Go-Between

Chapter Nineteen

“You geocaching?”

“What?”

Michelle had seen the hiker coming: a college-aged kid with a rainbow bandana tied pirate-style over his head, leading a mid-sized mutt on a leash. She’d also smelled the weed he was smoking. She’d put the shovel aside, leaning it against the tree, and rested her hand on the fanny pack with the.38.

“Geocaching. Is that a cache?” He was a skinny white kid, not that tall, wearing a worn long-sleeved T-shirt and Patagonia vest.

“I… haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

He peered into the hole. “I didn’t think they usually buried them like that.”

“It’s… actually a scavenger hunt.”

“Oh. Cool.”

His dog, which looked like a cross between a beagle and an Australian shepherd, nosed at the pile of dirt and needles she’d dug up.

He held out the joint he’d been smoking. “You want a hit?”

“Thanks, but no. I have to work later.”

He took another draw, nodding, stubbed the joint out on the sole of his shoe and tucked it in his shirt pocket. Crouched down and gave his dog a two-handed scratch behind the ears.

Now what? Michelle thought. He seemed harmless, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere, either.

“Well, I have a deadline,” she said. “So I better keep digging.”

“Cool.”

She picked up the shovel. He stood there, watching her.

Christ. If someone like Carlene could be one of Gary’s people, who’s to say this kid wasn’t?

Just dig, she told herself. If he tries anything, hit him with the shovel. But she didn’t think he was going to try anything. He was just hanging out, watching her dig, and he seemed extremely stoned.

Her shovel hit something solid. A tree root?

No. Something metal.

A steel box in military gray-green, about ten inches long and seven inches high. She grabbed the handle on the top and tugged.

“Need a hand?”

She forced a smile. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

He crouched down on his haunches, his dog sniffing at the dirt.

“Oh wow. It’s an ammo box.”

Michelle brushed it off. Whatever was in there shifted with a soft thud-a solid weight, but not too heavy. She unzipped her pack and put it inside.

“You aren’t going to open it?”

“No, it’s part of the game,” she said. “We have to bring what we find to the party, and we’ll open it there.”

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed, a kid who wanted to know what the present was. “Well, have fun with that.”

“I will. Nice meeting you!” she added. She used the shovel blade to push dirt back into the hole, quickly as she could, glancing over her shoulder at the hiker as he ambled down the trail, his dog pausing to sniff at a fallen branch.

“I’m not trying to ‘stifle your creativity’!” Helen made finger quotes, the rising red on her cheeks making the freckles stand out. “I’m just saying that all that fancy shit doesn’t sell here!”

“Bullshit. You’re not even trying to sell it!” Joseph’s face was even redder, but then, he was a redhead.

It was feeling very cramped in her little office.

Guillermo, the line cook, leaned back in his chair and sighed. She’d included Guillermo because if Joseph walked, he was the one who’d be taking over.

Michelle lifted her hands. “Guys… None of us has time for this.”

She hadn’t even had a chance to open Danny’s box yet.

“Okay,” she said. “Joseph, this isn’t El Bulli or Moto. You can’t go crazy with experiments. Our customers want high quality, locally sourced food with seasonal ingredients at a reasonable price point-”

“You’re not giving people here enough credit. They just need some education-”

She raised her hand with more force. “I’m not finished. You want to do one special a night that’s as complicated and wild as you want to make it, go for it.” She turned to Helen. “And I want you to sell it hard. We’ll offer half-price on an appropriate wine pairing. Nice bottles. Call it ‘Chef’s Adventure.’ We’ll see how it goes.”

Helen gave a little shrug. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Are we all on the same page?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, clenching and flexing his big, scarred hands. “Sure.”

“Works for me, Emily,” Guillermo said, stretching in his chair. “Okay if I get back to the kitchen? I still have some prep to do.”

“Sure,” she said. “I just want to let you know…”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know what she wanted to say, but because the words were getting caught in her throat. “All of you are amazing. I know I’ve been asking a lot from you, and… I just really appreciate it.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would stop the tears, because crying at this point was just too embarrassing.

When she opened her eyes, all three were staring at her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve had a long day.”

Helen took a step forward, like she was thinking about giving her a hug, but she didn’t quite get there. “Is there… do you need anything, or…?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Just tired.” She managed a smile. “I’m going to take a little time to go over the accounts and let you guys do what you need to do. Helen, why don’t you and I meet for a few minutes after I’m done? And Joseph… put me down for one of those chef’s specials tonight. I haven’t had a decent thing to eat all day.”

After they all left, she closed the office door and collapsed in her chair.

She knew that she came across as cold much of the time. Oh, she did the right things. Holiday bonuses and bottles of wine. She thought that she treated people fairly. But she’d been so closed off for so long, keeping a part of herself behind walls. She couldn’t admit who she really was. And she wasn’t sure she even knew anymore.

But who had time to worry about that?

She unzipped the GORUCK and pulled out Danny’s ammo box.

Three vacuum-sealed plastic bags.

The first one was money. Five bundles of hundreds, so probably fifty grand. She sighed. She had enough trouble with excess cash as it was. What should she do with it?

Deposit some to her Emily personal account, maybe. Under $10K to avoid the reporting requirements. She could use some extra cash to cover the rent, since she wasn’t paying herself what she usually did from Evergreen. And of course, there were the lawyers. It was Sunday, but she could deposit up to fifty bills at her bank’s ATM.

Except large cash deposits… as the girlfriend of a man jailed on federal drug charges… didn’t that just scream “Drug money! Freeze my bank account!”

“Shit,” she muttered.

Next, a smaller package, the size of a sandwich bag. Passports.

She opened the package. There were two. The first had Danny’s photo, with the name “Justin Terrence Carver.”

The second was for her. “Meredith Evelyn Jackson.”

If she needed to run, now she could. He’d made sure of that.

She took in a deep breath. Let the tears flow, this time, until one dripped onto the passport.

No time for that.

The last package was a notebook. Longer than it was tall, about 8” x 6”, with a sturdy, slightly battered dark-blue pebbled cover. A pair of wings, like the Air Force logo, and Pilot Logbook stamped in silver, faded in places.

She opened it. Light-green pages, like a ledger book. Columns for date, route, aircraft category and class, conditions of flight, type of piloting time. Some columns had no headings or ones that were handwritten; one of those was labeled “Account.” The last column on the right-hand page was a longish space for “Remarks and Endorsements.”

She looked at the first entry. It was dated about ten years ago.

The most recent entry was just over two years old.

When she’d met Danny in Mexico.

She was pretty sure she was looking at the logbook of the missions that Danny had flown for the Boys.

At first the entries were minimal. Abbreviations and numbers that she didn’t understand. Locations marked by airport codes and coordinates. But further in, the notes became more detailed. Names. Dollar amounts. “Kilos” instead of “Load.” Strings of numbers that looked like bank accounts. Remarks like: “Exfiltration.” “Face Shot.” “Dead drop.” “Ghost transpo.” “Wet job.”

“They burned Rami. FUBAR.”

“Target was bullshit.”

“Fuck this.”

There were about twenty unformatted pages in the back, just ruled lines, like a regular notebook. The first few pages were fragmented notes, a few doodles. Then, several pages in, a page of writing dated shortly after they’d arrived in Arcata.

For approx. 10 years I worked as an asset for an off-the-books CIA black ops unit. This log contains a record of those missions, including relevant names, dates, operational details and account numbers when applicable.

When I started I was proud of what I did. I truly believe we accomplished some good things. We took out some real bad guys and helped some good people. But on the balance, what I did wasn’t good. I supported missions that eliminated people we had no business targeting. I helped take gold and other valuables out of Iraq and Af-Pak. I ran illegal narcotics into the US and money and guns to Mexico, Central America and South America, all this as a means to continue to fund our missions and other ops, some within US borders. I’ve recorded what I know about those.

Some of the times when I was moving money around, I don’t know for certain what it was for. But from my years of working with these people and observing the behaviors, I believe some of these missions were just about making money. Everybody made good money, including me. But what we made is nothing compared to the people we were really working for.

Like Smedley Butler said, “War is a racket, conducted for the benefit of the very few, at the expense of the very many.”

I wasn’t serving my country, I was feeding the war machine. If you’re reading this, it’s because it’s time I did something to make up for it.

Captain Daniel Finn (USAF, Ret.)

She slowly closed the notebook. Rested her palms on its pebbled surface.

What was she supposed to do with this?

There was a scanner/printer in the office. Would that be smart, having another hard copy? Was there someplace she could hide it? Someone she could mail it to?

How would that help? Could she really say, “Let Danny go and leave us alone, or all this comes out”? Did things like that actually work?

Gary killed people who found out things they weren’t supposed to know.

She needed time to think about what to do.

Scan it and put it on a flash drive, she decided. Easier to carry that way, and she could make as many copies as she wanted.

The printer had a USB port that you could print from or scan to directly. She wasn’t sure if clearing the data from the printer really got rid of it, but it had to be better than having it on the computer and hoping “secure empty trash” did the trick.

First things first: she disconnected the printer cable from the desktop.

After she’d finished, some two and a half hours and over two hundred pages later, she cleared the data, plugged the printer cable back in and printed out a slew of reports on expenses and earnings, hoping that would overwrite anything still in the printer memory, having no idea if it actually would.

By the time she was ready to leave Evergreen, dinner was in full swing.

She stood by the end of the bar, sipping a half glass of wine from a bottle of Russian River pinot she’d been wanting to try. A nice crowd for a Sunday night. Everything looked good. The food, the warm lighting, the wood-burl tables, her photos on the wall. She wondered if this was the last time she’d ever see the place.

If nothing else, I proved I could do it, she thought.

“Hey, Emily. Nice to see you.” Matt, the young tattooed bartender, took a moment to wipe the counter in front of her. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good,” she said. “Thanks.”

He scrubbed at a sticky spot on the bar. “So, how’s Jeff doing?” he said in a low voice.

Had he heard something? Did he know?

“Jeff’s… he’s okay. Why do you ask?”

“Just some things people said.” He grabbed a couple of dirty glasses off the bar and scooped up the tip someone had left. “Anyway, hope it works out. Jeff’s a good guy.”

“Thanks for your concern,” she said.

If Matt knew, it wouldn’t be long before everyone at Evergreen knew. Maybe they already did.

Maybe she should just take the money, the passport and the logbook, and run. She was pretty sure that was what Danny wanted her to do. How many times had he said it, since he’d been arrested?

Why don’t you just get away for a while?

You don’t need to be anywhere near this.

You need to take care of yourself.

Her car was parked behind the restaurant. She’d gone out the front door because she hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to everyone again. Didn’t want to risk the emotion.

The goodbye wouldn’t mean much to them. She was the boss, and they expected to see her in a week or two. If they knew about Danny’s bust, maybe they were worried about the business, about their jobs. If she disappeared completely…

How long would it be before the feds showed up?

They’ll be fine, she thought. They weren’t involved. They might be pissed as hell that their jobs ended without warning, but they’ll survive. They won’t know how much they meant to me, most likely.

Their lives would go on.

She rounded the corner to the back parking lot. There were only a few cars there, including hers.

Standing by it were two burly, tatted-up white guys with shaved heads and flat-brimmed ball caps. Out of towners, she guessed, the kind who came here looking to buy weed cheap and move it back east.

But she couldn’t be sure. She transferred her keys to her left hand.

She reached into her fanny pack, wrapped her fingers around the checkered hardwood grip of her.38.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry, ma’am,” one of them said. He took a few steps back.

The other didn’t move. He was taking a hit off a glass pipe.

What was the logo on his hat? An H over a star.

Houston?

Were these some of Bobby’s clients? The ones expecting Danny’s shipment?

“Excuse me,” she said again. Louder this time. Her heart was pounding hard enough to choke off the words, but she wasn’t going to let that happen.

He straightened up with a grin. “Sorry about that. We don’t mean to be getting in your way.”

She could feel their eyes on her as she approached the driver’s side door of her car. She had her finger on the trigger of the.38 now, the grip cool and solid in her hand.

She pressed the key to unlock the door. Opened it. Now her back was to them.

Keep it together. Don’t act scared. Get ready to shoot.

She slid into the car seat and slammed the door shut. Jammed the key in the ignition and started the car.

She saw the two of them in her rearview mirror, watching her as she pulled away.

Great. Just great.

The last thing she needed were some Texas thugs looking to recoup the weed money they’d lost. Or the weed. How did deals like that work, anyway? Half the money up front, half on delivery? Were they the ones who’d paid Danny, or was that part of Bobby’s deal? She had no idea. She’d never wanted to know very much about Bobby’s gigs. That way she could go on pretending that Danny was a charter pilot and volunteer firefighter, she was a restaurateur, and they were living a nice, normal life among the redwoods.

You don’t know they were part of Bobby’s deal, she told herself. There were a lot of guys like that, drifting in and out of Humboldt.

And if they were, maybe they just wanted to make sure that Danny wasn’t talking.

She snorted. Of all the things Danny had to say, their little pissant deal didn’t even register.

But if they were hanging around Evergreen…

Christ. What if they tried something with Evergreen? With someone on her staff?

What could she even do about it?

She pulled the rental car into the driveway of her rental house.

Now what?

She’d checked all the doors and windows, twice, to make sure they were locked. Set the alarm.

What made sense to do?

Just get in the car and drive. Drive someplace she could catch a bus or a train to San Francisco. Use the new passport and the cash and buy a plane ticket to somewhere far away.

What about Danny? What did he want her to do with the pilot log? Could she use that, somehow, to get him out of jail?

She was pacing around her living room, mind racing. If she tried to run…

She’d left a trail, coming here. There was no way for her not to have. Gary used all kinds of electronic tracking, but he paid people, too. He could have paid anyone here to keep an eye out for her.

This new passport was clean, as far as she knew. She had to use it carefully. Compromise it, and she was completely fucked.

Okay. So stick with the cover story she’d already established. A crisis at the restaurant. Back in Houston tomorrow.

Figure out what Danny wanted her to do with the logbook.

Then run. As fast and as far away as she could.

x x x

She decided to take Danny’s rucksack with her. It was a better choice for a go-bag than the one she had back in Houston.

“This thing is bomb-proof,” he’d said, more than once. Danny had a thing about good bags.

Was there anything at the house she wanted to take with her? In case she couldn’t come back?

Not really. A couple practical pieces of clothing, too warm for Houston, but who knew how much longer she’d be there? The books were too heavy. The nice dishes, the framed photos… what was the point?

She hardly had anything personal here anyway. She’d lost all that two years ago.

She wasn’t sure what to do about the money. She’d done a little Googling, and although there were no restrictions on how much money you could carry on planes domestically in theory, in practice, she was the partner of a man in jail on federal drug charges, and she’d booked the outbound flight from Arcata as Emily.

She’d tried to be smart, but she would have been better off traveling as Michelle with this kind of cash. Michelle didn’t have a drug-smuggling boyfriend.

Just a dead financial-swindler husband.

Okay, she thought. Stop at an auto-teller before her flight and deposit just under $10,000 in her official Michelle account.

Except she had to assume that account was monitored. As was the second bank account she’d opened in Houston, under Emily’s name. The one with the safe-deposit box and $9,000 in cash.

You needed that account to pay the lawyers, she told herself. That’s your story.

And Gary knew about that money anyway. He was the reason she had all that cash she needed to account for.

But if thousands of dollars suddenly showed up in either of those accounts, and it wasn’t money from Gary…

She couldn’t risk it.

Okay, she thought. Just deposit a few thousand dollars into your Emily account. She could make up an excuse for that amount that would fit with her trip out here. Cash from Evergreen, to cover her Emily expenses. She could carry five thousand or so in her wallet. The restaurant was largely a cash business; she could claim she didn’t have time to make the deposit if she got stopped. The rest…

She hated to leave it, but maybe it wasn’t worth the risk.

She spent the next couple of hours going through clothes, through the things they’d accumulated, deciding what made sense to take. A jacket, and a few other pieces of rugged, practical clothing. She found Danny’s Air Force Academy ring. It must have meant something to him; he’d kept it all this time, so she packed it. She found a jade pendant he’d bought her, a cutout woven design that almost looked like a Celtic knot. “You keep it next to your skin,” he’d said. “It’s supposed to be good for you.” Instead of packing it, she put it on.

A few of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of jeans, in case he got out. Her good camera. The memory cards and backup drives. All those images she’d made.

At the last minute, she stashed another $3,000 in the Hadley Pro camera bag, under the padded insert. It’s still not a crazy amount of money to carry, she told herself. She could explain it if she had to.

Besides, if she got searched, it was the passports that would really fuck things up. There was no way she’d be able to explain those.

Might as well throw in another $10K, she thought.

By the time she’d finished, it was 11 p.m. With a 6 a.m. flight, she’d need to get up at 4 a.m. at the latest. Hardly worth sleeping. She was still pretty wired, anyway, even though she hadn’t really slept more than an hour or two the night before.

Finally, she decided to open a bottle of wine. She had some good bottles here. What were the odds she’d be back to drink them? She chose the 2001 Chateau Montelena Cabernet Sauvignon Estate. In a perfect world, she’d cellar it a few more years.

“Obviously, this is not a perfect world,” she said aloud, as she popped the cork.

She poured the bottle into a decanter and got out a proper crystal cabernet glass. She wouldn’t be able to drink it all, and it would be a shame to waste it. But might as well do it right.

The wine poured out deep ruby red. The nose was an explosion of dark fruit, chocolate and earth. She sipped, and it was every bit as good as its bouquet had promised.

She stood in the kitchen for a while, savoring the glass. Turned off the alarm sensors on the sliding glass doors and the back of the house and went out onto the deck and stared at the redwoods. All this time, it had been a good life here with Danny, and she’d hardly appreciated it.

After a second glass, she thought she might be able to sleep for a few hours. You’d better, she told herself. You could only go so far on adrenaline before you started making stupid mistakes.

She rearmed the sliding glass doors and deck, double-checked the windows and doors. Made sure everything was locked down tight.

She put the rest of the cash in the office safe, where she’d stored her.38 while she was in Houston. Not tonight, though. She put the.38 under the pillow next to her so she could easily reach it.

Where Danny would normally sleep.

She put the ruck and the Cole Haan tote she’d traveled with next to the bed. She was wearing a nice pair of sweats and a J. Crew T-shirt, so if she didn’t have time to change, she could travel as is, her Toms espadrilles parked next to the ruck, ready to go.

She’d packed Taking Flight, because, who knew, she might need something to read. And even though she’d erased some of the pencil marks, it felt like something she shouldn’t leave behind.

She turned on a little lamp on the dresser. Normally she slept better in dark rooms, but tonight, she didn’t want to sleep too deeply. She just wanted to get enough rest to function tomorrow, until she could safely sleep on the flight from San Francisco to Houston.

Hell, maybe I’ll upgrade, she thought. She had the cash, after all.

She lay down on the bed, on top of the sheets, and covered herself with a down comforter.

After a minute or two, she got up and retrieved Danny’s logbook from the ruck. Even having it next to the bed was too far away. She tucked it under her pillow.

She lay there a long time before she drifted off to sleep.

x x x

Funny how she could see the room still, with her eyes closed. There was the dresser. There was the door. The door was open. The dark shape by her bed-

Someone was in the bedroom.

She flinched, choked back a scream. Get the gun, she thought. Get the gun.

“You’re not fooling me, Michelle.”

Fucking Gary.

She rolled over and sat up, her back against the headboard. He was lounging in a chair he’d pulled over close to the bed. How long had he been there, watching her?

“What are you doing here?” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. Of course, he’d love that. He got off on her fear.

“I was gonna ask you that. Missing work tomorrow, so soon in your employment-doesn’t make you look very reliable.”

“I cleared it with Caitlin,” she said. Thinking, gun. Her fingertips grazed the wood grip.

“You didn’t clear it with me.”

“I was afraid you’d say no. Besides… I knew you’d find out anyway.”

He chuckled. “Well, you were right about that.”

He stood up, looming over her, his body blocking much of the light from the lamp on the dresser.

“So what was so important you had to run out here on a weekend?”

Her mouth was so dry it was hard to speak. “We were having a problem at the restaurant.”

“And you couldn’t handle it over the phone?”

“Not if I wanted to make sure it was handled.” She sat up straighter. Body language. Try not to act scared. It’s what he wants. Don’t give it to him.

“I know you don’t give a shit, Gary. But the restaurant’s important to me.”

Get the gun. She was touching the grip. If she could pull it closer, just enough to get her finger on the trigger.

“You said I could go back to it when I’m done with Caitlin. I need to know I have something to go back to.”

Her index finger touched metal.

“You’re not going for a gun, are you, Michelle?” His voice was soft.

“No,” she said.

“Because if something happens to me, Danny’s never getting out. You can trust me on that.” He took a step closer. “You wouldn’t do too well with that, now, would you?”

She could feel a tremor in the mattress as his knees touched the side of the bed.

“I know what kind of woman you are,” he said. “You can’t stand being without a man.”

Her hand was wrapped around the grip now.

He smiled. “The things I could do to you. I bet you’d like it.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

“Don’t try it,” he said. “You won’t make it.”

If he moves, I’m trying.

He didn’t move. It was hard to see his face in the near dark, but she thought his eyes were fixed on hers.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said.

“Back up, then.” She said it slowly, forcing out each word, her voice hard and harsh to her own ears.

He hesitated. Then lifted his hands. “All right.” He took two steps back. “I just came here to make sure we’re on the same page, that’s all.”

Watch his hands, she thought. If he goes for a gun…

He sat back down in the chair. Put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

“I’m telling you, you really have an aptitude for this kind of thing, Michelle. A lot of women, a lot of men, for that matter, me showing up like this, they’d just fall apart. But you… you really hang tough.”

He suddenly straightened up. She flinched.

“Now, now,” he said. “Calm yourself down. You want a glass of that wine you poured out? I tasted some-I thought it was really good.”

She shook her head. He shrugged. “Your choice. So, tell me about Caitlin.”

Breathe, she told herself, her mind a blank.

“What about her?” she managed.

“How’s she doing? Where’s her head at?”

Was it over, then? Had he had enough fun for now?

Just answer the question.

“I think she’s doing better. We’ve been going to the gym. To yoga. She’s not drinking as much. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“I want you to keep her on a leash. Make sure she’s sober enough to do the events and to stay on message.”

Did he know about Caitlin’s doubts? About her meeting with Troy Stone?

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”

“Anything she’s said or done that makes you think she wants to change directions?”

Her heart sped up again. If she told him, what would that mean for Caitlin? If she didn’t…

Wouldn’t Gary already have an idea? She couldn’t be his only source of information.

If she lied, he’d know.

“Mostly… I think she wants to make a change in her life. Doing Safer America, it’s almost like she’s constantly reliving what happened to her. I think maybe she’s ready to try and be someone other than the tragic victim.”

Gary frowned. “We’re going to have to keep an eye on that.”

She felt that sickening plunge in her gut, the one that came with a betrayal. But there was nothing she could have said that wasn’t a risk.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Keep me posted. If Caitlin starts to go off the reservation, let me know.”

“Okay.”

“And speaking of…” He stood up. Slowly. “Next time you get the urge to make a little jaunt like this, you run it by me first. Because if this happens again? I’m really going to start to wonder if you’re being straight with me.”

She nodded. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Because you know what? I really like working with you. It’s been kind of a challenge, breaking you in, but I’m having some fun with it.”

He backed toward the door. Paused in the doorway. “Maybe you ought to think about making a change. Leave that old victim behind.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before you fucked with my life,” she blurted out.

“You think too small.” He reached for the doorknob and started to close the door behind him. “Let me know how it goes in San Francisco.”

The door shut.

She stayed where she was. Brought the gun out from under the pillow, her hands shaking. She strained to listen, for doors closing, for car engines starting and tires crunching redwood bark, for signs that he was really gone.