|
The "Fasten
Seat Belt" sign came on along with the cabin chime intended to get
the passenger's attention. The
loud speaker crackled, followed by the 767's pilot.
"Ladies
and Gentlemen, we are starting our approach into the greater Pittsburgh
area. The weather outside this morning is a pleasant
eighty-four degrees with light winds.
We should be on the ground in about twelve minutes. Thank you for flying World Airways." The speaker clicked off. Diane Weeks shifted in her seat. It was scarcely thirty‑six hours since
her dinner date with Major Jastremski, and it had been very busy.
She had returned
to Stanford, to the Physics department the following morning after her
dinner with Jastremski. The Major
had been a good sport, overall, and was really quite gentlemanly. She found Elliot still in his office pouring
over the data from Blunderbuss, Europe, and the basement prototype She stood for a second hoping he would look
up, but he just kept scribbling on his note pad.
"Elliot?"
She said quietly. He looked up
startled then said, "Ah good,
good. You're back. How soon can you move to Pennsylvania?"
"What
do you mean 'move to Pennsylvania'? I
have no intention of moving to Pennsylvania.
I've never even been to Pennsylvania." He looked at her unflinching. God,
she thought, he is not kidding.
"Don't
worry about money, the department will pay for everything, but I need
you there yesterday. How long
will it take you to get there?"
Moving, she thought. There
was so much to do. What about her apartment and her cat?
"I .It
will take time. I'm not sure how
long it."
"That
is too long. I've already booked
you on the red-eye tomorrow night. Your
flight leaves at ten-forty, has a brief layover in Chicago, and you arrive
in Pittsburgh at nine-twenty Saturday morning.
"Why in
the Hell Pittsburgh?", she blurted out.
"What about my apartment, my furniture, my cat! I just can't pack an over night bag and move
clear across the country, just like that!"
Elliot softened
up his attitude and regarded her fondly.
"I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it to come out quite like that.
Don't worry about your apartment.
We will keep paying rent on it while you're gone.
It will be waiting for you when you return.
It's just that this is so important.
Something is happening in Pennsylvania, something extraordinary. I need you there to help us locate it."
Elliot pulled
out a document and said "look here, I've arranged a credit card for
you. No limit, in your name. Anything you need just go get it. The card will be ready tomorrow afternoon."
Elliot looked more intently at her, "Diane Please, this is
a once in a lifetime opportunity, just do it."
Diane felt
a myriad of emotions. What an
imposition! But he had done so much for her. If he thought Pennsylvania was the place to
be, now, then she should go. She
knew it was the spot his calculations showed was the epicenter of the
Blunderbuss event, but she wanted to see his calculations just the same. She resigned herself to this bizarre turn of
events and walked over to Elliot. She
put her hand on his shoulder.
"Show
me what you found."
They spent
the next hour-and-a-half going over the data Elliot had decoded. He did the triangulation calculations using
all the information at his disposal.
He pinpointed the 'event' to within three miles with a ninety‑five
percent probability. The map they
looked at was a close up map of northwest Pennsylvania, about a hundred
miles north of Pittsburgh.
Elliot had
drawn a small circle in red, six miles in diameter, with the calculated
exact spot of the event in the center.
It fell right on top of the dot proclaiming to be Warrenton, Pennsylvania.
"Even
a small town is a lot of ground Elliot." Diane pointed out. "Besides, it seems unlikely that a crippled
spaceship would be inside a town, doesn't it?"
"Yes,
but look here", he pulled out a map of Warrenton County that detailed
the immediate area. This map also
showed Warrenton in enough detail to list individual street names, and
some of the surrounding countryside.
This map had
a dot, the point of exact calculation, surrounded by a circle. The central dot was just outside the town,
across the Allegheny River. Elliot
pointed to the areas within the circle but outside the Borough boundaries.
"This
is the most likely area to find the ship", Elliot told her. She studied the map and Elliot's calculations.
There was little doubt: Elliot had done his usual thorough job.
The site of the 'Blunderbuss event' was in or near Warrenton, Pennsylvania.
"I've
got to go pack", She said simply and left the building. Diane left the University and drove to her apartment. She majored in Physics in the first place because
she was good at it. She understood
things, could do the math, and could fathom those abstract concepts that
separate a theoretical thinker from the bulk of humanity. She was not at all sure of her abilities as
a spy. She never expected Physics
to be exciting, just complicated. This
was more complicated than she had bargained for.
The plane landed.
After a long and tiring flight, she was relieved that leaving a
plane was a lot easier these days than getting onto one.
Anti-terrorist passanger scans seemed to just be getting more bizzare
and disjointed by the week. If it went much further, people would be flying
naked. She rented a car, a LeBaron-,
and drove north along highway fifty-one once she was out of the city. The scenery was spectacular. The whole trip seemed like a Norman Rockwell
painting of rural America. Gentle
rolling hills clothed in the most magnificent green, green that she had
never imagined. Forest and farmland
seemed to coexist in a mutual symbiotic arrangement of interdependence.
At one point
along the trip she saw a barn, the side painted in breathtaking reality
to show the lunar landscape in the foreground and an earth-rise coming
up behind it as viewed by the first men on the moon.
As she drove the living landscape of an Americana gone bye rolled
past her. She had never seen anything so beautiful in
her life.
Diane pulled
into a roadside hamburger stand just past the small town of Elliot, Pa.
(how appropriate she thought) to get a bite to eat and to give a chance
to study the road map again. She
had been certain she was lost three times already.
It may be pretty, but it's not very organized.
She studied the map then decided route 62 was her best bet, but
she would have to use about four other roads to get to it. The kid who took her order looked to be about
sixteen and had a horrible case of acne.
The general
atmosphere of the place did little to lend itself to pleasant dining either.
The grill area was awash in flies.
Flies crawled over the counters and into the condiment jars (yuck!
that's disgusting! Where's the health Department when you need them, she wondered)
but the chocolate malt was very good, and very cold. That was important. Elliot
never mentioned the humidity. It
was hellish outside the air-conditioned comfort of the LeBaron.
She decided
to ask a local about the best route to drive to Warrenton. She approached a man sitting at the next bench over. His pick-up truck had pulled into the stand's
parking lot about minute after she had. It was a late model, full sized truck, and looked nearly new.
She looked at him a moment. He seemed wrong somehow. His clothes were what she expected of a man
used to working for a living: plain button down shirt, old blue jeans,
a little chain holding an ancient leather wallet.
But his hair was short and styled.
He seemed like a business executive; a man used to three-piece
suits but dressed up as a working stiff.
She dismissed the observation as so much paranoia
"Excuse
me?", she said little shyly, "But could you tell me the best
way to get to Warrenton?" He
looked up at her. His faded blue
eyes were intense.
"Warrenton? Why would a pretty little thing like you want
to go to that place?"
She stammered, color rising to her cheeks,
"Oh, I
have family there. I've never
been there though, see, they just moved there last year (shut up Diane,
her brain said) and I'm just going to visit."
That was awful she said to herself.
You were right, a spy you're not!
The truck driver cracked a smile then immediately put it away.
"You got
a map?" Diane nodded and
pulled out her road map, not the one with the red circles on it, that
was in her luggage. He took it
from her and spread it open. He
frowned as he looked at it.
No little red
dot, Sergeant Jacobs thought, disappointed.
Then, "well your best
bet would be to take this way here."
He pulled a pen from the shirt's breast pocket and started tracing
the route on the map. He finished
the trace and handed the map back to Diane.
"That ought to put into town in about an hour and a half".
Then he added "Family eh?
You know I'm going to be up in Warrenton near the end of the week,
got to pick up a load of picture tubes from the Sylvania plant there.
How about you and me go out dancing?"
Diane smiled at him nervously.
"Well
that sounds very nice but I think my boyfriend would object." Better, much better thought Sergeant Jacobs.
"Well, no harm in asking", he said congenially.
"No harm
at all, and thank you so much for your help, bye now." Diane hurried to her car, anxious to get away
from there.
"No trouble,
no trouble at all", the man yelled after her. "Hell, it's my job", he said to himself.
He watched
as the LeBaron left the parking lot and sped from sight. He got up and went to his truck and climbed in. He seized the radio mic, not your average CB
but a military radio. He clicked
the button,
"Bravo
five to Bravo Leader, Bravo five to Bravo Leader, do you copy? Over."
The speaker gave static for a second, then
"This
is Bravo Leader; we copy Bravo five, what is your status? Over."
"Report
contact with the farmer's wife, repeat, contact with the farmer's wife. The objective is target four, I repeat, the
objective is target four."
"Roger,
we copy that target four. Do you
know her route? Over."
"Affirmative
Bravo Leader, The farmer's wife is taking the preferred route, over."
"Roger
that Bravo five. We will alert
Bravo two, over and out."
Jacobs sat
back with the satisfaction of a job well done.
He didn't know why intelligence wanted this woman trailed, or why
there were strict instructions not to interfere with her, but he had done
his job and it made him happy.
Diane referenced
her map again. She was following
the route the truck driver had laid out for her.
She just passed through the town of Kane. The scenery had been fields and farms with stands of trees dispersed
among them, but now it was solid trees. They came right up to the roadway, so thick you could not see ten
feet into them. Their canopies
on either side of the road made it seem as if she was driving through
a very long tunnel. She never
really believed a place like this could exist.
It was so fairy tale'ish,. deep
and foreboding. She knew it was only just past noon, but she
considered turning on her headlights in this twilight of shadow caused
by the trees.
She expected
that at any minute a giant troll would jump out of the woods and demand
payment or make her suffer a gruesome fate.
What would Elliot say if he knew you were giving in to such primitive
and childish thoughts? She wondered
if modern trolls took MasterCard or Visa.
Maybe not, but don't leave home without it!
She laughed to herself. She
passed the intersection of route 62 and route 6.
A signpost assured her:
Sheffield 12
Warrenton 26
She reached
Sheffield, the forest ended abruptly and the town took its place. As Diane entered the town, she passed a pizza
shop. She barely noticed as a
non-descript late model gray pick up truck pulled onto the highway behind
her.
She reached
Warrenton and took the bypass as Elliot had recommended. As she traveled around the town, she could
not help noticing the huge oil refinery on the opposite bank of the Allegheny
River from the bypass. One large
tank was adorned with "HALSTEAD OIL REFINING" amid all the towers
and pipes.
As she neared
the west end of town, a sign said this was the right exit for the Holiday
Inn. She took the exit and drove towards the hotel.
The gray pick-up truck took the same exit and entered the parking
lot behind her.
Diane went
to the office, registered, and got her room key for room 114, ground level,
around to the back. She maneuvered
the LeBaron into the parking space directly in front of her room, grabbed
one of her two bags out of the trunk, and went inside.
It was a pleasant room, a typical Holiday Inn room, but that was
fine. She looked at her watch. It was almost four o'clock. To early for bed, though she was exhausted,
because she was still on California time.
By that measure, it was barely afternoon. She developed a craving for Mexican food, any taco stand would do
she thought, any place she could get an order of rolled tacos smothered
in guacamole and cheese. "Yes!"
She said as she grabbed her keys and headed out for the first time
into Warrenton.
Half an hour
later, she was still driving, not a single Taco stand to be found. She stopped at a gas station and asked the
attendant where the nearest Taco stand was.
He looked at her and said "Taco's?
What's that?" Then
it hit home. She wasn't going
to find a Taco stand. These people
had never even heard of tacos. She
finally settled for a Pizza joint, "Sorrentino's", on Pennsylvania
Avenue, the main street of town.
She sat down
after ordering her meal and waited. A
man, short hair, clean shaven came in and made an order at the counter. He looked vaguely familiar to Diane, but she
decided she did not know him.
He glanced
over at her and caught her looking at him.
He gave her a quick smile and came over to her table. He stood there above her a moment then said "Don't I know you?
You look familiar some how."
It was the oldest line in the book, but like all oldies but goodies,
it had a tenacious history of success.
Maybe she did know him, however casually, after all.
She studied his face more closely.
His dark brown eyes settled gently on hers.
"No, no,
I thought you looked familiar too, but I don't think we've met,"
she finally said.
He pulled a chair from an adjoining table and
sat down. "Let me introduce
myself" he said politely,
"my name
is Jim, Jim Taylor, pleased to meet you."
He offered her his hand. She
took his hand,
"I'm Diane
Weeks, it's a pleasure to meet you too."
An awkward silence followed. Jim
broke the impasse first,
"I hope
you don't mind I've joined you, but perhaps you don't like to eat alone
either?" Diane was afraid
she looked too obvious. "What
makes you think I'm alone?", She said coyly.
(Because I
know you're here on the instructions of Elliot Lefevre, and I know you
don't know anyone here.)
"Oh, I
just never saw you round here before, and I'd a noticed someone as pretty
as you. I figured you must be
new to the area, that's all." Very
observant, thought Diane, impressed in spite of her wariness.
"Well
you are right, I don't like to eat alone" she said primly. Jim liked his job at times like these, especially
with a beauty like Diane. It was
easy to pass off factual knowledge as deep insight, and it worked wonders.
He knew she possessed more accurate information than the Air Force
on where the spaceship might be, assuming there even was a spaceship.
He was skeptical.
One Major at
Friday morning's hastily called mission briefing suggested that they just
stop her and take the information. "And
what if she has it memorized?", Major Jastremski asked. "Would you intend to torture her for it?
I think not, I damn well know not."
Jastremski
had decided to go back to Washington immediately after his dinner date
with Diane. Diane and Elliot were
up to something, keeping something from him.
He assumed it was data from Elliot's toy detector in the basement
labs. His own experts could only
give a ninety‑five percent probability of the craft being somewhere
between Washington and Buffalo, Scranton and Columbus, Ohio. That was too much room. They
had come up with the bright idea of following Diane. Wherever she settled, they would search thoroughly.
The counter
girl called Diane's number. Her
order was ready, lasagna and anti pasto.
Almost with the same breath the girl called Jim's number too, Pizza
with everything except anchovies. He
motioned Diane to stay seated. He
went to the counter to pick up both orders.
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
"Tell
me Jim, what do you do?" Diane
asked, mostly to break the silence.
(I hunt alien
spaceships for the Air Force)
"I drive
a truck, local hauls mostly. Warrenton
and a few other towns in this area to Pittsburgh and back." Diane's eyes widened a second, Jim suddenly
felt as if he'd given something away.
"That's why you looked familiar!" She said laughing.
"You look
a lot like a trucker I met on the road up here.
God, is it union rules that you all wear your hair like Naval officers?"
Jim shifted
in his seat. She was obviously
referring to Bravo five, Sergeant Jacobs.
Lieutenant Taylor would have to include this oversight in his next
report.
Diane spotted
something she didn't like in his reaction to her statement. Her defenses notched up. Jim likewise knew he had better be careful.
He had read her dossier. She was very smart. He let out a low chuckle.
"Nothing
so glamorous I'm afraid. I'm a
member of the Pennsylvania National Guard.
I just had my two-week summer training, just got home last week. The first thing they do is give you a haircut.
Before that it was damn near long as yours."
He grinned at her. It sounds
plausible she thought. Maybe that
other guy had just gotten off from the same training.
Maybe bats lay eggs. She
dismissed it at the present but made a mental note to re-examine the issue
in private.
"What
about you, what's your line?"
"Oh I'm
a phy. I'm visiting an old college
friend for a few days."
If he was just
a truck driver there was no point in scaring him off by telling him she
was a Physicist, and if he wasn't really a truck driver, then. she didn't know what. . Diane
decided he was too well educated, too polished. It would be best for her to leave.
"It was
wonderful meeting you Jim, but I really must get going, but hey, I'm sure
I'll see you around. Bye now." She got up and left Jim at the table. 'Oh you won't see me,' he thought, 'but I will
most assuredly be around.'
She got back
to her hotel room to find that the red message light on the phone was
blinking. Damn! All she wanted now was sleep. Italian cooking was like knock out drops to
Diane. But it could be important. She called the hotel operator who informed
her that she had a message from Elliot.
She dialed Elliot's number, and he answered.
"Hello
Elliot, I got your message."
"Hello
Diane, how are the wilds of Pennsylvania?"
"Wild
Elliot. I got here a couple of
hours ago. I just got back from
eating, and I'm dead."
Elliot said
"Well I wanted to know for certain that you made it, and to let you
know we had another event last night, about three a.m. your local time." Diane's mind snapped alert.
"Did you
get any usable data?" She asked impatiently.
Elliot let out a sigh.
"No damnit.
Blunderbuss is still down, and the Helsinki machine as well"
Diane felt let down.
"That
means that just you and I know it, right?" she asked. "Yes" Elliot said. Diane
thought carefully about her next question.
"Elliot,
is there any chance that I'm being followed?" There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"What
makes you think you=re being followed?" Elliot asked in a serious
tone. Diane went on to explain how the only two people
she had met so far had virtually identical haircuts, and seemed more polished
then their surroundings would indicate. Just a hunch really, she said.
"Damn. I thought we'd have a little time at least.
I don't know, but if you are I'd bet money its Jastremski's men.
Well don't worry. The last
thing they'll do is hurt you. But
get busy. If they pick up the scent before you they'll
show up in force and we won't have a chance." Get busy, Diane whined to herself. I'm already so tired.
"O.K. Elliot" Diane sighed, "I'll call
you if anything develops, or Monday in any event, goodnight Elliot."
"Happy
hunting Miss Weeks." The
phone went dead. Diane looked
at her watch; it was only six‑thirty.
She struck on a plan. She
could sleep four hours or so, then get up to have a look around.
It would still be early for a Saturday night, and with any luck,
she could ditch her tail in the process.
She called
the office and requested an Eight a.m. wake up call. Then she set her wristwatch alarm to ten thirty tonight. Her watch alarm was very quiet, but she had
trained herself to wake when it chimed.
If her tail thought she would be in bed, all night he might lower
his guard and she could get away before he could follow. She showered and took care of other necessities; she laid out her
clothes for her first covert operation.
Black jeans, a fresh bra, and a dark loose fitting button down
shirt. She laid the clothes over the chair by the
desk the room provided. She did
not bother putting on pajamas. She
went naked and got into bed. The
time jump, the mad dash back in LA, the drive, and Lasagna had won. She was asleep inside of two minutes.
The driver
of the truck, Lieutenant Taylor, checked into room 116, next to Diane's
room. He unpacked his suitcase. But instead of pajamas and underwear, he pulled
out a myriad of electronic equipment.
He attached two suction cup devices to the wall between him and
Miss Weeks and the phone. He tested
his radio, and finally went to the parking lot and attached a small device,
no bigger that a pack of breath mints, underneath the trunk of Diane's
car. He then went back to the radio and took the
microphone.
"Bravo
two to Bravo Leader, Bravo two to Bravo Leader, do you copy? Over." Static for a
second then "Bravo two this is Bravo Leader, what is your status?
Over."
"The farmer's
wife is tucked in for the night, nameplates are applied. I say again nameplates are applied. Request a wake up call for O five hundred."
"Bravo
two this is Bravo Leader, affirmative on wake up call Oh‑five hundred,
good job and good night. Bravo
Leader out."
|
