something out. Things would get better once that was accomplished. Once while getting up in the night to go to the bathroom she found an identification tag on the bedside table, his photo was on it but his name wasn’t Smith. Sliding back in the bed she realized, of course, the FBI wouldn’t have given her his real name, but still it had come as a shock. She thought he might have told her. There was much she didn’t know about John.

Daniel

Daniel had been surprised to find John was back in Sydney and had agreed to meet with him at a pub. Daniel, I will tell you, was John’s superior and the only one John was willing to talk with at the moment. John told him about the co-worker’s double talk. Daniel was at first suspicious as you would be hearing something unexpected about someone you’ve known for a long time, someone you trusted. Daniel also trusted John and was willing to put a plan in place to root out the mole, if indeed he was a mole. He would also offer John protection until the thing was sorted out. John at first declined protection but Daniel insisted; he would later welcome it.

I have toyed with the idea of telling you what happened that sent John on his tumultuous journey. If I do you will know who he is and we can’t let that happen.

John and Bee were on the move again. A small apartment had been procured for them in another City far away from Sydney and far away from anyone John had ever known. It had been determined to be a safe haven for now. Bee was excited about the move, hoping perhaps some normalcy would return to her life. She shopped for food, flowers, a few knick knacks; she was nesting. John would walk down to the newsagents every morning and buy newspapers to read while they had their coffee. Life had fallen into a routine.

She met the neighbors in the laundry area and began to feel at home. John had instructed her in what she could reveal about herself and him. They still had to be very careful, he had said. They were still Mr. and Mrs. Vance Morrow. She was happy to see John had made friends with the man across the hall and the one who lived in the apartment beneath them. One or the other seemed to go with him when he went out.

One afternoon they were on the sofa with their feet in each other’s lap, reading, when there came a knock on the door. Bee hoisted herself up and opened the door. There was no one there but a small package had been left. She picked it up, walked back to the dining area and set it on the table. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Vance Morrow. As she undid the string, John shouted at her to stop. She stepped back just as their door opened. It was the man across the hall. He shouted at her not to touch the package so she backed away with her eyes wide. John was putting his shoes on and the man told her to get her things quickly. She and John rushed to the bedroom, threw some clothes in their duffle bags and were out the door within ten minutes. The man came with them and they stopped downstairs for the man in the apartment beneath them. He grabbed a few things and they ran across the car park to a vehicle. Just then the whole side of the apartment building blew out, flames shooting for the sky and black smoke billowing out the windows. Their cover was blown.

The din of sirens faded behind them as they left the City. Bee had broken out in uncontrollable sobs. She and John were in the back seat where he held her, petting and making comforting sounds. The man in the passenger seat was on the phone. He turned to John, a look passing between them. John nodded his head and then rested it on the back seat, closng his eyes. They were taken to a small airfield well away from the City. The driver ran over to the office and shortly a man in coveralls came out, looked toward the vehicle and walked into the hanger. The small plane backed out and they gathered their bags and boarded. The two men came with them and they settled down for a flight to an unknown destination.

Curt

The two men, let's give them names, after all they are important to John and Bee. Curt and Foley were in their late twenties and early thirties. Both men were highly trained and were assigned to John and Bee to protect them with their lives. Curt had sun streaked light brown hair and blue eyes. He wore his hair longish with a beard. Foley was clean shaven, his reddish-brown hair shorter but falling over his forehead, and he had green eyes. He was the driver of the vehicle and the younger of the two. They were of similar height and muscular build. They were especially chosen for this assignment by Daniel. He could trust these men; they were his sons.

Foley

It was well into the night when the small plane landed on an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Bee, still in shock from the explosion, had said little during the flight. The plane taxied down the runway and disappeared into the stars. John took their bags and followed Curt and Foley to the small hanger. Bee sat down in a folding chair, waiting for whatever was to come next. John, Curt and Foley were over near a vehicle parked in the hanger. They seemed to be arguing about something, John with his hands on his hips and the two men standing with their legs apart and hands behind their back. Foley got in the Range Rover and started the motor. Curt opened the back doors, all the while starring down John. He finally turned, came over for Bee and picked up their bags. Bee looked out the windows, a darkness covering the land as far as she could see, with no lights anywhere.

Foley slowed the Rover. “Look, Bee, look up ahead.” He was pointing ahead in the headlights. Bee sat up on the edge of the seat.

“Oh, kangaroos!” She leaned over the seat to see. There were a lot of them crossing the road ahead. She turned to John, who was smiling at her. “We’re still in Australia!”

“Where did you think you were, Bee?” He reached over and tousled her hair. She still tried to see the roos as they passed on into the darkness. Foley increased his speed.

Bee snuggled against John. “I didn’t know where we were, to tell you the truth.” He held her close against his side.

“You’ll soon see where we will be for a while. We’re almost there.” John settled back in the seat and closed his eyes. He felt like a big black cloud followed him full of menacing shapes and sounds and the last place he wanted it to follow was just down the drive ahead.

Curt was on the phone again, a short conversation, then he turned around to John. “It’s going to be okay, John, don’t worry.”

The headlights showed a dwelling ahead, long and low to the ground, some trees around the house. That’s about all Bee could make out. Foley pulled the Rover up to the front porch and parked. They all got out and went inside into a fairly large room dominated by a man in a wheelchair. He would dominate any room, I’m told, a man in his sixty’s, gray hair, brush cut, peering over his glasses with a ready smile and a hearty hello.

John crossed the room and embraced the man. They spoke for a moment and John motioned for Bee to join him. “Bee, this is my father, John Smith.” (Our John was a junior, of course. I told you about the names, didn’t I?) Bee’s eyes widened and she held out her hand. John Sr. took it but pulled her to him for a hug. Sadly his legs were missing below the knees. She stepped back and the other two men, Curt and Foley, also embraced John Sr.

John Sr.

I know this is beginning to sound fantastic but it’s true, I assure you. No, this is not a family business. I’ll tell you how it came about. John Sr. and Daniel are brothers, of course. You probably already guessed that. They were in military intelligence together so a natural move was the…well, let’s call it the secret service. John Sr. was injured in a blast in the middle-east long before the present situation. His career was basically over. After a long recovery period he found himself behind a desk for awhile. He had recently retired, however Daniel kept him up to date on the state of the business. He was well aware of his son’s situation and was mightily glad to see him walk in the door. John Jr., Curt and Foley had followed the same path to the disappointment of their father and uncle. This information was all revealed to Bee later during their stay.

John Sr. proposed drinks, tea, coffee, beer, whiskey? They went about helping themselves, Bee was shown the kitchen where she put a kettle on and fixed herself a cup of tea, the men preferring beer. She sat in the room listening for a while to their idle chatter until John decided she needed to go to bed. She was shown a bedroom and her bag brought in. She undressed and lay in the bed trying to fall asleep. The men had important things to talk about she reasoned. John had left her on her own.

ON TO PART 6

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