“It’s a three-year-old Tiercel, Canadian raised and trained by Simone Robespoint,” I said, naming the top falconry expert in the world. His eyes lit up at the sight. I handed him a hawking glove and he took the bird out of the cage, opening its wings to admire the 6-foot wingspan. Quietly, I jerked my head and the PA and I left him to his new toy.
My chauffeur was waiting out front for both of us; he held the door open as I slipped into the backseat. Twenty minutes later, we were at the airport boarding the Lear for the States. I slept the whole trip back, only waking up when my PA nudged me as the wheels touched down at Dulles. Looking out the windows, I recognize the terminal. “Why Dulles?”
“Socked in and everything’s been rerouted. Big storm front, twisters and winds in excess of 100 mph out West. The Colonel suggested Dallas, but that’s being hit by Hurricane Ethan.”
“How long will we be stuck here?” The Rohan cover was good only as long as this evening, they had programmed it thinking I was going to be back at the Zoo by 5 PM.
“Colonel says to shut down and sleep.”
“He doesn’t want me to eavesdrop and report?” I could feel the falcon tugging at my awareness, the faint shimmer of air under my wings as we flew alongside a galloping Arab horse.
“No. Too soon. Shut down as soon as we reach the hotel.”
“Yes, I understand,” I said. I let him take charge of everything. Unloading the luggage, calling the limo service, the hotel that we were coming, the arrival where armed agents met and escorted us to the penthouse suites reserved for NSA agents. Sat where he told me, ate the light meal he put in front of me, bathed, dressed in robe and shorts sitting in front of a blank TV screen until he would tell me to go to bed and sleep.
“Creepy, isn’t he?” My PA asked, grinning. “Just like a robot. I can get him to do almost anything.”
“Almost anything?” The agent with the blonde hair asked. “Can you get him to suck your dick?”
“Why? You want to watch?” Parker asked with a shrug. “I’m not into that. Besides, if the Colonel asks, he’ll tell him everything.”
“Tell him not to.”
“Won’t work. You can’t make him break the program responses. Lying to the Colonel is one of them.” He stared at me. “Danny, you like sex?”
“I like what you tell me to like,” I said flatly.
“Peter’s here thinks you’re sexy. Wants to fuck you.”
“Is that what you want me to do, Parker?”
My PA laughed. “No, Danny. Go to bed. Sleep. Wake up at 0600.”
I stood up, detoured around them, and laid down on the bed. Was asleep in minutes.
I dreamed. That troubled me. I never remembered dreaming; it wasn’t one of those things either Parker, the Colonel or Doctor Andrews had told me to do. Once, a woman had asked me if I’d dreamed of her but now, she seemed more dream than real.
I dreamed I was in the room, a cell. But not a prison. More like a refuge. Full of light and no shadows everywhere. A plush red recliner in which a lanky teenager lay, all arms and legs. He looked sad until he saw me. When he did, he leaped from the chair and grabbed my hand, pulling me forward.
Danny! You’re back!
“I was gone?” He looked like me, but younger.
I don’t know how long it’s been, Daniel, but it’s been a long time. You look older.
“I’m dreaming,” I said. “I never dream.”
I’ve tried to reach you before, Daniel. I know what we have to do. We have to escape, he seemed excited and eager.
“Escape from what?”
They’re trying to use us, Danny, to make us someone were not.
“I don’t know who I am,” I told him. “I’m a program they’ve downloaded. I’m not real.”
I know, he said sadly. I think I’m all that’s left of the real us. We’re dying. All my memories are fading. If you don’t run away and let me out, we’ll both die.
“You’re a dream,” I said and turned over in bed. Heard Parker, snoring next to me. He wouldn’t leave me alone and actually succeeded in waking me up. I looked over at Parker and quietly slid out of bed. “Now what?” I asked and he told me.
Chapter 25
I let the voice in my head make my decisions; he got me as far as the airport taxi lines and told me to ask for Chase Nursing Home. The driver looked at me. “Where is it? What city?”
“I don’t know,” I said helplessly and waited for his revelation. The driver sighed and Googled it.
“Chase Nursing and Rehab in DuPont on DuPont Circle?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Okay.” He pulled out eliciting a chorus of beeps and I opened Parker’s wallet to inspect the contents. My own wallet, passport, birth certificate were locked up in his aluminum briefcase. Parker had a platinum American Express, a black see-through card with a chip in it, driver’s license from Nebraska and a scan key that said US Department of Agriculture. Oh, and a thousand bucks cash. All hundreds.
Danny and the driver were silent the trip out there and I kept myself entertained by watching the meter rack up the dollars. None of the way look familiar. Expressway, Beltway gave way to a two-lane country highway out in the sticks with big trees, forests, up and down hills and vistas I should have found exhilarating. He pulled into a gated driveway in front of a two-story fancy building designed like a southern plantation of rose red brick. Ivy climbed up the white columns and portico. I opened the car door, and gave him a hundred.
“You want me to wait?” The boy in my head hesitated. No, he said and I echoed him. “Okay.” He peeled out keeping the change, a hefty forty dollar tip.
“Now what?”
Someone I know lives here, he said I could see him squinting, rubbing his head as if he could pull it out. The front door opened and several people walked out saying hello. One asked me if they could help me. I realized they were wearing scrubs with pretty print tops. Must be employees.
“I used to know someone here,” I said slowly.
“Used to? Did they pass?”
“Never mind,” I turned on my heel and headed for the driveway, seeing the parking lot out back. It was full of cars.
He was frantic. Please, he begged. Don’t go yet! My uncle. My uncle lives here! Uncle Town! I remember him, he told me about the vault!
“Uncle Town,” I said, and the girl’s face brightened.
“Townsley. Townsley Hutton. He was so nice. He was your uncle?”
“Was?” My mouth dried instantly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and laid her hand on my arm. “He passed away two years ago. He was eighty-eight. In his sleep.”
“Oh.” I waited, felt his crushing disappointment. “Will you call me a cab?”
“What’s your name? We would have notified you as next of kin, but only Senator De Rosier was listed.”
At that name, he shrieked in my head. I know! I know! That’s my name! His emotion was so great that it felled me. They carted me inside the home, gave me water and wanted to call someone. Instead, they had the head RN, the Director of Nursing check me out. She seemed puzzled when she discovered Parker Ames ID in my pocket. He looked nothing like me.
Pushing her away, I managed to get up, asked again for her to call me a taxi. I didn’t know where I could go, my inner voice told me it wasn’t safe to linger, especially with him in such a state of euphoria. I was afraid Parker would track me down and put me back into my prison cell.
“Wait here, Mister Ames,” the DON said. “I’ll call you a cab. You should rest, you’ve had a shock.”
She left me on the couch in her office and almost without thinking, I followed her in the mind of a Greyhound that slunk after her, from where it had been hiding under her desk. She didn’t travel far, just two doors down to what I saw was the Social Worker’s office and once inside, she made a beeline for the phone.
I heard her call as clearly as if I were standing next to her, she had her hand on the greyhound’s sleek, bony skull.
/> “Hello? Is this Agent James? You told me to call if anyone came making inquiries about Townsley. Yes, a young man. His papers say his name is Parker Ames, but the license doesn’t match. No, 6’2”, blue eyes, brown hair. Very good looking. Dimples in both cheeks, slim, but well-muscled. 20s. He looks tired, dazed, and not well. Bit of a French accent. He seemed stunned when I told him about Townsley. Shall I hold him here?”
I got up and made my way back to the front door in the lobby and found it locked with one of those electronic key code boxes, but my luck was in as the CNAs came back from cigarette breaks. She let me out and I hurried down the drive, ignoring both my exhaustion, Danny’s frantic shouts in my head and the conversation going on in the room with the greyhounds.
I found a crow and it showed me a way through the woods, bypassing the road. Of course, he could fly and I could not. The woods didn’t seem to be my natural element. I tripped over my own feet, slipped on mossy rocks, fell into icy streams until I was soaked, scraped and a bloody mess of ineptitude. I sat down finally, too tired and disheartened to go another step, when a big buck stepped out of the underbrush to regard me. Then Danny spoke to me. Wow. What a rack! He must be a twenty pointer! The deer coughed. An eerie sound I’d never heard before as he lowered his head to the ground and knelt at my feet. Get on, Daniel, Danny said. He’ll carry you.
I protested, I was too big.
He’s strong. Mule deer. He can carry your weight for a little while. Get on. There are people after you.
“Who? What people?” Alarm woke me from my stupor. I would not go back into slavery now that I knew I was enslaved.
Parker Ames. The Colonel. The man she called. Her security staff. They’re all at the home. I’m tracking your footprints, you’re very tired and left a trail a blind man could follow.
Laboriously, I climbed to my feet and gingerly slid my legs over the deer’s back, holding onto its rack for balance. It climbed to its feet, shook as if to adjust my weight and took off at a bone jarring trot that made my balls ache. I grimaced and tried to find a less pulverizing position, only to hear Danny’s groans of laughter.
Even carrying me, the buck moved like a graceful shadow, eating up miles through the woods until he dropped me on the outskirts of a small town named Pine Tree. He left me in their city park.
I found a bench and stretched out, letting the sun warm me. Thought about a nap. What a wonderful idea it was and leaned on my arm, watching the inside of my eyelids.
Woke to the tapping of a police baton on the bench and the blue uniformed officer who told me I couldn’t sleep in the park. Asked for ID and I couldn’t hand over the license. For one thing, it was clearly not me and the other was the DON had the entire wallet in her possession, save for the cash I’d stuck in my pants pocket.
Danny told me to run. I told him to shut up, eliciting some nasty words from the cop. Within minutes, he was convinced I was crazy when he heard me talking to someone who wasn’t there.
He hauled me up by my elbow. I reacted instantly, dropping him with two well-placed blows. Stared helplessly at the unconscious officer. “Now what, Brainiac?” I asked Danny. He told me to run.
A man running through the park posed no problem. There were a dozen of us doing so, even though my attire wasn’t quite up to jogging gear, I only elicited a few stares. The path wound through the trees, paved and with good footing. Was even clean of dog poop. Every hundred feet was one of those dispensers with plastic bags and paper towels that read ‘Please Scoop Your Pet’s Poop.’ Boy, it took a real genius to come up with that one.
I ran only a few hundred yards; the nap I’d acquired on the bench had only teased me. I was still exhausted and I think Danny hadn’t woken up yet, he was curiously quiet since he’d told me his last name.
I found curiosity was my second strongest emotion, fear being the first. Curiosity brought me into town where I found a small Starbucks on the corner where crepe myrtles and Spanish oak trees made a sort of cathedral whose cloisters I marveled over. The streets were cobble-stoned, lamps with real gaslights and I almost expected to see ladies in long gowns and mob caps.
The door had an old-fashioned bell on it that tinkled as I entered. The smell of coffee got my eyes functioning. I shuffled up to the counter, ordered a double shot of espresso Mocha Grande, chocolate croissant and snagged a computer terminal at the Wi-Fi bar. Googled Townsley Hutton. Senator De Rosier. None of it seemed relevant to me. No matter how the little kid in my head thought.
“My name is Daniel Atkinson,” I mumbled and licked my fingers. He didn’t deny it in my head. “Danny boy? Are you there?” I asked. “Can you hear me?” I tried to reach him. Felt hot stares on the back of my neck. Turned slowly and saw the counter staff staring at me. Cleared my throat, picked up my coffee cup and left quietly for downtown where I’d Googled the directions to the bus station.
Chapter 26
Staring through the bars at the most famous home in the nation, I admired the beautiful façade of the White House, the South lawn and the graceful columns. Fall was inching its way towards me, the air had a crispness that I could feel under the thin jacket I’d picked up at the bus station. Stolen from a fat teenager with a guitar strapped to his back and headed for Nashville.
There were security everywhere, Secret Service agents with holstered weapons and ear-buds. As I watched, a convoy of black Cadillac Escalades approached the gates, showed their credentials and were let inside. I didn’t know why I was here at the White House, only that I was drawn here by some compulsion.
Warm breath on my neck. I froze, hugging the steel bars of the fence. Freshly painted black. “Daniel,” Parker Ames said. He sounded pissed. He punched me twice, short hooking blows to the kidneys that smashed my face into the steel. I cried out, but the pain took my breath away. He supported me so I didn’t fall and half carried me off towards a small car parked down the street.
“Where’s my cash, you fucker?” He growled, which I took to mean he’d found his wallet at the home. He searched my pockets, found the cash and replaced it in the expensive titanium case. Threw me in the backseat of a small rental car. I drew my legs up and kicked at him, pushing him onto the curb. He slipped; his leg went under and was jammed beneath the curb and the undercarriage. He was crying out in pain.
I leaped over him, felt him grab at my thigh and a sharp stick into the deep muscle. Ran down the sidewalk and my legs didn’t want to work. I felt drunk, reached for my thigh, and felt a hard lump under the sting, dislodging a needle. I threw the syringe to the cement. Heard shouts behind me. More men were coming, men in suits and uniforms. Police. Soldiers. I sobbed. “Danny? Where are you? I need help! ”
Fell onto my hands. Got up and ran like one of those stumbling idiots in horror movies. Did I even see horror movies? My mind was not my own, I was inside a thousand lies all it once and it terrified me.
They screamed at me. Back at the fence, I vaguely understood it was a barrier I needed to get over. Tried to climb it and heard them, shouting to stop. People running everywhere. Things hitting me, sharp blows to the arms, legs, body. I fell, curled up in a ball and covered my head, crying while they argued over me.
Heard another car pull up and a sharp voice order the cluster fuck to break up. A man’s voice, deep with an authoritative tone and a vaguely Northern accent. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing we can’t handle, Agent James,” the man I knew as Parker spoke up. “Here’s my credentials, he’s one of ours. He’s a vet just had a PTSD episode.”
“And that required a brawl with Metro PD, men and agents?”
“He’s been on the loose since last night. Assaulted an officer in Bradley Park, robbed a Starbucks and scared the customers. Stole my wallet.”
“Tell your boss he needs to keep better control of his people. This isn’t going to make the President happy.”
A woman’s voice interrupted, “Jake, see if he’s okay. They hit him pretty hard.”
I peeked between my
clenched hands and saw a neat pair of feminine legs emerge from the driver side rear seat. She was in nylons with lime green heels, a knee length skirt in a soft butter yellow with a pale green blouse under a stunning hand knit Scottish Isle sweater cowled up to her delicate chin. Above that, two piercing green eyes with arching black brows. Felice Rickover, the President’s daughter tried to see me.
My face was swelling, several blows from fists and batons had hit my cheek, I could taste blood in my mouth. Vision was diminished down to one eye. Most of the pain was ebbing away. I didn’t know if it was because I was dying or because of what Parker had stuck me with. I could barely see her. Danny took that Moment to awaken. He stiffened in my head as he stared at the tall man restraining Parker.
Jake, he whispered. His eyes, my eyes turned to the woman. Girl.
Felice, he shouted and I winced.
“Danny, shut up,” I pleaded. “Too loud. In my head. You’re too loud.”
Parker kicked me. Full in the face, caught the tip of my chin. I felt my neck snap back; my contacts pop out of my eyes. Light, sound, and sparks exploded in my head and drowned out Danny’s screams. Ground out everything in white noise. Velvet blackness.
Chapter 27
“What’s your name, son?” The man asked me. I looked up at him. He looked weird, like a cubist portrait of a man. Or I was looking out of one eye, the other obscured by something cold and white. An ice pack.
I was in an…office. When I should clearly be in a hospital room. Thought about his question. What was my name? Asked the voice in my head. “Danny?”
“Your name is Danny?”
I groaned. Pain was coming back. I didn’t know so many parts could hurt so badly, so… individually.
“Tell us your name, Danny. The Doctor will give you some morphine and you can sleep.”
“Fingerprints? Did you take his fingerprints? If he’s been in the services, his fingerprints will come up.”
“If this kid’s old enough to have served, he can’t have been over for more than a few months. He looks like he’s barely 18. Why is Parker Ames so set on getting you back, Danny? He’s NSA, one of their top agents. Why is he babysitting a PTSD vet?”
“He’s making some big noises to the agency about getting him back.”